Day 5

[ebony_mask]

Who: Black Mask and Jack Kelly
When: 7 December
Where: Black Mask's basement
Summary: Black Mask sets into motion yet another phase of his nefarious plans.
Warnings: Language

Comments

[cowboy_newsie]

[He stares dully up at Roman, his eyes half closed. He's aware, at least, of what's going on, though that doesn't mean he's entirely there.]

Didn't think . . .

[A long, slow pause.]

Didn't think you were that vain.

[It's a shadow of his earlier defiance, one that doesn't really mean anything. He's simply going through the motions-- indeed, he doesn't even bother glaring as he stares up at Roman, watching the initial effects of the blood take place.

It's oddly calming, in a way. Perhaps because it's such a familiar routine, or perhaps because there's simply no room in Jack's mind for any more horror at the moment; either way, he relaxes in his seat as he watched the first layer of skin weave itself across Roman's face.]

[ebony_mask]

[As the regenerative properties of the blood take effect, Roman barely notices Jack's detached nature. It's not quite like anything he's ever felt before; perhaps a mix of several emotions and drugs, but he doubted he would be able to achieve it again without the blood. There's not even pain as the tissue begins to reform on his disfigured face.

It's undeniably pleasant.

He lets out a laugh, grinning at Jack.]

If I'd known it'd feel like this, I'd have done this sooner.

[cowboy_newsie]

[He stares blankly up at Roman and doesn't say anything, because there isn't anything to say. Roman has won, Roman has gotten his blood, Roman has stolen god knows how many pints of it, Roman has convinced all of Canada that he is dead or gone or both. Not even Sirius believes he's alive anymore-- how could he? He has to believe he's gone, or else he would have found him by now. It's been a week (or maybe two); surely his mate would have located him by now.

So Jack simply stares blankly, impassively, not really caring.]

When will you kill me?

[ebony_mask]

[Cautiously, he brings a hand to his face, feeling the progress. It's hard to believe it's happening. He picks up the hand mirror he brought with him and watches his reflection with amazement.

He hasn't had a nose in twenty years.]

You don't get to die, Jack. Not now, not ever. You're going to stay here in this basement for as long as I'm around. Or another basement if I move.

[He looks over the mirror at Jack, sneering.]

And there's nothing you can do it about it.