capeandcowllogs | It beats in more than one chamber.

It beats in more than one chamber.

WHO: Edward Nygma and Lust.
WHERE: ROOFTOPS TO OSRIDDLERCORP.
WHEN: August 3rd; nearing midnight.
WARNINGS: This ship lives to annoy Leah.
SUMMARY: Eddie is Greed. Eddie wants his darling Lust. The not-Tony one.
FORMAT: Whatever.

It was different. She was different. He couldn’t really sense her like he could the others, he couldn’t feel her greed. It was as if she lacked that concept entirely. Which made sense, of course, given her moniker and the evidence that Edward had already collected on the homunculus; but nevertheless, tracking her wasn’t as easy as it could have been. With everyone else, with Osborn and his followers, he could just psychically reach out and touch them. He could puppeteer their strings, their wants and desires, and ignite that.

But not with Lust the homunculus. And wasn’t that really rather telling?

However. Edward was not without contingency plans. He had spies all around the City now, eyes and ears to control at his whim. And logically, Lust would want to stay above the fray. Above the chaos. She would want to observe.

The first place he sent his minions to scour were the rooftops. He had her location within the hour. He kept his loyal disciples nearby, ready to infuse within them the same craving he felt now. The same desire. The same want.

And Greed was used to getting what he wanted.

“Hello, Lust.” Edward drawled, his hands in pockets, as he strolled to her. Red eyes fixated on her. “You’ve been expecting me. You heard me coming. And yet you remain. I do like that.”

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Everything about this was repulsive. She had repeated it so many times already, and so flippantly--that Mr. Stark was positively ruining her reputation, and whatever would she do now--that it had taken on the dimensions of a joke, but the disgust was real and near to boiling over. The sins were everything she had been combating against, ever since Greed and the Elrics had destroyed Solaris as an option. People made assumptions, and she corrected them shortly; these things reveled in confirming every idiotic stereotype ever leveled against them. She knew some of what it was to be what they were, given her creation, but there was nothing that Lust valued more about herself than her self-control. And the merit of that was something that this perversion of Greed and his idiotic subordinates knew nothing about.

Of course, she was purer as a force than any of them, powers of incitement aside. She felt emotions, yes, and perhaps they could be termed "sins", in that narrow, stupid human fashion. It didn't matter. What powered her existence was nothing but Father's specific imperfection; one of the first he had removed, in fact. Lust had no underlying humanity to overcome, no inclinations to push to the side. Inconvenient as it often was, she was her maker's longing in a single lovely package. It must have made her hard to read, so much the better--emotion was nothing when the core that they stemmed from was so focused on want. And that would give her some advantage in dealing with him.

But not enough.

She raised her eyebrows at Mr. Nygma, who she refused to address, even in her mind, as Greed. His manner, in his own pathetically flamboyant way, was disgustingly similar--had been since the day she met him--but in all key respects they were different.

"And of course my intent was to please you."

Unlike her little brother, the Riddler would not die laughing.

Edited 2009-08-04 15:39 (UTC)

"Mmm, sarcasm is so delicious this time of evening. Wouldn't you agree?" Edward smiled lightly and strolled closer to his claim. It was no secret that he wanted to possess her. He had been nervous, initially, about his brother of her name; his siblings did have a manner of taking his toys, and that was ever so discouraging. But it was within his nature to attain what he wanted, to fulfill his needs. And, oh, did he ever need this victory.

"Enjoying the view?" He assumed a position right by her side. But didn't touch her. Edward wasn't crude; he was still his intelligent, eccentric self who happened to share the same form with a cardinal flaw. He didn't see it as possession; after all, it was he who possessed. Not vice versa. He was never to be owned, and that was his privilege.

"The populace is mine, for the most part. So easy to control, really, when you realize this isn't a blunt object, nor a slicing sword, nor the unforgiving poison-- like envy. It's a crown. And this is my kingdom." He looked to her, four eyes glowing with anticipation. A slight shrug followed before he returned his gaze to the cityscape before them.

"Funny how things work out, isn't it? This must irritate you, of course; conceptual sins melding with humanity. But you are not Pride. You'll live." He paused, tilting his head, still squaring his gaze down below. "You have options. Which do you choose, my dear Lust?"

Oh, this was just too much. Lust didn't bother responding to any of the initial drivel; he didn't really need that, after all. He wanted to talk for the purpose of talking. When did the idiot not? And the lack of contact didn't make her position any less revolting; if anything, it was worse. She would have, at least, have been in her own territory with Mr. Stark.

He had mentioned having a mild healing factor thanks to the nanites, which should complicate things annoyingly--or would, were she planning on killing him. Which she was not. She was waiting for a more opportune moment. When it happened, she wanted him fully aware, to know exactly what was coming. The man was a coward, and she planned to use that to its full extent; in this altered state, doing so was just as impossible as going with him willingly.

"You already know my answer," she said. There was no purpose in concealing the disgust in her voice. "By all means, stop talking and act on it."

Edited 2009-08-05 03:41 (UTC)

Edward rolled his eyes. Not like that was easily discernible, given the fact he lacked pupils, but he was still human enough to indulge in that gesture.

"How vaguely melodramatic. Wait a moment as I retrieve my monocle and twirl my devastatingly improbable mustache." Edward smirked and cracked his neck. He psychically reached out again to his minions he had already called, and seeped into those now surrounding the area. Fifty, sixty, a good seventy-something heeded his command. Their new target of desire? Lust, of course.

"You've always had the mundane propensity of underestimating me. I find it amusing, actually." Edward strolled away from her, hands still in pockets. "But I will take you, whether you realize this now or not." In fact, Edward's speech was a guise masking his motions; one Lust easily fell for. But that wasn't extraordinary, as everyone always did. Such was his benefit of being an under-appreciated genius; people around him did stupid things like consistently underestimate, despite the more than obvious evidence in view. That's what made them such willing pawns. It was sort of precious to Edward, in the way that children and kittens are precious to normal people.

They filled into the building, onto the nearby rooftops. Waiting. His puppets.

"Want to chat about anything else, or are you good to go?"

Edited 2009-08-05 06:03 (UTC)

"I think I'm fine," Lust said, smiling, and then she ran off the edge of the rooftop and jumped. And landed, several stories later, on her feet. In stiletto heels. She wasn't Envy by any means, but it was surprisingly easy and she was surprisingly graceful. There was some unpleasant shifting and pressure in the bones and joints of her legs, but it fixed itself near-instantly, and then she was running.

She underestimated him constantly. Sometimes she remembered herself enough to make adjustments, and sometimes--as tonight--she did not. She was almost beyond being irritated by his pointing it out, it happened so frequently. Right now, it didn't matter in the slightest.

All that she cared about was the human puppets which would rise to meet her, and the prospect that they carried with them--that of murder. It had been a while.

Oh, how he loved when they performed. Really, it was such an enticing sight, watching her move with such grace. Such power. Edward knew he had chosen well, when he set his sights upon Lust. And that made him want her even more. The craving was insatiable now; he wanted to own her. Needed to possess her.

He extended this desire to his puppets, inciting near-rabid degrees of want within them. Want for Lust. A group of five--two men, three women, all athletic build--surged forward, clawing for her. Seeking her with wanting, needing fingers. Behind them, more cautious groups gathered a few necessary tools: a crowbar here, a gun there.

But really, they didn't matter. Not the individuals. Edward was counting on their sheer numbers to subdue his prize.

He would later, Lust realized, have a fuller idea of her capabilities because of this. It was a shame--she'd been looking forward to one of those brief, pathetic flashes of unguarded shock. But it would still be satisfying enough if she made it truly painful, which she certainly would. At any rate, there was no time for those considerations. The human mob was approaching, fast and stupid with need, and she was not going to let them touch her.

So she did what she did best.

She sliced through them, piercing skulls and spines and hearts like spun sugar, and she was content for a moment, but they kept on coming. That was annoying, but excusable. After all, Lust was far more than human. She could keep her work up for as long as it was needed.

Couldn't she?

Perhaps. If the onslaught was diminishing. But it wasn't; for every heart gouged out and every head decapitated, Edward simply summoned more individuals to fill what their fallen comrades left behind. After all, he was the embodiment of more; nothing would satisfy him.

Until he possessed Lust.

He folded his hands behind his back, casually gazing down at the slaughter. Oh, Lust. No matter how many innocents she murdered, he would simply continue to beckon more. And perhaps the best part? Neither he nor she would be accountable for this measure. Because people--especially self-righteous people didn't really care about the welfare of humanity outside their own sphere of existence. More, more, more, me, me, me. It was an intrinsic patter hardwired into every single one of them.

And Eddie loved it.

"Having fun?" Edward called to Lust.

Lust just barely rolled her eyes as she continued her efforts, moving forward as much as she could (which was, considering that she was completely surrounded by the mob, not particularly impressive.) It would do no good if she allowed herself to be blocked in by their bodies, after all. Did they ever end? The sheer human mass in this city was still surprising, given how many casualties it must have suffered since the advent of the Porter, and while she didn't tire easily, neither did they. If she slipped up for long enough--no. This was the real problem, wasn't it? She was thinking about what was effortless. She should be acting.

That was something Eddie liked to refer to as the Gotham Conundrum: why live in a city wrought with death and blood and psychopaths? Hell of a riddle, wasn't it? Because of circumstance. Because people were, for the most part, creature of habit. Because they chose to endure, out of pride or lack of sense, and thus reaped the consequence.

It was no different here.

As blood painted the streets, he mused to himself. Lust may have been a formidable foe and, if his legion were less in mass, she would have had no trouble defeating his efforts. But that just wasn't how things were. It was almost precious, in a way, how direly she fought. Each second of delay, however, only inciting his craving to own her. Such was his immediate nature.

Their blood really was beginning to make quite the mess; although it always came off her skin in due time, the spatter across her cheeks didn't appear to be going anywhere soon. And they were gaining.

She could delay this for quite a while, but eventually, they would go for her feet or knock her off balance, and she would be finished. She knew it, and she was furious. Lust, more than almost anything, hated to lose. She had accepted defeat before; she had accepted the ultimate defeat once. But this thing was no Mustang, and this occasion was not one to which she would surrender. Droll as he must find her struggle, and futile as it was, there was no way she would submit to this pathetic excuse for a man.

He sighed. Must she be so persistent? Well naturally; he wouldn't have been as enamored otherwise, given--

A pause on that thought. Enamored? Bit strong of a word, wasn't it? Oh, Edward would willingly admit to obsessed--but only in private and never to himself--but enamored had that pesky root word of amor within it and that simply was not conducive. He was fascinated by Lust. He wanted to know what she knew. And that was the extent. Correct?

With a clench of his fist, Edward beckoned the remaining of his number to jump onto Lust, creating a need to make her pliable. Retrained.

Obedient.

She hadn't been expecting that, despite the sense of inevitability, so when a heavyset man sprang into her back, she--didn't fall, because she refused to fall, but staggered. And that moment of lost balance was enough. They were on her in seconds, and even as she lashed out, even as their grips slacked and they bled out on her, there were always more taking their place.

He had won. Not on any merit of his own, because that would be far too much to expect from a man like Mr. Nygma, but even so. Now what?

Now he gloated. Clearly, he gloated. Edward was a man content to achieve his goals through the manipulation of others, certainly, and what was truer to that sense than literally controlling masses of poor souls? Really, it was marvelous. And now he stood upon his ledge, looming about, his posture radiant and smug in victory.

"Question: how do you physically overpower a homunculus?" Edward smirked, clearly pleased with himself. "Helluva riddle, isn't it?"

He ordered his faithful minions to carry her back. Edward had the perfect placement for this sort of prize.

She was not going to go quietly; he had to expect that much at least. They were moving her, yes, but the loss of manpower was painfully obvious and growing still; and who could blame her for her actions? This many hands on her, the loss of control; it was exactly the kind of disgusting sensation she had avoided Central Park over, and it wasn't even pleasurable.

She stared upwards, not seeing him but knowing that he must see her, and kept her face expressionless. And spoke.

"You really have no idea," she said, "how much you will regret doing this."

The statement was entirely true. Was that lie-detector capability still something he cared about, in this state? It didn't matter, of course, but at least she could say she had warned him.

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It beats in more than one chamber.

MY KEYWORDS ARE TOPICAL AGAIN

LE GASP!

Re: LE GASP!

Re: LE GASP!

no subject

ORDERING ME AROUND.

/slowly puts down hanger

shit a hanger... oh god why...

NO WIRE HANGERS EVER

THAT MOVIE IS FRIGHTENING

YOU CAME BACK :D /LEAPS ACROSS FIELDS IN YOUR DIRECTION

/EMBRACES UNDER THE WARMTH OF THE SUN, IN FIELDS OF GREEN

.................................. :|

i guess physical threats on my person provides good motivation

i hate you so much