Vow
by Shuvcat (c) 2000
Faith and her magic knife vs. Shirley Manson's alter ego Supervixen in Hell's version of WWF Smackdown, with the Garbage song playing in the background. R-rated, violent, mindless sillyfic. I was bored. :)
Shirley Manson rocks mightily, and this is in no way meant to slam her or her music. It's just for fun.
Garbage own the song and themselves; Joss Whedon, Fox, Mutant Enemy, and the WB own everyone else.
I came to knock you down
I came around to tear your little world apart...." In a stone arena, under a roiling blood red sky, Faith looked around herself. Three hundred yards of circular trap, with a flat red sand surface. Seats were carved into the cement, stair-stepping up toward the dark red clouds. Thunder grumbled. "Hey, kids!!" A familiar, chirpy voice blared over the grumbling thunder, echoing sharply on the stone. "Heck of a day for a bloodbath, huh?!" Faith's head jerked at the familiar, lunatic cackling. "Boss?!" He was standing up on a platform, outlined against the red sky, gripping a mike, dressed in an uncharacteristic polyester suit and looking every bit like Wink Martindale on speed, grinning madly down at her. "In this corner, weighing in at a cute lil 124... you've really got to put some meat on those bones, kid... the lovely and talented Fi-re-crac-ker Faith--" A bizarre, rippling crackle of thunder drowned out his last word. Faith looked around at the arena -- no doors, nothing to climb on, no way out. Her hand automatically went under her coat and her fingers carressed something long, sharp, and beautiful-- her knife. It was better than wicked pretty -- it was magic. It was her only defense against.... "And in this cor-nah!!" The Mayor swept his arm to the opposite end of the arena, near-unviewable in the red flashes of lightning. "Straight from the fiery netherrealm, the sultry Scotch kitten -- ah, do we have any scotch, by the way?.... her boys call her Shirl but you can call her SUP-erVIX-en!!" The lightning and the dull red sky illuminated a petite, leggy girl posing boredly at the end of the arena, her brilliant red hair tied in a ponytail so tight that it looked as though it were keeping her pale skin attached to her cheekbones, red lips pouting as though she'd rather not be there, clad in a tight red miniskirt that looked straight off an episode of Lost in Space. Her icy green eyes gazed steadily at the slender, dark Slayer, and the corners of her mouth perked in an evil smile. Faith's own glossy lips curved in a wicked sneer. "God. They got me up against Miss Parker." Up in the bleachers, three men clad in sunglasses and identical shades of black sat quietly and each held up a giant card, reading in succession: YOU-GO-SHIRL. Faith cupped her hands around her mouth, the better to scream across the huge arena with. "Got news for you, Red: you may as well bail. I'm cuter, I'm stronger, and I'll lay odds I'm scarier than you on PMS day." The pale girl tilted her red head. Her ponytail dripped off her shoulder. Her eyes were just evil. She raised one slender white arm and flicked her wrist. A vortex of fire the same red as her hair whipped up from the dirt, whirling over the ground, unfurling to fill the arena. Massive tongues of flame flung out over the stone seats. The Mayor dropped his mike and his scotch and hit the deck. Faith had no choice but to do the same, flattening against the dirt as the inferno blazed toward her. Her magical knife was clutched in her hand as she covered her head, and its magical properites formed a dome of protection over her -- a dome about the same consistency and width of airplane cockpit plastic, but it held up until the fiery tornado blew itself out. In the nosebleed seats, the three MIBs held up tape recorders of a crowd cheering like their team had scored a touchdown. Faith got to her hands and knees. SuperShirl or whatever she was smirked. "Scarier?" she uttered in a voice thickly dripping a Scottish burr. She laughed throatily. "Darling, nothing's scarier than me." "Wanna bet?" Faith grinned. Holding up her enchanted Hibben, she pointed it at the rock sorceress, screaming the one word she knew in Latin -- she didn't know what it meant, but screaming Latin at magic objects, she had found, was one surefire way to make them do... something. "Aroint ye!!" A violet flash lit out from the glowing blade, whipping toward the redhead like a throwing star. It would have cleaved the rocker neatly in wet halves if she'd been anyone else. Instead a spider-like mass of red matter suddenly ballooned from her sculpted breast and folded around her body, forming a rock-hard barrier around her heart. The ultraviolet barbs bounced painfully off, and Faith felt the impact like she'd been hit with one of them herself. Shirley backflipped across the arena, coming to a halt over the cringing body of the dark Slayer. As Faith looked up groggily from her pained reverie, the pale rock star grabbed Faith's cheeks and pulled her forward, planting their red lips together. Faith's arms flailed as poison flooded into her mouth and Shirley twisted her neck, delivering her acidic death kiss on the Slayer. "Hey, hey!!" The Mayor's game show host voice blared over the arena. "None of that now! You girls behave yourselves and fight like men, darn ya!" Good advice, thought Faith, and shot her knee up into Shirley's shapely legs. Boy or girl, it still hurt to get kicked down there, and it made the redhead break off her lethal french with a yelp. Faith served her a vicious backhand and, grabbing her magic knife, ripped it across Shirley's red midsection. At first nothing seemed to happen. As Shirley looked down at herself, a seam even redder than her outfit opened lengthwise across her tight belly. Her green eyes widened, and she tipped backward, her torso hitting the sand with a plop. Faith sneered. Spitting out the last of the poisonous bile in her mouth, she shoved the dark tendrils from her eyes and looked up at the Mayor. "So do I get a prize or what?!" she shouted hoarsely. But she hadn't won yet. Shirley's upper half was still moving. Moaning, the redhead's pale arms pushed her up, walking across the sand on her hands. Faith was too gruesomely intrigued watching this to stop her as the dismembered girl clambered up her still-standing legs and hopped on top of her severed hips. With a twist and shift, she was screwed back in place, two halves made one. In possession of her legs once more, the first thing Shirl did was launch a kick to Faith's face. The two girls battled on, ripping, wrestling, flinging magic left and right. They slammed each other into the sand, pushing each other's faces into the dirt, punching, kicking, generally playing dirty. About three hours into the fight, Faith realized with horror that the little red bitch was winning. That wasn't supposed to happen. Some purry little rock diva was beating her?! Yeah, she had magic, but still.... After getting hurled into the stone wall, face first against a tattered ad for Brill hair cream, Faith looked up and realized she was underneath the Mayor's press box. "Boss, what the hell's going on?! She's winning!" The Mayor cocked his head, a semi-sympathetic look on his face. "Yeah, I noticed! Are you not feeling up to speed today? You seem a little off." Faith blinked. "A little off? I've been fighting her for three hours straight! She oughta be a grease stain by now!" The Mayor shrugged, hunched paternally over the edge to talk to her. "Well, Faith, it's Hell. It's not supposed to be easy. You think this is fun for me? On this dirty concrete? In this suit?" He wrinkled his nose distastefully. Faith rolled her eyes. "Come on, just give me somethin' I can use. You gotta have some kind of tricks left. This knife kicks ass, but it's not much help when she keeps growing stuff back as soon as I whack it off!" And she would have said more, but just then Shirley grabbed her by her dark curling hair and flung her across the stadium. Oh, Faith had had enough of this shit. She got to her knees, knife raised and glowing, and ran at Shirley shrieking bloody murder, resolved to chop her up so hard and fast that the witch wouldn't have a chance to regenerate anything. The spacey looking chick finally cracked a smile, a real bitchy red grin as she raised her arms, working up enough whammy to probably zap her into next week. But she didn't quite make it. Faith succeeded in clipping off hands, arms, Shirley's head, and took another stab (ha ha) at severing her torso again. While Shirley's body parts crawled around like confused spiders for a while, finding each other and gathering together to be healed, Faith racked her brains for some more permanent solution. Think Faith think. Magic knife. Way cool. Cut through steel, gave off protection. Magic, magic....magic was supposed to grow with the wielder, wasn't it? The Mayor told her once that by the time he reached 150 he'd taught his sword to do everything from starting earthquakes to whipping up a really great batch of macaroni. Faith smiled, readying as the shapely body parts reassembled themselves. Time to teach her dog a new trick. And if what she'd read in Rolling Stone was true...... She pointed her knife at Shirley, who was coming at her with death in her eyes. "Violetta!!" she bellowed. Flash. Shirley looked down. Her slinky red miniskirt was now a charming shade of purple. Her glossy fingernails were purple. Though she couldn't see her hair, it was also now a brilliant violet color. She was head to toe purple. Shirley looked extremely pissed off. "I HATE purple!!" she squealed, running out of the arena in disgust for the nearest hairstylist. Faith sheathed her knife, the undisputable victor. Thunder crashed mightily, signifying the end of the battle. The Mayor looked quite pleased as he stood up in the bleachers. "There's my girl!!" he applauded, the sound echoing over the landscape. "I think somebody's earned herself a brand new toy!" Faith looked up at him, hopeful. "PS2?" The Mayor beamed. "Release day model!" he gushed. Faith glowed. She shot her fist back in glee. "Yes!!" she cheered.
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