Character Bar (Explicit, 18+)

Ortlinde: *setting down drinks* So, one Grey Goose - and I'm guessing Romulan Ale for the blue one.

Rossweisse: Wow, Military SF? This ought to get good.

Claramilla: What the fuck?

 

Alec: I'm so sorry to hear that. You must be so lonely.

 

Agenethe: Oh, so we never told Jason about what happened to Mr. Fluffypants. Wouldn't want to damage his fragile psyche - oh wait - you killed him didn't you? Never mind.

 

Agnethe: Better lonely than wondering if my girlfriend is daydreaming about having my liver with some fava beans and a nice Chianti. Although, with Amy here, I'm thinking she's probably just going to shotgun a Bud Light after she's done with you.

 

Charlie: Oh, fuck.

Amy: ... Do you not like being one of the bad guys? Do you look at the differences between yourself and normal people and think "I don't deserve to ruin their world by living in it with them"?

Is that why you're trying to kill yourself?

 

Agnethe: *slowly unholstering gun* Oh, if anyone dies here, it's not going to be me.

Claramilla: Agnethe....

Agnethe: Oh no, I have way too much left to do before the world and me are even. There are far too many wolves like you, and I am going to lock as many of you up as I humanly can.

 

Zlada Volkov: No, I need to teach my friend how to drink like a real woman.
Thank you though. Also I hope you don't mind that my friend happens to be
more of an exotic variety, being genetically engineered, and having an extra pair
of legs. (Whispers) She is currently involved.

Corlixia: My apologies for my CO. She is going through a lot of mental stress,
having lost her mate to a sniper. My potential mate, has been captured. And
for some small reason, alcohol is the answer. But I must ask, do you have a
music making machine?

 

*Ortlinde kicks old jukebox, which springs to life and picks up halfway through "Free Bird" by Lynyrd Skynyrd*

 

Corlixia: Thank you so much.

 

Alec: Wow. You're such a loser you can't even wrap your head around the concept of "Even Evil Has Loved Ones," let alone recognize it when it's foaming at the mouth an inch from your face?

Amy: Oh, and by the way, the line was "and a big Amarone." In the book, Hannibal was showing off how high-class he was by name-dropping one of the most expensive wines in the world, only the filmmakers changed it into something more pedestrian so that the audiences would understand it.

Charlie: Kind of missed the point, don't you think?

Amy: At least they picked a red wine, they'd have missed the point even worse if they'd screwed up the bit about the whole line being a medical joke.

Alec: Wait, medical joke?

Amy: Yeah, patients prescribed monoamine oxidase inhibitors for their mental problems are forbidden from having beans, liver, or red wine because the chemical interactions with the drugs could be deadly.

Charlie: ... Oh, damn.

Alec: So the serial-killing psychiatrist –

Amy: Was making a joke about being off his meds.

Charlie: ...

Alec: Screw it, I got nothing.

Charlie: Wait, is that why I've never seen you drink wine?

Amy: As hilarious as that would be, no, the Paxil I take is a selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor, and those are generally tried before MAOIs specifically because you don't have as many dietary restrictions. I could've had to try an MAOI if all of the SSRIs my doctor and I had tried first didn't work for me, but I've had fantastic luck with the Paxil. Though I have met other trauma survivors who do need MAOIs instead, and a couple of them do love making Silence of the Lambs jokes at every opportunity. They're just not actual serial killers the way I am. Speaking of which...

Amy: You don't actually think that's how it works, do you? That if an evil person like you or me does enough "good" things and stops enough other bad guys from doing bad things, that we somehow won't count as the bad guys anymore? That the things we've done won't count as bad things anymore? That the people we've destroyed will be able to look us in the eye in the afterlife and welcome us into Heaven because we "made up for" what we did to them?

News flash, bitch: Ted Bundy volunteered at a suicide hotline. Ted. Bundy. Saved. Lives. You think anybody gives a shit? You think the jury found him guilty of "35 lives destroyed minus however many lives he saved"? You think if he gave records of saving 35 lives, they would've let him go because "he and the world were even"? You think if he saved at least 36 lives, the courts would've asked for Ted Bundy to be remembered as a hero because he saved more lives than he destroyed?

Wouldn't work. If you'd done anything other than murder, and if you'd wanted to "even out" with the world because you didn't want to be The Bad Guy who did bad things, there'd be something you could do. If you'd stolen something, you could apologize and try to either pay the person back or get the property back. If you'd hurt somebody, then you could pay their medical bills. If you got urges to keep hurting people, and you don't like the urges, you can get therapy (I haven't tried to "fix" that part of me, but if I wanted to, then I could. People with my homicidal tendencies but who don't want to act on them have had plenty of successes). Even if you'd raped somebody, you could make it clear that you're trying to be a better person than you used to be, you make it clear that your life belongs to your victim, and you spend the rest of your natural lives making your victim feel better in whatever way they need.

I say this as somebody who was raped to within an inch of my life when I was 15: if my attacker ever tried to fix the damage that he's done to me, I would thank him and I would try to let him help me – on my terms, not his. I've met rape survivors in my group sessions who wouldn't do this, but I've met other survivors who would. People make rape out to be more evil than murder, but if you raped somebody and then felt remorse, there'd be things you could do to mitigate the damage. If you accidentally kill someone, you can't fix the damage, but it wasn't your fault.

Murder? You're fucked. If you're a murderer, and if you enjoy it as much as I do, then good for you, but if you want to "make up for it," then you should just go ahead and kill yourself. It's not like anybody else is going to care. I'm a serial killer, and I have two best friends that I can count on no matter what I need help with. You've set your life up that you don't even have that much human connection worth living for, so why not just get it over with, stop wasting everybody's time, and just take that gun out, shove it up your ass, and pull the fucking trigger?

 

Agnethe: Wow, you think you've got it all figured out, don't you? First off, I've never killed anyone, bitch. I've wanted to be a cop since I was nine, and I don't owe the world shit - I'm collecting a debt, not paying one.

And that story of yours? Yeah, it's horrifying, but I meet a LOT of girls who've been through worse. My JOB is human trafficking and child porn - I figured out a long time ago that I can spend hours sorting through photos that make other people gag - and then I go home and cry because I'm not TOTALLY without empathy. You know how many of those girls became serial killers? None. Hate to break it to you, but that's all you, honey.

Trust me,what we have in the genes. It's always been there, you just decided that you had an excuse to let it out because the world fucked you over - you privileged little brat. I guess some of us just know going in that they world is shit. I was supposed to be the one good thing that came out of what my mom went through - but then she found out what happened to Fluffypants and that she now had a miniature version of the monster that trafficked her into Denmark. How's that for a sob story, bitch. So yeah, I never killed anybody, and I figured out that being half monster makes me pretty good at the monster-hunting business. That's how you handle what we have, not killing people.

Oh and for what it's worth, I almost never have fantasies about killing women, but right about now you're looking tasty.

 

Amy: Wait, you think the world owes you for how you turned out?

...

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Amy: OK, did I just explain myself as pathetically as you did, or were you just too retarded to understand that that's exactly what I just said? I'm Chaotic Evil, and I've been through hell in my life. That's two thoughts, try to keep track.

There are millions of people in America – Lady Gaga, Oprah Winfrey – who've been through what I've been through without turning out the way I did, and there are hundreds if not thousands of in people – Ted Bundy, Jeffrey Dahmer – who've turned out the way I have without going through what I have, and I've got a hell of a lot more in common with the likes of Ted Bundy than I got with the likes of Lady Gaga.

Kind of like how you got more in common with serial killers born to good parents than you got with good children created by serial killers.

... Oh, did you not know that? Did you think that if you have urges to hurt people, then you have to act on them? Sorry sweetie, but a good person with our urges would go to therapy to stop himself from hurting people. If you're the kind of person who acts on your violent urges to hurt people, then you'd have hurt people even without the urge to do it violently. Maybe you'd be a con artist who swindles old ladies on their deathbed out of their life savings because "they don't need it anymore," paying no heed.

"Hate to break it to you, but that's all you, honey." If you're a bad person, then the violent urges you inherited didn't do that.

Bitch, please. If either one of us were capable of killing each other, you'd have been dead long ago.

 

Agnethe: Wanna bet?!

*lunges at Amy and grabs her by the throat*

Claramilla: Agnethe, stop it!

*Ortlinde and Rossweisse both catch fire, just in case*

Agnethe: I said I never killed anybody, not that I never hurt anybody. Although you get the honor of being the first non-pimp.

*squeezes tighter*

Oh, by the way, the world doesn't owe ME shit. I'm getting even for what it did to my mom.

 

Zlada Volkov: Cor I think I have found that bit of trouble. (Sneering)

Corlixia: That is none of our concern. So what are you going to do about it?

Zlada Volkov: (downs fourth shot) I am going to save that mouthy bitch
from an untimely demise. (Takes off fatigue blouse and cracks knuckles)
So watch closely my little girl, I am going to teach what a real bad bitch can do.

Corlixia: Alright...I will be here.

Taps Agnethe on the sholder.
Zlada Volkov: Excuse me? While I can understand your need to use that little shit as a stress ball,
I cannot however allow you to kill her. So lets break this little pissing contest up, shall we? Show my
friend how to cut a rug. I would like to take miss mouth here outside for a little chat.

(Glares at Amy)
Zlada Volkov: Come with me miss priss. (Grabs Amy by the arm roughly) You need an attitude adjustment.
Talk a big deal about how you're some bad ass killer. Well frankly honey, I have made people worse than
you piss their fucking pants. So lets go outside and have a little heart to heart.

 

[Charlie, Alec, and Amy all flick the release mechanisms on the spring-loaded, quick-draw gun rigs under their sleeves.]

Charlie: Down bitch! HEEL!!!!

 

Amy: Yeah, let's take a little breather shall we? Ninety-one, fifty-five, seventy, eighty. Seventeen, seventeen, fifty-five, ninety. Eighty-one, fifty-three, ninety-five, thirty. Seventeen, thirty-one, twenty-nine, thirteen.

 

Zlada Volkov: Alright mouthy (Lets go of Amy). I'll let it go for now.
But if you are looking for a good old fashioned ass whooping, think of me.

 

Timidly walks over
Corlixia: Hello fellow soldiers (extends slender blue hand). Perhaps you
would like to share a few tips on sexual congress, engaging in it and so
forth. I should like to learn a bit, as I have never had the pleasure of
experiencing it. And do not want to come off as a total ignoramus.
If not, I will gladly leave you to your evening.

 

[Charlie and her crew slide their guns back into their sleeves.]

Amy: It's OK, I'm done. I'm sorry I picked a fight, and I'm not going to do it again.

Charlie: Oh, crap.

Amy: Hey, Agnethe, you ever want to rip your mommy's throat out in an argument and shove it down the garbage disposal? If you truly loved her, you'd believe me when I told you I loved my friends and brother, but you seem convinced that I secretly wand to murder them, so I have to believe that's because you secretly want to murder your mother.

Alec: Here we go.

 

Zlada Volkov: Ok. If you feel the need, I can find a more productive use of your
pie hole.

Corlixia: I am not looking for a demonstration, more a little conceptual conversation.
I understand the mechanics, but want to be more intimate. Your friend sounds interesting,
but a talk will be more than adequate thank you.