i am steel [closed/complete]
Characters: Hades.
Date/Time: Post death-event. So last month.
Location: His office.
Rating: R
Warnings: Violence. Torture.
Summary: Being a mob boss.
Hades sat on his ebony chair as if were still the Lord of Erebus, and he had not suffered any fall by Cronus' hand. Both of his hands were folded before him, elbows resting on the armchairs, chin resting on the back of his hands. Brown eyes stared out into the darkness of his office, not interested in the slightest in what the man by his side was whispering.
Hurried, hushed tones and the hostility was palpable in the way his man looked at the prisoner. There was not much interest in what Hades was doing, none at all. The fear said nothing, the blood was nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing. "Let there be known," Hades spoke up, knife in hand, "That I am a just boss. That I ask no more than what you can give and that I do not forgive wrongs against me."
The splatter stained his carpet.
There was screaming filling the room, silence rushing out, the transition unsettled and turbulent.
What was a scream but those vocal chords vibrating. A human-instrument, and if you cut those there is no song. The reason why Hades' next cut was precise and careful and why someone held a heated blade within his reach.
"Now, I am no surgeon, but I am sure if you make the right incision like this-"
"And that-"
"Back up again-"
"Deeper, deeper-"
"Burn to stop the blood-"
"-Voila."
Silence returned, sweeping back, covering everything. No one dared to try and disrupt his silence. His nothingness.
There was no pleasure in this torture, it was merely methodical, a way to warn those. Living messengers with broken wings had better effect at times than dead messengers heads. Let it not be known that he made it easy and granted death. Hades could always afford to be creative.
Date/Time: Post death-event. So last month.
Location: His office.
Rating: R
Warnings: Violence. Torture.
Summary: Being a mob boss.
Hades sat on his ebony chair as if were still the Lord of Erebus, and he had not suffered any fall by Cronus' hand. Both of his hands were folded before him, elbows resting on the armchairs, chin resting on the back of his hands. Brown eyes stared out into the darkness of his office, not interested in the slightest in what the man by his side was whispering.
Hurried, hushed tones and the hostility was palpable in the way his man looked at the prisoner. There was not much interest in what Hades was doing, none at all. The fear said nothing, the blood was nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing. "Let there be known," Hades spoke up, knife in hand, "That I am a just boss. That I ask no more than what you can give and that I do not forgive wrongs against me."
The splatter stained his carpet.
There was screaming filling the room, silence rushing out, the transition unsettled and turbulent.
What was a scream but those vocal chords vibrating. A human-instrument, and if you cut those there is no song. The reason why Hades' next cut was precise and careful and why someone held a heated blade within his reach.
"Now, I am no surgeon, but I am sure if you make the right incision like this-"
"And that-"
"Back up again-"
"Deeper, deeper-"
"Burn to stop the blood-"
"-Voila."
Silence returned, sweeping back, covering everything. No one dared to try and disrupt his silence. His nothingness.
There was no pleasure in this torture, it was merely methodical, a way to warn those. Living messengers with broken wings had better effect at times than dead messengers heads. Let it not be known that he made it easy and granted death. Hades could always afford to be creative.