"It's quite interesting," the man said, the pair of scalpels in each of his hands brushing against each other with the clink of metal as he stood with his back to the boy on his knees. "The durability of a human body is determined by several factors - and when you break them down, one by one, the psyche reacts in amusing ways. It's like a puzzle. For the greatest measure of stability, a steady amount of pain dealt over a broader period of time is favorable. For the most torture, increments of slow, increasingly violent pain is preferred. And, if you wish to truly break someone," he continued, turning towards the sigils aglow beneath the dejected youth's knees with a wildly ecstatic look, "well, that is truly where a masterpiece lies. You can meld a human mind to whatever your wishes may be. There are some particularly beautiful samples that you and your accomplice destroyed, I'm afraid."
"You're sick," came the hoarse reply.
"Sick?" The man arched his brows. "Sick? Maybe. But you? You are just another stupid, fool-hardy boy walking into a death trap with his eyes closed. I'd say you're in no position to be making judgments of character." He bent down before Walter, lifting his chin with the sharp edge of the scalpel and leering down into his face. "Either way, you'll bleed red, and that's all that matters to me."
Though he felt as if he had been kicked and tousled rather thoroughly by a herd of horses, Walter still had the strength to offer a mocking smile. This did not seem to phase his captor, for the man only laughed softly before laying a hand on Walter's shoulder and pushing him back. His entire body limp, he had no choice but to collapse backwards upon the strange, luminous glyph scrawled across the floor.
The Angel of Death stared up at the ceiling, not feeling at all like a man deserving of his title. He had let his arrogance blind him to the true happenings in the village, and walked head-first into the vampire's carefully planned ministrations, which seemed to include experimenting with occult rituals on his very headhunters. Foolish pride.
His jaw clenched painfully tight as the scalpel brushed across his throat, cutting a thin, fine line just above his collarbones from one end to the other. The sickening sensation of a wet, coarse tongue sliding over the wound was quick to follow, making his stomach turn in disgust. It was frustrating beyond words, shameful beyond comprehension - he could do nothing but lie limp as a doll and leave the creature to it's whims. Rage burned uselessly in his heart, making his blood boil. Beside his ear, a throaty chuckle escaped the man's mouth.
"Your blood is sweet," he whispered. "Some prefer the blood of aged men, but me... Me, I've always enjoyed savoring the taste of youth."
"Get off me, you bloody freak," he barked contemptuously, trying to raise his head but failing miserably. Whatever the detestable creature had done, he was becoming more and more numb by the moment. He could no longer feel his feet or hands, and the loss of sensation was creeping up his limbs like a spreading plague.
"Quiet down, or your might bite off your tongue carelessly," the man replied, continuing to lick across the welling blood of Walter's throat. "I have to pay you back for cutting off my head. That's not good manners. Very poor manners, in fact."
Walter had been about to offer a sarcastic retort in return when fingers were abruptly jammed into his mouth, seizing his wriggling tongue. "I could always cut this off, just to be sure... but then I run the risk of you choking on your own blood. That would be unfortunate. Wouldn't it?"
Fiery fury flickered within the contents of Walter's eyes as he stared up at the twisted vampire, his heavy breathing and muffled grunts of effort his only available reply. Move, damnit! He demanded himself, but his body would not comply. The cold numbness was consuming him whole, and he could do nothing to stop it.
"There there," the man said cheerfully, resting Walter's head back down upon the cement and releasing his tongue, sitting up as he tapped the scalpel to the boy's jaw. "I just need to bleed you dry for the last little bit of this to work. And when it's finished... you can become another one of my masterpieces, perhaps my best yet. Your unique talents are impressive."
The Angel of Death wanted nothing greater than to be able to wipe the smug smirk off the face of his oppressor, but his body was next to useless. Haziness was already begun to taint the fringes of his vision; he must have been losing more blood than he thought. How long had he been here? He could no longer remember. Grimacing, he cast his eyes everywhere at once in an effort to determine some way to escape the man's clutches.
He felt the weight of the man ebb away slowly and judged that he must've risen. There was the sound of metal against metal, a sort of clanking, and then an acute and brilliant agony sprang up from his chest. His eyes shot wide open, mouth opening to release a howl, yet nothing escaped him. He was trapped within his own body, forced to watch and feel as the sick, twisted creature dug his instruments of torture into his flesh that he couldn't combat or defend himself from. He was... failing, so miserably... and what hurt more than the physical agony was the damage to his pride.
Tisk-tisk, little Angel. Letting yourself get caught up like this is very unlike you. Aren't you the one supposed to be pulling the strings?
The cocky, endlessly humored voice filled his mind - an all too familiar voice, at that, and despite himself, he felt a wild-eyed smile overtaking his face. The man must've seen it, for his expression promptly changed from satisfaction and hazy bloodlust to perplexity. Rising to his feet, the man wiped his bloodied hands on his white shirt, returning his silver utensils of torture to the tray on which they had been resting in the corner. Seconds later, Walter could hear the man's voice - muffled as though his own ears were filled with water.
"So, it appears you didn't succumb to the minions after all. Aren't you a bit young to be doing this sort of thing?"
The sickly-sweet reply was one that sent a thrill running through Walter's chest, goose bumps rising at the level of elation pulsing through his blood.
"How disappointing," came the childish, high-pitched voice of none other than Alucard. "This is who managed to mar my pretty little Angel?"
A scoff, and the man tilted his head to the white-clad girl, crossing his arms over his chest. "Young and mouthy. Shouldn't you be scampering home to mommy?"
Alucard laughed, and Walter heard the click of the safety being removed from the Casull. A nearly maniacal smile up took his lips. Soon, the vampire would be no more than a mass of blood and gore upon those eerily glowing sigils.
"Now now, don't be hasty," the man said, and Walter tilted his eyes slowly to look find the bastard in his sights. His hazy figure had moved before Walter, standing between him and Alucard. "It would be a terrible shame if you were to kill me before I released the binds on this boy. Why, he would die in no more than an hour."
There was a brief silence. Walter could hear his own heartbeat in his ears, pulsing fast and uneven with the agonizing torture of waiting, before the man spoke again.
"Now, how about you put that away? Your cooperation would make things go much, much better for you. I could finish what I've started here and take my leave, as you've managed to ruin most of the work I'd started in this place."
As he was talking, Walter felt his body moving as though of it's own volition. He sat up, head falling limply forward, and began to crawl haphazardly to his feet; his entire body burned in protest with nearly mind-numbing pain - the godforsaken bastard had spared him no short amount of agony, it seemed; with his head slumped like this, he could see the remainders of the silver rods still sticking out of his abdomen - yet it mattered little. His hands rose, the near untraceable line of wires becoming taut between his fingers.
Alucard lifted a brow beneath his dark bangs, a sort of pleased smile glittering to light up his eyes and capture his lips. "Oho," he said. "Puppeteer."
The vampire chuckled, moving aside and letting Walter stagger past his shoulder towards Alucard. "You came to find your friend," he said with a laugh. "Don't let me interrupt your reunion."
