Dramatic Death Scenes!

Beatle's head cleared finally because of the pain instead of fogged. He could see clearly now. The man was cutting him, not the guard, but someone like him. The knife was cruel, and sharp, and scary. Beatle squeezed his eyes shut, and even that gave him pain. If he moved slightly, Beatle feared he would instantly die. He didn't want to die. He wanted to be home again.
Beatle let out a quiet moan, followed by a wheeze as he took a painful break, and spoke, "A-Are you almost d-do . . Done . . "
The clarity was starting to fade. He felt a new type of light-headedness now. The loss of blood quickened his heart, but he felt himself starting to fade away.
No! No! Don't give in! Use your super powers!

Mr.Face:

"I am at 124 digits. Most people stop being alive at about 156. It really depends on you and how stubborn you are. I however will be working for another few hours after you die, getting all 500 digits plugged in properly." I informed him calmly. He was actually making this experience quite soothing, which was a pleasant change from the typical insanity and useless whining that went on at these sacrifices.

"I c-can't count t-that h-high . . . Am I . . . D-doing good?" Beatle whispered, his eyes almost closing.
It was getting harder to think. With a few more knife cuts, the pain started to fade. No, not just pain; everything was fading now. He couldn't feel most of his body. He was just a mind, a mind in a head. A mind that could still think.
He thought of Fishy. Beatle imagined how it felt to be held in his big brother's arms, what it was like when they first met and Beatle had escaped the castle to go outside for the first time . . . All his good memories were brought back to him, a movie behind his eyelids. Beatle blinked it away. He wasn't dying yet. Not yet. If he could help it.

Mr.Face:

"You are doing exceptionally average. Congragulations." I informed the child, only somewhat paying attention to the conversation. "And again, I would like to commend you on your vocal control. The screaming has been pleasantly minimal." In any other place minimal screaming would have been a bad thing. However...this was serious buisiness, and the screaming tended to distract me.

Alex
We waited until the escapees had entered the dark region, I could hear their swift and soft footsteps getting closer and closer.
'Now' My thoughts was filled with Dorian's message as he sent it to me, and my mind lashed out, freezing the prisoners to place.
I felt almost sorry for them, there was no way they could have seen it coming. They probably had hope, like they might escape... and then...
I pushed those thoughts from my mind. If I felt sympathy for everybody we hurt or killed...
In the dark I could hear Dorian approach the now paralyzed prisoners, his chuckle reverberating through the hallway. Then silence for a few moments, as I held my breath, waiting... waiting...
Three gunshots, one after the other, broke the tension. I figured he shot them each in a leg, to ensure they couldn't get away even if my hold broke, but nothing fatal.

These big words, and that tone of his voice, so happy. It was out of place.
"T-Thanks," Beatle said in a hoarse voice.
More cuts, they never stopped. Sometimes there would be a slight pause and Beatle would hope for it to be over, but it would start again, the knife back in his skin.
It was time for Beatle to accept that he had minutes, maybe seconds, left. The thought hung in his barely-living mind. So much blood was gone now, so little left. Instead of quickening, his heart began to slow. It had given up on the continuous pumping of his blood almost entirely.
"Can you tell . . . Fishy . . . That . . . " Beatle started, but before he asked to pass on a message, Fishy was there beside him instead of across the room.
He had a sort of funny glow about him, and he didn't look quite right, but he was here. Here. In Beatle's nearly final moments.
"What happens . . . when I die . . ." Beatle asked lightly, as if it were no big question.
He didn't have the urge to scream anymore. He couldn't feel anything at all now. Beatle was wondering how he could still talk, still see, still hear.

Mr.Face:

"One would assume that your cerebral processes cease to function, and that you just...stop existing. I really have no other relevant information, as I do not intend on experiencing that. Ever." I liked this kid. He was existensial. It was pleasant change from the screaming. hmm...154. I wondered how much longer he would be speaking. It was always interesting to see when people stopped. Excuse my word choice...Hear.

T.Mor's Soul:

This was not suppoused to be guarded.
THIS WAS SO NOT SUPPOUSED TO BE GUARDED.
Especially not right now...
These thoughts, and some thoughts that went along the lies of 'HOLY CRAP I'VE BEEN SHOT' Were running through my head at the same time. This, I'm guessing is why I lost focus on the whole 'physical manifestation' aspect of things. I mean...there was this...erm...I dunno the word for it actually...I think pain is the word T.Mor uses...Just...IN MY LEG. And then...Focus was shattered.
Oh Crap.
And then...Faculties were going away.

T.Mor:

I was not a deer anymore. Why was I a deer in the first place? NO IDEA. Why was I not a deer anymore?...Erm...See above answer. But so, I wasn't a deer anymore, and the burning in my arms came back terribly abruptly. I heard what sounded like a mask clatter to the floor somewhere behind me. I wondered, as all my...er...human powers? Sure. Call them that...Came back to me if we were screwed again.

Upon not having four weight carrying feet anymore, I kind of felt off balance. I nearly fell over, but at the last second hugged a wall with a soft thump. The stone of the wall pushed uncomfotrably on my acid burns. An "ergh." of pain quietly escaped me.

I think we were kind of screwed.

Cricket
I was walking. "Agh!" Two of my legs vanished and I nearly did a faceplant, but reached my hands out just in time to soften my fall...hands. Hands? Wait. This...this was not good thiswasnotgood WHY WAS I NOT FURRY. Ow, my leg hurt...my wrists stung...shit. Shit. SHIT. And there was no bloody mask in front of my face, shit.

Peter

I suddenly found myself with a dire lack of wings.

I regained my physical body in midair, dropping to the ground with a thud! Sparks momentarily danced across my vision as my head connected with the floor, and a burst of pain shot up my leg. Even through my daze, I knew one thing.

We were pretty royally screwed.

Dorian
...I was not expecting that.
The three prisoners that I had just shot dissapeared into thin air.
I fired off a couple of bullets where they had just been standing, in case they had gone invisible, but they just shot into the opposite wall. Then I heard three distinct thuds. Looking around, I saw three shadowy forms, two of them on the ground, one of them leaning on a wall.

Cricket
Shit shit shit. Shitshitshit, shitshit. Shit. Shit shitshit shit shit, shit shit.

Our souls were shot, we were shot, we were down, they were up and ready to take us away...well...shit.

What do you do, in a situation like that?

I pushed myself off the ground, and pain shot through my leg again in a way that made me stumble into a wall. I tried to see whoever had shot at us. Just guards. How did they...who...? This was bad. This was very, very bad.

"Shit."

" . . . 'Kay," Bealte grunted, finally letting his eyes close, and his fists unclench.
His entire body loosened, and the motion didn't cause Beatle pain anymore. His breathing got deeper, and then Beatle felt like he didn't need to anymore, but he kept it up, just because he felt he had to. . .
"Do you think . . . That it's going to . . . Nice?" he managed to say, his mouth slurring all the words as he felt the last of him start to let go of holding on to life.
Fishy's warm arms embraced him. They felt funny, not real, but a memory of a hug. Beatle was fine with that.
"Yes," his imagination answered for him, "it's what you deserve."
As he felt himself finally slipping away, his mind fading, he had his final thoughts. Had he been a good person? Yes; he'd been a super-hero. Though he hadn't been the best younger brother, he'd been a good boy. When he lived in the castle as a cleaner, he'd always done his job well, and was nice to the kitchen staff who were so fond of him. And he'd made that sad look in Fishy's eyes go away. Beatle had been a good boy.
It was as if he had another set of eyes in his head. Finally, they closed for good, his body finally shutting down painlessly, and Bealte was gone.

Spades
To the boss, this is all just a game
And most of the time, I love games. But you know what I like even more than games?
Winning.
And sure, the Joker is content to run around playing mind games with Batsy for the rest of eternity, and that's swell and all... but I want /my/ enemy, the bird, under my thumb. I want to hear him scream. I want to hear him beg for his life. And then I want to crush him.
The thought made me giggle as I walked up to where the Joker was sitting, reading the paper, probably to see if last night's escapades made front page. I bit my lip, my smile dropping. I was nervous to ask him for anything,never knowing what would make him snap, and what would make him smile. He looked up, and opened his mouth to speak, but I interrupted him
"Boss... I want to kill the Boy Wonder. Today. And I know how, too"
He paused, studying me for a moment as I held my breath. Then he grinned, and I knew my plan was in business.

(I am pretty sure Dorian and Crick haven't been formally introduced, but at least Dorian knows OF Crick. I think. I'll edit if this is displeasing)
Dorian
I smirked, approaching the sound of the recognizable voice.
"Watch your language, bug, there are children in this building. Probably being tortured or some such thing" Then I brought the butt of my pistol down hard on the back of his head, hard enough to knock him out cold

Robin
Trying to get leads on a recent cop killing, Bats said to separate and look for trails from the crime scene. I pause on my bike, stepping off and picking up a casing from a bullet, looking around for any others.


erm. you can decide if spades did it or not...

Peter

My brain functions returning and the fog clearing, I reached into my boot and pulled out my knife. That voice...it sounded familiar. Planar influence? I couldn't think of any reason he would be in Auda...but of course, Cricket was here, too. Bah, why was I thinking about that at a time like this?

I staggered to my feet, holding the knife firmly and glaring.

...Who was I kidding? We were beyond screwed.

Spades
It was almost too easy, really. Kill a cop, leave a clue here and there, just add water... and wait. I knew that Batsy and Robin would split up, so I just stuck to the ally's shadows and followed Boy Blunder on my motorcycle until he got far enough away from his boss, in a nice, secluded part of town
"Found anything interesting, birdy?" I asked, pulling into sight with a wide grin.

Dorian
I turned around and saw another figure standing there. It was too dark to see who it was, though
"What do we have here?" I chuckled, raising my gun

Robin
I spin, taking a defensive poise. "Does a lone Rubix Cube count?" I ask with just a hint of a smirk. She had her cards though, she didn't use a gun anymore. But I narrow my eyes suspiciously, ready for anything. Always the one for the first punch...

Peter

Crap, he had a gun... Those were never a problem for me on a normal day, but... Hell. If I was going to die here, which was very likely, at least I wasn't dying at the hands of the Sybek.

But that voice was still so familiar!

I said nothing in response, merely narrowing my eyes and shifting slowly into a defensive position.

Spades
I rolled my eyes, though my grin stayed. We almost looked like a couple of friends sharing an old joke.
"You're really annoying, Boy Blunder, do you know that?" I took a step closer, not quite ready to make an offensive move. He wouldn't attack me, I knew, so I was going to take my time in this.

Dorian
"Now, we can do this the easy way, or the hard way. The hard way involves more shooting" I fire off a shot, just inches away from his leg "only next time, I actually hit you"

Robin
I stand my ground, careful. "So? What's your business, so we can get on with our lives," i mutter, reaching behind me slowly for my staff.

Peter

"See if I care," I told him with a scowl. "I already know I'm pretty damn fucked as it is."

We had been so close! So close!

((Why...can I not...write... *bangs head on keyboard*))

Spades
"Just a bit of bird hunting" I laughed, letting a smoke bomb fly. From the instant it detonated, the entire area filled with a thick, inky smoke

Dorian
"True" I chuckled, firing into his leg. My only emotion was a slight, sadistic, joy

Robin
I shield my eyes, looking around quickly and keeping my guard up. I couldn't see a thing though, the smoke burning my throat when I breathed.

Cricket
I winced for Peter, resisting the urge to shout out his name. What would that do? It was like carrying around a big sign that said 'HEY! I don't like it when you hurt my friends! I shouldn't be announcing this because you'll just hurt them anyway, if not more!' So I bit my tongue and steadied myself against the wall, glaring.