(Untitled)

[erhabenheit]

Characters: Meth Rezza [metharchy] and Bass [erhabenheit] (CLOSED)
Location: The temple on Deck 13
Date: Present-ish
Rating: PG-16 for Bass' terrible language and Meth's cruel streak.

Comments

[metharchy]

He could struggle all he wanted, he could say what he wanted about her, but Meth would not tolerate this behavior any longer. She stepped forward quickly, until she was only inches away. She used her power to keep anything that could be moved firmly secured against the wall. A quick glance showed that his neck had some sort of soft, synthetic material on the outside. Great.

She pulled a knife out of her side leg pocket and flicked it open.

"If you cannot keep a civil tongue, and think you can speak of the captain that way as you please, then I will have to show you otherwise," she said with a gleam in her eye that spoke of how much she was going to enjoy what was coming next.

She lifted the tip of the knife up, and jammed the tip past that outside layer before dragging it down to lay his throat open to her. The mechanics inside were a mess of metal and wires that she couldn't make much sense of. It seemed safe to assume however that where it all seemed concentrated, right where a person's larynx would be, was the same place that gave him his ability to speech.

Meth had had enough of Bass' words. She reached forward, gripped the mass, and with a small bit of power to assist her, ripped it out with a grunt of satisfaction. Only then did she step back once more. Meth slowly turned her hand so she held it beneath her palm, then dropped it to the ground.

Then she stomped down on the pieces until it was unrecognizable.

[erhabenheit]

The knife didn't intimidate him -something like that couldn't pierce anything vital after all, and considering she hadn't used her powers to crush anything internally Bass was inclined to believe that all she could do was move him around some- even when it goes to his throat.

At first he was just bored. He even rolled his eyes in exasperation; when would these idiot organics learn that a slit throat wouldn't kill him? Wouldn't even compromise his functionality, even? You'd think after a-

But that wasn't her goal. Her hand dives through cables and wires, parting the soft synthetic muscle to go for his voice box, and his eyes widen and he snarls, struggling to snap at her, do something, anything-

Not his voice, not his voice, that's his that's his-!

With a screech and the snap of parting wires and metal she rips his voice box clear out of his neck. Oils and fluids seep from his throat and the shock causes some of the fluids to surge back up to his mouth, past his teeth like a golden-brown blood. She drops the device to the ground and crushes it further, destroying any chance of repairing him.

Bass had never been so furious in his life.

He snarled soundlessly, thrashing; he'd kill her, he'd kill her. He would torture her, he didn't care if she was human with some crazy powers. He would make her hurt and scream and regret ever crossing him.

[metharchy]

His reaction was exactly what Meth wanted. It satisfied a part of her that had gone unfulfilled for so long. Since her time with Sheik in AMU's clinic, actually.

Bass' soundless thrashing amused her, and she watched with fascination at the way his body reacted to the damage she inflicted. It wasn't blood and guts like she might have preferred, but it was a different kind of gore that Meth was intrigued by nonetheless.

"That's much better," she said, so obviously smug and pleased with herself. "You're much more tolerable when you can't do or say anything."

Meth turned her back on him, a clear sign that she didn't consider him threatening enough to guard against at this point, and walked over to the arm she'd discarded. She bent over, picked it up, and hefted it up to eye level. After a moment of studying it, Meth leaned it against her shoulder with casual ease and turned back to Bass.

"I'll be taking this. If you ask nicely, the Mechanic or AMU can try and fix you up with a replacement. Maybe even something better than this thing," she said conversationally, "But know that I always took the original from you. It's mine now, and I will not hesitate to take more if you decide to come after me, after this."

[erhabenheit]

Bass snarled a silent "fuck you" at Meth, teeth clicking shut. She turned her back. Took his voice, and his arm. He'll tear her arm off, her throat out, and she'll regret she ever even laid eyes on him.

Fucking whore.

Fucking bitch.

He'd already resolved to go after her again; her powers were impossible, both in how she used them and to fight against, but she had to concentrate to use them. He'd take advantage of that, get the drop on her somehow. Maybe kill her with something quick, something from a distance.

He would kill her.

[metharchy]

Meth grinned at his "fuck you" and blew him a kiss. He was furious with her. Livid. She could almost taste his hatred on her tongue, and holding his arm in her hand, well, it was all almost intoxicating.

She almost didn't care about the damage done to the temple because of what she'd done to him.

"Catch you later," she said, turning to leave the temple. As she exited the building, the hold on Bass disappeared abruptly, leaving him to drop to the hard ground below.

She was done with him now.

[erhabenheit]

Predictably, the second Bass dropped he attempting to push himself up to give chase. Unbalanced, he crashed back to the ground only to try again. He only managed a single step before he fell flat on his face.

She was too far to throw something after her, and Bass gnashed his teeth as he clutched a chunk of stone so hard it crumbled. His damages wouldn't wait any longer though; there were valves to close off, open wires to close, so many things that needed repair...

But he'd kill her.

She's dead.