Omake: Let it Go!
We're doing theme song Omakes! This is Sean's.
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The snow glows white on the mountain tonight,
not a footprint to be seen.
A kingdom of isolation and it looks like I'm the queen.
The wind is howling like this swirling storm inside.
Airships are disturbingly stable. So stable that pilots can forget that they are actually flying an aircraft. Even in massive storms like the ones outside couldn't deter them. Though the world was completely whited out and icing over, the airship was dutifully moving forward. In wind that cut to the bone, the zeppelin was a floating mountain. It was too large for the gusts to affect it. The bridge itself was empty, the wheel turning by itself while the autopilot guided the ship along its predetermined route. The cavernous holds of the airship were equally empty. The only noise was the typical creaks and groans of any structure. Deep inside the gondola, where even sound didn't reach, was a vault. Inside were three people: the lead interrogator, a woman tied to a chair and the interrogator's sidekick.
The woman could be described as unequivocally terrifying. Not by her appearance; she was very pretty with legs meant to be worshipped. Usually at her feet. In a club, she would be terrifying to any man. But the power she wielded made her terrifying to any sentient being. Her black eyes, elfin ears and the fangs that she was showing off warned everyone of that. Technically, she was smiling but she didn't have a merry bone in her body.
"If you just talk, I can guarantee your safety," the lead interrogator said.
He wasn't scared of her. She was just another powerful sadist that he was forced to confront in his line of work. No, his fear was who she represented. She was an agent for the most powerful creature on the planet. A woman who could weave webs of intrigue so deep that they fooled the entire world and many of its intelligence agencies. The woman in front of them was the tip of a very ugly spear.
And she knew it. She kept showing off those fangs as she laughed at him. "Go easy on me? You couldn't even get me wet! I know your type. You think you are some paladin rescuing the world."
The kind of person who would offer her clemency was the type of person she could never respect. Mercy was for the weak after all. She was confident in a way only sociopaths could be. It came from a lack of common human decency and basic respect for human life. Things like that kept people from taking what they wanted. So to her, they were a weakness.
Her assessment wasn't wrong either. He was a nice person; chosen for his devotion to the best parts of humanity. Even his white clothes, camouflaged for the frigid northern climes, were glowing in the light. Combined with his blond hair and chiseled jawline, he looked like a poster child for the dashing hero. The mission required virtue, it was hoped that the Paladin would be able to fight off the corruption and mental games. If the mission required a patsy, he was self-sacrificing enough to do that too.
Couldn't keep it in, Heaven knows I tried.
Don't let them in, don't let them see.
Be the good girl you always have to be.
Conceal, don't feel, don't let them know.
Well, now they know!
Paladin glared at her. "Listen to me, I don't want to hurt you. But I will turn you over to him."
He pointed to the man sitting on the shipping crate. Caught off guard, he looked at both of them with his mouth half open. It was a stupid expression. His accomplice was sitting on a crate eating an apple and kicking the crate with his heels. When he wasn't taking a bite of the apple he was rolling it in his hand. He exuded nervousness from every pore of his body. Except for his face, which he tried to keep unsettling calm and jovial. He was nervous and hiding it poorly.
The woman didn't look impressed.
Paladin snapped at him, "Don't fucking do that!"
It was like watching a puppy being scolded. With the apple in his mouth, the man held up his hands defensively.
"God dammit! You bastard!" Paladin yelled in frustration.
Her grin widened even more. Their dysfunction just made her feel even more powerful.
"Listen to me," Paladin said and took a step forward. He leaned down to her level. "If you do not talk to me. I will have to hand you over to him."
The man scratched the back of his head and smiled uneasily. He looked like an even bigger moron than Paladin.
She spit in his face. "I'll take my chances! You boy scouts won't get anything out of me!"
He stood up and sighed. Wiping away the spit, he stared at the ground. True sorrow colored his face. In another life, the woman in front of him might have turned out differently. She might have been saved. No one deserved what would happen next. He walked towards the door.
"Do what you have to," he told the man.
The man eating the apple took his final bite and hopped off his crate. He let Paladin out and then closed the hatch.
The vault was specially designed and needed a special door. Layers of lead, silver, magical arrays and special alloys made the cell extremely thick. It was all to keep the woman from using her magic and teleporting away. Most importantly, it kept prying psychics out. The forces they were battling required such measures. When mortals tried to kill gods, they had to scurry like rats. He turned the wheel slowly; taking his time. He smiled at Paladin through the sole window. It magnified the sorrow within the Paladin.
"Well," he said before he turned.
"So they left you to watch me? Was that supposed to scare me so I gave up?" She interrupted him immediately.
The smirk was gone. He blinked and rubbed the back of his head as he turned. "We tried."
"I bet," she said with a smile. She squirmed in her chair and rubbed at her bindings.
His face was hidden from her as he walked over to the crate. A briefcase had been hidden behind his back. Inside was a syringe full of a clear liquid. If he held it up to the light and focused, he could see tiny dots. Tiny organisms and nanomachines were swimming in it. The best minds of technology and magic, old and new, working together for humanity's good.
He grabbed her neck forcefully. It was the first show of force she had experienced in captivity. It shocked her enough that she actually held still as he stuck the needle in her neck and pushed the concoction into her bloodstream. It was a practiced motion that spoke to expertise. He even kept pressure on her neck to keep her from bleeding. Enough to make it hard for her to breath.
"I'm just topping you off. I don't want you to get your enhancements back for a little while," he said.
Once the drugs started flowing through her, it was even harder to move. She felt so slow, so weak, so out of it. Her intelligence was harder to access, her bindings were no longer as flexible, it was harder to predict his movements.
"How much did you put in me?" she asked. Her speech was slurred. The corner of her mouth lagged.
"Oh, a lot. I want to have my fun," he said. "That's why it left your healing factor alone."
He removed the gauze from her neck and examined the slight scarification of her tissue where the syringe went in. There was a moment where he just looked down at her. It was getting harder for her to keep her head up. An illusion of caring took over his face. Her breathing was getting harder; her body wasn't nearly as efficient. He gently rubbed her ears and smiled down at her. It felt deceptively nice.
His other hand moved down her neck and into her shirt. He caught her nipple between his pointer and middle finger and pinched. She struggled in disgust. With a roll of his wrist, he exposed her breast to the air of the cell.
"Starting to get wet?" he asked with a grin.
Let it go, let it go!
Can't hold it back any more.
Let it go, let it go!
Turn away and slam the door.
I don't care what they're going to say.
Let the storm rage on.
The cold never bothered me anyway.
She didn't answer. Fear was taking hold of her. He wasn't as weak as she had thought. Maybe Paladin was actually telling the truth. He walked back over to the crate and began pulling out tools. Screwdrivers, hammers, nails, the glint of a large combat knife caught her eyes. He was holding it up to the light and examining it.
He spun around and grinned.
"It takes twenty-four hours after an operative is captured to move assets to safety and harden an intelligence network against attack. Twenty-four hours." He really stressed it. "So don't ruin my fun in these next twenty-four hours. Okay?"
Primal fear was in her eyes when he walked towards her.
He stabbed the knife through her cheek. She felt the tissue holding her teeth in rip. The coppery taste flooded her mouth while the fragments bounced around. She tried to scream but that only multiplied the pain. The tip of the blade was sticking out of the other side of her mouth. He kept his hand around the handle and used it to yank her head back and forth. With a smile on his face, he mimicked the motions of her head. She went along, desperate for her skin to stop ripping. Her salty tears magnified the pain and made her wounds burn.
He licked his lips and held his palm above her head. With a deep breath, he rested his palm on her head. He took another stabilizing breath and flexed his fingers on the blade. One of his nails brushed the open wound and sucked another cry out of her.
"Ready?" he asked. It was like he was about to pull out her baby teeth. "The power of Christ co-"
She cried.
He smacked her forehead and ripped the blade forward. Blood splattered his shirt. The chair rocked off the ground. A piece of her fangs bounced off the metal grates of the floor. Her head lurched forward. Torrents of blood fell out of her mouth and pooled on her lap. A glasgow grin had been ripped out of her face.
"Can you believe," he asked. "That I actually used to feel bad about this?"
His laughter would haunt for the rest of her life. What was left of it.
It's funny how some distance,
makes everything seem small.
And the fears that once controlled me, can't get to me at all
It's time to see what I can do,
to test the limits and break through.
No right, no wrong, no rules for me.
I'm free!
He stepped out into the hallway and latched his belt. The smell of blood and sweat escaped the room. He carefully shut the latch. Paladin was leaning against the wall. The man didn't look at him. He was still staring through the window at the bloodied woman huddled on the floor.
"You are disgusting sub-human trash," Paladin said.
The man finally looked at him. He pulled his shirt over his head and shimmied into it. "I'm disgusting?"
Paladin sneered.
The Sadist fluffed his shirt. He dug in his pocket for a pack of cigarettes and lit up. They stood in silence while he took a long drag of it. Pleasure washed over him. The smell helped mask the blood.
"You know what's really disgusting?" Sadist asked. "I used to agree with you."
He exhaled and Paladin stared him in the eyes.
"But then I realized. Who gives a fuck? We have magic machines that will erase everything I just did. The scars both physical and mental." He laughed but his smile was exaggerated and forced. "And you know what's really great?"
He stopped and waited for Paladin to answer. He wouldn't get the pleasure; Paladin stayed silent. It was even more amusing. He leaned in closer to Paladin's face.
"I don't have to be afraid anymore. By the end of the day." He paused for effect and leaned in even closer to whisper to him. "She'll love me. Any fears about hurting her will be gone. Poof. They're just so small and inconsequential. If you did to your girls, what I just did to her? They would still love you. Hahahaha."
The smell of him made Paladin's throat sting. But he didn't recoil from him. It would have given the man more satisfaction than he deserved.
He got even closer. "There is just one difference between you and me."
Paladin stayed silent.
"And it's that you're still lying to yourself." Sadist backed away. "Just a little distance and you'll see, none of that "love" they feel is real."
Paladin searched his eyes for long time. "I want you off my ship as soon as you have that information. I don't care if it's still snowing."
Sadist laughed, "the cold never bothered me anyway! Hahaha!"
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Author's Note
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A long time ago, someone asked me to do an omake. I have no idea what an omake is. Well, I know what one is. I just don't know how to create one. Apparently, there is some level of humor involved. Sketch comedy is hard for me to write. I'm more of a sarcasm kind of guy. I was stuck trying to find something to do. Everyone liked the Marquis de Sade shit, so voila.
So much of pokegirl literature is filled with paladins who want to save damsels in distress. Which is part of the reason I don't think the "rape women into sanity" thing is as creepy as that definition would suggest. But, what if an honest to god sadist got to play in this little sexual sandbox?
Could he just let it go? Would the fears that once controlled him still get to him at all? Would he see what he could do? Test his limits and break through? Would it be right or wrong? What would the rules be? Would he be free? Would that be a good thing?
Did you laugh? I did.