(no subject)
When; Uh, I'd say Friday night.
Rating; R for violence and language.
Characters; Rem Saverem (mother_rem) and Amanda Young (notjigsaw
Summary; Amanda is butthurt over getting killed by Wolfwood after she trapped him. So she's stalking those around him. And Rem was, like, totally asking for it, amirite?
Log;
Stumbling was never exactly a good thing, and Rem couldn't figure out why she was stumbling at all. The times she drank to actually get drunk were far and few between, and when she had agreed to go out with Amanda, this had not been one of those times planned. Why would she? Amanda was an acquaintance who wanted to get to know her better, so why not, right? Some nice talk, a few laughs maybe. Somewhere through the night, though, things started getting confusing, and Rem's memory wasn't being the kindest thing to her as she rested her hand on the wall as a means of support, clearly trying to hide it. She wasn't very good at that, as shown by how she was having to squint her eyes a bit too much to make out the woman in front of her.
"...Amanda?" her uneven voice called out, "You still there?" Why was it so hard to see? Was it this dark when she went in?
Amanda Young played along with her. It would have been a bit awkward if they both weren't, if someone had been attempting to count their drinks. Rem Saverem looked entirely blown out of her mind, when the sad reality was that it was simply the rohypnol slipped a bit too easily in Rem's drink when they were delivered. She was a blind little cunt, wasn't she? The whole fucking lot of them were fucked up in some way or another.
She had some traps that would need a little modification, but she'd use the knowledge gained in her conversations with Rem as an excuse to get back at the fuckface priest.
Wobbling convincingly in front of her, Amanda reached over and grabbed Rem's hand to tug her from the wall and completely from the building. "Right here~" she said in singsong. She should have won an academy award for the performances she could put on, Amanda thought bitterly as she pulled. "Sorry, I think I had a little too much. But I think I'm better than you to get us a taxi." Car in the alley.
The tug nearly pulled Rem to her feet, catching herself on Amanda's arm with her free hand. But, she let herself be easily pulled along.
"I think we did," she stammered out dazily. She could feel something wasn't quite right, but she shook it off as just her usual paranoia. Things were fine. It took quite a few moments for what Amanda had said to sink in before she laughed a little, "Yeah yeah, you are~" she sing-songed back, finally letting go of the girl's arm and walking alongside her, albeit like a true drunkard would.
Jesus Christ. It was almost something that would have taken Amanda aback for a moment, just months ago. But this was serious fucking business. Not only did Rem seriously warrant what Amanda had in store, this served as a prelude of things to come to Wolfwood. Being cautious and mindful of John's wishes were cast to the wind after she fucking died because of him. They weren't lying that you don't stop ever being cold.
Twirling with a swagger at the alley nearby, she held a finger up and smiled at her company. "You~ stay here." The last emphasized word was accompanied with Amanda pointing at the ground under Rem's feet. "And I'll be back so soon you won't know what hit you, m'kay?" Understatements were wonderful things.
No. No, she shouldn't stay there. Unknowingly drugged or not, that instinctive sense of hers of when something bad was about to happen was kicking off. But to move very far, that would have taken more energy than she could have given. What was Amanda saying? 'Be back soon to get you'? Was that it? Maybe. She couldn't really think very well. Straight. Something right now.
The things before her started melting into blotches of dark colors, hardly distinguishable until they were almost directly in her face. But at Amanda's words, she nodded, closing her eyes for a moment because that kept the headache building up from being too much. Maybe waiting would be a better idea.
Rem's eyes fluttered shut, and down the alley, Amanda darted. The car was there, and there was hardly anyone in the immediate area. Everything was in perfect condition for this, but she had to make sure that despite she being the last one that Rem saw before what would happen next, that if Rem managed to recollect anything at all from this point on until the drugs wore off, that it wouldn't be Amanda.
Piled messily in the trunk was her City substitution for the cloak and mask she wore back home to obtain test and trap subjects for the games. A red cloak, made with a strong and versatile fabric to hold up with her abuse of it, gloves to hide fingerprints, and the crude rubber pig's mask--fit with a black wig and really something coming out of a movie featuring humans dressed as sacrifical animals, prancing around shamelessly in horrific display. All these items were quick to be pulled on, and as soon as they were settled, she poured herself a rag of chloroform anesthetic, and she was quick on her way back to her "friend".
Having to make sure Rem would see the masked form attacking her, just in case, Amanda grasped Rem by the shoulder and pulled her around roughly to face her, before diving in to press the rag to Rem's mouth and nose.
Rem's mind was trying to keep herself awake, ready for whatever this gut wrenching feeling was coming down on her, but the drug she'd been given was making it nearly impossible for her to even consider that being left alone in this state in an alley was not safe at all. Instead, her mind seemed to think this was a very logical idea, as Amanda had said herself she was going to go get a taxi. Nevermind that they could have just called for one right there. That kind of logic was the furtherest thing in the woman's thought processes.
And then she felt a jolt -- something pulling her to one direction, and the thing in her face was most certainly not Amanda. She would have let out a scream if something hadn't suddenly been pressed to her face, leaving only enough time to take a breath and inhale the chloroform at the same time. Her instincts were to fight it off, her head squirming trying to break away from that rag enough to scream help or murder or something. She tried to thrash out against the attacker, but the drug that had already taken refuge in her system made it nearly impossible to do. The only thing that came of it were sluggish movements and muffled sounds before she finally became slack and her eyes closing, almost peacefully.
The woman went slack and Amanda was immediately pulling Rem into her and wrapping her arms around her neck, tugging her towards the car waiting in the alley. Fortunately, the momentum of the tug was enough to allow easy movements out of the public eye entirely, before Rem's body fell to a level that was too heavy to do anything but hook under her shoulders and drag her over to the side of the car.
Not having had the foresight to open the cardoor before doing this, Amanda hoisted her up to prop her halfway over the backhood as she went to open the door. She was also partially planning to let her arms, trembling from the strain (not because Rem was heavy, but because Amanda wasn't exactly a weight lifter) as she swung the door open, but that was blown out as the body of her victim slipped off the hood and piled to the concrete heavily.
"...fuck," she muttered. Stupid bitch was difficult even unconscious. It took more straining to get the brunette into the backseat, but once she did, and Amanda could get into the front seat, she stripped the mask off and took a deep breath. The drug and the alcohol, along with the chloroform, guaranteed enough time for Amanda to get her to the warehouse and get her hooked up to the trap.
Maybe she'd take a picture for the fucking priest.
How long ago was it when she was at Lux with ...who was it? Amanda, right? Rem's head seemed to roll heavily from one side to the other as she tried to piece her memories together, though unsuccessfully. Her head was killing her something awful and she wasn't entirely sure why. Her eyes slowly opened, everything a blur before they slowly began to sort out the shapes in front of her, her other senses kicking in shortly after.
She was sitting. She was sitting in a chair, and wherever she was, it was dark. Rem already didn't like that. She hated dark places. But her head was swimming too much from the drug to form any kind of coherent thought for a few minutes. She squinted her eyes and looked this way and that, trying to get some kind of understanding of where she was.
It suddenly occurred to her that while she was sitting, she was incredibly uncomfortable. It felt like there was something holding her shoulders down. Without any second thought, she reached to shove whatever it was off -- maybe the cats? they had that habit sometimes of just sitting on her shoulders -- but found it wasn't a cute furry animal. Instead it was cold metal. This came as a realization at the same time she realized she wasn't at home, or anywhere she could recognize in the darkness.
"No," she whispered shakily to herself. This was too familiar. She couldn't fully remember why or how, but she knew something like this had happened before. And it sent her hands trembling uncontrollably as she still grasped the metal thing on her shoulders.
She was just off, out of sight and in the shadows of the spacious room devoted to this event. Slack and comfortable, she was teething a piece of fresh gum as she did a crossword puzzle on her lap. In her one hand, a small voice manipuation device was toyed with, bouncing thoughtfully as she worked.
When the small shuffles of life came into earshot and she stopped and looked up. Huh. About time. She was beginning to wonder if she put the woman into a coma with everything. Wouldn't have been the first time, honestly. But she was up, and moving, and Amanda was happy to know it.
Smuggly, the voice manipulation device was clicked on and placed up to her mouth. "Hello, Rem Saverem.
"All your life has been devoted to second chances and giving every opportunity you can to those around you. To instantly forgive past transgressions and attempt to look forward, look to the future and keep walking forward. You have, in a sense, left yourself completely blind to the dangers that the past ignored can create. People have been hurt and people have died because of your perpetual optimism that people can change.
"Rem Saverem, I want to play a game. This night caters to your belief that everyone can change. But tonight, it will be you left to change. Will you continue to exist, blind, or will you fight into a new stage of your life by reaching for the keys to your future? Above you is a tray hosting your first key. Reach for it, and claim it, and release yourself from the binds on your shoulders. The next key is in a place as different as Hell is to Heaven." Fluffy fucking-ass allusions.
"A communicator, as you can see, stands across from you on a stool. I'm sure if you stand up, you might be able to reach it, as well. But will someone find you in time? Time is ticking. Make your choice."
Rem's eyes were wide as the voice faded into the darkness, nothing but disbelief clouding her mind. Why? Why why why WHY No, she knew this. The same setup, the same kind of introduction, it was the exact same. Her whole body shook as her gaze drifted down to the harness she had been adorned with while unconscious, a new sense of anxiety, before falling forward to the small stool and the communicator sitting so innocently atop it. It was a trap. She knew it was. There was some trick, there had to be. But she needed help. Taking a look around made it obvious no one else was visibly in the room -- something she was grateful for. No one else would be involved like last time, during that curse... Rem shook her head quickly, refusing to let herself think about that night. Her thoughts had to be on the here and now, and how to get out of this. She had to make herself calm down and think clearly, or as clearly as she could right now.
There was the communicator -- she could try to get help. Rem looked upwards, to a flat tray hanging from the ceiling with the keys to the locks that held her. Either way, she would probably trigger something if she tried to get either one. Whoever it was that was speaking to her had to have been keeping something secret, she just wasn't sure what. She tilted her head up to the tray again, idly wondering if there was really a key there waiting. There was no way of telling; the tray wasn't on eye level. Maybe she could reach the table? It was worth a shot, as long as she didn't move too much, right?
Taking great care not to pull herself forward too far, she reached her arm out to the table -- too far. She looked around and then leaned forward just an inch or two and she still couldn't reach it, but she could feel something heavy holding her back, like a weight of some kind that seemed resistant to move with her. Maybe it was the drugs still in her system or maybe it was just the delayed shock of being in this situation again, but she couldn't seem to put the two things together, her moving and the weight. But, she was a determined woman, if nothing else, so she leaned forward just a little more, only getting a few more inches through the distance. It still wasn't enough. It was frustrating. She was trying so hard not to pull too far, lest something actually start happening when she isn't ready or without a plan, but she couldn't even use her feet to get more distance.
No good. The braces on her legs wouldn't budge and there was no way to get the locks off without a key of some sort. There wasn't even anything around that she could try to pry them open with or bludgen the locks with. Rem started taking things slower, to process the information and her surroundings. The harness was, clearly, the more dangerous of the two parts, what with the immediate threat of her vision. Taking a firm grip of the top piece, she started trying to pull it, only succeeding in hurting her shoulders in the process. She started running her fingers along the brace pieces, only to find where the lock was under the top. While the information would be useful for making quick motions later, it wasn't at all helpful right now in getting out of it.
It looked like the only way to free herself would be to get the keys. If she could just get the harness off, she'd be home free. But she'd have to take the risk, it seemed. But it wasn't something she could just rush herself to do. She had to figure out what exactly she would do if anything happened. She looked between the communicator and the tray of, she hoped, keys. It was a tough decision, but the tray was the best choice. If she could get the harness off, she could get the communicator later to call for help. Yes, that made sense. After she had the harness off, she could worry about how to remove the leg clamps. She could do this. She sat back and let her muscles fall back against the chair and the armrests, closing her eyes. Taking a few deep breaths, she could feel her body relaxing, but it didn't ease her mind any. No matter how long she put it off, she'd have to start it eventually. Resting her chin on her hand, she eyed to the communicator one last time with a look of longing in her eyes. No. No, it would have to wait until she knew she was safe.
"Right, then," she muttered to herself, rubbing her face heavily with her hand. That instinct in the back of her mind told her she only had one shot at this, the adreneline already building from her anxiousness.
With that thought, she jolted up in a straight shot. There seemed to be some resistance before she was fully to her feet, and she felt a snap and the weight behind her release. If she were alive, her heart would have stopped when she heard a small click from behind her: ticking. There was ticking. She was on a TIMER. Her eyes darted everywhere in all of a split second before she saw the tray again. Her hands instantly reached for it, ready to knock the damn thing down so she could get the key to get out. The only problem being was that she couldn't quite reach, her fingertips just barely reaching the bottom of it. No NO that wasn't how this was supposed to work. She should have been able to reach it. Rem tried to stretch her arms more, spread her fingers further, anything she could do to reach the top of the tray to bring it down but she just couldn't get far enough. Her breaths were becoming short and ragged the longer it went on, what seemed like forever, until she almost fell forward, were it not for her legs being caught against the chair.
The ticking stopped. As suddenly as it had started, it was suddenly not there. Rem's eyes went wide and time seemed to stop for a split second before she heard metal springs creaking, and before she could do anything, she felt a surge of pain in her face as the spikes came flying towards it. It was in less than a second when the pain pinpointed directly to her eyes and the muscles behind it. There was a momentary shock, the thoughts rolling in one after the other, that she lost, her time was up, it hurt oh God did it hurt, she couldn't see. Her fingers went scrambling at the metal in her eyes, her short nails scraping at it trying to get the things out but she couldn't; they were lodged too far in, and the springs that held them were too strong for her to push back against. She felt some warm liquid against her fingers as she continued to pry the things out, her breaths breaking between broken sobs until she let out a despaired scream.
What was a four letter word that had to do with killing, but wasn't 'kill' itself? Oh. 'Slay' fit there, didn't it. Amanda etched the letters in carefully, and only responded to the horrifying screams escaping her victim after she decided that was enough for that day. The book and pen were dropped carelessly to the floor, and Amanda swept to her feet with her now free hand grabbing up a camera from the seat beside her. The strap was thrown about her neck and she swaggered around the sight before her.
Still so smug, Amanda turned the voice device on and placed it to her mouth. "Mm. Let me help you with that."
Unceremonious, she was, as Amanda pocketed the device and reached forward. First to release the springs that held the spikes tight against her victim, and then to rip them free from Rem's face. They just the right length to tear past the entire eye and nestle into the veins and muscles beyond, so as the spikes were pulled free, rather crude spurts of blood squirted free. It was kind of comical to the captor, and she tossed them to each side to bring the camera up and take a picture.
But she held off for just a moment, to let Rem flail to a good position, first.
They were still there. The one who did this. The voice and offer of help was encouragable, but soon unwanted as she felt the spikes ripping from her eyes, more of that warm liquid seeming to flow freely now. It was blood; she could tell now. The smell was almost unbearable to her. Her arms outstretched themselves, trying to get a grip of whoever it was there with her, her balance thrown off with the action. She wasn't able to hold back the yell from the second rush of pain of her eyes suddenly being free of the impalement.
She couldn't see, she couldn't see anything in front or around her and she closed her eyes quickly as her hands covered her face for a few moments before she started trying to reach out for the communicator. It had been right in front of her, hadn't it? Or was that person still in the way? Damned if she knew, she'd shove them as hard as she could if they were. She wanted to call for someone, anyone.
The camera went off with a loud scree, the flash brightening the room and causing Amanda squint her eyes. Stupid light. That hurt. She dropped the camera against her chest, the strap pulling taught as she waited. The woman sure was freaking out, wasn't she? Huh.
Out came the device again, this time to help urge Rem along. "Heaven and Hell, Rem," she said in reminder that the trap wasn't done yet.
'Freaking out' was possibly the understatement of the year. The noise she heard was weird and foreign, but somehow vaguely familiar. But, Rem didn't even hear Amanda's words, her mind trying to figure out just what was restraining her from moving anywhere.
Oh. OH the legs, that's right. It didn't take a heartbeat's time for her to bend down, her fingers frantically trying to pull the things apart. Key be damned, she couldn't think straight, not enough to figure out whatever that clue was about heaven and hell. Finding her efforts futile, she lifted herself up again, arms reaching for whoever it was. Please, please.
Time was up again. It was a swift noise and painless when she felt a weight released below her, and she found herself suddenly falling forward until she hit the ground with an unresounding thud. And then there was the pain. It was almost as bad as her eyes, but at least she could move now. The first thing she could think of was to try and find that stool and knock it over, and then maybe the door.
Amanda was too busy watching the photo, hanging out of the camera around her neck, develop in front of her to pay much attention to the trap setting off in front of her. The picture was astonishingly perfect, and after she was sure of that, she tucked the device for her voice away and pulled out a switchblade. All Amanda's movements were so fluid and comfortable, that and as she dropped down over Rem and sat on her, that it was hard to believe what was transpiring was. Eyeless, legless, Amanda wondered if she should have felt bad.
Rem's eyes were bleeding more than Amanda thought they would, and her shirt was soaking up most of it. Pulling the fabric from her back was more of a sticky chore than it should have been. Gross. But that was alright. Clucking her tongue, a small pattern--a cookie cutter, of sorts, was pulled out and pressed against the flesh just to the right of her spine. Against and down into the flesh, and she began to dig out the flesh, down to the muscle lining. The pattern was a puzzle piece. Amanda had debated long and hard whether she wanted to use that symbol without John, but was it so bad, the idea of her being Jigsaw? Not really, she thought.
There was a stinging pain in her back, but it only seemed to mix with all the other pain through Rem's entire body; it didn't even fully register that something else was being done to her, but she could feel something heavy on top of her. She couldn't even muster up the strength to shake whatever it was off; she barely had the energy to keep her head from lying on the floor. Was she even crying now? It was all a bad mix of tears and blood that she wasn't even sure now. But she couldn't move. Not while she could feel her entire body shaking underneath the weight.
"P-please... please he-elp me..."
Amanda almost called her a stupid whore. She did, but she was smart and remembered that she didn't have the manipulator at her mouth to mask her voice. So, instead, she continued to gouge, only stopping once to lift the cutter and allow the blood pooling up into it to drain out. The mark was perfect, though, and she ran her finger in it to make sure. Amanda was hardly worried about disease anymore at that point as she did it. What was the worst that could happen? She'd die and come back, that's what.
She reached back and pushed Rem's head to the ground and used it as a base to push herself up to her feet, and went over to the stool as she got that device out and brought it to her lips. "I wanted to play a game, Rem... and you just lost."
The communicator was plopped down in front of her, nearly smacking her in the face as Amanda did it, and she used the device again to rattle off the cross streets of the warehouse (not her warehouse; she wasn't that fucking dumb). Not her warehouse, thank God, and she even did Rem the favor of, afterwards, turning on the audio poster for her so she could make her frantic attempt to get help. Wasn't that so nice?
Amanda thought so, too. And after that, she began to whistle. Whistle. And a holiday tune, no less, as she started to leave with a slight skip to her step. 'Santa Claus Is Coming to Town' seemed... ironic, but hey, it was on her mind as she hopped and looked at the polaroid in her hands.
This one went perfectly.
Rating; R for violence and language.
Characters; Rem Saverem (mother_rem) and Amanda Young (notjigsaw
Summary; Amanda is butthurt over getting killed by Wolfwood after she trapped him. So she's stalking those around him. And Rem was, like, totally asking for it, amirite?
Log;
Stumbling was never exactly a good thing, and Rem couldn't figure out why she was stumbling at all. The times she drank to actually get drunk were far and few between, and when she had agreed to go out with Amanda, this had not been one of those times planned. Why would she? Amanda was an acquaintance who wanted to get to know her better, so why not, right? Some nice talk, a few laughs maybe. Somewhere through the night, though, things started getting confusing, and Rem's memory wasn't being the kindest thing to her as she rested her hand on the wall as a means of support, clearly trying to hide it. She wasn't very good at that, as shown by how she was having to squint her eyes a bit too much to make out the woman in front of her.
"...Amanda?" her uneven voice called out, "You still there?" Why was it so hard to see? Was it this dark when she went in?
Amanda Young played along with her. It would have been a bit awkward if they both weren't, if someone had been attempting to count their drinks. Rem Saverem looked entirely blown out of her mind, when the sad reality was that it was simply the rohypnol slipped a bit too easily in Rem's drink when they were delivered. She was a blind little cunt, wasn't she? The whole fucking lot of them were fucked up in some way or another.
She had some traps that would need a little modification, but she'd use the knowledge gained in her conversations with Rem as an excuse to get back at the fuckface priest.
Wobbling convincingly in front of her, Amanda reached over and grabbed Rem's hand to tug her from the wall and completely from the building. "Right here~" she said in singsong. She should have won an academy award for the performances she could put on, Amanda thought bitterly as she pulled. "Sorry, I think I had a little too much. But I think I'm better than you to get us a taxi." Car in the alley.
The tug nearly pulled Rem to her feet, catching herself on Amanda's arm with her free hand. But, she let herself be easily pulled along.
"I think we did," she stammered out dazily. She could feel something wasn't quite right, but she shook it off as just her usual paranoia. Things were fine. It took quite a few moments for what Amanda had said to sink in before she laughed a little, "Yeah yeah, you are~" she sing-songed back, finally letting go of the girl's arm and walking alongside her, albeit like a true drunkard would.
Jesus Christ. It was almost something that would have taken Amanda aback for a moment, just months ago. But this was serious fucking business. Not only did Rem seriously warrant what Amanda had in store, this served as a prelude of things to come to Wolfwood. Being cautious and mindful of John's wishes were cast to the wind after she fucking died because of him. They weren't lying that you don't stop ever being cold.
Twirling with a swagger at the alley nearby, she held a finger up and smiled at her company. "You~ stay here." The last emphasized word was accompanied with Amanda pointing at the ground under Rem's feet. "And I'll be back so soon you won't know what hit you, m'kay?" Understatements were wonderful things.
No. No, she shouldn't stay there. Unknowingly drugged or not, that instinctive sense of hers of when something bad was about to happen was kicking off. But to move very far, that would have taken more energy than she could have given. What was Amanda saying? 'Be back soon to get you'? Was that it? Maybe. She couldn't really think very well. Straight. Something right now.
The things before her started melting into blotches of dark colors, hardly distinguishable until they were almost directly in her face. But at Amanda's words, she nodded, closing her eyes for a moment because that kept the headache building up from being too much. Maybe waiting would be a better idea.
Rem's eyes fluttered shut, and down the alley, Amanda darted. The car was there, and there was hardly anyone in the immediate area. Everything was in perfect condition for this, but she had to make sure that despite she being the last one that Rem saw before what would happen next, that if Rem managed to recollect anything at all from this point on until the drugs wore off, that it wouldn't be Amanda.
Piled messily in the trunk was her City substitution for the cloak and mask she wore back home to obtain test and trap subjects for the games. A red cloak, made with a strong and versatile fabric to hold up with her abuse of it, gloves to hide fingerprints, and the crude rubber pig's mask--fit with a black wig and really something coming out of a movie featuring humans dressed as sacrifical animals, prancing around shamelessly in horrific display. All these items were quick to be pulled on, and as soon as they were settled, she poured herself a rag of chloroform anesthetic, and she was quick on her way back to her "friend".
Having to make sure Rem would see the masked form attacking her, just in case, Amanda grasped Rem by the shoulder and pulled her around roughly to face her, before diving in to press the rag to Rem's mouth and nose.
Rem's mind was trying to keep herself awake, ready for whatever this gut wrenching feeling was coming down on her, but the drug she'd been given was making it nearly impossible for her to even consider that being left alone in this state in an alley was not safe at all. Instead, her mind seemed to think this was a very logical idea, as Amanda had said herself she was going to go get a taxi. Nevermind that they could have just called for one right there. That kind of logic was the furtherest thing in the woman's thought processes.
And then she felt a jolt -- something pulling her to one direction, and the thing in her face was most certainly not Amanda. She would have let out a scream if something hadn't suddenly been pressed to her face, leaving only enough time to take a breath and inhale the chloroform at the same time. Her instincts were to fight it off, her head squirming trying to break away from that rag enough to scream help or murder or something. She tried to thrash out against the attacker, but the drug that had already taken refuge in her system made it nearly impossible to do. The only thing that came of it were sluggish movements and muffled sounds before she finally became slack and her eyes closing, almost peacefully.
The woman went slack and Amanda was immediately pulling Rem into her and wrapping her arms around her neck, tugging her towards the car waiting in the alley. Fortunately, the momentum of the tug was enough to allow easy movements out of the public eye entirely, before Rem's body fell to a level that was too heavy to do anything but hook under her shoulders and drag her over to the side of the car.
Not having had the foresight to open the cardoor before doing this, Amanda hoisted her up to prop her halfway over the backhood as she went to open the door. She was also partially planning to let her arms, trembling from the strain (not because Rem was heavy, but because Amanda wasn't exactly a weight lifter) as she swung the door open, but that was blown out as the body of her victim slipped off the hood and piled to the concrete heavily.
"...fuck," she muttered. Stupid bitch was difficult even unconscious. It took more straining to get the brunette into the backseat, but once she did, and Amanda could get into the front seat, she stripped the mask off and took a deep breath. The drug and the alcohol, along with the chloroform, guaranteed enough time for Amanda to get her to the warehouse and get her hooked up to the trap.
Maybe she'd take a picture for the fucking priest.
How long ago was it when she was at Lux with ...who was it? Amanda, right? Rem's head seemed to roll heavily from one side to the other as she tried to piece her memories together, though unsuccessfully. Her head was killing her something awful and she wasn't entirely sure why. Her eyes slowly opened, everything a blur before they slowly began to sort out the shapes in front of her, her other senses kicking in shortly after.
She was sitting. She was sitting in a chair, and wherever she was, it was dark. Rem already didn't like that. She hated dark places. But her head was swimming too much from the drug to form any kind of coherent thought for a few minutes. She squinted her eyes and looked this way and that, trying to get some kind of understanding of where she was.
It suddenly occurred to her that while she was sitting, she was incredibly uncomfortable. It felt like there was something holding her shoulders down. Without any second thought, she reached to shove whatever it was off -- maybe the cats? they had that habit sometimes of just sitting on her shoulders -- but found it wasn't a cute furry animal. Instead it was cold metal. This came as a realization at the same time she realized she wasn't at home, or anywhere she could recognize in the darkness.
"No," she whispered shakily to herself. This was too familiar. She couldn't fully remember why or how, but she knew something like this had happened before. And it sent her hands trembling uncontrollably as she still grasped the metal thing on her shoulders.
She was just off, out of sight and in the shadows of the spacious room devoted to this event. Slack and comfortable, she was teething a piece of fresh gum as she did a crossword puzzle on her lap. In her one hand, a small voice manipuation device was toyed with, bouncing thoughtfully as she worked.
When the small shuffles of life came into earshot and she stopped and looked up. Huh. About time. She was beginning to wonder if she put the woman into a coma with everything. Wouldn't have been the first time, honestly. But she was up, and moving, and Amanda was happy to know it.
Smuggly, the voice manipulation device was clicked on and placed up to her mouth. "Hello, Rem Saverem.
"All your life has been devoted to second chances and giving every opportunity you can to those around you. To instantly forgive past transgressions and attempt to look forward, look to the future and keep walking forward. You have, in a sense, left yourself completely blind to the dangers that the past ignored can create. People have been hurt and people have died because of your perpetual optimism that people can change.
"Rem Saverem, I want to play a game. This night caters to your belief that everyone can change. But tonight, it will be you left to change. Will you continue to exist, blind, or will you fight into a new stage of your life by reaching for the keys to your future? Above you is a tray hosting your first key. Reach for it, and claim it, and release yourself from the binds on your shoulders. The next key is in a place as different as Hell is to Heaven." Fluffy fucking-ass allusions.
"A communicator, as you can see, stands across from you on a stool. I'm sure if you stand up, you might be able to reach it, as well. But will someone find you in time? Time is ticking. Make your choice."
Rem's eyes were wide as the voice faded into the darkness, nothing but disbelief clouding her mind. Why? Why why why WHY No, she knew this. The same setup, the same kind of introduction, it was the exact same. Her whole body shook as her gaze drifted down to the harness she had been adorned with while unconscious, a new sense of anxiety, before falling forward to the small stool and the communicator sitting so innocently atop it. It was a trap. She knew it was. There was some trick, there had to be. But she needed help. Taking a look around made it obvious no one else was visibly in the room -- something she was grateful for. No one else would be involved like last time, during that curse... Rem shook her head quickly, refusing to let herself think about that night. Her thoughts had to be on the here and now, and how to get out of this. She had to make herself calm down and think clearly, or as clearly as she could right now.
There was the communicator -- she could try to get help. Rem looked upwards, to a flat tray hanging from the ceiling with the keys to the locks that held her. Either way, she would probably trigger something if she tried to get either one. Whoever it was that was speaking to her had to have been keeping something secret, she just wasn't sure what. She tilted her head up to the tray again, idly wondering if there was really a key there waiting. There was no way of telling; the tray wasn't on eye level. Maybe she could reach the table? It was worth a shot, as long as she didn't move too much, right?
Taking great care not to pull herself forward too far, she reached her arm out to the table -- too far. She looked around and then leaned forward just an inch or two and she still couldn't reach it, but she could feel something heavy holding her back, like a weight of some kind that seemed resistant to move with her. Maybe it was the drugs still in her system or maybe it was just the delayed shock of being in this situation again, but she couldn't seem to put the two things together, her moving and the weight. But, she was a determined woman, if nothing else, so she leaned forward just a little more, only getting a few more inches through the distance. It still wasn't enough. It was frustrating. She was trying so hard not to pull too far, lest something actually start happening when she isn't ready or without a plan, but she couldn't even use her feet to get more distance.
No good. The braces on her legs wouldn't budge and there was no way to get the locks off without a key of some sort. There wasn't even anything around that she could try to pry them open with or bludgen the locks with. Rem started taking things slower, to process the information and her surroundings. The harness was, clearly, the more dangerous of the two parts, what with the immediate threat of her vision. Taking a firm grip of the top piece, she started trying to pull it, only succeeding in hurting her shoulders in the process. She started running her fingers along the brace pieces, only to find where the lock was under the top. While the information would be useful for making quick motions later, it wasn't at all helpful right now in getting out of it.
It looked like the only way to free herself would be to get the keys. If she could just get the harness off, she'd be home free. But she'd have to take the risk, it seemed. But it wasn't something she could just rush herself to do. She had to figure out what exactly she would do if anything happened. She looked between the communicator and the tray of, she hoped, keys. It was a tough decision, but the tray was the best choice. If she could get the harness off, she could get the communicator later to call for help. Yes, that made sense. After she had the harness off, she could worry about how to remove the leg clamps. She could do this. She sat back and let her muscles fall back against the chair and the armrests, closing her eyes. Taking a few deep breaths, she could feel her body relaxing, but it didn't ease her mind any. No matter how long she put it off, she'd have to start it eventually. Resting her chin on her hand, she eyed to the communicator one last time with a look of longing in her eyes. No. No, it would have to wait until she knew she was safe.
"Right, then," she muttered to herself, rubbing her face heavily with her hand. That instinct in the back of her mind told her she only had one shot at this, the adreneline already building from her anxiousness.
With that thought, she jolted up in a straight shot. There seemed to be some resistance before she was fully to her feet, and she felt a snap and the weight behind her release. If she were alive, her heart would have stopped when she heard a small click from behind her: ticking. There was ticking. She was on a TIMER. Her eyes darted everywhere in all of a split second before she saw the tray again. Her hands instantly reached for it, ready to knock the damn thing down so she could get the key to get out. The only problem being was that she couldn't quite reach, her fingertips just barely reaching the bottom of it. No NO that wasn't how this was supposed to work. She should have been able to reach it. Rem tried to stretch her arms more, spread her fingers further, anything she could do to reach the top of the tray to bring it down but she just couldn't get far enough. Her breaths were becoming short and ragged the longer it went on, what seemed like forever, until she almost fell forward, were it not for her legs being caught against the chair.
The ticking stopped. As suddenly as it had started, it was suddenly not there. Rem's eyes went wide and time seemed to stop for a split second before she heard metal springs creaking, and before she could do anything, she felt a surge of pain in her face as the spikes came flying towards it. It was in less than a second when the pain pinpointed directly to her eyes and the muscles behind it. There was a momentary shock, the thoughts rolling in one after the other, that she lost, her time was up, it hurt oh God did it hurt, she couldn't see. Her fingers went scrambling at the metal in her eyes, her short nails scraping at it trying to get the things out but she couldn't; they were lodged too far in, and the springs that held them were too strong for her to push back against. She felt some warm liquid against her fingers as she continued to pry the things out, her breaths breaking between broken sobs until she let out a despaired scream.
What was a four letter word that had to do with killing, but wasn't 'kill' itself? Oh. 'Slay' fit there, didn't it. Amanda etched the letters in carefully, and only responded to the horrifying screams escaping her victim after she decided that was enough for that day. The book and pen were dropped carelessly to the floor, and Amanda swept to her feet with her now free hand grabbing up a camera from the seat beside her. The strap was thrown about her neck and she swaggered around the sight before her.
Still so smug, Amanda turned the voice device on and placed it to her mouth. "Mm. Let me help you with that."
Unceremonious, she was, as Amanda pocketed the device and reached forward. First to release the springs that held the spikes tight against her victim, and then to rip them free from Rem's face. They just the right length to tear past the entire eye and nestle into the veins and muscles beyond, so as the spikes were pulled free, rather crude spurts of blood squirted free. It was kind of comical to the captor, and she tossed them to each side to bring the camera up and take a picture.
But she held off for just a moment, to let Rem flail to a good position, first.
They were still there. The one who did this. The voice and offer of help was encouragable, but soon unwanted as she felt the spikes ripping from her eyes, more of that warm liquid seeming to flow freely now. It was blood; she could tell now. The smell was almost unbearable to her. Her arms outstretched themselves, trying to get a grip of whoever it was there with her, her balance thrown off with the action. She wasn't able to hold back the yell from the second rush of pain of her eyes suddenly being free of the impalement.
She couldn't see, she couldn't see anything in front or around her and she closed her eyes quickly as her hands covered her face for a few moments before she started trying to reach out for the communicator. It had been right in front of her, hadn't it? Or was that person still in the way? Damned if she knew, she'd shove them as hard as she could if they were. She wanted to call for someone, anyone.
The camera went off with a loud scree, the flash brightening the room and causing Amanda squint her eyes. Stupid light. That hurt. She dropped the camera against her chest, the strap pulling taught as she waited. The woman sure was freaking out, wasn't she? Huh.
Out came the device again, this time to help urge Rem along. "Heaven and Hell, Rem," she said in reminder that the trap wasn't done yet.
'Freaking out' was possibly the understatement of the year. The noise she heard was weird and foreign, but somehow vaguely familiar. But, Rem didn't even hear Amanda's words, her mind trying to figure out just what was restraining her from moving anywhere.
Oh. OH the legs, that's right. It didn't take a heartbeat's time for her to bend down, her fingers frantically trying to pull the things apart. Key be damned, she couldn't think straight, not enough to figure out whatever that clue was about heaven and hell. Finding her efforts futile, she lifted herself up again, arms reaching for whoever it was. Please, please.
Time was up again. It was a swift noise and painless when she felt a weight released below her, and she found herself suddenly falling forward until she hit the ground with an unresounding thud. And then there was the pain. It was almost as bad as her eyes, but at least she could move now. The first thing she could think of was to try and find that stool and knock it over, and then maybe the door.
Amanda was too busy watching the photo, hanging out of the camera around her neck, develop in front of her to pay much attention to the trap setting off in front of her. The picture was astonishingly perfect, and after she was sure of that, she tucked the device for her voice away and pulled out a switchblade. All Amanda's movements were so fluid and comfortable, that and as she dropped down over Rem and sat on her, that it was hard to believe what was transpiring was. Eyeless, legless, Amanda wondered if she should have felt bad.
Rem's eyes were bleeding more than Amanda thought they would, and her shirt was soaking up most of it. Pulling the fabric from her back was more of a sticky chore than it should have been. Gross. But that was alright. Clucking her tongue, a small pattern--a cookie cutter, of sorts, was pulled out and pressed against the flesh just to the right of her spine. Against and down into the flesh, and she began to dig out the flesh, down to the muscle lining. The pattern was a puzzle piece. Amanda had debated long and hard whether she wanted to use that symbol without John, but was it so bad, the idea of her being Jigsaw? Not really, she thought.
There was a stinging pain in her back, but it only seemed to mix with all the other pain through Rem's entire body; it didn't even fully register that something else was being done to her, but she could feel something heavy on top of her. She couldn't even muster up the strength to shake whatever it was off; she barely had the energy to keep her head from lying on the floor. Was she even crying now? It was all a bad mix of tears and blood that she wasn't even sure now. But she couldn't move. Not while she could feel her entire body shaking underneath the weight.
"P-please... please he-elp me..."
Amanda almost called her a stupid whore. She did, but she was smart and remembered that she didn't have the manipulator at her mouth to mask her voice. So, instead, she continued to gouge, only stopping once to lift the cutter and allow the blood pooling up into it to drain out. The mark was perfect, though, and she ran her finger in it to make sure. Amanda was hardly worried about disease anymore at that point as she did it. What was the worst that could happen? She'd die and come back, that's what.
She reached back and pushed Rem's head to the ground and used it as a base to push herself up to her feet, and went over to the stool as she got that device out and brought it to her lips. "I wanted to play a game, Rem... and you just lost."
The communicator was plopped down in front of her, nearly smacking her in the face as Amanda did it, and she used the device again to rattle off the cross streets of the warehouse (not her warehouse; she wasn't that fucking dumb). Not her warehouse, thank God, and she even did Rem the favor of, afterwards, turning on the audio poster for her so she could make her frantic attempt to get help. Wasn't that so nice?
Amanda thought so, too. And after that, she began to whistle. Whistle. And a holiday tune, no less, as she started to leave with a slight skip to her step. 'Santa Claus Is Coming to Town' seemed... ironic, but hey, it was on her mind as she hopped and looked at the polaroid in her hands.
This one went perfectly.