BEG FOR MERCY

[anya czarina petrova]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 420px; border-top: #bb8877 8px solid; border-bottom: #bb8877 10px solid; background-color: #ccbbaa;] [atrb=width,400] It's a weeping and a moaning and a gnashing of teeth ; believe 2:00 PM - - T- 3HRS 15MINS TIL SUNSET|BLACKOUT Swathed in black, she blended in with the sea of dull, dark, and muted colors as several hundred drones made their way through this city for work, for pleasure, for the mundane. Her dress stood for purpose, a purpose unknown but only to her and few others. Her obedient rabid dog and her little police dog sniffing and snorting cocaine for his own good. Only they knew the terror to be unleashed and the overcast played in their favor. Even blizzards served their purpose, no matter the mess they made of complicating lives. With snow fall of three over the city, the snow mounds were high and imposing. Little kings of the mountain stood on them, but children had such an innocent that was some sort of a modern marvel. It was easy to tarnish, to destroy in situations that they would soon be under. Fifteen minutes over three hours this city would be swathed in darkness, a glorified atrocity called a blackout. It took a lot of prowess to pull off, but she had it, she owned it, and they needed to know her. They needed to know the Russians were back. The first terror already shock the city – she heard and felt it from where she stood. Turning, which was natural given the circumstance, with all the others on this street she did not let out a cry or scream, but it wasn’t a voice lost. Women cried out clutching their children, holding on to their mates if they had them nearby. Some fell to the ground in shock, in a fleeting faint, but that was merely funny to her. She chuckled, thankful it went unnoticed. Women were weak and she didn’t see herself on the same plane as others. The explosion at the police department was just the first event to erupt. She had more planned and underway. Yet, she was wasting time here, and she knew of that. Soon after the police department, fires and explosions would rock the harbor, lighting it a flame for all the city to see. From there, after this small stop to a simple veterinary office, she was to release animals at the zoo and deliver firsthand torture to the frontrunner of Boston’s future mayor political race. Neither of the two bastards were a good choice, in her opinion, but she figured she’d hinder one of them from winning. He didn’t have much going for him intelligence wise: a handsome face, but overall he was a weak man. Boston didn’t need that. Finding her footing, she moved against the sea of dolts as she made her way to this clinic. She knew of this veterinarian, being he surged to popularity after a press release of taking on his brother’s fortune 500 company, Lysander Grey had a popularity that he probably didn’t have before. She wanted to send this man into fear that he never knew before and to blame it on his fame. It would shake this simple man to his core and perhaps drive a wedge between him and his brother who was the sole cause for this fame. Simple mayhem like this amused her, but she knew the key to torture was loss like he never felt before, but she was out to kill him or his brother or the woman he called his girlfriend. No, Anya was going to make him see and hear the loss of several animals dying on his watch. A simple euthanization of bitches and bastards, a procedure this man had to do several times his self, and the slaughter of any cat she saw. Anya hated cats, she preferred dogs, but in this scenario neither were worth her time. Entering the clinic, the front desk was left unattended and she would have chuckled but she didn’t want to alert anyone to anything out of the ordinary. She managed to slip into the office and hide herself, the secretary talking to the English lilted man as she pressed down the tab for the cold water. Anya swore this woman was a ditz and her thoughts were not unjustified as the woman set down the glass on a mantle with pictures and brochures as she tapped over to answer the annoyingly loud ringing phone. The conversation was brief but it was long enough for Anya to dispense the rohypnol into the glass. Watching it dissolve, it wasn’t fully gone but the ditz let it go unnoticed as she brought it to her boss. Smiling to herself, Anya waited in an empty examining room and by the smell of the stagnant air, she knew it was unused. She heard the secretary ask for a lunch break, he responded, and then a minute later she announced it before shutting the door. “Game on, motherfucker.” Bursting into the kennels, she pulled out one of her many weapons she was armed with. The .357 magnum revolver fit in her hand and was brutal as it sounded off shots to three chows, two Labradors, a couple of German shepherds (possibly police dogs and that amused her), before she could hear a bolt of movement. She wasn’t positive if this man would come to her, but she wasn’t leaving this spot as dogs yelped and fell to the ground. She reveled in the carnage as the blood of them hit her face, she felt empowered by their deaths knowing fully well the misery that the loss of these animals to their owners would be. As humans, they made such pitiful dependent emotional ties to these animals and it was illusion. Dogs head peas for brains and useless felines even more so. She really feared for this world, when the inhabitants were just so useless. Turning to the man who entered the door, she looked into his eyes as she shot the last dog of the kennels repeatedly until she knew it was dead. Smiling she walked forward until she was close, draping her arms around his neck she purred into his ear. “What a pleasure it is to have you join me, Mr. Grey.” tag: lysander word count: 1022 notes: a few brief words.

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[LYSANDER NIKOLAUS GREY]

TEST THYSELF

Oh but don't bowl me over Just wait a minute well it kinda fell apart, things get so Crazy, crazy

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the explosion rocked the entire building and sent his staff in to a panic. as always, lysander maintained his self-control and used his soothing nature to bring them all down from their heightened, panicky state.

"calm down, everyone! someone turn on the news," he'd ordered them. ten minutes later, after hearing the first responder reports that the police station had an explosion thanks to a leaky gas line, lysander had ordered everyone to head home for the day. there was too much stress and panic for the day to be productive anyway. it was lunchtime by the time everyone had gone except for his secretary and himself.

standing alone in his office, lysander ran his fingers through his brown hair and sighed to himself. nixon had taken over the controls of grey enterprises, but lysander still had some duties as his brother took the reins from him. he essentially still had two jobs, and he was trying to get back on his feet with his clinic. his staff and colleagues had done a marvelous job keeping it going while he'd focused on his brother's company, but now he was struggling to fit back in. his mind was in 'ceo-mode' and not 'veterinarian-mode'.

the secretary interrupted his thoughts as she entered the office, offering him a glass of water. he smiled genuinely at her and accepted the drink. "thanks, shelly. go ahead and grab yourself some lunch and head home. the clinic's closed for the rest of the day. thanks for your help."

as she smiled and departed, he smiled to himself and sat at his desk, his fingers tracing up and down the outside of the glass for a moment as he stared numbly at his computer screen. boston was a crazy place nowadays. the police station having an explosion was surreal to him. he was one of those people who was naive enough to believe the news when they said it was a simple gas leak. plus, he didn't want anyone on his staff to panic any more than they already were. but a thought nagged him at the back of his mind. he was worried about jo, and he wondered if it was just a simple gas leak.

lifting his cellphone from his desk, he dialed her number and picked up his water glass, putting it to his lips just as the phone went to voicemail. sighing, he placed the untouched water back on the desk as he prepared himself to leave a message.

"hey, jo, it's ly. please call me or text me and let me know you're alright, baby. we heard the explosion all the way down here, and i'm worried about you."

unsure how else to end the message, he shut off the call and sighed irritably, picking up the glass again and drinking half of it in one gulp. sighing and wiping his mouth, he ran his fingers back in to his hair as he leaned over on his desk despondently. he couldn't just go down there. if it was only a gas leak, then he would be in the way. if it was something more... he couldn't think about that.

the explosion of a gunshot through the wall jolted him so violently in his chair that he knocked the water glass from the desk and it crashed to the floor, sending shards of glass and water everywhere. leaping up from his chair, lysander ran down the hallway toward the kennels as more shots sounded through the wall. his heart constricted in his chest with panic and fear. he was alone, and he imagined the animals dying in the other room. their yelps and panicked shrieks sent him over the edge with blind fear as he stumbled down the hallway.

having no idea what to expect, he burst around the corner to such a sight of carnage, it turned his stomach. he was instantly reminded of the night charlotte had been almost killed - a night that haunted him in his nightmares to this day - and he clutched the doorframe as he spun around it in his haste. his brown eyes widened, and he stiffened and turned to jelly at once. bile rose in his throat as his feet slipped on the blood already coating the floor. he recognized these animals, among them being charlotte's own dogs, and it nauseated him. they were companions as much as the humans in his life, and losing them took an instant toll on him.

his chocolate brown eyes snapped up to the woman who turned slowly to smile at him. she walked toward him, and he stiffened, too sickened by the grisly sight and the smell of the blood to move, as she draped her arms around his neck. she had blood on her, and he stared at her with wild confusion as she leaned against him, driving him back in to the doorframe as he tried to escape her touch. he was deafened by the sounds of the few surviving animals, the gunshots still ringing in his ears.

"who are you?" he asked her instantly, his hands going to her waist to push her away. as he did, his vision suddenly jarred and he shook his head to clear his eyes. his chest rose and fell rapidly, and he felt as if he was having trouble breathing as he tried to move away from her.

"you... killed them..." he stated obviously, his voice sounding muffled and weird in his head.

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[anya czarina petrova]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 420px; border-top: #bb8877 8px solid; border-bottom: #bb8877 10px solid; background-color: #ccbbaa;] [atrb=width,400] It's a weeping and a moaning and a gnashing of teeth ; believe She would never be satisfied until each person she targeted felt pain they never felt before, had nightmares they never dreamt before, spiraled down paths they never traveled down before. Until every last one of them felt a sense of grieving and lost, a gnawing thought at their conscious, the mindset they would never be safe. She was out to be the nightmare, to be their enemy, to be their villain they constantly thought of. Their bearer of bad luck, the sole cause their life turned upside down, the person they feared so much they had a sense of respect for what she could do to them. This man she was attacking, she wanted him to know a fear he never knew before. He would know it was all because of his last name and his sudden rise to popularity for taking over the reign of his half-brother’s business. He needed to know that when you rolled with top guns, even for a brief time that you would be targeted like them. Even if she wasn’t going after the CEO, this man would do, he was close enough. He needed to know pain and he needed to know he wasn’t in control. Destroying his business and whatever business he would get in the future, it was an easy task. He was alone and in charge of more animals than he could ever protect. She saw this man as a sad man, he didn’t have much in the way of confidence or anything that would seem attractive. Yet she was sure he had some sort of girl on his arm, men rarely were alone, and she knew the pain she brought forth to him would hurt her. That settled with her well, she relished at the idea of causing them pain. Even if this could bring them closer together, something that tragedy tended to do, she knew there would be pain and there would always be that fear. He could only ask her who she was and she chuckled as he took her hips and pushed him away. She licked her lips, feeling the taste of blood from animals and it didn’t affect her. It was nothing to her, death was nothing. She didn’t care the Irish slaughtered so many from the Russians in the past. Humans were replaceable and she was living proof of how easy it was to replace someone and replace them with someone better. She put the barrel of her gun against his temples, the blood of slain animals pressing a circle against them. She smiled, this suited him, this sort of fear and even if he was drugged with rohpynol somewhere in his brain he must feel the fear. The last cries of dying animals around them, panicked with fear, if he was such an animal lover it must affect him. She loved this feeling of power when it came to bringing misery. Using her leg, she pulled a leg from out beneath him, to watch him fall into the slow moving river of blood. She dropped, her legs straddling him at his waist. She inspected him, his features and she was almost bothered by how quaint he was. He was her age, a year younger or older, but it didn’t matter to her. He was too simple, too well-mannered, too clean. He was pathetic like the droop eye, miserable bassett hounds. She knew that this would hurt him and that’s what it was for, that was what stemmed her arousal to know she could be so destructive and evil to someone, like this man, who did nothing to warrant the attention. She removed clothing from him in a defiling manner, tugging and making the fabric come off roughly. She wasn’t a whore, but she liked the control women had over men when it came to sex. Raping men, it sounded so bizarre in a person’s head that it didn’t seem plausible, but she as doing it to this man. He had no control where the control was in her hands. That despite the reactions, she knew he didn’t want this and she was forcing him to be more suited to her needs. Her unwanted hold on him within her, she felt her hand go straight to his neck and choke him as she rolled her hips upon him, choking him for added pleasure. She was in control, he couldn’t defend himself thanks to the helping hands of drugs. She loved knowing she had that knowledge over others and she loved the power. She was in it for the power and she felt powerful, she didn’t want to stop feeling powerful for anyone. She would never weaken herself, she would never love, and she would never raise children with a doting affection. She loved being the symbol of hatred for Boston and she would spend the rest of her life making sure they knew it. When she as finished with this man after he defiled himself, she stood and dragged over the animals he should have been watching now dead and their life leaving their bodies. She didn’t care if their companionship was lost, she saw everything as replaceable when there was no shortage in sight. She dropped their dead husks on him, around him, keeping him pinned to the ground. She didn’t care if he was nude, if his naked flesh was touching the death around him. She wanted him to feel the lowest of lows, she liked the power, and she liked that hold over someone. Crouching down, she placed the steel barrel of her gun against his forehead. “Lights out.” She spoke quietly, before pulling the trigger and leaving behind the death she caused. She knew she didn’t have bullets and she knew she didn’t kill him, but she had shit to do and more havoc to cause. She just wanted him to have that dying moment, that flash of death before it happened. She loved this power, she would never stop willingly. tag: lysander word count: 1000 notes: a few brief words.

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[LYSANDER NIKOLAUS GREY]

TEST THYSELF

Oh but don't bowl me over Just wait a minute well it kinda fell apart, things get so Crazy, crazy

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A sluggishness was creeping into his arms and legs, and weirdly enough, his neck. His body felt as if it was going numb, slowly, and nothing he could do could stop it. He tried to shake one of his feet, to bring the feeling back into his leg, but he couldn't even lift his foot from the floor. The yelps and cries of the dying animals around them, coupled with the panicked whimpering and barking of the few that remained alive, spurred a nagging sensation at the back of his mind. He wanted to hit her. He wanted to break her for doing this. Lysander loved animals, oftentimes more than people. Animals were always loyal, always loving, and growing up as the bastard son of the Grey family taught him to be loyal to the things that were loyal to him. That was why he had loved his nannies and his butlers and his tutors. They loved him, they became his family when none of his half-blood relatives ever did. He didn't blame Nixon, especially now that they'd matured and Nixon had outgrown his dislike for his older half-brother, because he'd essentially been brainwashed by his insane mother. But Lysander had reason to believe in animals more than humans.

And they were begging him. They were crying out for that one human to save them, and he couldn't do it. He hated this woman in front of him as she laughed at him and refused to answer his question. He knew terrible people existed in this town. He knew about the mob and the serial killers and the rapists. But he was one of those naive citizens who hoped that it was all some horrific story concocted by creative minds and played like a movie on the news every night. He was one of those people who believed 'that will never happen to me' until it was actually happening to him.

That was what bred his fear. He could do nothing to stop this. He was not a violent man. He loved life, and even as he hated her, he would never kill her or hurt her. Deep inside, he knew this. And that made him weak in her eyes. She was more powerful than him in this moment, as the drug he was unaware she'd given him coursed through his system. He leaned against the doorframe as he successfully put some distance between them by pushing her hips away from him, but he was too weak to keep himself up as she hooked a foot behind his left ankle and yanked his footing out from beneath him.

He crumpled like a lifeless doll, his eyes widening as his left shoulder slammed unceremoniously onto the floor, splashing the river of blood that coursed through the kennel. His face fell in to it, coating the left side of his face and his hair with the thick redness. It sickened him, and his shoulders heaved naturally with a dry heave from his stomach. The choking sound nauseated him further, but she turned him over to his back before he could throw up. His body was useless now. He couldn't fight her as the blood seeped in to his shirt and crawled up his sides, soaking in to the fabric. He could feel the blood on his face drip down in to his ear, roll down his neck and rejoin its source on the floor. His hair on the left side of his face and on the back of his head was coated in it, matted and sticking as it dried on him.

The entire experience was torture, it was terrifying, but he could do nothing about it. The only thing he could control was his eyes, and as she roughly clawed at him, tearing his clothes from his helpless form, his eyes rolled back in to his head with a bout of dizziness. He almost puked, but he was in no control over his digestive system, so his head lolled to the side as he became a victim to something he never even imagined could happen to a man. He hated himself as his body reacted beyond his control. There was nothing sexual about the entire encounter, and as she choked him, he gagged for breath as she tortured him in a way he could never heal himself from.

Deep, heated hatred for this woman and everything she was doing to the animals and to him rolled off of him as she finished with him and unceremoniously left him to lay in the waste she'd left behind. Each dead body she draped over him made him jerk involuntarily, and his throat tightened with the misery of it all. He couldn't even be embarrassed for himself past the horror of it all as the bloodied bodies of innocent creatures piled up on him.

Finally, she crouched down over him, her face framed by the furry bodies she'd stacked on his smooth flesh, and her gun against his forehead was a relief. His tongue was swollen so he couldn't hope to answer her, and he welcomed the gun. It was a welcome alternative to his current situation. Amidst this room of terror, with his own body defiled and tained, Lysander wished for nothing but death. His groggy mind thought of Jo, how she would never forgive him for this even if it was beyond his control. He thought of the owners of each animal that now lay in a bloody heap on top of him, pinning him down with their sorrow, their grief, and their pain. He hated this woman, but he hated himself as well. Somehow, he imagined, he should have been able to anticipate this, to stop it before it happened. And he hadn't.

Her finger cocked the trigger, and he kept his eyes open, looking blankly up at her. He could feel nothing because he felt everything. No one emotion could hope to grab hold of his drugged mind because there were too many jockeying for position. So he watched her, internally begging her to just end him the way she'd ended the animals piled on him. She whispered her threat, and the gun clicked, and his eyes snapped shut simultaneously.

But nothing happened.

And that was when he realized the true terror of it all. It wasn't ending this pain with a quick death. It was allowing him to live with the horror of all that had happened to him. That was more torturous than death would be. That was more horrible.

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