A Scripta

He checked himself in the mirror - again - as he walked through the warehouse. His boots made harsh clomping sounds as the metal horseshoes he had attached to them hit the concrete smartly. He tipped his violet-tinged glasses down, looking at his eyes. The contacts reflected his sapphire eyes perfectly. He checked his dark hair, tight shirt and pants. Everything was perfect.

"Is she ready?" He turned to the grey clad young man with the flat mohawk.

"Yes, sir."

"Did she give you any trouble?"

"Nothing we couldn't handle."

The young man opened the door for the other. He stepped inside a room, facing a woman with long hair that, inside, a woman sat alone on a stone bench, her ankles chained to it. Two men stood at the corner of the room. The man smiled and walked over to her.

"Duncan, what's going on?"

He blinked, caught himself because he realized he looked at her confusedly. Fool! Already failed because she used a different name than you expected. Already she is on the offensive.

"My name is Nate," he said, smiling again, though the warmth didn't reach his eyes. He joined her on the cold stone slab. He took her chin in his hand and turned her head. She resisted. He pulled her harder. She resisted further. He was stronger, and he would easily have twisted her neck around.

The smile became feral and the eyes turned steely as he leaned in and kissed her forcefully. He kept his eyes open as he kissed her, smiling as she winced in pain as he kept holding head still, deepening and forcing the kiss harder. He pulled back and threw her head back, so she almost fell backwards.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and his arm. "You'll need to practice."

She glared at him, then exploded in fire. His reflexes were faster, so he moved back and only was slightly scorched. He smiled. "Excellent. I've always wanted to do a piece in fire. But first, I must make you supple."

He turned to the men. "Gentlemen? Let us begin."

Six men appeared out of nowhere. He stood in the doorway and began to fully detail a systematic beating. First, clothes were torn off piece by piece, either by a knife, scissors, or brute force. He would make a comment. A man would reply to it. They would all laugh. This continued on, until finally the punches came steadily after barked commands. Sometimes she fought back, with fire, and once hit one man back, glancing his blow off.

The man launched himself off from the doorway with a growl, and looked at what the glancing blow did. Not so bad that the spreading bruise couldn't handle, but still off. He stood, debating the placement of that bruise in his mind.

She moaned, reached for him. He roughly pulled her up, hugged her nude body to his. "Hmmm," he crooned. "You don't smell dirty enough. Smell is very important, it brings a certain panache to the piece." He kissed her roughly again, then slapped her hard.

He tilted his head to see the red welt forming. "Oh! I like that!" Grinning, he slapped her hard in the exact same place again. "Oh, oh yes."

He rose. "Bring her to the room."

Some men grabbed her and dragged her down the hall. They went into the room first. When it was secure and presentable, someone came out and nodded his head. There was a huge room, about 12x12 that looked like a stadium. The man walked in, stripping as he went. There was applause throughout the room as he discarded piece after piece of clothing.

He stood before the assembled crowd his arms raised in jubilation. "I am perfection!" he cried, and the audience of men and women applauded. "I am true beauty." He turned to Ariel, now bruised. "This imperfect creature, I will attempt to make true beauty." He stared at her with undisguised contempt. "To think that Masonry's clone accepted you as beautiful. He must be blind and stupid."

The audience laughed. Then he began, again, a fully orchestrated beating - and now cutting - session. She tried to fight, but her flames became weaker and weaker. He smiled, leaned forward and pressed his naked body against hers, "I can do it better than him, make you ache for me all the time. Make you want me."

His voice didn't change. She looked at him, her eyes full of tears. "No."

He slapped her, the tears flying out of her eyes. "I think a black eye is due. In a couple of minutes..."

He kissed her. She tried to keep her mouth closed, but he pinched her, and she gasped. He forced his kiss on her again. He manipulated bruises and made new ones, and then he sat back to look at his handiwork.

A couple of things were wrong. As he wondered whether he could repair them, someone poked his head in and said "Mr. Masonry, they're getting closer."

He glared at the man. The man retreated quickly, a look of absolute fear crossing his face. He glared at her. "Bah, this is useless. Substandard material. I can't fix this ugly mess." He slapped her. "Get rid of it. Do what you want with it. Just get it out of my sight. Oh, wait--"

He grabbed the body, turned her head and slapped her forehead. Ariel's head lolled sideways. "Hmmm, my sweet... Give a message to your brave, brave 'Duncan': 'Stop searching. This is your warning.'"

As they dragged the body away, he said, "Maybe the next one he gets will be a little more workable." He chuckled, looked up at the audience and said, "And he will always have a 'next one'."

(Character of Ariel was used with permission, thanks! :) )