"So Beautiful, They Make You Kill" Living Dead Girl. Rob Zombie
Thanks for the reviews, and in response to that question, I will be answering it in this chapter. Enjoy, -N.
He couldn't remember the last time he had ever suffered so greatly. Felt something beyond annoyance or disappointment. Sure, when his child was killed by the people who had saved his life, he had felt something. When his training had him react before he thought, and he saw the person he loved most lying in a pool of their own blood, he did feel. But, in his sixty some odd years of life, this truly was pain.
He knew that his legs were gone, the grunts and tearing sounds he heard echoing from below his waist proved that. He could only guess at what it had torn from his chest. It did make him scream though when he felt what he was sure was its teeth on what he thought were his intestines; that really was something he had never experienced before. He knew he didn't have much time left. His mind was becoming sluggish and he had to warn people of what was now loose on the world. True, he was evil incarnate. He was a mercenary, a killer, a terrorist, and most recently was the champion to a true entity of evil, but that didn't mean that he didn't want people to have a fighting chance.
By feel, he was able to find the remote on his wrist and call one of his few remaining drones to his side. Again, it was luck when he heard the faint beep of the recorder from the machine start. When he tried to speak, he realized then that it hadn't just pried his jaw open, it had dislocated it. Again, the machine was aware of what needed to be done and rectified the situation. He relished the sensation, the jarring movement shaking him from his fog, and prayed that it had left enough of his tongue for him to be understood. He only gave orders, no gloating, no explaining, and no pity. He just said what needed to be said, and finishing, heard the faint ding signaling that the recording had been captured. Now though, this dying declaration had to be sent to them, and he knew who would, no, who must get it.
It wouldn't go to him; he knew the boy was too far gone to believe anything except what he wanted to. It would go to the other. True, he wouldn't have any reason to believe what he had to say, but the man would listen, and hopefully take action; so long as his emotions didn't get in the way. His decision made, he sent the drone to the main console. The machine would move quickly and send it properly, not along their main audio channel, but simply as an email, something that could be viewed in private. It would destroy the building then, and set fire to the rubble. "So, this is how it ends?" He heard the crashes and smelled the smoke. As the heat neared him, he stopped fighting the inevitable and drifted off. After all the evil he had spread, Slade Wilson, Deathstroke, was finally dead.
The sound of knocking brought him awake. Rick wasn't sure of the time, but he did know that his body wasn't responding to him. He sat up, and his chest burned with pain, raising an arm to the bruises, he felt the twang of pain in his shoulder, and didn't even have to check to know that his knee was swollen stiff. He fell back down, and raising a hand, saw the dark bruises on his fingers, and felt the scab on his face, cringing as it tore open. Maybe I should have taken her offer.
He heard her moan, and turning his head saw the angel. She looked perfect, something he had always dreamed of seeing. Raven, his Goddess, asleep by his side, her scent filling the room, it was perfect, except for his blood covering that perfect form. When he started to move, those eyes snapped open, and again she smiled. He knew then that he would do anything to keep her safe, do anything she asked of him, after all, she was his, and anything she wanted wouldn't be too much. "Morning," he grimaced at the pain of speaking. He knew then the damage wasn't just surface. He was sure it wasn't permanent, but he had enough injuries of this kind to know it would be a while before he didn't speak with a growl.
"How are you feeling?" She had risen and closed the shades. For once, he was grateful to be out of the light. In darkness, he could hide the pain, his flaws. She wouldn't see how weak he was. The knocking started again, and he watched her fade into the shadows, becoming something darker. They wouldn't see her, but he knew where she was, it was almost comforting.
"It's open," the door swung forward and he could see the others standing there, looking concerned.
"Rick, time to get up," she looked like she hadn't slept all night. He felt pity for her, that she would worry for him, but they all knew he had taken worse and lived, why would that change now?
"I would," again he tried to rise and failed. "Spirit's will is there, but the rest of me…" Victor was by his side instantly, and as if he were a child, carried him to the wheelchair they had brought with them. "Thank you."
"No prob man," he noticed then that they were heading to the main room, not the med wing.
"Vic, something I should know?"
"Cops are here, they said something happened yesterday, wanted to talk to you about it." He nodded, and soon they were there. He recognized the chief easily enough. The man had worked with Gordon in Gotham for almost ten years before getting the job in Jump. Something was wrong though, since he had arrived, Rick had always seen him with a smile on his face, now though, it was a thin line.
"Tyler, is something wrong?" Again, he scanned the room, and looked pointedly at the others, then back at him.
"Can we talk alone?" He gave him a nod and the others filed out. When they were gone, Tyler was on his knees in front of him, like he was trying to see through his mask. "Franklin Jones died yesterday," he resisted the urge to grin and let the man continue. "The orderlies could hear him crying in the isolation cell, and he kept rambling that he was sorry. Then it was quiet except for the sound of, in their words, 'wet ripping'. When they opened the door, they found that he had opened his wrists. With his teeth."
He was shocked to say the least, but still, the man had deserved to suffer. The guy could have called for a cab, or simply slept it off in his office, but no, he had tried to drive home and killed her in the process. He was glad the man had died and hoped that he burned for it. In his mind, Rick felt that the guy had chickened out instead of taking his punishment like a man. "Why are you telling me this?"
"I thought you should know," he could see a shadow moving along the wall where none should have been. In his mind, he could feel her pleasure at the man's words mingling with his own. Raven, go back to our room, I'll fill you in on the details there.
When he watched the shadow fade, he found Tyler's eyes again on his face. "I'm sorry Chief, you were saying."
"They said that the pain had to be excruciating, and that he suffered greatly. I just thought you should know. I saw how you were that night kid. I could tell that she meant more to you than the others knew, didn't she?" He nodded. "You're probably wondering why I'm telling you this?" he dropped his voice to a whisper. "It's so you can start to heal. If she meant as much to you that mine does, than it probably feels good to know that the bastard suffered before he finally died, doesn't it?" Again, he nodded, and Tyler raised his voice. "Like I said, I just thought you should know," he felt his eyes on him again, this time, his wounds. "Get some rest kid, you look like hell."
"You guys can come in now."
When Tyler had left, he knew that the others were pacing the door. They practically ran in, and he let them hammer his with questions. He filled them in then, but left out the gory details. All that mattered to him was that Raven was alive and her killer, Franklin Jones, was dead. Finishing, he saw their faces. Kori and Gar, they had paled, but nodded and drifted over to the couch, most likely to wallow in each other's grief. Vic though, his face was blank, but Rick knew he was pleased. After all, Raven was like the little sister he always wanted, but never had.
"Okay, enough of this shit," he grabbed the handles on the chair and turned him out of the room. This time he knew they were on their way to the medical wing. "Let's get you patched up." When the needle slid into his skin, he groaned as he felt the drugs pour into his veins. Again, he was lifted like a child onto the table and didn't protest. "You've got a lot of fluid around your knee. Hold still, I need to drain it," he winced when the tourniquet wrapped around his leg, and at the sharp sting, but soon, the throbbing burn faded to a dull ache.
He winced at the pain in his hips when the lead apron touched his skin. But knew that he was grateful, he was still holding out some small hope for children. Eight dull whines later, he was eased into a sitting position. "Five broken ribs, a busted clavicle, and it looks like you bruised your larynx," he heard the mutter, and didn't resist the arm sling, he welcomed it. "Rick, you've got three choices for your ribs. One, I can just leave it and you can take it easy, but we both know that will never happen. Two, I can force you into a compression vest that will restrict your chest movements. Or three, my personal favorite, I wrap you in plaster and you can't do squat until you're healed. Your choice."
"Two," Vic already had the garment in his hand and was forcing it over his head. He forced down his scream when the fabric started to squeeze his chest, and tried to breathe normally. "Thanks."
"Dude, no problem. But I want you to know I heard everything." He tapped the side of his head. "Half-machine, remember? But I really hope you aren't glad a man took his own life. Don't cross that line okay?"
They rarely disagreed on certain topics, and this would always be one of them. The only thing that would have made the news better was if he could have seen it. His eyes fell to the line and the pink fluid pouring out. "How much longer is this going to take? I'm really tired."
"A few more minutes, but I may need to drain it again." Rick stayed quiet, and so did he. Victor noticed the scratches and bite marks on his chest and back. He also saw the blood around his lips. Those weren't parting gifts from Slade, he knew that much, but he wouldn't push it. Rick would tell them who was in his bed last night when he was ready.
She was waiting when he was wheeled back into the room. The others left him alone, and he was tempted to just sleep, but he said they would talk, so… "What do you want to know?"
"Did he suffer?" If the room wasn't in darkness, Rick would have seen the anticipation in her eyes, but only nodded and he saw the brief flash of red. Before bringing her back, it would have bothered him. But Trigon was dead now, if this was how she showed emotion, he could get used to it. He felt the bed shift then, and smiled when he felt her lay gently on top of him. He expected to hurt, but it seemed like, last night, she was again taking his pain. She really does care.
Yes I do, his eyes widened, and he laughed. Just rest, I want you to heal and be well. I am expecting many repeat performances like last night. He nodded, and wrapped his uninjured arm around her, determined to never let her go.
Gar was many things, and he felt that they were all good. Since they had all grown, he had matured and he knew the others were grateful for it. In fact, they had even started to trust him more. His biggest reward though, was free reign in Vic's room. The guy always had the fastest computers, and the best games, so it wasn't odd that he would kill a few hours in there. When he found the computer, he was surprised that Vic was still logged in. Normally, the guy either locked the computer screen or logged off.
He didn't want to look, but the old him was egging him on. Come on man, one little peek won't hurt anything. He tried to fight the urge, but it was pointless. He gave the room a quick scan, and seeing no one, ran to the pc. All that was open was his inbox, and it was just a single email. He could see the message clearly enough, 'urgent', and that only egged him on further. "He's going to kill me." He wasn't sure what to expect, but started to panic when the screen went black. It was when he saw the man's symbol, a chrome 'S' over black and heard the voice that he recognized the sender. "Slade," he didn't see anything on the screen, it was blank. The audio was faint; barely a hiss, but he could just hear the hoarse whisper of their most hated enemy over the speakers.
"She's dead, not the girl…Must kill it…Have to fight, have to kill. Not the girl, only the Demon. Use the Fallen, can't trust Richard…He called it back, been corrupted. Have to fight…Have to win," the screen flashed, and he saw him. His face covered in blood, two empty, bloody sockets, and more crimson pouring out of his broken mouth. He retched onto the floor, but still, he could hear the croak. "Raven's back."
Even though she was asleep, Raven was aware of what had transpired. She knew everything that was happening in the tower. It was her home, and her pet's, but now the secret was out; the weak Raven had died on that street all those days ago, and she was banished back to Hell. Richard, Nightwing, her lover, had brought her back with her father's death, and now she, the demon, would truly live for them both. She would not lose him, and would not die again.
She could hear the dead man's voice as if she had been there. Someone now knew the truth, and she had to protect herself. Moving quickly, she pressed her hands to Rick's chest and started to work. She had wanted to heal him gradually, teasing him with light touches and soft kisses until he was strong again, until she had him desperate for her touch and presence. But now, she had to be ready. He woke as the burn was faded with cool relief and she took his face in her hands. "Richard," she saw his eyes harden and knew he was paying attention. She only called him by his name when it was important. "I'm afraid. I'm worried that the others, when they see me, that they'll be afraid, that they'll try to hurt me. Maybe even try to kill me."
"Then we won't tell them," she felt his hands in her hair, and gave him a weak smile, something that she often did before the accident. "You'll be my secret that I'll never show the others."
"But what if they find out?"
"I would never tell them, and I won't let that happen," she smiled at him when she saw his gaze harden. She had seen her father's eyes glow like that while she was waiting in the pit, it meant only one thing. He would kill for her that was all she needed to know. But it would be so much more comforting to hear him say it.
"How, how do I know that? What if they try to kill me? I don't know how strong I am. I don't know if I can protect myself."
"I'll keep you safe."
"No matter what."
"No matter what," she smiled at his words. She would be safe, and he was hers. Nothing would happen to either of them. After all, he was her first, and nothing would happen to her first love.
"It was a sick joke, it has to be." He was pacing his room, looking from the photos on his walls to his door, then up to the ceiling, visualizing Nightwing in a drug-induced sleep. "Since when did Slade ever tell the truth?" But when did he ever lie? True, the guy was a sociopathic genius, he only sought to gain, but he never really did lie. He just never told the whole truth. The video seemed real, they had all seen death, and it looked like he was barely alive when it was sent. He knew that Rick was desperate to get her back, but he knew that his friend would never do anything so stupid. "Would he?"
The guy had gone to hell to get her back, and that was insane. But still, it was Raven, sure, she had her moments, but she was harmless, right. Oh yeah, completely peaceful. He never really forgot the times that she lost it, the way her father would take over her and try to destroy them. Hell, he had even been inside her mind, and that told him enough, the girl had a dark side to her.
"I gotta go talk to him." That was it. He was gonna go talk to him. Even if it meant that all the guy could do was nod because of the drugs, it would be enough. He just needed him to say something, tell him that he wouldn't put them in harm, that he would let her rest in peace. That all he had done was grieve and place flowers on her grave, maybe talked to her a little. That he didn't so something they would all regret.
He wasn't sure why she was acting this way. He just remembered lying in a drug haze, and feeling her power hit him like a tidal wave. He was sure that if hadn't been on the bed, he would have been thrown out the window. But what bothered him more was what she had said. "Would they really hurt you?" She was asleep in his arms, and he felt better than he had in years. Like he was stronger, faster. He knew that she always held back during her healings, that she was worried what might happen if she gave it all she got. Raising his arm, he realized she may have had a point.
He was always strong, but the muscle seemed more pronounced, like it was going to rip out of his skin if he flexed too hard. Even in the dim light, he could see that she had taken his scars. He was sure that if he checked himself over, he would be flawless. She had remade him, and he was grateful. "Stop moving around," he laughed when she clutched him, and he stilled. He was willing to give her what she wanted, it was worth it.
"Rick, I need to talk to you about Rav-," He felt her stiffen while he was staring at Gar. He had frozen when he saw her. And he saw something he couldn't understand in his eyes.
"Gar, get out." He didn't move and the look just kept growing. She rolled off of him, and he felt her move behind him. He wasn't sure why, but he rose and stood between Gar and the bed. The way he was looking at her didn't seem right. "Gar," his eyes finally found his. "I gave you an order, get out."
"Slade is dead," he laughed then and watched Gar freeze. It didn't bother him. His life finally seemed complete. The man he had despised for years was finally dead, and he got the girl. Well Bruce, I finally did something you never could do, I got the girl.
"Good. I'm glad he's dead and I hope he burns in Hell. Now, I told you to get out," he turned back to the bed, shielding her from view. She was his; no one else would look upon her.
"There is something else. He said that she isn't Raven." His shoulder tensed, but he didn't speak. "He said that she is dead, and that thing is only a monster." He looked to her, and didn't miss the anger on her face. It matched his own. "Slade said we had to kill her."
He spun then, and let his anger fuel him when he slammed Gar into the drywall, causing it to crumble. "And since when did we ever do what Slade says." He didn't panic when the man disappeared and the python wrapped itself around his arms. It was easy enough to pry himself loose, and took its head in his hands. This time, when he threw him, it went through the wall, and he followed, only stopping to grab his belt. It didn't bother him when the others panicked seeing Gar crash to the floor; all that mattered was what he had said. "You always wanted her," when the bear came at him, he grabbed its paw and twisted, smiling when he felt the joint pop free. "Admit it," he only shook his head when a crippled wolf tried to attack. "You had your chance, and now that I have her, you feel she can't have anyone." When it was close enough, he drew his staff and slammed its muzzle. He saw Gar now, nursing a broken jaw and a dislocated shoulder. "She is mine now, deal with it."
He tried to rush him, and slammed his staff over his head. He was straddling his back when he heard the garbled speech. "You gotta stop her, she's evil." He didn't hesitate to take his head in his hands.
"I'm giving you one chance, stand down and leave her alone." He was pleading with his friend now. Gar was like the little brother he never had. This was the same person who he had laughed with, pranked with, and loved. Now though, he was a threat to the person he cared about most. "Please Garfield," he didn't want to use his full name, but hoped that that would get through to him. That his name would shake him out of his stupor and show him that what he was doing was wrong. Slade was the evil one, not his Raven.
He could feel his body shutter when he started to shift. "I'm sorry," the crack seemed to be the loudest sound in the room. Whether it was because he snapped his friend's neck, or his heart was breaking, he wasn't sure. He could feel the others' eyes on him, but he didn't care. He had just killed his friend, and he hated himself.
Then she was there. He could smell her scent, and felt those cool hands on his back. "You had to Richard," it didn't matter that he knew she was right. Gar was dead, and by his hands. "Thank you." He could feel her in his mind, soothing him, and taking the guilt. He rose and held her.
"I told you," he was almost crushing her, but he didn't care. She was too important now, he couldn't lose her. "I'll never let anything happen to her." He heard the faint sound of machinery powering up, and released her. Sure enough, he turned and saw the cannon pointed towards him, and a glowing hand at her. Taking a step, he moved so she was directly behind him, and he could feel the rage pouring off her. "I won't let anything happen to her." He looked at them, and saw anger and disgust on Vic's face, while all he saw in Kori was sadness and hatred. "He was going to kill her, and I had no choice. I lost her once, and I won't lose her again."
"Rick, get away from it. We both know that that thing behind you is not her. You didn't see her. When you killed him, it was watching, almost enjoying it. That thing is Not Raven." He couldn't believe what Vic was saying. This was Raven, his adopted little sister, not a monster.
"What about you Kori?"
He expected to see tears fall, but she seemed to turn to stone. "Victor is right friend, that is not Raven; and you just killed your friend. Please step away, it must be destroyed."
With a sigh, he raised his staff with one hand, and an explosive in the other. "I see, you believe what a jealous fool says. Fine," he took a stance and drew his arm back to throw. "Who's next?"
Another cliffhanger, I know, but I couldn't help myself. One more chapter to go, I hope you all enjoyed this. Take it easy, -N.