Piper Addison (makemywayhome) wrote in nevermore_logs, @ 2012-07-24 04:01:00 |
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Entry tags: | pride |
Who: Pride, her minion driver, and an extremely unlucky, soon to be dead, mortal girl
What: Pride finds the skank woman her hubby is having an affair with
When: Late Saturday night
Where: Random motel, then an abandoned building
Warnings: Torture, blood, death, Pride being Pride (Really dark and violent)
Pride had been quietly seething for the last few weeks. When she'd originally found out her husband was cheating, she'd wanted nothing more than to throw him from the window of their penthouse. Then, when Lucifer said he would assist her, she decided to bide her time. The stupid bastard would never know what hit him. The girl, however, was not afforded the same courtesy of waiting, if indeed it could be called that.
It was child's play to break the code on her husband's phone and get the girl's number and the place they were meeting tonight. Some piece of shit motel in Queens. Pride ordered a car, specifying the need for one with a big trunk, and for her usual driver. With a big enough bribe, he'd drive her anywhere, do anything she wanted, and keep his mouth shut about the whole thing. Very useful quality in a minion.
They pulled into the motel parking lot, and Pride got out of the car, scanning the numbers on the doors until she found the correct one. Checking to make sure the collapsable baton she'd grabbed was still tucked into her purse, she knocked on the door.
The woman who answered automatically made Pride curl her lip back in disgust. Sure, she was tall, blonde and tan, but she was just so...common. Cheap looking. Seriously? Her husband was sleeping with this piece of trash?
"Who the fuck are you?" the woman asked, glaring at Pride.
Pride drew herself up to her full height, all 6 feet plus (and that was without the heels she was wearing), looking down her nose at the woman.
"Isabella di Pasquale," she said, the name rolling off her tongue. "I believe you were expecting my husband, yes?"
She could see the blonde's eyes flicker over to her purse, where Pride could see the hilt of a knife protruding, and then to the phone on the bedside table. "Don't get any ideas," she purred. "And I don't advise screaming, either. You'll only make it worse for yourself." She reached into her bag and pulled out the club, fully extending it.
The woman's eyes widened, fear written all over her features. Pride could almost see the instant when she made the decision to rush her, head lowered, intending to knock Pride to the ground and run. She'd only made it about five steps when Pride swung the club. It made a sick cracking sound on the back of the blonde's skull, and she sank into a crumpled heap on the ground. Using two fingers, Pride felt for a pulse. Excellent. Still alive, and she intended to make this last for as long as she could.
She beckoned to the driver, who appeared holding handcuffs and a length of rope. The former he snapped around the unconscious woman's wrists, the latter went around her calves in an extremely intricate series of knots. Pride nodded once in approval and said, "Throw her in the trunk."
They drove to an old warehouse that Pride's husband had purchased. It was scheduled to be demolished next month, but it would serve her purpose quite well in the meantime. There were all kinds of beams criss-crossing the ceiling, and she attached a set of wrist manacles to one, tugging on them with her not inconsiderable strength to make sure they would hold. Then she laid out her tools-a cat o'nine tails with bits of metal attached to the end of each tail, a large and varied assortment of knives, from a small pairing knife all the way up to a machete, duct tape, a taser, a pair of pliers and a bull whip. Only when everything was in place did she instruct the driver to bring her inside. They secured her in the manacles, and she hung there, still unconscious, head lolling. Pride pulled up an abandoned chair and sat down to wait. Now that she had her prey, she was in absolutely no hurry.
About 45 minutes later, the woman started to stir. Slowly at first, like she was still groggy. But then as she became more alert, she started looking around and pulling at the restraints. She started tugging harder as she became more and more alert, eyes widening as she took in the dismal scene surrounding her. Pride let a feral grin curl over her lips, she could practically smell her fear. Lovely.
"Good, you're awake," she said, rising from her chair. "It'd really be a shame if you missed this."
"What...what do you want with me?" the woman asked faintly, licking her lips nervously.
Pride smirked. "You need to be taught a lesson," she said, turning one of the knives over and over in her hand. "The fact that my idiot husband chose you over me-me!-not only boggles me, it burns me. Although rest assured, it won't be just you feeling my wrath"-here the girl let out a whimpering moan-"I'm simply biding my time when it comes to him. My Lord is going to help me be rid of him."
The woman opened her mouth to speak, but all that came out was a faint rasping sound. She licked her lips and tried again. "Your...your Lord?"
Pride leaned in close, lowering her voice. "Between you and me, I call them that because not showing due deference makes them mad-them being Satan and Lucifer, of course-and when they're mad, they can get smite happy."
The woman's eyes grew wider and wider through Pride's explanation. "You're fucking crazy," she said, redoubling her efforts to get away.
"Am I?" Pride asked silkily, letting the other woman see the Hellfire burning in her eyes, normally kept well concealed from mortals. The look of pure terror on the other woman's face was worth it.
"Now that we've established the fact I'm not lying, let's take a moment to enjoy the wonderful irony that a deadly Sin is the honest one in this conversation. Only related to this incident, but still," Pride laughed, setting the knife down and picking up the cat o'nine tales. She made her way around the woman, using one of the smaller knives she'd grabbed to cut off her shirt and bra. She tossed them both aside, surveying the smooth, pale skin with a critical eye. It would mark up nicely. She smiled, then without any warning, drew her arm back, and with a flick of her wrist, brought the barbs down across the woman's back.
She screamed in pain and fear as long gashes appeared in her back, blood welling up from the wounds. Pride bared her teeth in a fierce grin, and brought the whip down again. A second set of gashes crossed over the first, and bloody X's appeared all over the blonde's back. This gave Pride an idea, so she put down the nine tails and picked up a medium-sized knife. Balancing the point on the place where the gashes crossed, she kept it there for a moment, then pushed, down through skin and fat, dragging the blade down.
The women kept screaming and crying, begging Pride to let her go, she swore she wouldn't tell a soul, to please just stop and let her go. And quite frankly, Pride was getting fed up with it. "Shut the fuck up, or I'll cut out your tongue," she said, in a perfectly even voice, like someone commenting on the weather. And she went back to carving.
Once she'd finished, there was a lovely pentagram on the woman's back, with lots of other little lines running through it, the whole thing bleeding rather freely. Pride's hands were coated in blood up to the wrist, but she really didn't care. She set the knife down, and picked up a smaller one, this one wickedly sharp, blade honed to a fine point. She held it like a pen. "Now let me see...how did that verse on the Whore of Babylon go?" she mused aloud.
The woman let out a whimper, and Pride smacked her across the face. "Shut up, I'm thinking," she barked.
"Oh! Right," she said at last. She positioned the knife again, and began to etch the words, "MYSTERY, BABYLON THE GREAT, THE MOTHER OF HARLOTS AND ABOMINATIONS OF THE EARTH" across the woman's collarbone. There wasn't a lot of muscle or fat around there, so Pride was certain it would hurt exquisitely. At last she finished, watching the letters drip blood down her victim's torso. "Beautiful," she breathed, blood dripping from her fingers.
The blonde was on the verge of passing out, head tipped back, body sagging in the manacles. Pride didn't treat her toys very well, and this one was
close to leaving this world. But fuck that, not until she said so. She gave a sharp yank on the woman's hair, the ends of which were stained red, some of them sticking to her back. "Wake up, bitch."
It looked like it took everything out of her to open her eyes, but she still managed it.
"It's time for the grand finale. I'd really hate for you to miss this," she said, Hellfire blazing in her eyes, an evil smile on her face. She picked up the biggest knife she had, yanking on the blonde's hair to tip her head back, exposing her throat. She laid the tip under the mortal's left ear, pricking just slightly. "I'm sure I'll see you in Hell," she whispered. The she drew the blade across the girl's throat in one swift stroke.
Blood poured out, coating the front of her body and Pride's arms, running in little streams towards the drain in the middle of the floor. The girl's head tipped back, the red cut stretching from ear to ear, so deep her spine was visible in places. Pride gestured to her driver, who came over and removed the lifeless body from the manacles.
For a long moment, the Sin stood over her victim. She was streaked with her blood, eyes burning unnaturally bright, waves of adrenaline and glee dancing over her skin. She pulled out her cell phone and snapped a picture of the front and back of the body. Her lords might like to see them.
She gestured to her driver again. "Send in the clean-up crew," she said. He nodded, pulling out his phone and placing the call. "They'll be here in 15 minutes, ma'am," he said, putting the phone away.
Pride nodded once. "Good. Now take me home. Blood gets all sticky when it dries. And I could really use a shower."
He opened the door for her and she slid into the backseat, which had been completely covered with heavy-duty plastic sheeting. No blood on the seats, no one gets suspicious. She pulled a flask of whiskey out of her bag, draining half of it in one pull. Then she settled back into the seat, allowing herself a few moments of gloating about a job well done.
Next target: the soon-to-be-late Mr. di Pasquale.