JINXSY + d2 + done

Wanna join me?
Come and play...

LOOK I'M OPENING UP MY BOX OF CARE.

LET'S SEE WHAT'S INSIDE.

(it's empty CX)

<////3

But I might shoot you
in your face!

A sigh and a shuffle as she kicks the bullet casing in front of her.

"You're never gonna have one of those damn guns with you in the arena!" her father shouted at her, the vein in his forehead popping. "Why can't you and your sister be more like Vi and find something you can actually use when you volunteer?"

A grin twists her lips to life, her eyes widen and she lets off a round of bullets from the mini-gun gripped in her hands.

"JINGLE SHELLS FATHER SMELLS VIVIAN LAID AN EGG," she sings at the top of her lungs above the din of bullets leaving a gun and landing inside a target, their little golden bodies whistling through the air as their casings drop in piles at her feet.

She stops firing and blows her bangs up out of her face before patting her best companion in the world. 

"Good work today, Pow-Pow." She glances up at the wooden crate. The lines of graffiti that once created a caricature of her father were demolished, along with the crate.

"Looks like I really broke you up, eh, Dad?"

She turns to the piles of blankets and the duffle bag. "Sorry, baby," she murmurs as she wraps the joy of her heart up in a bunch of rags, not bothering to check for stray bullets.

Zipping the duffle bag up, she turns to find her clothes, her long, teal braids nipping at her tush and ankles as she walks towards the discarded t-shirt.

When one is firing high-powered weaponry, being practically naked makes it all the more enjoyable.

She shoves her head into the shirt and slides it down her body before tugging on the ripped-up shorts.

With one last glance over her handy work, she snags up her can of hot pink paint and starts to spray in long, sloppy spurts. 

Bombs and bullets will do the trick.
What we need here is a little bit of panic oh ah!

Ask me if I'm listening!

(hint: I'm not!)

CXXX

Do you ever want to catch me?
Right now I'm feeling ignored!

"Ramona? Where have you been?" her mother asks quietly, almost an inaudible whisper if Jinx hadn't been so used to the wilted woman's voice.

Caitlin stood in the kitchen, peeking out from beyond the door and Vi sat up permanently from her sit ups or whatever the hell it was she was doing.

"Working out," Jinx responds with a shrug, dropping her bag with a loud bang and then jumping onto the couch. She hung herself upside down and looked at her mother. "Got a problem with that?"

"Don't you sass-talk your mother!" Vi shouts, taking Dad's usual place in the arguments.

"I can say whatever the fuck I want to. Who cares? Who's gonna stop me?"

"I will, you ungrateful little shit!" Vi bellows. She stands and cracks the knuckles of her abnormally large hands that take pleasure in punching the living shit out of anyone willing to cross her.

"What you gonna do, Fat Hands?" Jinx says with a grin, sticking her tongue out. "Gonna pound my face in? Gonna pummel your little sister and teach her a lesson? Pull a dad, Pinkie. Go ahead."

Vivian paled and faltered, taking a step back. She'd inherited her father's temper and propensity for violence. She glanced down at the hands that were too much like his.

"That's what I thought, Vi," Jinx said with a sigh from the couch as she stood back up. "I was out. Now I'm back. I don't know why it mattered so much."

"We were worried," Caitlin piped from the kitchen. "You'd left six hours ago."

"Six hours?" Jinx glanced at the clock. "So it has been!"

With a flick of blue roped braids and a turn of bony ankles, Jinx hopped up the steps, her "work-out" bag re-slung over her shoulder.

It took so much effort to keep a lid on the chaos. So much effort around normal people. Jinx felt she might crack and burst forth like Pandora's box if she didn't get out and find her outlet.

She pulled the bag off and tossed it on her bed before digging through it and pulling out Pow-Pow and any and every trace of guns (besides the power residue that stained her soul more than her hands) from the public eye. These were for the Attic only.

Slipping over the closet, clutching the gun and stray shells in her arms, she climbed up onto the dresser instead and kneeled against its surface. She set the gun down before reaching for the ceiling, pushing up on it and sliding back the door that was revealed.

Pow-Pow and Fishbones and her beauties and their bullet buddies lay in the space between the roof and her bedroom.

"Be good, babies. I'll be back soon.".

Well can't you try a little harder?
I'm really getting bored!

Three guns means...

NEVER HAVING TO SAY I'M SORRY

LOL #SRRYNOTSRRY

CX

Come on! Shoot faster!
Just a little bit of energy yeah!

Her room always smelled like paint. Sometimes she liked to close the door, do some art and then light up a cigarette, her pulse thrumming for an explosion the likes of which district two had never seen.

She sat in the bay window, its glass panes long since coated by neon splatters of aerosol paint, one leg tucked up by her chest, the other braced against the wall.

For once, there was a clean night breeze that made the open window rattle and sway against its brace every time it gusted past. Jinx took a deep breath, almost tasting the air, and closed her eyes before bringing the cigarette back to her wide and waiting mouth.

Blowing out curls of smoke, she smiled and watched the flashing lights out by the warehouse. Guns were loud. Loud meant hearing. Hearing meant investigating. Investigating meant running.

Her heart linked arms with her mind, skipping along a path where Brown-Eyed Susans swayed by the wayside, peering back at her with their single almost-black eyes, and Mexican Hats cha-chaed to the thrumming in her chest.

"You're gonna get caught one of these days," Caitlin had said to her one night, after a gentle knock on her bedroom door. "You're family right now, but one of these days, Vi and I will be Peacekeepers and you'll be all alone and we'll be hunting you down."

Jinx had shrugged. Vi didn't scare her. She loved Vi. Vi was even crazier than Jinx was. 

Caitlin. Caitlin was scary. The savagery of their father in the determined, patient and-- above all-- quiet mind and body of their mother. She was a force to be reckoned with. A force to fear.

Jinx didn't fear the arm of the law. It only stretched so far. It was its mind that made that thrumming seize within her like an internal straight jacket.

"I'll keep that in mind, sister dearest," Jinx said to herself before taking a final drag on the cigarette and flicking the butt out into the shit hole street below. "I'll definitely keep that in what little mind I have left."

I wanna try something fun right now,
I guess some people call it anarchy!

"Let's just behave."

- SAID NO ONE.

EVER.

Let's blow this city into ashes
And see what pow-pow thinks.
It's such pathetic neatness,
But Not for long cause you'll get JINXed!