Author Topic: Avon and Servalan  (Read 969 times)

The Dan

  • Moderator
  • Games Master
  • *****
  • Posts: 1279
  • Seek and Destroy
    • View Profile
Avon and Servalan
« on: April 28, 2013, 07:51:44 PM »
CARO REPORTING:

COMMUNICATIONS INTERCEPT FROM AIRSHIP OF BARON MINOS BRUEL:
MEETING BETWEEN INDIVIDUALS OF INTEREST KNOWN AS "SERVALAN" AND "KERR AVON"


Avon exits the crowded hall, which bustles with the pre-game chatter as Gal Artin and Megabaron Bruel prepare their pieces. Servalan is alon, her mutoid 'assistants' stood to attention by the glass doors. She stands at the balcony's edge, looking out over the city’s nightscape.

AVON: Thinking of suicide? I hear death by anagathic failure is excruciating.

Servalan stiffens at his voice, gripping the balcony rail tightly.
 
SERVALAN: No more than life without you.

After a moment she turns, leaning on the rail, giving Avon an appraising look. A moment passes as they stare at the other.

SERVALAN: Hello, Avon. You look well. No… Actually that's not true. You look old and tired.

AVON: Some of us can’t deny time thanks to the Federation medical bureau. Strange, I never imagined you as the sort to grovel for her life to pharmacists.

SERVALAN: Power won’t let me die.

Avon moves warily to stand beside her at the rail.

SERVALAN: So you are alive after all. I didn’t believe it, but I always rather hoped. You hide well. I must execute some of my surveillance personnel.

AVALON: I’m touched. Do I mean so much to you?

SERVALAN: I missed you. Will you miss me, Avon? When this old heart gives out?

AVON: I will wonder how a heartless woman can die of cardiac arrest. Perhaps that counts.

SERVALAN: Oh Avon, you’re positively sulking. Do you really hate me so much?

Avon steps closer. Servalan turns to face him, he grasps her shoulders and they look into each other’s eyes for a moment. Then he leans in even closer, as if to whisper in her ear.

AVON: Madame President, aside from the countless individual reasons someone might have for blowing your head off, you ARE the Federation.

SERVALAN: Are we really so bad?

AVON: Fat and greedy, spoilt; vicious, dying and afraid.

SERVALAN (harshly): Better one evil than many, all with the power to destroy humanity-

AVON: Especially if YOU are the one evil.

SERVALAN (looks away): So strictly business then…

Servalan slides something from a concealed socket in her jewelled broach, and places it carefully on the balcony rail. It is a tiny data-crystal. Avon releases her and steps back a pace, then slowly takes the crystal and examines it.

SERVALAN: Considering your options?

AVON: You offered me the galaxy once.

SERVALAN (smiles): And you said you’d be dead within a week

AVON: Strange, how things reverse themselves.

Avon tucks the crystal away inside his tunic.

SERVALAN (with growing fierceness): I am still the Federation, Avon. I am unique and dangerous and terrible. I can still destroy planets by pressing a button. I could destroy all of them.

AVON: Then why don’t you?

SERVALAN: Because then there’d be no one to remember me.

AVON (bitterly): I’ll remember you.

SERVALAN: Oh Avon, fondly, I hope...

Servalan steps forward, pressing herself against him. She reaches up and caresses his ancient, wrinkled cheek. He grips her wrist and slowly pushes her hand away – after a moment.

AVON: Call it nostalgia for missed opportunities.

SERVALAN (suddenly sneering): This is all about Blake, isn’t it?

AVON (cold smile): That was always a ridiculous name to me. But perhaps this is the time for ridiculous things.

SERVALAN: You were always daring.

AVON: That’s one word for it.

As if coming to an abrupt decision, Avon moves swiftly, placing something small in the palm of Servalan’s hand. She closes her fingers into a fist, and he lets go of her wrist.

SERVALAN: You won’t regret this.

AVON: I find that hard to believe.

Servalan looks at the item concealed in her hand

AVON: Tell me, why? At first I thought it was just your destructive nature-

The balcony door opens and Bruel’s major domo steps out onto the balcony. At first both Servalan and Avon regard each other with suspicion, and then turn to glower at him in perfect unison.

MAJOR DOMO: Forgive me sir, milady. (Turns to Avon) Citizen Artin asks if he can speak to you, sir. On an urgent matter, sir.

SERVALAN (raises an eyebrow): The player of games, from that pestilential rat hole? Have you made new friends, Avon? After all this time?

AVON: I think not. Their particular brand of heroism requires a level of stupidity of which I am no longer capable.

MAJOR DOMO: I am sorry sir, he was rather insistent on the urgency of the matter…

AVON: Tell him-

SERVALAN: Tell him the captain will be over shortly, to shoot him for impertinence.

Avon nods angrily and makes a sharp, dismissive gesture.

MAJOR DOMO: Yes, ma’am. Sir.

The major domo withdraws.

SERVALAN: Do you owe him a favour?

AVON (annoyed, distracted): I owe no one anything. Not for thirty years.

SERVALAN (amused): Have I hit a nerve?

Avon wraps his arms around her, staring deep into her eyes. After a moment’s resistance she ceases to struggle, returning his gaze. The conversation continues in little more than a whisper.

AVON: I could have just waited you out, you know. I still could.

SERVALAN (cold smile): No, no you couldn’t. I may be dying but there’s still no one like me. You’d be stealing from lesser men. You couldn’t abide that – and neither could I.

AVON: Perhaps I just want to stand over your corpse, and be sure you’re dead. We’ve both made that mistake before.

SERVALAN: Oh Avon, let’s not dream of what might have been…

They stare at each other for a moment, and then Servalan slowly draws away from him. She hugs herself against the chill air, and looks away from him towards the party.

SERVALAN: Suddenly I feel the cold. Like death is breathing on my neck. I want to go into the warmth, among the people, and feel alive for a time.

AVON: Lack of sentimentality was always one of your more endearing features. Don’t change now.

SERVALAN: I’ll try not to disappoint you. Let’s see your gamesman play.

They turn away from each other. They leave the balcony by separate doors.
Dan: A title of honor for respected men, equivalent to Master or Sir. Any of 12 levels of proficiency at the grade of black belt in martial arts such as judo and karate. An expert or expert level in shogi and other such games. He that judges.