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 Posted: Mon Mar 28, 2011 1:22 pm
The pain in his fingers was dull, but the tips were turning a strange discolored purple. He’d been watching his broken fingers change colors for some time, and now he wondered if they would die off and rot. There was still heat there, pain, and while he wished it wasn’t there, the fact he could still feel a few meant he still had feeling in them. One or two others…he did not. Supervised, he wasn’t even left alone to talk himself into some semblance of bravery and courage, and he stared at the discolored tips of his fingers and thought to himself, replaying Gunn’s visit in his mind.
This would not be the last he saw of her, and he wondered who else would come demanding Bismuthite’s real name. How the hell did a fresh lieutenant make enemies this quickly? If he wasn’t receiving punishment for it, he would have been proud of the cocky b*****d, but he instead felt pain at the idea of Billy. He hoped he was safe, having last seen him before the world turned into fog and black and he woke up here.
Some time ago….
Creasing his brow stung as he looked at the corners of his limited vision at a mat of black that had once been his hair. It had always been messy, but now it was a burnt cluster against his head. His ear felt hot, and he wondered how had off he looked. How much would he loose here or…would it be everything? He had only just recovered over losing his eye, but now there was easy access to valuable limbs. One eye gone. Fingers broken. Burned. If he lived, would it be limping or would he never leave this cell at all?
How did they get here? They had power, backup, unity. He never thought they would be captured. That he would be locked up this way. It was too real and unreal at the same time, and if there wasn’t the hot pains flashing against his body, he would have found it easy to deny it.
There was no denying this, and his heart was hammering as he looked about, thinking of ways to escape. Chained to a chair. Guarded. Was there anything in movies he learned that could help him out now? Not really. This wasn’t the movies and it had never been a genre he had been very fond of.
His body jerked when he heard laughing floating down the hallway, and turned to let his ear hear….who was that? Was that…..Tanzanite?! He rarely heard her laugh though so he wasn’t sure. She was something to be laughing at a time and place like this, but that was Tanzanite. Always the prime example of the best of the best. She was what he should be acting like, but laughing? All he felt like doing was curling in and trying not to cry at the idea of never using his hand again or being trapped here forever or how he failed them all.
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Posted: Mon Mar 28, 2011 1:43 pm
Sailor Requiem was beyond livid. She was outraged, offended, disappointed, confused, and out of control. She had been looking forward for weeks to claiming revenge upon General Tanzanite, but the results of their most recent encounter had been an absolute fury-evoking disappointment. She had tried her best to torture the Negaverse General and force answers out of her - some sense of reason or justifcation for her actions. Justifications for why the General was fighting this war, why she tortured the innocent Gellner family, why she turned the innocent Devorah Gellner into the rage-filled Senshi she had become.
But she got no answers. Instead, she was laughed at. She was mocked. She was humiliated. In her disillusioned attempt at redemption, her attempt to seek total revenge, she tried to kill the c**t, but the young cadet was stopped by Super Sailor Ares. Her revenge had gone unfulfilled. In what she had dreamt to be her moment of crowning glory, her epitomizing moment of strength, she had left feeling weaker and punier than before.
And that was not something she could allow.
Coming straight from her encounter with Tanzanite, Requiem barged into the room of the closest hostage - Captain Wolframrite. He looked so tiny in his chair, much smaller than Tanzanite - and was that an eye patch? A little blind boy? Requiem smiled darkly. He was a little bug, and she was going to crush him.
Requiem stormed towards her prey and rose her foot and slammed it down onto the tiny Captain's crotch, applying pressure of her body weight to his junk. She leaned forward, increasing the pressure, as she moved the eye patch covering his prosthetic eye and moved it over to his real eye, effectively blindfolding him. She moved her face close into his, her grin increasing in size, and spat on his face.
She then leaned back a bit, still applying pressure to his crotch, as she swung a strong fist that collided with his face. And then another, and another, and another for over a dozen punches. She smacked her arm down against his clavicle, a strong hit at the base of his neck and shoulders, with full force and then wrapped her tiny hands around his little neck, applying pressure to choke him. With her other fist, she punched him in the stomach.
And she got so much joy.
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Posted: Mon Mar 28, 2011 1:44 pm
He expected an introduction, a reason, a bit of small talk when the other senshi entered. The clack of determined heels meant business and he looked up the bolted door was unlocked. Instinct told him to lean back in his chair, preparing himself. This time, it wasn’t Gunn for another round to figure out a name. It wasn’t anyone he knew before. Maybe a vague, passing glance on the battlefield, but he didn’t know Requiem personally. What he did know was that her expression was that of seething rage, and he tensed as she glared at him.
There were no introductions. No reason given for why she was here or toying small talk as she moved around and played with miscellaneous objects. Requiem came in and stomped right between his legs, and he gasped and cried out, curling in as he curled his legs up, tremendous pain shooting up from one of the most tender areas. Any thought other than fragmented swears and cries didn’t exist, and he curled in as she continued to press down, hoping to smash him like a grape.
Already blinded by white, hot pain, she moved in and moved his eye patch over, parts of it still charred from Gunn’s playtime with fire, and took his entire world into complete darkness. There was no warning which direction he would feel pain next, and he felt something hot and wet on his face. Spit no doubt, and he felt a wave of disgust before he was hit. Hit again. Hit again after that. Before he could catch up to think or react to the first and second, he felt another blow, and stars and fuzzy dots of discolored light flew through the blank, dark canvas that now made his sight.
“Sto-…” he cried, helplessly in a small voice as he felt blood from his cut cheek and mouth. Again a hit, and he bit the tip of his tongue, before he felt a blow to his chest, causing him to gasp, wind taken right out as he coughed and wheezed to find air. Requiem didn’t wait. She gripped his slender neck, pressing fingerprints into his skin and crescents into the flesh. Even as she held him throat, he managed a strangled scream as she punched him in the gut, forcing out what little air he still had left.
His legs kicked as he tried to back away from her, escape her hand, and jerked to breath. Primal panic to stay alive, to take in essential oxygen, and to get away from a clear threat. A threat he couldn’t see or fight against. Why was she here? Why was she hitting him? What was her reason for having this much rage against him, he did not know. She was intent on hurting him, and he was afraid of just how far she wanted to go and how far everyone else would let her.
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Posted: Mon Mar 28, 2011 1:45 pm
Requiem slammed her fist across his face again, and again, and again. But then, looking down the at the tiny, battered, blindfolded boy, she felt a feeling she had been trying to store away since the plans for kidnapping the Negaverse were set into motion. She felt sympathy. Sympathy for the tiny little devil whose neck was in her hands.
He was bleeding, undoubtedly afraid. She creating fear, just like Tanzanite and the Negaverse. Is this what she had become? Had she wanted to seek justice so badly that she started to take a path towards evil? Had she become so obsessed with feeling superior to something that she allowed herself to maim a tiny blinded boy? She loosened her grip on Wolframrite and removed her foot from pressing on his body, taking a step back from her victim.
Her bottom lip was trembling with doubt, worry, guilt and mental exhaustion. Once again, she found herself crying. But this wasn't the same crying as her tears of distraught fury, the same crying she found around Tanzanite. No, this was the cries of a little girl who wanted comfort, to be held in someone's arms and be told that everything will be all right. Her tears formed into a full-on fit of crying as she approached her victim once more. She fell to the floor before him, feeling an incredible, immense level of guilt that twisted her stomach into knots.
She reached up and tore the eye patch off his face, flinging it across the room. He didn't deserve to see the world so blindly, he didn't deserve to be unable to see the girl who had inflicted him such pain. Nobody deserved that. Nobody deserved to have question who is responsible for their pain. As her lips trembled, she nearly mouthed the words, 'I'm sorry' but could not bring herself to let the words carry any voice or sound.
She wrapped an arm around his legs, an odd embrace as she cried on his lap: a little girl weeping.
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Posted: Mon Mar 28, 2011 2:03 pm
Stop. Stop. Stop. Please Stop! His head cracked from side to side, and he kicked and jerked for air. Everything around him was making him dizzy, and lights flickered, quick, sharp, across the darkness like a temperamental florescent bulb. Painful. Bright. Assualting. Again. Again. Again. His face felt swollen and hot. His nose cracked, bleeding out, his face growing hot, quick and ready to swell, and he continued worry, again and again, about his other eye. He worried the fake one would receive too much trauma or that his normal one, his still real one, would become ruined. It would pop out of place or rupture and his entire world from this point on would be dark. He’d be useless forever on.
Useless.
His heels clacked on the ground, kicking on the hard stone as he tried to lean his chair back, but her hand held him in place, curling about his Adam’s apple and squeezing as he gasped and gulped for air in dark.
Then it stopped.
As quickly as the assault had come, it stopped. His hand left his neck, and he breathed deep, curling in to cough and wheeze as he tried to gain his breath. Mouth open he felt spit and blood drip out, and he shook from the pain, legs curling in to protect himself as best he could. Fetal position impossible with the chains, but curling nonetheless. Shoulder’s shaking, he jerked back when he felt fingers brush his face, and then tore off his eye patch to throw it out on the floor.
Eyes wide, he looked about the room before grapping her eyes, watching for any sudden movements and wincing with each step she took. A kick next? Another punch – she seemed to favor those? A direct blow to his throat this time? What now?! But while looking for her next attack, he delayed in finally looking up at her face.
She was crying? Tears raced down her face as she shook, and he watched her, eyes wide as if staring at a crazy, wild animal, and when she came to his knees, hugging them, he jerked back, terrified. What was this? What did she want?
He coughed again, curling in and clenched his teeth when the girl holding his legs shifted them and spiked more pain from between his groin. Pain. Pain. Pain. Everything hurt again. His face felt too large now, too hot and broken. Already it was hard to blink. Maybe he really would go blind!
Off. He wanted her off. Away. Gone. Far away from him!
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Posted: Wed Mar 30, 2011 12:43 pm
What in the hell was she doing? She couldn't afford to look weak, crying in the one-eyed boy's lap. What if Ares or any other leader of the BMC saw her? What would they think? Or Nemesis? She couldn't allow that, she couldn't let any of them think she was weak. And she certainly couldn't let any of the prisoners think that.
With that in mind, she sucked up her tears and rose off the ground and looked down at the agent. Unsure, still, how to react to anything in a sensible manner, she slapped him across the face and took a few steps back in horror of her own actions. She felt entirely out of control. Shocked with herself, she turned away and hurried out of the torture chamber, feeling the need for time to herself.
She slammed the door behind her and sank down to the floor, leaning against it with her face buried in her hands. She needed to get the hell out of this place, back to somewhere she can find herself in control once more.
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Posted: Wed Mar 30, 2011 10:05 pm
He was left utterly shocked and too wary, too fearful to decide on an action. The girl was obviously crazy to come in, beat him down and then cry into his lap, and beyond being afraid and being uncomfortable, he was left looking around and keeping his mouth shut, hoping that by not saying anything, she wouldn't go through another mood swing and go back to beating the s**t out of him. If it came to crying or punches, he'd pick crying, but that didn't mean he'd rather just be left alone entirely.
The senshi seemed to meet him in the middle, rising up to leave him, but instead of punching him, slapping him across the face. It was something that he felt made it seem as if he had been the one to force her to break down, had someone trespassed where he didn't belong, when he had done nothing. Whatever the reason, he watched her rush out, tears still dripping down her face and just looking confused. Then the pain in his face reminded him that he had other things to worry about.
Curling in, he spit out blood that was filling his mouth and shook again. If it wasn't as clear as it was now, Wolframite knew for certain that these people were crazy.
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