|Enigma ~The Riddler's Daughter (i_riddle) wrote in we_coexist,|
@ 2012-10-21 23:41:00
|Entry tags:||christian, enigma|
Bloody Desires (open)
(A day after this)
WARNING: mentions of blood, death and drug use.
Enigma leaned on her cane, smiling as she kicked the woman at her feet, leaning over the edge of the roof, watching her tumble head over bound feet to her death, grinning wider as the woman’s head hit the concrete, blood spraying across her face and curly brown hair.
She leaned back, using the cane to support her weight, still annoyed that she was so weak before nodding to the men she had hired for the night, two of them dragging over another bound and gagged woman.
Enigma studied her for a long moment, before shaking her head, dismissing the woman. “Not her,” she said, ignoring the sound of a gunshot as the men shot the woman and tossed her on the ‘discard’ pile.
Enigma and her small crew had spent the night, searching out women that matched Christine’s physical characteristics, dragging them to the roof of this abandoned building and killing them in as many creative ways as they could think of.
So far, Enigma had a pile of five ‘Christine’s’ resting on the street below, and a pile of far more rejects that had some flaw she hadn’t noticed earlier.
She raised her head as the next one was dragged forward and she lifted her cane, pulling it apart to reveal the hidden dagger inside, placing it under the woman’s chin, tilting her head up, inspecting her, before leaning forward and allowing the dagger to slice through the soft flesh of the woman’s jaw, up through her mouth and into her brain.
She kicked the body over the edge, keeping a hold of the dagger so that it slid free of her flesh, wiping it clean on her thigh before returning it to it’s hiding place and resting on the cane again. “That’s enough, shoot the rest,” she ordered, turning away from the room and heading down the stairs, allowing one of the men to assist her as she made her way to the street. She shot the thug after, not wanting it to get around she had been weakened, before she walked around the building, studying the pile of bodies dressed as Violetta, with clothes she had stolen or copied from the opera house, down to the last detail.
She glared at the bodies, and gave one hard, violent kick, watching as the woman rolled over, slamming into a wall. She sighed, the bloodshed doing little to ease her heartache. She stared up at the night sky, licking the blood drops from her lips, reaching up and pulling her mask off, allowing the night breeze to ruffle her hair, cooling off her sweaty body.
She wanted to scream...to destroy more. She wanted Christine herself to bleed.
Shaking her head, she re-tied her mask, pulling her pigtails free as she turned away from the pile of well dressed corpses, starring on the long walk to her ‘lair’ to shower and change clothes before she headed home.
She didn’t care who found the bodies behind her, so long as Christine heard about it.
She yawned as she walked, quickly putting distance between herself and the bodies, before collapsing, the cane sliding from her sweaty palm as she fell. She groaned, dragging herself to the wall, leaning back heavily against it, pulling her mask off again as she tilted her head back, tears streaming down her cheeks from a mixture of frustration and weariness.
A trembling hand reached into her boot and pulling free a syringe, staring at the milky liquid in it, debating with herself whether to trust one of Crane’s concoctions or simply try to drag herself to the lair to sleep. Moving to stand, she fell back again, her body refusing to do as she asked so instead, she set the needle down, pulling a piece of leather from her boot and using it as a tourniquet, grabbing the syringe again and easily finding a vein on her thin arm, before using her teeth to uncap the syringe. She bit down on the cap as she slid the needle into her arm, hissing as she pressed down on the plunger, the drugs burning through her blood as she shot them into her vein.
She pulled the syringe free of her arm and bent the needle, tossing it aside before pulling he leather from her arm, gasping as the burning sensation traveled up her arm and into her chest, praying that she didn’t just help a madman kill her.
She would be his Carmen...even if she had to die for it.