[DVFP] Mother, Mother (G 2.2)

The cool feeling of a floor is your first sensation. Your eyes slowly open to a piercing bright, light. Once your eyes adjust, your realize your mask is gone. You're lying on the floor of a room that feels familiar, but you can't place it. The soft beep of some machine, the hum of the lights, a man talking to a woman who is breathing heavily in short controlled gasps. These sounds thrum in your head, but when you look around, nobody is here.

This is the room:

Everything in here is painfully clean, Gigg. There's a metal-framed bed here with crisp white and blue sheets. The window to the outside is fake, you know this somehow. That outside is too green, too idyllic. The smell s the weird hint of antiseptic and bleach. Nothing has a single scuff. No marks. No stains.

Your whole body aches, wounds are still fresh, and you feel sticky blood on the spot where you've been lying. Along with those odd sounds of the man talking, the woman breathing, the beeping machine, your head is pounding. You're all alone.

Have you ever been this close to death, Gigg?

What do you do?


  • I'm very stiff, and everything hurts and screams when I first roll over. Once I get my wounded knees under me, I'm able to struggle to standing position, steadying myself by holding onto some furniture. My mask? I need to find it. I'm not the same without it. I need Pops to help me make sense of where I'm at, and I need it to make sense of what he's saying.

    Did Motley double-cross me? Did he tell Last about what I did to Lala, and now they've sold me off to some cowboy to settle the score?

    I have rememberin' flashes of one other time I was hurting this bad. It was the day those cowboys from The Fat Man rode into the junkyard chasing Will Isaac. I fought them all off, killed everyone of them, but I was in bad shape afterwards. Somehow I managed to get Will Isaac planted, and then I just collapsed in my hole under the bus. If it hadn't been for Chaz showing up, I probably wouldn't have made it. He took care of the cowboys and their scrounge, and got me to some sawbones he knew out in the wasteland. He probably saved my life.

    No time to dwell on the planted. I'm looking around for my gear, for my mask... for a door...

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    You spot a door, but it leads into a tiled room with a toilet and a shower head. All sparkly clean, shiny. When you limp back into the room, you see Lala on the bed. The bullet wounds in her forehead and cheek are still there, slowly oozing and dripping blood. When the blood hits the bedsheets, they seem to disappear.
    "Gigg," she says as she props herself up on a dusty elbow. "You wanted momma. She's gone. But I'm here." She looks you up and down, "You look fugged. Anyone sees you," she glances out the window to the fake outside, "They're going to take you down. Take your stuff... unless you get right."
    She fixes you with a look, "You want my help?"
  • "What'd you do with my mask? What'd you do with Pops?" I say trying to put her off while cutting my eyes around the room looking for possible place my mask and gear might be.

    I start undressing, unable to resist the shower discovered in the other room. I probably haven't showered in close to a year. She's right. I am fugged. They will take me down. I can already feel them watching me, listening to me."What are you talkin' about? Get right? What do you mean?"
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    "I mean," Lala says calmly as she rolls off the bed and walks up behind you as you strip. "Healed. Cleaned. Purified." She runs fingers along your meaty back, "Go ahead and get in the shower. If you let me in, I'll make sure you are strong again." She presses the side of her face against your right shoulder blade.
    What do you do?
  • The last of my filthy clothes hits the sterile floor, and suddenly I can't recall ever being this naked. No clothes, no mask, no Pops, no junkyard, none of my gear. My whole body is trembling and I'm not sure why. Am I cold? Am I frightened? I'm tryin to keep this onrush of remembering flashes away, but without Pops to help, it's like one long picture show in my head that I can't stop...

    "It's was me, wasn't it? My body is shaking almost uncontrollably as I fumble with the faucet handles in the shower. "It was me that killed all those gals. Just like some scoundrel-y cowboy. The green-haired girl, the woman in the back of the bus, Will Isaac... Shivering and shaking, I look back at Lala... and you... and there were others too... many, many others.

    And then the remembering flash of all flashes, the one locked away in the deepest place of all... the gal with the sun-bleached hair and the rough tanned and weathered skin... looking much older than she was... tracks covering her arms and thighs and feet... looking past me with those dead black eyes... "Gigg, put down dat wrench and go find Fast Buck Freddy for ya momma. Ya hear me? I said put down dat wrench."

    "NOOOOO!!!!!" I scream out, "Make it stop! Make it stop. Please... make it stop... anything, just make it stop..." I call out to Lala, now sobbing hysterically, collapsing on the tiled shower floor, dirt, blood, and oil circling together down the drain.
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    Lala stands above you, watching your torment, her face impassive. She reaches up to tug on the chain attached to the showerhead and water cascades down onto you, Gigg. Warm and cleansing, and there's so fugging much of it. You have no idea how the drain isn't clogging with all the mire and muck sluicing off your body. You feel her hands, and something in her hand, solid and slippery. She glides it over your shoulders, your back, all over your body.

    She slides down to the tile floor beside you, continuing to use the slippery disc to wash your body, all of you, Gigg, making you clean. Like she said. Her touch is intimate, but she is there for you, Gigg. The water never stops, it is endless. After Lala pushes you onto your back to continue cleaning you, she climbs on top of you, her body tiny in comparison. The water causes the bloody wounds in her face and neck to dribble pink onto you, but even that disappears.

    Gigg, do you continue to lie there under her, or do you decide to touch her back? She would let you, you know this. You're linked in ways that transcend what others can share. What do you do?
  • Despite Lala's touch, the shame is still too powerful. On my back with Lala on top, under the bright artificial light and without my mask, my hands cover my face, I sob through half-closed fingers, "Don't look at me..."
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    "Why not, Gigg?" Lala asks as she puts her small hands on your wrists, trying to pull them away from your face. "Will you kill me if I see? Too late. Just let me in." You feel her leaning down, feel lips pressed against your knuckles.
    "Mama will take care of it now."
    What do you do?
  • All resistance falls away when I hear Lala say mama. I let her pull my hands away from my face, a horrified and incredulous look on my contorted and misshapen face. I no longer see a grungy hooded biker chick, only a gaunt, weathered and stringy-haired junkie,

    As Lala pulls on my wrists, my whole torso follows them. Sitting up now with Lala straddled across my lap, I embrace her, arms wrapped around her petite body, face pressed against her chest, sobbing. "I'm so sorry, mama. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. He made me do it. I tried to ignore him, but he kept on and on. Kept telling me you that you was a no-good mama. I knew you was just sick, but he made me believe him. I didn't want to do it. I didn't want to... The last words were almost consumed in a bawling and weeping fit, my body shaking and arms holding her tight.
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    You feel her tighten the embrace warmly, lips at your cauliflower ear, "I forgive you, baby. I forgive you. It's all his fault. That bastard made you kill me. I know."
    Soft kisses on your ear, over to your misshapen forehead, "I was a bad mama, Gigg. I'll be a better mama for you now. But you have to avenge me. You have to kill Pops. He killed me twice. It's only fair."
  • Her reassurance is like quikrete in my gut, instantly setting firm and solid. Soon the wracks and waves of emotion pass and its just her and me and the sound of the shower raining down, water pooling between our pressed bodies. I notice my skin, my real skin, for the first time in a long... I can't remember how long... and there's a fleeting thought that I'm pink!

    I lay back on the cold wet tile, hands behind my head now, feeling the water hit my chest and face. It almost never rains in the DVFP. I've mostly seen it only on the moving pictures. And the water that's went down this drain is more than I drink in a month. What is this place that has water to gush. Imagining a life like this is like imagining a life without Pops. It's so foreign. And then there's that biker girl, Lala, thighs squeezing tight against my hips, water running off her head and face, and arms akimbo, face staring down at me expectantly. This can't be real...

    I look up at Lala, "If killing Pops means getting rid of my mask, no deal. It ain't going down that way. It can't. I can't do that. I wouldn't even know how to kill Pops." I flat out have no clue. Never thought about it. "So, what's your plan? How we do this?
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    She moves her hands down to explore your chest, Gigg, a sensual thing, but also truly exploring, learning your body. "You need the mask. I need the mask, too. It's my anchor. It's what keeps us together, Gigg." She bends down to press her lips to your brow, her body sliding against you. "You have to kill him. The living breathing him, Gigg. Pops will die when he dies. Then it's just you and me." She begins moving against you, Gigg, insistent and primal.

    Do we fade to black here?
  • OOC: Yes, fade to black and end of scene if you want. Question, does the "he" imply The Fat Man?
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    Why yes. Yes indeed. "He" is TFM.
  • OOC: Yippee!! I was hoping the big reveal was going to be Gigg is actually one TFM's sons! Yes! This soooooo gooood!
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    End Scene

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