Post by oberonfrost on Nov 27, 2011 2:08:12 GMT -5
Ultimate Crimson Fox #2
Twenty Pieces of Silver Part 2
Police, Pets, and Patients
Inspector Josephine Tautin stared out over the scene in front of her. She couldn’t help but be amazed that despite the number of deceased, there was next to no carnage to accompany the deaths. A decontamination unit had already swept the premises and declared that there were no chemical or biological agents lingering within Le Malefosse that would make it unsafe for investigators. With a heavy sigh, she crossed the hardwood floor, careful to avoid the many blood pools that occupied the floor, to where the medical examiner was plunging his thermometer into the liver of another corpse. “Well?” she asked simply, standing over the crouching doctor.
The medical examiner shook his head, obviously confounded. “Cela n’a aucun sens,” he muttered under his breath repeatedly. With a sickening slurp he pulled the thermometer out of the body, and stood to face Josephine. “As far as I can tell,” he said, “everyone in this bar died at the same time. I’ve checked six of them already, but everything I see leads me to believe that each man and woman expired within seconds of each other.”
Unconsciously Josephine rubbed the back of her neck. She was already developing a headache. “There are no signs of a struggle, no visible injuries to any of the bodies. What could cause something like this doctor?”
Again the medical examiner shook his head. “I don’t know of any toxins that could cause this kind of reaction. We will of course run a full toxicology panel once we get them back to the morgue. Based on my cursory examination here, it looks like all of them suffered exsanguination, from their eye sockets. Though there are no wounds to that area of the body either.”
Josephine turned sharply on her heel, and headed toward the door. Over her shoulder she called back to the man, “Let me know as soon as you receive the tox results!”
***
‘Nine stories,’ Vivian thought to herself, looking down through the skylight atop the Revson building. ’I can land a nine story drop.’ She knew however that it wasn’t getting inside that would be the problem. The building undoubtedly had at least one security guard. That would not pose a problem either. The real challenge would be getting out before the police arrived. She had no way to disable the alarm system, and would have to rely on her own speed, intelligence and instincts to get the information she needed and get out before being discovered by responding police officers.
Vivian flexed her clawed fingers a few times. ’Cutting a hole in the glass shouldn’t set off any alarms,’ she thought as she pressed the tip of one talon to the glass. Carefully, Vivian traced a circle in the glass, then tapped it gently when the shape was complete. With uncanny speed she reached into the hole and caught the cut pane before it could fall more than a few inches. ‘Ici, rien ne va,’ she declared mentally, then dived through the hole.
Tucking her knees to her chest, Vivian tucked into a tight ball. She careened down the opening from the building’s ceiling toward the darkened lobby. As her body rolled head over feet, she kept track of the floors surrounding the passage, counting each as she fell. When she reached the third floor, she untucked, the tail from her cowl drifting upward as she herself continued down. A fully extended front flip, and she landed flawlessly on the plush carpeting of the lobby.
Quickly, Vivian studied her surroundings. No security guard was present in the lobby, for that she was thankful. She vaguely remembered her way to the research labs from when she had visited her father her as a child. She took off down the hallway to her left, careful to keep low, and try to notice any motion detectors that might give away her presence.
With great speed, she zigged and zagged from one side of the passage to the other, staying out of the line of sight of the three cameras that panned across the hall. The research facilities were one floor below, in the first of the building’s several basement levels. She came to a halt in front of the door to the stairwell. It required a keycard for entry.
For a moment, Vivian weighed her options. She could probably claw through the metal, cutting herself a path. Then again, she might be able to tear the door from its frame just as easily, and more quickly. Either option, however, would leave the unmistakable impression that someone had been there. She had hoped to get in and out without leaving a clue to what she was after. Daunted, Vivian was contemplating simply turning back and forgetting this entire endeavor. There were of course other ways to ferret out the source of the information leak from D’Armis to Revson.
Couched before the door as she was, Vivian turned to head back toward the lobby. Before she could even begin her retreat, she noticed a dim beam of light beginning to make it’s way down the corridor. ‘Flashlight,’ she thought, exasperated. She looked around, like a frightened animal, not sure what to do or where to go.
Yet, there was nowhere to run; nowhere to hide. She rolled into a corner, staying as far from the approaching guard’s light as she could. Fight or flight instincts began to kick in. Vivian forced herself to remain calm. As the man came ever closer, Vivian finally discovered her course of action. She could only hope that she would receive the results she desired.
She flicked her wrists, and the claws retracted back into their sheathes. Standing, Vivian tried her best to look as seductive as was possible when one was dressed as a fox, and cranked her pheromone levels up to maximum. She was emitting attraction for all she was worth. She stepped out from her hiding place, into the illumination of the light the short, chubby guard was holding in his left hand. “Bonjour,” she whispered breathily.
The man stopped short. He was unsure what to do exactly. All his training said that he was to find a way to subdue the intruder and call for the police. On the other hand, all his blood was rushing from his brain, downward to smaller, more important organs. “Mademoiselle?” he hiccupped.
Vivian stepped toward him, exuding sex into the air. “Vous me trouvez irrésistible, pas vous?” She placed one hand on his meaty chest and wrapped the other around his neck. Looking seductively into his eyes.
The man nodded and croaked out a labored, “Oui.”
Vivian’s face was scant inches from his own. Their lips almost touching as she gazed into his eyes. “Ensuite, ouvrez la porte pour moi, s'il vous plaît?”
The guard swallowed hard, and started forward. Vivian pulled back when she felt something poke her unromantically in the leg. She dialed down the pheromones a bit and slipped behind him as he made for the stairwell door. She kept her hands on his shoulders as he strode forward, fumbling for the electronic keycard that would provide access to the lower floors. “Oh, comme un bon garçon….” Vivian whispered in his ear as he slid the card through the reader and door clicked open.
He turned and looked at her longingly. She stared back at him, trying to hide the disgust and disbelief at what she was doing. “Maintenant, allez m'attendre dans le bureau le plus proche du hall d'entrée, sur la gauche,” she whispered to him again, this time her lips so close to his ear he could feel her hot breath teasingly on his lobe.
Vivian had ordered him to one of the offices to wait for her. She gave him a gentle pat on his behind as he started back toward the lobby. ‘The poor man thinks he’s going to get lucky tonight,’ she thought to herself as she turned away and began her decent into the research facility. She almost felt sorry for him and how she had treated him. ‘No real harm done,’ she reminded herself as she sprinted down the stairs.
***
Josephine Tautin rolled groggily under her bed sheets. She rubbed at her eyes and ran her fingers through her hair as her cellular continued to ring on the bedside table. Picking it up, just before it went to voicemail, she spat into the receiver, “Qu'est-ce?”
The caller on the other end was obviously startled by the harsh question, and there was a moment of silence before the girl on the line spoke up. “Inspecteur Tautin,” she said hesitantly, “ce n’est Olivia…” The young woman identified herself as calling from the medical examiner’s office. She apologized for calling so late and waking Josephine, but explained that she was under orders to call with the results of the toxicology report as soon as they were finished.
Josephine listened in silence as the girl describe how among the twenty-eight victims from the scene at Le Malefosse, none had any kind of foreign substances in their blood, besides alcohol; since it was a bar, the alcohol was hardly surprising. “Merci,” Josephine whispered from her end before cutting off the call and letting her head fall back on her pillow.
Stretching her muscles and rubbing once more at her eyes, Josephine recollected what they didn’t know about the case. Twenty-eight dead bodies, with no apparent cause of death. Each one of them had lost quarts of blood through their eye sockets, though there were no wounds to that area on any of the victims. No chemical or biological poisons had killed them. The symptoms, if she could call them that, didn’t match any known diseases. The only physical evidence that might shed some light was a wine glass and cigarette butt found on one of the back tables, but that didn’t necessarily belong to a murderer- more likely someone who was lucky enough to get out before the massacre began.
With no real leads, and only frustration, Josephine rolled onto her stomach and buried her face in her pillow. She sighed, the sound muffled by the feathered mass beneath her face, and resolved not to think any more about it until the sun was up at least.
***
‘Thank goodness for good record keeping,’ Vivian thought to herself as she rifled through the filing cabinets adjacent to the main lab. It didn’t take long to find the files on the formulas that had come from D’Armis. The papers inside were hard copies, printouts of e-mails from someone within the D’Armis organization. The culprit had been intelligent enough not to use their business address, however. All Vivian had to go on was the web-mail address printed in the header: judas4313@freemail.org. She made a mental note of it and stuffed the folders back into the drawer. She doubted there was anyone at D’Armis named after one of history’s most famous betrayers, but was confident that she could somehow use the information to track down the traitor.
Vivian turned toward the door, and crept quietly back through the dimly lit lab, ready to make her getaway. As she passed one of the ventilation ducts, however, a loud noise from the floor below caught her attention. It sounded like a scream. Vivian sidled over to the vent, putting her ear close to the grate, and listened.
A scream, loud and resounding, filled with terror and pain rose up through network of ducts and found it’s way to Vivian’s ear. Vivian had never heard the sounds of torture, but she knew upon hearing the screams and panting from below that this was what torture sounded like.
It took only a moment for Vivian to resolve a course of action. “In for a penny…” she whispered to herself, as another scream rose through the vent. If she wanted to be a costumed superhero, this was exactly the kind of thing that she would have to get used to. Vivian shoved her fingers through the openings in the grate and with a grunt, pulled it from the wall. She flicked her wrists again, and the six inch talons tipped her fingers once again, then she swung herself into the duct, sliding feet first toward the sounds of violence below.
***
In a tower of glass and steel, the woman in white sat in a dimly lit room. The carpet, the walls, the furnishings, everything in the room was the same unblemished white of her garb. Her white beret sat rumpled on the white coffee table, beside her propped up feet. Her jet black hair and crimson sunglasses provided the only color in the entire suite. Daintily, she lifted a white lacquered bell from the table at her side, and let it tinkle shortly before sitting it back down.
The white doors across the room swung open almost instantly. Two men, if they could be called that, strode in through the opening. They were squat, pudgy things, covered in lumps. Both of them wore nothing more than a white loin cloth, obscuring their private parts. They gazed at the floor as they crossed toward the woman in white, never looking up to meet her gaze. Between them, they pulled another man. He was tall, blond, muscular; a model of physical perfection really. He was naked, leashed and crawling on all fours. He tried to resist, but any time he refused to move further forward, they jerked indelicately on the leads, choking him into submission.
When they had reached the woman in white, each of the lumpy men tied their leash to legs of the coffee table. Then, they retreated quickly and silently from the room.
The woman in white then put her feet on the floor, kneeled in front of the man left behind. She put a hand under his chin, and jerked his head upward to look at her. “You were American. From the land of the Free,” she said to him, her voice little more than a whisper. “You are no longer American. You are no longer free.”
He tried to speak, tried to scream at her to let him go. His mouth moved, he managed some grunting noises, but it was nearly impossible for him to enunciate his words now that his tongue had been removed.
“I want a pet,” the woman in white said to him. “You will be my pet.” With her free hand, she removed her sunglasses, and forced him to look into the empty sockets where her eyes used to be. He stared, terrified, frozen in place with fear. She forced him to gaze into those black holes for what seemed like hours, then he noticed something moving inside. First it was just a single hornet, crawling slowly out of the empty socket, and down her cheek.
Then it was a swarm, hundreds of bees pouring out of her empty eyes and buzzing all around him. He tried again to scream as several of them stuck their stingers into his naked body. As his mouth opened to let out another gurgling grunt, the swarm turned as one, and each and every bee made it’s way into his maw, and down his throat.
***
Vivian landed almost silently one floor below, and peered through the grate into the room beyond. She could only make out two people through the narrow openings. One was strapped to a table, inclined so he was almost in a standing position, the only part of him that retained the capability of movement was his head. The other had it’s back to her, but was dressed all in black, a combination of patent leather and latex, right down to the shiny black mask that covered it’s head.
For a moment, Vivian thought she’d made a terrible mistake, and somehow wandered into someone’s bizarre sexual ritual. But then she caught the glint of a long, sharp syringe in the free person’s hand. “Oh, these new mixes are extraordinary,” the one in black said, the voice was high pitched, obviously female. “All the pain of poisoning you, without the nasty side effect of you dying.”
The woman in black plunged the syringe into the bound man’s arm, and pushed down the plunger. He screamed an agonizing scream, that was choked off as he began to vomit. “I don’t expect you’ll last through the next few, but this has been very educational. I owe you many thanks,” the torturer said then laughed a terrifying laugh.
Vivian could watch no longer, and kicked the grate loose. It clattered to the metal floor, and Vivian followed, landing in a crouch talons extended. The woman in black turned to face her, a wide diabolical smile standing in stark contrast to the black latex mask that covered most of her face. She wore a long lab coat, also made from latex, over black leather scrubs. A sash across her chest held several syringes filled with green liquids. In each hands she also brandished long needles, holding them as if they were weapons.
“Oh, look Reginald,” she said, turning quickly to the man strapped down behind her, “another patient for Doctor Poison.”
Twenty Pieces of Silver Part 2
Police, Pets, and Patients
Inspector Josephine Tautin stared out over the scene in front of her. She couldn’t help but be amazed that despite the number of deceased, there was next to no carnage to accompany the deaths. A decontamination unit had already swept the premises and declared that there were no chemical or biological agents lingering within Le Malefosse that would make it unsafe for investigators. With a heavy sigh, she crossed the hardwood floor, careful to avoid the many blood pools that occupied the floor, to where the medical examiner was plunging his thermometer into the liver of another corpse. “Well?” she asked simply, standing over the crouching doctor.
The medical examiner shook his head, obviously confounded. “Cela n’a aucun sens,” he muttered under his breath repeatedly. With a sickening slurp he pulled the thermometer out of the body, and stood to face Josephine. “As far as I can tell,” he said, “everyone in this bar died at the same time. I’ve checked six of them already, but everything I see leads me to believe that each man and woman expired within seconds of each other.”
Unconsciously Josephine rubbed the back of her neck. She was already developing a headache. “There are no signs of a struggle, no visible injuries to any of the bodies. What could cause something like this doctor?”
Again the medical examiner shook his head. “I don’t know of any toxins that could cause this kind of reaction. We will of course run a full toxicology panel once we get them back to the morgue. Based on my cursory examination here, it looks like all of them suffered exsanguination, from their eye sockets. Though there are no wounds to that area of the body either.”
Josephine turned sharply on her heel, and headed toward the door. Over her shoulder she called back to the man, “Let me know as soon as you receive the tox results!”
***
‘Nine stories,’ Vivian thought to herself, looking down through the skylight atop the Revson building. ’I can land a nine story drop.’ She knew however that it wasn’t getting inside that would be the problem. The building undoubtedly had at least one security guard. That would not pose a problem either. The real challenge would be getting out before the police arrived. She had no way to disable the alarm system, and would have to rely on her own speed, intelligence and instincts to get the information she needed and get out before being discovered by responding police officers.
Vivian flexed her clawed fingers a few times. ’Cutting a hole in the glass shouldn’t set off any alarms,’ she thought as she pressed the tip of one talon to the glass. Carefully, Vivian traced a circle in the glass, then tapped it gently when the shape was complete. With uncanny speed she reached into the hole and caught the cut pane before it could fall more than a few inches. ‘Ici, rien ne va,’ she declared mentally, then dived through the hole.
Tucking her knees to her chest, Vivian tucked into a tight ball. She careened down the opening from the building’s ceiling toward the darkened lobby. As her body rolled head over feet, she kept track of the floors surrounding the passage, counting each as she fell. When she reached the third floor, she untucked, the tail from her cowl drifting upward as she herself continued down. A fully extended front flip, and she landed flawlessly on the plush carpeting of the lobby.
Quickly, Vivian studied her surroundings. No security guard was present in the lobby, for that she was thankful. She vaguely remembered her way to the research labs from when she had visited her father her as a child. She took off down the hallway to her left, careful to keep low, and try to notice any motion detectors that might give away her presence.
With great speed, she zigged and zagged from one side of the passage to the other, staying out of the line of sight of the three cameras that panned across the hall. The research facilities were one floor below, in the first of the building’s several basement levels. She came to a halt in front of the door to the stairwell. It required a keycard for entry.
For a moment, Vivian weighed her options. She could probably claw through the metal, cutting herself a path. Then again, she might be able to tear the door from its frame just as easily, and more quickly. Either option, however, would leave the unmistakable impression that someone had been there. She had hoped to get in and out without leaving a clue to what she was after. Daunted, Vivian was contemplating simply turning back and forgetting this entire endeavor. There were of course other ways to ferret out the source of the information leak from D’Armis to Revson.
Couched before the door as she was, Vivian turned to head back toward the lobby. Before she could even begin her retreat, she noticed a dim beam of light beginning to make it’s way down the corridor. ‘Flashlight,’ she thought, exasperated. She looked around, like a frightened animal, not sure what to do or where to go.
Yet, there was nowhere to run; nowhere to hide. She rolled into a corner, staying as far from the approaching guard’s light as she could. Fight or flight instincts began to kick in. Vivian forced herself to remain calm. As the man came ever closer, Vivian finally discovered her course of action. She could only hope that she would receive the results she desired.
She flicked her wrists, and the claws retracted back into their sheathes. Standing, Vivian tried her best to look as seductive as was possible when one was dressed as a fox, and cranked her pheromone levels up to maximum. She was emitting attraction for all she was worth. She stepped out from her hiding place, into the illumination of the light the short, chubby guard was holding in his left hand. “Bonjour,” she whispered breathily.
The man stopped short. He was unsure what to do exactly. All his training said that he was to find a way to subdue the intruder and call for the police. On the other hand, all his blood was rushing from his brain, downward to smaller, more important organs. “Mademoiselle?” he hiccupped.
Vivian stepped toward him, exuding sex into the air. “Vous me trouvez irrésistible, pas vous?” She placed one hand on his meaty chest and wrapped the other around his neck. Looking seductively into his eyes.
The man nodded and croaked out a labored, “Oui.”
Vivian’s face was scant inches from his own. Their lips almost touching as she gazed into his eyes. “Ensuite, ouvrez la porte pour moi, s'il vous plaît?”
The guard swallowed hard, and started forward. Vivian pulled back when she felt something poke her unromantically in the leg. She dialed down the pheromones a bit and slipped behind him as he made for the stairwell door. She kept her hands on his shoulders as he strode forward, fumbling for the electronic keycard that would provide access to the lower floors. “Oh, comme un bon garçon….” Vivian whispered in his ear as he slid the card through the reader and door clicked open.
He turned and looked at her longingly. She stared back at him, trying to hide the disgust and disbelief at what she was doing. “Maintenant, allez m'attendre dans le bureau le plus proche du hall d'entrée, sur la gauche,” she whispered to him again, this time her lips so close to his ear he could feel her hot breath teasingly on his lobe.
Vivian had ordered him to one of the offices to wait for her. She gave him a gentle pat on his behind as he started back toward the lobby. ‘The poor man thinks he’s going to get lucky tonight,’ she thought to herself as she turned away and began her decent into the research facility. She almost felt sorry for him and how she had treated him. ‘No real harm done,’ she reminded herself as she sprinted down the stairs.
***
Josephine Tautin rolled groggily under her bed sheets. She rubbed at her eyes and ran her fingers through her hair as her cellular continued to ring on the bedside table. Picking it up, just before it went to voicemail, she spat into the receiver, “Qu'est-ce?”
The caller on the other end was obviously startled by the harsh question, and there was a moment of silence before the girl on the line spoke up. “Inspecteur Tautin,” she said hesitantly, “ce n’est Olivia…” The young woman identified herself as calling from the medical examiner’s office. She apologized for calling so late and waking Josephine, but explained that she was under orders to call with the results of the toxicology report as soon as they were finished.
Josephine listened in silence as the girl describe how among the twenty-eight victims from the scene at Le Malefosse, none had any kind of foreign substances in their blood, besides alcohol; since it was a bar, the alcohol was hardly surprising. “Merci,” Josephine whispered from her end before cutting off the call and letting her head fall back on her pillow.
Stretching her muscles and rubbing once more at her eyes, Josephine recollected what they didn’t know about the case. Twenty-eight dead bodies, with no apparent cause of death. Each one of them had lost quarts of blood through their eye sockets, though there were no wounds to that area on any of the victims. No chemical or biological poisons had killed them. The symptoms, if she could call them that, didn’t match any known diseases. The only physical evidence that might shed some light was a wine glass and cigarette butt found on one of the back tables, but that didn’t necessarily belong to a murderer- more likely someone who was lucky enough to get out before the massacre began.
With no real leads, and only frustration, Josephine rolled onto her stomach and buried her face in her pillow. She sighed, the sound muffled by the feathered mass beneath her face, and resolved not to think any more about it until the sun was up at least.
***
‘Thank goodness for good record keeping,’ Vivian thought to herself as she rifled through the filing cabinets adjacent to the main lab. It didn’t take long to find the files on the formulas that had come from D’Armis. The papers inside were hard copies, printouts of e-mails from someone within the D’Armis organization. The culprit had been intelligent enough not to use their business address, however. All Vivian had to go on was the web-mail address printed in the header: judas4313@freemail.org. She made a mental note of it and stuffed the folders back into the drawer. She doubted there was anyone at D’Armis named after one of history’s most famous betrayers, but was confident that she could somehow use the information to track down the traitor.
Vivian turned toward the door, and crept quietly back through the dimly lit lab, ready to make her getaway. As she passed one of the ventilation ducts, however, a loud noise from the floor below caught her attention. It sounded like a scream. Vivian sidled over to the vent, putting her ear close to the grate, and listened.
A scream, loud and resounding, filled with terror and pain rose up through network of ducts and found it’s way to Vivian’s ear. Vivian had never heard the sounds of torture, but she knew upon hearing the screams and panting from below that this was what torture sounded like.
It took only a moment for Vivian to resolve a course of action. “In for a penny…” she whispered to herself, as another scream rose through the vent. If she wanted to be a costumed superhero, this was exactly the kind of thing that she would have to get used to. Vivian shoved her fingers through the openings in the grate and with a grunt, pulled it from the wall. She flicked her wrists again, and the six inch talons tipped her fingers once again, then she swung herself into the duct, sliding feet first toward the sounds of violence below.
***
In a tower of glass and steel, the woman in white sat in a dimly lit room. The carpet, the walls, the furnishings, everything in the room was the same unblemished white of her garb. Her white beret sat rumpled on the white coffee table, beside her propped up feet. Her jet black hair and crimson sunglasses provided the only color in the entire suite. Daintily, she lifted a white lacquered bell from the table at her side, and let it tinkle shortly before sitting it back down.
The white doors across the room swung open almost instantly. Two men, if they could be called that, strode in through the opening. They were squat, pudgy things, covered in lumps. Both of them wore nothing more than a white loin cloth, obscuring their private parts. They gazed at the floor as they crossed toward the woman in white, never looking up to meet her gaze. Between them, they pulled another man. He was tall, blond, muscular; a model of physical perfection really. He was naked, leashed and crawling on all fours. He tried to resist, but any time he refused to move further forward, they jerked indelicately on the leads, choking him into submission.
When they had reached the woman in white, each of the lumpy men tied their leash to legs of the coffee table. Then, they retreated quickly and silently from the room.
The woman in white then put her feet on the floor, kneeled in front of the man left behind. She put a hand under his chin, and jerked his head upward to look at her. “You were American. From the land of the Free,” she said to him, her voice little more than a whisper. “You are no longer American. You are no longer free.”
He tried to speak, tried to scream at her to let him go. His mouth moved, he managed some grunting noises, but it was nearly impossible for him to enunciate his words now that his tongue had been removed.
“I want a pet,” the woman in white said to him. “You will be my pet.” With her free hand, she removed her sunglasses, and forced him to look into the empty sockets where her eyes used to be. He stared, terrified, frozen in place with fear. She forced him to gaze into those black holes for what seemed like hours, then he noticed something moving inside. First it was just a single hornet, crawling slowly out of the empty socket, and down her cheek.
Then it was a swarm, hundreds of bees pouring out of her empty eyes and buzzing all around him. He tried again to scream as several of them stuck their stingers into his naked body. As his mouth opened to let out another gurgling grunt, the swarm turned as one, and each and every bee made it’s way into his maw, and down his throat.
***
Vivian landed almost silently one floor below, and peered through the grate into the room beyond. She could only make out two people through the narrow openings. One was strapped to a table, inclined so he was almost in a standing position, the only part of him that retained the capability of movement was his head. The other had it’s back to her, but was dressed all in black, a combination of patent leather and latex, right down to the shiny black mask that covered it’s head.
For a moment, Vivian thought she’d made a terrible mistake, and somehow wandered into someone’s bizarre sexual ritual. But then she caught the glint of a long, sharp syringe in the free person’s hand. “Oh, these new mixes are extraordinary,” the one in black said, the voice was high pitched, obviously female. “All the pain of poisoning you, without the nasty side effect of you dying.”
The woman in black plunged the syringe into the bound man’s arm, and pushed down the plunger. He screamed an agonizing scream, that was choked off as he began to vomit. “I don’t expect you’ll last through the next few, but this has been very educational. I owe you many thanks,” the torturer said then laughed a terrifying laugh.
Vivian could watch no longer, and kicked the grate loose. It clattered to the metal floor, and Vivian followed, landing in a crouch talons extended. The woman in black turned to face her, a wide diabolical smile standing in stark contrast to the black latex mask that covered most of her face. She wore a long lab coat, also made from latex, over black leather scrubs. A sash across her chest held several syringes filled with green liquids. In each hands she also brandished long needles, holding them as if they were weapons.
“Oh, look Reginald,” she said, turning quickly to the man strapped down behind her, “another patient for Doctor Poison.”