Blood in the Cathedral

[Avis]

So. Here she was, walking the halls of the Circle, Star at her back and blood on her mind. She'd led him through the sanctuary, up to the dorms, were they emptied the silverware and one of the cupboards, then to the supplies closet, were they grabbed three mops and a bucket. Only of the mops was for actual janitorial use. The others were for something else entirely.

Star would find out soon enough, if he hadn't guessed already.

Finally, they ended the brief journey in the training hall. Avis took a moment to look the room over, imagining all the times she'd almost died in the room. All the times she'd tried to kill others. Finally, she walked in, moving to one of the benches along the far wall, trying to keep her breathing steady all the while.

[Star]

The Blue Raja.

Just nerves, yo. You can slow the hamster wheel, and still the burbling stream of word vomit, but Stay-Puft moments are the tick-tock-it-don't-stop. The silverware was obvious, and that's why The Blue Raja. Well. Okay. It was either The Blue Raja or Citizen Toxie. Right. The Blue Raja.

Because the mop was probably to clean up the blood.

On the floor.

Starfighter blood.

It's just nerves, until you feel your pulse get jumpy and cold slivers sliding through your veins. That? It's adrenaline. The "Oh No I'm About To Die" kind of adrenaline. That undeniable warning sign that you are doing something Seriously Dumb and about to get Seriously Hurt. Because this? It didn't look like there was going to be a whole lot of explaining and pie charts. Or lemonade.

Too late, yo. Too late to wonder if she can pull a punch.

Goodbye, Blue Raja.

Hello Stabbing. Neck Breaking. Screaming Rage Face. Stay-Puft Moments.

I am Jack's Deadly Girlfriend's Victim

[Avis]

She didn't want to be doing this. She didn't want to think of this with him. She knew he'd done this before. Knew he'd killed. Just like her. But there was a difference. A slight, bloody difference. In order to teach him this, in order to teach him to see murder, everywhere around him, she'd have to start seeing murder between them. Bring it into bed with them. Set a plate for it at every meal. Feel those grinning, crocodile teeth when he kissed her. Their dreams would turn putrid. Their love would shift. Become embroiled in a fight between blood and embraces, tenderness and tenderized flesh. It was almost something she couldn't do.

It didn't matter that she'd already taught it to someone before. With Asp, there hadn't been a challenge. The first time Avis had ever stepped onto a training mat with the blonde Arrow, Asp had driven several inches of wood into Avis' chest. Their relationship had been founded in blood and battle sweat.

Star, though...That was founded in thrilling train rides, and dancing in darkness. Love in a museum, and long talks in scrap yards and rain swept bridges. In soft, innocent touches while a film flashed by. In smiles, and silly card games. Even when they'd fought together before, Star hadn't really been violent. He could barely even slap. There was still a...comfort, she found in that. That he didn't inspire the crocodiles with mirrored grins.

No longer.

Now, things would change, but she'd been naive to think that they could do anything but. They were both murderers. Eventually, it would have seeped into their relationship.

"What were you thinking," she asked finally, raising her gaze off the concrete to pierce his eyes, "when you decided to kill that gangster. How did you decide to do it? Walk me through it."

[Star]

Omar?

"Omar?"

Like an echo, thought made words. What did that have to do with... ? Brows knitted, eyes lowered. Okay. Maybe she thought he couldn't? Or got lucky?

"Ummm. I was thinking, okay. I guess it started when we met with him? The set-up was that I was a college kid slash chemist and Nous was, uh." Wrinkles appeared as eyes scrunched and fingers pinched at the bridge. The Deal is The Deal. "Well, it was kind of implied we were together. We didn't DO anything, not even touch. It was just, kind of there, and they all assumed that and we let them. Okay."

"So, it started right at the beginning, with Omar threatening her, when the set-up was just us partnering up for a weed Thing. And it just kept going. And going. During the drive over, then at his lab. And then he tells me he's kidnapped her. And that's when it kind of clicked -- that this guy didn't care if someone was 'in the business' or not. He was just going to use bystanders, innocents. Over and over, until someone stopped him." A hand wheeled through the air churning the sequence of events.

"That's what I was thinking, how I decided. Just knowing he was going to keep using, or hurting people unless someone did something. And I knew that no one was going to, and even if they did, what was going to happen before that happened? How many people had he done that too already?"

Was that everything? Everything?

"Yeah. And. Well. I mean, that, basically he was a bully, except the kind that really hurts people. I tried. I tried, you know. To talk him down. But he wouldn't back off. That was, like, His Thing. I knew he wasn't going to change."

Because some people don't. Some do, but some don't.

Angels and Sins. Right, Omar?

[Avis]

"No. That's why you killed him. I didn't ask you that," the Warlock clarified, voice even. Flat.

"I asked you how you thought about it. After you'd already made up your mind, after you'd said to yourself 'I'm going to kill him, I'm going to murder this motherfucker," she continued, voice still a repressed drone, "what method did you decide to use to kill him? Why made you pick that method? What were you thinking about in that moment?"

The moment when one went to make Reality match their Will. When one sought death, and nothing else mattered. Not morals. Not justifications. Not consequences. All save one: a corpse at your feet.

"For instance, when I killed Bonny, I was thinking that I couldn't afford to reach for a weapon, and that if I had to run I didn't want her blood on me, so my body would have to do. I was already next to her. I smelled her shampoo, something with eucalyptus, and I thought about how fragile the neck can be. How I'd have to stretch tendons and break the spine on itself. I also thought about her eyes. Gouging through her eyes. But that was too messy. So I chose the neck.

"So...what were you thinking?" she asked again, still displaying that phantom calm.

[Star]

Oh.

Eucalyptus shampoo? Was that like those dark eyes, suddenly exploding in surprise, widening until it looked like the whites would swallow the iris and pupil whole? White teeth, against dark skin, working, working, screaming, choking in total silence?

"Sorry." White teeth, maybe that was laughter now, not screaming. "I thought, yeah. Obviously."

"It was, uhhhhmmm. Like doing a trick?" Expressive hands flickered outward. "Like a magic trick, except, I had to figure it out. Like building a box to make someone disappear. How to make sure no one heard us, keep him from using his gun. So I just," the hands came together, raking in phantom cards. "Put it together. What I needed to do, what needed to happen."

"But, that's... kind of the thing. I did it with," fingers waggled. "All of it. Like, I went through my casts and figured out which ones were going to make it happen."

Curious eyes looked up into a flat expanse of fenwater. See?

Because The Problem, without glitter.

[Avis]

"Ok, see, you half to work with me here, Star," Avis reprimanded, bringing the back of her hand down onto the opposite palm.

"You need to fucking describe what happened. You need to tell me how you figured it out! You fucking killed somebody, ok! I know that shit already!" she snapped, getting up and walking over to stand in front of him, literally getting in his face.

"What I need to know now is what was happening beneath those curls of yours when you plotted your murder," she ranted, jabbing a finger into his head.

"I need to understand how your instinct for murder works. Because it's not fighting I'm teaching you. It's killing. And that starts in the mind. That starts when you look at someone and you imagine what it would take for you to jam a fork into their neck. To look at a mop and not see a mop, but a splinter, a point that will punch through skin and rupture all those fun little hoses filled with blood! Do you understand now?"

[Star]

"Ow. Stop that."

Getting punched is one thing. Playing pincushion with someone's dome is another.

Deep breaths.

"I told you. You have to listen, too. You don't understand because you don't understand, not because I didn't tell you. Because you, you, you're like flash paper. Like I don't understand how you go from zero to... angry... in a second?" Careful with the word choice yo. "I'm like, like an old electric stove. Like the element has to heat up."

Instinct? It's a decision.

"Like, I did not look at you one day and make a, a, snap decision that I was interested. Like you are yelling and, whatever that head poke was, and it's okay right now but I will, like, get annoyed and then mad if you keep doing it. I get what you're saying about the fork. And mop. I just... I think I just go slower." Wait. There's more. "But I cool down, slower, too. Okay?"

Please.

"I mean... I spent, like, five minutes figuring out the thing with Omar. I literally planned out each step. Which spell I could kill him with. Which spell to keep him from shooting me. Which spell to keep him from calling the fat guy upstairs for help. I can improvise. I can."

Hand slid upward, fingers splayed. Palms inward.

"But I'm used to doing it with spells. Not these. So. Can we try something... different? Maybe tell me what I should be thinking, instead of what I was thinking, because this is a different way to do it."

[Avis]

She'd been ready to jab him again, and tell him 'no, its supposed to hurt!', but she didn't really want it to. She didn't like seeing the way his face twisted up when she'd bounced her finger off his skull. That was what stopped her, and gave him enough time to start getting more words out. Words which she didn't understand at first, because her mind was so filled with other thoughts, but eventually his point began to register. A point in opposition, but there was nothing strange in that. That two minds would have different thoughts. Which, really, was the true conflict here. Finding the way to translate the message so it rang true in both minds. Harmonious, but not homogeneous.

"Ok, fine, we'll try something different," Avis told him, stepping back and pacing away to about eight feet, then turning back to face him. "I've gotta say, though, that you're under an illusion, that what I'm going to teach you is different. It's not. It's understanding how to use the Lie to bring about death. Understanding how the body is weak, and vulnerable. So here's what we're going to do. You're going to choose a weapon," she explained, gesturing to the utensils, plates, pans, and mops, "and then walk up to me and explain how you'd use it to kill me. Let's get the base line."

[Star]

Was it different?

Maybe the How.

Focus, grasshopper. The mop bobbed, then the Guardian moved over to the assortment. Options, options. Silverware? Pictures knife, spinning, arcing through the... no. This isn't throwing cards. Okay. Remember, for thousands of years, things haven't changed. Fastest way to kill... anything? Make holes in it. The bigger, the better.

Nature protects itself. It takes a while, but it learns.

Long fingers drifted over a knife, and picked it up.

"The human body has three major points of vulnerability. The brain, the heart, and the throat." Words drifted out, a near monotone recital directed as much to the knife being held as anyone in particular. What? Guess who was a medical undergrad. "Of those three, the throat is the least well protected. Breaking the mop handle would be sharper, but it would be harder to fit between ribs or through an eye socket if the throat is a no-go. The bucket handle might be usable as a garrote but I don't think I'm strong enough."

Plus a little training. Because Smiley's People.

"I would, ummmm. Okay, ummmm. Because of your height, ummmm."

It's hard to describe something without visualizing it. True story. Eyes landed on The Target. A sturdy neck, not too long or short, not thin but not thick, beginning just under the slight point of a chin. Soft, pale skin where a necklace belonged.

"Ummmm. Aren't there, like, practice dummies? Like when I learned to shoot, like, we shot at targets?"