paradisalogs | (no subject)

Entry tags:

meg masters,
tex

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Who: Meg, Tex, & Omega with an open section for a gruesome discovery to come later
What: Consequences
When: The night of January 14th
Where: Third Floor
Rating: R for violent torture and gruesome death.

Meg was shellshocked. She had been holed up in her room since the night before, journal tightly shut and shoved into a dresser drawer beneath a pile of clothing. Her face was streaked with tears, her slight body shook from fatigue coupled with the consumption of too many various stimulants to put off the inevitable trauma of falling asleep.

The ritual was one of the most horrific things she could remember enduring. It made the aftermath of her first brush with humanity in Paradisa look like a cake walk, and was right on par with Crowley's idea of a good time. Eight hours of pure pain and roughly another day of misery later, and she felt as broken as she had the first day she desperately crawled off the rack in hell.

It was of little comfort that Silva was dead - she wanted him to hurt like she was hurting; though she supposed no mortal possibly could. This was thousands upon thousands of years of regret, piled on top of the shame of getting caught off guard once again. Her now very human mind and sense of morality were focused inward, berating herself for the size of her ego.

How would she face Cas? How would she face anyone? Surely some would think she had gone too far - taking the opportunity to appease the other residents' general distaste for murder was what had gotten her into this mess in the first place. Now she was a murderer here, too, any way you sliced it.

She felt weak, her body aching from the influx of foreign blood and sore on top of that where Silva had struck her multiple times. It was only a matter of time before she nodded off, only to be awoken by her own sobs not a half an hour later after vivid visions of Crowley - still in her head after months of relative happiness here - taunting and as he tortured her.

Meg couldn't take it. She had to get out, go for a walk - something, anything to stay awake. She had no idea what a mistake it would be when she finally rolled herself off the bed and started for the door.

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There was nothing to see, nothing to hear. Unless she could detect minute variances in heat and subtle air redistribution she had no way of knowing the figure cloaked in active camo was even there. Which was exactly how Agent Texas wanted it.

She waited, a good shot, a good kill was always worth the wait; and she was rewarded. The woman came to the door looking tear stained and pathetic. Her shoulder bowed, her chin angled down, her hair and skin mottled and messed. But her torture had just begun, a silent laugh echoed in the confines of an electronic mind and an unseen hand shoved Meg back roughly into her room, the door shutting ominously after.

Edited 2014-01-19 00:10 (UTC)

As a demon, Meg would certainly have noticed some pathetic human construct of stealth. Locked in her meatsuit, her soul restored and her demonic powers diminished to something like a phantom limb, she was weak and vulnerable.

Even at 100%, she would have been no match for the strength of the backwards push, and she was nowhere near that.

Meg hit the floor with a thud and a groan.

"No..."

He was dead. She had killed him. How could this be happening? She looked around frantically, her head spinning, mind reeling. Her voice cracked as she demanded feebly:

"Who's there?"

Edited 2014-01-19 00:18 (UTC)

A voice, filtered and gruffly electronic responded from thin air, thin air disturbingly close to Megs ear.

"The last voice you'll ever hear."

Cold fingers, too wide, too string to be hands closed over Meg's throat, a sweep of an arm sent the rest of the woman to the floor splayed and vulnerable.

There was no sound of breath, no shifting of weight, just the slow and steady force of gloved fingers closing around her through and a distant rasp as though a blade was being drawn from a sheath.

Though she was bruised and broken in every way possible, something sparked within Meg and she began to kick and scream. A strangled cry was all she could manage, though she kept fighting with all the might of her tiny, ineffectual meatsuit.

But it wasn't just a meatsuit, now. It was her. Her entire existence was diminished, wrapped up in blood and flesh and bone. She was nothing but a regular woman, and for all her knowledge of torture and combat, she was at a distinct disadvantage - and she was terrified.

Omega chuckled darkly. This was too easy, but the woman's fear would at least sweeten the deal. And wasn't that the important thing, to enjoy oneself.

"This one is delicate. Don't end things too soon."

A snort to the AI, right. Take her time, make this last. Her thumb slid down enough to allow air and blood flow and keep the woman from being too dulled.

The earlier rasp revealed itself now as a blade, light glinting silver and beautiful off the edge as it was thrust into the floor beside Meg's Head. Invisible until whatever hand that held it chose to release it. Who knows what else was being hidden?

We were paid to do a job and get out. Can't play too long with this. She reminded the AI and bent back to her work.

"You weren't always human, but now that you are you get to enjoy the most human thing this is, fool. Fear."

"Who are you?" She rasped. "What do you want?"

It was true. She was loathe to admit it and fired questions off instead, but she was frightened and confused. The zing of the knife digging into the floor next to her head made her tense even further beneath the grasp of those cold fingers,and Meg struggled harder still.

Fine He snarled. Ultimately she had the final say, as much as he was loath to admit to it.

"You pathetic fool, what do you think we want?" the second voice was laced with disdain. "Sell you some encyclopedias? Maybe spend a little quality time getting to know each other?"

The camouflage shimmered and melted away, revealing the jet black armored figure. Meg's face reflected back to her in the helmets emotionless golden visor.

"You know what... Let's get to know each other." Omega couldn't help but laugh, a deep rolling sound of pure malice.

Edited 2014-01-19 01:43 (UTC)

"Omega!" She hissed when the camo dropped and she was suddenly revealed looming over the woman. Tex made a grab for the knife and jerked it out of the floor, it spun into a straight grip on her free hand.

"The job was we get in, kill her and get out. Your embellishing." The gravely electronic voice snarled to the AI before the attention of that reflective visor was turned back to Meg. Her own wide eyes peered back at her form the curved distortion of the gilded faceplate.

"Then again, it's not like we need to rush is it?" The knife tip drew a thin line down Megs cheek, first welling a deep red and then spilling a sheet of crimson down to her hairline. "Red really is your color."

Meg struggled and huffed against the strong hand, too breathless and frozen in fear to think up a decent comeback.

When the camo disappeared, her eyes widened and a gasp escaped her.

"Tex?! Why..."

She stared up at her own reflection in the gold visor, confused.

"Who's Omega? What the hell do you want?" she hissed.

At the talk of getting in, killing her, and getting out, Meg began struggling again, and the remark about getting paid clicked.

"Silva sent you, didn't he? Tex, he's dead. You can st-"

When the knife sliced at her face, she was cut off in a strangled cry followed by a pathetic whimper she didn't even recognize as her own.

"St-stop. Please."

Edited 2014-01-19 02:41 (UTC)

She chuckled darkly, "He's sort of my broker." Omega accepted the job, he had been excited to stretch his legs again by proxy. They were together again and they were damn near unstoppable.

Tex leaned back and used the dripping red point of the knife to gesture, entirely too close to Meg's left eye. "Why, people always ask why. Well when they live long enough they do. I could say it's business and that it's not personal, but you know what Meg?" She leaned down low, voice soft as a whisper. "It's because deep down, we like it."

Texas eased back slowly, laughter bubbling up and setting to work covering more of the woman's skin in sliced lines.

The AI flickered into existence over her shoulder, like a twisted version of of the angel/demon cliche.

"Yes, do it." He almost purrs. "But save me her eyes."

"Look," she pleaded, "I get it, I reall do, but I'm begging you, you're making a mistake. You don't wanna do this. What's wrong with--"

Her voice cut off again, giving way to desperate screams, and fresh tears streamed down Meg's cheeks, mingling with the blood there. The hopeless plea echoing in her mind slipped out between slices of the knife into her flesh, a quietly choked sob.

"Cas... help..."

"It's not a mistake, it's a job, and I am a professional." Leaving a job half done was a fast way to a bad rep in the merc market. Freelancing was all about completion of the mission, hadn't the Director always said that? It was never over until the objective was fulfilled.

That memory caused a brief flicker of stillness, it was just a fraction of a moment but it was there. A discord between thought and action while that recollection passed through the filters of her mind. The Director, she wasn't part of the program anymore.

Omega turned to Tex. Forget the fucking program. We still have a job to do! He pinged her, massaging the code that formed who she was and enhancing the parts that controlled aggression and enjoyment. I want us to have fun together.

"Fuck the bitch, she earned this."

"It is a mistake, and it doesn't concern you. What would Church say? Tucker? Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

Her sobs were coming between desperate gasps now, and a particularly hard one came upon the realalization that the projection of this Omega was right - she had brought this on herself.

Maybe dying - finally, really dying - was better than bringing more suffering down on the people here. On Cas.

Meg knew a losing battle when she saw one. She just wasn't accustomed to being on this side of things, and what little fight she had left in her was dissipating quickly.

Her eyes slid to the side, focused idly on the window. Perhaps if she gave up, Tex would just finish her precious job.

Tucker? Yeah..well he had become her idiot back in the Gulch, all the Blues had. But the other name, that was going to strike deeper.

"Church." They were broken up sure but, they were always going through ups and downs. They had never had stability in their relationship. What would he say about this?

"Shut up, I need to think." She growled and struck a hard back hand across Meg's temple. She just needed to shut the woman up until she could get her thoughts straight. Then she could finish this.

"No!" Omega growled. "Who cares what that fool thinks!"

He raged and fumed. "God damn it you bitch don't fuck this up!"

Before Meg could open her mouth to press further, the blow to her temple blacked out her vision and she instinctually curled onto her side, as much as she could with the strong grip on her throat. She shook with silent sobs now, and her head throbbed mercilessly.

It was hopeless. Meg, of all people, knew possession when she saw it. Omega was strong, and if the Tex she knew about was in there, she was lost.

There had been moments during her time with Crowley when Meg wished she could have ceased to exist, but now that it was actually an option, she wanted it more than ever. She wondered idly if she'd go back to hell, or if perhaps she had oblivion to look forward to.

Though her eyes were squeezed shut tightly, tears still flowed freely as she thought of Castiel; she imagined what could have been. The dark realization dawned on her that it was never meant to be.

She didn't deserve it. It was better this way.

A low growl and Texas felt the influence of the AI as he tripped the code that held her actions in check and moderation. He was her aggression amplified, her contempt for everything that was not the team of Omega and Tex and more so for everything that impeded them.

Her resolved, with the push from Omega, was set. This was just another job, and she'd already been paid. So time to just get on with it.

"What do you think. Omega? White meat?" The knife moved down to Meg's abdomen. "Or dark?" It moved again and sank deep in the flesh of her right thigh.

Yes, that's better. You don't need anyone else. You don't need anything but me. He rumbled, pleased with his handy work.

"We've made her cry" The AI's voice oozed faux concern and then devolved back into that evil mocking laughter. "Oh, the sweet, sweet sounds of suffering."

Meg cried out in pain - real, mortal, agonizing pain that rivaled even the storm raging inside her mind as the knife ripped through her leg.

It was dark to begin with, but her warped view of her own suffering in the gilded visor blurred and began to fade around the edges, and she was vaguely aware of far too much blood soaking the right leg of her jeans far too quickly.

Edited 2014-01-24 01:13 (UTC)

"She's fading." The altered voice growled and a hard palm slapped across her cheek to bring her back.

"We're not done yet. The contract was clear in terms of suffering and pain, but more fuzzy about how soon you died."

The back of one gloved hand softly, almost lovingly trailed up one arm and laid over Meg's forearm, light pressure there until the woman showed signs of rejoining the party, that's when the pressure that could be applied by a half ton robotic suit came down on a two inch section of her Radius, the bone snapped like a dry twig.

"Son of a Bitch! I told you she was delicate!" Omega snarled.

The scream that escaped her now echoed through the room that seemed too big, too empty, too far from any kind of help. Meg felt well and truly alone as she sobbed in pain. It was too much and she was too broken to maintain any pretense that she could hold herown here.

Darkness pushed at the edges of her consciousness and Meg silently prayed to be taken.

There was a series of snapping after that, bones broken in a systematic efficiency. Arms, legs, a single finger snapped a rib and worked up through more of them. She could have killed her clean and easy without even having to be near her, the sniper rifle would have allowed her to take a shot from anywhere.

But Omega liked things personal, just like on Sidewinder, he enjoyed the hands on approach, and oh how they were using that now. But there wouldn't be much more time before someone came along, she checked her internal readings and determined they might have another five minutes before things entered into an unacceptable risk margin.

"Any requests?" It wasn't to Meg, it was to Omega, she was giving him the chance to decide how this would end.

Each snap, each sob brings a moment of satisfaction to the AI. It's as close to true joy as he can feel.

"I want to watch her go... see the life fade from her eyes. I want the last thing she'll ever see to be us."

He didn't usually get the luxury of savoring the last moments of his victims. It would a rare treat.

And fading her vision was, blurring more, her newly limited perceptive capabiities diminishing by the second.

Meg's mind reels, but thoughts become hard to form. The one constant is fear. Fear that if she dies in Paradisa, she'll end up right back where she was. At Crowley's mercy. In actual, literal hell. The snap of her bones and the drag of the blade through her flesh are agonizingly painful, but they're nothing compared to what she fears might be coming for her next.

Soon, even the fear begins to fade. She can't feel much of anything anymore, can't even focus on the happy memories she never thought she'd have. The last coherent thought she has is of blue eyes, though she can't quite recall why they're so important.

The woman was already bleeding out, she'd be gone in a matter of minutes on her own, but Omega would want more. He'd said as much and she obliged him.

Tex closed a hand over Meg's throat, the artery and airway both constricted in a mechanical press of grip. It wouldn't take long, had Meg been in top form it would only take three minutes, in her condition it would be less than one.

Tex leaned lower over her, the golden reflection of the face plate showing the woman her last unflattering moments and the fear and pain that etched in her face.

It was there! That last twitching spasm of self preservation, the body's attempt, no matter how in vain, to save itself.The blood flooded a little thicker and faster as a frantic heart struggled and then stilled. The tension in the body giving way to yielding softness. She had a boneless sort of relaxation and then the light in her eyes dimmed, the fragile thing that humans called life was extinguished.

"We can't move her, and there will be questions. We'll need to divert them." She spoke out loud as she thought to herself and to Omega.

Those last few seconds of struggle, the bodies last desperate, pathetic play to stave off oblivion were endlessly beautiful to Omega. No matter how broken and accepting of death they were the urge to live surged in that moment... only to fade into slack nothingness.

What was once a living thing became little more than an object.

"A patsy." he rumbled and blinked back out of sight. Some fool to put the blame on.

When all was said and done, Meg's broken body lay pale and cold, bleeding out beyond repair. The girl from Sheboygan who wanted to be an actress had indeed landed quite the role - though demonic possession was likely not what she had in mind when she had moved to the city of angels.

She, of course, had been gone for some time - likely before ever getting a chance to see the evil entity inside her begin to learn, to grow. The perpetual survivor, the twisted spirit caught somewhere between corruption and redemption. The rogue servant of hell forever changed by a fallen soldier of heaven. The immortal soul so briefly "cured" and confined to her fragile mortal vessel. Still a proven killer, murdered swiftly in turn.

Most that knew her would say that it had been a long time coming. She would fight tooth and nail to prove them wrong, if only given the chance.

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God sorry so late vacation ran away from me haha

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OPEN | Later that night