It would have been safer, smarter, to keep silent but he was confused and still gasping for air, and perhaps subconsciously Brainiac 5 thought that, even if it cost him his life, he wouldn't pretend to believe something he didn't. "Such beliefs... have no... point," he managed around attempts to suck in lungfuls of air. It occurred to him that while agreeing with Grell most likely wouldn't make the man let him go, saying such things would probably just antagonise him further and probably wasn't a good idea.
But then it looked like it wasn't possible to make Grell any more willing to kill him, as the deranged man pressed his hand against the handle of the scalpel, working at it until Brainiac 5 could feel it scraping against bone and was sobbing from the pain of it. He barely had time to process what happened next, as Grell seized his right arm and dragged it harshly upwards, aggravating the wound in his shoulder and eliciting another moan of pain. The press of a blade at his throat however was like the shock of cold water to his face. He'd figured out shortly after this had started that Grell most likely meant to kill him, but the reality of it hadn't sunk in until now. Eyes wide with fear and desperation he looked up at the older man, hoping to see something to indicate that this wasn't the end. He wasn't going to be murdered like this; afraid, alone and pathetically human.
But there was nothing but sadistic and predatory satisfaction.
Brainiac 5's left hand scrabbled at the cabinet behind him, trying desperately to find something, anything, to fight back with. Apology was both out of the question and pointless. Grell clearly only wanted it as an admission of defeat, and Brainiac 5 wouldn't allow him that satisfaction.
"In my case, it isn't belief though," Grell admitted, suddenly jabbing the scalpel through Brainiac 5's right hand. He sighed and pulled back, running a hand over his shoulder to toss his hair over it and then picked up another scalpel. The blades weren't nearly as strong as Grell would like, but the blood was all the same. Running the flat of the blade against Brainy's cheek, Grell smiled, ignoring the scrabbling hand in favor of the fear in the boy's eyes.
It was the same look that those women had just before his beautiful angel had taken their lives. When her knife fell, it was perfection. The cuts and the blood, her anger and grief all mixed in together to create the most beautiful picture he'd ever seen. For it to have ended as it had was a real shame, but that was how mortals were sometimes. "I work for Him, you see. So I know He exists, but you mortals - you have the choice to believe or not, but you cannot deny to me my own existence anymore than you can deny His."
Dragging the blade a little harder, Grell smiled as it cut a thin line into the flesh. He was restraining himself rather well, he thought, having not just taken the boy's head at the first blow. This was far more fun though, dragging it out, making him suffer. It wasn't just one cut to view a Record, it was several to create a once in a lifetime painting. Never again would the blood flow the same way. Never again would the red stain in just the same fashion.
But best to end it. He was tired of discussing belief and existence with someone who would never yield to him. Stepping back, Grell raised the blade and smirked. Pressing one hand against Brainiac's chest to make sure he wouldn't get away, Grell readied to stab him through the throat. "Not like you're listening though. And so goodnight, sweet prince - and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest!"
Brainiac 5 could hardly care about Grell's delusional beliefs of working for a god at this point, as another scalpel stabbed through his hand, splattering more blood across himself and Grell, though the other only seemed to enjoy that. He flinched instinctively at the coldness of another blade against his cheek; at first a gentle touch and then cutting into the skin as Grell pressed down harder. There was stinging pain, somehow sharper than the previous injuries and a sensation of something hot - his own blood - sliding down his cheek. The feeling was mirrored on the other side of his face and for a moment Brainiac 5 wondered if Grell had cut him there too but then he took in the prickling of his eyes and realised that he was in fact crying, an uncontrolled reaction from the fear and stress.
He, Brainiac 5, fifth of the line and one of the most intelligent people in the known galaxy, was so afraid that he was on the verge of breaking down and weeping like a frightened child.
Part of him rebelled at that and, as Grell pressed a hand to his chest and moved back to allow himself room for a killing blow, Brainiac 5's left hand grazed the edge of a bottle, latched onto it tightly, and then swung the glass bottle and its contents at his tormentor. He didn't wait to see if the attack had any effect. He was already reaching back to try and hook another container, hoping that something would give him enough space to try and make a desperate break for freedom.
Were those tears? Brainiac 5, the great and mighty 'robot' was crying? Grell almost wanted to laugh at the sight. So even little tin minds could cry. Good to know. The fear was something he hadn't tasted in awhile, but to have shaken the boy to that level? Absolutely delicious.
He moved in for the kill, but before he had a chance to strike, something hit him first. Flinching, Grell twisted away from the bottle as the glass hit him and shattered. The first thing Grell felt was shock that he'd been so careless as to let the boy get any sort of weapon in his hands. The second thing was absolute fury. What if that glass had hit his face?! If he scarred, he'd rip this boy apart in the afterlife, follow him to Hell, ressurect him, and kill him again. His face! Did no one have manners anymore?!
The third thing Grell felt, and the final, was pain. A burning, unpleasant, pain, up his arm and on his shoulder where the glass had hit. Cursing wasn't very ladylike, but he couldn't help it as he instinctively let Brainiac 5 go and jumped away, brushing his gloved hands frantically at whatever it was that was hurting him. Acid. Stupid, little brat had thrown acid at him! He was lucky there hadn't been a stronger solution in there, but it still hurt and he had to rip the sleeve off his shirt to keep it from getting on him anymore.
"You little guttersnipe!" Grell screeched, pulling a pair of scalpels out of his pocket. If he'd been angry before, now he was just enraged. "I can't believe you! You could have hit my face! You never hit a lady's face!"
The moment Grell had released him and jumped back, Brainiac 5 had moved. Adrenaline coursed through his system again, this time helping him stagger towards the door and plough through it, hissing in pain as his shoulder impacted the door sharply and jolted the scalpel still lodged there. But he didn't have time to remove it now, not with the sounds of Grell screaming at him indicating that he'd only succeeded in making the man madder.
His left hand was still gripping a second flask of something which would hopefully be useful if Grell caught up with him. And, considering the damage he'd taken so far, it was highly likely that would happen. His left shoulder was a mess, the scalpel lodged there scraping against bone painfully with each movement and it was all he could do to keep a hold of the blood-slicked glass with that hand. His right arm was faring even worse, though the scalpel had been torn free from his palm when he'd started running, it was too damaged for him to get much use from it and his right shoulder had also been badly injured.
The chances of him getting away alive where looking rather slim, but at least they were better than they had been a few moments ago. Too aware that the effects of the adrenaline wouldn't last long, Brainiac 5 pushed on into the next room.
But then it looked like it wasn't possible to make Grell any more willing to kill him, as the deranged man pressed his hand against the handle of the scalpel, working at it until Brainiac 5 could feel it scraping against bone and was sobbing from the pain of it. He barely had time to process what happened next, as Grell seized his right arm and dragged it harshly upwards, aggravating the wound in his shoulder and eliciting another moan of pain. The press of a blade at his throat however was like the shock of cold water to his face. He'd figured out shortly after this had started that Grell most likely meant to kill him, but the reality of it hadn't sunk in until now. Eyes wide with fear and desperation he looked up at the older man, hoping to see something to indicate that this wasn't the end. He wasn't going to be murdered like this; afraid, alone and pathetically human.
But there was nothing but sadistic and predatory satisfaction.
Brainiac 5's left hand scrabbled at the cabinet behind him, trying desperately to find something, anything, to fight back with. Apology was both out of the question and pointless. Grell clearly only wanted it as an admission of defeat, and Brainiac 5 wouldn't allow him that satisfaction.
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It was the same look that those women had just before his beautiful angel had taken their lives. When her knife fell, it was perfection. The cuts and the blood, her anger and grief all mixed in together to create the most beautiful picture he'd ever seen. For it to have ended as it had was a real shame, but that was how mortals were sometimes. "I work for Him, you see. So I know He exists, but you mortals - you have the choice to believe or not, but you cannot deny to me my own existence anymore than you can deny His."
Dragging the blade a little harder, Grell smiled as it cut a thin line into the flesh. He was restraining himself rather well, he thought, having not just taken the boy's head at the first blow. This was far more fun though, dragging it out, making him suffer. It wasn't just one cut to view a Record, it was several to create a once in a lifetime painting. Never again would the blood flow the same way. Never again would the red stain in just the same fashion.
But best to end it. He was tired of discussing belief and existence with someone who would never yield to him. Stepping back, Grell raised the blade and smirked. Pressing one hand against Brainiac's chest to make sure he wouldn't get away, Grell readied to stab him through the throat. "Not like you're listening though. And so goodnight, sweet prince - and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest!"
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He, Brainiac 5, fifth of the line and one of the most intelligent people in the known galaxy, was so afraid that he was on the verge of breaking down and weeping like a frightened child.
Part of him rebelled at that and, as Grell pressed a hand to his chest and moved back to allow himself room for a killing blow, Brainiac 5's left hand grazed the edge of a bottle, latched onto it tightly, and then swung the glass bottle and its contents at his tormentor. He didn't wait to see if the attack had any effect. He was already reaching back to try and hook another container, hoping that something would give him enough space to try and make a desperate break for freedom.
Reply
He moved in for the kill, but before he had a chance to strike, something hit him first. Flinching, Grell twisted away from the bottle as the glass hit him and shattered. The first thing Grell felt was shock that he'd been so careless as to let the boy get any sort of weapon in his hands. The second thing was absolute fury. What if that glass had hit his face?! If he scarred, he'd rip this boy apart in the afterlife, follow him to Hell, ressurect him, and kill him again. His face! Did no one have manners anymore?!
The third thing Grell felt, and the final, was pain. A burning, unpleasant, pain, up his arm and on his shoulder where the glass had hit. Cursing wasn't very ladylike, but he couldn't help it as he instinctively let Brainiac 5 go and jumped away, brushing his gloved hands frantically at whatever it was that was hurting him. Acid. Stupid, little brat had thrown acid at him! He was lucky there hadn't been a stronger solution in there, but it still hurt and he had to rip the sleeve off his shirt to keep it from getting on him anymore.
"You little guttersnipe!" Grell screeched, pulling a pair of scalpels out of his pocket. If he'd been angry before, now he was just enraged. "I can't believe you! You could have hit my face! You never hit a lady's face!"
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His left hand was still gripping a second flask of something which would hopefully be useful if Grell caught up with him. And, considering the damage he'd taken so far, it was highly likely that would happen. His left shoulder was a mess, the scalpel lodged there scraping against bone painfully with each movement and it was all he could do to keep a hold of the blood-slicked glass with that hand. His right arm was faring even worse, though the scalpel had been torn free from his palm when he'd started running, it was too damaged for him to get much use from it and his right shoulder had also been badly injured.
The chances of him getting away alive where looking rather slim, but at least they were better than they had been a few moments ago. Too aware that the effects of the adrenaline wouldn't last long, Brainiac 5 pushed on into the next room.
[fleeing to here]
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