capeandcowl | 002 | text/fail-filtered to Catwoman just a few minutes before midnight

what

[The audio function clicks on, although there's only silence. For almost ten seconds, nothing but silence.

Then a heavy, ragged sigh, and suddenly video. Roman's eyes are bloodshot, his collar unbuttoned and his tie askew. He's sitting in a run down looking kitchen, his chair kicked out from the table a ways, and a mangy cat on his lap that he strokes every once in a while with a shaky hand.

Within arm's reach, there's a gun on the table in front of him.]

I can't...you should...

[A shudder passes through him and brings a hand to his forehead, running it over the blackened skin anxiously. Then he drops it again, seemingly unsure of what to do with it.]

There...there aren't any words I can say to you. Selina. To erase what I've done.

[ She flips on the video too to stare at him. Cold, emotionless eyes. ]

No. There aren't.

[It's worse, seeing her eyes like this. He remembers pulling off her goggles that night, just so he could see the life in them. To see the terror build and then, eventually, the light fade from them. But now he'd give anything not to see them. A laugh threatens to twist its way out of his throat at the cruel irony of the situation; he swallows it back down, painfully.]

I wish I could go back. To change it all. But I can't do that, can I?

[ There's something hard in them now. Cruel, even. ]

Can't change it, can't fix it. Can't make it better.

[Miserably, his voice rising now.]

You think I don't know that? What the fuck am I supposed to do?

You really have the nerve to ask me that?

[Roman wants to be angry at her, to direct his rage anywhere but at himself, but he can't. It wouldn't be right. He deserves this, after all. He deflates and drops his eyes to the gun on the table. He stares at it for a moment, then picks it up, cradling it loosely in his hand.]

I'm a monster.

[It's murmured, almost to himself. He looks up, his eyes meeting hers. His next words are louder, desperate.]

What do you want me to do, Selina? Tell me what you want.

Edited 2011-12-01 09:56 (UTC)

I want this to be real, not some bullshit the Porter or whoever made you feel.

[ So bitter. ]

[Dejected, he raises the gun to his temple.]

It doesn't matter now.

[ Now she's really staring, looking a bit startled. But she doesn't say a word. ]

[When the second hand on his watch reaches twelve, his nausea vanishes. All the guilt, all the despair, all the remorse--gone.

He feels comfortable again.

It had all been a bad trip. A hallucination. Probably the after effects of Scarecrow's Thanksgiving extravaganza. It's possible, isn't? Has to be, he thinks, the way he was going on like a lunatic about actually being sorry for everything. And in front of CW, no less.

Fucking pathetic.

With the gun still to his temple, he pulls the trigger. The empty chamber resonates with a quiet click.

And Roman smiles.]

Sike.

[ She doesn't flinch at the expected shot. But her eyes narrow a bit when he speaks. ]

Funny.

[He carelessly tosses the gun to the table and moves his hand to scratch behind the cat's ears.]

Well, now that that shit's all done with, we can get on with our lives.

[ She stares a moment longer before disconnecting. ]

what

[The audio function clicks on, although there's only silence. For almost ten seconds, nothing but silence.

Then a heavy, ragged sigh, and suddenly video. Roman's eyes are bloodshot, his collar unbuttoned and his tie askew. He's sitting in a run down looking kitchen, his chair kicked out from the table a ways, and a mangy cat on his lap that he strokes every once in a while with a shaky hand.

Within arm's reach, there's a gun on the table in front of him.]

I can't...you should...

[A shudder passes through him and brings a hand to his forehead, running it over the blackened skin anxiously. Then he drops it again, seemingly unsure of what to do with it.]

There...there aren't any words I can say to you. Selina. To erase what I've done.

[ She flips on the video too to stare at him. Cold, emotionless eyes. ]

No. There aren't.

[It's worse, seeing her eyes like this. He remembers pulling off her goggles that night, just so he could see the life in them. To see the terror build and then, eventually, the light fade from them. But now he'd give anything not to see them. A laugh threatens to twist its way out of his throat at the cruel irony of the situation; he swallows it back down, painfully.]

I wish I could go back. To change it all. But I can't do that, can I?

[ There's something hard in them now. Cruel, even. ]

Can't change it, can't fix it. Can't make it better.

[Miserably, his voice rising now.]

You think I don't know that? What the fuck am I supposed to do?

You really have the nerve to ask me that?

[Roman wants to be angry at her, to direct his rage anywhere but at himself, but he can't. It wouldn't be right. He deserves this, after all. He deflates and drops his eyes to the gun on the table. He stares at it for a moment, then picks it up, cradling it loosely in his hand.]

I'm a monster.

[It's murmured, almost to himself. He looks up, his eyes meeting hers. His next words are louder, desperate.]

What do you want me to do, Selina? Tell me what you want.

Edited 2011-12-01 09:56 (UTC)

I want this to be real, not some bullshit the Porter or whoever made you feel.

[ So bitter. ]

[Dejected, he raises the gun to his temple.]

It doesn't matter now.

[ Now she's really staring, looking a bit startled. But she doesn't say a word. ]

[When the second hand on his watch reaches twelve, his nausea vanishes. All the guilt, all the despair, all the remorse--gone.

He feels comfortable again.

It had all been a bad trip. A hallucination. Probably the after effects of Scarecrow's Thanksgiving extravaganza. It's possible, isn't? Has to be, he thinks, the way he was going on like a lunatic about actually being sorry for everything. And in front of CW, no less.

Fucking pathetic.

With the gun still to his temple, he pulls the trigger. The empty chamber resonates with a quiet click.

And Roman smiles.]

Sike.

[ She doesn't flinch at the expected shot. But her eyes narrow a bit when he speaks. ]

Funny.

[He carelessly tosses the gun to the table and moves his hand to scratch behind the cat's ears.]

Well, now that that shit's all done with, we can get on with our lives.

[ She stares a moment longer before disconnecting. ]

002 | text/fail-filtered to Catwoman just a few minutes before midnight

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