(no subject)
Date: Fall 2005
Characters: Eden, Candice, Nathan, Ivy
Summary: Ivy takes her latest victim: one Flying Man. The girls from the Company rock on up in hot pursuit, and many hijinks are to be had!
Status: In progress
Very selective
Five am on Sunday morning, early enough that the sun hadn't even risen, and Nathan had to go into work to get some very important paperwork done for a case he was due to start next week.
Sometimes, he reflected as he left Heidi sleeping and got dressed quietly, he wasn't all that sure why he'd become a lawyer in the first place. The hours sucked.
The drive to a coffee place about twenty minutes away from his office was surprisingly quiet, even at this hour, but then most sane people were still asleep at this hour on a Sunday. He pulled over, intending to go pick up breakfast before going the rest of the way to his office.
That was the plan, anyway, until a short, dark-haired woman stepped out of a car that had parked just after he did, giving him a bright smile, too bright for that early in the morning.
He didn't recognise her at first, not in the semi-dark and not without an armful of suitcases. Her smile softened, and she said quietly, "it's all right, Nathan. I'm going to make everything better."
She'd planned this carefully. Taking Nathan would be harder than taking the girl in Texas had been; he was much taller than her, and outweighed her too much for her to overpower him. She let her words sink in, and then, as she'd expected, he frowned and asked, "I'm sorry, do I know--?"
She didn't let him finish the sentence, taking the two steps needed to close the distance between them and jamming the tranquiliser into his neck.
This was New York, and early at that; nobody who was around to see cared enough to react when she guided Nathan to her car, the lawyer already affected by the sedative, and shoved him into the backseat.
By the time he'd be missed, she'd have already begun.
Seven am.
She had oil set out, almost scentless olive oil that clung to her skin when she slopped a bit over the side of the bowl. She wiped off her hand almost fastidiously; it wouldn't do to have her hand slip when she pounded the nails in. She might miss and hit a vein, and everything would be over too soon for salvation.
She had nails set out, thick, strong iron nails longer than both her hands put together, because she had small hands and these nails needed to be long or they wouldn't hold. Straight and flat-headed, so that they wouldn't slide through skin and bones to let the body fall. Beside the nails, a mallet. For pounding the nails in, and for breaking legs when it was time to end it.
Rope, and a pulley system, and everything was just about set. She'd injected the paralytic half an hour ago; plenty of time for it to take effect, and the sedative was going to wear off any time soon. She'd arranged Nathan on the cross, waiting for him to wake, eager to set another soul on the path of salvation.
Oil on the eyelids.
"May the Lord forgive the sins committed by your eyes, and raise you up."
Nathan was saying something, trying to reason with her, but his words washed over her and meant little more than background noise.
Oil on the lips, fingertips catching against his teeth as he tried to jerk his head away.
"May the Lord forgive the sins committed by your lips, your mouth and tongue, and raise you up."
There was a spark of fear in his eyes. She noted it and set it aside; she didn't do any of this for the fear. It was unfortunate that they didn't realise she was saving them, but then even the Christ had been afraid, before his time of suffering.
Oil on the ears, and oil on the hands.
"May the Lord forgive the sins committed by your ears, and the sins committed by your hands, and raise you up."
Seven-thirty am.
He wasn't screaming.
She wondered, absently, if Casey would scream if he found out what she was doing. God's work, yes, but not everyone understood it, and she wasn't sure if he would, either. But it had to be done. They cried out to her, and He told her who was in need of her. The world cried out for salvation, souls weeping for deliverance, and she offered it to them. There was some pain along the way, but pain was the lot of humankind since the days of Adam. And when their bodies released them, their souls were free to be received by God, cleansed in blood and pain to be judged by their worth, not by happenstance of birth into a perversion of God's will.
"Through this holy anointing," she began, smoothing sweat-soaked hair back from Nathan's forehead and dipping her fingers, by now blood-coated, in the oil to draw a cross on his forehead, "may the Lord in his love and mercy help you with the grace of the Holy Spirit..."
Characters: Eden, Candice, Nathan, Ivy
Summary: Ivy takes her latest victim: one Flying Man. The girls from the Company rock on up in hot pursuit, and many hijinks are to be had!
Status: In progress
Very selective
Five am on Sunday morning, early enough that the sun hadn't even risen, and Nathan had to go into work to get some very important paperwork done for a case he was due to start next week.
Sometimes, he reflected as he left Heidi sleeping and got dressed quietly, he wasn't all that sure why he'd become a lawyer in the first place. The hours sucked.
The drive to a coffee place about twenty minutes away from his office was surprisingly quiet, even at this hour, but then most sane people were still asleep at this hour on a Sunday. He pulled over, intending to go pick up breakfast before going the rest of the way to his office.
That was the plan, anyway, until a short, dark-haired woman stepped out of a car that had parked just after he did, giving him a bright smile, too bright for that early in the morning.
He didn't recognise her at first, not in the semi-dark and not without an armful of suitcases. Her smile softened, and she said quietly, "it's all right, Nathan. I'm going to make everything better."
She'd planned this carefully. Taking Nathan would be harder than taking the girl in Texas had been; he was much taller than her, and outweighed her too much for her to overpower him. She let her words sink in, and then, as she'd expected, he frowned and asked, "I'm sorry, do I know--?"
She didn't let him finish the sentence, taking the two steps needed to close the distance between them and jamming the tranquiliser into his neck.
This was New York, and early at that; nobody who was around to see cared enough to react when she guided Nathan to her car, the lawyer already affected by the sedative, and shoved him into the backseat.
By the time he'd be missed, she'd have already begun.
Seven am.
She had oil set out, almost scentless olive oil that clung to her skin when she slopped a bit over the side of the bowl. She wiped off her hand almost fastidiously; it wouldn't do to have her hand slip when she pounded the nails in. She might miss and hit a vein, and everything would be over too soon for salvation.
She had nails set out, thick, strong iron nails longer than both her hands put together, because she had small hands and these nails needed to be long or they wouldn't hold. Straight and flat-headed, so that they wouldn't slide through skin and bones to let the body fall. Beside the nails, a mallet. For pounding the nails in, and for breaking legs when it was time to end it.
Rope, and a pulley system, and everything was just about set. She'd injected the paralytic half an hour ago; plenty of time for it to take effect, and the sedative was going to wear off any time soon. She'd arranged Nathan on the cross, waiting for him to wake, eager to set another soul on the path of salvation.
Oil on the eyelids.
"May the Lord forgive the sins committed by your eyes, and raise you up."
Nathan was saying something, trying to reason with her, but his words washed over her and meant little more than background noise.
Oil on the lips, fingertips catching against his teeth as he tried to jerk his head away.
"May the Lord forgive the sins committed by your lips, your mouth and tongue, and raise you up."
There was a spark of fear in his eyes. She noted it and set it aside; she didn't do any of this for the fear. It was unfortunate that they didn't realise she was saving them, but then even the Christ had been afraid, before his time of suffering.
Oil on the ears, and oil on the hands.
"May the Lord forgive the sins committed by your ears, and the sins committed by your hands, and raise you up."
Seven-thirty am.
He wasn't screaming.
She wondered, absently, if Casey would scream if he found out what she was doing. God's work, yes, but not everyone understood it, and she wasn't sure if he would, either. But it had to be done. They cried out to her, and He told her who was in need of her. The world cried out for salvation, souls weeping for deliverance, and she offered it to them. There was some pain along the way, but pain was the lot of humankind since the days of Adam. And when their bodies released them, their souls were free to be received by God, cleansed in blood and pain to be judged by their worth, not by happenstance of birth into a perversion of God's will.
"Through this holy anointing," she began, smoothing sweat-soaked hair back from Nathan's forehead and dipping her fingers, by now blood-coated, in the oil to draw a cross on his forehead, "may the Lord in his love and mercy help you with the grace of the Holy Spirit..."