Dramatic Death Scenes!

Peter
"Fine," I said flatly, masking the fear that was creeping in. "It seemed like a good idea. We almost made it. And stop calling me that."
It wasn't like my situation had changed, anyway.
But...
Oh gods.
...This was all my fault!
If...if it hadn't been for me, T.Mor and Cricket wouldn't be in this mess. Now we were all going to die, as opposed to just me being about to die.
I would've kicked myself if I were able.

Cricket
These shackles were sharper than the others had been...damnit, why did I keep thinking stuff like that? And why did they have to come back? It didn't make sense...better one than all of us, aye? That's what I'd been told...I'd had to live by it for half my life, whether I liked it or not. Then why...? Not being able to talk anymore, I stole a glance at T.Not, then Peter. Why...what were they...they could be gone by now.

T.Mor:

"Stop? But why?" Mr.Face grinned. "Often...The best ideas are the ones which are least complicated...For example...You could have simply accepted your fate as a pincushion, and granted Mr.Namechov...or...My Prisoner some sort of reprieve. Admittedly that would have been terribly selfless of you, but...It was an option. Probably a better one than you chose." Mr.Face ranted. "And...unfortunately...all of you seem to have run out of options." He unlooked into his toolbox. "Any volunteers? Oh. I apologise. That would be giving you a choice. Can't have that can we? Since you have so kindly...Forefeited them?" He grinned.
I hoped against hope that there was no acid there...I hated the acid...I hated knowing the extent of the bad things that would come out of that box. I just wanted to curl up and die or something.

"Hmm..." He allowed his fingers to scrape the surface of the water in Peter's tub. "A bit cold in there isn't it...too bad. I could have...fixed that...but...You won't have time to catch hypothermia..." He said with a different, more passive agressive grin. "I am going to wait a bit on the plexiglass though...Would hate for you to miss the show..." He turned toward Cricket. "If you promise not to duplicate the feeling of tinnitis I will allow you to contribute your two sense to this...mess." He informed Cricket.

Peter
"You could have simply accepted your fate as a pincushion, and granted Mr. Namechov...or...My Prisoner some sort of reprieve. Admittedly that would have been terribly selfless of you, but...it was an option."
The words echoed in my head, cutting through me like knives.
"I...I know it's all my fault!" I exclaimed, the defiant front dropped and hysteria leaking into my voice. "You don't have to remind me!"
I was pretty much ready to die right there.
Then he came by to check the water. Was it cold?
"If it's cold, I wouldn't know," I told him, a bitter edge to my voice. "I don't get cold. And it would be physically impossible for me to catch hypothermia anyway."

Cricket
I looked up at Mr. Face, not able to say anything of course. But according to Finn, one could always tell exactly what I was feeling through my eyes...if that was true I would have been burning a hole in his head with them. Of course, I was also confused, and above all, guilt had burrowed into me like a nail through wood. At Peter's outburst it drove in a little more, and my gaze flitted to him in a big fat flurry of it. And I looked back to Mr. Face, who of course...he couldn't see it. I sighed impatiently as a way to acknowledge the question.

T.Mor:

Oh. Poor Peter...The verbal abuse was almost as bad as the torture itself...I mean...The man knew what buttons to push.

"That...That is fascinating..." Mr.Face turned away from Cricket to hear more about Peter. "You are telling me...That I could dump a bucket of hot oil on your head...and you would have no blisters to speak of?" He asked, perplexed...or...entertained. I couldn't really tell. I did not want to see a vat of hot oil being rolled in here. No I did not.

I sat in absolute silence, trying to be ignored. And trying not to think. Thinking would lead to bizarre questions...like 'what about Ana?' or...'I wonder if this will hurt more than x?' X being...well...everything else I'd experienced from the Mr.Face arsenal over the years.

Peter
"That's right," I answered, my voice a monotone. "It wouldn't even feel hot. I don't burn, and I'm never cold. Look, could we just skip to the part where I die already?"

E. Drew just grinned. "Of course." he walked back to the wonderful shelf of tools and came back with a small generator. Instead of putting the prongs on the girl herself, he put them on the metal table. The table would work as a conductor so this would work beautifully. He set up the generator and grinned down to the girl. "Three...two...." he let the anticipation build in her and the real Drew. E. Drew nealt down next to her and whispered in her ear the last number of the countdown. "One."'he sent off 80 volts of energy through the table and warned as it made her twitch.
Drew stopped struggling when he saw the electricity go through her. "No....No..." why did the other him have to dothis to them? Whey did he have to hurt Jay?

Cricket
I didn't like where this was going...I didn't think. Either way I could see the cogs in Mr. Race's mind turning like a bomb ticking closer to mass destruction.

T.Mor:

Oh crap...Erm..."Peter...It's not...don't I mean..." I said incoherently...I got worse under stress. Like...A lot worse. "I...Don't...You...YOU AREN'T AS GUILTY AS YOU THINK..."I managed...of course...that actually made very little sense...but...er...well. Yeah.

This unfortunately prompted Mr.Face to notice me. "My hostage...We will have to postpone that momentarily...In lieu of...Mr.Namechov. I am actually...Shocked to see this kind of...misbehaviour from you...It's...somewhat...sickening actually. I mean, with your relatively new job security and everything...I would think that work precedes all?" He asked me, somehow suddenly holding an exacto knife. Maybe he'd picked it up earlier. I didn't know. I tried to extend an arm for him, I knew the dril by now...But you know...they were kinda taped behind me.

"I'm it...Don't...Here...arms....Duct tape..." WHY WAS I SO INCAPABLE OF FORMING A SENTENCE? God.

"How kind Mr.Namechov...How kind. Allow me to...Assist." He turned me around and cut me loose, quickly rolling up my sleeve. As usual. I knew this routine. I scrunched up my face in anticipation though...as it was not fun.

I watched as Mr.Face...my former employer put four paralell lines into the scarred mess of an arm that was already there. This meant acid. I knew it. I didn't even respond. At all. Completely blank. I deserved this and I knew it.

Peter
Not as guilty as I think?
"I am, though..." I said quietly. "This is all my fault... You and Cricket wouldn't be here if it weren't for me...and without you, Ana will..."
Why did Mr. Face have to be so godsdamn slow? ...Though I guess I deserved nothing less...

Cricket
I looked down again, really wishing I could say something but at the same time having no clue whatsoever how I would form a coherant sentence. I couldn't even get my thoughts straight. Peter blamed himself, T.Not blamed himself, but if it weren't for me they wouldn't be as deep in this mess...Peter wasn't much better off, I had to admit, but at least back in that cell he had something of a choice. T.Mor was out of his job and his life. I was sorry...I should have thought things through. Something I never did. Ever. I couldn't beleive I'd been so stupid...I just felt the metal dig into my wrist. I didn't want to think anymore.

T.Mor:

Well...Ok. Yeah. He kinda was. I had been screaming nonsense, essentially, in an attempt to make Peter feel less...sucky. Not that that would be...erm...possible, necessarily, but. Eh. And he brought up Ana. Oh crap. "DON'T TALK ABOUT THAT!!" I shouted irritatedly.

Mr.Face emptied an entire packet of boric acid into my new knife wounds. Fantastic. I twitched involuntarily, and brought the offending limb to my chest, rocking back and forth in complete silence. "Snatchy snatchy..." I was reprimanded for the sudden move. "And so...sensitive...This sister...How old is she?" Mr.Face asked, pulling my hand back out and calmly poking at the chemical reaction going on there with his exacto knife. I just tried not to vomit.

"Too old for you to care." I told him, sounding like a five year old.

"Shame." He replied, as though it were the weather. He glanced back at Peter. "Can you drown I wonder?" He asked nobody in particular, and releasing my hand. "And we do have to grant My prisoner an opportunity to speak eventually..." He added almost as though he forgot Cricket was in the room.

Peter
I flinched as T.Mor yelled at me.
"I'm...sorry..." I said, sounding incredibly sorry. Miserable. "Yes, I can drown," I told Mr. Face. "And I'd appreciate it if you did that right now..."

Since Kara wanted Nate dead so badly..... transferring most of Freya's info off her original format.


Name: Freya Thorn
Age: 17
Appearance: Short, punk-cut, dark blue (like this colour blue) hair tipped with silver, bright silver eyes, pale skin. Build-wise she's small, slightly pixie like, agile, but deceptively strong
Species: Genetically modified human (oh, and because of said genetic modification, she can move stuff with her mind. Although i dont think i'll have her use this power much...)
Personality: Very violent, very unstable. No remorse, will just as quickly snap your neck as that of the enemy. Doesnt really care much for people, who or what she kills or hurts. She's got some serious mental problems. Her dad was a mass murderer who was given the death sentence, and her mom was a mental patient who committed suicide, and she pretty much grew up in a mental institution. Evidently, she got out. Loves pain, both her own and that of others. Has a thing for knives.
Killer/Victim: Killer.
Particular enemies: None so to speak of. When she gets bored, she just amuses herself by maiming and eventually killing anyone she can find.

And since Sin has to die soon in her original story anyways....

Name: Sin Darkhart
Age: Appears 18, is actually 294
Appearance: Short pixie-cut blue black hair, pale ice blue eyes, pale skin, average height/build.
Species: Vampire. Loves plasma, avoids the sun, wood through the heart (or anywhere else, for that matter...) silver blades/bullets, fire, and decapitation at all costs.
Personality: Cold and calculating, tough-as-nails, a lover of guns, has a rather high pain tolerance.
Killer/Victim: Victim
Particular enemies: Nope.

How do you want to start, Ravyn?

I was wondering that myself. I have no clue. Any suggestions?

I'll just randomly have him walking home lol

With his hands in his pockets, Nathan walked down the sidewalk, his mind wandering from subject to subject. Finally, it landed on Marley, a small smile lifting the corners of his lips.

Freya: I.... was very, very bored. It had been far too long since id killed anyone and i had nothing at all to do. So here i was, wandering around looking for someone to knock out, tie up, and maim for a while. Alas, there werent many people out right now. Which could be good or bad, since if there werent many people, it made it easier to abduct a victim without being noticed, but no people also meant no victims which defeated the purpose of the first point. I sighed. This was a problem. And then, lost in thought about victims and what i would do with one this time, i almost ran into some guy, who was smiling for no apparent reason. Potential victim? Well, he was living, wasnt he? That pretty much meant my standards were met.

Nate reached out to steady the girl he ran into, his smile turning apologetic. "I'm so sorry," he said, laughing slightly. "I guess I need to watch where I'm going more, huh?"

Freya: In response, i sent a large brick from a nearby pile into the back of his head, attempting to knock him unconscious.

Pain exploded in his skull, making him fall forward onto the concrete. He laid there for a few seconds, a warm trickle of blood running down his neck. Wincing, Nate pushed himself up, looking up at the girl, stars and black blotches dancing across his vision. "What...what was..." He winced again, the black blotches spreading.

Freya: I watched, gaze blank and unemotional as the guy was knocked unconcious. I levitated him off the ground in front of me (i doubted id have much luck carrying him), and headed for my apartment, which was really a basement apartment with an unfinished section. There was a concrete floor in the unfinished part, which was where i did any killing (blood is awfully hard to remove from carpets), and since the rest of the building was unused, i was never bothered. Without being touched, the light switch flicked up, the harsh flourescent light over my special table turning on. I settled the guy's body on the table and, seemingly of thier own accord, the steel shackles at each corner of the table rose and clamped shut on the guy's wrists and anles, effectively holding him spread-eagled on the table. The table was metal and had small channels on either side, which blood would drain down into two buckets at the end of the table. I selected a rather large knife and sliced off the guys shirt, exposing bare flesh. How i itched to dig my blade into that flesh.... but he was still unconscious, and it was no fun if they were unconscious. So i walked over to the old fashioned record player in the corner, putting on some old classical music, and began pulling various things off the walls and out of drawers, setting them aside. Various knives, a large saw that was good for sawing through bones, a corkscrew, a screwdriver, a cattle prod, a small lighter, a box of long barbeque matches, a spoon...... various objects i enjoyed using to maim and cause pain. I picked up one of my favourite knives and began sharpening it absently as i waited for my victim to wake up. He was going to wish he hadnt.

Winter Dragon wrote:Peter
I flinched as T.Mor yelled at me.
"I'm...sorry..." I said, sounding incredibly sorry. Miserable. "Yes, I can drown," I told Mr. Face. "And I'd appreciate it if you did that right now..."

T.Mor:

"So HASTY..." Mr.Face commented, pulling the plexiglass onto the tub horizontally, so that it did not cover the whole tub... just to indicate that he was getting to it. Almost a taunt. No. It was entirely a taunt. He was messing with Peter. Again with the passive agressive. You almost couldn't tell, actually...because he was so...Scary on the surface already...But well...there he was purpousefully extending this for Peter...just to watch him squirm. "I would much rather hear from my lovely prisoner first...If you don't mind." He grinned. His tone was entirely casual. Almost as though we had a choice in the matter. "Now..If I remove this...and the result is that tinnitis enducing racket...I'm going to have someone deliver my noise canceling headphones so that I can remove every bone in your face without having to deal with that...whistle." Mr.Face threatened. I had never heard that one before.

I bit down hard on my lip to keep silent, even though the acid was burning more and more.

SOMEWHERE IN AUDA...

The guard sidestepped the fire neatly and dropped Ezra neatly to the floor, by kicking straight through his knee. Tax evasion was serious buisness in Auda.