Crispin grasped his hand, tugging against his arm, trying to pull away as the barbed wire tightened, cutting through his glove and piercing his skin.
His growling turning into gasping as a tentacle latched onto his face, eating through the bandages as a familiar pain began to return and heighten, just like the first day.
Gasping turned to shrieking as Crispin’s shoes squeaked along the ground as he tried to clamber away.
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Moderator: SOTF Supers Staff
Catche thinks my squirrel is Fisk so here's my daily reminder that he is not.
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Catche Jagger
- Posts: 743
- Joined: Tue May 28, 2019 7:40 pm
- Team Affiliation: Ben's Crabs
The fight had been going as Alan had hoped at first, though things were getting a bit drawn out. Though Ray’s gift made him extremely dangerous in close quarters, Crispin’s enhanced speed and strength allowed him to avoid stuffing any major injuries initially, though the matter of actually finishing Ray still needed an answer, which Alan thought Crispin would answer in short order.
Then he saw Crispin deliver a punch to Ray, only for the arm to get caught inside. Alan’s expression fell.
“Fuck…” He hissed. Crispin had drawn blood, but now Ray had him caught and was going to dissolve him or digest him, whatever the fuck that gift specifically did.
And what the hell was Alan going to do? He sure as fuck couldn’t fight somebody like Ray, definitely couldn’t stop what was happening to Crispin, who just kept screaming and struggling.
So Alan made a wager, the kind of wager that a desperate idiot makes when he’s already out of chips. Moving in heavy strides, Alan came up behind Ray and pressed his hand into his back.
He bet that the difficulty Ray was about to have controlling his form was going to be worse than how much it was going to hurt Crispin and himself.
Unleashing his Gift, Alan felt Ray’s flesh ripple and deform around his hand, just as he felt his fingers begin to burn.
Letting out a scream, Alan stumbled backwards and tumbled onto the floor.
Then he saw Crispin deliver a punch to Ray, only for the arm to get caught inside. Alan’s expression fell.
“Fuck…” He hissed. Crispin had drawn blood, but now Ray had him caught and was going to dissolve him or digest him, whatever the fuck that gift specifically did.
And what the hell was Alan going to do? He sure as fuck couldn’t fight somebody like Ray, definitely couldn’t stop what was happening to Crispin, who just kept screaming and struggling.
So Alan made a wager, the kind of wager that a desperate idiot makes when he’s already out of chips. Moving in heavy strides, Alan came up behind Ray and pressed his hand into his back.
He bet that the difficulty Ray was about to have controlling his form was going to be worse than how much it was going to hurt Crispin and himself.
Unleashing his Gift, Alan felt Ray’s flesh ripple and deform around his hand, just as he felt his fingers begin to burn.
Letting out a scream, Alan stumbled backwards and tumbled onto the floor.
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carduinal-cyn
- Posts: 324
- Joined: Sun Oct 11, 2020 5:56 pm
- Team Affiliation: Emmy's Selkies
Raymond felt someone's hand below his shoulder. Just his luck. He'd been focusing on Crispin so long that he hadn't paid attention to his little toady. Large-sized toady, actually, Alan was taller and fatter than the roasted squirrel. More of a morsel, but less willing to get his hands dirty. Ah, well. Tradeoffs. His Gift must have been weak. That's the only reason why he wasn't double-teaming Ray before, only fighting back when he knew he'd lose that annoying fucking furry. What a coward. At least he'd go down quick and easy...
A tingle shot through Ray's body.
A ripple spread out from the spot Alan touched.
There was a moment of pinprick stillness.
Then, it happened.
Raymond's whole body gave a shudder, and the surface changed from rubbery and doughy to slick and glistening with sweat. His mouth elongated. Then it deformed into a half-liquefied tube of flesh. He could feel a fire lit within him, one that surged through all his nerves until he felt like he could do anything. Power was coursing through him. He could only bask in the face of a sensation this incredible. His arms fell to his sides. Crispin, Alan, all of these idiots would respect him now! They'd regret the way they stared at him from the bottom of his stomach!
Ray's blobby self gave an abrupt jerk. Crunches and cracks filled the air. Long, thin legs formed from the muck, and a great gangling body went with it. One eye glowered down at the other boys. Five thick, sausagey fingers spilled out of his head at odd angles. The neck grew and grew until it resembled a third arm growing out of the top of his body; it weighed him down, and his whole form lurched forward as his knees buckled. A gaping wound opened in his stomach, and pointed teeth filled it on each side.
"Ahhh, I've never felt better!"
A tingle shot through Ray's body.
A ripple spread out from the spot Alan touched.
There was a moment of pinprick stillness.
Then, it happened.
Raymond's whole body gave a shudder, and the surface changed from rubbery and doughy to slick and glistening with sweat. His mouth elongated. Then it deformed into a half-liquefied tube of flesh. He could feel a fire lit within him, one that surged through all his nerves until he felt like he could do anything. Power was coursing through him. He could only bask in the face of a sensation this incredible. His arms fell to his sides. Crispin, Alan, all of these idiots would respect him now! They'd regret the way they stared at him from the bottom of his stomach!
Ray's blobby self gave an abrupt jerk. Crunches and cracks filled the air. Long, thin legs formed from the muck, and a great gangling body went with it. One eye glowered down at the other boys. Five thick, sausagey fingers spilled out of his head at odd angles. The neck grew and grew until it resembled a third arm growing out of the top of his body; it weighed him down, and his whole form lurched forward as his knees buckled. A gaping wound opened in his stomach, and pointed teeth filled it on each side.
"Ahhh, I've never felt better!"
Crispin pulled back as the tentacle was pressing through his burns, in between the scars, the cracks, the pores themselves as the burning ramped into intensity before deep freezing into numbness. Of all the ways to lose this shit, his fucking home made tetanus glove getting snagged was probably the dumbest way to-
“hhh-Halan!” It was hard enough to scream, let alone speak when your face was getting stretched off your skull; “Hish zhe fuck baf!” What in the fuck?! Why wasn’t Alan running, if Crispy was snagged up what was he gonna do, make it eat him faster? If this was his idea of a mercy kill, he was better off running, all he was doing was getting himself killed, affirmed by him starting to scream shortly after closing the distance.
Suddenly he felt the pain increase again, white hot fire forming under his face, around his eye, inside it as the right half of his face began to burn once more, a bright light filling the right peripheral of his vision, before going black again as something popped inside his head. He screamed again as Ray changed shape in front of him, stretching over him, looming, as his arm pulled free of the form.
Stronger as he were, he was softer too…
Crispin shrieked about as loud as he did when Noah shot him as he jerked his head away, the loosened tendril slipping out of his skull with the *shlorp* of a wet suction cup being opened.
Crispin fell to his ass on the ground as a torrent of blood jetted out of his now open eye socket, burnt flesh and popped eyeball staying with Ray. He buried his head in his shoulder to stop the bleeding, glancing up as he watched the freak complete its transformation into what Crispy could only assume was Ray’s true self.
He crawled back on his legs and one arm, half expecting the shrieking faces of Noah, Austin, and Sayuna to pop out begging to be killed as well. Fuck; that thing was really going to kill them. This shit was a fucking joke, will to fucking live returned just for this shit to fucking happen, to die to fucking Ray.
Crispin’s groans of pain became giggles. As he backpedaled, his hand brushed against some concrete debris.
“hhh-Halan!” It was hard enough to scream, let alone speak when your face was getting stretched off your skull; “Hish zhe fuck baf!” What in the fuck?! Why wasn’t Alan running, if Crispy was snagged up what was he gonna do, make it eat him faster? If this was his idea of a mercy kill, he was better off running, all he was doing was getting himself killed, affirmed by him starting to scream shortly after closing the distance.
Suddenly he felt the pain increase again, white hot fire forming under his face, around his eye, inside it as the right half of his face began to burn once more, a bright light filling the right peripheral of his vision, before going black again as something popped inside his head. He screamed again as Ray changed shape in front of him, stretching over him, looming, as his arm pulled free of the form.
Stronger as he were, he was softer too…
Crispin shrieked about as loud as he did when Noah shot him as he jerked his head away, the loosened tendril slipping out of his skull with the *shlorp* of a wet suction cup being opened.
Crispin fell to his ass on the ground as a torrent of blood jetted out of his now open eye socket, burnt flesh and popped eyeball staying with Ray. He buried his head in his shoulder to stop the bleeding, glancing up as he watched the freak complete its transformation into what Crispy could only assume was Ray’s true self.
He crawled back on his legs and one arm, half expecting the shrieking faces of Noah, Austin, and Sayuna to pop out begging to be killed as well. Fuck; that thing was really going to kill them. This shit was a fucking joke, will to fucking live returned just for this shit to fucking happen, to die to fucking Ray.
Crispin’s groans of pain became giggles. As he backpedaled, his hand brushed against some concrete debris.
Catche thinks my squirrel is Fisk so here's my daily reminder that he is not.
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carduinal-cyn
- Posts: 324
- Joined: Sun Oct 11, 2020 5:56 pm
- Team Affiliation: Emmy's Selkies
The makeshift mouth on the monster's pot-belly twitched into a delirious, half-open gape. Electric joy surged through every nerve in his body. His form seemed unable to stay completely still, shivering and loosing droplets of foul-smelling sweat as he sucked in heavy breaths. Raymond flexed his distended arm-head experimentally; it dripped onto a puddle of Crispin's blood. He'd sucked up something in his haste; it was ashy and gelatinous at the same time, like the gristle of overcooked meat.
"You taste disgusting, Crispin," Raymond hissed.
At least it'd be over soon. He felt powerful, more than the time he'd accepted his first hundred-dollar commission. But in the face of his inevitable death, Crispin was chuckling to himself. Fucking laughing his head off at the thought of being eaten. Somehow, that only incensed Raymond further. Squirrel-boy was easy prey now — he didn't even have half his face anymore — and he still thought he was in The Squeakquel, like he could get away and yuk it up. He was ruining Ray's moment!
The hand of fate stalked after the other boy, misshapen legs leaving a trail of sludge behind them. The enormous, telescoping arm-neck lashed out. His fingers were all outstretched. His eye stared ahead madly, full of single-minded rage and hate.
"You taste disgusting, Crispin," Raymond hissed.
At least it'd be over soon. He felt powerful, more than the time he'd accepted his first hundred-dollar commission. But in the face of his inevitable death, Crispin was chuckling to himself. Fucking laughing his head off at the thought of being eaten. Somehow, that only incensed Raymond further. Squirrel-boy was easy prey now — he didn't even have half his face anymore — and he still thought he was in The Squeakquel, like he could get away and yuk it up. He was ruining Ray's moment!
The hand of fate stalked after the other boy, misshapen legs leaving a trail of sludge behind them. The enormous, telescoping arm-neck lashed out. His fingers were all outstretched. His eye stared ahead madly, full of single-minded rage and hate.
Crispy gripped the concrete clump behind his hand. He glanced up and saw the hand-eye creature lean over and slurp up blood, his blood, like a dog. Only once the arm took it's attention to look back up at him, and speak it's phrase, did Crispin laugh even harder. All the things this motherfucker says, the way he looks, and this motherfucker says 'he's disgusting?'
Well... before this fight Crispy thought he couldn't get any uglier, suppose he was still right, unless this thing grabbed his good side. Crispy laughed some more, back pedaling on his arm, rock in hand, his other arm dropped, letting the blood spill out, the cold air whisper through his skull as his he dragged himself backwards. "Aheh, heheh... I hope I give you the shits then, you fucking wimp!" He chucked the rock at Ray, and saw it stick, before sinking in. As the rock sunk, so did an idea, and so did Crispin, spiraling into a barely contained rage hidden only by his laughter. He turned his head and glanced behind him, and saw what he needed to do.
Back pedaling, he continued to toss chunks of concrete into Ray, some hit, some missed, all the ones that hit imbedded themselves. Maybe they didn't do that much damage, but it let Crispy know just how soft the bastard really was, that he could beat him, he just needed a little bit of help to avoid touching him. Alan you fucking genius, sorry for doubting you!
Crispy stumbled over and chucked another rock as he rolled to his feet, a wave of nausea overflowing him. He stumbled and leant against the wall, he didn't have time to get sick. He needed to get to that pile of rubble down the hall, he saw something there that was exactly what he needed. He gripped the wall and pushed off, sprinting as fast as he could for the short distance before stumbling over and tripping.
He pulled himself to his knees and vomited up an empty cocktail of blood and bile, pushing off the ground and stumbling to the first of the two tools he needed. He slipped a blood and whatever-the-fuck-Ray-was-made-of pair of fingers into the bullet hole left in Lincoln. "Hey useless... Me again. Wanna be- wanna be useful for once?" He picked the orb up, and stumbled over to the rubble, to the rebar jutting out of the pile. Weirdly numb fingers slipped around it, it felt like his whole body was going to sleep. Shit, if he dies here and now, this'd just piss him off more than anything else that's happened to him. Hell, that's probably all that's keeping him alive at this point; spite and fuckmad fury being the best anastasia one can get. He pressed his shoe into the rubble and pulled.
Even with Alan's gift wearing off, even in his weakened state, he was strong enough to pull the bar out, strong enough to crack a skull or shatter it. Just weak enough for a motherfucker to hang around and feel it before they passed. "Ck-C'mon bitch, fuck outta -ere." He stumbled back as the bar slid free, just barely slipping and losing balance. He turned around and drunkenly pointed the bar at Ray, both of them. He snarled.
"Hope you're hungry motherfucker... Your last meal's coming up bitch, get ready to eat shit." Crispy felt his chest heave. One more motherfucker in the way. That's it. So close to the end, you ain't going like this. Ain't started shit, but you're gonna finish it, this ain't nothing different. Keep living, just to spite the last motherfucker. Fuck Mercy, fuck Austin, fuck Kaine, and fuck Ray. Ain't nothing gonna stop him here, not while he can still swing.
"FUCKIN' SEND IT, DAWG!"
Well... before this fight Crispy thought he couldn't get any uglier, suppose he was still right, unless this thing grabbed his good side. Crispy laughed some more, back pedaling on his arm, rock in hand, his other arm dropped, letting the blood spill out, the cold air whisper through his skull as his he dragged himself backwards. "Aheh, heheh... I hope I give you the shits then, you fucking wimp!" He chucked the rock at Ray, and saw it stick, before sinking in. As the rock sunk, so did an idea, and so did Crispin, spiraling into a barely contained rage hidden only by his laughter. He turned his head and glanced behind him, and saw what he needed to do.
Back pedaling, he continued to toss chunks of concrete into Ray, some hit, some missed, all the ones that hit imbedded themselves. Maybe they didn't do that much damage, but it let Crispy know just how soft the bastard really was, that he could beat him, he just needed a little bit of help to avoid touching him. Alan you fucking genius, sorry for doubting you!
Crispy stumbled over and chucked another rock as he rolled to his feet, a wave of nausea overflowing him. He stumbled and leant against the wall, he didn't have time to get sick. He needed to get to that pile of rubble down the hall, he saw something there that was exactly what he needed. He gripped the wall and pushed off, sprinting as fast as he could for the short distance before stumbling over and tripping.
He pulled himself to his knees and vomited up an empty cocktail of blood and bile, pushing off the ground and stumbling to the first of the two tools he needed. He slipped a blood and whatever-the-fuck-Ray-was-made-of pair of fingers into the bullet hole left in Lincoln. "Hey useless... Me again. Wanna be- wanna be useful for once?" He picked the orb up, and stumbled over to the rubble, to the rebar jutting out of the pile. Weirdly numb fingers slipped around it, it felt like his whole body was going to sleep. Shit, if he dies here and now, this'd just piss him off more than anything else that's happened to him. Hell, that's probably all that's keeping him alive at this point; spite and fuckmad fury being the best anastasia one can get. He pressed his shoe into the rubble and pulled.
Even with Alan's gift wearing off, even in his weakened state, he was strong enough to pull the bar out, strong enough to crack a skull or shatter it. Just weak enough for a motherfucker to hang around and feel it before they passed. "Ck-C'mon bitch, fuck outta -ere." He stumbled back as the bar slid free, just barely slipping and losing balance. He turned around and drunkenly pointed the bar at Ray, both of them. He snarled.
"Hope you're hungry motherfucker... Your last meal's coming up bitch, get ready to eat shit." Crispy felt his chest heave. One more motherfucker in the way. That's it. So close to the end, you ain't going like this. Ain't started shit, but you're gonna finish it, this ain't nothing different. Keep living, just to spite the last motherfucker. Fuck Mercy, fuck Austin, fuck Kaine, and fuck Ray. Ain't nothing gonna stop him here, not while he can still swing.
"FUCKIN' SEND IT, DAWG!"
Catche thinks my squirrel is Fisk so here's my daily reminder that he is not.
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carduinal-cyn
- Posts: 324
- Joined: Sun Oct 11, 2020 5:56 pm
- Team Affiliation: Emmy's Selkies
More and more rocks lodged themselves in Ray's fragile skin. A few of them left glancing blows; a few were absorbed entirely, filling his body with a rough, crunchy taste; but most of them took chunks of his physique with them. A mixture of blood, viscera and rubble pooled on the floor behind him. His body lost mass. It was the closest thing he'd ever had to a weight loss program — not that he was thanking Crispin. He'd gone from orgasmic, manic bloodthirst to searing, bleeding agony.
Ray had kept his other eye trained on the area behind him, in case someone got the bright idea to stab him in the back while he was distracted. Now, the only thing he could see were pieces of himself, trailing behind him. He felt like a pencil eraser: he was powerless to actually do his job, he left a foul pink trail over everything he touched, and he was about to be rubbed out if he didn't act and fast. Nothing behind him. Only Crispin. The eye was absorbed back into his skin and came out just above his belly-mouth. He was just in time to see Crispin pointing something at him, rambling about "last meals". Pfft. Did the punch-drunk rodent really think he'd get the jump on Raymond LaSalle, the top of his class, greatest artist at Duniway High School? Ridiculous!
Ray was little more than patchwork now, barely keeping himself together. Organs showed through the huge holes left behind in his fleshy surface. He stretched what was left of his body over the gore. Flaps of flesh. Barely helpful. He was still oozing blood, and his vision was beginning to spin.
But he wouldn't let that stop him. Forgoing intimidation, the formless mass raced at Crispin, every vital organ pushed into the furthest recesses until they strained against his skin.
If he died today... he'd take the vermin with him.
Ray had kept his other eye trained on the area behind him, in case someone got the bright idea to stab him in the back while he was distracted. Now, the only thing he could see were pieces of himself, trailing behind him. He felt like a pencil eraser: he was powerless to actually do his job, he left a foul pink trail over everything he touched, and he was about to be rubbed out if he didn't act and fast. Nothing behind him. Only Crispin. The eye was absorbed back into his skin and came out just above his belly-mouth. He was just in time to see Crispin pointing something at him, rambling about "last meals". Pfft. Did the punch-drunk rodent really think he'd get the jump on Raymond LaSalle, the top of his class, greatest artist at Duniway High School? Ridiculous!
Ray was little more than patchwork now, barely keeping himself together. Organs showed through the huge holes left behind in his fleshy surface. He stretched what was left of his body over the gore. Flaps of flesh. Barely helpful. He was still oozing blood, and his vision was beginning to spin.
But he wouldn't let that stop him. Forgoing intimidation, the formless mass raced at Crispin, every vital organ pushed into the furthest recesses until they strained against his skin.
If he died today... he'd take the vermin with him.
Behind all the tentacles and teeth, Crispy had realized just how fragile Ray really was. He snarled, full on rabid now. Played a big game, some nigh unkillable t-1000 ass blob sumbitch that thought he could just absorb people like a fucking germ. Seeing him leak and shrink, then stretch himself to fill those spots proved he ain’t shit but some slimy ass balloon, filled with hot dog water and ego. That’s it, not even dead meat. Just a sack of shit.
A sack of shit that took his eye from him. An eye he thought he lost from Mercy, but apparently the burns were only skin deep. The creature charged, as did Crispy.
Payback time. And what better way to get back than to poke a hole into another membrane filled with nerves and goop?
As he closed the distance, Crispin parried the first tentacle away with Lincoln, then moved in to seal the real damage, pushing the rebar through Ray’s hand, and the eye in the center.
Crispin shrieked as the freak squealed, reeling back, not enjoying the same treatment it had delivered to him, as Crispy brought his leg up, and brought his foot down on the bony knee of one of the thin legs holding it up right, snapping it into a reverse of it’s form.
Crispy reeled back, and punched Lincoln into the maw on the creature’s belly, breaking through the teeth and lodging him within it’s maw.
He grinned, ear to ear. He was gonna show this Chronenburg copycat real horror movie shit.
A sack of shit that took his eye from him. An eye he thought he lost from Mercy, but apparently the burns were only skin deep. The creature charged, as did Crispy.
Payback time. And what better way to get back than to poke a hole into another membrane filled with nerves and goop?
As he closed the distance, Crispin parried the first tentacle away with Lincoln, then moved in to seal the real damage, pushing the rebar through Ray’s hand, and the eye in the center.
Crispin shrieked as the freak squealed, reeling back, not enjoying the same treatment it had delivered to him, as Crispy brought his leg up, and brought his foot down on the bony knee of one of the thin legs holding it up right, snapping it into a reverse of it’s form.
Crispy reeled back, and punched Lincoln into the maw on the creature’s belly, breaking through the teeth and lodging him within it’s maw.
He grinned, ear to ear. He was gonna show this Chronenburg copycat real horror movie shit.
Catche thinks my squirrel is Fisk so here's my daily reminder that he is not.
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carduinal-cyn
- Posts: 324
- Joined: Sun Oct 11, 2020 5:56 pm
- Team Affiliation: Emmy's Selkies
Crispin was still fighting? Hadn't there been enough refuse out of his insufferable—
AAAAAAAAAAAA
Raymond fell backwards from the blow. His left eye was gone. That little shit! An eye for an eye wasn't supposed to be taken literally! Why couldn't the squirrel be of use to someone in his miserable life and just let himself be consumed?!?
Vitreous fluid seeped through the monster's fingers. He groped blindly along the passage with its now-blind hand. Finding nothing, he fell onto his back; his belly-mouth burbled out an incoherent mix of growls and curses. "How dare you... aaargh, FUCK! My EYE! You fuckin'... uurgh... Piece of shit...!"
He'd never known a humiliation like this. Sure, a lot of people could say they were bullied in high school, but outright blinded? By Crispin Cuyler, the knuckle-dragging scum of Duniway? This wouldn't stand! God, the furries would be saying it too. And here's Raymond LaSalle, bludgeoned to death in his prime. That owl-masked bitch. She'd ruined so many lives. Ray wanted to go to college, get his PhD, draw and draw and draw until he could retire at 50 — but here he was, killer of three, about to die because of a fat fucking squirrel with a chip on his shoulder. He moved to beat a hasty retreat, but he wasn't quick enough. Crispin brought his foot down on his leg before he could even try.
Raymond's head, or what was left of it, reverted back normal. A soft, pudgy face emerged, framed with blond hair. But apart from the eye — an oozing, gaping cavity that the blob quickly forced shut — it was unmistakably Austin Greene's. Choking on Lincoln's orb, Ray's body began to shift again, and the faces of Sayuna and Noah rose from the writhing mass of flesh. The crude mockeries of Ray's victims all looked at Crispin with pitiful eye-sockets.
"Please," the abomination pleaded, his voice wet and sorrowful. "You're making a mistake..."
AAAAAAAAAAAA
Raymond fell backwards from the blow. His left eye was gone. That little shit! An eye for an eye wasn't supposed to be taken literally! Why couldn't the squirrel be of use to someone in his miserable life and just let himself be consumed?!?
Vitreous fluid seeped through the monster's fingers. He groped blindly along the passage with its now-blind hand. Finding nothing, he fell onto his back; his belly-mouth burbled out an incoherent mix of growls and curses. "How dare you... aaargh, FUCK! My EYE! You fuckin'... uurgh... Piece of shit...!"
He'd never known a humiliation like this. Sure, a lot of people could say they were bullied in high school, but outright blinded? By Crispin Cuyler, the knuckle-dragging scum of Duniway? This wouldn't stand! God, the furries would be saying it too. And here's Raymond LaSalle, bludgeoned to death in his prime. That owl-masked bitch. She'd ruined so many lives. Ray wanted to go to college, get his PhD, draw and draw and draw until he could retire at 50 — but here he was, killer of three, about to die because of a fat fucking squirrel with a chip on his shoulder. He moved to beat a hasty retreat, but he wasn't quick enough. Crispin brought his foot down on his leg before he could even try.
Raymond's head, or what was left of it, reverted back normal. A soft, pudgy face emerged, framed with blond hair. But apart from the eye — an oozing, gaping cavity that the blob quickly forced shut — it was unmistakably Austin Greene's. Choking on Lincoln's orb, Ray's body began to shift again, and the faces of Sayuna and Noah rose from the writhing mass of flesh. The crude mockeries of Ray's victims all looked at Crispin with pitiful eye-sockets.
"Please," the abomination pleaded, his voice wet and sorrowful. "You're making a mistake..."
Crispin stared down at the broken monstrosity, his eye twitching as the bastard had the audacity to complain over it's fucking eye. Crispy took a grim satisfaction in it. Fucker was beaten, no where for it's slimy ass to go, nothing more for it to say could change what was going to happen to it.
He wanted to chew dumb motherfucker fucker out, he did warn it that the fat shit wasn't going to get out of here alive if it wanted to start shit. Hey fucker I told you so, or some shit, but Ray wasn't worth the words. He shuddered, a twitch going down his body and up his tail. It was then Ray started changing, becoming faces that weren't his own.
Crispin's hands shook. Mentally he called this shit out, that something like this would happen, that... fuck they were still in there, weren't they? Hearing their voices, and Ray's speaking in unison, begging, pleading for their lives, it made Crispin sick to his stomach. Fucking Ray could've added him and Alan to that mess. Everything he could've been, assimilated into that, shared in a form with his worst enemies and Sayuna...
He wouldn't wish this fate on nobody, 'cept maybe Mercy, or Kaine. Austin kind of deserved it too, if they were really in there and this wasn't some mind game. He watched Lincoln's spherical form bulge and move inside of Ray, as he glanced back at Austin. Crispin scowled.
Was he making a mistake?
....
Nah. It was time to put them out of their misery, and to put Ray to sleep.
"Bullshit, I never even liked you motherfuckers."
Crispin brought his arm up and brought the rebar down like a sledgehammer into Lincoln's orb, shattering it inside Ray's form and sending it's shards and shrapnel through it's flabby body. Shrieking his war cry, Crispy raised the bar again, and golf swung into Austin's head, he was waiting for this moment too, to be honest, and broke the upper half of his skull off of his lower jaw, leaving it hanging by a flap of skin.
Crispin screamed and swung, bringing the rebar down again and again, splattering Ray all over himself, all over the hall, just all over. He wanted this thing gone, he didn't want to look at it any more, didn't want to hear it, to feel it. He wanted to never see any of this shit again, to hard reset his brain and forget any of the last few minutes that happened, to just be back home, noshing on some Sour Patch Kids or shooting Roman Candles at Brian's bitch ass or sending shopping carts flying down the K Mart aisles with Moose, or-
Crispin's shrieks turned into laughter. No, he wanted this. He wanted to destroy Ray, eradicate him. Bastard asked for it, he fucked around, and he was in the process of finding out. He wanted to draw it out, wanted Ray to keep begging, to turn from monster back to little bitch, he wanted to just end it and take him out and get on with it. He wanted to go home, he wanted a motherfucker to try shit again. He wanted to just lie down and die, he wanted to keep killing out of spite, he wanted the pain to stop, he wanted Moose back, he wanted to be the one to waste Mercy he wanted-
He wanted to destroy. He wanted people to just leave him alone. He wanted none of this shit to happen.
Crispin threw the dented rebar away. Ray was too focused on putting what little of himself he had left together to try and eat.
He wanted a shower. He wanted to be painted in blood.
Crispin wanted to use his hands. So he did.
He wanted to chew dumb motherfucker fucker out, he did warn it that the fat shit wasn't going to get out of here alive if it wanted to start shit. Hey fucker I told you so, or some shit, but Ray wasn't worth the words. He shuddered, a twitch going down his body and up his tail. It was then Ray started changing, becoming faces that weren't his own.
Crispin's hands shook. Mentally he called this shit out, that something like this would happen, that... fuck they were still in there, weren't they? Hearing their voices, and Ray's speaking in unison, begging, pleading for their lives, it made Crispin sick to his stomach. Fucking Ray could've added him and Alan to that mess. Everything he could've been, assimilated into that, shared in a form with his worst enemies and Sayuna...
He wouldn't wish this fate on nobody, 'cept maybe Mercy, or Kaine. Austin kind of deserved it too, if they were really in there and this wasn't some mind game. He watched Lincoln's spherical form bulge and move inside of Ray, as he glanced back at Austin. Crispin scowled.
Was he making a mistake?
....
Nah. It was time to put them out of their misery, and to put Ray to sleep.
"Bullshit, I never even liked you motherfuckers."
Crispin brought his arm up and brought the rebar down like a sledgehammer into Lincoln's orb, shattering it inside Ray's form and sending it's shards and shrapnel through it's flabby body. Shrieking his war cry, Crispy raised the bar again, and golf swung into Austin's head, he was waiting for this moment too, to be honest, and broke the upper half of his skull off of his lower jaw, leaving it hanging by a flap of skin.
Crispin screamed and swung, bringing the rebar down again and again, splattering Ray all over himself, all over the hall, just all over. He wanted this thing gone, he didn't want to look at it any more, didn't want to hear it, to feel it. He wanted to never see any of this shit again, to hard reset his brain and forget any of the last few minutes that happened, to just be back home, noshing on some Sour Patch Kids or shooting Roman Candles at Brian's bitch ass or sending shopping carts flying down the K Mart aisles with Moose, or-
Crispin's shrieks turned into laughter. No, he wanted this. He wanted to destroy Ray, eradicate him. Bastard asked for it, he fucked around, and he was in the process of finding out. He wanted to draw it out, wanted Ray to keep begging, to turn from monster back to little bitch, he wanted to just end it and take him out and get on with it. He wanted to go home, he wanted a motherfucker to try shit again. He wanted to just lie down and die, he wanted to keep killing out of spite, he wanted the pain to stop, he wanted Moose back, he wanted to be the one to waste Mercy he wanted-
He wanted to destroy. He wanted people to just leave him alone. He wanted none of this shit to happen.
Crispin threw the dented rebar away. Ray was too focused on putting what little of himself he had left together to try and eat.
He wanted a shower. He wanted to be painted in blood.
Crispin wanted to use his hands. So he did.
Catche thinks my squirrel is Fisk so here's my daily reminder that he is not.
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carduinal-cyn
- Posts: 324
- Joined: Sun Oct 11, 2020 5:56 pm
- Team Affiliation: Emmy's Selkies
Finagle's law: "anything that can go wrong, will, at the worst possible moment."
That was the only possible explanation for why Ray was here now, writhing underneath Crispin's heel and begging for mercy. He hated dredging those three up. He hated feeling so very, very powerful and having that cruelly ripped away from him. He hated being blind in one eye. He hated blood and he hated pain. Most of all, he hated prostrating himself before an absolute loser like Crispin. Squirrel boy was going nowhere in life, that's for damned certain. His face was disfigured beyond belief. His grades probably made his parents want to disown him. And the less said about his attitude, the better. Raymond's desperate plea stared up at Crispin with dark black empty holes, and that was purposeful — the one eye he had left was drilling itself into his attacker with a contempt he'd never felt for anyone else in his whole miserable life.
Crispin's hands were shaking atop him. Hesitation? Had Ray actually convinced him? Was this his chance?
"Bullshit. I never even liked you motherfuckers."
nonononononononononononononononononononononononoNONONONONONONONO
All the hope, all the rage faded away in an instant.
Raymond had been anxious before. He knew the feeling even before it welled up in him. His stomach twisted itself into grotesque balloon-animal shapes, and his skin threatened to turn into rubbery, blubbery goop. He could brave the butterflies. But this... this was in a league of its own.
Ray never understood what it meant to be a deer in the headlights until that was all he was. When the soul-sphere shattered into his body, when the rebar slammed into him again and again, the dull brown eye stared ahead, trembling. Pain, rupturing deep inside of him. It was different from the rocks. This sapped all the warmth from deep inside of him. Heat radiated out from him, more and more, as blood and viscera splattered all over Crispin. Ray hoped some of that was his skin, and that he'd live long enough to see it eat away at that rotten sunuvabitch until they died together.
Wishful thinking. He was laughing, the bastard.
As the maniac dug through his flesh with glee, Raymond felt a powerful resignation overtake him. What had he actually accomplished on this great green earth? Nothing. He'd drawn for a VTuber, and then he'd killed her. He'd been a friend to the friendless, and then he'd killed him. And then the furries came, and made damn well sure no one else in the whole miserable class would ever escape. No one else but Crispin fucking Cuyler. When the cops came and pored through the owl-woman's stupid announcements, all they'd hear was Raymond LaSalle, melting some poor defenseless girl to nothing and killing two boys the next day. No one would care to learn more. Crispin would come knocking on his parents' door, saying look what your son did to me. They'd deny it, and then they'd hear the owl tapes, and they'd know that he was right.
S025: RAYMOND LASALLE — DECEASED
That was the only possible explanation for why Ray was here now, writhing underneath Crispin's heel and begging for mercy. He hated dredging those three up. He hated feeling so very, very powerful and having that cruelly ripped away from him. He hated being blind in one eye. He hated blood and he hated pain. Most of all, he hated prostrating himself before an absolute loser like Crispin. Squirrel boy was going nowhere in life, that's for damned certain. His face was disfigured beyond belief. His grades probably made his parents want to disown him. And the less said about his attitude, the better. Raymond's desperate plea stared up at Crispin with dark black empty holes, and that was purposeful — the one eye he had left was drilling itself into his attacker with a contempt he'd never felt for anyone else in his whole miserable life.
Crispin's hands were shaking atop him. Hesitation? Had Ray actually convinced him? Was this his chance?
"Bullshit. I never even liked you motherfuckers."
nonononononononononononononononononononononononoNONONONONONONONO
All the hope, all the rage faded away in an instant.
Raymond had been anxious before. He knew the feeling even before it welled up in him. His stomach twisted itself into grotesque balloon-animal shapes, and his skin threatened to turn into rubbery, blubbery goop. He could brave the butterflies. But this... this was in a league of its own.
Ray never understood what it meant to be a deer in the headlights until that was all he was. When the soul-sphere shattered into his body, when the rebar slammed into him again and again, the dull brown eye stared ahead, trembling. Pain, rupturing deep inside of him. It was different from the rocks. This sapped all the warmth from deep inside of him. Heat radiated out from him, more and more, as blood and viscera splattered all over Crispin. Ray hoped some of that was his skin, and that he'd live long enough to see it eat away at that rotten sunuvabitch until they died together.
Wishful thinking. He was laughing, the bastard.
As the maniac dug through his flesh with glee, Raymond felt a powerful resignation overtake him. What had he actually accomplished on this great green earth? Nothing. He'd drawn for a VTuber, and then he'd killed her. He'd been a friend to the friendless, and then he'd killed him. And then the furries came, and made damn well sure no one else in the whole miserable class would ever escape. No one else but Crispin fucking Cuyler. When the cops came and pored through the owl-woman's stupid announcements, all they'd hear was Raymond LaSalle, melting some poor defenseless girl to nothing and killing two boys the next day. No one would care to learn more. Crispin would come knocking on his parents' door, saying look what your son did to me. They'd deny it, and then they'd hear the owl tapes, and they'd know that he was right.
S025: RAYMOND LASALLE — DECEASED
At some point, Crispin realized the supposed bones he was punching through was just tile. There was no denying that Ray was fucking gone. He was fucking finished. Hands on knees, Crispin panted, covered in a mix of red, purple, and orange, as what's left of Ray bubbled and melted away below him like a Resident Evil 4 corpse. He slowly straightened up, gash torn open in his forehead, the lower part of his melted eye socket drooping down, jagged red canyons of open wounds going down his face, blood pouring out of all of it. What little bandages wrapped around his head only clung to him by sticking to the blood. An exhaustion began to take over Crispin, just like when he killed Kaine, only amplified, most likely from Alan's gift wearing off.
Shaking hands met, and Crispy removed a blood coated glove wrapped in wire. Wasn't hard, open the buckle, slide it off, the skin underneath stark white contrasted to the red coated fingers with the damaged purple skin coated in burns, bruises, and broken nails. The other hand was harder, the wire had cut through the glove, imbedded in his flesh. He uncoiled it, only lightly wincing as the wire and barbs gave way and slipped out of his skin. As the second glove dropped, Crispin had noticed that hand had taken significantly more damage from Ray, for the short miliseconds it'd been inside Ray at it's prime. A fingernail looked about ready to slough off, either being broken from Ray's acid, or clawing into the ground in place of Ray. Crispin yanked what remained of the claw out, the pain being more distant than he'd expected.
Crispin stepped forward in a daze. He didn't know what came next. He didn't know how many more of them were left, he didn't know if Ximena had made it out, or if she got caught, or if she'd be back in time with help to get them out of there. He honestly didn't know how much fight he had left in him, regardless of how strong or how weak the next motherfucker was, it was all taking it's toll on Crispin, body and mind.
He glanced up at Alan, as the pink and black stars started to fill his vision. He knew a few things though. Alan had came back, and he wasn't lying that he was trying to help, that he got Ximena out. If he were, he wouldn't have stayed, he wouldn't have fought Ray with him. When Alan saw a lost cause, he left, and that was the end of it. For Crispy he came back. He stayed for him. Crispin wouldn't have made it without...
Crispin knew one other thing. As long as he was here, he'd keep fighting, even if he fell apart, even if it took him. He gave up on going home, he knew the next fight would be it, if this one wasn't already, but he'd keep swinging until the end. Spite and fuck-mad fury kept him going this long, maybe a real purpose could keep him going for a little bit more.
Crispin stepped closer to Alan, jelly legged, his vision swirling. He stumbled over and leaned his back against the wall sliding down it.
His eye wandered over to Alan.
"Ay dood... You were right, man."
His eye grew heavy.
"You ain't weak. You ain't ever been..."
He slumped over.
Shaking hands met, and Crispy removed a blood coated glove wrapped in wire. Wasn't hard, open the buckle, slide it off, the skin underneath stark white contrasted to the red coated fingers with the damaged purple skin coated in burns, bruises, and broken nails. The other hand was harder, the wire had cut through the glove, imbedded in his flesh. He uncoiled it, only lightly wincing as the wire and barbs gave way and slipped out of his skin. As the second glove dropped, Crispin had noticed that hand had taken significantly more damage from Ray, for the short miliseconds it'd been inside Ray at it's prime. A fingernail looked about ready to slough off, either being broken from Ray's acid, or clawing into the ground in place of Ray. Crispin yanked what remained of the claw out, the pain being more distant than he'd expected.
Crispin stepped forward in a daze. He didn't know what came next. He didn't know how many more of them were left, he didn't know if Ximena had made it out, or if she got caught, or if she'd be back in time with help to get them out of there. He honestly didn't know how much fight he had left in him, regardless of how strong or how weak the next motherfucker was, it was all taking it's toll on Crispin, body and mind.
He glanced up at Alan, as the pink and black stars started to fill his vision. He knew a few things though. Alan had came back, and he wasn't lying that he was trying to help, that he got Ximena out. If he were, he wouldn't have stayed, he wouldn't have fought Ray with him. When Alan saw a lost cause, he left, and that was the end of it. For Crispy he came back. He stayed for him. Crispin wouldn't have made it without...
Crispin knew one other thing. As long as he was here, he'd keep fighting, even if he fell apart, even if it took him. He gave up on going home, he knew the next fight would be it, if this one wasn't already, but he'd keep swinging until the end. Spite and fuck-mad fury kept him going this long, maybe a real purpose could keep him going for a little bit more.
Crispin stepped closer to Alan, jelly legged, his vision swirling. He stumbled over and leaned his back against the wall sliding down it.
His eye wandered over to Alan.
"Ay dood... You were right, man."
His eye grew heavy.
"You ain't weak. You ain't ever been..."
He slumped over.
Catche thinks my squirrel is Fisk so here's my daily reminder that he is not.
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Catche Jagger
- Posts: 743
- Joined: Tue May 28, 2019 7:40 pm
- Team Affiliation: Ben's Crabs
As the fighting had continued, Alan had made a point of pulling himself and his bag towards the wall, clutching his right hand close to his chest and getting some distance from Crispin and Ray.
Ray’s Gift had eaten away at his glove and fingers, leaving them bloody and delivering a searing pain which travelled up his arm. Propping himself against the wall ripping off the tattered remains if the glove, and pulling out the medpack, Alan pulled out some gauze and bandages, attempting to crudely wrap his hand and put pressure on the wounds.
While he worked as best he could with one hand, the fighting finally seemed to stop and Alan’s gaze shot up while he attempted to stand up properly.
The gamble had paid off, of course, and Alan saw Crispin standing alone, what remained of Ray left bubbling on the ground. Alan’s back loosened a bit and he found he breathed a bit more freely at the sight. They fucking won.
It had been the outcome Alan had bet on, so he wasn’t altogether surprised at how things turned out. He was a bit surprised, however, at what Crispin said afterward. Neither of them were really in a state for “I told you so” but at least Crispin didn’t seem to expect betrayal anymore.
“Fucking shit, man.” Alan groaned, carefully making his way towards Crispin’s prone form, trying not to step in too much Ray on his way over. Alan felt like he was going to be sick. Both him and Crispin would need to patch up their injuries to make sure they’d see the next day, but Alan was dead set against doing that here.
With a grunt, Alan took hold of Crispin’s arm and began to pull.
“Come the fuck on…”
((Alan Melnyk and Crispin-Kelley Cuyler continued elsewhere…))
Ray’s Gift had eaten away at his glove and fingers, leaving them bloody and delivering a searing pain which travelled up his arm. Propping himself against the wall ripping off the tattered remains if the glove, and pulling out the medpack, Alan pulled out some gauze and bandages, attempting to crudely wrap his hand and put pressure on the wounds.
While he worked as best he could with one hand, the fighting finally seemed to stop and Alan’s gaze shot up while he attempted to stand up properly.
The gamble had paid off, of course, and Alan saw Crispin standing alone, what remained of Ray left bubbling on the ground. Alan’s back loosened a bit and he found he breathed a bit more freely at the sight. They fucking won.
It had been the outcome Alan had bet on, so he wasn’t altogether surprised at how things turned out. He was a bit surprised, however, at what Crispin said afterward. Neither of them were really in a state for “I told you so” but at least Crispin didn’t seem to expect betrayal anymore.
“Fucking shit, man.” Alan groaned, carefully making his way towards Crispin’s prone form, trying not to step in too much Ray on his way over. Alan felt like he was going to be sick. Both him and Crispin would need to patch up their injuries to make sure they’d see the next day, but Alan was dead set against doing that here.
With a grunt, Alan took hold of Crispin’s arm and began to pull.
“Come the fuck on…”
((Alan Melnyk and Crispin-Kelley Cuyler continued elsewhere…))