She was not an angry person

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Science Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
Blaise Johnson is known for being tolerant and calm. Some people see this as a challenge. Contains bad language. Please read A Brief History of Gamma and Everyday Life There for context!

Submitted: June 03, 2014

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Submitted: June 03, 2014



Blaise Johnson had never been one for professional sports; she'd been useless when she was younger, and she didn't understand the rules. Still, it was certainly more entertaining  to watch several young men chase after a ball than it is to watch two men in suits attempt to flatter each other.

She still didn't know why she was there, but when the President invites her to a VIP box at a sports game and gives her exquisite food and drink she doesn't tend to ask many questions. She didn't now. She watched the game from the window, champagne in hand, waiting for a reason to make itself known. The men continued to laugh at one another's bad jokes and generally compliment each other.

Finally one of the men walked towards her. It was President Spurling. An athletic man in his early forties, he didn't look like a politician. His face was sharp and chiseled with a defined jawline and cool grey eyes. He didn't say anything. She awkwardly adjusted her black silk blazer.

"They're behaving like children." Blaise said at last, commenting on a small fight that had broken out between two of the players.
"So are you, Miss Johnson," replied Spurling, "You haven't spoken a word all afternoon.  Are you in a sulk?"
"Me, acting like a child?" Blaise scoffed. She glanced at the table in the middle of the room which had not yet been cleared, "With all due respect, Mr President, you were the one that fed me hot fudge sundae. If I'm treated like a child I may as well act like one."
"I'm sorry, I forget it isn't everyone's favourite. And please, call me Connell." Blaise desperately hoped he wasn't trying to flirt with her, she'd have no idea how to react. Plus, if something happened between them, people would certainly talk. What was the sister of the British Prime Minister doing fooling around with the President of the USA? And she said she wasn't interested in politics...

"Why did you invite me here?" She finally asked.
"I was waiting for that." Connell smiled. "About your brother..."
"What about him?" Blaise interrupted suspiciously, raising an eyebrow, "I told you, Benjamin isn't going to become another Darwin Foster."
"I'm aware of that. But, well, don't take this personally, but your relationship with him is making me somewhat uncomfortable." Blaise didn't respond to this, but kept her eyebrow raised. He continued.
"You know as well as anybody the current tension between the British Alliance and the US.  As well as the money you get from your brother to fund your, um, organization. I just want to know what will happen if all Hell breaks loose. I'm sure you wouldn't choose to fight for me and the US, yet you still continue to operate here despite the tension."
Blaise chuckled in disbelief. "First off, my, um, organization has a name. Gamma, if you please. And second, do you have any idea how much work I've put into both the Academy and HQ? Do you know how many people are working under me? Picking up and moving country is easier said than done. Anyway, my people and I are highly trained in swordsmanship and combat, but you know that we see violence as a last resort. If possible I would like to participate in negotiations with an unbiased view. I don't want any more gilodi-bombs stinking up the place." Her blue eyes flashed an angry green as she used a cocktail stick to pluck a raspberry out of her glass, and pulled it off the stick with her teeth.
"Why-ever are you so against more gilodinol? Is it not the reason your eyes can do that? As well as your wonderful talent with fire. It made you a hero. Plus, wouldn't that give you more students? More people to play with?" Behind him, the crowd erupted in outrage at the referee, who probably made a poor decision.

Blaise realized that Connell was not being completely serious and didn't know whether to be more or less offended by that. She slammed her glass against the windowsill, champagne splashing onto the white surface. 

"Dear Lord, Spurling, I can't believe you just said that." She spoke in a hushed tone, which she found worked better than shouting to intimidate, "Have you ever seen the statistics? The amount of people who have been killed by gilodi-bombs? All Gamma tries to do is make the best of a bad situation. We're not all entirely thrilled to be this severely mutated, what with all the health problems and sheer hatred that come along with it. Please don't be so naive and inconsiderate." She shook her head in disgust, her thick blonde hair swaying around her shoulders. "Are we done here?"
"Sure. You're free to leave if you wish, or if you'd like to stay until the end of the game-"
"No thank you, I have to be off." She snapped. She glanced around the room a final time, and noticed the second man had disappeared. She saw herself out.

She walked briskly out of the stadium, breathing slowly to calm herself. Her heels clacked against the pavement. The place was deserted save for one man, drunk, who whooped as she passed by. She glared at him, but he continued to leer.
The amount of male attention she received had always confused her. She was rather short yet muscular, very different from her own taste in women. Must be a masculine thing. She made a mental note to ask the next guy she saw about it, but erased it when she saw the man in the white jeans and t-shirt sitting on her car.
Daniel Hardy smirked when he saw her approach. He slid down the round exterior of the sleek black Porsche and landed firmly on his feet. Blaise stared at him, wearing confusion and fear on her face. 

"Why are you here?"
"You've been drinking and you were planning to drive home. Think, Frances."
"Don't you tell me to think. Thinking is what brought you here." She tapped his temple, "Also, Frances? No." Frances was her middle name, and she despised it. Dan knew that, he knew everything about what went on in her brain. Bloody psychics. 
"C'mon then," Dan sighed, "you need a lift." Blaise rolled her eyes, she'd had two sips. Of champagne. He ignored her mental protest and gestured towards the passenger seat.

The ride home was quiet and uneventful. They exchanged pleasantries and small talk, rotten weather, huh? There was no real point in deep conversation. Dan already knew the things Blaise was too scared to say out loud, and everything she wasn't. Yet she didn't know all that much about him. She was just as annoyed at this one-sided-ness then as she always was. At one point, she had felt herself begin to fall asleep, but jolted herself awake. She didn't want to imagine the awkwardness of being woken up by him. It was almost enough to make her shudder. She focused on her four evening essentials instead; tea, chocolate, books, bed. The words repeated in a cycle around her head, then she cringed as Dan glanced her way.
He dropped her off outside her building. It was extremely tall, and clean. Most of the apartments had large balconies, and it was clearly an expensive building. Blaise didn't move. Instead, she looked at him expectantly. Dan knew what she meant.

"No, you get straight home. I'll park this for you. Keep your door unlocked so I can give your keys back, okay?"
"Haha. Nice try, but Hell no. You'll steal my car!"
"Your lack of faith hurts me. Plus, I prefer to steal Ferraris. I'm not a Porsche kind of guy." "You should have seen my first car. An antique Vauxhall."

Eventually, she gave up and let him park the car. Ten minutes later she was already in her pajamas when her door made a warning sound. Somebody had tried to get in. Blaise realized she had locked the door due to habit. Crap. She shuffled over in her slippers to unlock it, mumbling an apology as it opened. 

A gloved hand grabbed her shoulder. Her eyes flashed with intense fear as she looked up at his face. The man's face was hooded, but she could see crimson pouring from his eyes. He opened his mouth, and blood so dark it was almost black oozed out through the gaps in his teeth. He was panting, gurgling, hot breath making steam even in the warm corridor. Blaise could hear him grunting and gasping for air.

She screamed and pushed him away, falling to the floor. She scrambled to her feet. Her sword was still in the bedroom; if she made a break for it now she wouldn't make it. She knew what she had to do. She gathered her strength. With Connell's words your wonderful talent with fire playing in her head, readied herself to shoot him with hot flame as he went for her neck.

As quickly as he had appeared, he was gone again. Vanished into thin air. Blaise stared at the space where the monster had just been, breathing heavily from the shock. She watched the doorway cautiously, half expecting him to reappear. Anxiety enveloped her and threatened to consume her if the monster didn't first- A sound. A terrible sound. The worst sound in the world. The last sound she had wanted to hear.

Laughter. Dan's laughter. A chortle so warm and rich it would put a hot chocolate fondue to shame. Blaise's fear quickly turned to anger as she scowled around the corner, where he'd been hiding.

"You little shit!" She screeched, as a bolt of malachite flame shot towards him. It narrowly missed and left a nasty burn mark on the wall behind him. "What the fuck did you do that for? Was an illusion like that really necessary? I'll kill you! And now that's coming out of my rent!" She pointed forcefully at the damage on the wall.

Dan blinked in surprise. He'd never heard her swear before, and he'd known her for the best part of a decade. He couldn't remember seeing her that angry before either. She was always so calm, only ever acting angry to intimidate. He was in deep shit now, he knew. He raised his arms as if to steer blame away from himself.

"Just check before you open the door next time." He spoke quietly to contrast her shrill yells, and threw her the keys. He walked away, leaving Blaise to fume to herself. She was not an angry person, in fact she was quite tolerant, but some people just seemed out to piss her off.


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