so this ain't livejournal

Okay so this is the inaugural post for fic in this journal. I wish it was Who ‘cause so much of my f-list are Who fans. Instead I have a Middleman fic, my second. Hope you enjoy.

Title: The End of The Day Feel Good Feeling
Fandom: The Middleman
Characters/Pairings: Wendy Watson, some pre-pairing Wendy/Middleman
Genre: …slice of life?
Summary: Wendy goes from awesome to suck to good. In 551 words.
Author’s Note: I don’t have a beta currently, so enjoy the errors in grammar and characterization. The no beta thing is probably extra bad as this is an experimental piece for me: it is in second person, my first second person fic, ever, so please comment with what you think. This is also an entry for the first photo at the ficathon for mm_ww.



prompt:



You're alone. Your boss is down some other alley in the city, and you’re alone in this one. You move quietly, though not silently, down the deserted alley. Deserted that is but you, the rats, and the small camp of tramps you passed on your way in. Your Middlegun is drawn, set, and ready to fire. The light from the street slowly disappears as you move forward.

You feel absolutely awesome. Come on, weapon, high-heels (that you are refusing to admit are absolutely killing your feet, thank god for Sensei Ping's training, pain of high heels seemed inconsequential now), stalking stealthily around back alleys, half noir goddess, half kick ass sidekick superhero. God, you are awesome.

A noise too large to be one of the rats you hear scuttling across your path and you turn without conscious decision, your gun raised. A light filters out as an emergency door opened. A man, not to gently pushed by two big men, falls forward from a club, drunk. He waits for a moment, never seeing you, before stumbling back towards the street. Towards civilization. You don't follow. You are for just a moment blinded, and illuminated in the shaft of light, you drop your gun to your side, no one was watching but you perform the action anyway. The door closed quietly, for a moment you can see nothing, the back hallway of the club, too bright, and your eyes take too many seconds to readjust. Your leather shoes, shiny gun, and shiny watch, catch the last of the light as you wait for the resounding clunk.

You move into the deeper shadows quickly. Your eyes pick up only silhouettes. You hit the back wall of the alley.

Nothing. You sigh, kick the wall, and turn around. You holster your gun, and this time as you walk your heels click and resound against the buildings.

Suddenly you're tired. Quite, absolutely, shattered. You feel bored, cold, your feet are killing you, and you feel so alone you want to yell at the barely visible stars, because you know there is something out there. Instead though you turn to your Middlewatch,

"Boss."

"What do you need Dubbie?"

"To go home." You wait a second, your stomach growls. "And food."

"I’ll be there in a jiffy.” Jiffy. you think, Really? A jiffy?. You’re waiting silently at the front of the alley, and you see the large black American car round the corner. And suddenly you're in the middle of the sidewalk, people moving against you, the yellow streetlights making details visible, and then the Middlemobile is in front of you.

"Coming Dubbie?"

You sigh and grin lightly. "Coming boss." And then you're in the large car and leaning backwards into the large leather seats.

“Indian?" He asks, his perfectly groomed self not looking an inch as tired as you feel.

"Sounds good." You mutter as close your eyes and sink further into the seat. You don't feel awesome anymore, but you feel good. And that's excellent for the end of a long day stalking the city for a mutant, psychic penguin.

Your eyes open a crack. The Middleman is looking over at you and grins with his insane constant cheerfulness. You smile slightly as you close your eyes again. Yeah, you feel good, and that’s awesome.



Comments are loved. :D