CN: Alexandre Plans

Alexandre Jutt was originally a minor character in Alice and Finch. She quickly became a favourite of mine, and I have a feeling it’s because she’s a more mild, contemplative, female version of myself. This is weird, as I don’t like basing characters off of real people, especially not myself. But this was all by accident, so what is to be done!

So who is Lex? Alexandre is a supporting character from Alice and Finch. She’s Finch’s older cousin, as their mothers are sisters. Even though both left when their children were young (one voluntary, the other due to various circumstances), Jutt and Finch maintained occasional contact. They never really grew apart though, and so until Alice and Chloe came around, Jutt was his only true friend.

Alexandre “Jutt” Dirge, or Lex, (or the name she hates, Alexa), is a young Riley-Solune. She has all the outward appearance of a Riley, but the height of a Solune. Her eyes are grey, but that isn’t natural, she stumbled across a Methos artifact that slightly modified her brain, and changed her eye colour.

Lex is the first character I’ve made that I’ve given a specific metal illness. Looking at other characters, Dezallldwinn is obviously insane. Joss has a sort of light-on-life, manic mind. Natasha has something like a chronic physical depression, I think. Gwenhime has control issues, as in, she hates it when anyone else controls any part of the world. Yes, Gwenhime wants to take over the world (but she’s getting over it). More on that later, this is about Jutt. Jut is manic-depressive, or bipolar.

Why? Well, I figured if she was a weird copy of myself, I might as well give her my illness too. I also figured that like me, her illness wouldn’t be a big part of her story. Let’s be real, how many narratives give the main character a mental illness and then use it as major plot point? Well, all that I know of. Not Alexandre. She’s been living with it for long enough that it’s just another one of those difficulties she deals with every day. Minor plot point.

I don’t know what to call her story yet, so for now it’s just going to be CN: Alexandre, Codename: Alexandre Dirge.

Alexandre is about Jutt’s capture after her disruption of a large gang system. As punishment, she is no longer allowed her freedom in the gangs, instead she’s become a slave. A rich music producer named Richard Lendeloczyk buys her for his Hannibal house, so that he has a mistress for when he has to stay in the Solune Kingdom. (His regular home is in the Djeb.)

Lex quickly learns that Richard has a temper and abuse issues, but that he’s also a lot weaker than she is. Rich is a businessperson, and Lex has been a gang leader for a few years. Needless to say, she, being physically stronger than him, is able to overpower him, skewing the power dynamic.

She also learns that he is married, and that the wife, Avvarice (who is just as awful as him) doesn’t know that he has a mistress in Hannibal. Of course, Avvarice eventually figures everything out and things get really messy, especially after Richard learns that Lex has fallen in love with one of the musicians under his label. THE YOUNG AND THE RESTLESS, AM I RIGHT?

So, this story should read like a combination of the now cancelled and non-canon Broken Teeth, mixed with elements of Anna Karenina. (But without all the complexity and prose, because I am no master writer.) It will also probably be written and released in a seemingly random order. Not because I’m trying to be clever or artistic, but because I’ll probably have the urge to write some specific scene one day, and just do it. This happens to me a lot, and I’ve been meaning to try writing something out of order and then compiling it together at the end. Maybe this will be that piece.

Daniel Triumph.

Edit: this project has since been dropped.

Alexandre Courtesan(Outline)

All *checks analytics* one or two of you who enjoyed Broken Teeth, rejoice! Our dear Lex is back, and ready to go for a second round. As long as her insane mother doesn’t mess with anything.

This is an outline, prone to changes and revision!

Release Order

  • The Musician
  • Toil
  • The Adoration
  • The Return
  • Fallen, Gloriously
  • The Promise
  • The Admission
  • […]

Chronological Order

Before

  • The Promise
  • The Order
  • The Murder
  • The Vow
  • Temporary Freedom
  • The Report
  • Recapture

The Courtesan

  • The Days Before
  • The Decision
  • Changing Hands
  • The Wife

The Days After

  • Toil
  • The Musician
  • The Adoration
  • The Return
  • Fallen, Gloriously
  • The Admission
  • The Wife, Once More

Hail’s Tempest

  • Fallen Again, Wonderfully
  • The Escaped Musician
  • The Depression
  • The Burning
  • Mercy of God
  • The Wife, Yet Again

The Life of Alexandre Dirge

  • Dedication
  • The Favor
  • Contribution
  • The Genius

6: Crown of Worms

It’s strange what they do to their leaders. What I mean is what they do to their ex-leaders. The fall of a leader outside of death in battle, or a duel for power, is considered to be a shameful thing. Extremely shameful.

And the gangs make a show of it, this shame.

The aftermath of my first glorious tapping into the true power of adrenaline was this. Natasha arrested all of those who survived the combat and actually fought. They assaulted an officer, that’s what she charged them with. Oh, and she’s not a guard any more, she’s the temporary leader of the Solune Agents.

Well, my mother and about sixty percent of the gang got off. There was nothing that could be done. The funny thing is that, as second in command, my mother, Hail, is set to take over from the other leader, the one she captured during the fight.

She’s beaten me to my goal, and she did it while being entirely insane. Natasha offered to get her checked out, but she already has been. There isn’t much we can do. She’s schizophrenic, they think I might develop it too. Whatever. If I do, I wouldn’t mind, mom seems to think it’s a lot of fun. She laughs a lot, right?

That’s not important though.

I watched my mother perform the shaming ceremony, pulling the old leader from the top, from north status to the bottom, west. They’re presented a symbolic crown of worms. I heard originally it was real worms, but right now they mostly use dirt. The leader was sitting on that throne, the same one she was on when I hit her. I watched as my mother, suppressing frantic giggles, strode up to the woman. Hail is a short woman, although average for a Riley.

She put the dirty wooden crown on the old leader’s head. Then, finally, she laughed her lovely laugh, and went on with the speech.

“You know, I didn’t even want to be the leader, but one thing’s for sure,” Hail giggled, “I won’t be as cowardly as you!”

There was some soft cheers from the few people that Hail had managed to befriend.

“Look at that, I’ve become a gang leader just like my older sister! Oh my, the fun we’ll have!”

Hail laughed again, for an absurd amount of time. After a while she ran out of breath, and the laugh became a mixture of inhales, coughs, and more laughter.

I was watching from the back of the room with Natasha, who had stayed to try and catch someone off guard, and to check the legality of this “crown of worms ceremony.” So far my mother hadn’t done anything specifically illegal. Just really rude.

“Does she laugh like she’s mentally ill all the time?” Natasha asked.

“No, but more often than not,” I told her. “At least her laugh is kind on the ears.”

Natasha nodded, “It is quite beautiful. I can understand how she got together with your father.”

“My father…”

Natasha’s gaze snapped to mine. “Who killed your father?”

I stopped. How did she know? I asked her, “How do you know about my father?”

“I’m a studying poet. That’s why I left the guard, to change laws. Your father’s case is still open, he was-”

“I know what happened to him! I know who did it too,” I snarled, “But I won’t be telling you any time soon!”

Natasha, her expressions every glassy, looked only slightly taken aback.

She gazed at my face, studying. She probably figured everything out from my expression using some cop trick or something. Whatever.

“You want to protect whoever killed your father. It must be someone close to you. Perhaps Diesel? Or maybe it was the monster, Alice.”

I felt a ping of rage. Alice was my friend, Natasha was fishing for an answer from me. I gave her nothing. In front of us the crowd roared with laughter. It seemed that Hail had stuck the old leader’s fingers up his own nose. I couldn’t tell you why.

“Listen Alexandre Dirge, I can’t promise anything right now, but once I’m a poet the law will be fair. At least, as fair as I can make it. When that day comes, will you please tell me? Knowing that you have nothing to fear?”

I shook my head, but said, “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Can you tell me who’s torture room that was downstairs?” Natasha mercifully changed the subject.

At that moment, someone else rushed in. It was a really posh looking guy, shoulder-length blonde hair that curled with high-class pride. He wore the same black uniform that Natasha and Mariça did.

He said, “Mariça has detained all of the prisoners.”

“Horith?” Natasha seemed surprised to see him.

“Yes?”

“Are you an Agent?”

“I am now,” He said, “I’m actually your second. I’m training to become the next leader, in three or four years.”

“Wow,” Natasha’s face held genuine shock, “Who’s running the night watch?”

“My old Vice-Captain. His name was… Vines? Vormes? I don’t know, something with a V. Good chap, really committed to the task. I likely could have never showed up to work and he would have kept things running smoothly.” Horith said.

Natasha nodded, “I know him. I’m actually the one that made him your Vice-Captain. Seems very reliable.”

“Yeah, well.” Horith shrugged. “So, about this lot?”

He motioned to the crowd. Everyone was laughing along with Hail, but I couldn’t tell why.

“They haven’t done anything.” Natasha said.

“Okay, so we’re okay here?” Horith said.

“No, I want to talk to Alexandre and her mother.”

“Her mother?”

Natasha pointed to my mother.

“Hail Dirge. I’m curious as to what she’s intending to do with her new power. And maybe I can get information on Diesel Dirge.”

Daniel Triumph.

This is the final entry for Broken Teeth. For those who weren’t interest, which according to my stats was most of you, rejoice! I’ll be working on something else in its place. Those who did like it, fear not! I will be redoing this narrative. From the plans I have right now, it seems like a lot will be different, but many of the characters will remain the same.

Capture

5: Terrific Fatal Mania, Annihilation

The instant I jumped out of the manhole in the mansion’s floor, I kicked off the edge of it, launching myself forward. I ducked into the nearest room and saw them. The Plainkind that had been following me, and a brutish woman. Who was that?

I pointed my sword at her, “Did you kill Mhanuel or was it Dezallldwinn?”

She laughed. I realized that this large hall was lined with members of the gang. I did not care in the slightest. It’s funny how it worked like that. I had become an expert at not caring.

“Another one trying to convince me that I am some sort of criminal?” She laughed again, standing from what appeared to be a throne. “Mariça here has already all but failed that task!”

She was on the the other end of the long hall, I guessed about twenty cubits. I scanned the faces before replying and then noticed that the leader was in the wings. He didn’t want to be found out. This woman would take the fall if anything went wrong.

I grabbed Mariça’s arm, something I instantly questioned doing. Too late now. I moved it so that it was lined up with her eyes and the true leader.

“Alright, miss Plainkind, that’s your man. He’s the real leader.”

Mariça growled, like a cat. Not a large one, just a regular town cat.

“Everyone, you see these two fine ladies?” The real leader said, “You will be paid generously if you can hand me their heads.”

Without thinking, I threw the pickaxe across the room. I wasn’t aware that I was strong enough to do something like that. Probably I wasn’t, but my adrenaline had spiked a long time ago. The axehead hit the burly woman, but not the pick. Just the blunt part where the handle attached. She was instantly knocked unconscious.

At this, to my elation, the room fell upon us. I readied my sword, and Mariça lifted two large black swords.

Mariça moved before me, and immediately cleaved an older woman in half, diagonally from the hip to the opposite shoulder. What in the seven true timelines was that? How could she be so strong? And then she did it again, cutting across someones waist, her weapon continuing as if it hadn’t hit anything and then dismembering the victim’s arm.

I watched the two people, now in four parts, knowing that they would live for another seven or eight seconds. Enough time for their brains to realize how dead the rest of their bodies were.

But Mariça didn’t stop. I counted forty people. twenty on each side, and more poured in from the three windows and from the door.

I sneered, and spat coagulated blood from my mouth. It had coated my teeth, which inhibited the pain a bit.

I ran, treating my sword like a javaline [javaline is not a spelling error] and lanced an oncoming man in the abdomen. Then I turned and stabbed out an eye, removed the weapon, and then cut out someone’s cheek. I hacked an arm, getting more and more excited.

An idea popped into my head, but I knew it wasn’t mine. This was someone else’s thought.

“Why not take control of all that adrenaline energy?” Is what it called.

I nodded to the voice in my head. I focused and pumped more adrenaline into my bloodstream, manually. I could feel a change as I siphoned, allowing just enough into my veins to keep me going. It was a wonderfully numb feeling. The feeling of a true, controlled adrenaline rush.

A few of the men looked at me, surprised. The leader of the gang said, “don’t be scared, she’s just controlling her adrenaline rush like a Metch! It doesn’t matter, all the N’Tariel do it! Just kill her!”

But he was wrong, it did matter. I felt like I was glowing.

I ran forward and lunged. My arm shot forward in half the time it normally took, and after I punctured a ribcage, I pulled it back and hit again. I want to make it clear that I had in no way exceeded my natural capabilities. I was simply at a higher level of control. I wanted to stab, and my muscles completed the action as fast as possible.

I could feel them ache already. This was causing physical damage. I vowed to train with controlled adrenaline, to get my body used to it. I was in love with the numbness. I cut through the room just as fast, although not nearly as destructively, as Mariça.

When I glanced at the windows, I realized that people were now leaving, running away. They also weren’t coming in from the door, but I could tell that there was a different reason for that. It seemed that once Natasha had come upstairs, she had neatly subdued and bound anyone who crossed her path. There was a line of perfectly concious and obedient men kneeling before her, arms bound behind their backs. Huh.

I turned back, cutting into an arm. The fighting had died down now. Mariça had also seen her boss, and was suddenly no longer using lethal techniques. She dropped her swords with a thundering clash (were those things a hundred pounds or something?) and began punching. The act sent people flying into and through walls. I just let go of my sword, leaving it inside some woman’s thigh.

The adrenaline wore off. I wasn’t left tired, not in the slightest, but I knew I would have to rest before I did it again.

I noticed my mother had been one of the people in the crowd. She was holding an arm and laughing. I could tell that I was the reason it was bleeding.

“Oh no.”

I ran to her, “Are you okay?”

“Dear Jutt, how wild you’ve become!”

Her voice was deep, like she had been possessed by a man. I was instantly worried about something else. My mother had never been what people call “stable.” I suspected that’s where my condition came from. I inherited it, like a beautiful and unique curse.

I had not calmed down though. That’s not how this worked. I would stay at this heightened level for weeks, maybe months. You could never tell. I would just have to wait and find out.

“Jutt look!”

I realized for the first time that her arm was around a neck, a head was jutting from under her arm. It was the leader, slumped unconscious.

“Jutt, look! I’m the leader now!”

She giggled. It was a lovely, beautifully insane sound.

Daniel Triumph.

4: Broken Teeth.

The following narrative contains scenes of torture, and a pickaxe penetrating a skull. That may sound like a lot of fun for simulated violence lovers like me, but for the rest of my audience, reader discretion is advised.

It seemed that the assumption that Mhanuel had been replaced was correct. The current leader was a sneering, brown haired man in his late twenties. He waved me off immediately.

“Take her to the basement. She’s the problem of Dez, not me. I don’t really care.”

Before I was hauled away, I saw my mother. She was smiling and looking at the back corner of the room, as if some floating creature was telling her a joke. My mother has some sort of metal issue, perhaps more than one, so for all I knew she might really be conversing with a creature. Either way, she did not notice me. I figured it was better this way.

I wasn’t expecting to be thrown into a manhole, but that’s what happened. The “basement” it turned out was actually a catacomb that had been expanded. I was in what appeared to be a really awful waiting room. I could have done my trick back when I had met the leader. I could have jumped over my bound wrists so that I could actually put up a fight. I might have won too, but I was nervous. I didn’t know this new guy, and I noticed his weapon. It looked like a small dart launcher. I didn’t want to take any chances.

I sat down in a chair next to the only other person in the room. It was a man, he looked dead. His arm was missing, and his bare feet lacked most of the toes, seemingly at random. Sitting down caused my head to swim. I realized just how dehydrated I was. I stared up at the manhole and into the mansion as the two men who had escorted me here closed it on me. We were left in dim torchlight, the walls nothing but jagged stone. I saw a door of iron and decided I should try to get information out of the man beside me. Or at least find out if he was dead or not.

“What’s behind that door?”

The man’s face snapped up from its limped position. He stared at me and said, “No, Jutt… How did you manage to get yourself caught up in here?”

I realized that this was Mhanuel. He was probably ten pounds lighter now that his arm was gone.

I shrugged, “Failed a mission. But I’m not worried.”

“You should be.” He said.

I shrugged again.

In seconds, the metal door swung open with a metallic shriek. A short, hooded man stepped out carrying a disembodied arm. He had the look of madness in his eyes that I had only seen on my mother, and very occasionally in my own reflection. But don’t worry. I’m normal most of the time, I swear.

“Oh, good. I was told by Orion that I would be getting some nice flesh soon. But don’t worry, miss! You won’t be losing any of your digits right away.”

I wasn’t actually sure what to say about this. It’s not often that your torturer talks to you so casually about your impending torture.

He continued, “I’ve just thought a really easy way to work with the teeth! Pulling them out has always been a hassle, but I’ve thought of something much easier I want to test on you!”

He left and then returned, the limb replaced with a pickaxe. Was he going to knock my teeth in one by one with that? Nope, instead he hacked a chunk out of the wall and then refined one of the smaller pieces. He dropped the pickaxe on the ground and strode over to me, shoving the stone into my mouth.

“Oh yes, this should work out just fine. I’ll have to get a contract with some associates to make moulds in the future. That way I can get all the teeth uniformly. For now, we experiment!”

He grabbed my short hair and pulled my through the iron portal. It was another crudely dug room, but much larger. It contained something that I hadn’t even know existed.

“Isn’t it amazing? Look, this is what the southerners call a ‘battery network!’ I’ve tried hitting people with shocks, but it is so boring compared to just severing fingers.” He sighed, but he wasn’t done yet, “No no, I actually use it to power the machine over there.”

He pointed to what looked like one of those foot-powered wheel grinding stones. Instead of a stone, there was a disc of metal with teeth.

“I’m saving that one for someone famous,” He smiled, “Uses up all the batter, and I really don’t like dealing with acid. Like I said, I specialize with sharp things.”

Finally, I said, “So why the teeth and the rock?”

I was surprised with how understandable my words were, considering there was a stone in my mouth.

He answered, “Well, I like to experiment, you must understand.”

I nodded, as if we were long time friends or something.

Then I decided it was time. He wasn’t going to damage me without a fight. I pushed the rock out with my tongue and then jumped, pulling the ropes under my legs. Then I ran at him. He smiled and shoved a wooden club into my stomach. I vomited mucus and bile, the only things in my stomach. He took my bound arms and hooked them onto a peg at a tall table.

“See how this table comes right up to your chin? Isn’t it wonderful!” It was as if I hadn’t just tried to attack him, as if we were still buddies. “Now comes the fun part!”

He placed my chin on the table. My heart started pounding. I kept telling myself that I didn’t need my teeth. I was so close now, my mother was right here! I just had to get free, take out this fool, and then maybe get Mhanuel to help me out. From the corner of my eyes, I could see the torturer, Dezallldwinn I think his name was, rummaging through tools. On the ground in the corner I saw a large jug of water, likely used to wake up people who fainted. Make sure they felt everything.

“I think I’ll just use my hands. Okay, I have two rules. You have to tell me how it feels, and you have to keep your voice down. I hate screaming.”

I didn’t bother trying to look at him. He grabbed my head in one hand, and then lifted it up. I couldn’t see what he was doing behind me, but I assumed that he had balled both fists up over his head. Then, they slammed down, and half my teeth, the top half, shattered. Sharp pains ran up my face into my brain. I probably would have vomited if I had anything left inside me.

Then, before the pain even faded, he pulled me off the table and the peg and thrust my head into what appeared to be a vice specifically designed for heads. He smiled. Not an evil, sinister, or even insane smile. Just a regular smile, like I had just done him a favour and had promised to do another one free of charge. Is that what this was to him?

Just as the first wave of pain began to recede, he put an uppercut into my jawbone, smashing the rest of my teeth. Funny, it wasn’t so bad the second time. Maybe I was getting used to it. I sneered at my new “friend.” I didn’t really care what he thought at this point. Blood poured from my sneer and splashed I the floor, and a couple of tooth chunks slipped out from my lips. My saliva had become tainted with iron and syrup.

“Perfect! And so quiet! We’re going to get along great Alexandre. And I love that expression! So fitting, so wonderful!”

I let the pain wash over me. I didn’t separate myself from it, I just felt it and accepted it. Blood ran down my lip and dripped onto the floor slowly. Then I realized that my hands weren’t hooked into anything.

“So? How is it?”

He stepped forward and pushed my mouth closed, and another flurry of bolts ran through my face, sending pain signals to my brain.

“Fine if you don’t touch it.”

“Interesting! So you’re saying that I can freely cause the subject pain just by touching their broken teeth!”

I stared into Dezallldwinn’s eyes, tried to push the dehydrated dizziness from my mind, and then rushed forward. He hadn’t tightened the head vice, so nothing was holding me back. I thrust both fists into his neck, and he scrambled back, clutching at his throat with surprise. It was as if a friend had suddenly turned on him. I wondered what it was like to be inside his brain.

I spat bright pink blood on his shoes.

“We’re done here, Dez. You’re time is up. I’ve never killed anyone, but I wouldn’t mind starting.”

Dezallldwinn was beyond offended. He drew a long, thin sword with siderings.

He sighed, “I don’t want to hurt you, Alexandre. I really don’t. I want to keep you around as long as you can last, I really do.”

I stepped back and bumped into the vice, and then I stepped to the left and moved back again, edging towards the door. Dez cut at me, but missed. I had the feeling that he wasn’t all that good at armed combat. Or unarmed combat. The presence of the weapon was only really an issue because my hands were still bound. Maybe I could get him to cut the ropes with his sword?

I tried, edging back. It didn’t work, his sword was unbelievably dull. I was more angry than I was scared. This man was so stupid, so weak, but I couldn’t fight him properly!

And I couldn’t close my mouth. It turned out that the pain was worse after the act then during it. My own face was the source of the pain. Could you even fix teeth? No, I might have to get them all pulled out.

I heard the door open behind me. Damn! I must have been too loud, and now the man had backup. I turned and saw that Dezallldwinn was not the one who’s backup had arrived. It was Mhanuel. He was holding the pickaxe by the head and handing it to me.

“Don’t you dare-” Dezallldwinn’s piercing scream was interrupted by a shard of metal piercing his cheekbone and entering his brain.

I didn’t actually hit him that hard, and so the axe didn’t get too deep, but I could tell by his suddenly vacant and mildly surprised gaze that I must have punctured something important.

I let go and the pickaxe clattered to the ground. I stepped back and stared. I might have stared until I passed out. My limbs were shaking, and I fell to the ground, seizuring.

Broken Teeth table of contents.