Chapter V: Princess in danger
New York, Minton's Playhouse, Harlem, 206 W 118th Street, 5 April 2006
"Excuse me just for a moment," the beautiful brunette says, while Kevin is still staring at her dazed.
He follows her with his eyes, while with a self-confident pace she moves towards the counter, towards one of the bartenders.
He is a man of about fifty years, quite robust, but she lifts him as if he weighs twenty grams, flinging him to the other side of the room.
If possible, Kevin is even more fascinated by it.
- That girl has powers ... just like me! -
He is too captivated by her to stop, think and make the most basic of associations.
"Hey, you, little girl, what are you doing to my employee?" the owner of the restaurant intervenes, even if he is a little afraid to approach her… as a matter of fact he just screams cautiously from the counter.
"What? An employee? Does that mean… you work here then? Yet you entered so stealthily." She stares bewildered at the man, who is barely trying to get up.
"Of course I work here ... who the hell are you?" the middle-aged man barks, glaring at her, as he manages with difficulty to get back on his feet.
The girl bursts out laughing, but it's laughter without any joy inside.
"That's just the worst word you could use, but I can say I'm working for the competition," she whispers in his ear, triggering the handsome Kevin's jealousy, who would like her to be so close to him.
"Tell me," she turns back to the owner of the place. "Do you have a tendency to hire people who try to poison customers?" She puts him on the spot.
"But what…." the owner frowns.
"The glass I dropped, make someone analyze it and you will see that I am telling the truth," the girl instructs him.
"Bob, is she right?" his superior questions him gruffly.
"I ..." the man mumbles, before grabbing a knife from one of the tables with his remaining energy.
"Dammit, this is all your fault! You're doubly the bane of my life!" he growls, rushing with great effort, with the knife stretched forward, against Kevin, who would also be more than ready to immobilize him with the sheer force of his words if someone hadn't already thought about it with her own physical strength.
In fact, the girl is lifting him in mid-air holding him by the neck with one hand.
"So you really don't want to learn the lesson, huh?" she snorts. "Sleep on it!" she adds, before slamming him against the wall just enough to knock him out.
Kevin smiles at her, ecstatic, a smile that she finds herself returning too, deciding that she deserves a closer encounter with the guy she has just saved.
- Besides, I wouldn't mind getting to know this charming dude a little better.-
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London, Soho, Greek Street, 5 April 2006
"Please, handle them with care. they are very ancient volumes, not as old as us, but almost!" Aziraphale giggles as he descends the ladder just enough to pass to Crowley the pile of books he has piled up from the top shelf effortlessly.
Too bad he tends to forget too often that Crowley is not gifted with his same strength, indeed, he is much more likely to wear out than many humans.
This is why, once those volumes are collected in his arms, the demon falls, tumbling to the ground, but well aware of how much the angel cares for his books, he protects them by falling on his back.
"Oh dear!" the blond is alarmed, immediately descending the ladder to go to his rescue. "Forgive me, maybe I had to pass them to you one at a time?" he apologises, taking the books from Crowley's arms with ease and placing them on a table.
"One? Why not half a book at a time? How hell much do they weigh? " the redhead grumbles, getting up.
"Half? I could never do that to my loved ones! " Aziraphale proclaims.
"But it's okay to break me though as I were a breadstick?" barks the demon.
"The usual melodramatics. You look healthier than me, breadstick!" Aziraphale teases him.
Crowley will never tell him, but that little bit of his character, a bit of a bastard, is one of the things he loves most about him.
"And anyway you have been so…. that word you don't like, to help me with the inventory. When I told you on the phone that I was very busy, I didn't think you would come here to give me a hand. "
- Anything to spend some time together, angel.- Crowley mulls, disguising it all with a shrug.
"We can work faster together, can't we? Besides, if I wasn't here, lazy as you are, you would surely have resorted to some miracle to do it, " he teases Aziraphale.
"Touchè!" the blond giggles. "And the demerit note from Gabriel wouldn't take long to arrive," he mutters.
"Someone should make demerit notes to your bigot boss for all the ones he makes!" Crowley snorts.
"I'd say we've earned a more than deserved break after this shelf, dear. Would you keep me company for tea with sweets? " Aziraphale offers, affable.
- And then stop for dinner, sleep here, stop tomorrow for lunch, then dinner ... and so on until the end of the world? Can't it be like this? - the beautiful angel mulls.
Crowley is about to accept that invitation willingly - well, the open part, at least, the other is a secret that Aziraphale will probably take to his grave ... if angels have one! - when something makes him change his mind.
"Damn! My protégé ... I feel very bad vibrations ... "
"Now it's you who is acting like a hen demon! " Aziraphale mocks him. "Look at me. I go to my protégé just and only if strictly necessary, and..."
"Trust me, it is strictly necessary this time and if I say that these vibrations are bad, well, be sure that it means they are extremely bad!" Crowley grumbles. "I have to go!" he disappears with a snap of his fingers, leaving Aziraphale staring into an empty space as he bites into a butter cookie disconsolately.
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New York, Minton's Playhouse, Harlem, 206 W 118th Street, 5 April 2006
"Please, Sir, allow me to offer my sincere apologies. Bob has always given impeccable service for at least twenty years. I don't know what's wrong with him, but I've already called the police, " the owner of the bar informs the potential victim.
"You did very well. A double assassination attempt is certainly not something that can be ignored! " Jessica says, taking her place at the young man's table, in front of him.
She could almost swear he likes that, at least by the way he's looking at her.
She could sink into those two deep wells of warm dark chocolate.
- What a charming look he has! Okay, no, he's all charming! - she can't help but notice, keeping eye contact with him, in a kind of silent challenge.
"May I know the name of my savior?" he smiles at her gallantly.
- Oh my God, this British accent is so sexy… if he talks to me and still smiles at me like that, I'll end up jumping on him in the back of the club! - the almost twenty year old girl gets lost in her fantasies.
"You can even offer her a drink to thank her!" she cheekily replies, amusing him, before holding out her hand: "I'm Jessica. Jessica Jones. "
"Kil ... Kevin Thompson, very pleased." He seems to have some uncertainty, before making the presentation more official, while shaking her hand.
- So beautiful and also so proactive. Ooh, I already like you so much, Jessica. Jessica Jones. - Kevin repeats that name in his mind, as if it were music.
They both feel a strange yet pleasant jolt, a kind of electricity between them, and they look at each other intrigued.
"Of course, this round of drinks is offered by the house, Sir and Miss," kindly offers the owner, who has remained there. "Hoping to please you, Sir, and have you back with us again."
"If you don't attempt to end my life, yes, I'll gladly come back!" Kevin replies, a little sour, but not too much, given the pleasant company in which he finds himself.
"Bring us both what he ordered ... maybe without poison this time!" Jessica reinforces the message.
"I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to show some identification, Miss, since Sir had ordered a Manhattan." the owner turns to her.
"So what? I'm old enough to drink Manhattan, even three if I want! " she shrugs.
Kevin watches her more and more amused.
"No problem, then," the owner smiles at her. "Show me," he insists, making her snort.
"I'm almost twenty-one…. well, next month, next year, I'll reach the damned suitable age, " she confesses. "A stupid year and forty-five damn days can't really be a fucking problem!" she blurts out, raising her eyes and already resigning herself to order a soft drink.
"It's no problem, indeed. She can drink Manhattan. Now bring us our drinks!" Killgrave intervenes.
"Of course, Sir," the man smiles, walking away.
"I don't believe it. You convinced him!" Jessica stares at Kevin in awe.
"I can assure you it's one of the things I do best," he chuckles. "Meanwhile I, from my well over twenty-nine years, have no problem drinking."
"I wouldn't have either, except when I find big-headed and fussy bartenders like this!" she replies. "Although Zi … zippy. My zippy uncle doesn't want me to drink too much, " she corrects herself instantly. "Why don't you tell me what you did to that man to make him hate you so much?" she slyly changes the topic.
"Oh well, I may have convinced his wife to sleep with someone else." Kevin shrugs nonchalantly.
"With you?" she frowns and she can already feel jealousy eating her from inside.
"Noo, I just pushed her, then it's none of my business who she went with."
"It should be none of your business even pushing her," she investigates.
"Instead it is. I'm her psychologist. She is my patient," he reveals to her.
Over the course of those three and a half years he managed to open his studio in London, while also providing counselling at home, wherever he is. Needless to say how many victims this provides for his and Crowley's plans.
"I'm a detective, and I'll tell you what, for the past few weeks there has been a spike of marriages and relationships falling apart ... I'll have to do some more research to find out if they are all connected to you, Dr. Thompson!" she looks at him suspiciously.
"Do your best then, Detective Jones!" he challenges her, knowing that he has covered all the traces very well with his other patients, yet feeling that she can be a tough nut to crack.
- Beautiful, but a little too nosy! - Kevin ponders.
- Beautiful, but a little too arrogant!- Jessica ponders.
They both keep smiling at each other as if nothing had happened, even more so when their drinks arrive.
"What about your employee?" the man asks Kevin.
"Oh, don't worry, we took him to the back room, letting him regain consciousness. The police will be here shortly, " the other informs him.
"I want to give him a nice little talking-to before the police arrive. Take me to him. And leave us alone. " Killgrave commands, and his interlocutor has no choice but to obey him.
"It won't take long, my darling." He winks at Jessica, who watches him go a bit dazed, but then she has a cocktail to distract herself with.
Once they reach the back of the shop, the owner leaves them alone and undisturbed.
The waiter,huddled in a corner, has recently come to consciousness and is alarmed when he finds Kevin there.
It is a narrow space with exposed bricks, narrow corridors of medium length, with the walls impregnated with a strong smell of wine.
"What are you doing here? Bastard, haven't you ruined my life enough already? " he growls.
"You tried to poison me. And then to stab me. What do you think I should do to you? I find it fair to pay you back with the same coin. The difference is that mine will not be just an attempt. " Killgrave grins ominously, with a light in his dark eyes that can't bring anything good.
"I don't ..." the man mumbles, panic stricken.
"I bet you still have some of the poison you used in your pocket, tell me if I'm right."
"Yes, Sir," the other finds himself admitting without hesitation, much to his surprise.
The devilish grin of the handsome Englishman's feature widens further.
"But I also see knives in this room. It looks like they left us alone in such a nice playground. " Killgrave chuckles, pacing in the back room and picking up one of the knives from the wooden block, one sharp enough.
"Tell me what you wanted to do with that knife and why," he questions the man, approaching him with large steps.
"I wanted to point it at your throat and then cut your throat, like the pig you are, for putting certain ideas in my wife's head!" his victim confesses without filters, with all the hatred that hatches inside.
In response, Killgrave bursts out laughing.
"No doubt about it, you really took it badly," he comments amused, but then he becomes serious again. "Tell me if you've ever cheated on your wife." he asks coldly.
"Yes, three times," the man confesses.
"Then the pig would be me!" Kevin chuckles. "I could have you slicing your own throat and smile at me while you do it ... or I could make you cut your veins and bleed until the police arrive ... a gesture as desperate as understandable, of someone who doesn't want to end up in jail." Killgrave evaluates all the possibilities, terrifying his victim, even more so as he watches him run a finger across the blade showing off a maniacal look. "I've never asked anyone to kill themselves, you know? But there's always a first time… and let's not forget that there's still what's left of the poison, perhaps the quickest solution… uhmm, poison or knife? Maybe I should let fate decide," he says, taking a penny out of his pocket. "Head, you stab yourself, cross, you poison yourself!" he winks slyly, tossing the coin in the air.
(End I)
Notes:So, do you feel any 'good' old Killgrave's vibes? ;) I hope he's creepy enough.
I know evil point to stop at, but I am evil, mwhahaha XD
Please, prove you're good readers, instead and tell me what you think, pretty please? ^^'
More to come ;)