Chapter Text
He realized that the hint of green he saw out of the corner of his eye was not a hallucination when he feels a fist make contact with the side of his face. Slick had just taken a second to leave his hide-out to buy a pack of cigarettes, taking a short stop in a nearby alley when he found himself reeling from a very well placed hit.
He reached for his cards and within seconds he sees his assailant- as if it were any question who she was- take out a lance and hit him with the dull side, sending Slick flying into the brick wall, his vision dimming in the already pitch-black light.
“Fuck you!” She snarled, and this gave Slick enough of a warning for him to pull out a card. He flipped it between his fingers and shot out his arm, hoping for his knife to make contact with her Carapace- he didn’t mean to kill her, but she could get wounded as much as he liked.
“No-“ She knocked the knife from his hand and pushed him onto the ground, trapping him beneath her weight and immobilizing him beneath her lance. “Fuck you, Slick you are not going to be stabbing me there is no way I am going to let you stab me, Slick-“ The lance tightened on his wrists, the long weapon reaching it’s way across and crushing his windpipe. And to think she was in this same position with him not too long ago, though there was less clothing involved and her yelling had a different sort of content. He’d started to grin at the memory when Snowman took a hand and slapped him across the face.
“Jesus y’ harpy, get the hell offa me!” He said, struggling beneath her.
“You fucking bastard! You liar!” Another strike.
“What the hell are you babbling about you bitch?!” He growled, getting tired of this very quickly and wishing that he could just stab her, but he guesses that he should be happy that she isn’t doing the same to him.
“You are a liar! You told me that you wore a condom you son of a bitch!”
Oh. So this was what she was on about. It wasn’t a relief though, and Slick could feel a cold sweat forming at the back of his neck. “Well it wasn’t me, hon. I’m clean. Maybe it was one of those green guys who got you sick-“
She cut him off with another slap. “No, you bastard, I’m not compatible with anyone who I have slept with but you”
He squints, a little confused when she shakes him again. “What, you mean that they don’t have-“
Another strike to his face, and he’s really getting sick of this bullshit when she sits up, taking her weight of the lance. “No, no, you idiot, I mean-“ He takes the opening he’s given and throws his knife up at her stomach. Before it can make contact she snatches it from his hand and throws it away in the dark alleyway, her face livid. “Don’t you dare, Slick. I’m not letting you kill our child.”
What.
The silence went on for what seemed like forever until Slick finally spoke up. “Our What.”
“Are you dense? Slick. I’m pregnant and it’s your fault, you backstabbing lying son of a bitch. And I’m-“ This time, it was Spades who cut her off.
“What the hell do you mean you’re pregnant? Toots, just because we slept together doesn’t mean that you’re having my kid. In fact, it’s impossible. Both Dersites and Prospitians are sterile.” That’s what he’d always heard when he was still an archagent. That’s why they had the cloning stations. That’s why everyone looked exactly the same as everyone else, and that’s what kept citizens in check.
She just lets out a laugh, keeping him pinned. “Some of the troops were, but I wasn’t and you aren’t because we are one of a kind, Slick. We aren’t programmed like the rest of society was and therefore we can have children. I was queen, I know these things.” The smile left over from that laugh is quickly fading to something unreadable.
She’s lying. He knows that she is because she always lies, and this was just another way to fuck with him. “Bullshit,” He sneers. Her mouth opens before she yanks his hand towards her stomach, and presses it hard. He doesn’t feel anything. “As I said, bullshit. I ain’t feelin anything, and if I did, you putting on a bit of weight doesn’t mean anything. Not buying it, try again”
“I don’t have time for your bullshit-“
“I don’t have time for yours, toots,”
Another hit, and this time she has taken out a knife of her own, holding it tight to her throat, threatening to let it slip at any second. “Shut it, Slick. It’s more than that. I’ve been ill and you’re the only other Dersite I’ve slept with and Stitch checked me over and told me—“
“Look, I don’t care what a tailor said, he doesn’t know any more than you do. All he does is sew up his dolls, he isn’t a real doctor, and he knows no more about your situation than you claim to know.“ This time she shuts him up with a hand around his throat, squeezing hard and cutting off all air.
A gasp escaped Slick’s mouth before he started to claw at the hand around his throat, slowly prying her off. “I don’t need this right now, I don’t know why I thought this would be a good idea…” She mutters to herself, dropping her head, not realizing he’s gotten enough give to be able to breathe.
After a few deep breaths, a sneer still makes its way across his face, though he’s trapped and in trouble. He opens his mouth and begins to speak, his voice more degrading than his words. “And even if I did knock you up, there’s not a thing I would do about it, other than tear the abomination out of you myself. Face it, no one would want to raise anything with you, you’re good for a one night stand and that’s it.”
She stops, and before long he feels something stabbed deep into his shoulder, and he’s cussing and cursing enough to make a sailor blush when he hears an empty sob, and in an instant, the weight on top of him is gone.
Slick sits up, not bother to look for her because she’s probably long gone. He begins to mutter beneath his breath, brushing himself off and standing up shakily. Crazy bitch. She calls him the liar? Hilarious. Rotating his shoulder, he starts his trek back to the manhole cover where he lives, trying to forget what just happened.
“I need a goddamn cigarette.”