2010-01-31: Kill Zone (Phantasm)



Posting Date: January 31st, 2010


When Jessica and Logan are bored, it sucks for humanity.

"Kill Zone"

New York City

Figures move along a dark street. To the average eye, they look like ordinary people, but others know better. They're soldiers in a war. There's no such thing as ordinary. There's us and there's them. To some, it's even simpler: it's me and them.

The figures are entrapped in sniper's sights, a circular target that follows them wherever they move. Three men, one woman. They don't know what's coming, what it is that hits them so fast that they collapse immediately, bleeding from the oh-so-crucial areas the sniper had in their expert crosshairs. Them. They. Humans without abilities. Didn't stand a chance.

"Too easy. How is it that they're winning again?" A female voice murmurs to herself. Towering high, high above the decimated city of New York, Jessica, lying on her belly like a snake, looks away from the sights of the rather intense rifle that's been affixed to the edge of a wide, glassless window— or is it just that no wall has been built? — of a half-gutted building. Metal girders make up its skeleton on this high floor, and construction materials are strewn everywhere. Looks like a project that got interrupted by the war. Though a hint of amusement skirts the woman's face, she also seems … bored, and drinks from a silver flask nearby before planting her chin in her hand. Yawn.

Balancing on one of the girders, even though he doesn't have to (he can fly, after all), Logan literally hops down one girder towards Jessica. He doesn't seem particularly concerned about slipping — or falling, for that matter — and continues hopping along the girder, with a sly smile spread over his lips. "You're bored," he observes plainly, still smiling as he approaches. Yet, he's not stupid enough to get too close. In fact, he stays safely out of reach, for now anyways.

He's dressed entirely in black. His black pants and black shirt are concealed by an undone black trench that falls to his ankles. There's no tie or trace of colour. No, this former politico isn't trying to impress anyone. In fact, he's likely trying to disappear against the colour of the night sky — which is black. A flying man could easily conceal himself against such a backdrop, in a chameleon way.

As soon as literal drop-in visitor speaks, the high-powered sniper rifle is swung free, Logan is placed in Jessica's sharpshooter sights, and the weapon fires at him, all in one skilled flash — a matter of seconds. Bang.

The shot sails wide, to his left. "Just kidding!" The woman tips her head around the rifle, boredom replaced — at least in part — by bona fide amusement in the form of a wide open wicked grin. Pretending to shoot someone may not be as satisfying as the real thing (even though that's getting to be a bore), but it's funny. She gets to her feet with a simple push on the floor and limber spring of her legs and regards Logan with the rifle slung over her shoulder like a baseball bat between games. "I'm picking them off like ants up here. Gotta tell you, it's losing its challenge."

As the gun is fired, Logan jumps just a little. And as the bullet doesn't hit him, he just clucks his tongue and shakes his head. He eyes the gun and the woman in turn, but his wicked grin remains. "At least you're successful at it," his tone is somewhat bitter as he glances down below. "A good perch though."

He hmms at the notion of Jessica's growing boredom, and can't help but cluck his tongue again. "Then maybe it's time to expand our horizons." His eyebrows arch incredulously. "They say variety is the spice of life. Have you considered taking one of them." His lips curl upwards further, exposing a dimpled wicked grin, "I bet we could have some fun."

Jessica unsolders the rifle, shoves the safety on and tosses it on the ground where it was mounted, by the abandoned flask of alcohol. She idly wipes dust off the black stretch lace of her shirt and raises an eyebrow boldly at the man. "Taking one?" She laughs, an indulgent sound that skims through her breath. "Cute," she says in a tone that is most definitely patronizing. On that note, she turns and saunters into the shadows of the breezy building. "What do you think I do all day?"

Scattered in the corners are people — or rather, parts of them. It's a grisly, grisly sight, one which Jessica observes with a pleased calm, one hand going to the curve of her hip. Given the scraps of armour, guns and torn uniforms strewn about amidst … everything else, it looks like there might have been a temporary encampment up here.

"Yet you're still bored," Logan says idly as he crosses his arm over his chest. His jaw tighten, but his wicked grin remains. "At least you've been busy. Not everyone has been so… fortunate," his voice comes out in a hiss as he glances at the parts of people before returning his gaze to Jessica. "I never thought torture was quite your style." He shrugs before clucking his tongue again.

"There are those that are pushing for peaceful resolution," the comment is said rather idly as he reaches into the pocket of his coat and plucks a vial. "But I wonder." Beat. "Why aim for peace when domination is so enticing? And when power could easily go to those who are, in essence, more powerful, it doesn't even make logical sense, does it Ms. Sanders?"

"Torture's only a side effect." Hard not to be tortured when you're being torn limb from limb. After a moment, Jessica spins on her heel. There's a smirk present to greet Logan when she does. Blue eyes, dark in the shadows, fix on that vial. Crossing her arms in front of her securely, she strolls closer, back the way she came. "Not really," she says, looking him up and down. "Spit it out, Mr. Petrelli. You have a plan?"

"This is what they're using on us," Logan says as he stares at the vial. "Nulls abilities, apparently." He narrows his eyes at her before his smile transforms to a smirk, "There's always a plan brewing." He chuckles mirthlessly before he reaches into his other pocket. "Problem with their fluid is… it's identical to a number of other serums. It's odourless, tasteless, lacks colour. In all respects, it could be water." He chuckles again reaching into his other pocket. "In fact, it would be easy to introduce to the water supply." He tilts his head, a knowing look painted across his features. "And with no one with abilities, how easy would it be to take charge? Gods among men, my dear."

"I know what it is," Jessica hisses. It's the only thing that can make her weak. She considers the twist Logan presents, her tongue between her teeth, poised to smirk, eyes narrowed. She sees where he's going… and she's likely one of the few people who wouldn't think it abhorrent. "The normals are dumber than I thought if they haven't already tried it themselves."

"They don't know the effect it's have on them," Logan says with a still present smirk. "And neither do we. Although… maybe they do know what the side effect is…" The smirk grows into a wicked grin followed by a shoulder shrug. He drops his hands to his side, still balancing on the girder. "We could assume control. A select few of us; an oligarchy of sorts. And we could keep everyone else depowered." The smirk continues.

Point. Jessica gives a shrug; who cares what side effects it has. Not her. The woes of humanity are the least of her worries. A grin to match Logan's is rapidly spreading across her mouth. She saunters closer until she's at the very edge and steps onto the metal girder in a tightrope walk step, ignoring the fatal drop a misstep would incur. She doesn't appear to be afraid of heights — or of Logan. "We could do whatever we want."

"And never get bored," Logan says through his still smiling lips. Pleased that he seems to have struck a cord with Jessica, his arms cross easily over his chest once again. Consequences for the rest of the humanity are a happy result of the plan for him; the death toll will only be to their credit. He hmmms one more time before quipping, "We are the future of humanity. We may as well live it up."

The future of humanity, huh. "Sucks to be humanity." But don't mistake her tone for sympathy. Far from it. Jessica strolls close enough along the beam to reach out and grab for the collar of the man's shirt — gotta make due in lieu of a tie — and hauls. There's nothing violent about the— okay, it's violent, but the gesture isn't outright malicious. There's a dangerously simmering enticement in her eyes. Holding on, the blonde walks backwards, sure of her lofty step as she tries to lure the flying man inside.

And the collar she manages to retrieve, and sure enough Logan follows her inside, if only to service his own curious; he's always had a thing for blondes, after all.

Lucky Jessica. She smiles in indulgent satisfaction — whether it's over her boots hitting solid ground again or at Logan isn't exactly clear. The expression certainly lingers, though, as she trails a finger or two down the ex-politician's chest. "Mmm, we might make a great team," she murmurs, suggestive, due in no small part to the fact that she's stepped in close, so close that her next words practically fall on the man's lips. "But… you and I both know we don't play well with others."

Jessica's trailing hand turns out to be tracing a path. When X marks the spot, she plunges viciously inward with her impossible strength. "I'm just speeding up the inevitable."

There really is no time to react. Logan is left at Jessica's mercy, her hand easily enters his chest, thanks to her ability, and he gasps for air. The blood loss is immense, even on impact. He croaks, "You… can — " but Jessica can, and she did. The lights go dark for the ex-politico as he slumps forward.

"You're right, I can!" Jessica can't help but laugh. A crunch adds insult to injury as the super strong once-alter-ego uses her vice grip to go that much deeper and make that much more sure the man won't be getting another breath.

Meanwhile, the vial is pried (hardly!) from Logan's grasp. "Interesting little idea you have though," she says, even though it probably falls on deaf ears, as she gives the thing a playful shake with her free hand. The other is quite busy squeezing. "So." The woman wrenches her hand free. It was some feat of nightmare logic that her hands weren't already bloody, given the bodies strewn about, but now it's vividly present all the way past her wrist. She lets Logan drop, stepping back so he doesn't slump all over her. "Kudos for that."

Dead. Logan is dead. His body slumps over and falls beneath the girder, falling to the ground with a clang. But another clang can be heard from the opposite end of the girder — far away from where Logan and Jessica had talked. It lingers in the darkness and had managed to stay silent until now, frowning to itself, the figure is unsure the approach to use now. And it doesn't dare move again. It knows the plan, and it can't let that happen, but to shoot Jessica would be… heart breaking.

Jessica is well on her way, walking away from the Logan; now, he's just another body like the rest of them. As she bends down to swipe the flask from the ground and take the rifle back up, casual and methodical both, she pauses. Slowly, she stands up straight and tucks the flask in the back pocket of her jeans before levelling the high-powered weapon in the direction of the noise…


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