paradisalogs | (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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"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.