Justice

[CommunistSpy 441]

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OOC Note: This is just a RP that happened a short while ago, which I wanted to write into a mini-story with screenshots. No characters were perma-killed. Aislinn killed the character in the story.

 

He slowly opened his eyes, the dark chamber beginning to take form. A familiar greeting of throbbing pain awoke him, and he let out a quiet grunt. A solitary torch lit the stairwell, and the flickering light illuminated words etched into the stone above him.

 

 

...Aisl..inn..?

 

He muttered, slowly beginning to piece together what had happened. His eyes open wide in horror as he reads the solemn message.

 

She.. knows I'm.. s..sorry..

 

His words fell upon deaf ears, the system already in place. Behind him was a stone wall, and his only choice was to continue forward. He glanced at the door, inspecting it closely. Having found a stone button, he pressed it, and the door slid open. He stepped down, the door sealing closed behind him. His mind raced - what was happening to him?

 

 

Another wave of pain shot through his body as he moved down the steps, the shift in weight causing him to realize that every step he took meant more suffering. He realized that he had multiple bone fractures, but it was no use. No doctor was coming for him. Nobody was coming for him.

 

His eyes glanced up to the new writing, another message inscribed for him, for them.. for anyone who had to endure Aislinn's twisted sense of justice. He grimaced, pushing onward.

 

 

His eyes slowly dilated as he descended further down the stairs, straining as he read the final message above the door.

 

"Recognition"

 

 

What could it mean? Had he committed a crime, done an offense great enough to deserve this? He stepped into the room, a single candle providing a meager source of light against the far wall. A faint glimmer around the candle revealed dozens of small objects scattered on the floor, but he could not see them in time.

 

 

A metal tripwire had been strung between the two support poles, and his foot caught against it. He let out a faint yelp as his legs gave way, falling straight towards the dark floor. Instinctively, he sent his arm out to break his fall. In an instant, he made contact with the floor. Countless shards of broken glass and rusted caltrops pierced into his flesh, shredding the arm. He howled out fiercely, a new wave of pain coursing through his body.

 

He put his arms down and slowly pushed himself to his feet. Blood trickled from his arm, splattering on the stone floor. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he noticed both the writing above the candle, and the two doors on either side of the room. With some difficulty, he managed to pry some of the barbs and nails from his arm, letting out a faint gasp of relief.

 

Hatred.. vanity.. selfishness.. deceit.. greed.. hypocrisy.. murder.

 

He listed each one, his mind racing as he thought about what he had done. He had to continue onward, so he shuffled to the door on his left, stepping carefully to avoid any more broken glass. He pressed on the door, once more having it open and close behind him.

 

A long, dark hallway greeted him. There was no light, so he pressed a hand against the cold, stone wall, feeling his way forward. He came to a door, his nose scrunching up in disgust. The smell of death and decay emanated from the door; he was all too familiar with the stench. Having no choice, he opened the door, stepping into the next room. What awaited him? Death? Life? Forgiveness? Would his suffering finally end?

 

 

The room was pitch black. He could see nothing, but his other senses soon became overwhelmed. The smell of death was intoxicating, and what little strength he had left he used to avoid vomiting. The gentle hum of writhing maggots and insects filled the room, countless bodies strewn on the floor. Some were piled up in small mounds, having died in untold ways. A few of the bodies were fresh, expressions of horror still on their cold, lifeless faces. Others were little more than bones with bits of flesh; tattered rags remaining where clothes once were.

 

His hand ran along the wall, disgust overwhelming him as he took each step. He lifted his boot and stepped forward, each movement causing the grotesque sound of squishing flesh and crunching bone. He stops as he comes upon a pile of rotting corpses, almost falling straight into it. His face contorts in utter horror, and he spews out his last meal, and the tea that went with it.

 

The tea, that is the last thing he remembered. He was merely having a friendly chat with Aislinn, but then he drank the tea.. his next memory that of waking up in the stairwell. He had to move on, however. He maneuvered around the corpse pile, eventually finding his way back to the wall. His fingers eventually came upon a door, which he quickly found to be locked. Beside the door was a hole, and he stuck his arm in apprehensively.

 

 

His fingers felt a small, metal object. As he wrapped his hand around it, he realized the object was a razor sharp blade. Thinking it was a good decision at the time, he pulled it; the blade also serving as a lever. He strained, the blade digging into his flesh as it finally gave way with a satisfying ‘click’.

 

In an instant, a spring was released - a guillotine-style blade whizzing towards his upper forearm, slicing through his cloak and arm, stopping as it hits the bone. His jaw dropped, an expression of nothing less than pure and utter horror appearing on his face. He leaned over, grasping a bone with his torn and cut up arm. He set the bone in, wedging it against the blade as he pried it, giving him enough room to remove his arm.

 

He scrambled against the wall, his horrified expression only increasing as he realizes the door is opened. He stumbles in, his gaze flicking to blood writing on the wall.

 

 

He grasps his arm, both of them cut up and bleeding profusely. His cloak sleeves stick to his skin, matted with blood, and he continues through the next door, only one thought in his mind.

 

He had to leave. He had to escape.

 

 

It only took a few more steps before he came upon yet another door, and he entered. As the door shut behind him, he realized he was in a cell. A dark, tiny cell, with a locked door at the end. Is this what it had come to? Had he endured all that pain and suffering for nothing? To die in a cell in some unknown location?

 

It took a few moments for him to calm down, his head reeling from blood loss. He thought about each of the puzzles he had been in before, and became determined to solve this one. He ran his hands against the wall, too familiar with the comforting embrace of darkness. There was comfort with it; the things he might have seen if there was more light was enough to make him shudder.

 

His fingers ran along an odd stone, and his heart jumped with joy as a faint feeling of hope trickled through him. Prying at the stone, he removed it, feeling a key in the darkness. He crawled over to the door, unlocking it. He crawled into the room, ascending a short flight of stairs as the end drew near.

 

 

“Kneel”

 

He collapses to his knees before the podium, not having the energy to remain standing up. The soft thump of boots against the stone is heard behind him, Aislinn approaching steadily. Was he following him the whole time? Was he behind all this?

 

Aislinn walked with a strange skip in his step, smiling slightly as he took his place in the podium, towering over the victim.

 

 

The man looked up, muttering with a pained expression. T..the tea was good..

 

A fiendish smile formed on Aislinn’s face, and he nodded in approval. I want you to confess your wrongs.. all of them. He demanded, looking expectantly at the man.

 

In utter obedience, the man began listing off his crimes. Aislinn watched impassively as he listened to how the man inadvertently killed his lover, and his entire family. He confessed his wrongs, listing off the people he had harmed, physically and verbally. The man’s cries became that of sorrow and regret, and he said the world would be better off without him.

 

If that is what you think.. then end yourself right here.

 

Aislinn tossed a dagger at the man’s feet, frowning in disappointment as the man shyed away from it, not having the will or courage to do it.

 

You have done wrong, and you must be punished for it. You must be made right, you must be corrected. Most of all, you must have Justice!

 

His voice raises in tone as he continues, becoming more zealous and eager as his speech continues. He throws his hands up in the air upon finishing, strolling down to gaze at the pathetic creature. He nudges him to the ground, pulling out his sword.

 

The man knew; there was no doubt in his mind. His end had finally come. He had deserved it all, all the pain and suffering he went through. He had done wrong, and had to pay for it with his own blood.

 

He closed his eyes, mouthing the word ‘sorry’ as the blade was brought down upon his neck. His head rolled on the floor, and a crooked smile formed on Aislinn’s lips. He had completed his mission.

 

Justice.