2022-10-31: There is a Girl in Alba City
- Cutscene: There is a Girl in Alba City
- Cast: Faye Valentine
- Where: Alba City, Mars
- Date: UC0096, Oct 31
- Summary: Faye Valentine finds, loses, and is lost.
Ghosts & Empty
Did you know? Here, on Mars, the cities are haunted. After all, there are more ghosts on Mars than the living. And the people still living here are much like ghosts themselves. After all, if you could go anywhere else, why wouldn't you?
Those who remain, aside from the hollow-eyed soldiers of the Earth still left here to fend off the Lizards, are the leftovers of space. Those who couldn't find a place for themselves, or who do not want to be found. But the woman in the red dress seems very much alive, her lips shiny red, dark eyes staring out of a soft, pale face.
"Hehe... it's really you. How wonderful~"
The man she has her eye on doesn't have a clue. He's never met her, though he might know her name, if he caught a glimpse. Unfortunately for him, there's no passionate tryst in his future - but there is a nice, fat bounty on his head. A head currently bowed over a hot plate of cheap noodles, in some forsaken corner of Alba City, unaware of his hunter.
"Oh, I love this place," the beautiful young woman chirps, and her quarry's head shoots up warily. "The guy who owned it last told me, he picked this spot because it's auspicious. He could only barely afford this little corner, but he managed to become so well known, he was able to sell and buy a ticket out of this dump." There's a soft click, and the heavy weight of a firearm pressed into the man's back. "But you know - what's fortunate for one person, must come with misfortune for someone else, don't you think? Mr. Anton Koppel~"
Despite the situation, the wide-chested man smirks. "Yeah, your bad luck, la-" The next word out of his mouth is both sharp and obscene, as a heel drives into his calf and his accomplice's big, fat fist goes wide, the bounty hunter driving the butt of her gun into the second man's gut and scrambling back a step.
"Damn it! Guys like you always think they can get smart!" It's honestly shocking how quickly the elegance fades from that pretty face once you get Faye Valentine pissed off. "Now don't move or I swear to god - Your buddy there is worth big money alive but nobody's paying for me to pick you up off the pavement, jerk!" The goon's face drains of color, as Koppel scrambles away from his seat - and his noodles - only to find a gun unceremoniously thrust in his face.
"Now, you wanna test your luck again, pal?"
Everybody Feels the Wind Blow
The funny thing about money is the way it's everything and nothing. Faye Valentine has cash, as is so rarely and beautifully the case - but piled up end over end, or loaded onto a fancy chip by a worn-out Federation officer, it's just a cold, dead brick. An imaginary number. As far as Faye is concerned, money is made for the spending. And so, after reserving a beautiful room in a luxury hotel (securing lodging ahead of time being a habit Faye developed sooner, rather than later, after making that mistake only once), and ditching her sleek dress for her usual out-on-the-town little yellow number, it is, in a very literal sense, off to the races.
Though not without a few stops - a favorite food place, for an aggressively spiced skewer perfect for an easy day at the track. A nice little boutique for some cute shoes and a new pair of slick sunglasses - retail therapy for a hard-working woman. A little corner kiosk for the new Sheryl release, and a few other selections - flying music. And a restock of a few cosmetics - It's hard work!
And then, of course, the glorious ponies. The beautiful, graceful animals that were gonna carry her out of this dump, someday, she just knew it. Today, even! After all, wasn't she lucky today? Wasn't she sitting on a nice fat paycheck, proof that the gods were on her side? They could be sweet just a little bit longer, right?
___
It's number 4 across the finish line, and numbers have lost all meaning for Faye Valentine. Aren't odds supposed to mean something? She was winning! Well, she was winning enough to keep going, anyway. A nice, sweet little hot streak, all carried away on the back of that damn number 4. And now... now Faye Valentine closes her eyes, grumbles loudly at the gods, and sees a number much larger than most individual human beings will ever experience hover behind her eyes. A number too big to think about. Even the biggest fishes in the bounty hunting world are small fries when she sees that number... Sometimes she wonders if she is that number. It means more to her than her own name, though they come from the same place.
Every Ending
There's probably something ironically funny about a bottle of high-dollar champagne and a crappy instant noodle cup sitting next to each other on the edge of a bath deep enough for Faye to lose herself in. The humor is lost on her, though. She's a few glasses in, if she were going to bother with the glass, and that soft, dark hair is a halo around her as she sinks into the water, the smooth black marble soaking up light, turning the warm water into a comforting abyss her pale skin glimmers in.
Just let it soak out of you, Faye. Give up. Tomorrow, you'll call that Nergal weirdo and see if you can't make a deal. Tonight, you don't need anything. You've got it good, right here in the lap of luxury.
You don't need the money.
Her face slips under the smooth dark surface and though her eyes are squeezed tight, no god watching from on high would be able to see if she was crying.