InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "i like the way you work it."

Damien Thorn (ex_bornofaja490) wrote in utr_logs,
@ 2009-03-23 08:01:00

Entry tags:

damien thorn, purifiers plot, shang tsung, stan marsh

Who: Damien Thorn, 359, Stan Marsh, and Shang Tsung
When: After his capture by the purifiers
Where: Cells
What: Torment, abuse, imprisonment
Rating: R

=====

Damien was not very happy lately. He would be alone for a time. Then the guards would come for him, and he'd be lucky if even one of them ended up feeling sick, phobic, or suddenly suicidal. Those occurrences were less and less frequent; it would seem that these Purifiers were beginning to adapt. They had foregone using repeat injections, as there was really no way to tell when the dosage would wear off or not. It would appear that while he had a very strong immune system, he was not too resistant to nature's next best thing: electrical currents. Besides, they seemed to get some perverse joy out of putting tasers or cattle prods to him every time there was even a hint of a glare in his expressions.

There was a man who liked doing experiments. He supposed their enthusiasm was akin to the types of people who went nuts over some celebrity figures. Having the antichrist here, or at least one of them, was intriguing. Which wasn't quite so good on his end of things. It was mostly repetitious at first. Injecting toxins into his veins, pouring poisonous liquids down his mouth, spraying lethal gases near his nose. All those proved futile. Then they went for more physical methods, seeing how much beatings he could take, or how he would heal from various attacks. The shock therapy was not fun at all, however. That seemed to cause pain to him. And they were quite overjoyed once they found that weakness; especially after one of the medical assistants impulsively jumped out the five-story window when she made the mistake of looking into his eyes for so long (which resulted in him being blindfolded from that point on).

This happened several times a day. He'd be returned to his cell to rest, then they'd come back for him several hours later. This had gone on all day. He had begun to lost count of it all. Finally, this last time, he was tossed into the cell, blindfold over his eyes, hands tied by ropes behind his back. They opted for rope after the handcuffs seemed faulty enough to keep unlocking once they put them on him. He heard their cruel laughs after landing on his arse, followed by that very common sound of the bar-doors to his cell closing. He'd gotten used to that sound by now. He cursed under his breath, shaking his head as he struggled with the rope. No use.. they'd tied it good. He wondered if anyone else would be thrown in here with him. Or if there were captives in the other cells near his own. For all he knew, he could be the only one on this floor...

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robyngraves
2009-03-26 10:38 pm UTC (link)

She had ditched the empty weapon and now had the foreign rifle strapped to her back, and her own gun in her hand. More commotion, this time from outside. Maybe some backup. Hopefully with powers. Must be something big anyway, from the reaction of the guards converging on her location. They completely forgot to check the cells, most of them barreled right past her, yelling "Move!" A stroke of luck indeed. She let the whole group rush past before she sprinted the other way down the hall. She took cover behind a corner, and unloaded an entire clip on their retreating backs, felling a fair few of them. That would ease the load for whoever had also come to the rescue. Two turned around to give chase, shooting at her location and the rest continued outside. She dashed down the stairwell buying time enough to reload.

On the landing of the second floor she waited for the guards to catch up, shooting one who tumbled down the stairs to land broken at her feet. The second managed to get a shot off before she killed him too, and the bullet hit her in the left arm.

It hurt, but she wouldn't die. She ripped off a strip of her shirt and spent precious seconds tying it over the bleeding. Looks like it was about time to make her exit. There was enough chaos that she planned on simply waltzing out the front door, more or less. She listened but the thumping of boots wasn't close enough to worry her. She drew her sword and holstered the gun. On the floor near her shoes was still the twisted first body. Such a shame to let all this go to waste. But battles were like that. They made a lot of waste. With a clean chop she severed his dead left hand from his arm and picked it up. It still had a wedding ring on it. This amused her, and she stuffed the hand in her pocket, but not quite all the way, the fingers were poking out.

Time to head down to the ground floor. Hopefully there'd be a nice big lobby full of people to butcher.

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