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tampered2007-10-09 10:06 pm
teh-alpha-male.livejournal.com) wrote in tampered2007-10-09 10:06 pm
Log; Incomplete
When; Oct. 10th, sometime after midnight
Rating; R for gore and language probably
Characters; Richard Zeeman (![[profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
teh_alpha_male ) and Vivian Gandillon (f_lilredridinhd )[Unknown site tag]
Summary; Richard and Vivian wake up to discover they've been trapped, and the only way to get out is to help each other
Log:
Rating; R for gore and language probably
Characters; Richard Zeeman (
teh_alpha_male ) and Vivian Gandillon (f_lilredridinhd )[Unknown site tag]Summary; Richard and Vivian wake up to discover they've been trapped, and the only way to get out is to help each other
Log:
The pain was excruciating. It wasn't the worst pain he had ever been in, but it was close. It felt as if he was being stabbed clean through in some places. And his mouth, oh god his mouth...
Eyelids fluttered open and he saw instantly that he was in his classroom. It was dark outside, or at least it felt so. He was also stripped to the waist in his boxers and blood was caked on his arms, legs, and torso. Looking down he saw that he was impaled with several chains... somehow pierced through his skin. Giving a slightly moan of pain he reached up and felt where the almost unbearable pain in his jaw was coming from. A large hook somehow went completely through his jaw and was attached to another chain.
A growl of fury escaped his lips. Whatever had done this to them, they would pay. He would find them and make them pay. He wasn't without enemies in the City, but someone who would do this to him? His only thought was perhaps Millennium, but this didn't seem their style. Well, whoever had done this had underestimated him. No one violated his classroom like this.
Reaching up to the ring in his jaw, Richard strained to pull it apart, but the metal refused to budge. If motivated, Richard could perhaps lift a metric ton, but the ring wouldn't budge.
It was then that he heard the beeping. Glancing to one side Richard saw some sort of digital count down. Some sort of bomb? What kind of psycho would do something like this? Before the answer to that question came though, Richard felt another presence.
Another werewolf presence. It wasn't someone from home, but the type of lycanthropy was similar. And they were strong too. Alpha strong.
Slowly turning his head, Richard as that the other person was a young girl, trapped in some sort of razor wire cage. Richard glanced back to the count down. Not much time. And he was willing to bet whatever was going to explode was going to be something silver.
Eyelids fluttered open and he saw instantly that he was in his classroom. It was dark outside, or at least it felt so. He was also stripped to the waist in his boxers and blood was caked on his arms, legs, and torso. Looking down he saw that he was impaled with several chains... somehow pierced through his skin. Giving a slightly moan of pain he reached up and felt where the almost unbearable pain in his jaw was coming from. A large hook somehow went completely through his jaw and was attached to another chain.
A growl of fury escaped his lips. Whatever had done this to them, they would pay. He would find them and make them pay. He wasn't without enemies in the City, but someone who would do this to him? His only thought was perhaps Millennium, but this didn't seem their style. Well, whoever had done this had underestimated him. No one violated his classroom like this.
Reaching up to the ring in his jaw, Richard strained to pull it apart, but the metal refused to budge. If motivated, Richard could perhaps lift a metric ton, but the ring wouldn't budge.
It was then that he heard the beeping. Glancing to one side Richard saw some sort of digital count down. Some sort of bomb? What kind of psycho would do something like this? Before the answer to that question came though, Richard felt another presence.
Another werewolf presence. It wasn't someone from home, but the type of lycanthropy was similar. And they were strong too. Alpha strong.
Slowly turning his head, Richard as that the other person was a young girl, trapped in some sort of razor wire cage. Richard glanced back to the count down. Not much time. And he was willing to bet whatever was going to explode was going to be something silver.
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Her stomach sunk as fanned fingers clasped the weeping flesh. O, Great Moon, no... Panic threatening to erupt.
The harsh overhead florescent lighting made this man-made change glisten and gleam with a metallic malevolence. With an alarming calm, it was unmistakable to discern its twisted design: Pain. And lots of it. Much to her horror, the caged maze was laced with silver barbwire.
Astrid? She had wondered. But she dismissed the suspicion. Astrid was a devious bitch, but her cruelty was crude. This was far too sophisticated to be her handiwork. But her pondering was cut short, when first the red beeping of the clock, counting down. Whatever it was counting down, she didn’t want to be around to find out.
No way to simply twist the grid off, it was sturdy stuff as a swift exploratory kick proved so much, and she couldn’t shift let alone stand- even if the silver pain coursing through her system hadn’t made that all but impossible- there was simply no room. It would only drive the silver deep into body. She’d have to solider through. Carefully. Her clothing offered as much protection as toilet paper, and one cut too many and she wouldn’t have blood loss to worry about. She’d be dead of poison first.
Yet, Vivian sensed she wasn’t alone in terror. A werewolf? The hushed beginnings stirring, a surprised breath, and an elevated heartbeat instinctually guided her reaction. From her cage, eyes peered across the glare at his grotesque predicament.
"How fucked up is that...?" She felt the stunned words spill grimly from her lips. She wasn’t sure whom they were for really.
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Richard knew that if it came to it, he could just rip his jaw off. It would grow back on its own, although more likely one of the healers in the City would be able to do so faster. Still, it was not a pleasant though, the entire lower half of his face missing, and missing because he ripped it out. Still, it was better than whatever the bomb was going to do, he was sure of that.
In response to his claim, he gathered up several of the chains in one of his hands and yanked. A muffled growl of pain and anger passed his lips as the rings ripped through flesh, tearing through muscle and skin. The more he pulled, the easier it seemed to get, the pain reaching a point where it hurt so bad, each ring removed after that didn't really seem to matter in the grand scheme of pain.
Once they were all out Richard took a half second to steady himself before he headed over to the cage maze. The woman was young, he would be surprised if she was any older than mid twenties. She was already cut and bleeding and Richard had to take another moment to steady himself. He would not allow all the blood to arrouse him.
"If I lift this... you should be able to get out..." he told her.
Without waitng for an answer he gribbed as carefully as he could around the razorwire. It dug into his skin in several spots though and he could tell that it bore traces of sliver. His body was far too steeped in pain thoug to realy notice. With a half grunt, half growl Richard pulled back. Super-human strength caused the metal to rip and tear as he lifted it as much as he could, hoping it was enough for her to get out.
[ooc: now with the right account!]
no subject
Too bad Aunt Persia wasn’t here. She would have made quick work of those.
My turn. She knew that she had to do, but Great Moon in the night sky, was it ever going to hurt. But the inexperience of years and position did not ease the tenseness in muscles that burning in anxiety anticipating fresh damage. This maze was going to cut her raw.
"Time?" Clear and stoic her voice cut the silence. Both mentally numbing and physically psyching herself up. She would not watch the clock, but set herself to the task at hand: Mapping out her movements. There was no real easy way to do this, she thought slipping off and balling up her sweatshirt in hand. While the tank top and jeans wouldn’t provide much in the way of protection, if Vivian could use the thick shirt fabric to push aside wire, she might not be totally mauled.
Go.
Down the cage she went. Gritting her teeth as the metal links banging hard against her knees, hands coming up shifting the barbs as much as she dared, the jagged metal teeth pricking her fingers through the shirt, and slipping past her grip, combed over her body, shredding cloth and flesh left and right. Each time, she turned her head, wincingly allowing the wire to strike shoulders and legs rather than mark her face. A woman’s vanity? It didn’t matter. She was gaining ground—fast.
Almost there. Just a few more feet and Vivian be at the weakened section. But oh, did the creature look pale. As if her stomach dropping into her feet, Vivian felt a cold sweat, pink with blood across the torn flesh, chill her to the bone. Though she felt no pain- the adrenaline had made sure of that- Vivian could barely bite back the sickening feeling that seated in the pit of her stomach, and resounded with every thundering beat of her heart; however, resolute, the last few feet was a white blur and upon arrival she all but through herself backwards employing bent legs’ thrust, kicking… Once, twice... Like popping the lid of the top of a shaken soda, the weakened grid creaked, warped, and exploded under the intense pressure.
On to her feet she rose, determined hands methodically peeled back the twisted ends, widening the gap slightly, before into the breech she climbed. Manipulating her body, agilely and turning her form in a seemingly impossible fashion, she forced her birth to the cement floor below. Bloody, but free. The victory sustained her.
She rose fully. Not cutting an imposing figure in the half light, but impressive in her utter tenacity. And if she ever found the fucker that did this…
So innate the desire to protect her kind, the thought of abandoning the stranger never entered Vivian’s mind. Yet, there was no time for gentleness or niceties. She moved to him, hands grasping onto his jaw, roughly turning his chin to gleam a better look at the savage piercing, narrowing her eyes, and trying to figure how best to remove it.
"You get the top, I’ll get the bottom. If we force the metal to stretch, it’ll weaken and snap. Just like brittle taffy," she remarked, wiping the gelled gore onto her jeans, and then fastening her grip tightly on the lower loop, prepared to pull down with all her might. "Hopefully, your face won't tear off," she adds darkly.
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Almost just as sickening for Richard though was seeing the lithe form covered in blood. Urges he had always fought hard to suppress threatened to come to the surface. The blood aroused his beast, which caused him to shudder with revulsion almost simultaneously. He hated that part of his beast, more than any other. It was disgusting, but no matter what he did, he couldn't deny that those feelings were there. Thankfully, this time he had the pain of the ripped out rings to help distract them.
When she was finally through, Richard hoped that she would get to safety. It would have been the sensible thing to do. No use for both of them to get caught in the explosion. Not that Richard would have followed his own advice, but it would have been nice not to have her death on his conscience if things turned out that way.
When she roughly grabbed him about the jaw it was all he could do not to growl back at her. The alpha in him was simultaneously insulted and excited by it. Richard had to resist the urge to fight her right then and there. Even in the midst of the crisis he wanted to establish dominance.
As she grabbed the lower half of the loop, Richard grabbed the top. One way or another it was coming out, he just hoped it would be the way that hurt less and left most of his face in tact.
"If you do, it'll grow back," he reassured her even as he winced at the idea. "On three. One. Two. Three."
Richard growled with effort and pain, his muscles straining as they pulled at the ring. It felt like his jaw was going to split in half but he could tell that slowly the ring was stretching. A moment later a loud, metallic snap rung out and Richard stumbled backwards as the ring broke.
The blood ran freely down his neck and chest now but he was free with his face more or less in tact. He glanced over at the timer and saw that they only had thirty seconds to get out. Richard promised himself if they didn't make it he would do all he could to shield the young woman from the blast.
"Door," he said, pointing to the exit. He would let her go first, that way if the bomb did go of he was between her and the door.
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Exit: Stage left.
One well lodged barb and it would be all over. Knowing this, Vivian hurled them both against the nearby brownstone oasis to shelter from the blast and shrapnel; have clearing the corner, clapped hands over her ears and braced as deadly debris slammed into the surrounding buildings with the deafening strength of a force-five hurricane, sending up a thick cloud of pulverize brick, stringent chemicals, and flaming metal darkened the air like London fog. Waving away the smoke, the young woman coughed, clearing her lungs of burning miasma. Near death always had a way of hanging around a body.
Glancing over her shoulder, "Still whole?" she nonchalantly remarks, trying to dismiss the poison like so much smoke, but failed just the same. As the adrenaline burned off, every nerve synapse ignited and flared in surreal agony, but at least, she was still live to feel something. A charmed life to be sure, but now down to business, the five-foot-eight female straightens. Even as her hands struggle to dislodge fabric and metallic tormentors from the wounds too numerous to number, those steely eyes held his in a strange stillness.
"Who are you?"
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They ran from the building and as she slammed him against the wall he felt his beast react, both insulted and aroused by her handling of him. The explosion pushed any such thoughts from his head though, the ground and walls shaking as bits of concrete and brick sprayed through the air. An angry growl ripped through his lips as he thought of the destruction caused to his classroom, almost more upset at that then the attempt on his own life. If it weren't for the girl being involved, he would be more upset about that.
Once the dust had settled some, the young woman turned to Richard with her point blank question. He figured it was only fair since they had saved each others lives. That and they were both obviously alpha werewolves, which wasn't something you encountered everyday, not even in the City.
"Richard, Richard Zeeman," he said as clearly as he could with a hole through the bottom of his mouth. "And when I find out who blew up my classroom..."
The rest of his words came out as an angry snarl before he started choking on his own blood and violent coughs wracked his body. Once he was able to breath properly again he turned back to her.
"And who might you be? And we should get to the hospital," he told her. "Some of those look bad."
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But she could not deny the pounding of her heart against the boned cage of her breast, instinctually excited by the presence of a virile alpha male, who’d come through the ordeal remarkably well
blood-soaked and in boxer shorts no less. It would leave a powerful impression on any young female. But Vivian was no ordinary female and she swallowed down the unbidden thought, forcing herself into a deeper composure. She could ill afford such a display of weakness.“Richard,” her voice curled around the name, testing its strength across her tongue, before accepting its ownership with a curt nod. She’d remember it.
A name. What was in a name? Perhaps nothing… Perhaps everything. "Vivian Gandillon." The truth. She owned him that much. That much and no more. Her voice clearly rang liking the strangely familiar sound warding back the acute ringing in her ears.
The only thing that topped this strange occupation was the absurd suggestion. That they- werewolves- should visit a human hospital? It seemed a sick joke. If it was in poor taste then this little jest had the opposite effect, not inducing tension-breaking laughter but knocking the little female back a few feet. "You’re kidding...?" She paused, bright eyes carefully searching for rim shot to crest on his face, but it didn’t. It dawned on her that Richard was actually serious. As maddeningly serious as a silver bullet... Worry wormed into her gut and across her pale face. At least she hoped it was worry. As accommodating as the nameless city’s citizenry seemed, Vivian doubted they’d accept any plausible explanation for these specifically peculiar wounds, let alone offer a feasible remedy. Not to mention she couldn’t trespass on Mr. Dresden’s goodwill any time soon. She couldn’t darken his doorstep with all this bad blood. Even if this dilemma did seem right up his alley.
"I’ll lick my own wounds, thanks," Vivian stoically chided, knowingly cutting the offered remedy short. Though slick with blood and oozing pain, she gathered fresh gore on the blade of her hand and christened the manmade earth with the carnal red line. She didn’t need help. Not that sort of help. Not the help that could bring more hell down on her aching hide. Not again. She couldn’t trust them. And no more of her own kind need die for her sake. What she needed was the help- the safety- only a pack could bring. Any they weren’t here. "Are there no others..." like us? her mind added- desperately wanting to warm to the well-wished courtesy of a surrogate pack- "Sensitive to our unique condition?" wisely spoke the younger alpha.
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He also didn't miss the flare of the girl's own arousal, but it seemed to have vanished just as quickly as his own. It seemed like she was an were like himself, one who refused to be ruled by her beast.
"As for others like us... I've met several. Although to be honest you're the only one that's..." his words cut off against as another coughing fit took him. Richard would have to remember to swallow more often for a bit, at least until the blood stopped filling his mouth so quickly.
"That's so similar to the werewolves from my world. But... trust me. In a place like this, being a werewolf is no big deal. Back home I had to hide it, but here..."
He let the sentence drop, both for effect and because he had had to take a moment to gather himself. There was still a slight ringing in his ears, sometimes hyper keen senses were not an advantage, and the residual dust was causing his eyes to water and nose to itch. Even amongst the horrible torture the thought that he shouldn't sneeze crossed his mind because that would really, really hurt.
Richard glanced over his wounds once again, not happy to see that they were now full of grit and grime. Not that he could get in infection, but it would make the healing process that much longer. Not only that, but they looked like horror movie victims as gory as they were. Any normal person would have lost their mind by now but here they were, almost having a casual discussion.
"We should at least find someplace to wash the wounds out," he finally said, hoping she would agree to that much at least.