CLOCKWORK ORANGE // open + torture

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    "Hey, handsome, get up. Less sleeping, more playing!"
    Deathstroke called out as he laid upon the top of a pile of rubble, his single eye watching his latest catch from his high throne. The assassin let a sinister grin curl its way onto his lips whilst his long tail swayed about behind him. No cages this time, he had instead opted to dump the ShadowClan down in the middle of the room. He felt that this might offer more of a challenge and a chance to really work those muscles. He had to stay in shape somehow.
    "Do you know where you are?"

    Torch dragged open his one good eye, shaking his head slightly to rid it of sleep. Nope, that wasn't sleep. Hell, it hurt - really hurt. He'd been hit over the head, he guessed. The first thing he smelled was an unfamiliar scent, but for some strange reason, he matched the Cartel to it. A small wave of panic spread through the kelpie, and he began to take in the scenery outside of the barred window.


    Colossal ruins towered outside, and - for once - he felt rather small and insignificant. Casting his eyes back, he could see that he was in a medium sized room... and it was quite dark. There was someone stood before him, Torch could see the swinging of the tail. As the figure spoke up, Torch realised it was a male.


    Trying to play down his growing apprehension, Torch took the sarcastic approach, and shrugged. "I guess this is hell, huh? I mean, I thought there'd be more fire but... I guess lookin' at you is hell itself."

    Braelynn Cipher

    Why do you cry and shake with fear...

    Geez, this guy really seemed to capture a lot of people. Braelynn stepped forward, casting a critical glance at the scene. It certainly seemed like everybody he captured suddenly had a sassy bone in their body. They stood tall, strong, and acted like nothing was wrong. He'd never seen somebody come here actually frightened. Had she just missed those people? Strange. Strange indeed. "You're on a roll, mister," the pup said, as she took a seat a bit away to watch the torture.

    ...I've only had the best dub me insane.




    DEATHSTROKE


    "Ooo... that totally hurt my feelings. Ha!"
    Deathstroke chuckled as he moved to climb down from where he had been resting, now advancing towards his captive. Glancing at Braelynn he cast her a smug smirk.
    "Aye, it sure seems that way, heh! Righty-o then, down to business."
    A sadistic gleam entered his eye before he teleported behind Torchwood, where he attempted to rake his claws down his victim's back. He wished to start out slow, though he had much more planned for this guy.


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    { I'M BIGGER THAN MY BODY ━ I'M COLDER THAN THIS HOME }


    deathstroke's at it again, huh? sometimes faye wonders if he does it because he gets some sort of kick out of hurting others, or if he does it for the money. probably a mixture of both, now that she thinks about it. wheeling herself up to braelynn, she quirks her ears up and watches the display with mild interest.

    i'm meaner than my demons && 1/29

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    Hell, he wasn't sure what the Shadowclanner was suggesting about their captor's appearance but in Faust's humble opinion, Deathstroke looked finer than a cruise in a gondola. But then again, the liger was quite tolerant about most things, so he may as well be blind. Padding up to the curious scene, the pale wildcat would stop himself next to the two other spectators to see what kind of smart mouth this one had on them. It was a real bad idea to talk since it usually made torture or whatever ensued worse than usual but Faust wasn't about to start coaching a prisoner. That would be really weird.


    "Hmm, hey!" The seated hybrid would call from his seat, addressing the torturer, "I have a request, please. Can you shave them? I'm learning how to do needle felting but I haven't got any wool." To be honest, he actually wasn't trying to learn the craft, he just thought it would be funny to see the kelpie missing some hair. But who knows? Faust was crazy enough to pick up the hobby.
    -
    [center]JUST LIKE I DID WITH ADDICTION I'M 'BOUT TO KICK IT

    SAY FUCK IT BEFORE WE KICK THE BUCKET | 1/17/17

    Torchwood winked at Braelynn, before rolling his eyes slightly at Deathstroke's comment. Yep, the sarcastic attitude wasn't working. They could see straight through it. Part of him admired their experience, but then he realised that he was in a particularly bad situation. If he had been watching, it would have been a different conversation. Hell, he'd probably have been joining in. An enemy of his clan was an enemy of his. He'd learned that already.


    As Deathstroke teleported behind him, raking his claws into Torch's back, the kelpie gasped in pain. He squirmed slightly, reeling around and biting out at Deathstroke. He recoiled afterwards, growling at Faust. His eyepatch had become dislodged, but his arms were too cut for him to react to it.




    DEATHSTROKE


    "Yeah, I'll shave the poor bastard fer ya, but you're on your own for gathering up the hair. Equine hair is a right bugger to collect."
    Deathstroke knew that from personal experience, damned stuff got everywhere. Returning his full attention to his victim he then let his grin grow even further as his amusement grew over the grim scene. The hellhound would leap back when the kelpie snapped in defiance though the actions only got his blood pumping with greater excitement.


    Launching forward again he aimed to collide his form into the kelpie's flanks with the intentions of toppling the beast. Then conjuring his sword he attempted to give the poor guy a good and thorough shaving.


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    "Thank you~," the liger would dip his head in a gracious manner before coming a little bit closer to begin harvesting the fallen hairs. It was true, hair in general was annoying to collect but that's fine, he'll give 110% into it. Faust would begin to hum a slight tune as he brushed the dark hairs into piles. Man, would he do anything for a broom right now.
    -
    [center]JUST LIKE I DID WITH ADDICTION I'M 'BOUT TO KICK IT

    SAY FUCK IT BEFORE WE KICK THE BUCKET | 1/17/17




    DEATHSTROKE


    Deathstroke simply rode out the attacks, the pain beginning to excite him further. Rolling laughter escaped the hellhound as he moved to try and sink his teeth in Torchwood's cheek, his intention set on ripping a chunk of flesh from his victim's face.


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    Torch yelled out in pain as a chunk of his flesh detached itself from his face. He recoiled, dipping to the earth as tears left his eyes. This really hurt. Where the hell were his clan? He stood back up, tasting the blood that was pouring into his mouth. This wouldn't kill him, and that hurt him a lot more than his wounds did.




    DEATHSTROKE


    The hellhound briefly backed off before he began to circle around his captive.
    "Look at you, fucking pathetic! Not sure what name you had before you came here but from today onwards you're going by a new name. Your new name is Scrub."
    Deathstroke would then come to stop directly in front of his victim, kneeling down until he was at equal eye level.
    "What's your name?"
    Time to test the guy's obedience.


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    What's your name?

    "Torchwood."


    Hell nah. He wasn't going to give in that easy, even with the blood flowing into his mouth and choking him. The tears still ran down his face, but the kelpie really didn't care what they were doing. As long as he still fought, he was going to be fine.




    DEATHSTROKE


    "That isn't your name. Guess I'll just have to teach you it."
    Deathstroke would begin to move behind his victim before conjuring up a whip. Lashing out with the whip he aimed to bring it down upon the kelpie's back with a savage crack like thunder.
    "What is your name?!"


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    The black dog winced as the whip flew through the air, crying out slightly as it sliced his back. Agh, man it hurt. He bit the remained of the inside of his mouth, spitting out more gathering blood. Again, the same question. This time, Torch kept silent, his eyes welling up whenever the wound throbbed. Which was a lot.

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    I WAS NAMED SUGARPLUM



    "Y-Yo! You back off from him and pick on someone y-your own size, twit!" Oh god, oh god, oh god. Laurel did her best to stop her trembling as she made her move, bounding over to Torch and standing in front of him. The pastel blue feline was going to fucking die, she just knew it. Still, Torch had been nice to her on his first day, and she would defend him. He was a part of BloodClan now, and he was her clanmate.


    (c)trexgirl


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    ———— free from my chains | updated 2/12




    DEATHSTROKE


    "Tch! Don't you resort to the silent game. That will earn you no favours here."
    Deathstroke readied to swing the whip but stopped when Sugarplum stepped in between him and Torchwood. The assassin narrowed his eye at her, his bemusement radiating in waves from his form.
    "Stand aside, otherwise I'll make you into my new chew toy instead. Though if he just accepts his new name then the pain might just stop, might even save you from my wrath as well."
    The hellhound snarled as he looked between the two of them.


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    I WAS NAMED SUGARPLUM



    "F-F-Fuck off!" She snarled, fur standing on edge. Anxiety was yelling at her to go, to leave Torch and save her own hide, but she was no coward. Not right now, she wasn't. "I'll get the whole of Blo-BloodClan to come here, and you'll be-be sorry!" She couldn't do that. She didn't have the crazy powers everyone else had in this world.


    (c)trexgirl


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    ———— free from my chains | updated 2/12




    DEATHSTROKE


    "Then be my guest, because I'll fight them like what I've always done. Saves me the bother of picking them off one by one too."
    Deathstroke responded confidently as he moved towards her, then with a large paw he aimed to shove her away forcefully. He really didn't have the patience for this.


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