Post by The Mouth on Jul 26, 2014 14:51:09 GMT -8
"What is it Richter?" he starts with, irritated at the interruption. He has an expedition to plan, bridges to rebuild; fucking magic rocks...
"Francis! Glad you could make it. Did you know that I am on the cusp of my enlightment?" Richter is almost vibrating with eagerness; eerie in that he can turn that on or off with a flick of a switch.
"Greeeat?" he replies. Hopefully this is going to be have little impact; he has come to hate Richter and everything he stands for: Power of a scale and scope that he could never hope to attain. Power to keep the mortals safe from the predations of Kindred, to keep his friends and allies secure, power to make the world a little less fucked up.
"Yup. And you are now the next step."
His world freezes, crystalizes. He's not in the meeting room that Richter holds court in, he's in the lab. The fucking lab. He tries to get to the door, but it slams shut. He can hear the bolts slide home. He spins around, knowing his Presence is useless, that Richter can ruin him with a thought, and his blood, his vitae flies across the room and into a jar that Richter is holding.
He draws his sword and charges, only to be met by Richter's blade, then more vitae is taken from him, he swings again, desperate when Richter soothingly tells him "You're not dead Francis. I need you."
Looking down, Francis realizes he is wearing red converse. "Little present from me, Francis," Richter grins.
Everything is gelid, slow, moving oddly. He's been drugged, somehow... He feels the needle in his back, thrown by Richter's servant. The world spins, and he goes dark.
***
He wakes up, for a moment, due to a wrenching at his shoulder, the left one. He looks over, and his arm is gone, Richter looking at with curiosity. He must have moaned, because Richter shouts with delight, "Francis! This is going extremely well. Back to sleep!"
It goes dark again.
***
He is strapped into a chair this time, a dentists chair. Things are happening, chanting, then blood is pouring into him, more blood than he can hold, it feels like, it burns, it hurts, he is smoking, seared.
"Good bye Francis. You were a useful if somewhat treacherous little fucker. Yeah, you told me everything, mind to mind. So, time for you to die." Richter swims into focus, his hands stab down, and Francis burns, he burns, I burn.
I am burning, with magic, with will, I am burning. I am dying, and I know it, because Richter has to be that kind of asshole to the end.
I say good bye to the girls, gather my will, and I try to bite Richter. He is surprised that I could even try, laughs with delight, and the flames grow.
And I die.
"Francis! Glad you could make it. Did you know that I am on the cusp of my enlightment?" Richter is almost vibrating with eagerness; eerie in that he can turn that on or off with a flick of a switch.
"Greeeat?" he replies. Hopefully this is going to be have little impact; he has come to hate Richter and everything he stands for: Power of a scale and scope that he could never hope to attain. Power to keep the mortals safe from the predations of Kindred, to keep his friends and allies secure, power to make the world a little less fucked up.
"Yup. And you are now the next step."
His world freezes, crystalizes. He's not in the meeting room that Richter holds court in, he's in the lab. The fucking lab. He tries to get to the door, but it slams shut. He can hear the bolts slide home. He spins around, knowing his Presence is useless, that Richter can ruin him with a thought, and his blood, his vitae flies across the room and into a jar that Richter is holding.
He draws his sword and charges, only to be met by Richter's blade, then more vitae is taken from him, he swings again, desperate when Richter soothingly tells him "You're not dead Francis. I need you."
Looking down, Francis realizes he is wearing red converse. "Little present from me, Francis," Richter grins.
Everything is gelid, slow, moving oddly. He's been drugged, somehow... He feels the needle in his back, thrown by Richter's servant. The world spins, and he goes dark.
***
He wakes up, for a moment, due to a wrenching at his shoulder, the left one. He looks over, and his arm is gone, Richter looking at with curiosity. He must have moaned, because Richter shouts with delight, "Francis! This is going extremely well. Back to sleep!"
It goes dark again.
***
He is strapped into a chair this time, a dentists chair. Things are happening, chanting, then blood is pouring into him, more blood than he can hold, it feels like, it burns, it hurts, he is smoking, seared.
"Good bye Francis. You were a useful if somewhat treacherous little fucker. Yeah, you told me everything, mind to mind. So, time for you to die." Richter swims into focus, his hands stab down, and Francis burns, he burns, I burn.
I am burning, with magic, with will, I am burning. I am dying, and I know it, because Richter has to be that kind of asshole to the end.
I say good bye to the girls, gather my will, and I try to bite Richter. He is surprised that I could even try, laughs with delight, and the flames grow.
And I die.
