Cruel and unusual punishment, dear ones? How I love to torture everyone. Special thanks to Kurt, continuing on his path to inspire my inner sociopath. Okey dokey, here we go, the GD to the rescue, so we won't have grated Parmesan Clarice. Hope you've been having as much fin as I, dear ones. Ta-ta and on with the torture.
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The screams issuing from the upstairs hall, muffled only slightly from the closed bedroom door, caused the good doctor to freeze in his tracks. For one of the very few times in his life, fear had rooted him to the spot. His mind races, retrieving images of his sister from the locked rooms where they are kept. Seeing her blood trailed on the snow, feeling the pain in his arm as the heavy bark door is slammed shut on it. Finding her teethe days alter in the stool pit. Perspiration beads Dr. Lecter's forehead momentarily as he comes to a decision. He will not lose Clarice to the monsters as he had lost Mischa.
Dr. Lecter is quick and nimble on his feet, and he ascends the stair with little difficulty. The screams from Clarice are enough to mask any noise he might make on the stairs. The sap is exchanged for the Harpy as he pauses momentarily outside the bedroom door. His pulse rate is slightly above one hundred from the run up the stairs, but quickly returns to normal. He hears the pleading sobs from Clarice, and he can smell the scent of torn flesh and fresh blood heavy and metallic on the air. Underneath it, he can hear the bedsprings creak as the monster shifts, probably preparing to hurt Clarice again. There is no time to waste.
*****
Conrad's head whipped to the door as it opened, letting a shadow into the room, the length of it falling across the bed and his sacrifice's ruined back. He did not have time to react well as the shadow crossed the length of the room, snarling and baring its teeth like a wolverine. The shadow was atop him, pulling him off the bed and throwing him against the far wall. Darryl hit the drywall and almost went through it, his arm was stopped by a stud, and the force of the hit caused a fracture in his arm. He growled and pushed himself to his feet, seeing that the shadow was cutting the bonds that held his sacrifice. He wobbled as he stood, but it was not Darryl at all when he lunged back across the room.
*****
It is an unusual sight, and a rare one indeed dear one, to see Dr. Hannibal Lecter in a position of compassion. Careful with the Harpy, he cuts the ropes that bind his dear Clarice to the bed. Her wrists are raw from scraping against the nylon rope, and he takes care not to hurt her anymore than she already has been. Her eyes water as she connects with his, slowly recognizing him through the haze of pain. We hear a quiet whisper issue from her lips, and watch as the good doctor wipes at some of the tears. He is careful to avoid touching the cut in her cheek, the blood now mingled with the tears. We can see his lips move as he whispers to her, his scarred left hand stroking the auburn hair. His gaze leaves her and he draws a sharp intake of breath at the sight of her back. He rises to his feet, looking at the damage that the monster has done. It is very painful, dear one, as that is evidenced by Clarice's current state and the continuing gasps and sobs from her lips.
Dr. Lecter knows that it will leave a scar on his dear Clarice, one that will be physical as well as mental. It will also leave a scar on him, knowing that he was not able to rescue her before she was harmed. At least, and it was the tiniest of consolations, she was not dead, had not met the same fate as little Mischa. He is leaning closer to examine the wound as we see him twist suddenly, Harpy bared and lashing out quick. The blade catches the Dragon across the abdomen, and almost instantly blood begins to seep through his shirt as a look of surprise crosses his face. Another flash of the Harpy as the Doctor is upon him again.
Clarice cannot see much from her limited viewpoint, but she can hear the grunts from both men as they struggle. Another wave of pain washes over her as she moves slightly, and she blacks out.
*****
Clarice feels herself jolted as she is pulled from the bed. Strong hands and arms roll her over onto her back, and even in her half-conscious state she screams. The realization that the arms that are lifting her are not Dr. Lecter's roars defiantly in her brain. She catches a glimpse of the Dragon's face before her eyes slide shut again. Where was Hannibal Lecter? Forcing her eyes open again, she looks about the room from her jolting position. There, next to the door, he lay limply against the wall. Unconscious, judging from the form. Her one chance at living, was now out cold. She felt her stomach twist terribly, almost on par with the pain in her back. She could feel the rough cotton of her captor's shirt rub against her wounds, causing sparks to fly before her eyes, but it didn't erase the image of the Doctor limp against the wall.
The basement of the duplex is dark and musty, home to an innumerable number of spiders. Cobwebs hung from the ceiling and brushed against the Dragon's head as he passed through them. Clarice feels something plop against her leg and scurry along the nylons. In her current state, the thought of a Brown Recluse was not enough to frighten her. She felt herself lowered and shoved roughly against a wall. She emitted a scream at the rough concrete pushing into her ruined back. If the Dragon noticed, he didn't give any sign. He grabbed her hands and bound them tightly together in her lap, then he moved to her ankles. he gave a satisfied grunt and stepped back to survey her.
*****
Dr. Lecter groaned as he came crashing back to consciousness. The world swam as he opened his eyes to look upon the bedroom. He had been caught off guard when his opponent had punched him solidly in the throat. He estimated that he had only been out for a few moments, but it was enough time for the situation to have changed. He pushed himself up and saw that Clarice was no longer on the bed, nor was the Dragon anywhere to be seen in the room. He carefully rose and leaned against the wall while he fought to get his balance back. A trickle of fear found its way into his calm and he lit upon it instantly. His sister's blood on the snow rose before his eyes, the memory as pale and frightening as a ghost. No, he will not let the fate of death come to Clarice. He lurches from the wall, and opens the door, stepping out into the lit hall. Pausing there, Lecter closes his eyes and lets himself think. He moves down the stairs, hoping he is right in knowing where they had gone.
*****
The house shivers and creaks in the night, the only witness to the events that are transpiring within its walls. The shadows watch as Lecter makes his way down the stairs, left hand firmly on the rail, guiding him in the semi-darkness. A light flares beneath the door to the basement, as the floorboards creak softly beneath him. The sound has given him away, as the shadows in the basement see the Dragon look to the ceiling. Clarice's tears fall from her face to the cold concrete below, and the Dragon steps towards her again. Footsteps becoming clearer as they come down the stairs, slowing as time draws itself out in sheer torture. Hannibal Lecter must hurry now, if he wishes to spare Clarice of her fate.
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