night two - kill log

[judgejudy]

Who: Killers and Charles Fei-Ong
When: The second night
Where: The operating theatre

[ No matter what you may have been doing, the deep sleep of the enforced curfew will eventually overtake you at 2AM. It's not clear just how much time has passed, but when you wake, you're certainly not in your room. You're in a room that you've never seen before, and the drowsiness of whatever keeps you asleep is still making you sluggish as it fades away. The only thing familiar here is that about half a landing up, you'll see an overhead door that might be familiar.

However, this might not be as important as how Judy's voice suddenly speaks up. ]

All of the arrangements have been made, and databanks are recording. You may begin, science team. You'll find your requested tool next to the subject.

[ A tool? If you look around for what that might mean, it might be obvious.

On a surgical tray right next to you, you'll see a nailbat. ]

Comments

[encored]

[HERE HE IS, MURDER CONTESTANT NUMBER ONE!! And boy is he unhappy...ish. Also still having quite a bit of difficulty with the sluggishness left over, which hampers his reflexes pretty strongly, since he'd have snapped bolt upright and jogged the heck over to put his back against a wall under normal circumstances.

Instead, it takes him a few seconds to even try sitting upright, and his hand slips from the side of the table and bangs into the tray beside him, drawing his attention to the nailbat.]

What in the world—?

[turinged]

Hello.

[seemingly unmoved by his shock, she walks forward to the surgical tray, picking up the nailbat and weighing it in her hands. it is not what she was expecting, to be sure, and she would prefer something... neater. still, there is work to be done.]

This will be less painful and over more quickly if you do not move.

[encored]

[Unfortunately for Charles, he's the sort of person that refuses to listen to others just by virtue of not liking being told what to do. Though this time, at least, he has pretty fair reason to not listen... Rather than staying still, he tries to move backwards and away to the edge of the table, but he's still pretty slow.

He's also probably mildly concussed or something after Diva went after his head with an Atlas candle holder so there's that too, thanks Diva!!]

What the hell is that supposed to mean?

[turinged]

Explaining would most likely only upset you more. I will warn you again that it will be better if you do not move.

[she takes a few steps towards him, bat in her hand. despite her warning, she doesn't want the physical effects he's feeling to wear off. she wants to finish this quickly.]

[encored]

If your aim was to avoid upsetting me, you've already failed there.

[There's a bitter bite in his tone because even in harrowing situations he's a little shit.

He also 100% doesn't listen to her advice, though that means he basically just sort of topples off the side of the table in his attempt to get away from her, since he's pretty sorely lacking in coordination right now. Just leave him to his own devices and he'll probably die from multiple concussions before she even needs to nailbat him to death, honestly.]

[turinged]

That was not my aim.

[it may become increasingly obvious what her aim is once she's close enough to his person to hit him with the bat. she swings down hard at one of his legs, thinking that slowing his movements will make this easier in the long run.]

[encored]

[There's a strong hiss of pain, but his profile doesn't say high pain tolerance for nothing. If anything, that just tells him that he needs to move faster to get away.

Or, you know. Try. Which is pretty hard now that he's down one leg and was missing one arm from the start. It's hard to tell with all of the fancy clothing he's wearing, but he's only using his left arm to attempt to crawl away from her. He doesn't spare any more time trying to ask what she's after just yet, since fight or flight is kicking in. It may seem like he's flight-ing, but his eyes are darting all around the room, looking for some sort of weapon or anything he could use to defend himself with.]

[turinged]

[she pries the weapon out of his leg once she's done striking, taking another few steps to keep up with him and slamming the nailbat down again - this time into his back with the same amount of force as before. methodical and thorough, she stomps down on his injured leg to attempt to hold him in place.]

[encored]

[That's enough to wrench a pained cry out of him. He tries to move forward again, but he's pretty dang tiny so keeping his leg pinned is more than enough to keep him in place. Not to mention the fact that taking such a severe whack to the back would leave him out of commission for a while regardless, even if he wasn't about to get got.]

Why? [It's not a pained question or a plea or any show of desperation, though. If anything, he spits the word out with an incredible amount of venom, like he wants to know the reason so he can fuel his spite.]

[turinged]

[she thinks about it for a moment. she certainly isn't doing this out of any animosity or hatred towards him; they've never spoke before now, after all. she can imagine being in his position - frightened, angry, powerless at the hands of another. if this action didn't have to be taken, she would not do so. she is almost sorry for him, and while it isn't enough to stop her from seeing this through...]

I was ordered to kill you. I'm going to aim at your head and neck now. It should end this quickly.

[she isn't sorry she's going to do this, but she is sorry it has to happen to him. she at least owes him an answer.]

[encored]

[There's something about that phrase that sits strangely with Charles, to the point where even now in the immediate face of death, he's unsettled by it. I was ordered to kill you.

He's very young, he thinks, but the reflexive exhaustion that those words trigger feel ancient, like they've been with him for longer than he's been alive.]

...I don't suppose you'll do me the favor of giving me a name behind that order?

[He's only one small human, after all, and even though he's bitter with fury and disdain and hatred, he holds no delusions that he could fight back in this state. The question isn't an attempt to stall for time so much as genuine curiosity.]

[turinged]

[as before, she considers this question for a moment, too. while she understands well enough that he cannot escape in this state, couldn't possibly pass this information onto anyone else - no, it is too hazardous. she frowns to herself.]

I cannot. My... apologies.

[she slams the nailbat down into his head and neck, as she said she would.]

[encored]

Hah...

["It figures" is what he's gearing up to say, but his next words don't manage to make it out before the bat slams down into him a third time. All things considered, it's a pretty merciful death in that it's quick and doesn't give him much time to linger on how messed up the situation is, or feel much fear.

Enjoy that bed now that it has a shorter line of competition, hot damn.]