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Holy shit holy shit holy shit holy shit
Rock was utterly panicked. He didn't know what to do. He had never dealt with something like this - something so gruesome and horrendous. All of his confidence and bravado had drained away and he had all but broken into tears. The high was over, he had crashed - and had crashed hard. Just ten minutes ago, Rock thought he was the dangerous one in this compound… yes, he was strong. Yes, he was actually stronger than Shermie!… but he didn't have the stomach to even think about what she did. What she was capable of.
He stared at her downed form with something akin to horror. She didn't seem to care that she'd nearly been torn in half. She lay there, disemboweled with her guts spilling over the concrete floor, and laughing at his disgust. Her voice now, was the same sultry voice she had used just a few days ago when she had grabbed hold of him and asked to borrow his eyelashes to test some of her mascaras. Her expression was the same as always: Confident, vain, petty and playful. If she wasn't drenched in blood with a knife's hilt buried in her eye socket, Rock would have never imagined she was on the brink of death… re-death.
There was no remorse in what remained in her face. Not pain, not even discomfort. She chuckled up at him with a voice too calm and easy to be produced by those ruined lungs.
"Awww, You won the game, little duckling! You look so adorable all riled up like that~ If I could, I'd pinch you! Hehe~"
Her flippancy grated on his ears, he had beaten her, but she didn't seem to care. He wanted to strike her again, but he couldn't. It would have made his heart sick. There was already enough blood spilled today. Shermie was torn asunder, blown to bits by that horrid venomous energy that flooded his head and crackled through his veins just moments ago. Her torso was a couple of paces beside him, leaking rancid blood across the floor. Her legs and abdomen were against the far wall; they were thrashing about and obviously out of her control. She saw him twisting to stare at them, and tsked.
"Ah, don't mind those. It's a tad scary, but I promise they won't hurt you~ " She lifted a broken arm to touch her lip and attempt a 'cute' gesture. She seemed disappointed when her arm seized up, and began thrashing in the same fashion as her legs. "Hmph. "
Rock's voice came out with a croak. He was kneeling on the floor and cradling Whip's trembling form against his chest. When he first burst into that room, he had focused on that heaving form he thought to be Shermie. It wasn't Shermie. It was Whip, gagged and hung from the ceiling by her wrists. The moment the light's went on - he saw her. She was beaten, nearly beyond recognition. There was blood everywhere, and the room smelled of burnt flesh. Who knows how long Shermie had been torturing her…
That wasn't the worst of it. Burns would heal. Bruises faded… and Whip was strong. She could deal with the psychological shock. But… but her eyes!
Rock twisted and shouted at Shermie, trying to mask his despair with anger.
"You… Why? Why would you do this!"
Shermie continued laughing, but this time, her voice was clearly ethereal. Her body had given up, and now even the head and torso were thrashing so violently, they were merely blurs. Bits of flesh and blood flung from her abandoned body as it whipped it's limbs about. Rock scooped Seirah up and carried her clear of the terrifying remains of their enemy. He needed to get her to a hospital. She wasn't bleeding much, but many of her lacerations were blackened and cauterized. Her skin was angry, red and tender, likely from Shermie's electric shocks.
But... her eyes.
Ah shit! Fuck! ungh...
Whip's eyes had been gouged out. He saw their remains crushed on the floor. Rock could hardly look at her face anymore. It was painful just to see. The torn, sunken eye-lids drooped into her orbital cavity. Dark, coagulated blood caught in her eyelids and left muddy streaks down her face. The sight of her, the one who had come to rescue him, maimed to this degree was almost more than he could bear. He had never felt so guilty in his life. Was it his fault? If only he hadn't been stupid and listened to Terry, when he told him to steer clear from CYS. To stick close to Iori... You idiot! Aagh!
He held Whip close. Her head drooped against him, and his white T-shirt rapidly began turning red. Her movement wasn't fluid like it normally was. Her fingers were rigid, frozen and twisted. Her whole body shook, trembled. Rock wasn't sure if she was shaking from fear - or if it was involuntarily. She was disoriented too- perhaps a concussion? She hadn't spoken a word to him since he rushed in and cut her down from the ceiling. Does she know who I am?
"Why did I do it? Ohhh, Rocky dear?... Why do you think?..."
Shermie's voice spoke from the shadows. It was beginning to waver and grow faint - as if she were returning to the hell she had come from. Rock gritted his teeth and fixed his eyes forward, refusing to turn and listen. He heard Shermie's bones snapping and flesh slapping wetly as it convulsed on the floor. He didn't want to see anymore of it, he already knew he would see it tonight in his nightmares. He turned his back and stood carefully to make his way to the door - careful not to slip on the ground. It was slick with seawater.
Behind him, Shermie continued. Her voice was gleeful.
I did it because I'm strong, and I wanted to. That's the kind of world we live in~"
Rock refused to acknowledge her or reply. He needed to get out of here, because Whip - who until this moment had done nothing but lay trembling in his arms - seized the front of the shirt and choked out: "Rock… g-go!"
He obeyed and shouldered open the door. As he hurried down the hallway, Shermie's voice echoed after him.
"Ta-Ta mon gars~ I'll see you next year."
Ta-ta :)
Floppy Shermie Out!
