Your support makes Blue Moon possible (Patreon)She knew that these were the final moments of her life. The room itself bore the unmistakable scent of death, rot and blood making her nose wrinkle in disgust. Average in size, torture chamber was fairly simple. Square-shaped, and large enough to fit both a 'bed' (more of a slab of steel than anything) and a single rack of instruments, it none the less fulfilled its purpose admirably.
To Len's own horror.
The steel walls were speckled with blood, and the bed that the girl herself was strapped onto held traces of crimson as well. Len had been strapped tightly onto it, her arms bound over her head. Her legs were in similar shape, dangling over the edge of the cold slab and strapped to the side. It was enough to make her stomach feel taught, and her attempts at struggling were met with naught. The girl was fairly average in appearance, in her late teens roughly. Long dark hair, not matted with grime, cushioned her body while the dim lights of the chamber showed her porcelain skin. Dark blue eyes, alight with fright, darted through the room. She, and several others, had been taken only a few days ago. The ship had arrived without warning, and despite her attempts the girl had been abducted as well. She'd been relegated, her meals naught more than stale rations. She'd been ignored by the guards, until now.
Forced out of cell just this morning, she'd been pushed into the torture room and stripped of everything but her underwear. Strapped down to the table, the girl couldn't do much but await her fate.
"Dammit." Her words were barely a hiss, teeth grit. She had to something, anything! But wh- "Huh?"
Her own thoughts would be interrupted as, up above, a speaker crackled to life. "Greetings, Subject #18." The words were metallic, artificial. "Due to a lack of any special traits, you have been selected to serve as an example to the rest of our captives. Please, turn your attention towards the tray besides you."
Example? What did that mean? Even so, she followed suit. Upon a simple metal tray was a small rack of tools, most meant for cutting. It was kind of hard not to notice, and yet the girl had to tried to keep herself from staring. Yet, now that she looked more closely, something caught her attention. Besides the various knives was a small jar of what almost seemed to be an ointment.
"In the next fives minutes, one of our own will enter the torture chamber. She will apply the chemical you see to your body. Said ointment will intensify any and all pain you feel. From there, she will make use of the various blades to begin the next part of the procedure." The metallic tone seemed to hesitate for a moment, as though to build up the 'drama'. "You will be disemboweled, slowly and most assuredly painfully. The procedure will be broadcasted to the rest of the captives, and your screams will serve as warning. Those who rebel will meet a similar fate."
"W-wait..." Fear creeped into her voice, eyes widening. "Y-You can't do this! You can't do this!"
The voice remained unfazed. "Goodbye, Subject #18." And with that, it crackled out of existence.
To Len's own horror.
The steel walls were speckled with blood, and the bed that the girl herself was strapped onto held traces of crimson as well. Len had been strapped tightly onto it, her arms bound over her head. Her legs were in similar shape, dangling over the edge of the cold slab and strapped to the side. It was enough to make her stomach feel taught, and her attempts at struggling were met with naught. The girl was fairly average in appearance, in her late teens roughly. Long dark hair, not matted with grime, cushioned her body while the dim lights of the chamber showed her porcelain skin. Dark blue eyes, alight with fright, darted through the room. She, and several others, had been taken only a few days ago. The ship had arrived without warning, and despite her attempts the girl had been abducted as well. She'd been relegated, her meals naught more than stale rations. She'd been ignored by the guards, until now.
Forced out of cell just this morning, she'd been pushed into the torture room and stripped of everything but her underwear. Strapped down to the table, the girl couldn't do much but await her fate.
"Dammit." Her words were barely a hiss, teeth grit. She had to something, anything! But wh- "Huh?"
Her own thoughts would be interrupted as, up above, a speaker crackled to life. "Greetings, Subject #18." The words were metallic, artificial. "Due to a lack of any special traits, you have been selected to serve as an example to the rest of our captives. Please, turn your attention towards the tray besides you."
Example? What did that mean? Even so, she followed suit. Upon a simple metal tray was a small rack of tools, most meant for cutting. It was kind of hard not to notice, and yet the girl had to tried to keep herself from staring. Yet, now that she looked more closely, something caught her attention. Besides the various knives was a small jar of what almost seemed to be an ointment.
"In the next fives minutes, one of our own will enter the torture chamber. She will apply the chemical you see to your body. Said ointment will intensify any and all pain you feel. From there, she will make use of the various blades to begin the next part of the procedure." The metallic tone seemed to hesitate for a moment, as though to build up the 'drama'. "You will be disemboweled, slowly and most assuredly painfully. The procedure will be broadcasted to the rest of the captives, and your screams will serve as warning. Those who rebel will meet a similar fate."
"W-wait..." Fear creeped into her voice, eyes widening. "Y-You can't do this! You can't do this!"
The voice remained unfazed. "Goodbye, Subject #18." And with that, it crackled out of existence.
