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 Posted: Sun Sep 19, 2010 5:18 pm
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dame stood in awe of the church, never having been inside something quite so large or elaborate. Feeling very small, she quietly and reverently followed Psyzapp around, bowing her head slightly at the priest. She was kinda glad to get out of there when it was time. sweatdrop It was so big! She felt she was gonna break something every time she turned around. sweatdrop Plus... stressed Some of the altar boys were giving her weird looks. stare
eek Victor was HUGE...well, he wasn't actually as tall as Karrie by any means but DAMN he had PRESENCE. He looked like Lurch and dame whispered as much in Psy's ear.
As Psy gave her the tour, dame's face was in permanent awe, eek sweatdrop "Psy, this place is bigger than the church! stressed " After dame and Psy enjoyed their lunch, dame decided to forego the swim and instead walk around in the gardens, thinking and enjoying the peaceful solitude.
Once Psy has finished her phone calls, she finds dame sitting on a bench underneath the shade of a gorgeous old oak. "It's beautiful, Psyzapp. You have most certainly out done yourself," she smiles at her briefly before a shadow moves across her face, "Psy, I need to speak with you about something."
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Posted: Sun Sep 19, 2010 5:34 pm
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She angles her body towards Psyzapp, "Well Psy...I...I haven't been feeling myself in quite some time..." dame clutches at her hands in her lap, staring down at them, "And...well," she is quiet for a few moments. "I've decided to do something about it. I...I have thought about this for awhile and decided it is for the best. I can get the help I need so I won't feel so... sad lost anymore." dame looks up at Psy with tears forming in her eyes, "I will miss you guys an awful lot," she bites her lip, "but, within the next two weeks, I will be going away for a while."
dame puts up her hand, "Don't worry, I will be going to speak with my lawyer and the firm and seeking counsel with them first. I don't think they will have a problem with it but just to make sure, I want nothing to break any stipulations or violate any restrictions." She looks out at the gardens, staring for a few minutes, "I'm taking medical leave from security, without pay, of course, and well, B.A.R.C. will take care of itself. All that's left is for me to talk to my boss at The Colourful Kitten." She straightens herself on the bench and stares straight ahead, waiting and mulling things over for the nteenth time.
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Posted: Sun Sep 19, 2010 6:26 pm
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Posted: Sun Sep 19, 2010 6:37 pm
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Posted: Sun Sep 19, 2010 6:49 pm
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Posted: Sun Sep 19, 2010 6:57 pm
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Posted: Sun Sep 19, 2010 7:00 pm
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Posted: Wed Sep 22, 2010 5:39 pm
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After weeks of torture, very unique torture, we find L back in her mirrored cell, hands and feet bound together, short white T-shirt that doubled as a gown on her frame, strawberry blonde hair disheveled and tangled. She is squatting, knees together rocking back and forth on her heels. The soles of her feet, palms of her hands and knees have since calloused and cracked.
She rocks back and forth, balanced on her knees, laughing and muttering to herself grey eyes crazed and senseless. Her muscle tone is gone and ribs are showing, bones poking and prodding from where she has refused to eat. If you get close enough or you listen good enough you’ll catch her mutterings…
L L L L L L L L L L L L L L L L L L L L …hehheh…L L L L L L L L L L L L L L L L L L …hehheh…L L L L At times her muttering would change and she’d start ticking off on her fingers and moving her hands erratically. Services are rendered. Business is made. Contracts are filled. Pockets are full. Services are rendered. Business is made. Contracts are filled. Pockets are full. And then it would change back , L L L L L L L L L L L L L L L L L L L L … -laughter- L L L L L L… Back and forth, muttering and rocking and chuckling day and night. She did not sleep unless they forced her too through different means. She had long since told herself she would go insane before giving up some things. She kept that promise to herself, retreated far back into her twisted mind.
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Posted: Thu Sep 23, 2010 7:03 pm
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((For the record, and because I said I would, dame gave me permission to get all "wordy". Just sayin'. Oh, and buckle up. cool ))
The evening in the city was cooling, and the lights of the night were beginning to blink on one by one. In one neighborhood, all is calm and quiet, not unlike any other evening. But as the last slivers of the sun disappear below the horizon, the quiet night air is slowly pushed aside and finally shattered by the crescendo of a wordless yell, growing rapidly closer.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!
What appears to be a human form falls suddenly from the freshly darkened sky. It clips the roof a high rise, and spirals wildly away from it, limbs flailing in all directions from the intense force. As the shadowy form continues to spiral in its descent it suddenly slams into the wall of the next building over, bringing both fall and spin to a momentary halt. The moment seems to drag on, until finally the form slowly drops away from the wall, and plummets the rest of the way to the ground in silence.
*WHUMP*
There, unmoving in the dark alleyway, lies an adult male. On his back, limbs twisted askew, and completely bereft of clothing. The silence stretches, but is at last broken again.
“Ow. Ow ow ow ow OW. Oh ouchies. Ow owowowowowowow.”
With a groan the man slowly sits up, one hand gingerly coming to his forehead.
“Oh, how really do not like that. A very not wanted sensation really.”
Suddenly the man seems startled by his speech. Pulling his hand away he stares at it, as if seeing it for the first time. Bringing his other hand up beside the first, the man looks at them both intently for a moment, then suddenly starts wiggling all of his fingers, much to his amusement.
“Ha! Would you look at that. Wait, wait.”
His hands then go to his face, feeling his mouth, nose, eyes, and ears. Grabbing a long strand of his shaggy black hair he pulls it out straight, just enough to see it.
“Yes, yes. Well then, human it would seem.”
Leaping to his feet, the man begins stretching his legs, then pauses. Looking down at his form for a moment, then back up again with a curious look on his face.
“Human male, unless I miss my guess.”
Lifting a hand to his nose, he sniffs a few times.
“Fully matured. So an adult then.”
A vehicle passing by outside the alley attracts his attention, his shaggy hair rustling about as his head jerks back and forth, looking up and down the alley.
“But where? And when?”
Strolling to the head of the alley way, the man looks around the street lamps and neon lights that adorn the neighborhood. He looks up at the stars just beginning to peek out, and after a moment, nods his head.
“Nice, very nice. Probably, oh, half a million units of galactic center. Post-industrial society. Dash of early awakenings I would venture to guess.”
The man scratches at an ear as he turns to look down the street, only to find himself face to face with a trio of young adults. He quickly surmises them to be human females, and in a state of what was probably shock, though the reason was escaping even him.
“Um, hi.”
Then he noticed that their gazes were more downward facing. He too glanced down, then back at the women. Down again, and back up. Finally, it donned on him.
“Oh. Ah, I uh, see. I’m guessing that I’m not exactly up to code on the whole local modesty scale am I? Perhaps one of you could…”
As he took a step forward, the three girls spun and ran away as fast they could, screaming at the top of their lungs about a naked crazy man on the loose. The man looked a little puzzled, and just slightly troubled.
“Well, not the greatest start to a day, but it’s a start I suppose. No, wait.”
The man looks up at the sky again, and quickly around the visible horizon.
“No Sun. So, not day. Night. Either way, it is a start I guess. But now to rectify my current conundrum. Local standards of modesty. I need some clothes.”
The man sets off quickly down the street, apologizing profusely and repeatedly to the people he passes. Cries of fight and astonishment, laughter, and even cat calls and bawdry compliments trailing in his wake.
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Posted: Thu Sep 23, 2010 8:17 pm
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((Nice, Firespark ~ Glad to see you again.))
((Retroposting to catch us up to current with Ivan & L))
Over several weeks, Ivan's men have kept L in her mirrored chamber, shooting tranquilizer darts from the ceiling to knock her out on occasionally so they can keep her alive with feeding tubes and tend to her wounds. When she awakes, she is always back in her mirrored room, images of her baby sister bouncing around her. As the days go by, she sees the images, doctored carefully with a trick of lights and computer enhancement, images of the little girl in which parts of the skull show though the image's head, or another part of the skeleton through another part of the little girl's body. The scene flashes to an image of the gravestone, then back to the image with no eyes, maggots crawling on it's skin. Ivan has ensured she is tortured by images. There is no sound except what she makes and no interaction with his staff when she is conscious.
After a few weeks of this treatment, more images are added:
Her baby sister Lorraine is playing on a rope swing hung over a rafter in an old barn with Dame. The little girl swings out on the rope, falls... She's falling and falling, flash to the child lying like a broken doll on the floor of the barn, then she's falling again. L runs, tries to catch her but can't get to her in time. A soft whisper pipes through the room, asking L where she is, why hasn't she come home yet, she promised to take a break from her work and come play with Lorraine. The images cycle over and over.
When she starts to crack they stop chaining her, continuing the flow of images to make her mind go. Since the room is mirrored, she has no idea where the door is and the glass is unbreakable. When she's broken and rocking herself, they knock her out again and tattoo her like Dame, borrowing images they found from dame's home videos. They dye her hair purple and insert green contacts. A brand is carefully crafted in iron, an exact replica of her signature L. The iron is heated and as she lies unconcious, she is branded on her back to the left of her spine, just above her butt. She's returned to the mirrored room to wake up, the images changed to a Swedish mental hospital, with voices softly whispering about how cracked she is, but dangerous to herself and others and must be kept for observation. Occasionally a soft child's voice pipes in, "Where are you? You're supposed to come home."
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Posted: Fri Sep 24, 2010 12:19 am
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((Good to be back Lil' B.))
A police cruiser pulls up in front of a bridal store, its front window smashed and scattered about the sidewalk. Their lights are off, and the driver turns the engine off as they come to a stop. Two police officers climb out of the vehicle, one with a handgun, the other with a taser, and both with flashlights. The older of the two thumbs on the radio mike at his shoulder.
“Dispatch, this is unit 54, responding to the 311 off restaurant row. Found a bridal store, possible 459 in progress.”
“Roger unit 54. You are authorized to proceed.”
The two officers cautiously creep into the store through the broken window, weapons and flashlights slowly sweeping across the displays of wedding gowns and white fabrics. There comes a noise from the back of the store, and both officers sweep their weapons in the general direction of the sound and make for the back of the store quickly and quietly. Arriving at the changing rooms, they hear rustling from inside one, and train their weapons on it.
“Sir, this is police. I need you to slowly come out, with your hands on your head. Do you understand?”
There is a pause and finally a muffled voice speaks up from inside the changing room, “Um, yes, I believe I understand.”
“Excellent sir, then please come out as I have instructed.”
“Yes well, I understood, but there’s this little issue with the hands and head bit really.”
“Sir, I need you come out here, slowly, right now. This is your final warning.”
“Well I don’t think it matters how many warnings you give really. Standing around talking isn’t helping with my real problem here.”
The older officer nods to the younger, and then towards the dressing room door. The young officer moves towards the door, and after giving a silent three count by nodding, yanks the door open and practically off its hinges. Inside is a man with shaggy black hair down to his shoulders, and much of it in his face. He is twisted strangely inside the dressing room, due to his left hand being caught and held somewhere inside the wedding gown that he has managed to get halfway on. His other arm is holding the majority of the bodice to one side to presumably keep it out of the way. The older officer sums up the looks on both his and his fellow officer’s faces.
“What. The. Hell.”
The man inside looks slightly surprised, and not the least bit bothered with the flashlights in his eyes.
“Oh, wonderful, guns. Always people with the guns. Wait a minute. Guns. And you said you were police. AH HA! Police. Law Enforcement. Gotcha. Good, yes. Well, um, officers, this really isn’t what it looks like.”
The man pauses for a moment, looking down at himself, then back at the officers.
“Ah, okay, unless you’re thinking that it looks like a man twisted up in a dress, at which point maybe it’s exactly what it looks like. But I can assure you though, that there is a very good reason behind all this.”
The man pauses again, looks down at the dress once more, and then back to the two officers who are still dumbstruck by the sight before them.
“Well, maybe not a very good reason, or perhaps any kind of good reason really. But there is A reason, and that much I know for sure. See, I recently found myself up the street, sans clothing, and saw what a disturbance that was making. So then I found this place and not being familiar with local fashion or custom, and of course being in the dark, managed to squeeze halfway into this infernal construction before realizing that, oh how would say, the holsters didn’t match the weapon. If you know what I mean. And so of course…”
“Sir, do you know where you are?”
“...so then I, what?”
“Do. You. Know. Where. You. Are.”
“Well of course I do. I’m here. With you.” The man turned to the younger officer, “Is he always this oblivious?”
The young officer turned to his superior, “Sir?”
After a moments consideration, the senior officer thumbed his radio again.
“Dispatch, this unit 54. 311 and 459 under control, have 10-66 in custody and bringing him in. Possible 5150.”
“Roger unit 54, showing you 10-19. We’ll be ready for you.”
“Unit 54 out. Man I really don’t feel like dealing with this kinda crap tonight.”
“Sir?”
“Oh, just taze ‘em, and we’ll throw him in the back.”
The man straightened up as best his could. “Taze me? That doesn’t sound very pleasant.”
Then came a popping sound from the young officer’s weapon, and the man in the dress went rigid as a board and then collapsed in the changing room. As the officers dragged him back to their squad car, he managed to find his breath again.
“Nope, not at all pleasant. Though I suppose it could be worse. So where are we going?”
The officers unceremoniously dumped him the back seat of their patrol cruiser, and slammed the door.
((Fweee! whee I'm already having too much fun with this.))
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Reply
*She puts her hands in her lap and waits for Dame.* 
She then has to calm down and try to tell herself that Dame is a big girl and can take care of herself. After many hours of looking for her, she just can't believe Dame would just up and take off on her and not talk this out. 
