Damien Thorn (ceo_antichrist) wrote in zombielandlogs, @ 2019-07-13 16:38:00 |
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Entry tags: | the omen: damien thorn |
Who: Damien and NPC soldiers
Where: Downtown, then wherever captives are
When: July 10th, shortly after this convo
What: Damien enacts the first part of his plan
Warnings: Language, violence, torture, death, gore, references to attempted child murder
Status: Narrative/Complete
Word Count: 2400
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Damien had a plan. He always had a plan. He was a bit of a calculating mastermind like that, sometimes even his plans have plans. And right now? His main personal priority was to free the captives. Which was interesting consider that's what his divine predecessor claimed to be there for. Now, he knew full well that there were people looking for them. He didn't doubt that the various heroes or their teams were doing what they could in the search, even witches too. Maybe something was blocking them. Either that, or they just hadn't found the right soldier to question. Damien knew for damn sure that he was blocked too. Every time he tried to think on the captives, he was unable to teleport to them. Any other time he would be able.
But it had been a while and still there seemed to be nothing. It wasn't like he wasn't trying either. In the course of raiding, he had been accosted by armed men. In daylight! Either to seize his sword, or to capture him. Which obviously failed. They had died, whether by his own attacks, or mysteriously having a heart attack or brain trauma, or suddenly shooting at each other instead of him, etc. The last man or two had even been in the process of shooting themselves before he stopped them, in spite of them claiming it was "all for him."
A man, even a trained soldier, is still a man. As in, human. Which made this quite simple for Damien. Once catching his gaze, all fight was left, and further eye contact would leave the target in a dazed trance, with the eerie feeling of devotion, a willingness to do anything, even die for him. So questioning him became easy. Not only that but as they talked, as Damien gazed into his eyes, and thus his soul, he was also seeing quite a few secrets as well as hearing them. Nothing was hidden.
Unfortunately, just as he'd agreed with Tate, they didn't know the one thing they all needed, which is where the captured people were held. They could just keep on questioning each Army man until they get the answer. But how long would that take? And what if at the end, they still had nothing? Maybe they needed to find a higher ranked soldier? A lieutenant or colonel? Made sense. And he could use an experienced military man as a minion. But again, they were losing time! He didn't want to wait more. he couldn't. Just the idea of those people. Of Claire, Ash, Tandy, and others. Trapped on a church alter, being forcefully held down, as the dagger is raised to strike-
Daddy, no! Please.. don't, please
Damien shook his head, bringing himself out of that cruel memory. Wait, he was confusing things. It was a table not an alter. Not a dagger but needles or scalpel, and other medical tools. Okay, so maybe he did take this a bit personally. That didn't change the fact that these people needed to be found and set free. So.. as he had told the blond ghost, maybe it was time for a crazy plan. Let himself get caught and taken to them. Seemed the best method now. Shit, this plan was actually making sense! Did that mean he was going insane. In any case, he didn't care. It was his best. And he had actually thought this out. He wasn't actually someone important in the Prison hierarchy.
He wasn't a Council member or even a liaison / consultant. He also wasn't Medical. He was one raider, of which there were so many others on that job list. Losing just one couldn't harm the prison in any way. And he did leave a few clues. One, he had left Lafayette a note in the man's room- "I always have a plan!" And in his own room, he had left his weapons behind, as he wasn't about to let them get confiscated when he was 'captured.' As to the main clue? Taped arrows along the floor, and leading up on the perfectly made bed, pointing to the middle of the blanket. Upon which there was a book about the Trojan War, with an image of a wooden horse depicted on the cover.
As he made his way out in the city, wearing just dark jeans and a black shirt, he could help but feel a sense of nervousness and trepidation. This completely went against what he believed. Letting someone best him. Letting himself be taken, to be tested on, attacked, abused. But it was necessary. It was a small sacrifice in order to save the others. And it hadn't taken long. He had soon found a group of men in a dark van, similar to SWAT type vehicles. "Damn, I want that," he said to himself as he saw it stop, the five men immediately coming out. Breathing tensely, guns raised at the ready. Strange. They almost seemed.. wary? The other various teams, none were left alive. Now these men seemed agitated, he could see fear but also a hatred. And fierce determination, as would be expected among trained military.
He winced as he felt a needle dart in his neck. He felt a euphoric grogginess, light headed. Oh is this what drunk feels like? Sadly, it also cleared up and he stood straight once more. "Ohh, you're gonna need more than that," he laughed, then feeling two more darts, which he pulled out, and of course those effects also wore out. He stared at one man for a few minutes. Then said soldier started clutching his own chest, coughing, then falling down to the pavement, landing on a up-pointed rebar from the sidewalk. Not pretty.
The men started backing up, slipping on small gas masks - which kinda looked cool, and once again Damien was jealous. Then one of them dropped a canister, there was a bang, and huge, thick billows of white smoke rising. Damien paused, staring at them and it. "What's this?" He paused, now as the smoke had risen and obscured everything, and he gasped as if remembering something. "...Oh! Right, okay," and then started to have a coughing fit, slowly sinking down to the ground and laying in a fetal position. As the smoke cleared, they removed masks and picked him up, carrying him into their van and driving off.
They had not seen the smirk on his face as they loaded him in, seated on the indoor bench, with two on his opposite side, and one man sitting across from them. He almost couldn't believe it was this easy, were they actually as stupid as this? Apparently so. Twenty minutes into it, Damien decided to open his eyes as he heard them talking.
"Hey, any of you's guys think this was a bit easy?"
"What do you mean?"
"Just sayin'. Three other units after this guy, all died."
"..Huh, right, and one of those had ten or twelve guys."
"Exactly! And us five do it in flat two minutes? Fishy."
Damien sighed, raising his head and concentrating, his eyes settling on the man across from him. After another minute of talking, the man spoke up, "Will you guys stop that shit? We got him! He's here, threat level red, and we have him. Us, no one else. Bet Renfro's gonna reward us BIG."
Others started agreeing, nodding, glad that they finally nabbed the asshole that took down some of their best drinking buddies. And plus, they had The Beast. See if any of those other units can do that, eh? And so with it being four men that did this, they were mistakenly overconfident. Damien, meanwhile started laughing. And he was laughing a lot. And what he said when they asked him was just so damn amusing? "You're all going to die."
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Damien now found himself in a cell. He could hear others across and in front of him. And it was bright too. And very white. Felt very... clinical. He gave a slightly appreciative nod as he sat down on his bed/ cot. "Well, least it's clean." He was here. At last, he was finally here. After a few hours, he noticed one of the guards or orderlies a few feet away. He waved for them to come over, but oddly, they even stepped back a bit more. So then he started to cough, holding his stomach-- well, that got attention. As they drew close, he stopped and asked, "Hey, Mr.. Brandt, is it?" Said so on the name tag. "Honest truth. Am I hot? Would you say I have nice eyes?"
The other person paused, stammering and looking elsewhere. Anywhere but at Damien. In fact, it was like he had a need to be elsewhere. "Err, can't really say, I don't know-" When prompted to just take a guess, no dice. So he had referenced the topic of their mother and a few barnyard animals, which of course pissed them off and glaring at him, right into Damien's enticing, crafty blue eyes. "Now you listen here, you motherf.. you.. you can't talk about- err.."
Damien just smirked at that, as he held their gaze into a trance, seeing their tense body language become more relaxed. "Good. There we go. Better. Oh, and the 'motherfucker' thing, I actually have.. but that's not important. I need to know who is here. You love me, right? So you can do this?" They told him they didn't know everything, and not everyone is in the same wing, so complicated. "Find out. Discreetly. Keep doing your job, but find their cells when you are able. Claire Bennet, Tandy Bowen, Ash Morganstern, Jill. If anyone manages to discover or become suspicious of this plan, eliminate them. Discreetly. And those names? Give them one simple message. We're coming."
There was a brief nod as they turned away, mumbling, "It will be done, my Lord," going about their common routine. Damien sighed with relief as he seated back down. Well, that was one on his side. Maybe he could find a few more. He chuckled to himself, hoping that Brandt would be able to find them and relay the message, to give hope. And the guard would do it if he found them, just walk up to them in his dazed look, say "We're coming," and then briskly walk away. So far his plan was succeeding. He had to find the others, then the hard part was deciding how to get them away.
But there was one thing he was dreading. The idea of it being his turn to be on a table for an hour, being tested on. The worst trauma of his life, now he was probably going to relive it. And relive it multiple times. But he was hoping that he could delay that. Or at best avoid it altogether? Who knows, maybe he and a few more captives could leave here before then. At least his first plan had been fulfilled perfectly. He'd done it, he had made it. He was here. But that was the easy part. Now the challenge was in making sure the rest of his plans would fall into place.
===================
About several hours later, the four soldiers who had captured Damien Thorn were driving their black van over the streets of Everett once again. Searching, looking for any other 'special' people who were worth grabbing. As they drove, they just couldn't help but laugh and joke around, what with their victory high. Laughing that this guy wasn't as tough as they heard. Which showed how small their minds are, otherwise they'd see that it had actually been too easy, and had possibly even been playing into his plans.
Not realizing that in a technical sense, Thorn was a bomb, a God damned (literally, really) WMD and they had just delivered him to the one place they shouldn't have taken him. Damien found it a bit funny himself, it seemed that some human minds were easy to manipulate, and this was without using powers. Just good old-fashioned deception, psychology, and trickery. Ahhh, Machiavelli would be so proud.
And of course they were also laughing and talking about how full of shit he was about them dying, as hello, they're still here. Until the van started going a bit faster. And faster. And the steering wheel had locked up. But worst of all, the brakes had somehow went out, all the foot stomping didn't do a thing, no pressure, no more brakes. And all the while going faster with each moment.
The men panicked, a couple fearful, frantically trying to steer or stop, even open the doors to jump out.. but oh no, the door locks latched down and became stuck. And now yelling out "Oh my God," and such, yelling out in shock as the van then hopped a curb. The speed making it shift upward on its side, glass breaking, the driver flying through the windshield bleeding and dead. The other three men pushed open the other doors, but were sadly injured and crawling out. The smell of gasoline was present, and the sound of leaking. The engine smoking and catching fire.
But not only that? The commotion caught the attention of a zombie horde! And so, as the undead milled toward the bright flames, the smell of human, surrounding the vehicle and started to feed on the injured men. No amount of screaming or flailing could prevent it, as they yelled out out in anguish even more. There were too many zombies crowded around and they all wanted a taste. After several more minutes, the fire had spread... and there was an enormous white-hot ball of flame as the military van exploded, destroying the men as well as at least ten undead, pieces of each scattered. Such was the force and heat of the blast that it was hard to tell which was which.
And meanwhile, elsewhere in the facility as Damien slept, deep in his subconscious a seven-headed Beast roared, rising up as if from slumber, taking in the carnage. And it smiled..