Don't scream. Whatever you do, don't scream, they'll use it against you, it will only hurt more. Keep your eyes open and take your punishment, solder, it's for your own good. The pain makes you sharper and you do want to be the best, don't you?
Maketh scrambles back, hitting the wall. It hurts, but her adrenaline is firing too hard for it to really register. They've locked her in a cell with a fucking monster. This is her punishment. Be useful or get torn apart slowly.
How clever. How fucking clever.
She pulls her knees up to her chest and holds them there, just breathing.
Well. What options does she have now? Wait for Rita to wake up and rip her apart? It's going to be ugly. Maketh knows very well that she's not strong enough to fight back, not hard enough to make it work. She could take her belt off and try to strangle Rita while she's unconscious, but that likely won't be effective. If Rita was exposed to the virus - evidently she was - then she'll be stronger than she ought to be, with a slow heartbeat and deaden sense of pain. Very little is going to even slow her down.
A shotgun, perhaps. Maybe a handgun aimed just so. Certainly not her belt.
"Goddamn," she murmurs. This is an awful mess she's gotten herself into.
The room doesn't answer. Rita, apparently, is still unconscious.
Maketh considers her options. None of them end gently. The Empire is done with her. She failed, she was punished. So it goes. She should have just taken it when the notice came. Someone had to be blamed. It was her fault for running. Now she's going to be snapped in half like a disobedient cadet.
It would have been easier if she'd just taken it head on. They would have killed her quickly, at least. They killed her men quickly.
Maketh thumps her head against the wall.
Well. She has one card left to play. Apparently someone thinks she's useful. That she has information they could take. Given enough time, she'll either give it to them or lose what's left of her mind. Maketh closes her eyes and focuses on her breathing. The last card is to remove herself from the board entirely.
Why not? She's dead already. Whatever these people intend with Rita, it's unlikely Maketh will change anything.
Besides, Rita is smart. Probably clever when sufficiently motivated. And oh, she's been motivated now.
Maketh opens her eyes. Sighs.
This part will be messy. It's going to hurt. She might lose her nerve.
No. Never that. She's always been good at committing.
They took her gun. Her hidden knife, too. But not her teeth.
Maketh exhales roughly. How barbaric. But here they are. Desperate situations, as they say. And wasn't it true that the virus was spread by a bite in the first place?
Maybe that makes this ironic.
She bites down on her good arm, and twists.
There's blood. She bites again. A lot of blood. It hurts.
She lets her mind drift. Lets it go.
And comes back abruptly to find herself being shook hard, hands tight on her wrist and Agent Kallus - that motherfucker - glaring down at her.
"Bastard," she whispers.
Kallus narrows his eyes. "You! Get over here, I need your help."
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timeasmymeasure
cw for suicide attempt
Date: 2017-01-02 10:06 pm (UTC)Maketh scrambles back, hitting the wall. It hurts, but her adrenaline is firing too hard for it to really register. They've locked her in a cell with a fucking monster. This is her punishment. Be useful or get torn apart slowly.
How clever. How fucking clever.
She pulls her knees up to her chest and holds them there, just breathing.
Well. What options does she have now? Wait for Rita to wake up and rip her apart? It's going to be ugly. Maketh knows very well that she's not strong enough to fight back, not hard enough to make it work. She could take her belt off and try to strangle Rita while she's unconscious, but that likely won't be effective. If Rita was exposed to the virus - evidently she was - then she'll be stronger than she ought to be, with a slow heartbeat and deaden sense of pain. Very little is going to even slow her down.
A shotgun, perhaps. Maybe a handgun aimed just so. Certainly not her belt.
"Goddamn," she murmurs. This is an awful mess she's gotten herself into.
The room doesn't answer. Rita, apparently, is still unconscious.
Maketh considers her options. None of them end gently. The Empire is done with her. She failed, she was punished. So it goes. She should have just taken it when the notice came. Someone had to be blamed. It was her fault for running. Now she's going to be snapped in half like a disobedient cadet.
It would have been easier if she'd just taken it head on. They would have killed her quickly, at least. They killed her men quickly.
Maketh thumps her head against the wall.
Well. She has one card left to play. Apparently someone thinks she's useful. That she has information they could take. Given enough time, she'll either give it to them or lose what's left of her mind. Maketh closes her eyes and focuses on her breathing. The last card is to remove herself from the board entirely.
Why not? She's dead already. Whatever these people intend with Rita, it's unlikely Maketh will change anything.
Besides, Rita is smart. Probably clever when sufficiently motivated. And oh, she's been motivated now.
Maketh opens her eyes. Sighs.
This part will be messy. It's going to hurt. She might lose her nerve.
No. Never that. She's always been good at committing.
They took her gun. Her hidden knife, too. But not her teeth.
Maketh exhales roughly. How barbaric. But here they are. Desperate situations, as they say. And wasn't it true that the virus was spread by a bite in the first place?
Maybe that makes this ironic.
She bites down on her good arm, and twists.
There's blood. She bites again. A lot of blood. It hurts.
She lets her mind drift. Lets it go.
And comes back abruptly to find herself being shook hard, hands tight on her wrist and Agent Kallus - that motherfucker - glaring down at her.
"Bastard," she whispers.
Kallus narrows his eyes. "You! Get over here, I need your help."