Post by Cynder on Mar 7, 2011 21:27:10 GMT -5
//OOC: Rated mature for mature content. The first part is Alucard having a vision, represented by italized text. Feel free to skip to the other part if you don't want to read the first part.//
//word count: 744
//muse: Twisted Transistor by Korn
//notes: First thread in Fathom! Hoot!
Out, out, brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player, that struts and frets his hour upon the stage, and then is heard no more.
He was breaking through the surface, breeching the fog. As his eyes adjusted, he could just barely make out the shapes of people darting in and out of the cruel artificial light. They were talking, but he couldn't quite make out what they were saying. For some reason, he felt terribly groggy. It took him a moment to reevaluate his situation. They'd drugged him, so he couldn't fight or resist.
As his senses slowly returned, he could feel the unsympathetic sharpness of cold steel cuffs cutting into his wrists. How very tragic; he'd never woken up in chains before. Another thing he noticed was that he was completely naked. Treated like an animal; that was to be expected, he supposed. Bruises where they stuck needles in him painted his skin in ugly black and blue splotches, with splashes of scarlet where blood had dried. What had they done to him while he was knocked out?
Then they came, one by one, into the light once more. Each of them were faceless, and he could hear them talking. "He's awake, he's awake!" the first one crowed. "Prepare him for experiment 3," the second said. There was much shuffling around as the faceless men groped around for syringes and unusual surgical equipment. To their appeasement, he cried out in pain as they jabbed needles into his flesh, pumping stimulants into his system in order to wake him up quicker.
It wouldn't take long to figure out why. This was payback; they were taking their revenge for everything he'd done. This was no experiment, this was torture. Once he was fully awake, the faceless men appeared again. "Hand me that stake!" the third one shouted. "No, not that one! The one with the silver point!" Silver!? Even the word itself since a shiver up his bare back.
"Spread his legs! Spread his legs!" To him, it seemed like a sadistic chant. He could feel hands touching him, moving his legs until they were spread. Only when the first faceless man grabbed the stake did he know what was going to happen. During his time as king, this had been his favorite form of torture. He began to plead and pray. "Oh God! Please, don't; please don't..!" They were blissfully ignorant of his cries. Vampires were the scum of the Earth; why would being the king of them all make a difference to their intentions?
The faceless man lowered the silver-pointed stake onto the edge of the operating table. He began to struggle madly, shaking side to side in his cuffs, the clanging of the chains creating a deafening noise. But he couldn't free himself. He started to panic as the man slid the stake ever closer towards him, the shiny tip anticipating tearing through flesh and rupturing, puncturing, bursting, ripping vital organs, fracturing bones. The moment the stake made contact with skin, he screamed. It seared, it burned, and still the faceless men perservered. Upwards and upwards they pushed the stake, until it was forced through him...
The sound of his own screams woke Alucard up. He sat bolt upright, hand over his heart, hyperventilating. It was just a dream. It was just a dream. When he looked around, he found he had been laying on white marble steps to a building, which looked like a town hall. Only the parking lot several feet away was completely devoid of cars. Huh? Where am I?
It was dawn. The rising sun sent streaks of golden across the dark navy blue and purple sky, washing the outlines of clouds in sunkissed shades of yellow. "Hello!?" Alucard called, but his voice echoed. What the hell? Where is everyone? Am I dead?
//word count: 744
//muse: Twisted Transistor by Korn
//notes: First thread in Fathom! Hoot!