ng_murderworld (ng_murderworld) wrote in marvel_nextgen,
@ 2010-01-25 18:42:00

Current location:	New Orleans, LA
Current mood:	amused
Entry tags:	antaeus, argo, inactive - alisa lebeau, inactive - entienne lebeau, inactive - lyta braddock-worthington, lady devil, nicholas salem, perenawska, plot-"welcome to murderworld", team - champions

It's the Greatest Show on Earth!
The van that turned down the street in front of the Champion's home looked like any other brown delivery truck. Black and gold letters painting it's side and a man in a uniform consisting of a hat, button-up shirt and shorts the same drab color of his van looking as bored as one could with his job. The van stopped just short of the former night club's entrance. The delivery driver turned around in his seat and rummaged around for the small package he had for the inhabitants.

Hopping out of his van, 10x10 box tucked under his arm, he headed to the door and rapped on it three times. Not waiting for an answer - there was no signature confirmation requested - he set it on the top step and went back to his van, signed off on his clipboard and started the vehicle up.

By the time the door to the old club opened, he was already driving away to carry on with the rest of his deliveries.

The brown cardboard box, ten inches by exactly ten inches was addressed to The Most Worthy 'Champion' and weighed perhaps three pounds at the most. There was no return address.

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ng_murderworld
2010-01-27 10:59 pm UTC (link)

When Ennie wakes up, he'll find himself in a surreal scene of his own. He's tied, spread-eagled and partly suspended at the bottom of a giant teacup. There's no way to see outside the ride, only straight up.

The ride is moving by the time he wakes up, rolling and spinning and grinding along in time with the music.
The music? Sort of a jingly, carnivalized version of 'I'm a Little Teacup'.
Except every time it reaches 'tip me over and pour me out', the ride passes under a water spout which drizzles a little bit of sweet, hot strawberry tea into the cup.

Were that not bad enough, the entire ceiling is a series of television screens. Given all the different angles Arcade has footage of Alisa from over in the house of mirrors, and the time where she was laying unconscious, it only takes a little creative digital editing to put her terrified face onto the reasonably fitting bodies of all manner of victims from snuff films, BDSM work and whatever else could be quickly dug up, so he has his very own private showing of all the wonderful things that could be happening to his sister right this very moment while he has his tea.

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designergene
2010-01-27 11:11 pm UTC (link)

Enteinne's eyes widened at the pictures of Alisa, heart straining against his chest in panic. He couldn't feel her emotions anymore, she was too far away. He couldn't feel anyone's emotions, had nothing to pull on and charge his bonds with. The boy could only scream his sister's name and curse at whoever was doing this.

The cup passed under the tea pot and he barely registered the liquid even as it reddened his skin with the heat. Tea didn't matter. Only his sister mattered. If Alisa was dead... "Please god... don't let her be dead," he moaned quietly as he watched her face - so many faces - twist in terror while people abused her on the screens above.

He had failed to protect her.

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ng_murderworld
2010-01-27 11:31 pm UTC (link)

That thought occurs as he passes under a particularly graphic and bloody scene, his sister's face digitially overlaid over the 'actress' in Arcade's snuff film. The cup pauses and spins a few times to add extra dizziness to the fun, letting him watch the bloody picture a little longer, while turning at a good clip, before it buzzes on to the next picture, and from there, hits the climax of the ever repetitive song, and more tea pours into the cup, now deep enough, when the cup moves, to slosh high enough to splash against his back now and then.

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designergene
2010-01-28 02:25 am UTC (link)

Enteinne had stopped struggling against the bonds, eyes close to dead leaking tears into the tea below him. Alisa. Dead. All he could see was his sister. The pain and the hurt. He had never been the most observant when it came to his sister. He didn't look past that face, didn't see the not-so-subtle digital editing.

Only his sister. Dead. And then the scene changed to a new one. Alisa, brutally raped, bound and gagged and beaten as she cried. Tried to fight the group of men around her. The editing was even less clean on this one and still Enteinne couldn't see past that face. The one he had dedicated his life to protecting.

The splashing of the tea against his back was only distantly acknowledged.

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ng_murderworld
2010-01-28 02:34 am UTC (link)

The next image the teacup stops under, spinning about violently, is a true one. And a voice pipes into the ride.
"Oh! oh! There she is!" it chimes, as Alisa, in the house of mirrors, reaches for Ennie's hand.
"Will you save her... will you...?"
And then she's shocked, being thrown back, twitching violently.

"Ooohhhh, nooooo! Afraid not. What's his consolation prize, Jim? What's that Jim, more tea?"
More scalding liquid pours into the cup, and it spins on as the voice continues.

"You know, I'm afraid I cheated and peeked. I knew how that one was going to come out. See, that was fifteen minutes ago."

The cup stops again under another digital manipulation of his sister, bound and gagged, naked and spread eagled, being worked over with pliars, branding irons and a lead pipe.
"This is her now."

More tea pours in, now deep enough to be in consistent skin contact.

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designergene
2010-01-28 02:40 am UTC (link)

Enteinne's anger burned anew. He roared at the voice, screaming a denial at what he saw but still unable to pull himself out of his bonds.

The liquid below him sloshed and splashed as he wrenched violently from side to side. He wanted out and could only taste the occasional strawberry as the tea splashed a few drops onto his face, into his open mouth.

He called out for his sister again. He had promised to never let her be treated like that. He had promised.

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ng_murderworld
2010-01-28 03:41 am UTC (link)

The longer it goes, the faster it goes, the ride spinning much faster now than it had been, the images turning into a blur for a few moments before it stops for another drop of tea into the cup.

"Ohhhh, my apologies, ma gran frere. I was wrong. That wasn't here... this is her."

The image clears when the cup slows to a struggling woman, once again naked and covered in bruises, with Alisa's face, being lowered into a piranha tank, very slowly.

"Or maybe this was it. So many choices." Arcade's laughing voice calls, as the cup spins and lurches its way under another tea drop, accompanied by the music, until it rests under a screen showing a woman with Alisa's face in a clear plexiglass box as it fills with water.

"So many choices... and how long were you unconscious, anyway? Maybe... just maybe, I tried them all, just to see what would finally do her in. Poor girl, so sad. I'm sorry you'll miss the funeral. I'll bring flowers for you."

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	designergene 2010-01-28 03:54 am UTC (link)
	This last bit finally broke the man. Where before the tears were of anger, they were now just sobs and hiccups of despair. Somewhere in the back of his heart he hoped the tea would rise enough to drown him so he could join his sister even if he could not suffer the way she obviously had. (Reply to this)(Parent)(Thread)

vicious_cycle
2010-01-28 04:00 am UTC (link)

Its close. A couple more spins, and his head is going under. Sure, he could buy himself maybe two, three more minutes if he fought and struggled, but why bother, right?

The tea laps over his head, scalding hot at first, not enough to do him in alone as it mixes with the cooler tea, but drowning? Eventually, that'll do it.

It lasts long enough that he's beginning to hallucinate for lack of oxygen. And surely a flash of fire in the distance, and growls of a motorcycle are just more hallucionations, especially dimmed as they are by the liquid, right?

But as the Spirit of Vengeance fights a robot of the man who once unknowingly abandoned two children, there's the merest hint of a spark of real emotion. Its distant, but the Rider's emotions are raw, primal things. If he can hold out just a little longer, they may come close enough for the boy to do something about his situation, but he's been under a while now...

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designergene
2010-01-28 04:12 am UTC (link)

Enteinne's eyes, having closed as the tea overcame his face, moved beneath their lids. His face scrunching in mild annoyance at the emotions. They would just prolong his death...

The broil of vengence pushed at him, even as distant as it was. Filling him slowing and skewing his perceptions. He felt the desire for his own revenge grow with this outside force.

He no longer wanted to die. He wanted to destroy the bastard that did this to his sister. He just needed a little more of that emotion. A little closer.

Enteinne struggled to keep his head above the sickly sweet tea.

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vicious_cycle
2010-01-28 04:26 am UTC (link)

The Rider can't see Ennie's peril. He's navigating on guilt and innocence now, and for what he has or hasn't done, Lyta still wins that one over the New Orleans street rat.

The tea is rushing fast now. Murderworld is ready to claim its victim. There's one, and only one moment of fresh air in the struggle, and then the tea fills in, and there's no more air, just a gasp of sweet, choking strawberry tea.

But the emotions are flooding the area now. Raw, primal, hungry. If Murderworld has done nothing else, it has filled the Rider with a fury like few even Zarathos has ever felt.

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designergene
2010-01-28 04:32 am UTC (link)

He takes one last gulp of air and focuses on that well of emotion. Not very close, but strong enough to breech the distance between them. His fingers stretch out and touch the sides of the tea cup and he pushes the emotions filling him outward, converting feelings into energy.

When he let go of the engery, the the ride exploded around him and only the tea, that torturous air-depriving heated liquid, kept him from destroying himself.

He could breathe once more and lay there, curled in a ball, sucking in the air. He didn't know how long he did so. But it was enough for him to push himself unsteadily to his feet and begin searching for that well of vengence. Perhaps that person would know where to find his sister's murderer.

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