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The door didn’t even lock properly anymore. She’d kicked the damn thing open one night when the fucking lock was pissing her off, and now it sat loose in the hinges and smacked against the frame at odd, obnoxious intervals.
Vi heard the slapping of the wood, and the thud of bootsteps. Someone was in her hovel. A rented undercity room that made her cell at Stillwater look like some pilty resort. She cracked one eye open, finding strange satisfaction in the sensation of her eyelashes uncrusting from one another.
She’d missed the bed again. But the floor was honestly more comfortable than the rotten mattress. Her cheek was smushed against the wood grain, and her vision was blurry as she peered through greasy dyed strands.
Blue hair.
The sight made her stomach turn, and she retched. A wheeze of bile-soaked breath but nothing in her stomach.
“Pow…?”
Her voice was wrecked, burned out from the harshest undercity liquor. She could still feel it in her blood. She hadn’t slept long enough to sober up.
The blue hair moved under the flickering bulb. It was the wrong color. Too dark. Too shiny and rich. Powder’s hair was light and fluffy-
“Pathetic.”
Oh. Wrong blue. The voice was like a snap trap springing shut. Clipped, even syllables. Every condescending letter pronounced with perfect accuracy.
“Cait-” Vi groaned.
“I tried to replace you, you know,” she sounded pissed. “Well, you’re irreplaceable. I guess. But I wanted to… fill the space.” Caitlyn stepped further into the room, wedging a boot under Vi’s bruised ribs and rolling her onto her back. “But she was too… eager. No fight in her at all. I wanted her to break, but she just kept bending. There was no challenge in it. No victory.”
Vi squinted up at Caitlyn. She was different, even from when they had fought in the tunnels. There was no raw grief. None of the untempered, relentless hate. Her expression was colder. More controlled. She stood taller - as if she wasn’t tall enough already. And Vi was on the ground, blinking through a drunken stupor and trying to figure out if this was real or not.
“Maddie?” She finally figured out what Caitlyn was saying. There was a flare of jealousy. Indignance. It wasn’t right. What did Caitlyn expect if she was going to fuck some some goody-two-shoes cadet?
A shiny topside boot, stained with mud from the undercity, landed square on Vi’s chest. “I need something I can break.”
Vi huffed out a wry laugh, wheezing from the heel digging into her solar plexus. Her split lip twisted into a smirk. “You can try, cupcake, but I don’t know if there’s anything left of me that ain’t broken.”
Caitlyn kicked her.
Just below the ribs. Vi curled in on herself, gasping for breath and clutching at her middle. No matter how many hundreds of times it happened, it still fucking hurt. She cursed through gritted teeth.
“Is that all you got? Don’t waste my fucking time.” It hadn’t even been eight hours since her last fight. More pain wouldn’t even make a difference at this point.
Caitlyn’s brows pulled together in frustration, and then her expression settled into something pleased. “See, Vi, I don’t think you’re broken. Not yet.” She lowered, too fucking prissy to kneel on the dirty floor, but she crouched low enough to wind her fingers into Vi’s hair. She visibly shuddered at the texture, the grime and the dye that was no doubt staining her hands. Vi moaned when Caitlyn dragged her up until their faces were inches apart. Embarrassing, but who could blame her? The sharp pull against her scalp, the warmth of Caitlyn’s fresh breath over her face. She’d spend the last several weeks drowning in her own blood and vomit pummeled beneath the fists of anyone she could goad into fighting her.
“How’d’you always smell good?” she slurred.
“Why are you always so rank?” Caitlyn countered.
“Touché.”
Vi managed to get her knees under her, keep Caitlyn from ripping another chunk of her hair out. She still had scabs on her scalp from the last time a few days ago. She felt the rage bubbling up inside her, pressure building. She was kneeling before a fucking pilty. This was everything she’d spent her whole life trying to resist. She’d fought so hard against wearing their badge, against fighting their battles. This was even worse.
She spit in Caitlyn’s face. Blood and sick and alcohol mixed together with molten hatred. It felt good. Bringing Commander Kiramman down to her level. Tainting her. Staining her.
She got slapped for it. A nice, crisp open palm to the face. Caitlyn's hands weren’t actually soft. She spent too much time with a rifle. But they were still Caitlyn’s hands.
“You’re fucking disgusting!” Caitlyn wiped her face.
Vi swayed drunkenly, smug and relishing the sting on her cheek. “You say that like you haven’t stuck your tongue down my throat.”
“I’ll wrap my hands around your throat if that’s what it will take.”
“Be my fucking guest, cupcake.” Vi tipped her chin back, baring her neck and running her tongue over her bloodied lips. Caitlyn’s eyes darkened, pupils blowing wide and threatening to erase the crystal blue.
She wrench Vi’s head to the side and dragged her teeth against the skin, feeling every muscle and tendon that flexed as Vi sighed softly into the sensation. Caitlyn flattened her tongue against Vi’s tattoo and licked the salt from her skin.
“You’re pretty gross too. You know that?”
“Shut up.” Caitlyn nipped her. Pinching skin between her teeth and not caring if it drew blood.
Vi’s drunken, shaky hands found their way to Caitlyn’s chest, wrapping around her slender waist and running along her back. She still wasn’t wholly convinced this was real, but she wasn’t sure her imagination could make up the smooth crisp fabric of Caitlyn’s shirt. The brass buttons that skittered across the floor when she yanked the collar open. She ran her hands over silky hair and unmarked skin and tried to commit it all to memory.
Caitlyn stood, her torn shirt hanging open as she towered over Vi. She caught the way Vi’s eyes drifted down, the way her fingers twitched for Caitlyn’s belt. “Go on then,” she challenged.
Except the fucking topsiders had to make everything too complicated, and Vi couldn’t figure out the damn clasp on the belt. Caitlyn swatted her hands away. “Fucking useless,” she rolled her eyes, but the corner of her lip twitched up.
And then Vi was yanking her trousers down to her knees and backing Caitlyn against the wall. She buried her face between Caitlyn’s thighs. Her split lip burned, but she didn’t care. All that mattered was the way Caitlyn’s nails dug into her scalp and the sounds of her breathy moans drowning out the noise of the undercity outside her broken door.
“You can pretend all you want,” Caitlyn breathed, “but I know you wanted this. Wanted to be on your knees for me.” Her hips jerked as Vi began rubbing circles on her clit with her rough, calloused thumb. “Look at what happens to you without orders to follow. You turn into a pathetic, disgusting piece of filth.”
Vi didn’t pull away to point out that Caitlyn seemed to enjoy pathetic and disgusting filth, but she did bite the inside of her thigh hard enough to make her scream.
And then she shoved two fingers inside Caitlyn’s dripping pussy and fingerfucked her until she couldn’t scream anymore.
Caitlyn shoved her away roughly when it became too much to bear, and Vi was still too drunk to stop herself from going all the way too the floor. She watched Caitlyn shudder and clutch at the edge of the sink to hold herself upright. It looked like a job well done. Especially with all the blooming bruises and bite marks left on her perfect pilty skin. Vi only wished they would last.
Caitlyn glanced down and noticed the damage, fury flaring in her eyes. “You- you animal,” she hissed.
Vi just shrugged and smiled at the ceiling.
And then Caitlyn was on top of her. It was rough, but Vi didn’t think she deserved anything else. The hand gripping her jaw, the nails scraping down her chest. The wraps she’d fought in were gone. She didn’t actually remember taking them off. But that wasn’t important when Caitlyn dug sharp fingers into the worst of the bruises on her side. This had to be real, right?
Even drunk bruised to hell, Vi probably could have fought Caitlyn off. She was clumsy, predictable, better hidden away with a rifle in her hand than trying to brawl in close quarters. But she pinned Vi to the floor and squeezed her jaw until her teeth cut the inside of her mouth. She wedged her knee between Vi’s thighs and laughed as Vi tried to rut against her. “Is that all it takes?” She ran her tongue over her teeth. “You’d hump my boot if I let you, wouldn't you?”
She wouldn’t admit it, but Caitlyn was probably right. She moaned as Caitlyn pressed harder, grinding against Vi until it hurt. “Please,” she begged. “Cait- I need-”
Caitlyn smiled. And it was dark. She really had changed. Vi felt sick as she realized that everything had kept going while she was drinking and fighting herself into an early grave. Caitlyn had tried to replace her. Caitlyn was still hunting. Still fighting.
“I knew I could break you.”
She watched Vi rut against her leg. Watched her eyes flutter and her abs tense as she came with a low growl. It was satisfying. Much better than Maddie’s girlish moans. Taking something by force felt better than simply accepting what was freely given.
Caitlyn fastened her trousers quickly, eyeing the stains on her pant legs with disgust. Her shirt was also ruined, but she buttoned her coat tightly and that took care of the problem.
Vi was still on the ground, hands reaching for an empty bottle. Caitlyn scoffed. Left her there in the same mess she’d found her. What good was it to stay in a place as filthy as this?
The door slammed shut behind her, slapping loosely against the frame as the broken latch tried desperately to catch. There was a solid boot print on the outside, right next to the lock.