Categories > Anime/Manga > Trigun > needful
Kelly Morgan
1 reviewA serial killer is on the loose, one who leaves his victims in twisted configurations that have earned him the name “Picasso.” Detective Nicholas D. Wolfwood is assigned the case, unaware that ...
2Ambiance
Title: needful
Author: Mostly Harmless
Summary: A serial killer is on the loose, one who leaves his victims in twisted configurations that have earned him the name "Picasso." Detective Nicholas D. Wolfwood is assigned the case, unaware that he's about to become part of the killer's dangerous game. When "Picasso" becomes obsessed with him, Wolfwood is pulled into his dark, diseased world and can feel his own mind slipping away into madness.
Rating: R
Pairings: Wolfwood/Legato
Warnings: Violence, disturbing content, sexual themes, graphic language. Alternate Universe.
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needful
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Part I: Kelly Morgan
Kelly Morgan lived in a small blue house that had been converted into even smaller apartments. She woke every morning in time to feed her cat, shower and get dressed. Then she packed her backpack, grabbed her keys and hustled to her blue two-door. This was done in the same way every day with only the clothes, hair, and contents of the backpack changing.
Kelly Morgan pulled out of her driveway every morning at 9:00 and arrived in her class promptly at 9:15 with enough time to eat a granola bar and drink a juice before her chemistry teacher began his lecture. Apple juice was her favorite though she also drank orange juice and the occasional soda. She wanted to be a veterinarian.
Her classes ended at 1:20. She always headed to the nearby gym and stayed there for an hour. After a shower, she came home and called her mother. She watched TV and sometimes read a book then napped on her couch, and only woke when her phone rang or the cat meowed. Then Kelly Morgan did homework until it got dark.
At 10:00 every night, you could catch Kelly heading to work unless she called off sick or switched shifts. Sometimes, if she was late, she ran to her car in full gear: slinky dress and high heels. Other times she packed a bag and dressed at the club.
Until 2:00 you could find Kelly dancing on a bar or stage, sliding down a pole and gyrating to loud music. What they did not give her in salary, she made up for in the tips that wealthy gentlemen and working class Joes slid into her thong strap.
She left the club and was home by 2:30 every night to sleep and repeat the pattern. Kelly was reliable, predictable. Kelly seemed very happy. You could tell in the way she cooed when she scratched her cat's overlarge belly, in the way she laughed to her mother on the phone. Yes, Kelly Morgan liked her life.
He liked Kelly's life too. He liked Kelly.
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Part II: The Dance
He was watching her. For the half hour he followed her, he noticed the soft scuffing sound her cheap shoes made on the concrete. He could hear the jingling of her heavy earrings and smell her perfume. All these things were so familiar. These were the same earrings he had watched her place on her delicate lobes countless times. The fragrance was the same she wore every night when she worked. He had watched her buy a new bottle of it seven weeks ago. The purse was the same cheap material as the shoes, but the dress, ah! The dress was new.
Expensive fabric clinging to her curves and moving with her long strides. That was his favorite part: her movements, for truly she moved like a dancer. As if at any moment she would suddenly start swaying with music only she could hear. It gave him ideas. This one was interesting enough to hold his attention. Four months was a long time to wait, but he liked games and this one was lots of fun.
He did not want her to change, not really, but he liked watching her reaction when something unusual happened. Sometimes she would find dead animals on her doorstep. Sometimes her alarm did not go off even though she knew she set it. Her water heater mysteriously died. Her phone lines were severed once or twice. He never followed a pattern in the things he did to her. No, he was very careful. He couldn't give the game away by being careless. So he spaced these occurrences far apart, watching her react, watching her scoop the small creature into plastic bags with tears in her eyes. Kelly loved cats. He liked them too. Every time she disposed of one he recalled how their fur felt when he clutched their heads and snapped their necks. Games like this were a lot of fun.
Unfortunately, the game had to end sometime. He had known the exact moment she became suspicious. It was not carelessness on his part; it was something else, something primal. The same thing that makes the hair stand up on the back of your neck when you know someone is there, watching you. The same thing that makes mice freeze and sniff the air, searching for the cat nearby.
It had been weeks since she last left the house while he was there, hidden and watching. Of course he couldn't be there all the time, but he had his ways, his little network. He had been disappointed at first; he had considered her a woman of such spirit. But she had gone into hiding the moment she knew something was not quite right. He screamed and destroyed his hotel room when she first deviated from her pattern, and the tantrums only got worse when he realized she was not going to return to it.
How he imagined what was going on inside her pretty little head. How she told herself it was irrational, that she had no reason to feel this way, but the feeling did not disappear. In fact, it grew stronger everyday and she found herself growing cautious, fearful, paranoid.
There was no real limit to the times she checked the lock every night. And her neck was sore from craning it around behind her. Leaving the house was a nightmare, as was even going near the door, but she had to eat and that meant working.
How her grades were suffering! And her boss was furious! One more time and she was fired. To make matters worse, her usually efficient, reliable car had mysteriously died this morning. And no money for a cab, and no friends who knew her late night profession to call for a ride. She had to walk to work.
So she hurried, head swiveling in alertness in the hope that if she saw him first, she might have the chance to run and get away.
This was the best part: the final, fading moments before one game ended and another began.
Because they were never fast enough. Never strong enough.
When his hand clamped down over Kelly's mouth, he enjoyed the feeling of her teeth against his palm. She had such perfect teeth. And it was almost sexual, pressing her down into the pavement and ending it all, his body heavy on top of hers, her full breasts imprinting the fabric over his chest.
Her eyes were wide, leaking tears.
"Shhh," he whispered. He stroked the top of her head, her little face. Yes, here was his prey, trembling, eyes half mad with the kind of fear only those with one leg over a cliff can know. Those with a twitching finger on the trigger of a gun whose cold tip is pressed against their temple. Those who have met the means to their own end.
When hers came, her breath caught on a scream and then she jerked against him, limbs flailing, hips pushing against his own and all the little movements that proved to him that her body hadn't realized it was dead. There was a rhythm to her body as it pulsed and throbbed like a dance marking its own ending. He pushed down into it, loving the feel. And then she went limp, still and warm as if in afterglow.
"Kelly," he breathed against her neck and almost came when he felt it snap.
To Be Continued...
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Hello, welcome to one of my many WIP fics, "needful." According to the document properties, this one has been sitting on my computer for over two years. Scary. I really want to try my best to finish it, but...well, I have a bad reputation for never finishing fics...
I owe a lot to the following for inspiration for this one:
"The Watcher" (the film starring Keanu Reeves...it's not very good, but the idea was nice)
"Prayers for Rain" (the novel by Dennis LeHane)
"The Magician's Tale" (the novel by David Hunt (William Bayer))
And, of course, I own neither these, nor Trigun.
Author: Mostly Harmless
Summary: A serial killer is on the loose, one who leaves his victims in twisted configurations that have earned him the name "Picasso." Detective Nicholas D. Wolfwood is assigned the case, unaware that he's about to become part of the killer's dangerous game. When "Picasso" becomes obsessed with him, Wolfwood is pulled into his dark, diseased world and can feel his own mind slipping away into madness.
Rating: R
Pairings: Wolfwood/Legato
Warnings: Violence, disturbing content, sexual themes, graphic language. Alternate Universe.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
needful
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Part I: Kelly Morgan
Kelly Morgan lived in a small blue house that had been converted into even smaller apartments. She woke every morning in time to feed her cat, shower and get dressed. Then she packed her backpack, grabbed her keys and hustled to her blue two-door. This was done in the same way every day with only the clothes, hair, and contents of the backpack changing.
Kelly Morgan pulled out of her driveway every morning at 9:00 and arrived in her class promptly at 9:15 with enough time to eat a granola bar and drink a juice before her chemistry teacher began his lecture. Apple juice was her favorite though she also drank orange juice and the occasional soda. She wanted to be a veterinarian.
Her classes ended at 1:20. She always headed to the nearby gym and stayed there for an hour. After a shower, she came home and called her mother. She watched TV and sometimes read a book then napped on her couch, and only woke when her phone rang or the cat meowed. Then Kelly Morgan did homework until it got dark.
At 10:00 every night, you could catch Kelly heading to work unless she called off sick or switched shifts. Sometimes, if she was late, she ran to her car in full gear: slinky dress and high heels. Other times she packed a bag and dressed at the club.
Until 2:00 you could find Kelly dancing on a bar or stage, sliding down a pole and gyrating to loud music. What they did not give her in salary, she made up for in the tips that wealthy gentlemen and working class Joes slid into her thong strap.
She left the club and was home by 2:30 every night to sleep and repeat the pattern. Kelly was reliable, predictable. Kelly seemed very happy. You could tell in the way she cooed when she scratched her cat's overlarge belly, in the way she laughed to her mother on the phone. Yes, Kelly Morgan liked her life.
He liked Kelly's life too. He liked Kelly.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Part II: The Dance
He was watching her. For the half hour he followed her, he noticed the soft scuffing sound her cheap shoes made on the concrete. He could hear the jingling of her heavy earrings and smell her perfume. All these things were so familiar. These were the same earrings he had watched her place on her delicate lobes countless times. The fragrance was the same she wore every night when she worked. He had watched her buy a new bottle of it seven weeks ago. The purse was the same cheap material as the shoes, but the dress, ah! The dress was new.
Expensive fabric clinging to her curves and moving with her long strides. That was his favorite part: her movements, for truly she moved like a dancer. As if at any moment she would suddenly start swaying with music only she could hear. It gave him ideas. This one was interesting enough to hold his attention. Four months was a long time to wait, but he liked games and this one was lots of fun.
He did not want her to change, not really, but he liked watching her reaction when something unusual happened. Sometimes she would find dead animals on her doorstep. Sometimes her alarm did not go off even though she knew she set it. Her water heater mysteriously died. Her phone lines were severed once or twice. He never followed a pattern in the things he did to her. No, he was very careful. He couldn't give the game away by being careless. So he spaced these occurrences far apart, watching her react, watching her scoop the small creature into plastic bags with tears in her eyes. Kelly loved cats. He liked them too. Every time she disposed of one he recalled how their fur felt when he clutched their heads and snapped their necks. Games like this were a lot of fun.
Unfortunately, the game had to end sometime. He had known the exact moment she became suspicious. It was not carelessness on his part; it was something else, something primal. The same thing that makes the hair stand up on the back of your neck when you know someone is there, watching you. The same thing that makes mice freeze and sniff the air, searching for the cat nearby.
It had been weeks since she last left the house while he was there, hidden and watching. Of course he couldn't be there all the time, but he had his ways, his little network. He had been disappointed at first; he had considered her a woman of such spirit. But she had gone into hiding the moment she knew something was not quite right. He screamed and destroyed his hotel room when she first deviated from her pattern, and the tantrums only got worse when he realized she was not going to return to it.
How he imagined what was going on inside her pretty little head. How she told herself it was irrational, that she had no reason to feel this way, but the feeling did not disappear. In fact, it grew stronger everyday and she found herself growing cautious, fearful, paranoid.
There was no real limit to the times she checked the lock every night. And her neck was sore from craning it around behind her. Leaving the house was a nightmare, as was even going near the door, but she had to eat and that meant working.
How her grades were suffering! And her boss was furious! One more time and she was fired. To make matters worse, her usually efficient, reliable car had mysteriously died this morning. And no money for a cab, and no friends who knew her late night profession to call for a ride. She had to walk to work.
So she hurried, head swiveling in alertness in the hope that if she saw him first, she might have the chance to run and get away.
This was the best part: the final, fading moments before one game ended and another began.
Because they were never fast enough. Never strong enough.
When his hand clamped down over Kelly's mouth, he enjoyed the feeling of her teeth against his palm. She had such perfect teeth. And it was almost sexual, pressing her down into the pavement and ending it all, his body heavy on top of hers, her full breasts imprinting the fabric over his chest.
Her eyes were wide, leaking tears.
"Shhh," he whispered. He stroked the top of her head, her little face. Yes, here was his prey, trembling, eyes half mad with the kind of fear only those with one leg over a cliff can know. Those with a twitching finger on the trigger of a gun whose cold tip is pressed against their temple. Those who have met the means to their own end.
When hers came, her breath caught on a scream and then she jerked against him, limbs flailing, hips pushing against his own and all the little movements that proved to him that her body hadn't realized it was dead. There was a rhythm to her body as it pulsed and throbbed like a dance marking its own ending. He pushed down into it, loving the feel. And then she went limp, still and warm as if in afterglow.
"Kelly," he breathed against her neck and almost came when he felt it snap.
To Be Continued...
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Hello, welcome to one of my many WIP fics, "needful." According to the document properties, this one has been sitting on my computer for over two years. Scary. I really want to try my best to finish it, but...well, I have a bad reputation for never finishing fics...
I owe a lot to the following for inspiration for this one:
"The Watcher" (the film starring Keanu Reeves...it's not very good, but the idea was nice)
"Prayers for Rain" (the novel by Dennis LeHane)
"The Magician's Tale" (the novel by David Hunt (William Bayer))
And, of course, I own neither these, nor Trigun.
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