Dead Reckoning
Shame
Disclaimer: Hahaha—no. I do not, nor will I ever, own any media showcased in this piece of fanfiction. They all belong to their respective creators and owners. The only thing I (barely) own is this piece are the written works and the original characters within it.
Warnings: There will be cursing, violence, mild nudity, blood, gore, and a few other minor things under the rainbow with this fic.
Notes: Hi, my name is Shay-Shay and I don't know how to stop myself. I think I need to be stopped. Pffft. Ahem. Moving on.
In the spirit of Left Behind and its counterpart drabble series, Dying Light, I've decided to do the same for Crash: make a series of drabbles. Now, for Crash, it's a bigger story. Left Behind is just one aspect of the Crash 'Verse. In fact, it's actually a small slice of background nuances than anything, and everything in Dying Light is even smaller to reflect smaller moments in time. Dead Reckoning is similar in that respect, but with a wider and broader cast to select from and write drabbles for.
Because really? I won't have the time to show every scene or moment in time with secondary or tertiary background characters up front and center at all times in Crash if I'm to stick with the main schedule of the plot. Just like in My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic (yes, I'm using that as reference, hush, my lovelies), they normally focus on one or two or all of the Mane Six—but every once in a while, we get glimpses of the secondary characters and how their lives are going, and how in their few minutes of limelight, they're the main character in that moment.
That's what Dead Reckoning is going to be.
Because you can only see where you're going by knowing where you've been.
OoOoOoOoOoO
"So this device, it can pull up whatever information you desire?"
"Yes. I can also send information or a message or an inquiry, in an instant and pretty much get a response back just as quick. We don't have to write a letter, send it out by bird or dragon or ship or whatever it is you do, and wait for weeks and months to pass before a response is given. It's…complicated."
"Yes, I suppose, but at the same time…it's simple."
Lupin tapped on the keys of her laptop keyboard, staring at the bright screen and the wall of text sitting in the open window. Her expression turned thunderous as she scanned the article she had been reading minutes before.
"I don't believe this."
"What is it?"
She hesitated before scrolling up. At the top, the headline read in bold print, "Woman Sacrifices Life to Save Others in Deadly Shootout at LAX". The article went on a very bland description of speculation, how details were still being sorted out, and what investigators were doing to ensure this type of security breach won't happen again. No mentions of her name or who she was, or who even the shooter was were mentioned at all. She doubted it very much anyone would even remember what she looked like, only that she had been some random woman involved in a shooting at an airport. It felt very…apt. Sad, but apt.
The first photograph shown featured a grainy security camera still, with a shadowy figure holding up a gun. Grappling the arm of the figure, trying to wrest away the gun in their hand was herself. Valka leaned in closer, studying the picture. After her initial shock at looking at Lupin's computer, she adapted surprisingly fast.
"Is that you?"
"…yes." She answered reluctantly, sucking in a breath between her teeth. "Technology has obviously advanced, and so much more as well. Weapons are one of them. We have these things called guns, and they can fire off something called a bullet. It's a small projectile that can go faster than an arrow and do just as much, if not more, damage to someone."
Lupin dropped her gaze to her hands, and they strayed to the tattoo on her left hand: a bright four-leafed clover with a bold number thirteen imprinted in the middle. She gathered her next words carefully, grateful that Valka was being so patient.
"It's like I told you before…I was shot in the head. Now, normally I can't die, not like that. Normal bullets made of lead, copper, whatever…they can't do much to me except piss me off when I get back up. But Chimera Dynamics hired this asshole, whoever he was, to use silver bullets to keep me down and out for the count. I just didn't know about it, he must have masked its scent from me somehow. Otherwise, I would've been more careful and quite possible, I wouldn't be here right now."
"And silver can kill you."
"Yes," Lupin said with a resigned nod and a tightness in her chest. "Silver can kill me."
Valka placed a hand on Lupin's shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. The werewolf glanced over at her, reading the genuine concern written in her eyes. She offered a smile, small and fleeting, but assuring.
"I won't let that happen to you. I give you my word."
Lupin wished she could accept her word, but at the same time, she felt doubt and skepticism rear their ugly heads in the back of her mind. They whispered away poisonous little words of uncertainty and disquiet, making her hesitant to respond in kind. It wasn't that Lupin didn't want to believe Valka and her conviction, far from it.
But one glance at the computer screen and at the photograph still lingering there made her question whether or not it could be a valid feat.
I thought I was untouchable because I wasn't human and because I was a Marine. Look how easily those assholes at Chimera Dynamics showed me that isn't true. That they could simply reach out and pluck away that confidence I had been strutting around with all these years.
Despite all the bravado she's put up between herself and the world, her self-assurance was crushed. It was only salt rubbed in the wounds with what Thrax had showcased weeks ago. If she couldn't even keep herself standing up straight, how in the hell could she expect anyone else to help her?
Valka's smile slowly broke away the longer Lupin went without answering and the grip on her shoulder loosened and fell, the ghost of her touch barely even there. Lupin averted her gaze and felt her cheeks burning.
Coward.
