Meg Masters (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
putuporshutup) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
paradisalogs2014-01-18 11:23 am
putuporshutup) wrote in paradisalogs2014-01-18 11:23 am
Entry tags:
(no subject)
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.
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.
no subject
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.
no subject
"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.
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He raged and fumed. "God damn it you bitch don't fuck this up!"
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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.
no subject
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.
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"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."
God sorry so late vacation ran away from me haha
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.
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"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.
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no subject
Darkness pushed at the edges of her consciousness and Meg silently prayed to be taken.
no subject
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.
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"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.
no subject
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.
no subject
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.
no subject
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.