REVENGE
A TOS/RL Xover; K/S/GW, Killa

<A Different Kind of Revenge Story>
Rated [PG13] for Tickling, etc...
Is It Parody? *You Decide...*
The Scene: Night time. Full moon; a few clouds. It's wintertime; it's
cold outside. Never mind *where*. All *you* need to know is, it's just outside
Killa's house, and she is conveniently alone at the moment. In the bushes lurk Kirk
and Spock and Greywolf, all dressed up in custom black ninjutsu gear. Partly because
it's good for hiding in at night -- and partly because it looks *so cool*, eh?.
Jim's has a lot of spandex -- replicator rations are cheap to a Fizzbinn Master <toothy
grin> and besides, he's got the buns for it. Like the Wolf, the Vulcan prefers a
somewhat looser, more casual fit. His are black velvet. The Wolf's, black denim --
with little black studs on them, of course. Matte finish, naturellement... ;-)>
The Wolf is carrying a black duffel bag that emits occasional muffled "clank"s
and "ching"s. Kirk and Spock both have standard StarFleet field issue
utility belts; phasers, comms gear, like that. Spock is carrying a Special Ops
tricorder -- no sound effects, duh.
They're on a mission of revenge. Killa hasn't been answering her mail again, and all
three of them are fed up with it. Hence this operation.
Spock keeps his voice very quiet; with the headsets there is no need for volume.
"Subject is on the premises, and is alone, as requested."
Jim and Greywolf exchange predatory grins. "Okay," mutters the Wolf into
his throat mike. "Let's do it." The Wolf goes up to Killa's front
door. He reaches up as if to scratch one furry grey ear, and produces a handful of
glittering, tiny lockpicks. Chewing on his whiskers, he goes to work.
A minute or two of faint scratching noises later, he reaches up and sprays something, very
quietly, on the hinges. The smell of WD-40 fills the air, and as he turns the knob,
the door ghosts silently open. The Wolf waves a paw towards his companions.
"After you, gentlemen..."
Jim grins, and a most fiendish and wicked grin it is, too. Spock merely raises one
eyebrow, and stalks silently inside, behind the human. Last is the Wolf and his
duffel; in moments there is no clue that anything untoward has happened. The Wolf
locks the door from the inside, once they're in.
"G and G time, folks..." he mutters, reaching into the duffel. In moments all
three are masked and goggled against gas. Then a gas canister is placed on the
floor. When it finishes hissing, the house is filled with a faint white haze.
Jim watches Spock; when the Vulcan nods, he knows that ten minims have passed. Anything
chordate in that house is asleep.
Silently, all three begin to open windows; in a short time the gas is gone, and they can
remove the masks. The Wolf stashes them in the duffel, and they set off for Killa's
bedroom.
It's pretty easy to find; it's the one with all the unconscious cats in it. Spock
gives one quick pass with the tricorder, and confirms all are alive, just sleeping.
Good. This is to be ashv'cha'kashe -- tickle-revenge. Not vendetta, not the
Hatfields-and-McCoys, not ashv'cezh, revenge-worse-than-death. Just ashv'cha'kashe.
That's plenty, anyhow.
Inside, they find a young woman sleeping peacefuly, more cats passed out on the bed.
Spock moves them carefully to the nearest shelves, pillows -- cat places. You know
-- Vulcans and cats -- well, *you* know...
And then we begin.
It is a very surprised Killa who wakes up some time later. The first thing she
notices is the restraints -- the locking hospital ones, the kind you can't even break on
adrenaline overdrive. Then she notices Kirk and Spock just standing there watching
her, and fear and delight go to war in her face.
That's when she notices the Wolf.
"Oh shit. I am *dead*," she mutters, looking dismayed. She looks at
the Wolf. "This was your idea, Greywolf, wasn't it? *You* put them up to
this!"
The Wolf bows, gracefully, and murmurs, "L'etat, c'est moi..." He doesn't even
try to deny it. Instead, he unzips the duffel bag and starts removing various
interesting toys. That's when you notice the label on the duffel. It says, in
elegant Neo-Victorian copperplate script, "Auntie Ruth's Toy Closet<tm>"
Having arranged enough to be getting on with, he waves a hairy grey pawhand at Kirk and
Spock. "Your witness, gents," he says, pointing to Killa -- who swallows
nervously, but to her credit, stays silent. She still has her pj's on -- this is,
after all, only ashv'cha'kashe...
Spock clasps his hands behind his back in a very familiar posture. In the black
velvet, with the headset, he looks both dangerous and edible all at once. He raises
one eyebrow, looks thoughtfully at Killa, and says, "You would appear to be in a
difficult situation."
Killa makes this faint little sound, kind of like, "heh, heh..." and nods.
Spock continues. "You have been negligent, madam. There is a certain
"story", which is unfinished..." Killa gets this look, like 'Uh-Oh',
on her face...
Then she looks over at the Wolf. "He's just as bad. Why aren't you doing
this to *him*?" It is, after all, a good question.
The Vulcan cocks his head and gives the Wolf one cool glance, and says, "That is not
what is under discussion at the moment. That has already been attended
to." She looks back at the Wolf, and he is blushing, and not meeting her
eyes. For a moment, she gets this big grin. Then...
Jim has been fiddling in the duffel bag for several minims, causing it to make the most
peculiar and interesting sound effects. Now he mutters, "found it!" and
stands up, grinning. In one hand he has a feather duster. In the other, he has
a small, silver stasis box. When he opens it, steam comes out. It holds one
perfect ice cube. Killa's eyes are very wide now.
Under her breath she mutters "oh shit," to herself. Jim's grin gets even
wider, and he walks to the foot of the bed, brandishing the feather duster. Killa's
feet are trying to hide, but they've nowhere to go...
Jim very lightly dances the feather duster across the top of each bare foot. Killa
sucks air, looks startled. He does it once more, then goes after the soles of her
feet. She squinches her eyes shut, and that's when the Wolf touches the side of her
neck with the ice cube. She jumps -- and Jim goes after her feet with the feather
duster again.
Well, we do this for a while. We have to stop a couple of times, let the lass
breathe an' all -- you know. It's fun! Well, for us, anyhow. <the
Wolf grins his very best Evil Grin.>
Finally the Vulcan holds up a hand. It is enough; this is, after all, only
ashv'cha'kashe. "Sensors show that more stimulation might have deleterious
effects upon the subject's health," he says. Since ashv'cha'kashe is a
traditional Vulcan revenge custom, we listen to him. There are *rules*, for
ashv'cha'kashe, you know. Hell, *I* didn't know... This was his idea, not
mine.
Kirk looks up. "Phase 2?" he asks.
"Indeed," Spock agrees. "Phase 2." Ice cube and feather
duster are tossed aside. The Wolf steps off to one side, so as not to obstruct
Killa's view. Kirk and Spock walk up to one another. They peel off the
headsets and toss them to the Wolf, who makes them disappear. Jim puts his fingers
on Spock's shoulders, and they lean towards each other and kiss.
Killa's eyes are about the size of dinner plates, now. She is making these funny
strangled little noises -- in short, showing all the symptoms of a major nuclear brain
meltdown.
Kirk and Spock are hugging one another, nibbling at ears and necks -- the Wolf is
wondering if they even remember they have an audience. They do, of course -- they
turn, and catch the expression on Killa's face. Spock's eyebrow does its vanishing
act, and Jim grins a shiteating grin. Even the Wolf is standing kind of, you know --
kind of, bent over, like, and his yellow eyes are *very* bright. All three men look
at each other. The Wolf nods, and asks, quietly, "Phase 3?"
The other two agree. "Phase 3." And all three of them turn, and go
into the next room. They leave all the doors open. Killa can hear, but she
can't see them -- and she can't get loose. Oh man is she ever pissed -- and wired,
and wishing to hell she was a spider under a certain table right now -- with a vidcam,
yet...
Because she can *hear*.
You know. *Sounds.* Rustling sounds, kissing sounds. Snuggling sounds.
More kisses. Zippers. Somebody moans, very softly; she can't tell who.
Killa tries like hell to get even one hand loose, but she can't. She's stuck there,
*listening*.
Warm, furry sounds. Wet, slippery sounds. Little pants and gasps.
Another moan... More rustles, an almost-silent "oof..."
A muttered, "oh... *yes*..." Sounds of people breathing faster. More
kisses. More wet and slippery sounds. Killa's gritting her teeth. She's
*pissed* -- but she's also enjoying every exquisite minute of it...
The sounds from the next room get louder, their pace quicker... *You* know...
Finally, all is quiet again, for a few minutes. Nothing but breathing, and a couple
of kisses. Then all three men come sauntering out again. They've all got this
smug "I Just Got Some" look... You know Jim -- he's pulling on his
boots. Like always, right? Spock is straightening his shirt, and the Wolf is
licking his pawhand, and "combing his hair" with it. All three are still
catching their breath, and the Wolf and the human are grinning smug and evil grins.
The Vulcan just looks smug -- they are, after all, very good at that. I think they
invented it.
Killa is still catching her own breath. It was almost fun, she is thinking.
Just before he touches her neck, the Vulcan nods at her, and says, very quietly.
"Of course. This is ashv'cha'kashe -- tickle-revenge." Then he puts
her to sleep.
We remove all traces of our presence -- except one. We check her wrists -- they are
unmarked. Her breathing is deep and steady, her heartbeat strong. She is
well. Her bedclothes cover her once more; her head is laid soft upon her pillow.
We leave, on that pillow, beside her head, three hairs. One is dead straight, and
black as night. One is a wavy, reddish-brown. And one is short and grey, with
a black tip.
Then we beam up, leaving Killa to wake up later -- and *wonder*...
-----/end/----- |