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 Posted: Fri Apr 08, 2011 8:53 pm
Rescue operations were different in the movies. It was always such a triumphant, inspiring occasion -- with a hopeful shaft of light from the doorway illuminating the captive, a dramatic swell of music pushing the rescuer forward into action. It always culiminated in a flurry of thank-god-you're-heres and thank-god-you're-alives, and formerly dank prisons awash in an atmosphere of victory.
The door was heavy, rusty, dusty. General Zinkenite had to struggle a bit to get the key to turn in the lock, and then it took a couple hearty shoves for it to give. It opened weakly, slowly, undramatically, to a room where inspiration had disappeared from a long time ago.
He would instantly notice that the smell in here was terrible. The air was heady with mold and must, followed closely behind by more familiar notes of sweat and coppery blood... a fresh pool of it was gathered near the legs of a metal folding chair. A small entourage of rats squeaked and scampered away as they heard Zinkenite approaching.
Captain Uranophane sat bound to the chair, worn and battered beyond imagination. Her head didn't move an inch, and her half-lidded gaze stayed fixed on the floor. It seemed as though she hadn't even noticed him entering.
So much for heroism.
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Posted: Fri Apr 08, 2011 9:01 pm
Blood, horrid smells... everything he knew fundamentally accompanied a scene of horror, voided bowls and personal odor, the sent of rats and other putrid substances, he expected -this- far more than he did triumphant fan faire. This... was the mark of his failure to find them sooner. This broken dilapidated doll of flesh that had been Uranophane. WAS Uranophane, such as she remained.
How much remained of what mattered though, was the fighter still there, tough enough in combat but at least clever enough to stay alive. Unfortunate enough though to be caught...
He glanced around for water, something to give her before he risked trying to move her but he was unsure if he trusted anything that might have been left here in the thick haze of what was the ultimate end of humanity.
Yes... anything that resembled human had been left outside that door, those who hurt her like this, there was nothing human about them, not their star seeds, not thier minds... not their morals. "Uranophane..." He called softly, "Can you hear me?" He reached a careful hand trying to find some portion of her that was not one purple-red bruise or worse.
He really didn't want to touch her, it was a horrid admission to make but she was... a ruin. A fithly blood covered dirt smeared ruin.
"It's Zinkenite... we have to go."
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Posted: Sun Apr 10, 2011 5:40 pm
Her body was aching. Her feet were mangled. There were probably sores on her wrists and ankles from the chains and ropes. Uranophane -- or what had been left of her -- took a few seconds to respond, as if Zinkenite's voice were traveling through molasses instead of air. And even then, she moved slowly, her eyes canting upward at the pace of a glacier, her lips parting slightly only for them to close again.
Murky-green eyes tiredly took in the sight of the Negaverse General, only to narrow with an equally tired contempt.
"More games?" she asked.
"I'm not playing."
Then she turned her attention to the ground again, her consciousness in such a dire state that she couldn't even tell the difference between power signatures anymore. Like the two weeks of unspeakable treatment she'd been given that led up to this moment, Uranophane was sure that, somehow, this was just another trick.
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Posted: Sun Apr 10, 2011 5:49 pm
"Neither am I..." He said after a long moments pause. The smell was tickling at the back of his throat, it made him want to gag and worse. THe sight of her feet, the sores around her wrists and ankles weren't helping.
Seing something on a movie screen, or on something from which the life had already passed was somehow less... real than seeing the muscles twitch and things seep from wounds, angry and filthy, that even the darkness could not quite rob of their color. Nothing short of his gas could have robbed them of the smell...
"Do you need me to carry you..." He asked, but he was hardly ready to wait for an answer. She looked like hell... he didn't think they could risk a teleport...not after this, not after this long.
He cast his eyes about for something to undo the locks, it took a few tries to find something that would hold up long enough to move the tumblers, an eternity of fumbling to move them the right way but at last...the heavy padlock clicked in his hand and his shoulders sagged with relief.
Carefully, so carefully he undid the chains trying so hard not to brush his fingers through the open sores.
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Posted: Wed Apr 27, 2011 3:01 pm
The person in front of her wasn't playing either...
No more games...
Was this it? Were they finally finished?
She'd barely registered Zinkenite's next question before the sound and sensation of the chains coming loose around her wrists reached her ears. A strange, strangled noise hit the walls of the room -- of Uranophane's breath staggering and faltering in disbelief -- before she started to test and move her arms. Slowly.
For a while she just stayed there with her arms resting on her knees, staring at her open hands. It was as if she had forgotten what they had looked like... or that she had ever had them at all.
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Posted: Wed Apr 27, 2011 4:39 pm
He watched her for a moment, it was surreal, he had done terrible things in his life...terrible but...necessary things. Somehow it seemed so trivial beside the look on her face, that awful expression that was at once glorious and agonized. "Here..." He said softly... as gentle as he came.
"...I'll carry you... just rest..." it wouldn't be easy, just proportions said as much, but for once in his life he'd be strong enough to do the carrying.
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Posted: Fri May 13, 2011 6:59 pm
It should have been a relief. It should have been ironic, heartwarming. The air tensed up with the words that weren't said -- in an ideal world Uranophane would have offered a twisted little smile. You know, you did owe me a piggyback ride, she would have said. Maybe a little laughter would have broken the doom and gloom, from relief that the ordeal was finally over.
It was over, that was for certain.
But nothing new was in a hurry to take its place.
So the Captain was silent, exhausted, not even caring about how awkward the arrangement was or how Zinkenite's shoulder was digging into her chest. She did as ordered: she rested, and the General was left mostly alone.
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