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Jul 31, 2013 13:05:26 GMT -8
Post by Deleted on Jul 31, 2013 13:05:26 GMT -8
Dresden clears the "doorway" like any self-respecting soldier would: with a quickness. He was hot on Margot's heels. She went one way, he went the other, clearing the corner quickly before turning his attention to the man in the room. His revolver might not have been as intimidating as an assault rifle, but it didn't have to be. He had learned a long, long time ago that nearly anything will do if you come through a doorway fast enough and yelled loud enough, especially after a flashbang.
And now his voice rang out, the experience bellow of a senior noncom that could just as easily demand surrender as it could send a private off to KP.
"GET ON THE GROUND! GET ON THE FUCKING GROUND!"
Dresden had a few tricks that weren't available to the normal soldier, however. As his voice echoed through the room, his mind lashed out with the same sentiment: get on the ground or die. His oppresively heavy Force presence could, if needed, overpower maybe 90% of the sentient beings in the universe outright. Those more resistant to Force suggestions would take additional work, but if he'd ever practiced, even that wouldn't have been a problem.
As it was, he sincerely hoped the bespectacled man and his heavily armed aide would heed the command. They could hash out the details of why they were there later, after he was sure they weren't a threat. And if they tried to fight, well, ugly wouldn't quite cover it.
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Diva, from Aeons Torn
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Aug 1, 2013 15:02:26 GMT -8
Post by Diva, from Aeons Torn on Aug 1, 2013 15:02:26 GMT -8
*There was much, and there was nothing, but it was always a special moment when Diva was truly surprised.*
"Oh. OH! That clever bitch is cheating!"
"Diva. . . Diva? Your hand. Your hand! YOUR HAND! HAND! HAND!"
"Oooops. Um. Well, yes, that should grow out in a few days. Give or take. Here! Have more roses!"
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Gukky
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Aug 2, 2013 8:32:10 GMT -8
Post by Gukky on Aug 2, 2013 8:32:10 GMT -8
Step, step, step.
To some, receiving a title like "doctor" was tantamount to becoming a doctor and both the goal and accomplishment. To Gustav, he had always been a doctor, possessing the natural curiosity, intellect, resourcefulness to work his way through academia to receive this title. And even when they took it away from him, he would still continue to be a doctor. It was a part of the natural flow and ebb of the moment and the future, one he was adept in following. And each encounter was an opportunity to exercise his ability.
Step, st-
As the light dissolved the Major, he would feel the tune change. In mid-step, his dance changes, in time, in sync with the moment. Perhaps the sequence of events would change, the means that he used to accomplish them would change but the ultimate plan didn't change one iota. His team was equally fluid in managing the moment and following his lead. Florentjin never left the shadows, carefully hid from plain view, unless you would be looking for her.
All there was was a man, coming out of the flash, hands in his pockets, paused in mid-step. Eralam's shout should have had an unprepared man floored, but Gustav seemed unfazed by it. None of the three was a terror he feared. He knew them and trusted them to be who he knew them all to be. Slowly, he took his hands out of his pockets and reached with his ten fingers to the roof.
::I'm unarmed.::
He gave a self-deprecating smile that creased his cheeks, as if he knew it was a bad idea to be around here unarmed. Of course, he wasn't unarmed, but he wasn't about to fight the trio. Not when they were supposed to be fighting someone else. Besides, he wanted to talk. Ask me what I'm doing here. Ask me where she is. Ask me anything and I'll tell you what I want you to know.
I. See. You.
The staccato voice spoke softly, blossoming in the space where Florentjin had stood and watched the Major and the Doctor talk. What was reality? The interpretation of the eye's perception of the world, or the particles of matter themselves? What did that matter to the glowing red eye that now watched the Major? All it knew was that the Major had and still sat on the bench. And all it had to do was watch her.
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Chloro
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Post by Chloro on Aug 3, 2013 0:36:52 GMT -8
It didn't matter to Chloro that the doctor claimed to be unarmed. She didn't even bother with the niceties of asking him to surrender, like Eralam did. His smug smile was more than enough to deserve a nothing but her best. She was two long steps away from him, which was too close to feed him a missile, but close enough for her to let him kiss the barrel. Swinging the launcher around, she aimed to broadside him with the steel tube across his face.
Besides, coming from her, it was as close to a warm welcome the doctor would get.
The first time they met, the horror of losing her hands had just begun to set in. Fresh-faced and brimming with idealism, he had given the eight-year-old back what she had lost. But that would be a mistake. As soon as she could curl the fingers of her prosthetics, she planted an improvised explosive in the emergency centre. He had survived. No matter how many she had maimed, burnt or cut down, it was men like him that put them back together again. She hated him and his kind more than any of the enemy they fought. He wouldn't kill anyone. He was too good for that. He'd just help others do the dirty work. Ultimately, the hands that he had given her had probably killed as many as he healed. Still, that would never be enough. She and the others had fled, right before the inevitable defeat.
When her enemies had finally caught up to her on Corellia and took her apart, he had been there again to put her back together again. At first she thought he had learnt nothing from his earlier mistake. But he had learnt a perverse spite. He had exposed her to the full brunt of her actions, the tortures, the mass killings and the indiscriminate bombings. He had given her a soul again and it wanted to do nothing but die, rather than be a part of the monster that she had become. The death wish had dragged her down, craving nothing more than wanting to die.
But she couldn't. Not when she had so much left to do. She'd get that pink monster, that traitor, if that was the last thing that she did.
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The Major
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Aug 4, 2013 15:51:13 GMT -8
Post by The Major on Aug 4, 2013 15:51:13 GMT -8
"Tha's great. Bully. Right as rain. Yeh, well, yue guys andle tha', but this is another trick. I'm done with tricks. I'm going tue th' source itself an' cuttin' th' tumor from there."
Margot proceeds to the T-intersection, ignores the new targets, and once clear, begins to sprint down the hall. A medley of emotions display and interchange upon her face besides the usual hum-drum that came with sprinting. No more, no more games. No more playing into hands. It was time to end this poor show with a hail of gunfire.
Let the agent sort out the creeps and their minions, let Dresden follow who he sees fit. Margot just knew it, down into her bones, that every minute they wasted with unseen fronts was another minute the witch had bought herself. No, it was better to keep her off balance and constantly attack. That was the downfall of the homeworld: people stopping, questioning eachother, dividing, infighting, adding more corpses for the dead to add into their ranks. The funny thing was that she had made it pretty far down the hallway, and she was wondering why there were no traps set.
But then life had a way of turning even the best laid plans to complete dust. For instance, when you ran headlong into Diva, you generally cursed how unlucky or unprepared you were. She always had a way seemingly being fooled, only to turn it around the moment you laid out your hand. Right now, 50 meters down the hallway and away from Dresden, and Chloro, the proverbial fecal matter was about to hit the metaphorical fan.
Right now, this was one of those times.
"Shitfire. . ."
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Diva, from Aeons Torn
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Aug 4, 2013 16:14:20 GMT -8
Post by Diva, from Aeons Torn on Aug 4, 2013 16:14:20 GMT -8
Step, step, step, gish, gish, gish, step, step, step.
You brave the ice once, you brave it again, you stand against after that, and then you start realizing that no matter how hard you fight it, though you win the field, or the city, or the planet -whether you outlast a day, a week, a year, or even a decade, she keeps coming back to put you ill at ease. You feel the chill once again. The fear wants to take you, swallow you, as everything you feel uncomfortable about splays about in your head, and then your mind's eye shows you only what you're terrified of. What hope did the living have? For if not for the lesser gods, if not for the sake of The Game, then this little teenager with the crooked smile and the loving eyes would always be there, overturning, over consuming, and in only guided by how far she was willing to limit herself.
Of course, that was until she met the little girl who refused to surrender when surrounded by the sea of bloody chaos. That was until she met the Whill who willingly blasted himself down to the level of mortals. That was until she met the pink sprite who had nothing, took everything, lived with no compass, and was like a set of imaginary numbers smacking around the preconceptions of the universe. These wonderful three were all here.
And for the first time in a long time, Diva felt happy.
Very happy.
"I play chess; you play poker, aye? You're running out of time -redemption soars further and further away but you don't care, you think you can't scare. Let me take you down, Riplian, because now I'm going to. Now is the time to learn of humility. Now is the time you learn your cards are going to really suck. Mmmmm hmmm hmmm. Hahhh hahhh ahhh hahh. Mmmm hummmm ha."
The Witch quickens her progress towards Margot, now reaching out with her arms as if to embrace her in a hug.
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Aug 4, 2013 18:21:45 GMT -8
Post by Deleted on Aug 4, 2013 18:21:45 GMT -8
"Oh, fuck off Grasshopper."
Dresden sprinted after the officer, leaving Chloro to handle the two in the room. She was a big girl, and if she couldn't handle those two, then she deserved what was coming. Meanwhile, Margot had sprinted off towards Danger Unknown. Or rather, Danger Known but Not Quite Located Yet. If she ran into Diva before he was ready, that might be bad. He got there a few seconds after Margot, just in time to find the Ice Queen making her approach.
Finally. This was what he had been waiting for. His revolver was still in hand, ready to be used at a moment's notice, but it wasn't pointing at anything in particular. Yet.
"Hello, Diva."
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Gukky
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Aug 5, 2013 1:11:17 GMT -8
Post by Gukky on Aug 5, 2013 1:11:17 GMT -8
Be courteous and compliant. Put your hands in the air and no-one will pay you any mind, until it was too late. It was laughable how easily that gambit had worked and it was further proof to the power of politeness. It neatly ruptured the group into the amoral psychopaths and the noble heroics, leaving him to square off against the one. Chloro.
Rolling his head, the doctor bent impossibly backwards, like a springboard, letting the missile tube sail overhead. He could appreciate the wild rictus that contorted her face, the blood-streaked tears from her leaking sinuses, the burning white gleam of her teeth. Nothing had changed. Waiting for tube to reach its furthest point in its travel, Gustav gave her a one-two with his gangly knees, aiming to wind her, before following up with a solid right hook with his boney fist to her head. Very surgical. Very neat. Dazed and winded, possibly disarmed.
In any event, the reshuffle on the dancefloor had left Chloro's flanks exposed. Florentjin didn't need to be asked twice to neutralise Chloro. A jab to the kidneys with the short black baton, coupled with a high-powered shock would be enough to cripple any electrolyte-based organic nervous system for a few moments. This would be especially when you were dealing with someone like Chloro. She'd probably a'slpode herself before she would let herself be taken down. Quite straight-forward, really.
But there was no longer a smug, self-assured smirk on the doctor's face.
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The Major
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Iziz
Aug 5, 2013 5:01:15 GMT -8
Post by The Major on Aug 5, 2013 5:01:15 GMT -8
"Technicalities, threats. I 'ave done what yue asked, plus rounded th' whole lot together. Yue lose, Beast. Now keep tue our deal: give 'em back, now."A smile rips out on Margot's face; the corners of her mouth are too sharp like jutting arrows. Down her hand reaches, reaching for the glowing pink flowing from her hip.Would it ease your mind to know that this woman is every bit as monstrous as the evil we seek? The first thing to drop is the voice, always the voice. Ice touches, a soul filled with spite unrivaled reveals itself like a smoke discharge from a firing line. The octave and pitch shift and blend, turning into a mixture of a number of aliases, as it shuffles to find the real one in the conjured chaos."An' dinnae even fink of loopholing outta this one, Monsta, Demon, Devil, Witch conceived from th' bleakest womb--"And it is here where Diva makes a cutting motion with her snow white hand.
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Diva, from Aeons Torn
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Aug 5, 2013 5:20:02 GMT -8
Post by Diva, from Aeons Torn on Aug 5, 2013 5:20:02 GMT -8
"Hush."And it was as much of a choice as it was an order.
"Don't make a fool of yourself here, now, in front of the rest of the family. Don't tarnish that beauty I've taken care of for so long. Haughty? Greatness? Little Rip, you're still that girl I met right here, even where I stand a decade ago. You're that little girl hated by that old family. Tell me, that face you make, the one with the teeth: that's still by not by choice, is it? Try as hard as you can to hide it, you can't run from it. Major? Don't make me laugh, as if a runt like you could ever garner respect from an insect. Margot, eh? Major plus a tee, right? Even your illusions can't fall far from the tree. You want these crutches so bad? You're willing to trade anything inside for just a slice of power? Really? And I am the monster? Take them, you animal. Take them, huntress. But tell me: who's going to protect you from me? That man standing there? Honey, sweetie, that man is the very man who made your precious 'Warhammer' in the first place. So don't you see? You don't play with me. you don't frame my symmetry."
It is at this point that Diva produces a wooden instrument, a musket if ever such a thing can be called as such, and a bag -presumably filled with meine balls -the magic bullets. Magic? No. Just more of her essence. She tosses these like they are trash towards the Fallanassi, who catches them and nearly drops them in -what, panic?
"Introducing, the one, the only, self contained Whill in a box: Eralam! Oy, Riplian? Why are you sweating? I can smell it from here, the little beads shaking out your brow. Oooooooooooh boooooy, are you starting to realize the shit you've stepped in? No, too much pride, eh? Never fear, I am here."
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Aug 5, 2013 6:09:45 GMT -8
Post by Deleted on Aug 5, 2013 6:09:45 GMT -8
Confusion is immediate and severe.
"What."
The voices start to shift, and Dresden gets a whiff of the White Current. It wasn't a discipline he was intimately familiar with, as he had always relied on his robotic nature to spot illusions. No wonder Margot (or was it Major, or Riplian?) had managed to fool him. He wasn't looking for that sort of thing, and he doubted he could see through it with his human mind anyway.
"The."
It occured to him that Diva might be lying, trying to throw him off balance. That would be her style. But if that was the case, why was she working all her magic on the other woman? Margot, or whatever the hell her name really was, had been lying more or less from the beginning. And he had fallen for it, hook, line, and sinker.
"Fuck."
Which meant, of course, that this had been a setup. The manor, the ghouls, the battle. It had been bait. How do you make a man that has given up hope fight? Make him curious. Draw him in, give him a reason to care. Mission fucking accomplished. Dresden cared, and cared enough that the realization that he had been played like a fiddle did not sit well.
Confusion gave way to anger.
Anger gave way to rage.
He was going to tear this whole place down, brick by brick. And then he'd build it back up using the crushed bodies of the women, if they could be called that, as mortar. There were only two of them, so he'd have to spread it very, very thing. But hey, that much bullshit is bound to be sticky, right? And hell, no reason he couldn't throw Chloro in the pot. She was probably a part of this somehow. The doctor back there? Sure, why not. Fuck him, right? His assistant too. He had a special hell in mind for Kuroro. She was going to go someplace very dark and very cold.
The rage built to almost intolerable levels. A manic grin spread across the fallen Whill's face as the very air around him seethed. He prepared to strike, if one were to consider "strike" to be a suitable euphamism in a situation where "go apocalyptically fucking insane" would have been putting it mildly. And then, a whisper, almost unheard over the sound of the Force screaming in pain from the strain of holding reality together against the Dresden's best efforts.
Wait...
The rage was still there, but a measure of restraint had returned. Dresden might have been a different creature from Eralam, but he still knew a thing or two about patience. The red began to recede from his vision. He would wait. There might be a suitable explanation, after all. But if there wasn't, if this was just some game played purely for shits and giggles...
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The Major
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Aug 5, 2013 6:57:38 GMT -8
Post by The Major on Aug 5, 2013 6:57:38 GMT -8
What? How? The Eralam from that encounter on Dressel? The robot commissioned to create the Trumpet? No, impossible, why would a person waste so much time just to trap a fo- oh. That's right. Diva is not a person. Oh, if it were possible to accurately describe that sinking emotion as you realized you have been placed in between two of the worst possible things that existed within the universe: Eralam, the robot she had watched through the cameras installed into Subje--- Diva. Eralam, who could create stars with a very thought. He was to be the enemy and next template on her piggy back of more intensive and more intrinsic technology, but to meet him here, to have him standing right behind her -unprepared! So that's why Diva gave her this odd bet. To bring the very being she had wanted from the beginning, to bring him into a position where they...
Thoughts. Ha. Thoughts?
There were no thoughts but the sudden fear of a violent death, half tortured, half eaten, and no doubt done in by the most ironic means possible.
The Major cannot speak. She can't even attempt to conjure up a lie to try and save herself -to weasel and survive yet another impossible encounter. There was too much icy malice on her front, and too much boiling rage behind her. It was intolerable, like a noose. She could not breath. Sweat, it forms upon the small of her back; skin feels like tingling bubbles as goosebumps explode all along the arms exposed by the rolled up sleeves.
". . .*gulp*"
"Oh God, if there is any God, please save me. Oh, wait. You don't exist. Oh no. Oh no. Not here. Not in this terrible place. Anything? Anyone? Don.. Do..." and that thought trail weaves into nothingness too.
Whatever concentration needed to hold together the white current fails like an empty shell casing ejected from a cheap .22LR pistol. That's what she was at the moment: an underpowered casing already fired and quite useless. The braid of shocking brown grows longer, sleek, and black. Freckles begin to pock mark her cheeks and nose, and the jaw line and nose shift to offer refuge to her rather unique appearance. The shoulders and legs grow up to her actual height, and the skin pales to something you'd expect from a cowardly sniper who hides in shadows all day, even the frame thins out slightly from the more hardly kommando to, well.... Major. Guess what, that wound? Nope. Not there, but there is something there in her pocket. Something pink and heavy, warm like a comforting sun. Speaking of which, Diva has just reached into the pocket and has pulled the eralam crystal out. Which, of course, causes Riplian to tremble visibly. You could actually see her knees beginning to knock together and turn inwards.
Yea, the musket was loaded, that could be felt. What would shooting it do? Piss them both off? Make them laugh and slice and dice her with rifle itself? Even if that was the only way to survive, she couldn't move. She has effectively frozen up. And why?
Because there was something so beautiful about somebody so warped realizing that had royally fucked up.
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Aug 5, 2013 7:38:46 GMT -8
Post by Deleted on Aug 5, 2013 7:38:46 GMT -8
Fear has a peculiar smell in most humanoid species. And it was pouring in waves off the Fallanassi woman. Dresden had never put much store in concepts like Light and Dark, but he was beginning to understand how the Sith found instilling fear in their victims so entertaining. The stench of terror was delightful, something he had never appreciated as an Iron Knight.
Now, he was all kinds of appreciative. Diva might have been able to follow him as he darted up behind the Major, but surely the human would simply register the warmth of his physical presence as he pressed up against her back and leaned down to whisper in her ear. That, and the rage of an exploding star coursing through the Force so violently that it was a wonder the room didn't just explode.
"You, my dear, have some explaining to do."
His voice was husky, soft, almost sensual, like a lover whispering in the dark of the night, completely at odds with the inferno to her six. God, the fear was delicious. Dresden would very much have liked to bend down just a little further to nibble at her neck and taste it, but he held back. Barely. This vintage hadn't properly aged yet. He had a feeling that the Ice Queen would be able to improve it by orders of magnitude.
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Diva, from Aeons Torn
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Aug 5, 2013 9:52:00 GMT -8
Post by Diva, from Aeons Torn on Aug 5, 2013 9:52:00 GMT -8
Excellent. Everything was going so very well. Diva had the crystal, Eralam was relishing that euphoria you got when you caused fear, Kuroro was in her pocket, and the other fool this fool had bought had managed to distract the only human here that would be worth killing. There would be no mistakes this time. The powers that be were very clear on this fact: she may have some fun, but not at the cost of destiny. She was a force of nature, after all, willing to play the part of a slave because, quite frankly, it made her tummy all butterfly filled when she ate her wings to make her stronger and weaker all at the same time. There was nothing like this: picking a person so unlucky, so filled with hate, that they become your little paramour, no, paragon, while all the while thinking it was by their hand. Whoops, better not let any other person get to the crystal. Wasting no more time when contemplating her loveliness, Diva assimilates Eralam's crystal, finally taking in that power that was so dearly owed to her. Splitting her share of his essence would require great concentration, however, so for now, she just holds in within the center of her torso for safekeeping.
Now back to the lowly human. Back to her favorite human in the universe.
"!" The woman who was often called Major tried her best to suddenly sprint away from Dresden's voice, fear splaying across her face, sublime. No, that would be too lucky, and Diva was not done with her yet.
Adding further insult to injury, Diva uses one of the Fallanassi's more basic krav maga moves to quickly subdue her. It consisted of side stepping into her avenue of escape, grabbing the Major's left shoulder with her right, and ditto for the other, simultaneously twisting one shoulder closer and one away -while swinging a combat boot just behind of the scientist's lanky legs, perfectly into the crook of the knee, and sweeping that limb in a circle, syncing with the shoulder rotation. This promptly spun the Major about and threw her off balance. Next, Diva drops her hands to purchase a piece of the musket on either side, and then crunches another doc marten into the wobbly knees of her prey. Textbook submission: the result is that Riplian ends up on the floor, on her knees, while an icy knee cap is pressed into her spine to pin her. To make matters worse, Diva was also pulling up on the musket -which so expertly was tucked just into the target's neck. How did it feel to be choked with the very tool which has protected you for almost a decade? Small wonder.
"You know.... rrrrr... Eralam? I think I'm still a little pissed off about her burning me on your ship! That wasn't nice at all, wouldn't you say? So, Riplian, now that we're listening, explain how you cheated and what exactly you were planning, okay? Come on! Speak up! I want to see you use that silver tongue you so value!"
They both were greeted with choking and retching noises as the victim's face began to turn scarlet, then deepen, then wax purple. Veins appear on her pale neck as Diva just pulls tighter and tighter, and a minute later, the Major's tongue begins to loll out of her mouth, as most people do when there were about to be suffocated by improvised garrote.
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Aug 5, 2013 10:19:41 GMT -8
Post by Deleted on Aug 5, 2013 10:19:41 GMT -8
Dresden was more than happy to let the deceiver sweat it out a little bit, but it wouldn't do to let Diva kill her outright. He didn't remove the weapon from her throat outright, but he did call upon a bit of his power to relieve the pressure.
"Come now Diva, she can hardly answer any questions if you choke her to death on her own weapon."
And what a weapon it was. Dresden was not the sort to forget a gun, especially not one such as this. It wasn't one of his, but the breech, ah, that he remembered well. A little Fallanassi girl, no more than 15 or 16, had brought it to him for some work. It was one of his more clever bits of engineering. Hard to believe this was the same woman, though he knew it had to be. Weapons like this don't change hands willingly.
Once the gasping and coughing had subsided a bit, the former Shard knelt in from of the Major and plucked a single strand of hair from her head. He made sure she could see it in excruciating detail as he split it with one of the razor-sharp tendrils of thought that were his to command.
"Margot, Riplian, whatever the hell your name is, that little demonstration is not a threat. I'm not going to torture you for information, oh no."
Now that he had regained a bit of composure, Dresden's voice was calm, almost parental. He wasn't patronizing her, but he made damn sure she knew exactly where she stood in relation to the two beings with her. Whatever power she might have amassed, whatever trickery she was capable of, she was nothing compared to the might of the Ice Queen and the fallen Whill.
"Frankly my dear, Diva outclasses me in that category by a significant margin. I can hum a few bars and dance a few steps, but I don't think that's called for right now. I just want you to know exactly how outclassed you really are. So when either of us ask you a question, I expect you to answer honestly. Like I said, I won't torture you."
For a brief second, he let the pressure on her windpipe return, a small reminder of how things could have gone.
"But I won't stop Diva from having some fun if you lie. Do you understand?"
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The Major
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Aug 5, 2013 12:33:01 GMT -8
Post by The Major on Aug 5, 2013 12:33:01 GMT -8
One of the strands of hair, the biggest rebel of them all, manages to escape from the twin braid. It flicks out, strikes against Dresden's face, and then settles with a spongy and springy bounce. Nearly as purple as a corpse now, she breathes in the air with selfish and deep sucks, hurting and most likely scarring the inside of her nostrils in the process. For now, she keeps her eyes shut: anything inside of three meters would begin to blur until everything was a hazy mess at meter one. Why look at his out of focus face and put a demon in its place? There was enough going wrong.
"Fff....fff........ffffkk.....Fick Dich!"
There was a certain point, a certain indignity, that should the monsters undertake, would lock her mind down in a silent spin of assumed death. Then again, she wanted to live. Badly. She was afraid of dying, and that was a huge weakness.
"Get this over vwith. Obviously, this ist der endt."
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Aug 5, 2013 13:08:55 GMT -8
Post by Deleted on Aug 5, 2013 13:08:55 GMT -8
Dresden sighed and sat back on his haunches. The pipe came out. He took his time packing the bowl, knowing full well that he should just kill her and be done with it. She had lured him into a trap, and from the look of it, sacrificed an entire company of brave troops for bait. Had he known exactly what the Major was, he'd have probably shot her then and there. As it was, he could almost smell the blood and filth that stained her soul.
She expected to die. That made the threat of death a little less potent. The fear was still there, but it had lost its appeal.
By all rights, she deserved to eat a bullet. He wouldn't give her to Diva, that much he had promised. That the promise was made to a puppet, that she had been playing him for a fool at the time, that didn't matter. He wasn't going to go back on his word. If she died, she died cleanly.
So what to do then? With that in mind, he couldn't bloody well let Diva torture her. As exciting as the prospect of bloody vengeance was, Dresden had no choice but to it go. Indulging in that particular desire would lead him down a path that he wasn't particularly eager to travel. Kill millions in the name of the cause, but not one for the sake of personal gratification. Hadn't that always been his compromise? The knowledge that the sacrifices made extended the lifespan of civilization as a whole didn't make it any easier to wade through blood-soaked fields, but it also kept him from embracing the madness of it all. If he started down that path, he'd be able to challenge Diva for the title of Most Fucked Up Thing Ever in short order.
The match flared to life, struck against a bit of knurled metal on the trigger guard of the musket. The heady aroma of the tobacco soon flooded the corridor, covering up the smell of damp and dust and blood and cordite. This really was good tobacco, if a bit strong for the taste of most beings. The nicotine soon brought a measure of calm to the former Shard. He was still plenty pissed, but he had a handle on his thoughts now, and also a plan.
After almost a minute, he spoke.
"Look, Ri-you know what? I'm going to call you Margot until I figure out what your name actually is. That ok? Anyways, I'm not here to kill you. Nor am I here to kill Diva. That was Chloro's shtick. I just had a few questions for our friend here."
He turned to Diva for a minute.
"Though since you're both here, and I have a feeling that she can be helpful, would you mind letting her breathe?"
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Diva, from Aeons Torn
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If blood is the currency of life, then what's its tax collection service?
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Iziz
Aug 6, 2013 10:59:23 GMT -8
Post by Diva, from Aeons Torn on Aug 6, 2013 10:59:23 GMT -8
"Helpful? Well, no shit, Detective. She's the most helpful human to have a heartbeat since that old guy with the hood. You know, a regular running riot. Questions? You've got them? Just know that you're not gonna like the answers."
Being a good sport, especially with the best being to torment after Yangu, Diva follows Eralam's request, figuring it would be even better should the human decide to sprint or fight. She lifts the musket away and over the Huntress' neck and jerks her knee in order to toss the Major unto her hands. Hands and knees, hands and knees, nothing turned the Ice Witch on more than watching a human crawl on their hands and knees until they were raw and bleeding.
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Deleted
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Iziz
Aug 6, 2013 13:13:02 GMT -8
Post by Deleted on Aug 6, 2013 13:13:02 GMT -8
"Since when have I ever liked your answers," Dresden growled to no one in particular.
"Right. I have metric shit tonne of questions, but for right now, I'll settle for two."
He took a few puffs on the pipe, just enough to keep the thing lit.
"First off, what the hell happened on the ship? One minute you were there, the next minute you were ash. And then we all were a minute or so after that, but that's not the point. The point is, I need to know if this is going to be a problem in the future, because my second question is this: Are you still with me?"
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Diva, from Aeons Torn
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If blood is the currency of life, then what's its tax collection service?
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Iziz
Aug 6, 2013 15:29:22 GMT -8
Post by Diva, from Aeons Torn on Aug 6, 2013 15:29:22 GMT -8
While the good doktor manages to shuffle her way to nearest wall -in order to lean against it, Diva begins to pace the space in the hallway like a tiger hungry for something exciting to happen. Her eyes pulsate and throb enough to make a auditory humming that filled the air with a slight buzzing, like the kind of thing you'd hear from the sky if a thunderstorm was distant.
"Ah, well, about that. You see, I like my power naps. Helps keep my body looking so magnificent. Problem: when I first wake up, I'm a little. . . wonky. You know, right? You remember that other girl you killed? Yeah, stuff like that happens. So, my bestest human friend sort of did a, how do you call it? Soft reset, savvy?"
Now the self styled avatar of gravity starts testing the weight of the musket, hefting it a few times before answering part two.
"Hey, Stupid. If I were against you, I'd have shot at you already. You know, slave to nature and all that? Yeah. Are you going to ask me about my dress next? Because Kuroro made me wear this one. I find it a little clumsy, but thank the Devil's warm heart that it's black."
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