the_scapegoat: (What was that? With Remiel)
(OOC: How could I not pick this one! Italicized quotes are from Hex episode S2x06.)

Listen kid, I'm not gonna bullshit you, all right? I don't give a good fuck what you know, or don't know, but I'm gonna torture you anyway, regardless. Not to get information. It's amusing, to me, to torture a cop. You can say anything you want cause I've heard it all before. All you can do is pray for a quick death, which you ain't gonna get. Mr. Blonde - Resevoir Dogs

"You see the thing is, psychopathic humans are all well and good, but you're dealing with another level here."

Until now, Azazeal had merely toyed with Max Rosen, small time (very small time) drugs dealer, and the young man was more out of his depth than he could imagine. Perie had roughed him up, the two Nephilim had goaded him with references to torture from Tarantino films, and then the faery had sliced his ear off. He was not looking good. Sick, in fact.

His handcuffs were released, but it was not to make him more comfortable, just the fact that for the next part of his torture, they wanted his hands.

"Shall we give you an example?"

Perie grinned as she saw Azazeal's look, knowing exactly what he meant and taking exceptional pleasure in her task. Kneeling at Max's side, she took one of his hands, and under the interested gazes of both Azazeal and Remiel, she pulled on one of his fingers. The flesh and the bone crackled and hissed, burning as she pulled it off. Max, of course, screamed and Remiel smiled, but Azazeal was serious now as he leant over Max, his lips curling in a snarl, his voice deep and vicious.

"Works internally too. I could have your heart in the palm of my hand in seconds."

That was when Max, crying and blubbing, completely cracked and told them what Leon had been doing in order to save Ella's life. With that information they knew what they planned to do, and that they could well stop Ella from dying. They had to be stopped.

Max was thrown onto the floor. He gave them no resistance, was not in a position to, as he just curled up. There was no time, right now, to continue, but when they returned, after Ella's long overdue death, they would finish him. It was impossible to let him go, and even if it hadn't, Azazeal had no intention of letting him live. Human life never rated highly with him. Azazeal would kill him, yes, but it would be long, painful, and put anything Tarantino could come up with to shame. But it would have to wait. Still, he couldn't give Max the chance to escape, or try and call for help. Not that there was any help to be found. So, as Remiel pulled his tongue from his mouth, Azazeal bound his legs together, letting skin knit with skin, fusing the two limbs.

And to give Max something truly memorable to think about while they were gone, both fallen angels moved into their true demonic forms, which left the man, speechless as he already was, nothing more that a shaking, drooling wreck, now with only what must be insanity to keep him company.
the_scapegoat: (Watching wall)
They had always drawn him. Their kind were the women who had first tempted the angels from Heaven. They were the ones who seduced, and were seduced by them. They were the ones who caused their Fall, not that they were to blame. The Nephilim had freely chosen their fate. Humans were game pieces and human witches beautiful and powerful, but that power came from him and his brothers. But the Fae with their own power and their sin and appetites as dark as his own always took his attention. Perie had served him faithfully, willingly, for so long. One of those first women, and he had loved her deeply. She would have done anything for him, and often did. Even offering to have the child he so needed, but that he couldn't allow. They would have all been in trouble then.

Now he stood in the grounds of Chateau de Rochefort, home to the High Lady of the Fortunate Isle, Faelyn. Here by mutual consent, he could have hardly resisted the chance to see, experience her dark tortures. That's what made the Unseelie so enjoyable to be around, and it drew him just as those first ones had.

He stood under the tree for quite sometime just looking up at the house, thinking, remembering, and anticipating, but when he finished his cigarette he knew it was time. He threw the butt onto the grass and stubbed it out with his shoe. Then he walked up to the chateau, his feet crunching under the gravel once he stepped off the grass. He wasn't one to knock, no alarms went off, and if there were wards, well he wanted her to know he was here. The door opened before him, and he stepped inside. Stopping, he looked about, pausing to admire the decor and sensing which way to go to find Faelyn.
the_scapegoat: (Torture me so sweetly)
There is only one thing that arouses animals more than pleasure, and that is pain. Under torture you are as if under the dominion of those grasses that produce visions. Everything you have heard told, everything you have read returns to your mind, as if you were being transported, not toward heaven, but toward hell. Under torture you say not only what the inquisitor wants, but also what you imagine might please him, because a bond (this, truly, diabolical) is established between you and him. Umberto Eco, Italian Writer

Torture comes in so many forms. Torture of the body, torture of the mind, torture of the soul. There is pain and denial. There is hope and there is the absence of it. There is violence, there is sexual, there is solitude. Torture is to punish, or to extract information, or just because.

Over the years, I have employed all these methods, each for different reasons. Each effective. Inquisition, witch trials, something more personal. I've probably done them all. And, I think Mr. Pink -- no, Mr. Blonde Remiel was right -- from Reservoir Dogs said it best that he didn't care what kind of information the guy has, he's going to torture him anyway. And that's what so many people fail to recognize, a worthwhile torture will fuck with your mind like that.

It's the tortures where you seek the truth or information that are perhaps the most difficult. These require the most delicate balance. Too much pain and they can start babbling about everything except what you want. It's quite unlike getting them to confess to something. Inflict enough pain long enough, and they will confess to being Satan himself. I actually had a witch in the chair once who admitted to sleeping with demons, namely myself. And I had never been near this particular woman, and she never saw me for who I was. This form of torture usually has time restraints. Punishment, now that torture, even consistent, can last, for a human, weeks, and in the right hands, even longer. For anything more than human, it can last a very long time.

But of all of them, for me, are the kind that Mr. Blonde referred to. The ones that are tortured because they are there. Sometimes I'm an active participant, at others merely an observer. Perie, it was always a pleasure to watch her carve a man up.

There are the other tortures, the incidental ones. The women who have gone insane because they loved me, locked forever in their own private torture chamber of their dreams. Their little minds just unable to cope, and yet they will still do anything for me.

I haven't even touched on employing less human methods. Except that I remember with fondness how Perie would place their still beating heart in the palm of my hand as her finale.

June 2010

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