Re: The Gradual Massacre (GBS2G4) [Round 1: Focal High School]
07-10-2010, 06:07 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by Schazer.
The Countess' ticking march through the ankle-deep waters on the first floor paused for a moment as the whole building trembled, then quickened again as a thunderous crash signaled the upper floors collapsing. Moments later, the lights overhead gave one final flicker, before giving up for good as a tiny wave rippled up the corridor.
Skittering through the gloom, steps masked with the now-worryingly proximal patter of rain on the roof, the Countess headed for the main doors of the school; pausing at the top of the stairs beneath the shelter of the eaves. A vicious twister whipped its way across the parking lot, snatching up a car and dashing it on the concrete. Glancing into the wind, the amalgam noted the black clouds heading their way, and called out to the ragged little scrap curled near the wreck of the sedan.
"Come on out of the rain, my dear."
Lust raised her weary head, fervently hoping this was a friendly face. Though the Countess' nightmarish features could hardly qualify as 'friendly' under the best of circumstances, it was someone who hadn't tried to kill her. Lust wasn't going to quibble, but a terrified glance up at the decapitated silhouette of the building made it clear she'd rather take her chances out in the storm. The amalgam raised its claws in supplication, the mangled left pointed to the stampeding thunderhead.
Lust admired the weatherbeaten, dented shape of the left hand, against the surgically-precise lines of the right. Jaws ratcheted open, smirking with needles; the pitted fingers twitched, beckoning. The demon weighed up her options for only a few moments more, then stood and stalked over to the Countess. The wind was picking up; the rain finding its bite again.
"Really, it's not so bad in here," trilled the Countess, hastening the demon in and pulling the main doors shut behind her, trying to drown out the disconcerting creaks with her false cheerfulness.
"B-but the-"
"Despicable scum we've been forced to fight? This loathsome battle to the death?" Lust nodded, and the Countess laughed in that trilling falsetto. "They're rats, darling. Crawling in the basement like the filth they are. I could barely stand their squeaking, I nearly shut the doors on them and let the poor things drown." The spider's grin widened as the sadistic words sent Lust cowering, dragging out Wrath.
"Hello, dear. To whom do I have the sinful pleasure of speaking?"
"Quit your chiming, clockwork, and tell me which ones were down there."
"Wrath, I presume? Hmm... No female voices, I'm afraid. If you'd care to do the dirty work, please, be my guest. Then it's simply you and me against those harlots, and with any luck we may find a way out without distractions. What do you say?"
Wrath had no time to ask how the Countess knew about his run-in with Acacia and Holly, but the monster's logic was sound. "Fine. But any scheming and I won't pause to kill you. In fact," he snarled, drawing his knife, "you lead the way." The Countess shrugged as she headed for the stairs, fastidiously extracting a twitching bit of leg from the gears in her side.
They reached the downward staircase with minimum disturbance, pausing only when a crack in the ceiling showered water or plaster, or when they were interrupted by an ominous groan. The Countess glanced around, and slid her fingers behind a block of lockers, trying to lever them out. Pleased to have something to do other than walking, Wrath yanked it out and rammed it in place.
"Now, we wait."
Wrath scowled at this proposition, then grinned. "Or," he suggested, "I see how much damage you can take, clockwork, to make sure you won't try stabbing me in the back." A fist swung forward, and connected with the skull of cogs, the Countess crashing into a locker, her previously closed jaw springing fully open with the impact (the instrument that modulated her voice had no need of oxygen, and didn't need her to open her mouth).
A lone Ouroborite, freed from its steely prison, tumbled out and was pierced by a wayward steel foot, its ichor darkening the water around it. Wrath, worked into a fury, didn't see it in the gloom, instead sinking the knife into the Countess' shoulder with the protesting squeal of metal on metal. The Countess was downed with a kick to the legs, when her clear voice sang out again, unnervingly unchanged by the attack.
"Look up."
From the cracks in the ceiling, Ouroborites were swarming. Wrath ceased his assault and saw all down the corridor, they were dropping through from the upper floor, gathering in their droves as they approached the stink emitted by their dead comrade, and its cries of fresh meat. Their skittering steps were audible as they scrabbled across the walls, the tops of the lockers, all over each other in their frenzy. Wrath had fled; leaving a barely-comprehending Lucas to stare, frozen with shock at his predicament, at the Countess. A clicking, jarring chuckle joined Ouroboros' cacophony as the horde gathered, paused, then closed the ring around Lucas as one hungry wave.
"Just keep perfectly still, dear."
The Countess' ticking march through the ankle-deep waters on the first floor paused for a moment as the whole building trembled, then quickened again as a thunderous crash signaled the upper floors collapsing. Moments later, the lights overhead gave one final flicker, before giving up for good as a tiny wave rippled up the corridor.
Skittering through the gloom, steps masked with the now-worryingly proximal patter of rain on the roof, the Countess headed for the main doors of the school; pausing at the top of the stairs beneath the shelter of the eaves. A vicious twister whipped its way across the parking lot, snatching up a car and dashing it on the concrete. Glancing into the wind, the amalgam noted the black clouds heading their way, and called out to the ragged little scrap curled near the wreck of the sedan.
"Come on out of the rain, my dear."
Lust raised her weary head, fervently hoping this was a friendly face. Though the Countess' nightmarish features could hardly qualify as 'friendly' under the best of circumstances, it was someone who hadn't tried to kill her. Lust wasn't going to quibble, but a terrified glance up at the decapitated silhouette of the building made it clear she'd rather take her chances out in the storm. The amalgam raised its claws in supplication, the mangled left pointed to the stampeding thunderhead.
Lust admired the weatherbeaten, dented shape of the left hand, against the surgically-precise lines of the right. Jaws ratcheted open, smirking with needles; the pitted fingers twitched, beckoning. The demon weighed up her options for only a few moments more, then stood and stalked over to the Countess. The wind was picking up; the rain finding its bite again.
"Really, it's not so bad in here," trilled the Countess, hastening the demon in and pulling the main doors shut behind her, trying to drown out the disconcerting creaks with her false cheerfulness.
"B-but the-"
"Despicable scum we've been forced to fight? This loathsome battle to the death?" Lust nodded, and the Countess laughed in that trilling falsetto. "They're rats, darling. Crawling in the basement like the filth they are. I could barely stand their squeaking, I nearly shut the doors on them and let the poor things drown." The spider's grin widened as the sadistic words sent Lust cowering, dragging out Wrath.
"Hello, dear. To whom do I have the sinful pleasure of speaking?"
"Quit your chiming, clockwork, and tell me which ones were down there."
"Wrath, I presume? Hmm... No female voices, I'm afraid. If you'd care to do the dirty work, please, be my guest. Then it's simply you and me against those harlots, and with any luck we may find a way out without distractions. What do you say?"
Wrath had no time to ask how the Countess knew about his run-in with Acacia and Holly, but the monster's logic was sound. "Fine. But any scheming and I won't pause to kill you. In fact," he snarled, drawing his knife, "you lead the way." The Countess shrugged as she headed for the stairs, fastidiously extracting a twitching bit of leg from the gears in her side.
They reached the downward staircase with minimum disturbance, pausing only when a crack in the ceiling showered water or plaster, or when they were interrupted by an ominous groan. The Countess glanced around, and slid her fingers behind a block of lockers, trying to lever them out. Pleased to have something to do other than walking, Wrath yanked it out and rammed it in place.
"Now, we wait."
Wrath scowled at this proposition, then grinned. "Or," he suggested, "I see how much damage you can take, clockwork, to make sure you won't try stabbing me in the back." A fist swung forward, and connected with the skull of cogs, the Countess crashing into a locker, her previously closed jaw springing fully open with the impact (the instrument that modulated her voice had no need of oxygen, and didn't need her to open her mouth).
A lone Ouroborite, freed from its steely prison, tumbled out and was pierced by a wayward steel foot, its ichor darkening the water around it. Wrath, worked into a fury, didn't see it in the gloom, instead sinking the knife into the Countess' shoulder with the protesting squeal of metal on metal. The Countess was downed with a kick to the legs, when her clear voice sang out again, unnervingly unchanged by the attack.
"Look up."
From the cracks in the ceiling, Ouroborites were swarming. Wrath ceased his assault and saw all down the corridor, they were dropping through from the upper floor, gathering in their droves as they approached the stink emitted by their dead comrade, and its cries of fresh meat. Their skittering steps were audible as they scrabbled across the walls, the tops of the lockers, all over each other in their frenzy. Wrath had fled; leaving a barely-comprehending Lucas to stare, frozen with shock at his predicament, at the Countess. A clicking, jarring chuckle joined Ouroboros' cacophony as the horde gathered, paused, then closed the ring around Lucas as one hungry wave.
"Just keep perfectly still, dear."
peace to the unsung peace to the martyrs | i'm johnny rotten appleseed
clouds is shaky love | broke as hell but i got a bunch of ringtones
eyes blood red bruise aubergine | Sue took something now Sue doesn't sleep | saint average, day in the life of
woke up in the noon smelling doom and death | out the house, great outdoors
staying warm in arctic blizzard | that's my battle 'til I get inanimate | still up in the same clothes living like a gameshow
clouds is shaky love | broke as hell but i got a bunch of ringtones
eyes blood red bruise aubergine | Sue took something now Sue doesn't sleep | saint average, day in the life of
woke up in the noon smelling doom and death | out the house, great outdoors
staying warm in arctic blizzard | that's my battle 'til I get inanimate | still up in the same clothes living like a gameshow