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*And Hell is reborn...crucified in my chains, my arms spread wide in a dangling sculpture of pure agony, demons settled on inked shoulders biting me with memories of such restraint at the hands of another fiend, coursing panic in shocks through a system hard wired to detest the position, not only for its vulnerability, my weight pulling at my joints, wrenching muscle in the brief moments when I have the energy to thrash in my hanging prison, fighting, torquing in mid air, contorting, striving to reach the manacles, to unhook the bar keeping me spread in this nightmare of a revisited past...how many nights had I once hung in this exact position? Too many to count, and it messes with my head, blurring the canvas of my life to dark watercolours of the past and the shadows of a present, merging, superimposed over the now so my demons dance free around HIS ankles, Draven's...The unknown male concealed behind the black stretch of a full head mask...who the hell knows which is which, they are one and the same playing terror in my head...devoid of the horrors rioting in my mind, my face angers him, no tears fall with the razors dragged down the backs of my thighs, my legs numb, tickling only pins and needles from this constant suspension...like I care...this is child's play to me, he is NOTHING but what my head conjures up...and even though my insides squirm and his touch makes my stomach churn, the mantra in my head is a confused tumble of trying to separate out reality...if nightmares could just stay nightmares, if the past didnt have to creep up with every chance it got...if V was here....there it is. What keeps my face blank, my strength on the outside, a perfect sculpted endurance whilst my soul hides and screams and rails at every touch, my tears on the inside, streaming over my heart...eyes wide open but seeing nothing, blind to the lashes that streak through skin and tear Laea to bloody strips, welted through to ivory bone, gleaming in dim lights, her screams not so silent and as her blood pools, and her body slips into the haven of unconsciousness after a third hour, I can only pray he lets her rest that way a while..but she is his toy, more pleasing with her screams than my forced boredom and as boiling water is poured over her crumpled, collapsed form, my screams are sounding out with hers, a fury shattering glass, and exploding lights, my body reacting on memory to the image flaring bright in front of me, a writhe of sympathetic excruciating agony, that leaves me panting with a pain that is only in my head* Fuck....hey....asshole...*choking on the words...fuck any charade, I just want him away from her...just for a few hours...his glare felt even through the mask, tiny ice crystals lingering in the wake of my rage, gathered on the shiny material, nothing left to the imagination as he...skips...closer...an angry manic dance circling him around my prone form...so fucking sexed up on power he can hardly walk, his cock...or a pencil in his pocket...an obvious ache I would be more than happy to remove for him given the goddamn fucking chance*<<Yes? *sidling up, a glove stripped off so it is skin that meets my bare thigh and not the slick-with-fuck-knows-what latex, fingers walking higher in a demented prance, his body twitching with a high I can only imagine, a sadism far beyond sadistic, entered well into the realms of delusion, when someone wants to be something so bad, the persona they become is an extreme, a distorted view of an idea they cant properly comprehend* Have you come to your senses, stubborn bitch? My slave ready to serve? I have an issue you can attend to>>*Like he's proud of the thing between his thighs...yeah God's fucking gift* Your ego is bigger than your cock, fuckwad, I could never serve someone so puny.
*Maybe not too good to poke the maniac unless you're armed with a red hot poker and you're going all Miller's Tale on his ass...tongue bleeding, fangs punching down to stop the cry sounding up my throat, his fingers shot between my legs in a humiliating grind, palm clamping hard, my entire body retching, gagging, turning my empty stomach inside out as bile burns up my throat, and I desperately will my legs to work, my torso pulling me up, wrists strained to breaking..not the first time his skin sought the cold, uninviting flesh of my sex, his touch inciting no heat, only the fierce helplessness that if he chose to fix my feet to the ground, I will have no hope of dragging my body from his touch...nails rake at my skin his short form barely reaching up high enough to gouge marks into the flesh of my ass as I fight once more to keep his hands from me but I cant hold myself up, sooner or later, I'll be at his level again and his fingers will pry...fuck, V...where are you?*
{Materializing outside the abandoned abattoir on the river and the first thing that hits is the foul, sweaty stench rising up off the Hudson. The old slaughter house shut down when the well-heeled, moneyed types moved into their newly constructed Penthouses and objected to the smell of death upwind of their multi-million dollar balconies. Now this area was run-down to shit, given over to the junkies and crack whores, the seedy underbelly of Caldwell, all boarded up windows and artless graffiti and the tumbleweed detritus of city litter. I sense the Brothers materialize, one by one in attack formation at my back, homicidal vengeance in black leather...resisting the urge to blow the copper lock off its hinges...stealth could mean life or death for Tory...shit...did Tory have that same thought about Laea when she stood at this very door?...Tory was here, I can feel it, sense it, drawn here by my own blood in her veins...my fingers tremble with the residual effects of the drugs in my system and the force of the adrenaline pumping me up to fever pitch, vital seconds ticking by as I pick away at the lock until finally I get that click, the pin turning over gears to release the mechanism and the steel door yawns open onto a dark concrete passage...and then Z steps up with a small bundle in his hands, scarred face grim} <<these were stashed behind the barrels over there, V>>
{Fuck...I know them on sight, on scent, on weight...my fingers closing a white-knuckled grip around the small bundle of steel and leather...Tory's blades...she's never without them, would never willingly disarm...fuck...that little kernel of faith I've been clinging to wavers badly...this may just be the only part of Tory going home tonight...terror clutching lead fingers around my heart...must go fucking on...Tory's daggers tucked inside my leather jacket, resting over the six-chambered heart that threatens to burst with the weight of dread...must face whatever is down that dark corridor of nightmares...steeling my nerve.. back-to-walling it, weapons drawn, we move in synch, an army of ninja shitkickers silently progressing down the passageway of the old butchery. The reek of death growing stronger with every step, dirty brown water dripping off the suspended lines of meat hooks, troughs stained rusty brown with the run-off of blood from countless slaughters...death is everywhere, woven into the very fabric of this accursed building...the nauseating coppery stench of freshly congealed blood and death assaulting my senses as we reach the row of cages, hands flying up to cover mouths and noses, staving off the gagging wretchedness of the mutilated, lifeless female forms inside, some of the scents recognisably human...what fucking chance did they stand with their weak bodies and slow healing?...Phury runs ahead, grappling with the door to one cage, where a faint whimper comes from within, his voice a barely audible, cracked whisper <<got a live one here, V>> but the female's hair is blonde...no good to me...leaving the heroism to my Brothers while I race along cage after filthy cage, frantically seeking any sign of...fuck...long black hair, matted with blood, tumbles through a set of steel bars...Tory?...fuck, my heart leaps in my chest...wanting...not wanting...gloved hand fisting the female's hair to lift an ashen face to mine, lifeless eyes staring out into some middle distance...Oh God...but not Tory's eyes...not my Tory...thumb and forefinger closing the female's inanimate lids for the last time, resting her head back to the floor of the cage with what tenderness I can muster, resuming the macabre search along this corridor of hellish nightmares, casting glances around my Brothers...and shit, Zsadist looks manic, like he's about to go shell-shock, talk about fucking exposure therapy... Phury is working his hero complex, triaging the maimed and wounded from the beyond-hope victims, with Hollywood providing the muscle, the hard set of the male's face rendering him virtually unrecognisable. And Tohrment...Tohr has a haunted look in his eyes as he helps a viciously beaten, red haired female from...Oh shit that's Laea...Tory's friend, the one she came here to help...and she's fucking alive...barely. But the small victory is short lived as my shitkickers carry me into the open area of the abattoir that would once have served as a reception area for the doomed livestock....}
*I'm imagining things surely...built up a dream of, dare I say it, rescue, and now it seems real, so damn real, the scent of blooming dark spices spiralling through the death and fear stenching up the place, mind gone from here, far away from the hand groping below my waist, from the blood that pools where Laea's body had lain before she'd been stuffed away to be played with later...but something tugs me back into the concrete hellhole, bringing my body to stirring life, my eyes seeing once more the reality of this hanging desolation, and as my senses flare out, seeking the source of this awakening, the dark spark of hope rises, my heart kicking against my ribs, my breath suddenly easing, my eyes darting around the room for only one thing guaranteed to bring life to the deathly despair weighing me down in chains of punishing cruelty...V...felt in my soul before my eyes even catch a glimpse of dark hair, powerful warrior form, flashing diamond eyes, but I'm not the only one alerted to the new company, my tormentor whirling faster than a hurricane of insanity to place himself out of any line of fire, his body set solidly behind mine, hands roaming, gliding over ripped skin, floating down into his arms with a whir of cogs and the clink of metal, a pulley system lowering deadened legs to fit feet to the floor in a wobble of pins shooting pain through my shins, agonising trying to stand, as my knees threaten to give and his thin arm clutches at my waist, his head bobbing almost comically behind mine, swerving us, swaying us, making us a bizarre moving target though no weapon has been drawn and all I want is my male to touch me...so close and yet so damn fucking far away...at the other side of this dingy clearing of macabre tools and bloodied equipment, my soul screaming for V, my eyes blazing emerald relief, begging pleading, strung out like a scarecrow of protection in front of a madman, who could break at any minute, could do anything, my limbs coming back online too fucking slowly for my liking...fuck...my anger is paramount, my fear a second closing in on the fury of emotion...fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck...is the only thought broadcasting loud, locking my gaze with V's and praying he has a better plan of escape than I'm coming up with*
{Shitkickers skidding to a dead stop on a fucking dime..paralysed, caught in a tug-of-war between profound relief and abject fucking horror...Tory is alive, thank the fucking Virgin Scribe, but the puny runt son of a bitch has her chained, in his grip...suspended and bleeding...Christ, the growl ripped from my throat is all animal...bastard looks like Havers in a fucking gimp suit, shit would be funny if it wasn't for the grisly massacre and the fact that his small frame makes Tory the perfect fucking shield, fangs punching down on a snarl, right shitkicker taking the first step toward Tory when I spot the flash of steel...Tory...Oh fuck...real slow the male slips that six-inch fucking blade tip to jugular with the sole reason for my existence. Oh God...diamond eyes locked on Tory but the Glock trembles in my hand, I can't trust my aim enough to risk her on a one in a fucking million Hail Mary shot like that...and that's without the morphine putting the shimmy shakes on my trigger finger...then Tohrment clears his throat and my gaze jerks just a few millimeters in his direction, the muzzle of his forty registering in my peripheral vision, trained right on the bastard's temple and my heart stops dead as a fucking stone in my chest cavity} <<I have a clear shot, V>>
*blade at my throat, gun aimed at my head...yeah, I'm feeling the love, the hard face of V's brother trained probably on Gimpy back behind me, but damn it feels as though that bullet would hit me before it even made it to the asshole, emerald eyes anime wide, bright with a fear no amount of blinking or bravado can disguise, rapidly flicking between V and the muzzle of Tohr's gun, my pulse hammering to the sharp tip of that blade, heat welling up and trickling wet down my skin at the panicked twitches riding my body with the gallop of adrenaline in my veins...legs supporting, tingling the circulation of blood through lithe muscle, my weight minutely shifting from a full on lean against his scrawny ass form to my own strength, calculating, making allowances for the spread rigid lock of my arms, a second glance judging, the steady set target aiming the muzzle, the line of fire...fuck no...no way in hell am I entrusting my life to a male who, given the orders, would have me taken out in a heartbeat, my brains painting and decorating the walls instead of his...for a wiry fucker, he was pretty strong, his arousal never letting up, pressing it's pencil length against my ass, my discreet fight to get my legs to play warrior squirming me slightly in the grip of his arms...in a smooth, fluid rotation, my body slips down his, popping my shoulders from their sockets to give me twist in an otherwise crucified position, the blade slicing a thin trail with my movements, smiling blood to my throat as I dip low and snap my knee up with all the force I can muster, rammed between his thighs in a punching brutal assault that kicks back to feminine defense and slams his balls up into his screaming, choked up retching throat, not even bruising the damn things...exploding them, my full body weight hell bent on destroying the only evidence of his manhood in a single crushing blow, the gun and Tohr forgotten, V's presence a growling light at my back, and he's clutching at me in his screaming agony, Gimp fucker in all his glory crumpling to the floor like a wailing creature, pathetic, he can dish it out alright, but a simple move and he's nothing, hurling his cookies all over his latex* Get on your knees, slave...*lip curled in disgust my body weaves towards V's, ignorant of all but him, the pain in my shoulders nothing compared to the aching need to be in his arms again*
{Shit happens so fast, it's a warp speed blur of chaos...Tory makes her move, the male pinwheeling back to crumple against the wall on a screech that would make a fucking Soprano blush, clutching the latex crotch of that gimp suit like he’s fighting to keep his balls attached, I make a lunge towards Tory, hearing a click, diamond eyes trained on Tohr’s squeezing trigger finger, a flash of red hair as Laea makes a move for Tohr’s dagger holster, throwing the Brother’s aim, the shot rings out, deafening, reverberating off the concrete walls and the fucker on the floor takes the slug in the shoulder instead of between the eyes...Laea’s gunning for him, blade clutched in one white-knuckled, bloodied fist, dishevelled hair blazing a crimson halo like some infernal furie...and despite the homicidal vengeance churning in my own blood, instinct draws me to Tory’s slumped form...hands grappling desperately to get her down from the obscene bondage of chains that hold Tory crucified, suspended, and she sags down into my arms, spent and bloody and my heart finally starts beating again and the breath held is released on a ragged exhale}
*for a while my entire concentration is on V, curves collapsed in his arms, shoulders popped back into place, the bar slipped from its spreader, shackles released, the gunshot barely registering through the slightly foggy haze blurring my vision, dulling the sound...and the fallen body of the killer is blazed over by fiery hair, latex ripping, flashes of silver rising and slicing...Laea? Blinking slowly, I can hardly believe what my brain is telling me I'm seeing...a little slash and mutilate of the female fury variety, his suit attacked from the groin up, split to show pasty skin and under-developed muscles...a wash of blood and flesh spattering out with each rise of that blade before her attack falters, her slight form shaking, slumping, the scent of tears raining her distress, and then she's done, her brain shorting out from stress, a protection for her mind, shutting her down and collapsing her back into the quick arms of Tohrment...cant help but admire the female. Damn messy job, all rage, no precision, just...hacking...but the fucker's still alive and fingers coast over V's body seeking his weapons as my own, turning to finish the job even woozy as I am, a slow pounding drum in my head switching the world to a slo-mo movie of dizzy sights and a pain arching low, sharp, deep-penetrating, an excruciating jolting agony running through my lower body, burning in my veins, lazing out my systems with each step...and even with V taking my weight, my body sways, drained, wondering what the hell has me so weak until the scent of my own blood flares*
{Tory is alive and in my arms and I can breathe again, but fuck, when I do my lungs are flooded with the rancid fucking stink of that male all over my mate and it trips a switch somewhere in my feral brain...Z has his SIG trained on the bastard, ready to put him out of his misery, but I rise up to push the Brother away, a quick death too fucking good for this SOB...the mask ripped from his face like it’s an episode of Scooby fucking Doo...the cowering little rat-face fucker exposed, and I am going to de-fang and castrate the little bitch with the rusty pliars on my Swiss Army knife, I’m going to feed that motherfucker his own cock and balls and let him choke while he watches his own fucking evisceration, gouge out his eyes and pour salt in the sockets...the red haze of furious vengeance bleeds through my vision and I’m on the fucker like a savage animal...subsequently, I would have no memory of exactly the atrocities I committed on that male...but it was neither pretty nor glorious and it was an episode that would never again be spoken of, by either the Brotherhood or any of the witnesses present , even in the most hushed whispers...never to be written into the proud history books of the Chosen...emerging from the fugue of my vengeance determined to get Tory out of here, to put my cursed hand to good fucking use and raze this godforsaken hellhole to the ground, to burn it from our collective memories and it was only when my gaze returned to my life, my soul, Tory, did I realize she was slumped back on the filthy concrete floor in a spreading pool of her own crimson lifeblood}
