The Murder
Theoretical Mayhem
I still don't own anything. Stop reminding me.
Vincent hit the ground hard. All of his nerves were on fire as the ballistic tip slammed into his chest. His mind spiraled into hundreds of directions and his coherence faded. His attacker turned into a looming wraith, tendrils of it's being fluttering into the darkness that now consumed the ill lit lab.
"It's over, whore." The voice was distorted, wavering, then becoming two different and simultaneous tones. "This is the end."
"Lucretia..." his own voice broke in the same manner. His own hard tone blending into the much deeper and sinister tone. He tried to get to his feet, but something slammed into his body and knocked him down again.
"Do you know what you've done? No, of course you don't. You've interfered with the progression of man, Mr. Valentine. What if you tainted the sample?! What if, instead of being the perfect replication of the Cetra, you're disgusting filth infected the specimen and ruined it all?! We can't have that no, no we can't, can we? Stay down whore, it'll hurt allot less." Hojo's shoe connected on Vincent's rib cage, causing him to spit out blood. The tiny red steam raced down the side of his face and stained the cold stone floor. His lungs were on fire and he felt like the world had lost all of it's air. He struggled for the potion in his pocket as the instincts of self preservation filled his cloudy mind. A new round pierced his flesh, shattering a bone in his arm. He tried to cry out, but his voice was choked by blood. "But that's not all, debauch! You stole the only person I thought was pure and perverted her, as well as yourself." The voice became softer, almost pitiful. "You tainted yourself. You were mine! I wanted you for myself!" He felt his body get plucked from the ground. It was all so unreal, like he wasn't really there. The voice in his head was crying out, howling sheer anger and terror. His arm hung limply to his side, his other one was reaching out weakly to strike his assailant. "You need to be punished like the rest of them! They were all whores! All of them!" Hojo's voice caught for a moment. "You weren't like them. You were different. You were like me..."
Vincent felt his body plummet downward. His senses failed him. The world was dark, and still, and quiet. There was a twinge of pain, but it felt so distant that it didn't bother him. After some time unknown, the world seemed to brighten, and become warmer, like he was swimming in a beautiful ocean of blue and green. Somewhere he could here Lucretia calling to him, telling him to join her. That it was all right now. That he could rest. She was about to say something else, but there was silence again. The world was swallowed by a darkness that made him choke and writhe and want to scream. His essence was on fire and rising fast. He was being ripped from his peace and he couldn't stop the upward spiral into what seemed like oblivion.
He woke up. His head slammed rudely into something. He thrashed for a moment in his confusion, thinking he'd sleepwalked into a closet during a nightmare. It was cold and dark and there wasn't enough space to move. He tried calling out but there was no reply. He tried to pound on the walls of his strange prison only to find cloth lining muffling his attempts. He was trapped.
Theoretical Mayhem
I still don't own anything. Stop reminding me.
Vincent hit the ground hard. All of his nerves were on fire as the ballistic tip slammed into his chest. His mind spiraled into hundreds of directions and his coherence faded. His attacker turned into a looming wraith, tendrils of it's being fluttering into the darkness that now consumed the ill lit lab.
"It's over, whore." The voice was distorted, wavering, then becoming two different and simultaneous tones. "This is the end."
"Lucretia..." his own voice broke in the same manner. His own hard tone blending into the much deeper and sinister tone. He tried to get to his feet, but something slammed into his body and knocked him down again.
"Do you know what you've done? No, of course you don't. You've interfered with the progression of man, Mr. Valentine. What if you tainted the sample?! What if, instead of being the perfect replication of the Cetra, you're disgusting filth infected the specimen and ruined it all?! We can't have that no, no we can't, can we? Stay down whore, it'll hurt allot less." Hojo's shoe connected on Vincent's rib cage, causing him to spit out blood. The tiny red steam raced down the side of his face and stained the cold stone floor. His lungs were on fire and he felt like the world had lost all of it's air. He struggled for the potion in his pocket as the instincts of self preservation filled his cloudy mind. A new round pierced his flesh, shattering a bone in his arm. He tried to cry out, but his voice was choked by blood. "But that's not all, debauch! You stole the only person I thought was pure and perverted her, as well as yourself." The voice became softer, almost pitiful. "You tainted yourself. You were mine! I wanted you for myself!" He felt his body get plucked from the ground. It was all so unreal, like he wasn't really there. The voice in his head was crying out, howling sheer anger and terror. His arm hung limply to his side, his other one was reaching out weakly to strike his assailant. "You need to be punished like the rest of them! They were all whores! All of them!" Hojo's voice caught for a moment. "You weren't like them. You were different. You were like me..."
Vincent felt his body plummet downward. His senses failed him. The world was dark, and still, and quiet. There was a twinge of pain, but it felt so distant that it didn't bother him. After some time unknown, the world seemed to brighten, and become warmer, like he was swimming in a beautiful ocean of blue and green. Somewhere he could here Lucretia calling to him, telling him to join her. That it was all right now. That he could rest. She was about to say something else, but there was silence again. The world was swallowed by a darkness that made him choke and writhe and want to scream. His essence was on fire and rising fast. He was being ripped from his peace and he couldn't stop the upward spiral into what seemed like oblivion.
He woke up. His head slammed rudely into something. He thrashed for a moment in his confusion, thinking he'd sleepwalked into a closet during a nightmare. It was cold and dark and there wasn't enough space to move. He tried calling out but there was no reply. He tried to pound on the walls of his strange prison only to find cloth lining muffling his attempts. He was trapped.