A leopard cannot change it's spots
Author: Dela26
Rating: PG-13 for language, sexual content, and the dark, psychotic mind that is Elle Bishop
Summary: Or, The Lost Bishop Files… Elle-centric. Prequel to Electric Firefly and Just Another Day on the Job, though you don't necessarily need to read them to enjoy this fic.
Author's Note. Un-betaed. I love trying out different writing styles to capture the dark history and psychotic nature of my favorite electric firecracker. Reviews=love!!!!
Research Notes.
The subject has the ability of electrical generation and manipulation. It is still unclear how the evolved human is able to create and control the energy. Subject verbally reported: "Like breathing, my sparks just happen naturally." Our first experiment revealed that the she is able to power a light bulb. Several follow up studies were conducted to determine the full extent of her ability. One of the evolved agents ensures that the subject does not have any conscious memory of the experiments, although it is speculated that the subject demonstrates unconscious knowledge and potentially procedural or implicit memory. For example, experimenters have subjectively noted that the client becomes increasingly agitated when she is in laboratory settings or interacts with research team members within the Company, but she does not have any conscious memory to support her paranoia. Upon entering puberty, the subject's ability further evolved to unexpected heights. Most recent recording reveals that she can transform her entire physical makeup into pure electrical energy and is able to experience a connection and sense of control of all surrounding entities that possess electrical power. Additionally, when at its peak, the intense currents of the subjects electrical ability allows her to create a fleeting but very strong magnetic field (see electromagnetism test notes for more details). It is unknown how much energy she can create, manipulate and control. Upon her recent display of her ability, it was decided by the Executive Board that the subject's psychological instability makes her a liability in the face of such power. Intel reveals that the founders were considering extermination, for fear that she would become a threat to the Company. All current and future planned studies with the subject have been put on hold until further notified.
She came barging into the cell, soaked with sweat, blood, and newly formed bruises flowering upon her lily white skin. She's wearing tattered blue clothing, singed with black ash. I raise an eyebrow, surprised by her unusual appearance.
"Hey, you." She tries to smile, but her lips are too damaged.
"What happened?"
"Just a little curve ball in my day, nothing out of the ordinary." She leans against the door, arms crossed.
"What do you want, Elle?" I ask, but I already know the answer.
"You know what I want." She easily reads me.
I raise an eyebrow and taunt, "Daddy not giving you a booster shot?"
"We can do this the easy way, or the hard way. And you know which one I prefer." Her voice is neutral, bored, as if she were talking about the weather.
"You've always had such a naughty obsession with pain."
She pushes her body off the wall and begins to walk with confident, liquid grace around the cell. Even with such a broken body, she moves smoothly like a dancer...or a large predatory cat. "Which makes our relationship so perfect, don't you think?"
"I wouldn't call it a relationship."
"Potato, Patato." She shrugs indifferently.
The closer she comes, the more I take in her appearance. Her normally bouncy, shiny blond hair is dirty, crusted with dried blood. Dark circles under her eyes are a startling contrast to her pale white shin. Newly formed bruises spread interesting shades of blue, purple, and yellow across her left check and jaw. Her tattered clothing appears to be the remains of blue hospital gown.
"What have you gotten yourself into, love?" I ask, surprised at my concern of the sociopath.
"You mean... what have I gotten myself out of?" She answers cryptically.
Her eyes suddenly sparkle and she's all smiles, her face lights up as if someone turned on a switch. The sudden change is startling. She begins to sing, "When you think things are bad, when you feel sour and blue, when you start to get mad. You should do what I do…."
"Elle..." I cautiously hold out my hands in surrender.
The familiar sharp pain fills my body. The room turns bright blue from her electrical outburst. I can hear her laughter faintly over the sound of electricity and my screams.
The petite special is suddenly on top of me, straddling her legs around my waist. She stares down at me, eyes wide and shining. Her lips find mine and -God help me- I kiss her back. She bites down hard on my bottom lip. The taste of metallic blood fills my mouth. Elle jerks her head back and laughs, teeth stained with red as her skin slowly knits back to its smooth perfection.
A team of agents burst into the room and yank the insane special off of me. She doesn't attempt to fight back, her body is limp and dead weight as they drag her towards the door. She has a lazy grin on her face, like a well fed cat.
I stay frozen on the floor.
"Thanks for the little pick me up, Adam. You and me, we'll play again real soon. I'll return the favor."
Her laughter echoes throughout the hallway, sending chills down my back.
"I understand that Scissors can beat Paper.
And I get how Rock can beat Scissors.
But there's no fucking way Paper can beat Rock.
Paper is supposed to magically wrap around Rock leaving it immobile?
Why the hell can't paper do this to scissors?
Screw scissors, why can't paper do this to people?
Why isn't notebook paper constantly suffocating students while they take notes in class?
I'll tell you why: because paper can't beat anybody; a rock would tear that shit up in 2 seconds.
When I play rock/paper/scissors, I always choose rock.
Then when somebody claims to beat me with their paper, I can punch them in the face with my already clenched fist and say, 'Oh shit, I'm sorry. I thought paper would protect you. Idiot!'
Wait….what was the original question, doc?"
Bad specials, beware. The Company sends me out to do the dirty work. Daddy's ruthless, lethal agent. The best of the best.
And then one day he showed up. The big bad serial killer. Claiming to be the most special of us all.
Who am I? They call me the Executioner. Silly, that's your cue for being scared.
I love to dance, dilly, dilly, I love to sing;
When I am queen, dilly, dilly, You'll be my king.
Who told me so, dilly, dilly, Who told me so?
I told myself, dilly, dilly, I told me so.
