Subject: Inner Strength, Chp 2 [[NSFW]]
Author:
Posted on: 2012-09-30 03:31:00 UTC

[[WARNING! Please, for the love of all that is holy, do not read this story if you are easily squicked by violence, blood and gore. Seriously. I am not even kidding. You have been warned. -Phobos]]


Profile: DystopianUtopia is a fan writer in the PPC fandom. He thinks the PPC fandom skews too sharply toward the "shiny". He is out to fix that. He likes talking about himself in the third person.

--------------------------------------------

Category: PPC
Inner Strength Chp 2
Genre: Horror/Tragedy
Rating: M
Summary: The continuing adventures of Ithalond as he exacts justice for the wrongs that have been done to him.

[[If you want to know where this came from, read the first one. Link]]

Agent Suicide arrived in the Department of Fictional Psychology for his annual evaluation. He walked through the mostly empty hallways looking for Jenni Robinson's office. He really had begun enjoying these evaluations since she had taken him on. He was looking forward to a chance at some alone time with Jenni, clinical though it may be.

As he approached the door to Jenni's office he could hear someone talking within. She must still be with another patient. Suicide knocked politely to announce his presence and waited for a response. However, all the noise inside the office ceased at his knock and no reply was forthcoming.

Every warrior instinct that Suicide had was screaming that something was not right here. He knew he should listen to those instincts, but his concern for Jenni drowned them out. He threw open the door and stood in shock at the scene.

The room was dark, but the light through the open door illuminated Jenni Robinson in a spreading pool of her own crimson blood. The blood was flowing from a large, ragged hole in her abdomen. Suicide took a step and his foot impacted something small and wet. It was Jenni's uterus. Several other organs could be seen around the body, as if they had been discarded.

The Scythian warrior's own bloody past could not shield him from the sight of Jenni's mutilated corpse. He had seen many gruesome wounds in his time on the battlefield, but those had been warriors. They had been men who knew that they might be called at any time to lay down their life for their people. The thought of anyone doing this to a woman, and a healer besides, was beyond imagining. Suicide had to hold back the bile that was rising in his throat. Someone was going to pay dearly for this.

He flicked out a hand to turn on the lights. As his eyes adjusted he heard a whimper from the corner. He turned and saw the cowering form of an elf, with silver hair, who was facing the wall. The Scythian recognized his old partner, Ithalond. That the Elf should be here did not surprise the Greek. Ithalond was just as in need of Nurse Robinson's attention as anyone else. Probably more than most. Finding him cowering in the corner of a room full of blood was also not unexpected. The Elf was known for his squeamishness.

As Suicide slowly approached the Elf alarm bells were ringing in his head. He didn't hear them; his instincts were clouded by the loss of one friend and concern for another.

"Ithalond, can you tell me what happened here?" No answer. The warrior stepped closer. "Who did this?" Silence. He was almost close enough to touch Ithalond's silver hair. "Damn it, Elf, answer me!"

Suicide's anger broke through the fog and he realized how much he had missed. Bloody footprints moving toward the light-switch. Those same tracks leading to the Elf. It didn't make any sense. The Scythian's instincts screamed at him. He jumped back just as Ithalond lashed out with one blood-covered, cybernetic hand. Had he been any slower, the Elf would have shattered his knee cap.

--

Ithalond growled deep in his throat when Suicide avoided his surprise attack. Fate had delivered one of those who had tormented him for so long and Ithalond would make sure that he did not waste this chance. The Scythian must be made to pay for every moment of Ithalond's prolonged pain.

The Elf rose gracefully from the floor, and smiled at his "old friend". It would have been a warm smile, if not for the cold malevolence radiating from his eyes and the gore dripping from his cybernetic hands.

"Suicide," said the Elf, "how good of you to join us. Jenni and I were just exploring her inner strength."

"Have you lost your mind, Ithalond? Why would you do this?" The Scythian was on his guard now. The Elf was no warrior, so Suicide should be able to subdue him with little problem, but something behind Ithalond's voice worried him. There was an edge of cold steel hidden behind the fake warmth of the Elf's speech.

"Why would I do it?" spat the Elf, the chilling edge in his voice sliding closer to the surface. He circled his sometimes partner with a maniacal gleam in his eye. "She helped them keep me alive after the loss of my hands and the terrible that I was forced to endure. You, my friend, are guilty of that and more." He snarled and lept at Suicide.

The Scythian was prepared this time. He turned aside the Elf's cybernetic claw with his own augmented hand and brought his leg around to take Ithalond down quickly.

But Suicide was not as nimble as he once was. Ithalond dipped down and caught Suicide's foot with his other hand. There was a sickening crunch and the ancient warrior screamed.

Suicide was not going to let this terrible pain to stop him from avenging his love. He brought his elbow down on the side of the Elf's head. Ithalond gave a shout and let go of Suicide's foot. Blood began to stream from the wound.
"I am going to kill you for what you've done, Ithalond," the Scythian promised. "I will deliver you, personally, to the ferryman!" He kept his weight off of his crushed foot and lashed out with his augmented hand.

Ithalond darted back with a rabid smile. He knew that Suicide's mobility was severely hampered. The Elf could take his time and make this last.

"Suicide," taunted Ithalond. "I have so much to thank you for." He gave a feint to get Suicide's cybernetic hand to move to block. When it did, the Elf spun and his own mechanical appendage slammed into Suicide's forearm. There was a sound like a tree branch breaking in a high wind. Ithalond danced back and Suicide did everything he could to remain conscious as blood ran from where his bones protruded from his forearm.

"That was for the constant hectoring." explained the Elf. His voice was entirely edge, now. "And this, is for the Dibbler pie." Ithalond brought his hands down onto Suicide's shoulder and his upper arm. Suicide tried to fight the Elf's metal grip, but even the old strength of his muscles failed as Ithalond ripped the Scythian's arm from its socket and completely off of his body.

Suicide would have wailed had he not been so far into shock. He was barely staying upright as Ithalond moved around behind him.

"Oh, Suicide, how the mighty have fallen. But don't worry old friend, I've learned the lessons you tried to teach me." He dug his cybernetic fingers into the flesh of Suicides back. "After all, you've always said I should get some backbone." He tensed his muscles, servos in his hands whined and he removed Suicide's spine. The Scythian fell, lifeless, next to his love.

Ithalond tossed the spinal cord onto Jenni's couch and stood for a moment in the silence. His hands twitched and dripped gore. His breathing was ragged and there was a hint of maniacal laughter.

The Elf moved suddenly. He paced through the pool of combined blood from the now deceased lovers. "Why should they be the only one's to pay?" He stalked out of the office and into the halls of Headquarters.

A/N: I don't really care if you review or not. I'm not writing this for you, anyway. -Dystopian
Utopia

[[I had about half of this written at the end of last year's badfic game, and I started working on it again when I heard the game was going to start up again. That said, this still took me about 5-6 days to finish. Ponyrella96 and D4rkm0k are easy. This is a whole other animal.

-Phobos, who wouldn't recommend trying this]]

Reply Return to messages