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Aberrant: 2011 - Pay-Per-View [Mature] [Complete]


z-Kara

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April 12, 2009

This fiction may contain scenes of extreme sex and violence and possibly both together. You have been warned.

Kara stretched slowly on the floor, flowing into the next yoga position. She'd started the exercising several years ago to keep limber and get some physical exercise. It was even something she could do between takes, and she found it relaxing too.

She needed relaxing at the moment. It had been a good night, but she felt restless. She knew what it was. She needed another good lay. It had been hours since Vector had left, but before that, she'd had few sexual encounters for her own pleasure. All had been business-related. And then all those sightings of Gabe Law, both on the news and in person, hadn't helped her libido. She was surprised that she'd lasted this long, and that she hadn't hurt Vector.

Bellator. The name slipped into her head like bare skin across silk. He could teleport. He'd be here, within moments, if she called him. And he'd probably be willing.

"Hmm, to call or not to call?" She rubbed the delicate material of her white silk pants, or rather of her eufiber shaped as white silk pants. The light silk t-shirt of the same color clung wettly to her upper body as she flipped her hair over her shoulder and thought.

Kara rolled to her feet and walked to her bag, pulling out her cell phone. She held it in her hand, considering what this would mean. Would he want more? Would he expect that we'd be an item? Would he be able to stick to just sex?

"This would be complicated," Kara sighed, shaking her head. But she didn't put the phone away. She held it, biting her lip as her libido and logic argued back and forth.

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"I wouldn't worry about it." The voice came out of thin air as her phone jerked itself out of her hand and went sailing into the wall with a ringing crunch, the shock-proof casing she'd picked out proving its worth by leaving a dent in the wall without a scratch on the phone. At the moment, however, that was the least of her worries. A sudden tightness filled her throat, as though someone had crammed two fingers into her airway from the inside; she gagged like a porn star on her first blow job, lungs heaving desperately for air, a scream of shock cut down to a gurgle in her blocked throat.

Then it got worse.

The girl faded out of the air like something from a ghost story, her emerald eyes burning like cut gems behind the half-veil of her long red hair, and the smile on her lips would have shamed a demon from the pits. “Hello, Kara. It's such a pleasure to meet someone famous.” Kara jumped backwards. It did no good; she dragged the 'ghost' with her until her thighs hit the back of her couch. With a gurgle, Kara tumbled over the back and rolled onto the floor, the girl's body passing over and through hers as though she weren't even there, and the girlish laughter she could hear over the growing roar in her ears was almost playful. “Oh, very good! I was hoping you'd be a fighter. It's so much more fun that way.” The fingers in her throat twisted painfully as the girl slid back through her, passing straight through her until those glittering eyes were bare inches from her own. “Don't worry, honey, I'll show you a time to remember for the rest of your life. Trust me.” Her lips peeled back over her teeth like a wolf baring its fangs. “I'm very, very good at what I do. Just like you.”

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Kara had no fighting skills; it was something that Colin had agreed to arrange for her to learn, but they hadn't gotten around to it. And now Kara was paying for that leisurely progress, maybe with her life.

No! I'm not helpless! Kara screamed in her own mind; she certainly couldn't have said it aloud at any volume. She wasted a few precious moments trying to slip her skin, but the burning pressure in her throat didn't let her gather her concentration enough to make the change. Her fingers curled into claws and tried for Cyn's eyes, stabbing through the air without effect.

The panic button. Rashard had insisted that she carry a panic button at all times. Flipping the switch would alert Rashard and their security agency. But it was in her purse, across the room.

Kara crawled across the floor, dragging Cyn like a gross, weightless growth, a pale conjoined twin ghost. Bitch will have to materialize to stop me, and I'll smack her sterile if she does, Kara pep-talked herself on her crawl, ignoring the grey border in her vision. Despite that growing, creep prediction of defeat, Kara knew she could make it to the switch.

"What are you up to?" Cyn asked as Kara dragged herself to the table and began to reach for her purse as the grey started to go white. Or maybe black. Everything was pain and desperation; her body was starting to sieze. But her finger was almost to the right pocket when her brain slowly finished working through to the final ramifications. If the security guards showed up, if Rashard came running, they'd meet Cyn. And she'd kill them all, because they couldn't stop her. Maybe she wouldn't get them all right now. But if Cyn was coming after her for no reason, then she'd happily go after all of them later just because they'd tried to interfere.

Kara knew that she was dead. She thought of Rashard's stern brown eyes, how he frowned at her with exasperation, and she knew that she couldn't call him to his death. Her fingers dropped as she rolled to the floor, starting to shake uncontrollably. Cyn hovered in her vision like an evil spectre and Kara did the last act she had left.

It took all her remaining strength and concentration, but she managed to get both arms in the air and extend them shakily toward Cyn. The red-head watched with amusement as Kara's hands clenched into fists with the backs pointed at the serial killer. Then Kara extended her middle fingers and mouthed the words that matched that gesture, even as consciousness and defiance faded from her eyes.

Her last coherent thought was, I should have fucked Gabe Law when I had the chance.

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The room was too bright for sleeping, and Kara blinked, trying to remember how she got here. Was this a film? Was she supposed to be filming? She didn't remember her lines, and panic flooded her.

The lights were almost burning in their intensity, and Kara lifted her head, squinting. Just beyond the lights, she saw the merciless eyes of the cameras. They hadn't bothered her for years, but now they did. Kara moved an arm, only to have it jerk to a stop with a hiss of leather and rattle of chain. "Oh, god," she whimpered; her voice was too loud and she bit back the rest of her moan. But it was now a rhythm in her head, constant and on-going, "Not again. Not again. Not again. Notagain. Notagain. Notagain. Notagain. Notagain!Notagain!Notagain!Notagain!"

Shut up! Calm down!

Cyn. You're not alone, she's here. She has to be.

Uhless she's going to leave you here.

What's the fun in that?

That's why she's taping it.

Good. Tapes. I'll have to destroy them all, once I shift.

Satin whispered across her legs as she looked around, and Kara finally saw herself. A dark ivory satin dress fit perfectly to her body; despite the fact that it covered her from neck to ankle, it provided no reassurance. That lack of assurance probably came from the fact that her legs were chained into the spread eagle position. "Yeah, this is good."

Was... was that a giggle?

Don't panic.

She's here, somewhere.

Why aren't I dead?

Probably because she has something worse in mind.

Charming, Kara. And so helpful.

She likes defiance.

"You sound like a Sugarplum Fairy," Kara called out. "Why don't you show yourself?" And become solid while you at it, so that I can show you what big teeth I have.

,,
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Now where's the fun in that?” The voice purred from the air somewhere behind her, soft and breathy and almost sensual; it was a girl's voice, too young to be sultry, but there was a hint of razors under its sweetness. “We're all just now getting to know each other, after all, and I wouldn't want to block a camera. Say hello to your public, honey. I'm sure they've missed you.”

The merciless gaze of the cameras bored into her with all the malice of Cyn's voice as it echoed back from the bare metal walls, acoustics as perfect as a well-closed shower. “I wouldn't put too much effort into struggling with those chains, by the way... they're really only there for artistic effect. We're buried in the arms of the earth, honey, nothing but thick steel and stone between us and the world. So you play along with me, we'll have ourselves a great time.” A low, wicked giggle flicked over Kara's back like the bite of a lash, leaving no room to doubt just how 'great' a time she was likely to have, and she caught a whiff of vanilla scent in the air as the giggle dropped to a barely audible whisper in her ear. “Hurt me, scare me, don't play along for the cameras... I leave you down here to rot. Bet you'll get real hungry, real fast, won't you?” Cyn's laughter crawled down her spine and sank icy claws into her stomach as it echoed around the room, nowhere and everywhere at once. “So are you going to be a good girl and play, Caramel?”

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Is she lying? Oh, god, she's lying. What if she's not? So what? She's going to kill you.

"What happens if I play along?" Kara asked, an involuntary reaction, hope making her play Cyn's game.

"Then I'm going to hurt you." The words were almost seductive, the same way dozens of women and men had said they planned to fuck her over the years. "I'm going to hurt you until you forget anything but the pain ever existed. But then, I'll make sure you live. If you're a good girl and keep me entertained, of course."

So she could submit, suffer and maybe die, or she could fight and definitely die. Decisions, decisions. At least by playing along, she'd have a chance. A long, drawn-out painful chance.

It reminded her of a book she'd read once, where the progatanist had been able to funnel pain into pleasure. She'd been a submissive prostitute because of her 'gift.' The underlying theme of the book had been, Not all that submits is weak. Live to fight another day. I am the Captain of my soul.

Kara wondered if she had enough of these little inspirationals to get her through this.

"Fine," Kara growled, her golden eyes searching the darkness beyond the lights for her attacker. "Let's get this done, since this is the only way you can get off. Unless your daddy's diddlin' you, that is. Then you come like a Bangkok whore."

But if I get my chance, bitch... If I get a shot, I'll crush your skull, just like Ramm's. You both psycho killers, and it's you I'm betraying myself to stop. So I'll play your game, and eat your heart and smile doing it.

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“Tough for my daddy to do that from under twenty feet of slate, where I left him.” Cyn melted into view an inch from Kara's face, lips parted in a girlish little smile like they were gossiping about boys in a schoolyard. “No reason to rush, sweets... I've got all the time in the world.” Her feet swirled soundlessly over the thin carpet on the floor as she slid her way along Kara's side, pulling a slender knife with a glitteringly sharp edge from a pocket of her trenchcoat and passing it slowly in front of Kara's eyes. “Surely a girl with your... experience understands about foreplay?”

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"Blah, blah, blah," Kara grumbled, making gabbing motions with one hand. "God! Just fucking get on with it, will you? I do know something about foreplay and you're going to bore the audience to death at this rate. A blind midget could direct better than you. I guess Daddy shouldn't have spent so much time drilling your ass and more educating you."

Kara was aware that this was dangerous. It could make things worse, but Cyn knew she was a fighter. And Cyn wanted her to entertain her. So Kara would do her best; put up a good fight and a brave front for as long as she could. Pretend it's a movie. That will work until she cuts you.

... cuts me...

Kara cut off her mental whimpering and met Cyn's poisonous green glare with her golden, rebellious gaze.

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Cyn's smile only spread, and she purred softly in the base of her throat as she savored the defiance on Kara's face. "A fighter. Good. That will make this... enjoyable." Her hand whipped out, quick as a whip, the knife passing intangibly through both of Kara's cheeks... and then it snapped down, suddenly solid, and cut a long narrow slice open along her ribs that peeled the silk gown away from her flesh like wrapping from an open chocolate. "Smile for the cameras, darling..."

The cuts came slow, quick, deep, light, Cyn working across her like a painter at his canvas; the blade flickered in and out of tangibility without any pattern she could anticipate, bursts of pain mingled with the cool shudder of the knife's delicate molecular shadow passing through flesh and bone and nerve. Lines of blood, thick and thin, trailed down her body and soaked through the ravaged silk, wreathing her in strands of white and red fabric hanging from her ravaged flesh. It didn't matter if she writhed or froze herself still, cried out or was silent; Cyn's eyes never left her body, the intricate tapestry of wounds she was weaving spread and spread, and the cold flat stare of the cameras peeled every scrap of pain from her body and sent it streaming out into the world.

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Kara screamed when she had to, and was quiet when she could be. The quantum coursing through her body was used sparingly, to heal the worst of the cuts, the ones that didn't hurt immediately and then stung with a stabbing fire. The pale table slowly darkened with her blood, as her amazing power reknit her body and created more and more blood. Before too long, she'd bled enough for three people, and still her skin was warm with the color of the life. "Getting tired yet?" Kara hissed weakly. Fuck. I know I am. Let this end soon, please.

Her fingers curled around the chains holding her, and she waited for Cyn to tire of her game. She had been scared, now she was just tired. If she hadn't been in so much pain, she would have been bored.

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“Not fucking likely.” Cyn gave her a wild, wicked grin that sizzled with heat, flicking the knife clean of blood and dropping it back into her pocket. Still grinning, she walked to the edge of the lights and returned with a bucket dangling from one hand. “Do have a question for you, though. Ever gotten lemon juice in a cut before?” She hefted the bucket, bared her teeth in a cruel little smile that would have done an inquisitor proud, tossed it over Kara like something out of a car wash porn shoot. “High grade lemon concentrate, with a bit of salt dissolved. Thank the local store.”

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Fucking nova stamina, Kara sighed in reaction to Cyn's answer, rolling her eyes. "'Not fucking likely'? Go back to school, girl; you need better lines."

Cyn ignored her as she gathered up a bucket, which Kara eyed apprehensively. “Do have a question for you, though," Cyn said with malicious psuedo-curiousity. "Ever gotten lemon juice in a cut before?”

Kara had just enough time to grip the chains, turn her head and take a deep gulp of air. The last was entirely instinctive as the yellowish liquid splashed over her body. Cyn's description of the torturious materials was lost as Kara screamed. It didn't hurt so much as sting, a deep pain that sizzled over her nerves and up and down her spine. The overloaded nerves that had been dulled to the pain of the knife flared to life with a new agony. Kara stopped screaming, but that was only so she could begin to curse. She launched into a non-stop barrage of profanity in English and Creole, drawing out every dirty word she could remember.

Finally, the stinging subsided and Kara's aching muscles relaxed with exhaustion. "That... was... fun," Kara gasped hoarsely. "Bring... on... the... wet noodles."

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"Fuck, honey, and you're lecturing me about better lines?" Leaning down, Cyn picked up a long metal pole and flicked a switch at the base lightly. "Saw a couple of your films. You've played with violet wands before, I'm sure?" When Kara didn't answer, Cyn's smile only widened. "Well, this is what you might call an improved version."

She brought the tip of the pole against Kara's soaked skin firmly, the salt-laden lemon juice making a natural conductor for the high voltage current, and Kara's world dissolved in sizzling, shuddering pain.

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Kara probably passed out. She was really sure that she had; after all, she couldn't imagine that Cyn had only shocked her for a few moments. Her body was painfully tight; occassionally, a muscle spasmed violently. Kara coughed and choked, drew in air and said, "Fine... you... win. Your lines... are better... even though... I'm the one chained up and being tortured!" The last was screamed in a rush, with Kara jerking against her restraints.

Finally, she sank back against the table, staring at the ceiling. Dark holes caught her eyes, and Kara felt hope stir. She could get out of here, though those, maybe. It looked like the cords for the cameras went through them too, but there might be room for a kitten. Kara swallowed. She'd never tried something that small. And if it didn't work, she'd be stuck here, to die.

Hope is a hard thing to deny. Kara prepared herself to slip her skin and got ready for Cyn to materialize within biting range.

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Cyn flicked the knife back out of her pocket, contemplating the blade for a moment with a sensual little purr. “I thought you'd be used to being the center of attention by now, Caramel-honey. And you really should have realized by now... I always win.” She let her hand and the knife go solid, drawing a thin line of blood across Kara's belly and watching it trickle down the flat curve of her stomach. “Think you can grow your guts back into place if they're hanging down around your knees? I'd really love to find out...”

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The change happened so fast. One moment Cyn was gloating, having fun, then the panther was twisting out of the bonds. Like all big cats, it was glorious - power and speed made flesh. But this was all the more frightening for the sense of quantum power pouring from the beast. Familiar yellow eyes glittered with intelligent anger and vindictiveness as the panther lunged toward Cyn. Before the psychopathic red-head could react, the flashing white fangs closed on her arm.

Cyn went insubstanial and pulled her arm loose of the slavering maw, and the great cat screamed in frustration. Cyn's arm was bleeding, but the wound didn't hurt - at first. Cold disbelief filled her as she realized that she'd been hurt. She, Cyn, had been hurt! And by one of her marks! She was supposed to hurt them, not the other way around.

She looked back at the cat, but she was not the same. Her body had swollen and gotten heavier, while the teeth were longer than one of Cyn's delicate hands. A low rumble came from the thick black-furred chest as Kara growled. A midnight black saber tooth tiger stood on the top of the table, bleeding but free of the chains. "I think that round goes to me," the cat rumbled in an animalistic, unholy voice that was somehow Caramel's too.

With a roar that man hadn't heard in millenia, the massive cat leapt for Cyn.

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It was entirely possible that Cyn's rational mind would have stood its ground in the face of that charge, secure in the knowledge that those massive teeth and claws would pass right through her. Bleeding freely through the long tears in her trenchcoat and facing down a creature straight out the Lost World, Cyn was anything but rational; all she wanted was to be away from that thing, and in span of a heartbeat it took the massive predator to reach her she dropped through the floor as though the Earth itself had swallowed her.

A few moments later she scrambled up out of the earth into the abandoned warehouse someone had built over the bank vault she'd appropriated, gasping for air and clutching her arm. That bitch, that fucking little bitch, I'll kill her I'll fucking kill her for this and fuck what that girl on the Opnet said! She hurt me, the fucking shapechanging cunt actually hurt me! I'll leave her down there to fucking rot for this!

It was not, she had to confess after a moment, a terribly severe set of cuts. She'd phased out instinctively at the first jolt of pain, limited the damage to that first impact of teeth in her skin, and the leather of her coat had taken the brunt of it. Which didn't change the fact that thin red rivulets of her blood were trickling down over her fingers and the torn flesh of her arm was burning with pain. Cursing savagely, she glared down at the floor and the woman below for a long moment before stalking out through one of the stained walls of the warehouse. You can just wait while I get this fucking seen to, you bitch. Then, if you're lucky and the docs put me on something good, maybe I'll come back. Of maybe I'll just let you fucking starve down there.

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The saber toothed Kara caught only empty air as Cyn disappeared through the floor. Her absence didn't stop Kara's leap, and the great cat slammed into the ring of cameras and lights. Rage filled Kara as she realized that she hadn't been fast enough or tough enough to stop Cyn.

There was only one thing left to take the brunt of her rage. With another angry roar, Kara's massive black paw slammed into one of the standing cameras, sending it spinning across the room into one of the lights. Before her rage was spent, Kara stood alone in a room of damaged equipment.

The massive black cat's head dropped as Kara gulped in air, trying to calm down. She stood there for a long moment, surrounded by the shattered remains of film equiment and lights. Have to calm down, she panted. Have to regain control. When she was calm again, Kara lifted her head and gazed upward. "Time to leave," she rumbled.

A graceful leap put her on top of the table again; another one put her airborne while Kara shifted again. Her massive body collapsed on itself into a small, house cat's frame with a full set of wings. Fur and feathers were a mottled golden color, like an iridescent tabby cat. Kara fluttered up the holes, her golden eyes eager.

That eagerness faded when she saw that the 'holes' high above the floor were actually grates, with the camera wires passed through the openings in the metal. Kara's heart sank as she stared at those dark blockages. No... don't give up.

Kara hooked her claws in the wires, getting a good grip on them as her wings folded against her back. When she was sure she had a solid grasp, she shifted back to saber toothed tiger, the form with the most strength. Unfortunately, it also had the most weight, and the claws ripped through the wiring, tumbling Kara to the floor. Despite having some of the gifts of the cat, she didn't have its perfect balance, and she landed on her back on the floor. For a moment, she just lay there moaning; then her healing kicked in again.

Kara climbed to her feet and shook her head, feeling the bone-deep weariness that meant her quantum reserves were low. She shoved away that worry and began to search the room. If she couldn't get out through the ceiling, maybe something else would come up to let her out. She took her first good look at the room in the crazy, angling glow of the few working lights left.

Rows of small hinged doors lined the wall, each with two keyholes and a unique number. "It's a bank vault," she muttered, fighting off another shiver of depression. "Then it has a door." A glance around the room located, the 'door,' was a wall of concrete blocks. Someone had sealed this place up well.

"That's it. I'm trapped," Kara said, sitting on her haunches. Fear, pain and regret roared through her, and the nova wondered if striking out at Cyn had been the right thing. I had to try.

The words were no comfort in the darkness of the vault.

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By the time an hour had gone by, Cyn's panicked fury had cooled to an icy rage that pulsed under her skin like the pound of her heart against her ribs. A little intimidation at the local hospital and a few stitches had set her arm right, but the tingle of pain was a jagged reminded that this bitch had hurt her, had dared to hurt her; she spared a moment of silent fury for the woman who had set her on this bitch and failed to warn her the cunt could shapeshift, but it paled beside the icy certainty coiled in her belly. Ruin her face? I'll do more than fucking ruin her face, my little anonymous songbird, I'll fucking cut her to ribbons!

She flicked out the knife from under her coat, snapping it open and staring at the double-edged sharpness of it for a moment as she ground her teeth around her fury, and then took a deep breath and dropped soundlessly and invisibly through the floor of the warehouse toward the bank vault below. Ready or not, bitch, here I come.

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Resting had helped, for all that the extra bit of power could help her. The only thought she had was to tear out more wires and try yelling out the grates for help. Though it would make no sense for Cyn to do this near a populated area. Though, she can't exactly choose this place for its convienence, right? Screw - it's my last option.

The whisper of sound, more of a suggestion of being watched than anything else, but Kara lifted her head. She'd cleared away the debris from a corner of the room, and sat with her back to the wall. It didn't matter with Cyn, but Kara couldn't - wouldn't stop trying to maximize her slim chances. She'd shifted out of her cat form a while ago, so that she could completely relax. The dress was long gone, shredded first by Cyn and then decimated by her shifting. Its absence left Kara sitting naked against the wall, but her options in dress were not large.

Quiet and naked, searching the room for anything, Kara waited for either Cyn or Death. She was all too aware that the former could very well invite the latter.

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The first blow came from behind her, of all places, a kick to the back of the head that knocked her sprawling face-down across the floor, and then a long hot searing agony across both her legs as Cyn sliced the knife through the backs of her knees; she felt the girl's weight on her back a moment, nearly fully solid, as the knife slashed down on her forearms, cutting deep; then the weight was gone again into the silence of the room, only the heavy hiss of someone's breathing intruding on the purity of Kara's pain.

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"That wasn't very creative," Kara muttered, feeling some of her precious energy going to heal up the new wounds. This is getting old. What I wouldn't give for a grenade. Or a Vector or a Bellator. Both would be as effect as a 'go-boom' thing, I think. "I mean, though the wall? Sister, every other desolid chick before you has done that same god-damned trick.

"Oh, by the way... how's the arm, Cyn? A little tight, maybe?"

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"Much better, bitch." A boot slammed into her side, the kick throwing her up against the wall hard, Cyn's invisible blows seeming to rain in on her from all directions as she tumbled back to the floor. "And frankly, I could give a shit about creative. You shouldn't ... have... cut... me!" She punctuated each of the last three words with a brutal kick to Kara's ribs, the sheer savagery of the beating a shock after the restrained artistry of her earlier tortures.

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"I could say the same about you," Kara snarled, curling her arms around her head as she tried to protect it from the rain of blows landing on her. "And I didn't cut you, gutter-slut, I bit you! Get it right!"

Kara managed to get her back to the wall and grabbed a pole that had been holding a light aloft at the beginning of the day. She held it in front of her like a weapon, holding it would provide some defense. "So did your eruption make you this crazy? Or were you born this FUBAR?"

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Cyn answered by slamming her heel down on Kara's wrist with a sickening crunch, twisting on the toe of her boot to drive her knee into the other girl's face with enough force to bounce her head off the wall like a pool ball; it wasn't pretty, or elegant, or even all that smart, but Cyn was well past caring about any of those. She wanted to kick this bitch's head in, and every bit of enhanced strength, speed and skill her eruption had granted her was focused on that single goal with the savage intensity of a wolf taking down a kill.

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Kara was not done fighting. Her pretty face twisted into an ugly snarl as she lunged for Cyn. She passed through most of the psychopath, but she managed to grab a leg. Cyn phased out almost immediately, but Kara managed to trip her up and make her stumble. Kara began to snarl and attack with an inhuman intensity, the stress and pain she was enduring driving her into a state of mind she'd never known before.

Cyn pressed the attack, but Kara was just as fierce. The dark-skinned nova did less damage, but she was fighting for her life in a dark and scary place. "Come on!" Kara shouted. "You want me? Get solid and come get me!"

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A newly solid hand slammed into Kara's throat, bruising her windpipe, and Cyn's voice hissed in her ear, thick with rage and hate, as a knife blade scored down her spine. “Getting a little desperate, aren't you, honey? Hoping I'm gonna play the stupid villain and let my ego run away with me?” She dropped the knife and grabbed Kara's head with both hands, twisting savagely, straining the vertebrae and choking her battered throat. “One more move and I snap your fucking neck and to hell with promising otherwise.”

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It was a nightmare, over and over again: feint, attack, feint, attack again. And all along, Kara knew it wasn't enough anymore. She was losing, piece by piece, bruise by scratch. And then Cyn provided a clue.

Kara went still as the words sunk into her head. "Promise? What did you promise, you sniveling thunder-cunt?" Her fingers reached up and grabbed Cyn's hands, her nails digging into the other woman's materialized flesh.

"Though frankly, I don't care what you promised, moron," Kara added angrily. "If you think I'll just lay down and let you kill me, you're in for a shock, you sperm-gargling psycho-whore." She shouldn't provoke the crazy woman, but Kara was desperate. Something had to give, and soon.

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"Well, I did promise I wasn't going to kill you. Until you fucking bit me." Cyn's voice hissed out between gritted teeth, and her hands twisted savagely up and back as her knee slammed Kara's torso forward. "Heal this, bitch."

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Someone had once told Kara that sound producers twist stalks of celery to simulate the sound of a neck snapping. It may sound that way in a movie, but inside your own head it was a wetter, nerve-grating noise.

It hurt for about a second, then the pain faded as nerves realized they were severed. Kara gasped to cry, to scream, to do anything - and couldn't. Immediately she felt like she was choking, and Kara pouring healing into her neck. She could hear Cyn moving around her helpless form, and Kara began to frantically move, wiggle, anything. Her finger was in view, and Kara tried to move it. Wiggle your finger. Wiggle it! Do it! Do anything!

Air rushed into her lungs as pain rolled through her body. Her nerves were slowly healing, but as Cyn moved back to stand over her helpless form, Kara wondered if that was a good thing.

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Cyn's lips peeled back in a vicious smile as she picked up the knife from the floor and straddled Kara's torso, eyes burning with a fury that Hell itself would have quailed from. “Now, then. Let's see about making you into proper art.” She lowered the knife slowly to Kara's cheek, razor edge parting the skin and drawing a thin line of blood beneath it, and her voice was almost a caress. “Enjoy yourself, lover. You'll remember this the rest of your life.”

Then she leaned her weight into the blade, and the pain began. It went on for what seemed forever, punctuated only by Kara's gurgled screams and Cyn's laughter.

And then there was nothing at all.

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Dexter Harris was worried sick, literally. He'd never known that worry could become a beast living in his belly, hollowing him out and leaving him with nothing but the sick taste of vomit on the back of his tongue. He shouldn't thrown up; he hadn't eaten anything today, not since Rashard had called to tell him that Kara was missing.

Dexter loved his cousin, and not just because she'd gotten him a wonderful job. No, he'd loved her when they were kids, because she'd been willing to hang out with him. He'd always been small and weak physically, and the other boys in the family had made fun of him. The girls hadn't wanted to play with an 'icky boy' and soon Kara had been the only one with an ounce of respect for him.

"It's a nova," Rashard said thickly.

Dexter looked at him questioningly. "What's a nova?" They'd been looking for her all day. The path had lead them here, to this mall. A security guard trailed behind them, clearly suspicious despite Rashard's credentials.

"The one who took Kara."

"How... how do you know that?" Dexter asked, as a terrible fear gripped him. Baselines were bad enough, but a nova could really hurt his cousin. For a second, he saw her as he'd seen her last; casually waving good-bye from her couch as he'd left her house.

"Because her cell phone is inside this concrete pillar," Rashard answered, holding up the tracking device that was following the locator in Kara's cell phone. Rashard pulled out his own phone and began to dial. "Now I'm sure something's wrong. I'm calling the cops."

Dexter's eyes caught a flash of blue, and he bent behind a trash can, grabbing at it. It was silky and soft under his fingers, and Dexter blinked at the shirt and pants he held. Rashard's face hardened further as he started to talk into the phone.

Something fell from above, and Dexter cowered as it slammed into the ground behind him. "Shit!" he yelped, spinning as he heard a woman scream. It appeared to be a body, but it was so mangle-

That hair. And once he saw the color of the hair through the blood, Dexter also was able to match her skin color and rough body shape. "Kara?" he whispered, ignoring Rashard shouting behind him. He went on bent knee next to her, looking at her injuries. For a moment, he couldn't even begin to assess her; then his mind pulled out of the shock and he saw fingers that were too short and gore-filled eye sockets.

He spun away from her so that he wouldn't puke on her. He wasn't sure how, but his stomach found something to bring up and he retched all over the mall's carpet.

"Is she alive? Dexter? Dexter! Is she alive?" Rashard was shaking him and Dexter tried to pull himself together. He wasn't strong enough for this, not at all. Every time he looked at her, he started to lose it.

"She's alive... somehow," the security guard said, his fingers on her neck. "That's a miricle."

"She's a nova," Rashard said, both to the guard and the person on the phone. "Yes, we need an ambulance. She can heal herself, but she's still going to need medical care."

"Oh. A nova?" the guard said casually. "Then she'll be ok."

Anger rose in Dexter in a mad rush, and the smaller man grabbed the guard's shirt. "Ok? OK!? Would you be 'ok' if you survived something like that? Would you!?"

"Look, man, I didn't mean it like that!" the guard snapped, but Dexter was beyond hearing. It took four men to pull him off and the paramedics had to sedate him before they took Kara away.

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OOC: This post occurs on April 13, 3 am Addis Abba (or April 12, 8 pm CST in US)

Good things came to good people, her mother had always told her. Usually, that statement had been followed by a lecture about how Kylie had messed up again and was a bad girl. But that screeching voice wasn't here now, and Kylie found that she didn't miss it.

Caramel's screams came through the earphones in crisp, perfect beauty, and Aura smiled contentedly. It was perfect; this whole setup had gone perfectly. The images of Cyn cutting Kara's eyes out played out across the screen, and Aura sighed happily. It was wonderful, so lovely. She'd been blowing smoke up Cyn's ass when she'd called her an artist, but Kylie had to give it to the girl: she'd done a masterful job on Caramel. And all it had cost her was a piece of her whiny-ex-boyfriend. It wasn't like Will was being all the helpful anymore; Kylie had no compulsion about cutting off a piece of him to send to Cyn as payment.

"Bitch," Kylie whispered, staring at the screen. Her heart pounded as she watched Cyn turn Caramel into something that Gabe would never again want. "You're uglier than I was before Gabe transformed me into a thing of beauty." She bared her teeth at the screen before schooling her face to calmness. Calm, she had to remain calm this time. She couldn't get caught.

The next several hours were spent editing the video. Kylie didn't want to just put it up; it was long, for one thing, and Kylie wanted to keep that little shifting secret to herself. While it would be fun to expose that to the world, Kylie was sure she could find a use for it later.

At about three am local, Kylie was satisfied. After a bit of fanagling, she had successfully shortened to about thirty minutes of the best parts, put to various music. Now for the fun part. The program that faked her OP address had cost her a bundle, and if it was ever found on her personal computer, there would be questions. But Kylie had no intention of getting caught, so no one would ever know.

Just as no one would ever know that she was 'RgAganstCaramel' on OpTube, the person who first posted the video of Cyn torturing Caramel to the world.

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