{Tilda} The gates of my Fortress
Oct. 2nd, 2010 09:09 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
wayfarers_lodgeTrevor Winston was drunk at three in the afternoon, and was very unhappy with the current state of affairs. He'd been asked to leave the pub before the Grand Final had even started, and to make it even worse, when he was walking through the mall, he'd seen Janice, his wife- or rather, his ex-wife. She hadn't seen him, so he followed her back to where she was staying and, after he'd worked out where he was, he went to get a case of beer and a bouquet of flowers, and set himself to the grim task of trying to get her back.
Trevor loved Janice. She just sometimes said things that made him angry, and he'd never had a good temper and she knew better than that. Sometimes he saw her smiling at other men, and sometimes she spent too much money on clothes so that she could go out and cheat on him, and he'd been patient with her, oh yes, because you're patient with the people you love. Sometimes he just got angry, though, and she'd always forgiven him- until he came home from work one day and found that she was gone.
Now was his chance to win her back, he thought as he walked across the bridge towards Westfields. She liked flowers, right? And a beer after a long day at work? Well he could share his, and that would be nice, wouldn't it? She wouldn't be able to resist.
That had been an hour ago. Trevor had hit his leg pretty hard against one of the concrete struts on the bridge on the way back, so he was already in a bad mood when he came to the shelter, and it had only gotten worse. He'd only seen her face once, when she came to the window to see who was calling her name. She'd pulled back suddenly, face white and eyes horrified once she'd seen him, but he pretended not to notice- she always liked to play hard to get. The flowers lay discarded and somewhat trodden on on the ground, and the carton of beer was half empty, if only because he had taken to throwing full cans at the windows. Frightened shrieks were coming from insidge. Good, thought Trevor as he took another shot, let the bitches be frightened. Maybe then they'd learn.
A flock of geese were standing at the locked gate of the facility, hissing and honking at him, flapping their wings furiously against the bars. Trevor spat out a curse and hurled his open tinnie at them. There was a clang and an alarmed honk. Trevor laughed, and crouched down to get himself another beer, and sucked air in between his teeth as his bruised leg twinged painfully.
"Excuse me, cunt."
He shot straight up again at the loud, clear, business-like voice. On the other side of the gate was a woman in a pantsuit, with glasses and short red hair, who looked as if she'd just come out of some sort of board meeting.
"Mr Winston, I presume? I've been advised to tell you that Janice doesn't want to see you, dipshit, and the police have been called for your attack on these private premises. I would leave now, if I were you."
Something small and sensible in the back of Trevor's mind told him that this would be a sensible plan. The loud, drunk part of his mind told the smaller part to shut the fuck up.
"You lesbian cunt," he slurred, "Give me back my wife!"
"I hope you will believe me when I say that I cannot give her back to you, fucknuckle, as she is not something to give, nor is it in my power, nor anyone else's but her own to give her to anyone. I would again advise you to leave the premises, as the police have been called. I also feel obliged to inform you that you are also on camera, although God knows why, you shitstain."
It took a few moments for the insult in those calm, carefully delivered words to filter through the haze of alcohol.
"Y'callin' me a shitstain? Y'got your knickers in a twist, cunt? I shud come over there and beat the shit outta you."
"Fucker, if I said I didn't want you to try, that would be a lie. Now this is your last warning. The police have been called. So far, you have property damage, intent to commit felonious assault, and suspected intent to abduct and sexually assault a woman under my legal care. I would go home and wait for the nice policemen to come and take you into custody, because, by El-Ariahrah's grace, you do not want to fuck with me, pindick."
A slightly larger portion of his brain insisted that her idea was a good one. The drunk part of his brain, still in the majority, roared with anger at the slur on his manhood. What the fuck can she possibly do to me, he thought, she's only a woman.
His hand lashed forward almost of it's own accord. The unopened can clipped one of the spikes on top of the gate, and spewed foamy VB everywhere as it came to land at the woman's feet.
She smiled. The small part of Trevor's brain urged him to run.
"And that's assault. Now I am obliged to defend myself with neccesary force. Thank you."
Afterwards, Trevor was unable to remember exactly what happened, but his thought process at the time went something like this-
Hah, what's she running for, the gate's locked. Hang on, did she just step on a goose? HOLY SHIT SHE JUST JUMPED OVER THE GATE OH SHIT OH SHIT OH SHI-
There was a rather satisfying crunch, and Trevor started screaming for the couple of seconds it took for him to pass out from the pain.
~*~*~
Tilda looked down at the unconscious man under her, and considered her options. Having landed squarely on his shoulders, she'd managed to break his clavicle and both of his legs, as far as she could tell, so there was no chance of him going anywhere.
She stood up as sirens began to blare, and moved the drunken man into the recovery position, cursing when she discovered blood staining his tracksuit pants.
"Fuck!" She swore, and carefully cut the trouser leg away with her finger. A jagged white edge stuck out of his calf, seeping blood.
"Why don't I just kill you now?" She muttered to herself as she straightened his leg as much as she could, and realised that she was going to be late to the Freehold, but she knew the answer.
"Because I don't belong to the Warlord anymore. I don't have to kill anyone."
Tilda heard a noise at the gates, and looked up. Janice had come down, and was staring with disbelief at her unconscious tormentor.
"He... he doesn't look so big anymore."
"He was never big, sweetie," Tilda said softly, "Just now you can see him for what he really is. He's never going to hurt you again. Now he'll answer to the law."
Janice smiled as tears rolled down her cheeks. "I think that's a good thing."
Tilda smiled gently in reply and nodded as she turned back to the unconscious man. A few moments later, the police arrived.
Trevor loved Janice. She just sometimes said things that made him angry, and he'd never had a good temper and she knew better than that. Sometimes he saw her smiling at other men, and sometimes she spent too much money on clothes so that she could go out and cheat on him, and he'd been patient with her, oh yes, because you're patient with the people you love. Sometimes he just got angry, though, and she'd always forgiven him- until he came home from work one day and found that she was gone.
Now was his chance to win her back, he thought as he walked across the bridge towards Westfields. She liked flowers, right? And a beer after a long day at work? Well he could share his, and that would be nice, wouldn't it? She wouldn't be able to resist.
That had been an hour ago. Trevor had hit his leg pretty hard against one of the concrete struts on the bridge on the way back, so he was already in a bad mood when he came to the shelter, and it had only gotten worse. He'd only seen her face once, when she came to the window to see who was calling her name. She'd pulled back suddenly, face white and eyes horrified once she'd seen him, but he pretended not to notice- she always liked to play hard to get. The flowers lay discarded and somewhat trodden on on the ground, and the carton of beer was half empty, if only because he had taken to throwing full cans at the windows. Frightened shrieks were coming from insidge. Good, thought Trevor as he took another shot, let the bitches be frightened. Maybe then they'd learn.
A flock of geese were standing at the locked gate of the facility, hissing and honking at him, flapping their wings furiously against the bars. Trevor spat out a curse and hurled his open tinnie at them. There was a clang and an alarmed honk. Trevor laughed, and crouched down to get himself another beer, and sucked air in between his teeth as his bruised leg twinged painfully.
"Excuse me, cunt."
He shot straight up again at the loud, clear, business-like voice. On the other side of the gate was a woman in a pantsuit, with glasses and short red hair, who looked as if she'd just come out of some sort of board meeting.
"Mr Winston, I presume? I've been advised to tell you that Janice doesn't want to see you, dipshit, and the police have been called for your attack on these private premises. I would leave now, if I were you."
Something small and sensible in the back of Trevor's mind told him that this would be a sensible plan. The loud, drunk part of his mind told the smaller part to shut the fuck up.
"You lesbian cunt," he slurred, "Give me back my wife!"
"I hope you will believe me when I say that I cannot give her back to you, fucknuckle, as she is not something to give, nor is it in my power, nor anyone else's but her own to give her to anyone. I would again advise you to leave the premises, as the police have been called. I also feel obliged to inform you that you are also on camera, although God knows why, you shitstain."
It took a few moments for the insult in those calm, carefully delivered words to filter through the haze of alcohol.
"Y'callin' me a shitstain? Y'got your knickers in a twist, cunt? I shud come over there and beat the shit outta you."
"Fucker, if I said I didn't want you to try, that would be a lie. Now this is your last warning. The police have been called. So far, you have property damage, intent to commit felonious assault, and suspected intent to abduct and sexually assault a woman under my legal care. I would go home and wait for the nice policemen to come and take you into custody, because, by El-Ariahrah's grace, you do not want to fuck with me, pindick."
A slightly larger portion of his brain insisted that her idea was a good one. The drunk part of his brain, still in the majority, roared with anger at the slur on his manhood. What the fuck can she possibly do to me, he thought, she's only a woman.
His hand lashed forward almost of it's own accord. The unopened can clipped one of the spikes on top of the gate, and spewed foamy VB everywhere as it came to land at the woman's feet.
She smiled. The small part of Trevor's brain urged him to run.
"And that's assault. Now I am obliged to defend myself with neccesary force. Thank you."
Afterwards, Trevor was unable to remember exactly what happened, but his thought process at the time went something like this-
Hah, what's she running for, the gate's locked. Hang on, did she just step on a goose? HOLY SHIT SHE JUST JUMPED OVER THE GATE OH SHIT OH SHIT OH SHI-
There was a rather satisfying crunch, and Trevor started screaming for the couple of seconds it took for him to pass out from the pain.
~*~*~
Tilda looked down at the unconscious man under her, and considered her options. Having landed squarely on his shoulders, she'd managed to break his clavicle and both of his legs, as far as she could tell, so there was no chance of him going anywhere.
She stood up as sirens began to blare, and moved the drunken man into the recovery position, cursing when she discovered blood staining his tracksuit pants.
"Fuck!" She swore, and carefully cut the trouser leg away with her finger. A jagged white edge stuck out of his calf, seeping blood.
"Why don't I just kill you now?" She muttered to herself as she straightened his leg as much as she could, and realised that she was going to be late to the Freehold, but she knew the answer.
"Because I don't belong to the Warlord anymore. I don't have to kill anyone."
Tilda heard a noise at the gates, and looked up. Janice had come down, and was staring with disbelief at her unconscious tormentor.
"He... he doesn't look so big anymore."
"He was never big, sweetie," Tilda said softly, "Just now you can see him for what he really is. He's never going to hurt you again. Now he'll answer to the law."
Janice smiled as tears rolled down her cheeks. "I think that's a good thing."
Tilda smiled gently in reply and nodded as she turned back to the unconscious man. A few moments later, the police arrived.
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Date: 2010-10-03 05:53 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-10-04 05:07 pm (UTC)Hilarious! I chortled muchly.