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(no subject)

Who: Bethan Costigan

nogodsnoheroes and OPEN (one prompt closed to Angela

hevenly)
What: Bethan returns to Central City, gets in a fight, and goes to find a friend
When: Throughout December
Where: Central City
Content Warnings: Alcohol, violence, unreality/dissociation

[ I | Central City, early December | OPEN | CW: excessive alcohol consumption ]

[This is a rough time of year for someone whose only solace, back home, is family. Thanksgiving was hard. Christmas coming up is even harder. It's haunting her, that loneliness - making her wonder if it's worth risking a little trust in the Guilds, if it means she can get home long enough to tell her parents she's okay.]

[She's not really okay. Even by her own very loose standards, Bethan isn't doing well. She's been on her motorcycle for the past two months, riding aimlessly wherever the road takes her, trying to find...]

[Something. She doesn't know what. Whatever it is, she hasn't found it, and now she's back where she started, on a low rooftop in downtown Central City, trying to outrace her superhuman metabolism before she runs out of stolen cash.]

[Which is to say, she's on her third bottle of cheap vodka, swaying very slightly where she sits, humming Christmas carols. She looks like she's been crying.]

[If you so much as glance at her, she'll fix the full force of her glare on you, chugging down the rest of the bottle.]

Fuck you looking at?

[ II | Central City, throughout December | OPEN | CW: violence ]
[Alcohol costs money, and it doesn't last long. Justice... Justice doesn't cost a goddamn thing.]

[Which is the nicest way of saying that, as soon as she runs out of vodka (and subsequently sobers up about an hour later), Bethan is looking for a fight.]

[Or, rather, the Bandit is.]

[She's no respecter of boundaries, especially not those set by the Alliance, so if you happen to be patrolling the city, you may find that there's an intruder on your turf, running around on the rooftops. Her face is hidden by a motorcycle helmet with a mirrored visor, her motorcycle leathers padded and zipped up to the neck.]

[It isn't always easy to find crime to stop, especially when there are this many superheroes about, but a determined vigilante can usually find someone who's (at least apparently) up to no good.]

[Hence the screams echoing down the street, as the black-clad Bandit interrupts a mugging in progress with a swift kick to the mugger's knee, and proceeds to start beating the shit out of him. It's a pretty unpleasant sight, all things considered: blood on the snow, a leg bent at an unnatural angle, and a merciless assault on a mugger who, criminal or not, is absolutely the one crying out for help at this point.]

[Someone might want to step in, before this upgrades from assault to manslaughter.]

[ III | The Opherium | mid-December | CLOSED to Angela ]
[She's been putting it off. She knows that. She's been putting it off for months, since she met Sephiroth and had that conversation with him, and she's definitely been putting it off for the week or two she's been back in the city.]

[But shit keeps pointing her back here. The mention of the Lokis. The card in her pocket, which she somehow hasn't been able to throw away. Her own curiosity. Mostly that last one.]

[She's terrified. She's actually a bit afraid she might throw up, or have a panic attack, or both, standing in front of the address on the card.]

[The woman she's looking for knew her. Maybe not this version of her, but a version of her. Knew her name, knew her face... what else did she know? What had she already told people?]

[Had they really been friends, in some reality?]

[Bethan can't deal with all this thought of different realities, different hers. It hurts too much, and it's too confusing, and it's hard enough to keep hold of the reality she's living in. But she has to know. She might have put it off for months, but it's been gnawing at her. She just... has to know.]

[She raises her hand, takes a deep breath that hangs in the air like frozen mist, and knocks.]

[ IV | Wildcard ]
[[Hit me up for toplevels/plotting at

jormandugr if you'd like!]]

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[It's funny. Jason's used to being the violent vigilante. So when he's doing his rounds around his territory, he's surprised to see someone's beaten him to the punch in stopping a mugger. She's landing some pretty good punches too.

Casually leaning against a lamppost, he whistles at her]

Seven out of ten for the beatdown but you lose points in the messiness.

[His casual tone shows he's not too disturbed by what Bethan's doing]

[Shaking blood off her knuckles, holding the whimpering man up by the collar, the Bandit turns to... well, it's hard to tell, with the helmet in the way, but glare still feels like the right word. For a moment, she doesn't say anything, catching her breath.]

I don't remember signing up to a fucking showcase.

[She's given up on disguising her voice, the way she used to back home. No stakes to people knowing who she is, here. Nobody to protect. So it's entirely her own voice - surprisingly light, a little hoarse, strong New York accent - coming out of that tinted helmet.]

What's wrong with messy, anyway?

[Jason's mentally taking note of her accent. A New Yorker, huh?]

Messiness might leave too much evidence behind. Plus, clean up is a bitch, especially when blood's involved.

[Jason's own accent sounds like he's from the Northeast, possibly Jersey]

Sounds like a problem for the paramedics.

[She looks down at the bloody, groaning man she's holding, and, after a moment, lets him drop. She's not getting more of a fight out of him, and the interruption is starting to kill the adrenaline, make room for her uncle's voice. Don't hit a man when he's down.]

Speaking of, you got a phone? Mine's fucked.

Yeah, I got a burner.

[Jason takes it out and offers it]

Feeling nice now?

Edited 2022-12-19 23:41 (UTC)

[She has to flip up her visor to see the phone properly in this light, so it's a surprisingly fresh-faced blonde woman in her twenties who's doing the glaring now, as she snatches the phone.]

You don't like mess, but you're cool leaving people lying around to die and stink up the place? Weird boundaries.

[9-1... Her finger hovers over the 1 for a moment, considering. She doesn't want to get stuck here talking to some weird asshole when the cops arrive.]

I didn't do anything that'd kill him. [She bashed his head into a wall several times. She's very good at deluding herself about what can and can't kill people.] And it's fucking freezing. He's not going to learn anything if he's frozen solid.

Yeah, I know.

[His tone remains casual and unbothered by the scene]

Just hurry up and call. It's freezing for all of us here.

Maybe you ought to dress better for it.

[She wrinkles her nose, and presses the 1 again. From the call she makes - which contains exactly the necessary information and no more, and is given in a voice with noticeably less accent, no hesitation or chance to let the operator speak - it's not the first time she's made this exact call.]

[She hangs up, holding the phone back out to him.]

Nobody said you had to wait around, you know. Or be here in the first place.

[Jason takes his phone back]

Technically yeah but kinda hard not to notice someone getting beaten up in my territory.

[Jason keeps his gloved hands visible and open as a sign he's not threatening her]

Edited 2022-12-20 01:13 (UTC)

"Territory"? What, you're a fucking wolf now? You piss on all the lampposts too?

[She scoffs, jamming her own bloodied hands into the pockets of her jacket, and turns away.]

Well, if it's your territory, guess you'll want to stay and take credit. Me? I'm out.

[Jason shrugs]

Don't care about the credit. Just was wondering who was around. Usually I'm the one beating the shit out of muggers and some of other's Central's finest scumbags.

[She turns back, considering him, although she doesn't actually stop walking.]

[After a moment:] ...Don't worry about it. I'm just passing through.

I'm sure there's plenty left for you. Doesn't exactly seem like all the superhero bullshit actually cut the crime rate, does it?

Not the usual way, no.

[It's a bitter truth he's had to swallow a long time ago and one of the reasons why he's chosen to try and control crime instead of just trying to fully stop it]

Gotta get your hands dirty instead and think outside of the caped box.

[Now she does stop, turning fully to look him up and down more carefully. Her expression, shadowed in the helmet, is stony and suspicious, but not entirely hostile.]

Not Alliance, then?

[Jason barks out of a laugh]

Fuck no. Too goodie two-shoes for my tastes.

[He's unashamed in that declaration and it's the truth. The Alliance remind him too much of the heroes back home. They seem too hung up on their sanctimonious moral code and PR to see the bigger picture in how to really help people]

Obviously you're not a fan either.

Of the government jackboot brigade? No, I'm fucking not. Far as I'm concerned, they're the worst criminals out here.

Hell, I'm still not convinced they didn't drag us all out here in the first place.

[Grimly]

Yeah, it's entirely possible. At least the Society's barely hiding what they are.

[Sephiroth is in Central City to do some... Christmas shopping, which is a weird concept to him, but here we are.

Between the humming and the smell and the fact that he's tall enough that the rooftop isn't that far overhead, of course he glances at her.]

...you smell even worse than before.

[Apparently he's dropping the manners now that he's off the clock.]

[She snorts, her expression one of distaste.]

Don't act like they're separate groups. That's what they want.

But you're right, I guess. At least they don't think they're the good guys.

...Do they give you trouble? With this... territory?

[She continues to glare, but it might have intensified a little.]

Where the fuck did I ask?

[She tips the bottle again, and, realising it's empty, moves from glaring at him to glaring at the bottle.]

...I've been on the road. Not a lot of shower opportunities.

[And even fewer that she actually took.]

[He is not remotely intimidated by the glaring.]

I take it you declined to stay at the Diadem.

They track us closely enough already, I'm not gonna go stay in the goldfish bowl.

[She screws up her face, waggling the vodka bottle idly.]

Anyway, I'm having a bit of a cashflow problem.

I'm not certain that's how I would define your problem.

[She squints at him, then abruptly leans forward - so abruptly it's a surprise she doesn't fall off the roof - with her arms draped over her knees.]

Okay, smartass. What's my problem?

[She's genuinely curious to know the answer. She could name a lot of her problems, but - especially with her usual guard dulled by the alcohol - it's kind of interesting to know what someone else sees.]

[Sephiroth shrugs.]

I doubt it's a lack of money that's driven you to drink, or to take such poor care of yourself.

Something personal, I imagine.

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