capeandcowllogs | guinea pig in a twisted mouth.

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guinea pig in a twisted mouth.

WHO: Dr. Angelica Einstürzen, and the young vigilantes known as Trauma and the Pillowman.
WHERE: Angelica's secret laboratory.
WHEN: Wednesday, dead of night.
WARNINGS: Violence, death, and the above characters being themselves.
SUMMARY: Terry and Katurian bring the fight to the good doctor-- and she evens the score.
FORMAT: Quicklog.

[ The air was still stale, the place too long hidden underground without a human being inside it-- nothing but dusty vials, the hum of machines, and the flutter of wings in the rafters. Quiet, like a grave. But Angelica preferred it that way. Nothing but cold steel and glass, uninterrupted except by the cawing of the monster crows she kept as pets, bred from the gift of a single egg and matured into beasts in the year she had been gone.

She had meticulously cleaned away the debris, restoring her laboratory with a singular focus. The good doctor needed a proper place for her work, a place hidden from the world-- protected, beneath the earth. It was here that Angelica had spent the past week experimenting, on herself and what scant specimens she could hunt. Slowly, her vials filled with samples, her notebooks filled. This was a time of pupation.

Even now, in the middle of the night, Angelica did not sleep. Under the white light, she was a slender, pale phantom, her hands unnaturally steady as she pierced her skin with the point of a needle, drawing her own blood. ]

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[Katurian let Terry lead the way.

This is not new to me, he had admitted days before. He had told Terry about his killings. About how he was trying to make a difference these days, how he was trying to live life as more than a victim. He didn't want to be passive. He wanted to be active. A writer. He was fucked either way he looked at it, he told Terry. He might as well go down fighting.

He was still the old Katurian, in degrees. He still shook (slightly, just so slightly) as he slipped his mask over his head and clamped down on the voice modulator. He threw an uncertain glance at his partner.]

[ It wasn't that he liked killing. He wasn't that much his father's son, not yet. But somewhere between the protectiveness of his human spirit and the raging hunger of his demon side, he had come to accept that this was what needed to be done. This was the only way to take care of threats like Angelica Einstürzen -- and others like her, too.

He still remembered the way to Angelica's laboratory (that place where he'd slept, helpless and as close to dead as he ever could be, with her looming over him). It was hidden in a mostly abandoned area, under the buildings. Terry kept slightly ahead, leading the way down a dark tunnel that gradually eased into the earth, towards a deceptively unassuming metal door.

Maybe he looked a little pale. Or a little red-eyed. The demon was eager, and the boy determined. He paused at the keypad locking the door, willing the right numbers to come back through the fogginess of time and mixed memories. Finally, he pressed the buttons, hesitating before stepping back.

The lock clicked open. Terry glanced at Katurian. Tried not to second guess himself or think too hard on what they were about to do. ]

You ready, or what?

[ She heard the click of the door. There were only so many people it could be, and none who had reason to come to her unannounced. They ought to have known better. Even like this, wearing her oldest body -- wrinkles at the corners of her eyes, a slight frailness to her posture -- she was as vicious as she ever was.

Carefully, she set the needle full of her blood aside, reaching inside her white coat for one of the number small, sharp objects she kept there. Her favorite scalpel, whisper sharp steel. ]

[Katurian nodded, not yet ready to hear the sound of his voice through the modulator, that monstrous, inhuman sound, and then-- and then he decided to embrace it, he decided to embrace this very special moment.]

Yes.

[He curled the ether out of his pocket. He dabbed the cloth. With Terry distracting Angelica, this should be easier, even, than his other victims. With Terry still legally a child, if things went sour, he could travel backwards along his timeline. He could save them both.]

[ Maybe he should have known something was wrong. His powers were humming under his skin, tasting Katurian's mind beside him, reaching out, hunting, searching-- but Angelica's presence felt foggy and unfocused. Like he couldn't quite find her mind, even with the inner beast starving for her fears.

It made him hesitate just a moment. But maybe his immortality, that teenage sense of invincibility, or even just the confidence he felt in having done this before-- something pushed his caution aside. Terry opened the door, stepped first into the cold steel cage of Angelica's lab.

Low, under his breath: ]

Where are you.

[ Overhead, the screeching of crow-monsters answered, their wings fluttering, dark beady eyes staring down at the intruders. The lights flickered ominously.

Then the glinting of sharp claws as one of the large birds flew down from its perch, striking at Terry with dagger-like talons and a viciously curved beak.

If Angelica was there, she was close and waiting, like a snake in the grass. ]

[Katurian grabbed at Terry without a moment's hesitation, his instinct to protect far greater than any fear or rage or strategy. He tried to pull him back from that grotesque bird, that thing that shouldn't exist, that--

What is that?

He couldn't bring the words to his lips, that doubt and fear. He swatted, punched at the air, the cloth soaked with ether tucked in his fist.]

Augh--

[ Terry bared his teeth, swatting at the monster bird as Katurian pulled at him, calling on his own monster, the genetic treachery that was his heritage, willing the demon to show itself--

But he couldn't. This wasn't right. This wasn't right. ]

Wait--

[ She was more predator than woman, waiting for a moment of vulnerability, a moment of chaos to show herself. She moved from the shadows of high shelves and machines, silent until she was a breath away.

The blade of her scalpel was cold against Katurian's throat when she came from behind him, her other hand like a vice around his upper arm-- and just as cold as the scalpel. ]

What a pleasant surprise.

[This was all so familiar. Angelica with the blade against his neck.

(Dear boy. Do you think that I won't hurt you?)

He was in costume this time, though, and Angelica's hand brushed against the fabric of his mask. His very, very secret mask. His identity was obscured underneath, but he suddenly felt so small.

(He'd be fine getting stabbed to death, he tried to tell himself.)

Time travel, time travel. Though he could catch Terry's eye, though he knew he should be able to dig into his past and escape, something failed in his momentum. It was as though he took a running leap and then got caught midair, his legs poised, his muscles rigid and immobile.

Something was wrong. Something caught them off guard.

He shook, trembled, and then he threw his hand over his shoulder, craning to press that cloth against Angelica's face.]

[ He froze. She was just there suddenly, somewhere between Katurian fighting beside him and that thing all claws and feathers in his face. He froze because he hadn't felt her, hadn't sensed her and she'd been so close. But her mind was closed off, as if protected by a winding labyrinth, leaving him wandering telepathically without ever finding the fears that should have risen from her thoughts to meet Nightmare's son.

There was a feeling tightening in his chest that he didn't recognize as his eyes fell to where her scalpel gleamed at Katurian's throat. It tasted bitter in the back of his mouth. It was... Powerlessness.

He was frozen, at a lost now that he suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of his own humanity-- until he saw Katurian move, that resistance making him force himself to move. He had to improvise, grabbing an empty glass beaker and smashing it on the counter, making it into something sharp before lunging at Angelica. ]

Little brat.

[ The doctor hissed as she felt that cloth brush her face, drenched in the telltale scent of ether. She twisted her head away with her teeth bared in a silent snarl, her arm moving in quick retaliation to bury her scalpel in flesh. The blade lodged itself between Katurian's collarbone and his throat, just missing the large vessels-- but close. Maybe close enough.

Angelica pulled back, shoving Katurian forward towards his charging ally. Even that brief moment of exposure to the ether made her head spin-- stupid brave little child, so very courageous even without his powers, but she so very much disliked disobedient children-- and she still had the other one to deal with. ]

You boys have been very. Very bad.

[He knew when the blade buried itself in his neck. That sudden puncture, the way the air left his lungs but couldn't quite make it up his throat. The delayed searing, horrible pain. All the same, he expected more. Thunder, slam slam. End scene, slam slam.

The blood rushing in his ears provided the soundtrack as he was knocked forward, his hands struggling for balance. He felt his weight connect with Terry before his legs crumpled.]

[ It made him stagger, made the broken glass fall from his hand when he felt the unexpected weight of Katurian hitting him. Terry fumbled to catch his friend, trying to keep him from hitting the ground too hard and sinking to his knees, trying to be careful because God, he can already see so much blood.

That distinct, unfamiliar sense of powerlessness comes again hard enough to make him feel sick. He hasn't felt this way since high school, when he was Terrance Ward, the bullied outcast, and not Terrance Ward, son of Nightmare.

He forced his legs back under himself, getting a grip under Katurian's arms and trying to pull him away -- too slowly, much too slowly -- urging Katurian with a hint of desperation he didn't know he was feeling: ]

You gotta get up. Come on. Stay with me. Can you hear me?

[ It was so very satisfying, that sweet tone of desperation she could hear in Terrance's voice, the coppery smell of Katurian's blood. They were, in the end, only children. Stripped of their powers, they were so vulnerable. So unlike their last encounter. The tables had turned.

And Angelica knew better than anyone-- bad children needed to be punished. The needed to learn.

She let Terry pull at Katurian's body. She knew they wouldn't get far. The futility of the gesture amused her. But she wouldn't make them wait long, oh no. She had something special for Terrance Ward. Angelica reached into her coat for a needle, stalking towards her two would-be vigilantes. ]

Whatever do you think you're doing, dear.

[He heard Terry's voice. And he heard Angelica's.

He wanted to tell Terry to run, that he was fine, really, but all he could manage were gurgles, sick and wet and punctuated by inhales that didn't quite go deep enough. Behind the voice modulator, they sounded inhuman, a machine's roar. He wasn't aware of the scalpel still buried in his flesh, the exposed metal handle brushing softly against Terry's shirt like gentle fingertips.

He pawed at his partner with gloved, bloody hands.]

G-Gha--

[Go. Let me go. He shoved at him, desperate. His legs slid on the floor.]

Edited 2012-03-29 14:45 (UTC)

[ He didn't know what to do. She was coming closer now, and he could hear those wet, injured sounds Katurian kept making. It made his stomach twist violently, the way it reminded him of watching MVP die back home -- his fault, like this feels, but worse this way, with Katurian bleeding out and the impending threat of Angelica's approach. He had to do something, this wasn't working.

Maybe it was the adrenaline, the desperation, but Terry knew the only way he or Katurian stood a chance of leaving alive was to deal with the doctor, and deal with her fast. Now. Before she could finish them off. He eased Katurian's body to the floor, hard eyes on Angelica, letting her get closer before he moved, suddenly, to grab another glass beaker off the counter, lunging to meet her in one last ditch shot. ]

[ She almost didn't feel the pain, so singular was her focus on killing the boy, the treacherous young demon who repaid her good will with betrayal not once, but twice. The feeling of the needle sinking into the skin and fabric, piercing Terrance's arm was sweet, and pushing the poison into his body was only that much more satisfying. She had meant to give Katurian a swift death-- the poor thing, he shouldn't have struggled-- but this, this would be a slow death. The neurotoxin would slowly spread, shutting down his muscles until his very lungs could no longer push air in and out. The boy would suffocate.

It was only then, with the needle shoved into Terry's arm, did she realize what he'd done to her. Her vision exploded into red, wetness running down her face, sharp pain where shattered glass had penetrated--

She made a hideous sound, backing away with a hiss of breath, hands clawing at the glass, pulling it out viciously, even as her fingers slipped, slick with her own blood. ]

You bastard. You nasty little half-breed. I'll destroy you--

[While they struggled, Katurian's gurgles grew softer, less frequent, until he was nearly quiet on the floor, the only sound an occasional rasping breath. His throat was a well of blood. It was getting so much harder to taste the air.

(And then the little girl choked to death on her own blood. The end.)

He fumbled for his communicator with clumsy hands. He pressed keys he could barely feel. HE IS GOING ON A TRIP, he told his pre-set filter, the people that matter. HE IS FINE.

And then he heard Angelica scream oh so beautifully and he thought Terry must have won, thank fucking god, and a part of him forgot his condition in that promised victory and so he tried to push himself off the ground.

His arms collapsed underneath him. He choked, the sound so much closer to final than the other ones he made. He noticed this, even, thought about how exciting this was now that he didn't need to worry about Terry. (So he thought.) He wanted to hear every sound he made. He wanted to hold onto every sensation, cherish every feeling in this beautiful, failing body. He could write so much.]

[ He thought it too, that maybe he'd actually gotten her, that maybe now he and Katurian would get away. But the slight stinging pain in his arm drew his attention to that needle, its contents -- whatever they were -- emptied into his system. His heart clenched. What was that? Was it poison? How long did he have?

Quickly, he ran back to Katurian, hoping that Angelica would be distracted long enough for the two of them to get away. He knelt down, shook Katurian's shoulder. ]

Hey -- hey. Come on, we gotta go.

[ He hesitated. Then reached out to check for a pulse, hoping that tingle of numbness he felt in his finger tips was just his imagination. ]

[ Terry was a dark moving blur through the haze of red and searing pain. Angelica gripped the nearest counter top, her gloves slick with blood, sharp teeth bared like the monster she really was. All that sticky sweet pleasantry, that mask of humanity-- that was gone, replaced with the deepest desire to rip Terrance's organs free from his body.

She groped blindly for a weapon, anything sharp enough to cut the boy into ribbons. ]

[He still had a pulse, but everything in him was fading fast. His breathing came out in delayed, half-chokes. Under his blood-soaked mask, his skin was white and sickly. His lips were blue. He promised himself that he would hold onto every feeling, that he would really try to appreciate what was happening to him, but within seconds he was lost in those feelings, swallowed up in the sensations like an ocean wave. Drowning.

Huh.

When Terry touched his neck, he raised his head to look at him. He managed something like a laugh (almost soundless, a pocket of air in a sea of blood) before his eyes rolled up in his head and he went down.]

[ He was shaking. Just a faint tremor. Maybe from exhaustion, or stress, or adrenaline, or the fact that Katurian had just died -- or maybe it was the poison he could practically feel his heart treacherously pumping through his all too human body. Weak. His fingers dropped from Katurian's faded pulse to grip his shoulder tightly. An apology to his corpse. An apology for what he was about to do.

Run away.

Because he could already tell his body was shutting down. He felt nauseous, his head pounding, the numbness spreading from his fingertips up his arms. He was going to die -- for real this time, if he couldn't get away from whatever it was that had killed his powers. Angelica. This place. And he could see Angelica trying to recover, still standing even with the mess of glass in her face. Terry couldn't wait any longer.

His grip tightened on Katurian for just a moment before he let go, stumbling towards the door. Struggling to make his failing body obey him enough to pull it open, staggering out into the night air. His legs felt seconds from giving out -- he just had to get as far as he could go. ]

[ She could hear the sound of the boy's staggering footsteps. The blur of his form was moving unsteadily towards the door. There was a quiet click as it shut behind him. The noise she made was a soft snarl. Fine. Run then, boy. He could get away from her, but not from the toxin already spreading through his limbs to his lungs. He wouldn't get far. And inevitably she would find him again -- and his friend, too, if he revived in the City.

She always found them. The bad children. Even Heine hadn't been able to run from her forever.

Now, it was time to heal. She would lay down behind closed doors and become a pupa, quiet and dormant for a few hours as she metamorphosed into another body. This one would regenerate, make her whole again. All the while, Katurian's body would be waiting for her. And when she awoke, she would put on a clean dress, and she would put that cooling corpse on the operating table. She would pull her favorite scalpel free from his throat. She would take off his mask, his costume-- fold them, set them aside neatly. She would clean the blood.

Then, tenderly, she would cut his still heart out of his chest. ]

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guinea pig in a twisted mouth.

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