Knowing You is the Kiss of Death

Summary #1: He was a pig. A filthy, disgusting, repulsive nerd who was probably going to die alone in a pile of thoroughly used tissues. Looking once around his room, she thought herself a masochist for falling for him. Travis/Sylvia

Pairing: Travis/Sylvia, before the Jasper fight.

Disclaimer: No More Heroes is the property of Goichi Suda. I am not profiting off this fic in any way (not counting personal amusement).

After hearing his exclamation of triumph, she laid her cheek onto the pillow and felt like the dirtiest whore alive.

There was no reason to feel that way, right? She had only done her job. She had only kept her promise. He was probably going to be dead in a few hours anyway; all he needed was a little push, and she provided it. It was only business. Only business.

This was the lowest point of her life. Here she was, laying completely naked in a mussled, neglected bed in some smelly motel room owned by a filthy bottomfeeder who was not even a stain of a human being. Worse, she had let him put his dry, coarse hands all over her slender body. She had let him place his dirty mouth against her warm, pink lips. She had let him have her, and she fucking loved it.

It was the best sex she ever had, all thirty minutes of it.

Nothing could describe the simmering shame that ate into her skin, the kind of shame that continued to beat angrily inside of her chest when he finally re-entered the room and silently began to dress. When she observed him pulling his shredded, abused jeans back on, she never thought she could love him anymore then she did in that moment. After three years, they had finally reached through to each other. It wasn't the most beautiful thing to ever happen, but it happened nonetheless. Yet, something undoubtedly kept the two apart. The air. The city. The situation. He didn't even look at her. How could he? Honestly, she couldn't even look at herself now, after the barbaric things she had just done with the city's top killer. He took all action to avoid her, neglect her, and leave her in that dingy, muggy room to fester and die. Door shut. Gone forever.

Perhaps she was just being pessimistic. Travis did care about her. Right? Or maybe, she was just another person in the way. Another obstacle. That's how he saw every other person in his way. What made her any different? Use or be used. Like one of the tissues on his floor.

So what if she was pessimistic? Pessimism was the law of survival in this city. Outside that soft lit, white-walled room was a jungle. Out there, it was dog eat dog, survival of the fittest, kill or be killed. It was the type of environment that she enjoyed. After all, no other woman rose to the top of the UAA as fast as she did. She had lied, betrayed, and murdered her way to a fairly nice executive position. At the age of twenty-seven, that wasn't bad at all.

Sylvia smiled up towards the cracked ceiling, following each little line with her eyes. "He will throw me away when he iz done with me." She gave a weak chuckle. "Stab him in zee back. Hurt him before he hurts you." Yes, she was being pessimistic. After all, Travis killed a barrage of people for his loser friend. She was at least somewhat important to him, at least more than that Bishop guy. If she had been murdered, would he go through that miserable cycle for her? Would he subject himself to all that pain, all that repeated misery, all that senseless violence, for her honor? Why should he? It was obvious she had used him, even from the beginning. She did it for something as menial as money, and she did it with a smile.

"He would because he loves me!" Like an aimless child, Sylvia rocked from side to side, growing fussy in her blanket burrito. "He would do it because he loves me!"

Oh, how pathetic she felt in that moment, rolled in his filthy sheets! What the hell was she doing? She was Sylvia Christel! She wasn't supposed to be some stupid, enamoured schoolgirl! She was supposed to be untouchable, unreachable, shut off from all human interaction. In her heart was a cruel, calculating businesswoman, who only looked out for herself. It had been that way since she was a girl, and she had been fine all the same! She didn't need anyone.

A tear, barely visible, rolled down her cheek and disappeared into the sheets. She hated that tear. That one, single tear.

She had betrayed herself.

For a while, she had it all. She had friends in high places, money that overflowed from the pockets of every gullible assassin, and a damn sexy body. All she had to do was smooth talk her way into the hearts of some of the world's most bloodthirsty criminals, lure them into the killing business, and throw them away when the time called for it. She did it all without any kind of feeling. Remorse? Remorse was a joke.

Yet, when she saw him leave the motel room, she felt that icy heart bend and shatter. For the first time, she regretted her kill. She regretted meeting him in that bar one day, slumped over the counter like some old, divorced bastard. She regretted it, because he was probably never coming back. He was going to go off and die and leave her all alone, just like how she always wanted it to be.

She store into the pale light embedded in his ceiling, letting the bright circle burn holes into her eyes. He was a pig. A filthy, disgusting, repulsive nerd who was probably going to die alone in a pile of thoroughly used tissues. Looking once around his room, she thought herself a masochist for falling for him. He collected toys for fuck's sake. What kind of honest, respectable thirty year old man does that?

Her mind wandered towards the silhouette of the man she had left for this unbearable slob. Was it bad that she fucked his twin brother? Was it horrible that she was now laying in his bed, observing the way his cat stretched and rolled about on the cheap, plastic carpeting? She never felt guilty about two-timing Henry like that. Henry was a damn-good husband, even she couldn't deny that. Of course, he was also a ruthless assassin like his pathetic brother, but that didn't stop him from doing everything in his power to please her. She remembered the times he would set up romantic dinners at the fanciest restaurants, only to have her no-show after making him wait for hours, alone. Despite being a prominent assassin, Henry's income still wasn't enough to satisfy her exquisite tastes. Still, he often surprised her with offerings of everything a lady could ever want. Diamonds. Fine dresses. Trips around the world. Nothing was too good for his Sylvia. He didn't even raise his voice when she started disappearing for days on end, no explanation given. Even after the painful divorce, when she gave birth to a beautiful daughter, he still came back to take care of them.

She left all that for Travis. Travis the slob. Travis the self-centered, pillow-humping, otaku bastard. Travis the serial killer. She didn't regret it one bit. Actually, that would be wrong. She did, more than anyone would ever know. It was, undoubtedly, the worst, most despicable thing she had ever done in her life.

By knowing him, she had promised him an inevitably gruesome death. By seducing him, she had condemned him to die in some strange place instead of his own warm bed. By kissing his lips, she had sentenced him to die.

Knowing her was the kiss of death.

Looking around at the blandness, the pale-faced walls, the miniscule, unfeeling specks of dust that drifted in the fading sunlight, she didn't mind it at all. A dirty person lives in a dirty place, right? A dirty person lives in a dirty place.

She loved the filth.

Author's Note: This is the first fic I have done in years, and to be honest, I'm not quite satisfied with it. This fic is just to get me back into writing. Besides this chapter, all other chapters will be pumped out on the spot. No chapters will be pre-written. Anyway, be free to suggest any pairings you would like to see. Seriously, any pairing. (I'll even write about something stupid like Bishop/Schpeltiger. However, I would prefer character/character pairings.) It can be between any character from both games. Throw in some prompts if you'd like! I work better with prompts, anyway. Until then, I'll just be like a malfunctioning printer and keep pumping out chapters for random pairings.

By the way, some chapters will be AU or some shit like that, mostly because I'm too lazy to think of how many ways an assassin can be brought back to life.