Mentioned: Jason Nigh, Demonica, Seraph, Andrew Ashton
Appearances By: Jason Nigh


Abandoned
Complete With Super Hero References


I sat in silence at the table, a silver gel pen held between my index and middle fingers: much like a cigarette. And damn, did I need one now. But who was I to uphold the law? Since when did I not break rules and regulations just to see how far I could push my barriers? I believe I had demonstrated my point at the criminal case hearing this week. Fuck it.

I had been sitting a large table with Demonica and Seraph until they had fucked off somewhere. Damn them. That left me all alone, sitting in the middle of the table by my lonesome. Granted, I liked being alone: just not when I was to face a group of twenty to fifty-somethings that were obsessed with wrestling and could vault over the table at any time. The thought irked me to no end.

Hey, great, you’re obsessed. What a lovely position to be in for you. I direct you to the nearest phone to call the suicide helpline because if I got one more, just one more phone number slipped casually onto the table beneath my poster. Just one more question on my court case. Just one… and the fans were going to need the helpline number. There would be no more calm let-downs. No polite replies and thanks for my well-being. Oh no. It was no holds barred now. The next number would be swiftly shoved down the next person’s throat before they were put through the table. Oh yes. I was having no more.

I drew out my pack of cigarettes and lighter. One left. Fuck. Thankfully, me being the awesome chain-smoker that I am, I had another pack in my coat, which was draped over the back of the uncomfortable metal chair. You’d think for the menial amount of money they were paying me, they could at least make my stay a bit peachier with a better chair. Hell, that’s probably why Demonica and Seraph left me here alone, to fend for myself. Yes, that’s it.

As the crowd dissipated a bit further, I was able to look across at the other side of the room. And there he sat at his table, listless in a sense and utterly alone. Pity. It was one of those moments here you wanted to go over to him and just pat him on the head. Perhaps a bit condescending, but fun nonetheless.

It wasn’t for another few moments before I realized I was staring. Apparently, I had a tendency to do that. Demonica had told me once while she was testifying that I was just staring at one particular male in the jury. I hadn’t even realized I’d been staring at him. I just drift off into thought without a care in the world.

When I realized what I was doing, I noticed that he was doing he same thing. Well, perhaps not the same thing. From what I gathered, he knew exactly what he was doing when he watched me. I jumped faintly when I fan started screaming his name and jumped within my view. My brow furrowed lightly. Looks like I wasn’t the only one getting marriage proposals. One of these days, for shits and giggles, I’ll just say yes to one of them. And if they take me seriously, then ha-ha on them when they’re standing at the alter in their little church, in their pastel blue tuxedoes. Ewww. Marriage.

The screaming girl disappears and for that, I was grateful. Jason looked up at me, before looking back to the table. Ouch, oh, arrow through my icy, crippled, black heart. He looked up again, smiling faintly. I smirked a bit. Time to the torture the poor bastard. Slowly, my tongue slithered out and runs over my top lip to moisten them only. I drew from my cigarette, holding the filter between my lips as I sign a few of my glossy pictures in my silver pen. He looked back at me again as the fans cleared away, smiling again. Awww.

A rather darkly placid look crossed over my face as I stared at him. No, I wasn’t drifting out of reality this time. It was the same look I’d given Seraph, Caleb, Demonica and Francine. Just the tip of my tongue slithered out to rub over my top lip, but only half-way before I withdrew. I pursed my lips together, tilting my head a bit to the side. I see Nigh’s face grow paler, eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights. I laugh, breaking the tension: at least for me. I take the last drag of my cigarette before butting it out.

Out of the corner of my eye, as I began to sign more autographs, I saw Jason move a bit. Through my peripheral vision, I could see him stand, and arch a bit because of the crazy chairs. I see him begin to cross the floor and I could feel his eyes plastered on my forehead. Then, he was gone from my vision. I looked up, frowning faintly. I stood up a little ways to give a fan a hug, and saw Jason sprawled out on the ground. I sat back down, pursed my lips and waited for the fans to leave before I fell into hysterics.

He rises to his feet and pulls his boot back on. Note to self: buy new laces for the new kid. Apparently, the only people who witnessed the newbie dropping to the floor were myself and his obsessed fan that wanted to him to marry her. She screamed that she still loved him, no doubt embarrassing Jason further. Some people just did not think.

The thoughts of Jason and his, to put it lightly, infatuated fan left my mind as I grabbed my pack of smokes. Just as I opened it, I realized there were none left. I cursed audibly enough before I started searching through my coat for my cigarettes. Jason was on his feet and obviously noting my distress.

“Ciga--” I heard him say as I pulled out another pack of cigarettes. I look up at Jason as I draw out a cigarette.

“Hmm?” I inquired, tilting my head to the side.

“I was about to off you a cigarette, but I see that you already have twenty-five in your hand, so I’ll just go now,” he said. He sounded nervous. I lit my cigarette quietly, pulling the ashtray closer to me.

“Thanks anyway, newbie. I’m a big girl and I can take care of my own filthy habit,” I said, trying to keep down my language due to the little kid in front of me. I glanced back and forth along the people waiting for me. My nose wrinkled slightly. My hand was already hurting as it was.

“Andrew Ashton is on his way to his car in the parking lot! Go get him!” I said. The fans run off in a big mob that makes me wonder faintly if my car will be safe. I looked up to Jason, brow raised, now able to talk calmly and peacefully. “You’re welcome to sit here. The Brooding Boy of Wonder and his trust sidekick S. Lut left me here to stave off the masses,” I said with a bit of a laugh.

“So I can sit next to you?! Right there?! That is so awesome.” He said as he sat down beside me. I heard the chair clatter but thought nothing of it. “So, I heard you got off, Gwen,” I look over at him curiously. His eyes go wide. “Oh shit! I’m sorry… what I meant was the court case… Got off… Free of charges… You know what I mean! This isn’t going well at all!” He said apprehensively. He looked down before speaking again. “But if you want to get off… I would… ah… yeah. Never mind. I’ll just stop there,” he said, probably beginning to blush though I was never really one to notice.

“Why, Mister Nigh, are you implying that I am a whore? I mean, I am known for my sexual appetites and renowned sex drive, but c’mon now, chéri,” I said, slowly drawing from my cigarette. I uncap my silver pen and begin to draw on the table.

“No, I’m not like that. I’m actually quite down to earth and I--” I cut him off before he could continue and embarrass himself further.

“Gee golly gosh, Jay-Man. Jump off the rebel wagon! Don’t give me that bullshit. It’s so cliché. Blah blah blah. I’m sane, look at me, blah blah blah. You got a lot to learn, mon petite. Like learning to take what you want and give nothing back,” I said. I stressed my point by taking his lighter, lighting my cigarette and stuffing said lighter into the pocket of my jeans.

“I know what I want. And I think you know, too. And I’m not talking about the lighter,” I’d barely heard him. My hand sunk into my pocket, flicking the lighter’s flint there.

“Yeah, sure. Go boot Kyle Rayner’s pansy ass and make a name for yourself. What wrestler doesn’t want to do that?” I asked, drawing out the lighter and smacking it into his awaiting palm. “Here ya go, ya big, newbish bastard,” I added, laughing softly.

“Shit, I think we got off on the wrong foot here. I’ve been here five minutes and have already acted like an idiot on three separate occasions. Here, take the lighter, it may help you with your habit,” he said, holding the lighter out for me to take it back. I take it and before he could say anything, I grabbed the waistband of his pants and dropped the lighter down the front to rest between his boxers and pants.

Before I realized what was going on, I was on my back. At first, I thought it was Nigh trying to make an extremely bold move, but upon further inspection, I realized it was Jason’s stalker-woman. She had hurdled over the table and tackled me to the ground. My lit cigarette rolled away somewhere, only to be stomped out by the fans that were quickly crowding around to watch. Her nails dug into my cheek and tore downwards. I could feel my own blood rush to the wound and begin to drip out. The wound felt deep, but my adrenaline blocked out the pain for now.

I didn’t even hear the crowd beginning to chant my name. I kick her off of me. Security would come eventually, but not before I had my fun. I straddled the girl’s torso, grasp her hair in one hand and begin to send fists. I felt her nose break under one of my connections, as well as the tissue of her cheek beginning to swell every time I hit it.

I get to my feet, my breath heavy. A bead of sweat rolls down my cheek, sinking into the wound on my face. It began to sting horribly, forcing me to shut my eye. I put my hand to my face, wiping it downwards before looking at the blood on my palm. The guards all flank the psycho fan, dragging her to her feet and then taking her out, kicking and screaming. I ignored the crowd: they all thought it was a demonstration.

“Shit, I’m so sorry… really. I didn’t know that was going to happen. I’m sorry!” I glared at him. I wasn’t angry with him. I had this thing where if I’m in pain, no matter who you are, what you are and who you think you are, you’re going to get bitched at.

“Shut the fuck up.” I muttered beneath my breath, before going off on a tangent of French swears. One of the guards grasped my elbow, causing me to spin around and nearly clean his clock.

“Do you need to see the medic, Miss Jordan?” He asked me. In French, I continued to utter curses before nodding my head. I looked around for Nigh, the anger oozing away from my face for a moment. The anger would return soon enough as I turned away to walk – no, limp – towards the medic’s office. My hand was still pressed against my face, applying direct pressure so the bleeding would stop sooner, hopefully.

I heard Nigh’s footsteps following behind me. He seemed the type that would blame himself. Didn’t know why really, considering he had no control over the situation. I moved into the office and sat down on the cold metal table, feeling the uncomfortable temperature against my ass through my jeans. The medic moved in front of me, with a mini Maglite, inspecting the wound closely. He turned away, grasping a tub of antiseptic cream. He began to apply the cold but stinging cream. I shouted loudly, curling my hands hard around the edge of the table.

“I really am sorry about that. If this has ruined your respect for me, then I am really sorry. I just want to be friends, Gwen,” he said. I was nearly ready to kick the medic in the balls then take out Nigh.

“Stop saying you’re sorry, Nigh. It ain’t gonna help now,” I started through gritted teeth. “It wasn’t your fault; she was just a nut, that’s all. When you’re here long enough, you’ll learn that there are John Wilkes Boothes for everyone,” I said, wincing a bit. The doctor unpeeled a piece of gauze and tried to apply it to my cheek, but I smacked his hand away. “I’ll be fucking fine, you useless piece of shit,” I growled.

I jumped off the table, every so often touching my cheek. I felt the cream and my blood mixing together, though the cream was acting almost as a tourniquet and keeping the blood within my skin.

“I’m sorry, and I’ll leave it at that.” He added. I glared at him, the annoyance rolling up my back. I walk passed him, swiftly sending a coiled fist into his shoulder, though I pulled my punch. I may be a girl, but I have a mean right hook.

“Quit saying you’re sorry, Nigh.” With that, I grabbed the collar of his shirt and tugged him down to my level. I dragged my tongue up his cheek before biting down at the top of his cheek bone lightly. “See you at Breakout, Nigh.” I said before disappearing down the hallway. I was forced to sign a few more autographs on the way out, trying to be nice. For a few pictures, I moved my hair into my face to hide the jelly-type cream and the wound. I grabbed my coat and slipped it over my shoulders. I headed into the parking lot and just prayed that the people who were hunting Andrew Ashton, who actually wasn’t anywhere near here, hadn’t totalled my car.


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