When It Rains…

[Vio]

¹

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Already she had experienced the viscous fog that clung to one’s skin and clothes, and the frigid bite of droplets that turned to shards of ice the moment they touched you. Now, Scarlette Grimm-Rosa was experiencing the third season of the forsaken island unto which she had been tossed, abandoned. Mullyssa Nemo was nothing short of harsh and unforgiving – merciful as the blazing sun in the middle of a heat wave, but without the stifling heat, dry air and dazzling radiance. It was cold, it was wet, and it was dark. It was also very noisy, for hundreds upon hundreds of raindrops – some slivers of silver, others enormous globules as big as a finger – descended unrelenting from the murky heavens above.

But the rain, even in the ‘Flooding Season’, did not dissuade her.

The transition had passed her by, the night of the new moon spent recovering. For all the wounds she had sustained, Scarlette was surprisingly mobile. That was a fact that her newfound acquaintances – residents of the isle – had pointed out quite early on. Sure, her body had been stiff as a board on every awakening, and her fatigue weighty as solid lead upon every fall into slumber. Nonetheless, she had pushed on and on, keeping mobile and partaking of activities alongside equally disturbed kin. She could not say she felt at home, but she did have a strange feeling of being welcome amongst the patients of Nemo. And yet, even so, her mind was dominated by a lust for freedom from the shackles that still lingered on her wrists.

Splish! Splash! Splosh! Each step she took disturbed an already aggravated puddle of clear water, not that it mattered much. Dressed in the same white cotton garb that was standard for the patients of this lost locale and cloaked by a raincoat down which the rainwaters cascaded like miniature waterfalls, she pushed her way against the torrent’s natural flow. Her destination was clear, her reasoning single-minded. Despite what Johann Carter, the Chief Warden, had advised her against doing, she was doing it all the same.

She looked up.

^{“I made it this far…,” Scarlette muttered:
“No turning back now.”}

Having meandered about the rocky terrain, sticking to the high grounds where able just to avoid being washed away by the sudden surges of cold water that erupted over the edges of small cliffs and crevices, Miss Grimm-Rosa now stood in the shadow of an enormous monument. Labelled as the main building of Nemo’s once sprawling facility, it loomed like a giant over all else, foundations rooted deeply into the tallest of the sheer, grey hills that formed the land’s spectral silhouette. The mere fact that there could be the key to her freedom at the pinnacle of such a structure was more than enough to drive her here. And yet, there was something all the more foreboding about this place now that she stood at its feet.

Damp air filled her lungs. She pushed forwards.

The main doors were absent; a mere squared maw of partly rotted and splintered timber was all that stood between the outside and the inside. That, and a few stone steps around the base of which water had pooled, forming a frothing puddle that radiated a good ten feet out from the lowest stair. Raindrops struck it, scattering shimmering petals of liquid far enough that they splashed against her coat before she even reached the pool’s edge.

“I wonder how hard it’s going to be to climb,” the dark-haired daredevil did exhale, taking her first step. The water was cold through the shoes she wore, soaking the soles and squelching between her toes. She might as well have been barefoot. The second step was far less of a shock to her system, even though the waters were quite suddenly upon her ankles. Illusory depths made her wonder, but the tiny lake grew no deeper.

Inside she stepped, the rains stopping abruptly, save for the remnants that fell from her coat and soaked the floor. Again, eerie was this place, dark and dreary. The walls and floor were showing extreme wear and tear, while walkways of metal and timber criss-crossed overhead were caked in rust. Rainwater still managed to find its way inside, pouring in through exposed pipes and creating small pools within a worn stone floor. Aside from the almost thunderous rumble of the rains without, and the drizzle of the waters that wormed their way inside, it was strangely silent…

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SPOILER: Click to show

{OOC}

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Starring…

_{Scarlette Grimm-Rosa (960018)
--}

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[Flame]

Long fingers stretched outwards, passing the cover of the overhanging roof, they touched the open air striding into the the downpour which soaked the whole island to its core. Droplets massive and small splashed down onto the stone balcony as it jutted out of this pinnacle of the building. They crashed into the finger, then the arm, and then finally upon the entire body of that figure stepping out upon it. They were an unending drumming, the power of nature at its peak crashing into the stone building wearing it down slowly but surely. It was so natural, so perfect, he stepped out fully into the wrath of the storm.

His tall figure stood naked and bare before the storm taking it in. It battered against him but he stood still unperturbed by its cruel and brutal nature. In fact if there was any observer they might see that a smile crept upon his face, a slim smile curving in maliciously at the edges. It was there that he laughed, it was loud, but silent, like a disturbing second voice to stand discordant with the first, that low drumming which engulfed the island. Stepping further out across the balcony he looked up and smiled both of his palms faced upwards as he accepted the rain as it glanced off him and his body. One step at a time he took until he stood at the precipice, his hands held to a metal guard railing far too short to be of any help for someone as massive as he.

But still placing both hands upon the guard he tightened their grip, metal groaned and bent to his own strength not that he cared. Instead he closed his eyes and sniffed the air. The slim sliver of a smile widened and opened to reveal rows upon rows of sharp curved teeth, the red stains of blood, fresh blood, still dripped upon them though they were quickly washed away by the rain. His discordant laughter shifted changing into a cruelly happy laughter booming and echoing through the air. Prey, his prey, it was coming he could taste it in the air, smell it all about him, feel it in the beating of the island. His long tongue licked about his lips, slowly drawing itself across the upper than lower lip before they came together massaging each other.

"Perfect, perfect, this smell. It is intoxicating." He spoke to himself, or to the storm. Reaching a single hand out he placed it over the edge. About the hand water coalesced, a ball of it growing larger and large until it filled the air about his hand sitting like a bubble not falling just there. "Come, come to me, you will be the dessert, I've not smelled one like this in a long time." He whispered, his face was euphoric his body trembling with delight. It was a shaking rising from his feet climbing up his legs, lower body, upper body, down the limbs and up to his face where he shuddered looking up to the sky with wide eyes. The ball of water in his hand fell, as if released from a spell it fell over the ledge as one massive droplet towards the rocks below.

"It seems I must prepare." He told himself glee upon his face.

"But first." He turned his eyes piercing back into the office which he had turned into his personal quarters. "I'll have to deal with the appetizer. No distractions."

He stalked back beneath the roof water dripping down his body into the dark room. Only the dim light of a few candles sparsely placed about it gave any definition to what furniture decorated it. There was a whimper, he turned and smiled at the person sat shaking in his chair. Dressed in the usual uniform of a patient, she was thin, scores and scores of marks like teeth buried themselves into her arms and legs. There she was thinner than ever, almost dried out. Not that they were needed anymore, but leather straps held her to the chair they wrapped her tight to it. He turned fully his amber eyes catching her in full, she was once a beauty, and there was still some of it visible. He smiled at her walking over. "Did you miss me?" He asked as he bent down before her placing a hand between her legs causing her to shiver even more.

She might have tried to scream, she had done so when had first took her here but now, now she could do nothing but show the fear in her eyes as it shook her whole body. "Don't worry, I know you missed Rhesus. Not to worry he's here to save you." Rhesus' voice was marred by the salivation as he stood up once more drawing a single finger up from her waist along the center of her chest and rising up to her neck still as full but now pale as it could ever be. At the same time he stepped about her standing behind her he now placed both hands on her shoulders bending down so his face was right behind hers. There was no fight left in this woman, but that was okay. She had served her purpose, now he had a more perfect play thing incoming. Placing his tongue on the nape of her neck he could feel her shutter. He smiled drawing the tongue along her neck sliding it about the side of it for a short while preparing his dining surface. Then drawing back his mouth widened and in a second he was biting down, rows and rows of teeth slipped into the skin about her exposed neck. The woman shuddered, her heads struggling throwing her pale blonde hair everywhere. It only lasted a few moments, blood spilled down Rhesus' dark blue skin, the red streams rolling off his chin and down his neck.

The Overseer knelt there for a few moments his face planted to the body. When he finally he was done he stood up wiping away some blood from his mouth. Then grabbing the chair he spoke, "Thank you, you've treated me well." The limp body still strapped to the chair gave no sign of responding. But he didn't mind, he picked it up lifting it into the air before walking outside with it. The rain washed away the rivers of blood still sliding down his body. Glancing one more time longingly at his
former dinner guest he proceeded to simply throw her, chair and all off of the balcony and down towards the world below.

Without any hesitation he turned about and strode back into his rooms. "Now then I'll need something nice to wear." He said glancing into the mirror happy looking upon his form. It was nothing less than perfection.

[Vio]

²

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To the stone floor she let her coat fall, free of the burden. Fingers flexed as Scarlette observed her own fair hands, no longer bound in wrappings of gauze like much of the rest of her form. Rapidly she was recovering, day by dreary day allowing her to peel away layers of dull white from her near porcelain pale skin. And yet, for every inch of bandage that finally fell from her flesh, she was reminded of the brutality of her last dance. Pluto – the fellow Esper with whom she had travelled – had left his mark, and many of them. She had no idea of the extent of her injuries, but the canvas that was her body was showing more and more of the handiwork that the Bat Man’s billowing blades had managed to forge.

“I don’t even remember taking this one,” she mumbled to herself as she unravelled some of the bandages on her right arm, casting them to the ground. Their insides were dyed dark rufous by her blood long since dried, while streaks of pale pink – some broad as twine, some thin as string – meandered across her limb in an uneven web. It was like a drunken spider had tried to weave for her a fresh set of bandages from his silk, only to abandon her in the act. Gently she picked at surgical thread, feeling only the slightest tingling and itching beneath her skin as she drew it free.

^{All this to keep me alive, she noted:
I… I think I’d be better off dead…}

^“No.”

Her foot stamped, squeezing water from her shoe.

I’ve got a job to do, and I won’t give up on it just because I’ve been beaten. Papa, I’ve not forgotten. I’ll get my strength back – I will liberate them all. That’s what I’m here for, isn’t it? Her thoughts echoed, unanswered, save for her own delirium responding in kind. Her body might have been bested once in a battle far less than favourable in odds, but that was just a test. This was all just a test, or so she believed. Already, despite her restraints, was her will starting the blossom again.

Dark eyes looked up towards the mysterious reaches of the atrium that loomed over the courtyard – many a square yard of open, smooth stone worn by water and etched into by unknown forces. Walls adorned with doors surrounded her on every side, the same pattern repeated near perfectly with each level above the ground. Metal guard rails, rusted stairways and broken gangways groaned gently against their own weight. Piles of rubble, brick and plaster formed sloped heaps against walls, or scattered like caltrops across the floor. Windows missing panes, or otherwise shattered, let in naught but a slow trickle of cool, damp air.

“The key is up there – it might be up there. And, so is ‘Rhesus’.” Her gaze narrowed. Miss Grimm-Rosa had tried to pry into the mysteries of this elusive character who Johann had warned her to avoid, posing otherwise innocent queries to fellow patients when the opportunity presented itself. And yet, never had she received a straight answer. Lecter, for all his flair and talkative nature, had kept silent. Sweeney seemed to dodge the question. Chucky had responded in kind with simple crayon drawings, but never spoken. Billy had shaken her head, while both Voorhees and Krueger had done little more than grunt. She had even tried to ask Myers, but he and the ‘Watchmen’ had done little more than repeat the same thing that everyone else had done in some way. The same words – words found etched into fence posts and rock faces and tables:

^{‘Rhesus Knows’}

Black hair now almost to her shoulders, the Red Terror walked towards one of the staircases at the opposing end of the courtyard. It was nestled within a partly open corridor of sorts, raised up a tad and split from the courtyard by a series of slate-hued pillars that supported the balcony of the floor above. Between some were meshes of wire fencing, some worn away or otherwise curled from their holds. One or two, she noted, looked as if they had been torn away from the stonework entirely.

The steps themselves were in decent enough condition, still stable as she climbed to the second floor, then to the third. But that was where Scarlette met her first obstacle. The stairs from third to fourth floor were blockaded by a mix of fallen brick and board from the level above, broken pipes allowing murky waters to pour across the derelict obstructions. A few pieces of torn, moth-eaten cloth were caught upon the rough edges of cracked stone, splintered wood and rusted metal.

^{“In a building this big…?”
She thought.
“There must be another way up.”}

For a solid couple of minutes she walked the hall of the third floor, peering across through rusty wire meshes. The gloomy, twilit nature of Mullyssa Nemo was not helpful in the least bit. Indeed, the woman’s eyes were almost solely dependent upon what little light was breaking inside and reflecting from shiny, sodden surfaces. It was bright enough to see by. Not that it mattered much when the only colours came about from rust and rot.

Once or twice she examined cell doors, but most were either locked or stark. One or two had beds, with old mattresses caked in mould-spore stains. Clearly even fungi failed to take proper root here unless hardy enough. Nonetheless she eventually reached the opposing side, finding another set of narrower stairs that led up to the floor above. Water cascaded down the sides of the stair, having worn channels through the concrete. This staircase stopped again before she could ascend to the fifth floor, her path broken by a sheer chunk of the building’s outer wall that had collapsed at some point in the past. The torrent outside was partly making its way inside, running back down the stairs.

If not up, then across… Abandoning that avenue, Scarlette instead stepped onto the balcony. A high guard rail strewn with additional bars and remnants of that same wire mesh served as some sort of safety mechanism, but her goal lay beyond. A bridge of sorts, just about wide enough for a person or two, stretched across from one side to the other. Some of its railings had fallen away entirely, giving it a precarious aesthetic, though that did nothing to change the tenacious termagant’s state of mind. The walkway itself was metallic, supported by a small number of sturdy anchoring chains that rooted themselves deeply into darkened corners. A couple of such cables hung down, either from their base or from their connection to the gangway.

She started to walk…

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SPOILER: Click to show

{OOC}

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Starring…

_{Scarlette Grimm-Rosa (960018)
--}

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[Flame]

"Alright then, what should I wear for this." Rhesus asked himself as he slid a loving hand down his side. At once he strode towards a nearby closet, it had once been used to hold all sorts of records for Mulyssa Nemo, he could still remember getting rid of that nonsense. Now it had true purpose, pulling open the door it revealed fine clothing carefully packed in with precision and dainty love. With a single hand he felt each one in his hand. Careful eyes admired the worksmanship of them, touched the cloth and reminded him of each one.

They were all of use. Each had a purpose, each a meaning, and each only aimed to improve on what he was and how he looked. For him it wasn't so preferential what he wore. To be frank he thought himself best taken in stark, it was the truth of him and his race. The greatest that had ever lived he called them. "It's truly unfortunate that others don't see this beauty. But no matter, it's like a date. I'm sure whoever it is will prefer that I dress up." He said to himself swinging his jaw from side to side licking free the last bits of blood still within his maw. "Now then," he pulled out a black suit looking it over. "This should be perfect," he said as his eyes slid over it.

Taking it by the hangar he strode back before the mirror. Hanging it upon a nearby chair he first took the shirt. A normal pale white with no embroidery or anything he placed one arm then another in. The cuffs were perfect coming right up to the wrist, around the neck it was not too tight, and twisting his arms a little he noted that he still had all his necessary flexibility. I'll have to remind the tailor who made this that he is an excellent craftsman. He paused in the middle of setting buttons halfway up his chest. Unfortunate that he won't get to hear it. He thought to himself remembering then what he had done to the man. Finishing buttoning he fastened the final button pulling the button line left then right as he adjusted its position. Perfection was a requirement, he needed to look his best after all. With one last pull at the edges of the shirt he got everything properly in place. Preened and pruned it was the first part of an excellent wear.

Proceeding on he put the tie on, a mostly black tie with dark red tinting on the edges of it he gave it a full windsor keeping it a little loose about the neck to give him plenty of room to breath. Then came the pants, a dark navy blue and silken they were quite comfortable, a very natural fit for him and his long legs. Shoes black and with a beautiful luster to them as if brand new. And finally the blazer, a simple black blazer unmarred by a single hair or piece of lint. He stood tall and proud in his whole getup. Looking in the mirror he looked for any imperfections. Two hands he drew along his body starting at the chest sliding down his sides and stopping finally at his hips. Rhesus' tongue poked out of his mouth sliding between his lips from side to side. He was quite happy with himself. "Ahh, one last thing."

Bringing forward a single hand he very carefully and lovingly ran his tongue along it. Then raising the hand further up he used it to slick back his dark navy blue hair. It had been slightly messed by the wind and the rain in his short time outside and it needed to be fixed. It took a few moments of fine care but soon it too came into line.

"I suppose I should greet my guest." He said to himself. One last time he licked his fingers tasting it for a moment. Then he put it back, walking from before his mirror to the stairwell which descended into the atrium. He could feel the presence coming, it was nearing, had been this whole time. He could feel it getting closer, it was a she he was sure of this. Strong, defiant perhaps, oh yes she would make an excellent course. And her blood, at this point he could smell it in the air, this blood would be beautiful, he could taste it in the air already, he nearly salivated for it. This would be a feast for the days. Glancing about the room to make sure he wasn't forgetting anything he decided that there was nothing before descending the stairwell. One circle, and then another until he stood there about even with the eighth floor and looked out about him.

"Welcome, to my humble abode. You must be a brave little lamb to be here. Come into the light, let me see you. Show you the comfort of my home. You are wet and cold." He said his loud booming voice echoing throughout the building.

He smiled, it was a dangerous and deadly smile, dastardly charm and lusting hunger all infused his voice with its beguiling tone.

[Vio]

³

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The bridge rattled and groaned with every bold step. Precarious, to say the least; the shadows of the architecture, worn and faded, forged mournful imagery. This was the mortal coil’s inception – a place of arrest and imprisonment given a more identifiable form. Every mesh and wire and bar symbolised the barricade between this world and the next. Every wall of crumbled brick mirrored the stone and soil unto which the human race, and indeed all of its kinship, had been cast.

Scarlette Grimm-Rosa’s beliefs could not allow her to see anything more and certainly nothing less than a glum skeleton of what her world was. In a way it was a foreshadowing of what she hoped would one day happen, what she one day hoped to bring about: The total desolation of the prison into which countless wrongly branded innocents had been cast. And here it was that some enigmatic soul had claimed their own? It boggled the woeful woman’s mind.

“Welcome,” a voice haunted; “To my humble abode.”

The dark-haired demoiselle turned about, anticipation giving shape to stirred dust as shadow. She did not know what to expect. Far too little knowledge had been implanted within her brain, as much as she had tried to learn. Intangible forms dismissed themselves as quickly as her eyes could paint a semblance of a silhouette. Deceived by her own mind, she saw naught but the weathered masonry of the balcony. But the voice was vivid as sunlight in this dark home draped in drear.

^{“Brave little lamb,” echoed the Geist:
“Come into the light.”}

Where is he…? Chocolate eyes searching the balconies of the third and fifth floors as she walked slowly across the creaking crossing, Scarlette still saw little more than phantasmal façades that lingered for just a fraction of a moment within her vision. Trickery, subconscious at its finest, crawled across her skin like spiders. Beneath linen wraps, scars itched as if hanging threads of silk had brushed just slightly upon her flesh. Maybe it was weakness that perturbed her so, and not the presence of a named yet faceless force.

“Rh– Hmm,” she grunted.

About to speak his name was she when her gaze fell to the floor far beneath. The scratched, beaten concrete of the courtyard that lay at the atrium’s very base had once seemed little more than a bland open space. The truth, as Miss Grimm-Rosa had now discovered, was something else entirely. From several dozen feet’s elevation a new, bigger picture had presented itself to her otherwise unobservant eyes. This was no trickery of the mind. Two words, scratched into the stone with brutal precision and clarity, were sprawled in granite hue across the grimy grey canvas.

“‘Rhesus Knows’…” Even her whispered recital resonated softly, like spectres conversing in the abandoned halls. Another few steps placed her near the middle of the open skywalk, the metal again clicking and moaning softly. Catching a glow, brown eyes dyed ruddy as she craned her neck and faced to the upper reaches. Shadows danced like bats disturbed and dust spiralled like lethargic serpents retreating to warmth in preparation for a cold night. Without, windless rain continued to hammer and growl. But the voice – or the power behind it – continued to crackle in the air without relent. A figure in the night stood an equal number of floors up from her as she was from the ground.

^{Scarlette’s eyes narrowed, darkening:
“…Who are you?”
She was certain she already knew the answer…}

---

SPOILER: Click to show

{OOC}

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Starring…

_{Scarlette Grimm-Rosa (960018)
Rhesus (001896)}

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[Flame]

From his perch high above everything else he peered down with a salacious smile. His tongue lovingly slid about his lips as he looked down into the atrium towards his new ... dinner guest. Amber eyes stared down into the ruin and wreckage of what used to be the main building, it had a beauty to it all the same. Also purposed to make his abode seem even more comfortable and serene to be surrounded by all this destruction. This building was like a stage set for him, his own personal entrance way, going through layers and layers of turmoil to come to it. But now that was not his focus.

Deep amber views pierced down the many layers of the building to find her. He had known where she was from the start, but her coming into view was something else. The smell of her rose through the atrium, it wasn't just her, it was the blood. Fresh and flowing, intoxicating even. He paused for a moment closing his eyes and sniffing the air. Both hands cupped his face as he drew in a great breath of it through his nose. His body pleasured itself through a long shudder from tail bone to head. She was coming to him, perhaps it was for the best, better to receive her up here than down there in that filth.

But then, a single hand caressed his face. No, he should wait, such a delicacy would be best with a good red wine. He had some above, perhaps he should go up and let it breath. His guest was so close, if he opened the bottle now she'd be here just in time to go alongside it. A girl and a nice full bodied wine, he closed his eyes to imagine it. The caressing hand slid down to his lips, a single finger pulling down the center and he kissed it. Bringing two fingers back to that one he kissed them again releasing them with a flourish. Yes, that is what I'll do. It was a captivatingly delectable idea all consuming for him for a moment.

So pausing his watch of her progress he turned about on the stairwell and took a step up. Then another, there was no hesitation save for that of a man drawn into his dreams and caught in this momentary exhilaration.

"Who are you?"

The words echoed up the chamber all the way to Rhesus' ears and he stopped in his step. So she had noticed him, he smiled, that was good, not all who had made this climb before had as he watched them. The last to do so, well he had been an excellent entree and had satisfied Rhesus for weeks. The fight in that man had made it all the better. So this, yes this was good news. Turning back around his amber eyes immediately locked onto the figure below, his guest. "If you don't know the answer to that already." He said choosing his words carefully.

"Then you are a fool and you are lost. But you are not lost. So you already know the answer to your question." His words held a serious tone to them. "You on the other hand I know naught about." He said as genially as he could, though it came out with an almost lecherous interest imbued within it. "Who are you? Tell me what brings a stray lamb such as yourself into my lair" He said bringing to bear his seductive voice. "I assume Johann will have warned you against it but you came anyways. So you must want something." His voice held a mild curiosity only so much as he would allow be heard. His longer fingers gripped the railing of the staircase as he leaned over and continued to look down at her. The hunger gripped his stomach even though he had feasted not moments ago. He was excited for this girl, she would make an excellent guest, he was certain.

[Vio]

⁴

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Cryptic was the answer that Scarlette’s query was met with, but all the same it founded certainty in her mind. There was absolutely no doubt at this point – this silhouette that looked down from above belonged to none other than ‘Rhesus’. And then he echoed the query back down unto her, as if her voice had been morphed by the cavernous innards of the building and spoken afresh. Immediately the question was begged, so much so that the grim girl glanced down, even if just briefly. For all the hushed whispers and bold inscriptions that plagued this land, Rhesus did not know. It was almost amusing, but no smile formed.

She humbled him.

^{“Scarlette,” Miss Grimm-Rosa answered:
“My name is Scarlette.”}

Hesitation gripped her like icy fingers. Dare she reveal her reasons for coming this far through mist, chill and torrent? The mere fact that Rhesus had referred to the Chief Warden by name – by first name at that – was setting off previously unheard alarm bells. Was Carter right? Should she have listened to his plea? No matter the answer, it was far too late.

“‘Step into my parlour,’ said the spider to the fly,” the maiden mused, intonation so faint that her words barely even registered in her own ears. The comparison was appropriate, to say the least. Amidst this web of rubble and rot, dereliction and decay, she might as well have been a hapless fly trapped within the silken, gluey threads. Unlike that fly, however, Scarlette struggled not. This was not a case of frenetic fly against sangfroid spider. Indeed, she could only see it the other way around. He was the fly, she was his creeping death; the only thing missing was a web.

… Telling a lie was something she despised, but the bandaged belle was seriously considering it. But what fib to force? She had never understood why. Whenever deception was present, the need to come clean was abundant, yet sometimes it was from her own lips that lies had to spill in order to make progress. Deception, or protection; to forgo the truth seemed like a grave sin, but sometimes it was for one’s own good – or even for the good of others. Better to withhold a painful, undermining reality than to let it bring ruination. The conflict within her grew as she pondered. She could not bring herself to lie.

She raised a wrist, bound by bluish metal.

“I want these off,” Scarlette answered, breaking the silence that swirled betwixt them. With her other hand, she slipped a thin finger under one of the bandages that clung to her skull, hidden beneath her bangs, and loosened it. Away it came with a little more work. Though she could not see anything but slightly blemished bandage falling away, yet more pinked brushstrokes adorned her forehead and cheek. Undaunted, her explanation continued: “I’ve been told you might have the key. Do you…?”

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SPOILER: Click to show

{OOC}

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Starring…

_{Scarlette Grimm-Rosa (960018)
Rhesus (001896)}

[/ul][/spoiler][/font][/sup][/blockquote][/div][/div][/div]

[Flame]

Scarlette, it was a name he had heard before. It as all the patients names did came over the communication lines which passed through his own quarters up at the top of the main building. They had described a cold blooded killer, a devil fruit user and wanted pirate, the so-called Red Terror. He smiled as he recalled the description he had overheard when she had been passed along to Mulyssa Nemo.

It also helped that he liked the name. With a caressing voice he whispered it to himself. "Scarlette ..." The name invoked a beautiful picture of red streams of blood rolling down an exposed neck. He could picture all the ways that he might devour such a target. Sip by sip, drop by drop, bit by bit all with the loving care as a chef preparing his meal. He could almost feel the hunger gurgle in his stomach but he suppressed it with superior control. Closing his eyes he took in a deep breath through his nose before relaxing once again.

Then breaking the silence was her voice. He turned his attention back down towards her. She had a wrist raised revealing a blueish-gray looking shackle binding the wrist in, seastone wrought and hard it was beyond even him to remove it by hand. The Red Terror wanted her binding removed all the same. So she was here for the same reason that many of his guests came. They came searching for the keys, his keys. They were all but useless to him but still he coveted them. They were one of the signs of his power, all those on the island were his and those keys were little more than the proof of that. "You were told I have the keys, by Johann no doubt."

Rhesus' eyes narrowed growing colder. That fool, normally this would require him to leave his keep to punish tat which was under his dominion. But in this singular case Rhesus decided to forgive, for it had brought him this gift. He licked his lips slowly and sensually. "Well ... I do have keys, many keys, to many doors and many places." He said slowly as he began to descend a few more steps at a time. His hand delicately brushed against the railing for the spiral staircase. "If they have sent you to me then, it might be so that I have the key to unlock you. The only way to know for certain is to check and to do that you must come to me." His voice suggestive of what she needed to do as he stepped onto the walkway connected the central spiral to the eighth floor. Below this the spiral had long since broken itself falling into ruin and nearly disconnecting the last upper floors from the rest of the building.

He paused looking again at Scarlette. The bandages on her forehead removed he could see the a redness atop it. It might be dried blood, which would be indicative of a wound perhaps. An imperfect meal, it would explain why the scent of blood was so powerful with this one. The other possibility would be fresh flesh raw and recently healed. That also had some appeal, such wounds were more tender, they had a slightly changed flavor, often a little sour. His patience waned slightly as his stomach churned and gurgled. But he would be patient, for either trait he did not mind waiting a little longer. Besides he was king here, the servants should come to him. He had no need to go to them. Necessity brought them before his might. He smiled a soft and disturbingly calm smile. It was backed by the knowledge of what was to come, she had no choice, like a lamb to the lair, or a fly to a web she was snared the second she touched it. She was his.

[Vio]

⁵

---

I’m starting to see what they meant… Suspicions confirmed as her conversation partner upon high elaborated upon her query, Miss Grimm-Rosa could not help but take heed of the mysterious warning that many a fellow patient had provided. Rhesus knew. He knew far too much. Or, perhaps he was merely making educated guesses? Whatever the reason, whatever the method, it was irritating. The way he spoke, calm and calculated, reminded her of Octavier. That was a man who had founded his position upon a lie. That was another reason that her loathing for deception had grown.

“Come to me,” Rhesus finished. There was an odd level of suggestion in those last three words. No. It was not a suggestion. It was an order irrefutable. And that was where the similarities between him and Octavier ended abruptly. Though she certainly could not read this man’s state of being, Scarlette was certain of one thing, and that was that Rhesus knew he had power. Unlike the wielder of the Hara Hara no Mi, this peculiar man of darkness needed no illusion to hold his position.

A quick look around revealed no easy way up to the fifth floor. Indeed, from there on, walkways and staircases seemed to lack in number. The very walls of the building looked beaten down, bearing scars that were not too unlike hers. Scratches, gashes and pits in brick and mortar told mysterious tales of the kind of brutality this place had to withstand from within, let alone from the relentless rains without. Where in hell the flames did purge the sinners, here water and cold did the same to rotting prisons.

I think… I think he wants me to climb… He doesn’t want to come down… Recollection of Carter’s words filled her mind. Only once, as far as she was aware, had Rhesus descended from his place upon high. She had no way of knowing whether he did so more regularly – the expression upon his face, just discernible from down below, said nothing. To be frank, the dark-haired demoness had never been too good at reading the face of another, lest they portray their strongest emotions. Sometimes it bothered her to not know what others were thinking in passing – to not feel what others felt.

This was one such occasion.

With a soft grunt of acceptance, she pressed on. Bits of rust flaked away from metal as she crossed the latter half of the bridge, finding her way to the broken feet of the stairway to the levels above. This one was not blockaded, but precarious all the same, for many a step had given way entirely. Of a flight of around twenty steps, only a half-dozen remained. Careful steps ascended the first three, eyes noting the one floating foothold that somehow remained. A hop, a skip, a jump; she landed with a wobble at the flight’s top. All the while, eyes drilled holes into her being.

^{“Why…,” she asked of him:
“Why do you lock yourself up there?”}

^…Creak…

Old metal groaned in rebellion as the wounded woman’s weight befell stray piping. The stairs between the fifth and sixth floor were entirely missing – no leap in her current state could make such a distance in both height and length. Fortune smiled just enough, however, for protruding pipework formed a fragile ladder to the upper reaches. Gripping tightly, cold metal burning a tad against her curled fingers, Scarlette ascended. Her lower back and stomach felt tight as half-healed wounds stressed their stitches beneath the layers of white. Her knees bent just enough to help her clamber, toes jamming into waiting footholds of dislodged brick.

Snap… Crackle… Pop! Eroded supports gave way, metal severed by rufous residue, plaster peeling and bolts popping free. The pipe practically screamed; cold water hissed as it spilled down upon her face and chest. Nonetheless, the Red Terror managed to throw herself that last few feet, fingers latching onto a rough, ragged overhang that was once an atrium balcony. Dangle she did for a moment or two before hoisting herself up, legs serving her where arms could not as she rolled herself over the edge with anything but elegance…

---

SPOILER: Click to show

{OOC}

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Starring…

_{Scarlette Grimm-Rosa (960018)
Rhesus (001896)}

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[Flame]

From his perch on the eighth floor before what was now the 'base' of the spiral stairwell central to the whole main building Rhesus watched. His amber eyes tracked Scarlette's progress as she made her journey along the edge of the fifth floor looking for the way up to the sixth. There would still be two more floors after that, each containing their own challenges just as the crossing from fifth to sixth floor was.

His eyes burned with the hot fire of desire, it wreathed his body causing him to smile more casually than usual. There was an essentially empowering feeling watching this woman force herself up the floors towards him. The strain that he could make out as she pushed herself was excellent, it would expel the salts from her body and place them resting upon her skin. All it did was serve to flavor his upcoming meal a slight bit more. At these thoughts he licked his lips wondering what sort of meal he might have with her. The red wine is a good idea, I think I'll stick with it. Perhaps first I'll have the delicacy of the liver. Yes that'll be excellent. He thought to himself pondering what his meal should be.

It'll need a side, perhaps some fava beans ... he paused considering the idea. It might require a little cooking, but for this, this was worth it. Are there still fava beans? Rhesus frowned slightly thinking for a moment, Yes, yes there should be. Fava beans and liver he nodded to himself. A nice chi- His thoughts were interrupted by her voice echoing up the chamber once again. The superior race frowned as he looked back down towards the Red Terror after her confusing question.

"I do not lock myself up here." He responded firmly and simply. He voiced his displeasure with the obviously misguided idea. Once again it was likely one of Johann's. What had the warden been telling patients about him? He would figure out soon once this Scarlette was within his grasp. There were none that he met that could endure his techniques once he brought his self to bare upon them. He could picture her strapped to a chair same as the last as he wrenched those secrets from her. He closed his eyes feeling a wave of pleasure at the idea. Opening his eyes suddenly he breathed out, hot breath turned to vapor before his eyes as he did so. "This is simply the best place to oversee my domain. The best vantage point to watch my subjects," His voice darkened as he said the last few words "and to punish them if necessary."

He paused considering his words for a moment. "It is the place most fit for me. Singular and above all others. You should be honored to join me for this dinner. There is no greater gift for a patient than it," his arm waved out before him gesturing to the whole of it all. "I assure you you are in for a singular experience." His voice was cool and collected giving emphasis to the 'singular experience' notion. Especially her, she should definitely feel honored, her treatment would be better than all those formerly in her position. He would bring out a nice chianti and along with some seasoning she would be dressed more finely and with greater dishes than any previous. What an honor indeed to be a part of Rhesus' next feast.

His long tongue poked itself out of his mouth once more drawing itself sensually over each lip. Then pursing them he rolled them back and forth atop each other his eyes closed concentrating on the image within his head.Yessss the thought slithered through his mind.

[Vio]

⁶

---

Rhesus’ response was certain, matter-of-factly in its intonation. It was clear that the two of them saw this world through entirely different eyes. For one, this was a castle centred within his domain. For the other, it was a ramshackle remnant of a prison to which but a single soul continued to cling. That very notion sparked excitement within Scarlette’s form; anticipation for the moment when she finally reached him – the moment when she would spare his miserable, delusional life. His liberation was coming.

^{“I assure you,” the Overseer added:
“You are in for a singular experience.”}

Catching her breath, she smiled in reply.

“Yours will be, too,” she returned beneath her breath. The seventh floor awaited her, looming above like the overhanging branches of a woodland canopy. Brickwork battered and bruised by relentless rains, the upper reaches were a strange mix of crumbled, jagged architecture and smooth, weathered masonry. It was very likely that these buildings were intended to last against the constant precipitation, but without the upkeep of a dedicated taskforce, things were falling apart bit by bit. Not that that seemed to bother anyone here, save the Wardens who looked after the patients. Scarlette, especially, cared little for the material world.

Meandering through tight corridors and shimmying along precarious ledges where she had to, the Red Terror kept on the move. Patches of stable walkway were now little more than a couple of square feet at a time, split by fallen stone and other stray debris. Broken pipes oozed chill water into cracks and crevices, polishing them smooth and depositing cemented sediments elsewhere. By the time her path was completely obstructed, she was practically right beneath where Rhesus stood.

It should be easier to climb than the pipes, she considered. Trapped and wrapped about a blockade of stone and woodwork were metal bars and wiry meshing, forming a perilous outcrop over the open space of the atrium below. Tentatively, the ghostly girl tugged at the mesh, testing it. It held fast to the rubble, barely shaking. As so she began to climb, all the while thinking: This would be so much easier if I could move more – if I had my strength back…

It took her the best part of two minutes to scale it, but she finally reached the level above. Sat on the fringe of partial exhaustion, Miss Grimm-Rosa could now see her quarry a lot more clearly. He was tall, dark-haired, dressed in a surprisingly clean suit and well-built compared to the majority of the patients who called Mullyssa Nemo home. He looked like a wealthy noble compared to the peasants, which no doubt further cemented his state of mind. Myers was broad of build, sure, but Rhesus looked as if he dined full-course meals on a regular basis. It almost begged the question of how, but the dark-haired demoiselle was not one to query it, despite how obvious a contrast it was to the norms of the past month.

I need a weapon… Bloodlust growing within her now that she could practically reach out and touch the man who supposedly held the keys to her freedom, Scarlette slowly followed the contours of the seventh level, already having spied her way to the eighth. The rusted, partially collapsed remnants of a walkway hung from their anchors, forming a bent slope whose lowest point lingered in mid-air. That was a jump she could make if she made it to the other side, though she cared little for how well such a platform would hold when her weight was upon it.

This will do, if I can just… Wrapping her fingers about a protruding piece of rebar almost as long as she was tall, the merciful madam wiggled and prised the pole of iron as best she could. She stressed and strained, core complaining as stitches tightened within her flesh, but finally the metal slipped free from its broken concrete confines. Tiny teeth of grey aggregate were still glued to the metal, lending the ferrous quarterstaff some vague semblance of a polearm.

It was no scythe, but she was not using it as such.

Bounding forwards, two steps about all she could use to gather momentum, Scarlette plunged one end of the rebar length into the stone of the seventh floor and – with all her might – pushed herself upwards. Vaulting through the stale, damp air, the atrocious acrobat managed a single somersault, landing with a thump upon the metal branch. It immediately began to bend, but time was something that the woman was not about to waste. She accelerated; each stride broad and balanced until she was finally able to make a jump from the falling wrought iron and onto the eighth floor’s balcony. Chocolate hues gleamed crimson, smile illuminating her pallid façade as she twirled and made to thrust at Rhesus with her newly acquired spear…

---

SPOILER: Click to show

{OOC}

takes the initiative against Rhesus, striking towards his chest!

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Starring…

_{Scarlette Grimm-Rosa (960018)
Rhesus (001896)}

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[Flame]

His eyes watched the so called Red Terror as she made her way to the seventh floor. Now almost directly beneath him he took to enjoying the view. Leaning over the railing he tilted just far enough forward so that he maintained a line of sight upon her. Watching as she worked her way over to a piece of rebar sticking out of what was once a wall. A cruel smile slicked upon his face as he watched her struggle to break it free from its current binding. It took her multiple moments to do so but finally she did get it free.

His hands slapped together leaving loud claps echoing throughout the building to congratulate her on her victory against the building itself. It would mean nothing all the same. As they all said, he knew, her intentions, the plan growing in her head he could almost see it in his own. As she stood beneath him eyeing places and objects on her way from the seventh floor to the eighth he brought his hands together once more entwining his fingers. Flicking his wrists down he heard a simply symphony of eight simultaneous cracks. A roll of his neck resulted in a similar pair. It was time to see if she was worth the bounty placed upon her head.

This was good, he enjoyed a little warm up before he partook in a meal, especially one so special as her. Besides he liked them feisty, with some bite, it made it all the more fun to break them. Ones who broke too easily were less so interesting to torture. They'd fall into acceptance of what happened to them too quickly, they stopped fighting their binds and gave up. Those with the fire, slowly taking apart their mind piece by piece, shattering it into a million pieces, that was priceless. Nearly as good as the meal that made. Scarlette, he could feel that she was one of those types, he'd have to work her down, shatter every last piece of what made her her. Until she could do no more but beg him to end her, if she had the strength to say the words at all. That would be the cherry on the top. He smiled as his hands embraced each other their fingers interlacing.

Then she started, going through what seemed an admirable acrobatics routine, for a human that is. Stopping for a moment on what remained of a walkway she quickly traversed that as well. Launching herself from it she landed not far from him rebar still in hand. He smiled as he turned towards the would be attacker his arms bent slightly in a half-ready position. Upon landing she twisted about before trying her best to skewer him with the makeshift weapon. "Normally it's quite rude to attack someone who has invited you to dinner." He voiced trying and only partially succeeding in masking his own amusement behind an annoyed vocalization of the words. Moving a single foot he turned allowing the lunging attack past him. Then reaching out he grasped the concrete head of her weapon with a single hand.

The shards of it like teeth pressed against his hand as he tightened his grip upon it. But like glass upon metal the concrete shattered falling to the floor in chunks or as dust. Those long fingers of Rhesus' wrapped themselves firmly about the underlying metal. "But perhaps I can make an exception, after all I do like them feisty." On the last word he straightened back to face her advancing that foot he had stepped back with. With that as well as his own strength applied he shoved back Scarlette letting go of the weapon as he did.

"Of course if this is it ..." He paused, disappointment filling his voice. "Then an apology may not be enough ... Uchimizu" The last word came out of his mouth as a whisper as he gathered the humidity from the air into his hand and unleashed it upon his prey throwing the small glob of water right at the middle of her abdomen.

[Vio]

⁷

---

“Uchimizu,” Rhesus whispered.

Scarlette’s eyes widened. Her reaction times dulled by supposedly beneficial bindings on top of the strength-sapping properties of the manacles that still clung to her wrists, even her best attempt at trying to dodge fell far short of the mark. A bullet of liquid – one gathered seemingly from nothingness – struck keen.

“Gh…!” She tensed, enduring the hit. It had no doubt pierced cloth and gauze, flesh as well; such was the power of said technique. She had seen it before – it was a Gyojin’s ability. And yet, despite his stature, Rhesus’ body did not say much in regards to such heritage. He had no fins, no gills, nor any other peculiar features that she could discern in the dim. The most striking things were his eyes – keen amber – and the unusual width of his mouth. There was nothing drastic that would say he was a Fishman, though at this point that was the least of her qualms. Fishman or not, he had just fired that from nothing but the air.

Scarlette winced. Scarlette grinned.

“I don’t see why you’d…even care for an apology…from one of your ‘subjects’,” she mocked, finding a bit of venom to spit in a vain, pitiful attempt at relieving her stresses. Sourness plagued her. While she, more often than not, could easily forgive and forget, certain individuals had made an everlasting impression – they had left a pungent aftertaste that even the flavourless rains, even the bittersweet tang of bloodshed, could not wash away. “Are we just lowly people trapped in this prison that you oversee, people that you punish if we dare to toe the line? Is that it?”

Standing stoic despite her injury, letting her polearm fall from her fingers and down into the atrium below, Miss Grimm-Rosa’s glare crackled with renewed frustration. Her beliefs – her twisted truths – now fuelled a fierce flame. At first this had just been about finding freedom; Rhesus was little more than a small obstacle. Now, however, the vengeful vixen had discarded such notions. This man was corrupt to the core, deserving not of liberation. He needed punishment. The notion was simple. Beat the sin from an imprisoned soul, let it ooze from them like claret, and then their passing could not be interrupted by the ‘Wardens’ she thought to exist between the material plane and the Otherworld.

^{“Well then, Rhesus,” she hissed his name:
“It’s time you…were the one…who was punished!”}

Darting through the cold burn, the raven-haired reaper rushed forth, drawing back a fist. She frowned slightly, knowing that – even though she consciously wanted to – she could not apply her Devil Fruit’s power to this strike. Nonetheless, she threw the punch, swift and straight. Muscles ached as her core twisted, channelling energy from her feet up her back, into her shoulder and down to her knuckles.

^{“Hyaa…!”}

---

SPOILER: Click to show

{OOC}

’s relentless and reckless in her offensive, despite her injuries (fresh and lingering alike). With all the physical might she can muster, she throws a punch straight for Rhesus’s abdomen to return the favour!

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Starring…

_{Scarlette Grimm-Rosa (960018)
Rhesus (001896)}

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[Flame]

A wicked smile crossed his face as Scarlette made her retorts to all that he had said moments ago. As she made her case he couldn't help but smile. The corners of his lips rose and spread outwards as he revealed the rows upon rows of sharp voracious teeth that glistened in the dim light that fell upon the atrium. Within his amber eyes lights glittered, amusement welled up, she felt as if she were making retort with no true backing.

"KaKaKaKaKaKaKa"
His haunting laughter bounced off surfaces all across the atrium echoing to form a cacophonous ambiance.

As she let the polearm fall he gestured toward it. His laughter died down though the rebounding ghost of those laughs continued to reside as a backdrop to the occurring scene "You would call trying to stab me with that, toeing the line?" He asked curiously while showing off the uninjured hand he had used to catch and break her makeshift weapon moments ago. "And I would not say I am the one trapping you all in the prison." He said turning his hand over and back looking at it with a lazy gaze. "The ones who have trapped you here are the same people who brought me here. The World Government. That those foolish humans failed to bind me as they bind you and the others is no fault of mine. Simply the foolishness of humanity in trying to hold back one such as myself. Always trying to control what it can't." Those last words slipped out of his mouth as he pulled together his hand into a fist.

Turning his attention back to Scarlette he laughed as she deemed that he was to be punished. Her? Punish him? His incessant 'Kaka'-ing laughter burst forth from his lips once again. Her pitiful form still chained up by the shackles which bound. The musculature which probably made her a decent fighter at one point visibly moved across her body as she drew back her fist. Rhesus did not react at all save to continue laughing. As the Red Terror leaped forth throwing out her arm with as it seemed all the energy she had to give alongside an accenting yell, he cruelly continued to do nothing more than laugh. His amber eyes looked down upon her form as that fist of hers landed squarely upon his abdomen.

Laughter stilled as he looked upon Scarlette's outstretched form for the punch. He had felt it, that was for certain, like a little bump a little above and to the right of his navel. An amused smile still maintained itself upon his face. "This here is the problem with humans there's no real weight behind them." He said brushing away her fist with a single hand while drawing his own hand back. "See if you can feel the difference." He said with a smile.

"Sansenmaigawara Sei-ken!"
His voice brimmed with a confidence one can only gain when they know they are correct.

His hand shot out like a bullet aimed straight for the center of her chest. It angled downwards toward her, he wondered for a moment whether it would send her straight through the concrete beneath her feet. Three-thousand tiles, it was a bit overkill in this case but he was making a point. Besides he was growing tired of this, it was no more fair than a baby trying to kill a lion.

[Vio]

⁸

---

What…? What is this…? Confusion spread across her face; a fresh mask of emotion so obvious upon her fair and scarred visage. Her strike had landed clean and true, all of her available strength backing it, and yet Rhesus had not even budged an inch. No. Not even a fraction of an inch. It’s like my hand’s being pushed back before I’d even hit him, assessed Scarlette Grimm-Rosa as stared confounded at her opponent. An inexplicable force had nullified all of her blow’s might before it could reach its mark, like a bee bouncing from a windowpane in its futile effort to gather nectar from a vase of flowers. Am I really that weak right now…?

^{“See if you can feel the difference,” Rhesus mused:
“Sansenmaigawara Seiken!”}

^“!”

Swift as her footing would allow, the encumbered angel made to evade the incoming strike, but her usual speed betrayed her. That flexibility she had once possessed was lost, so long as her body was bound in bandages. The madman’s fist collided not with her chest, but instead with her shoulder. A glancing blow; but that was all that was needed. The sheer shock of the attack resonated through her body as if she were a bronze bell struck, threatening to send her reeling over the edge. She endured, though she could have sworn she heard her own bones crack.

I can’t move my arm… The realising panicked her somewhat as she fell sideways against the railing, right arm securing her as her left seemed to fall limp. Fingers twitched, an almost nauseating discomfort dug itself deep into her body. That punch had dislocated her arm. She was loathed to consider what might have happened if that had struck her core.

^{“Hiihiihii…,” the Red Terror smiled:
“Are you going to stop holding back?”}

^{C– C– Crack!}

“I’ve been hit much harder before.” Her grin almost as broad and rivalling of Rhesus’ own razor smirk, Miss Grimm-Rosa had managed to relocate her shoulder. Sure, her body protested. Wave after wave of pain echoed through her form, but pain was something she could tolerate. She had been shot and sliced, pierced and punched, yet she had always managed to stay standing. Even her own power betrayed her with surges of pain. The mere shock of a limb being forcibly reset to its socket was potent, but fleeting, not unlike the two blows that she had thus far sustained in her combat against the Overseer.

^{“Hmph!” Scarlette grunted:
I’ll hit him this time!}

^Whoosh!

“Étape Rapide!” Doubt lingered as she rushed headlong back into the fray, ignoring the claret stains now seeping into her bandages and clothes. At least one old wound had been reopened, even if just partly, but in loosening those stitches she had also gained some mobility. Not much, but enough to give her dash that extra burst. Her form blurred into nothingness – a streak of black and white tinged with crimson that rushed towards Rhesus like a vengeful wind. If I can’t strike from the front, then I strike from behind…!

---

SPOILER: Click to show

{OOC}

’s sudden burst of speed aims to place her behind Rhesus to deliver a kick to the back of the neck!

---

13. Étape Rapide
“Quickstep”
By moving her legs at high speed, mirroring the steps of a dance, Scarlette can achieve bursts of speed far faster than her swiftest sprint. Becoming little more than a monochromatic blur to those of keenest eyesight, she can cross dozens of yards of distance in fractions of a second, being able to match the speeds of some of the most superhuman of combatants.

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Starring…

_{Scarlette Grimm-Rosa (960018)
Rhesus (001896)}

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