Hopelessly Devoted *Vice*

[Daphne Manos]

Tugging at the cap upon her head, Daphne tried to hide her feminine features. Sometimes she loved her beauty, it helped a lot; but other times she cursed it. Like now. She needed to get halfway across New York in middle of the night without attracting attention to herself. That was a hard thing, especially for a girl like Daphne. Many girls as attractive as Daphne used their beauty to gain money, spoiling their beauty. Daphne was not one of those girls. In fact, those kind of girls disgusted her. She hated it when men approached her asking for her price. Did she look like a prostitute? Just because she was pretty did not mean she was a prostitute! Daphne had decked a few guys because of that issue. Guys were so stupid.

It made Daphne mad that she had to go to such great lengths to gain respect. Men think that girls are only good for one thing, and when a girl proves that she is worth more then that they think she is nothing. How many times Daphne had been told that she could not fight because she was a girl. Well, those boys had learned their lesson as they fell back astonished at the fact that her fist had actually made it to their face. And yet she still had problems gaining their respect.

She was definitely not in the mood for that tonight. The fact that she had to trudged all the way across New York just to update Mike because he was too lazy to meet her made her mad enough. But of course Conlon had to add to make it worse. Daphne cursed and spat at the mere thought of Conlon. He was one of those people that just made you want to rip their head off every time you saw them.

And yet she also wanted to get to know him, talk to him, and kiss him. Daphne groaned. There she went thinking about Spot like every other girl did. She hated that she had fallen for him. She wasn’t supposed to. She was supposed to stay strong. Well, Daphne was being honest with herself. She knew she liked Spot, maybe even more. But Daphne knew he didn’t share her feelings, and if he did it would just be attraction to her appearance. And that is why Daphne would never admit to anyone that she had fallen for Spot. Never.

Daphne seriously wanted to slap herself. Lately, she had found herself thinking more and more about Spot. He seemed to be the thing that occupied her thoughts and haunted her dreams. Why couldn’t she just not fall for a guy? She had done pretty well so far. Maybe she needed to be around Spot less. But she was already alienating him as much as she could. Mike had sent her to Brooklyn to spy on them and find out what Spot was planning and doing. She couldn’t do that unless she talked to him. And the fact that he didn’t respect her made it very clear that the only way she was going to get the information she needed was to “woo” him into talking about it. And Daphne dreaded every second of that.

But did she really?

Daphne had to clamp her mouth shut from screaming. Stupid, stupid, stupid Spot. Daphne kicked the wall of the building she was passing, but then cried out in pain as she realized that she had kicked it a little harder then she had planned. She fell against the wall, groping for her foot. That hurt really bad! She turned and slid down the wall, wanting to fall asleep right here. She was so tired, so angry, so frustrated, and so ready to punch someone. This was not her day. Wait, no, not her week!

And of course it had to start to rain. Of course. Daphne groaned, probably for the hundereth time that night. She let her head fall back against the cool cement behind her, her face turned upward. The rain poured on her face, not showing any hint of letting up. “Got anything else?!” She screamed. Could this get worse? Oh yeah, it could. Daphne had no idea where she was. Great.

[Vice Ingram]

There were always so many things to think about. Usually, Vice found that he could push most of his unwanted thoughts to the back of his crowded mind, where they sat waiting to be dealt with, shunned yet never quite forgotten. Now Vice was realizing that these same thoughts were beginning to seep through into his subconscious and he was dwelling on them more and more, much to his dismay. He struggled to keep his mind moving, his thoughts spinning chaotically so that they were unable to settle down onto the very things he dreaded thinking about. So far, it wasn't working.

How many times had he been over this with himself? And how many times had he acknowledged the same points, pondered the same consequences, drawn the same conclusions? Vice knew he was getting nowhere, knew he was hopelessly stuck in a swamp of muddled emotional mire. And yet, he refused to give in. There was something in him that resisted all outside superiority, making submission impossible. It was on nights like these that Vice found himself wishing he had it in him to surrender. As strong as he felt by taking on the world alone, he had to admit it. Surrender took guts. And he didn't have enough of that.

He hadn't seen Molly again since that time two weeks ago, and although part of him was relieved, the other was sick with worry. Maybe it hadn't been her. Maybe he'd only imagined it. Maybe it had been her, but he'd been mistaken about her condition. His family would have been better off without him, anyway. What had he ever done for them except play the role of another mouth to feed, another burden to bear? And that was the thing. As obligated as he felt toward his sister, Vice really had no desire of yet another burden to carry atop his already weary shoulders. It was enough work looking out for one, and he thought decidedly that he'd like to keep it that way. Just one, that is. He didn't need a second. He didn't need Molly.

Vice looked up at the sky, staring blankly. He could smell the rain on the cobblestone streets, feel the mist on his face, as he straightened his cap and walked on. The night was silent, save for the pounding of the rain, and Vice gladly let it wash over him, welcoming the solitude. And then it was broken. Vice let his eyelids flutter open as a ear-splitting scream erupted into the night. Not exactly what he'd been expecting to hear just now. Still, Vice roused himself out of his reverie, snapping a glance toward the direction of the sound. He could just barely make out a huddled figure against the wall, face upturned to the sky as his had been a moment ago. He wished he'd thought of that first. Suddenly allowing his pent-up emotions break loose, Vice let out a reckless scream in return, listening as the echo of his deep, husky voice reverberated through the cool night air.