I KNOW WHO YOU ARE | SELF PARA
TRIGGER WARNING: mention of bugs, prison, death
roxanne... or should i use your real name to get your attention?
TLDR: roxanne is sent a text message from pantheon and is forced to make a choice, herself or the cavalry? but, considering the anonymity of their attacker, roxanne believes it's far more nuanced than that. after decades of running new york city, maybe it's not them who have the power anymore.
roxanne steele is not one to be afraid of anyone or anything. in fact, she's made a career out of running in the direction that most people fear. and yet, despite the stubbornness that burns through her like an insatiable fire engulfing delicate cedar -- she's just as intelligent as she is thick skinned. the resins and the sap almost akin to everything she's hiding, making it easier to catch fire. thus, when the mysterious message had popped up on her cell phone about two hours prior -- the pantheon had already caught her attention. but she'd never give them the luxury of possessing any proof of such a notion.
thus, having a feeling she was being watched -- her face had remained unchanged as she buried her right hand in the pocket of her jeans -- the other hand offering the only possible tick of nervousness as it caresses the back of her neck.
despite knowing this is what she has to do -- it doesn't make it easier. knowing that she's seconds from betraying the people that had plucked her out of obscurity and stopped her from living simply on ramen noodles and validation from men. the closest thing she'd ever had to a family not just before new york, but in her thirty-two years of living.
it chilled her to her core.
fuck these assholes for giving her too much time to think. maybe they thought she'd never find the balls to go through with it, but it was evident in the way this fucker hid behind a screen that she had more balls than the pantheon could possibly dream of having.
when she enters the armory on a particularly balmy wednesday evening, the air is thicker than honey and so nauseating, it makes her stomach turn. rarely ever can she be seen wearing a shoe without a heel, so much so that the silence as she steps in the familiar armory surprises even her when she enters.
if she does this -- whatever kind of hell the pantheon has in store could put the entire cavalry at risk. people she's come to truly adore, despite having wanted nothing to do with attachments when she'd first breached the threshold of the city that never sleeps. achillas in particular flashes through her mind -- with a dejection she's never seen before. why didn't you tell me, roxy? i always have your back.
perhaps, because she fears what could happen to him if she did. after all, the pantheon were known for smearing blood all over everyone else's hands but their own. pussies, in her opinion. but then again, she wasn't the one with the power right now -- and she hated it.
when she finally enters the armory, roxanne finds herself hesitating again in an uncharacteristic manner that makes her skin itch. like a litany of poisonous bugs eating her alive from the inside out.
her undoing, or tying the cavalry to whatever comes next. what kind of choice is that?
and yet, despite the knowledge -- roxanne's hands wrap around the familiar gun, the very same she'd once joked to miray was a new toy. how quickly that excitement had soon given way to danger.
and then, she lets go.
what would they do if she didn't do this? outside of open the floodgates of everything she'd worked so hard to run from? they could potentially go after one of her own in her place. although she wasn't one for weak spots, but she'd admit to herself that in this life -- she'd found herself a few.
it's then she finally removes the weapon from its sheath, nearly feeling overcome by nausea at the thought of it being in unfamiliar hands. and yet, she knows what she has to do. the sound of prison bars connecting with the frame of a cell echos in her ears as she heads in the direction of the exit, walking as fast as she could before she could change her mind -- with security cameras observed and avoided.
don't make us tell him where you are.
the sentence had rung out through her mind like a throbbing bass drum as she drove to the location requested -- before silently placing down the weapon and walked back in the direction of her vehicle ( placed far enough away from the scene, of course ). keep fucking moving -- hesitating is going to give you enough time to go back, and you won't know what's waiting for you. at least, that's what she tells herself.
she's never had a problem being selfish before. but this feels different.
don't make us tell him where you are.
when she finds out who the fuck this is -- they won't even have the time to even realize they've been caught. because she'll put them even further than six feet under.
