This popped into my head, it isn't much but a little drabble of sorts. Let me know what you think.
Rifka J
There's a lavish party in a swank hotel with the best view this side of Mars, there's an unsuspecting mark throwing stolen woolongs left and right, and there's a dangerous girl in a slinky red dress on the balcony, waiting to be his downfall. She's been leading him on for weeks – it's a small, sick pleasure for her to think he might fancy himself in love - and tonight she'll cash in on the bounty. But the mark isn't going anywhere anytime soon, and the girl is enjoying the small taste of an easy, luxurious world she doesn't live in, so the mark is left alone at a poker table while the girl sips top shelf liquor, and contemplates how she got here. Not here as in the hotel, per se, but here in an all encompassing, life kind of way. She laughs to herself; it's not like her to dwell on the big questions – the brave new future she woke to years ago taught her that shallow minds and shallow hearts didn't get hurt – because dwelling on such deep thoughts was a one way ticket to the land of depression and broken hearts.
That kind of thinking was best left to the man with two toned eyes and a devastating smirk she can't seem to get out of her head, a confident smirk easy to hate and haunted eyes easy to lose one's self in. But that man is gone - gone chasing a ghost, gone from her life, gone from this reality or dream, depending on who's naming what – completely gone, she thinks to herself, so maybe it is acceptable for her to fault his absence and do a little introspection. All in all, everything she's done could be blamed on that damnable man. The place she was meant to crash and burn turned into a home she was dragged back to by him, made in the form of an ex cop, spastic genius, data dog, and him. He begrudged her a place in a dysfunctional pseudo family she didn't want, and when she found it the only option she had left, the only people she could tentatively call trustworthy, the only place she could call home on this damned plane of fucked up existence, he had the audacity to leave and take it all away. She couldn't even chase him down to drag his ass back from all his dream nonsense and make his life a living hell. Anger with no outlet only settles into bitterness, and she was practically choking on the sour taste of it in the back of her throat.
The next day the mark in a well rumpled suit is sitting behind bars looking at the girl in the dress with something akin to heartbreak in his eyes. He asks "Why?" so brokenly it makes her laugh at the sheer amount of pathetic his voice holds. "Why? There is no why," it's what she's been trying to convince herself of, " Let me give you a small piece of wisdom darling," she purrs, and she's surprising herself with the words burning her lips, old memories of large ships and the occupants brought to the forefront of her mind, "Survival of the fittest is the law of nature. We deceive or we are deceived…" It's about time she remembers her own advice and take it to heart.
"… Nothing good ever happens when you trust others." It's all his fault for making her forget her own life lesson.
Spike Spiegel is nothing but easy to blame in Faye Valentine's eyes.