Quick fic: A Show of Solidarity
I come bearing genfic.
Title: A Show of Solidarity
Disclaimer: Characters belong to Alan Moore.
Rating: PG-13
Characters: The Minutemen.
Summary: The Silhouette leaves the Minutemen. Sort of a mix of comic, sourcebook and movie canon, written quickly during my lunch breaks.
(X-posted to watchmenfic.)
Byron only attended the meeting out of duty. He felt that he should observe it. He had already said his piece, and there was nothing he could do to change their decision, so the least that he could do was watch. He would not turn away from this. At least the scotch had taken the edge off things and made him feel more like himself.
He stood in the corner, arms crossed, trying to ignore the tic that was beginning to develop under his left eye. In the middle of the room, at the conference table, sat Laurence, Nelson, H.J., Hollis, Bill and Sailly. They were all sitting on the same side, in a neat little row with Larry at the center.
Ursula sat opposite them.
The Comedian was the only other person who wasn't seated; he was leaning against the wall, bottle in one hand, shot glass in the other. Byron wondered why he bothered with the glass. The kid (and Byron would forever think of him as 'the kid', as he swore that the Comedian had the emotional maturity of a particularly mean-spirited twelve year old) had a detached, almost bored expression.
"I think you know why we've called this meeting," Laurence said to Ursula, and shuffled the papers in front of him.
Ursula didn't answer. The look in her eyes could have peeled a diamond. Nelson coughed. Sally examined her nails. Laurence and H.J. just stared straight ahead, resolute. Hollis just had a blank expression on his face, as if he knew that he was out of his depth on this one and, by god, he was going to sit there quietly and hope that Ursula would forget he was there. Bill just looked like a kicked puppy.
"We've been very concerned by your conduct over the past few years, Ursula," Laurence said. "And I'm saddened that things have reached this point. So, in light of your recent behaviour, I am officially asking on behalf of the Minutemen that you resign from the group."
"I see," said Ursula and - despite everything - Byron had a twisted sort of sympathy for Laurence. Byron frequently found Ursula intimidating, and he was supposed to be on her side. The problem with Ursula was too clever for her own good, and she knew it. And she wanted everyone else to know it, as well. Still, he'd always admired her confidence. With some of the Minutemen, you got the impression that their masked identities were who they wanted to be. With Ursula, you got the impression that the Silhouette was who she really was, only moreso.
When she glanced over to look at him, he felt thoroughly disgusted with himself. "I tried," he told her. "I was out-voted."
"I'll bet. I imagine that it was a landslide." Ursula tapped the ash off her cigarette and replaced the holder in her mouth, chewing on the stem for a moment. "I can't say I'm surprised. It would be nice, though, if Nelson could look me in the eye. I can tolerate hypocrites - I don't have to like them, but I can tolerate them. Cowards, not so much."
Nelson glanced up, albeit briefly. "Ursula - what were you thinking? We don't... have such a problem with what you do behind closed doors. However, when you choose to flaunt it in public, you know that it'll reflect upon the rest of us as a group, and that's just selfish. We can't afford that sort of attention."
"Yeah," Laurence chimed in, removing his glasses and sighing. "I'm going to speak candidly for a moment: Jesus, are you nuts, Ursula? You've always been audacious, but now you've pushed it too far. We've been so careful about publicity, and you go and throw it all back in our faces. You're going to bring a whole heap of trouble down on yourself. We don't want anything to do with that. It's not cowardice, it's common sense - my patience has its limits, and it's obvious that you're never going to compromise. This just isn't working out."
"I thought this group was about standing up for what we believe in," Ursula said. "About not being afraid any more."
"She's right," said Byron.
H.J. spoke up. "Byron," he said. "You're naive."
It was the same sort of tone that people used when they said, 'Byron, you're drunk,' and Byron always wanted to reply, 'maybe, but I'm still right'. He didn't, though. Instead, he rubbed at his eye in the hope of making the tic go away.
Ursula gave him a thin smile. "Thank you, Byron." She looked to Hollis, Sally and Bill. "Well. Do you have anything to say?"
"Oh great, don't pick on me," Sally said, sullenly. "I agree with Laurence."
"You would," Ursula replied, and fixed her gaze on Hollis, who was making a valiant effort to look stoic, and so far failing miserably. "Well?"
"I, er, didn't feel qualified to vote," he said. "So I didn't."
"Oh, Hollis. You know that's even worse, right?" Ursula's face was beginning to show her disappointment. Byron had thought she'd be angry. It would have been better if she'd been angry. "I know that you voted me out, Bill. I imagine that Laurence made a pretty good argument."
Bill had the decency to meet her eyes. "I'm sorry it's come to this," he said.
"So am I." Ursula inhaled her cigarette, then breathed out a long sigh of smoke in the direction of Hooded Justice. "Am I the only one here who finds it cute that he's a complete psychopath with a reputation for permanently maiming people, and he's still tolerated? But I kiss another woman, and I'm fired?"
Hooded Justice bristled, and Byron saw him briefly glance to Nelson.
"You're over-simplifying it, and you know it," Nelson said. "And Hooded Justice's past indiscretions are a completely different can of worms. They're not relevant to the matter at hand."
Ursula shrugged, and regarded him sharply. "Perhaps I just kissed the wrong person. I thought that there were worse things out there than lesbianism."
Nelson just looked as if she'd said a dirty word. It made Byron want to kick him.
Laurence quickly interjected; "We've been patient with you. Really, we've tried, and we've overlooked so many things, and we all make the effort to tolerate each other's foibles... But the press isn't going to be so forgiving. Not anymore. And if the press is giving us a hard time, it's just going to make it harder to do public good." He paused, tried to return her stare, then gave up. "Jesus, Ursula, stop looking at me like that. I don't have to like it, but I have to look out for the group's interests. I have to make these decisions as a manager."
"Fuck you, Larry," Ursula said, quietly, and stood up from her seat. She strode to the door, posture perfect, heels clocking sharply against the wooden floor. The last thing that she ever said to them was, "Enjoy your Boys' Club."
Byron knew that the contents of her office would already be waiting for her in cardboard boxes. The group waited in the conference room, to give her time to collect her personal items and leave the building.
"Never liked the rug-munching bitch anyway," said the Comedian, and Byron noted that no-one told him to shut up.
Title: A Show of Solidarity
Disclaimer: Characters belong to Alan Moore.
Rating: PG-13
Characters: The Minutemen.
Summary: The Silhouette leaves the Minutemen. Sort of a mix of comic, sourcebook and movie canon, written quickly during my lunch breaks.
(X-posted to watchmenfic.)
Byron only attended the meeting out of duty. He felt that he should observe it. He had already said his piece, and there was nothing he could do to change their decision, so the least that he could do was watch. He would not turn away from this. At least the scotch had taken the edge off things and made him feel more like himself.
He stood in the corner, arms crossed, trying to ignore the tic that was beginning to develop under his left eye. In the middle of the room, at the conference table, sat Laurence, Nelson, H.J., Hollis, Bill and Sailly. They were all sitting on the same side, in a neat little row with Larry at the center.
Ursula sat opposite them.
The Comedian was the only other person who wasn't seated; he was leaning against the wall, bottle in one hand, shot glass in the other. Byron wondered why he bothered with the glass. The kid (and Byron would forever think of him as 'the kid', as he swore that the Comedian had the emotional maturity of a particularly mean-spirited twelve year old) had a detached, almost bored expression.
"I think you know why we've called this meeting," Laurence said to Ursula, and shuffled the papers in front of him.
Ursula didn't answer. The look in her eyes could have peeled a diamond. Nelson coughed. Sally examined her nails. Laurence and H.J. just stared straight ahead, resolute. Hollis just had a blank expression on his face, as if he knew that he was out of his depth on this one and, by god, he was going to sit there quietly and hope that Ursula would forget he was there. Bill just looked like a kicked puppy.
"We've been very concerned by your conduct over the past few years, Ursula," Laurence said. "And I'm saddened that things have reached this point. So, in light of your recent behaviour, I am officially asking on behalf of the Minutemen that you resign from the group."
"I see," said Ursula and - despite everything - Byron had a twisted sort of sympathy for Laurence. Byron frequently found Ursula intimidating, and he was supposed to be on her side. The problem with Ursula was too clever for her own good, and she knew it. And she wanted everyone else to know it, as well. Still, he'd always admired her confidence. With some of the Minutemen, you got the impression that their masked identities were who they wanted to be. With Ursula, you got the impression that the Silhouette was who she really was, only moreso.
When she glanced over to look at him, he felt thoroughly disgusted with himself. "I tried," he told her. "I was out-voted."
"I'll bet. I imagine that it was a landslide." Ursula tapped the ash off her cigarette and replaced the holder in her mouth, chewing on the stem for a moment. "I can't say I'm surprised. It would be nice, though, if Nelson could look me in the eye. I can tolerate hypocrites - I don't have to like them, but I can tolerate them. Cowards, not so much."
Nelson glanced up, albeit briefly. "Ursula - what were you thinking? We don't... have such a problem with what you do behind closed doors. However, when you choose to flaunt it in public, you know that it'll reflect upon the rest of us as a group, and that's just selfish. We can't afford that sort of attention."
"Yeah," Laurence chimed in, removing his glasses and sighing. "I'm going to speak candidly for a moment: Jesus, are you nuts, Ursula? You've always been audacious, but now you've pushed it too far. We've been so careful about publicity, and you go and throw it all back in our faces. You're going to bring a whole heap of trouble down on yourself. We don't want anything to do with that. It's not cowardice, it's common sense - my patience has its limits, and it's obvious that you're never going to compromise. This just isn't working out."
"I thought this group was about standing up for what we believe in," Ursula said. "About not being afraid any more."
"She's right," said Byron.
H.J. spoke up. "Byron," he said. "You're naive."
It was the same sort of tone that people used when they said, 'Byron, you're drunk,' and Byron always wanted to reply, 'maybe, but I'm still right'. He didn't, though. Instead, he rubbed at his eye in the hope of making the tic go away.
Ursula gave him a thin smile. "Thank you, Byron." She looked to Hollis, Sally and Bill. "Well. Do you have anything to say?"
"Oh great, don't pick on me," Sally said, sullenly. "I agree with Laurence."
"You would," Ursula replied, and fixed her gaze on Hollis, who was making a valiant effort to look stoic, and so far failing miserably. "Well?"
"I, er, didn't feel qualified to vote," he said. "So I didn't."
"Oh, Hollis. You know that's even worse, right?" Ursula's face was beginning to show her disappointment. Byron had thought she'd be angry. It would have been better if she'd been angry. "I know that you voted me out, Bill. I imagine that Laurence made a pretty good argument."
Bill had the decency to meet her eyes. "I'm sorry it's come to this," he said.
"So am I." Ursula inhaled her cigarette, then breathed out a long sigh of smoke in the direction of Hooded Justice. "Am I the only one here who finds it cute that he's a complete psychopath with a reputation for permanently maiming people, and he's still tolerated? But I kiss another woman, and I'm fired?"
Hooded Justice bristled, and Byron saw him briefly glance to Nelson.
"You're over-simplifying it, and you know it," Nelson said. "And Hooded Justice's past indiscretions are a completely different can of worms. They're not relevant to the matter at hand."
Ursula shrugged, and regarded him sharply. "Perhaps I just kissed the wrong person. I thought that there were worse things out there than lesbianism."
Nelson just looked as if she'd said a dirty word. It made Byron want to kick him.
Laurence quickly interjected; "We've been patient with you. Really, we've tried, and we've overlooked so many things, and we all make the effort to tolerate each other's foibles... But the press isn't going to be so forgiving. Not anymore. And if the press is giving us a hard time, it's just going to make it harder to do public good." He paused, tried to return her stare, then gave up. "Jesus, Ursula, stop looking at me like that. I don't have to like it, but I have to look out for the group's interests. I have to make these decisions as a manager."
"Fuck you, Larry," Ursula said, quietly, and stood up from her seat. She strode to the door, posture perfect, heels clocking sharply against the wooden floor. The last thing that she ever said to them was, "Enjoy your Boys' Club."
Byron knew that the contents of her office would already be waiting for her in cardboard boxes. The group waited in the conference room, to give her time to collect her personal items and leave the building.
"Never liked the rug-munching bitch anyway," said the Comedian, and Byron noted that no-one told him to shut up.