after another she looks at the scroll. Standing, quill in one hand, she
steps closer to the puppet in the other chair, refusing to look at him. In
one smooth motion she stabs the quill into her hand, not bothering with a
simple prick of the finger. Then raises the quill to hover just above the
surface of the paper, not certain of her answer, but knowing she has no
other choice. Keep her friends safe by saving Kevin from them or�She
couldn�t bring herself to contemplate that option. Holding her breath she
scrawls her name on the scroll, right next to Kevin�s, then moves backward
not wanting to be that close.
�Why��she begins, whispered but still clear. �Why even give me the choice?�
She lifts her eyes to meet his. �What could I have that you would want?
I don�t have anything�I wont even have my friends when they find out.� She
takes a moment to inhale not realizing she is out of breath. �Why is it so
much fun to make me suffer?� Tears still fall from her eyes despite her
efforts to stop them. She�s not even sure she wants to know the answers nor
does she know if Kevin will answer them.
"Century, you are the personification of my masochism. After killing Ligea, and with my daughter having a higher purpose, you are the only thing left for me to torture myself with. The only weakness I have that I could exploit. But I don't think you understand, perhaps a little more insight?" ~The Puppet stands and places his hands on the desk looking to her, his flesh turning more and more red as if he's slowly cooking from the inside out. Then he speaks again, this time his voice rotates between a few other voices that seem familiar to her somewhat. But from where?~
"Century, I have had many secrets over the years. ~voice change~ But one of my darkest ones was you. ~voice changes again~ I learned to deceive, even supernatural senses, just to be with you again." ~and then it hits her, like a ton of bricks, he was using the voices of those occasional encounters Century had after leaving Woodbury. That smile sweeps the guy's features again. And his voice returns to normal~
"Now perhaps you see. None are exempt from suffering, even me. Those who can cope learn to relish the sensation. But for now, my own suffering can be set aside for the small price of sparing you and your friends theirs. Now I can devote more of myself into my destiny. But the only way I could get this freedom, was to make sure I would suffer for it all later. I can not do that, if I'm dead." The therapist's flesh begins to bloat and sag, the occasional piece falling off.~
" Come on Century, how about one more kiss for old times sake?" ~The sick bastard was making a joke because as he leans forward he's barely part of the way to her when the body falls limp hitting the desk like a water balloon. His flesh ruptures and all the soft tissue of his body pours forth making a horrible mess of things. But as the corpse hits, the magical protections on the room end and anyone can now hear and or see inside the office. But most importantly, it means she's free to leave.~