A Stolen Apartment | Los Angeles, CA | Monday Night Fandom Time
When Wesley came to, he was tied to a chair, his wrists and ankles roped together and a gag made out of a knotted strip of fabric shoved in his mouth. He knew at once that he'd already been badly beaten on top of the initial blow, though he couldn't say for how long, and he could remember bits and pieces of it.
So he hadn't been knocked out just the once, then.
His first instinct was to look around, to try to catch a glimpse of the view out the nearest window to at least give him some sense of what time of day it was, but before he could do any of that, Faith leapt onto his lap, eliciting a shout of agony.
The first thing he could think was that this was nothing like those minor burns he'd sustained in Panem. It hurt much, much more.
FaithFaith grabbed hold of Wesley's neck, running her thumbs over a series of cuts she'd inflicted on his lips and cheeks. She scrutinized her handiwork. Not good enough yet, she decided.
Popping her fingers (covered with his blood - that just made everything better) into her mouth, she wet them and then leaned in to apply them to the injuries decorating his face.
"All these little cuts and bruises," she sneered, "they just… bring out the mother in me."
She cradled his face in her hands, smirking viciously to get a rise out of him.
WesleyWesley could already feel himself going slack, that sudden dizziness and disorientation that warned him he was about to faint. In the back of his mind, it occured to him that he was ashamed of himself. Surely he'd been taught to withstand more pain than that. His father would be so disappointed...
FaithNoting this, Faith delivered a series of smacks to the side of his face. Sure, she'd kept going the last time he'd passed out, but now she was antsy for a little more fun. When she saw him choke and his eyes roll back, she smacked him harder.
"Now, now, don't poop out on me, damnit!" she chastised. "Otherwise this is all just going to be over too fast!" She yanked his head around in a circle, doing whatever she could to just make him pay attention already, damnit. "You'll be dead, and I'll be... bored."
Come on, Wesley!" she barked, watching his face redden with the impression of her hand on it. "Where's that stiff upper lip?"
WesleyChoking now, Wesley let out a muffled moan of pain as his head was forced backwards. It did, however, keep him conscious, and as he pulled his head forward to face her, Faith climbed off of him in satisfaction.
Faith"Now," said Faith, standing up but continuing to apply pressure to his neck just for the fun of it. "We've only done one of the five basic torture groups. We've done blunt -- " Oh, had they ever done blunt. She grinned at the memory. Hurling people into walls just got a bad rep, you know? But it was still fun. And when you had lamps and all sorts of other things to hit a guy with, there really was a whole wide world of possibilities! "But now," Faith listed, counting them off on her fingers, "that still leaves sharp, cold, hot and loud." She smirked, watching his face for the inevitable terror that was likely to set in. He was such a wimp. "Have a preference?"
Catching sight of what looked like a nod, Faith beamed. "Oh, that's great!" She leaned in to undo the gag, teasing, "It's always better with a little audience participation." She knelt down in front of him, grinning as she purred, "May I take your order, please?"
WesleyWesley's voice was hoarse and there was blood in his throat, so he spat a wad of blood onto the floor before rasping, "I was your Watcher, Faith. I know the real you. And even if you kill me, there's just one thing I want you to remember."
FaithFaith was no longer smiling, but she made no move to hurt him, just leaned in like she was interested. "What's that, love?"
WesleyWesley wasn't even focusing on the fact that this would get him hurt, and badly. He knew she was going to kill him. But right now he had to get this out.
"You," he gritted out, "are a piece of shit."
FaithAnd Faith leapt on him, gag in hand until she could get the right angle to shove it back into his mouth. "You should talk, huh?!" she yelled. "I guess I'm just gonna have to try a little harder!"
Across the room, she shattered a picture frame and pieced up a sliver of glass, testing it out on her finger and smirking when it drew blood.
"Let's switch to sharp for a while."
WesleyAs she stomped back over, Wesley braced himself for the impact, or tried to -- but he couldn't quite prepare himself for the agony he felt when a huge shard of glass was dug into his abdomen.
He screamed through the gag, going dizzy but still very much conscious of the sight of his own blood rising up in front of him as Faith forced the glass further in with her fingers.
Faith"Oh, no," Faith said, feigning surprise. "Looks like I dropped something in there. Hold still, sweetie."
And then she yanked out the blood-soaked shard and in a quick flash of her hand, whipped a bloody edge of it down one of his bound arms. The sleeve of his shirt turned a deep red as blood soaked through it, and Faith repeated the gesture to his other arm - just a quick, deep slice.
"You're just so much fun to play with, you know that?" she taunted him. When he didn't respond, she came around to kneel at his back, looking at the as-yet-unharmed expanses of skin that were his palms. "You just sit tight," she told him mockingly. "I'm gonna grab a steak knife."
Faith"Sharp" had been going on for almost two hours, and Faith was starting to get bored.
Or that was what she was telling herself, anyway, as she dropped the most recent shard of glass off the fire escape and returned to the apartment to resume her activities. It was a shame there weren't many people wandering outside anymore. The look on that guy's face when the carving knife had almost hit his daughter had been priceless.
"That's refreshing," she lied," hopping back into the apartment and sauntering over to her guest. "But I'm feeling a little cold." She smacked Wesley on the cheek. "What do you say we warm the place up?"
WesleyWesley, naturally, had nothing to say to that. He'd screamed himself hoarse, anyway, and though she'd left his neck mostly unharmed (because gag or no, she still obviously wanted him to scream as much as he could), making any kind of noise at all caused undue movement and accompanying jolts of pain.
But he followed her out of the corner of his eye as she disappeared into the kitchen. He didn't suppose he really wanted to know what would come next, but it was impossible not to look.
FaithFrom the stove, Faith wondered idly, "Do you ever wonder if things would've been different? If we'd never met?" She flicked on a lighter, gazing at the flame. "What if you'd had Buffy and Giles had been my Watcher? You think you'd still be here right now?" She laughed, then followed that up with, "Or would Giles be sitting in that chair?"
She tested the flame experimentally on a scrap of paper she'd found lying around, watching the edges burn. "Or is it just, like, fate? Like, there's no choice, you were gonna be here no matter what?" She finally found what she was looking for -- an aerosol can, the kind people used on their pans to keep them from sticking. "You ever think about that stuff?" she asked. "Fate, destiny?" She wandered back over to him, yanking his head back by his ear.
"I don't."
As Wesley looked on in horror, she flicked on the flame, then hit the nozzle of the can, magnifying it to a roaring fire.
"'Cause really, all of this is your own fault," she said, unclicking the flame and then flicking it back on again. "Since this may be... the last chance we will have to unload on each other, I feel that it is kind of my duty to tell you that if you'd been a better Watcher, I might have been a more positive role model!"
Faith flicked the flame back on again, this time targeting it right at him. While it didn't quite scorch his skin (no, that wasn't the name of the game, not yet -- for right now she was just going for the heat, the trepidation), she could see him starting to sweat. Yeah, that was it.
"Face it, Wesley, you really were a jerk. Always walking around as if you had some great big stake rammed up your -- English Channel." She snorted a laugh, then frowned when there was no audible response. Bending down to remove the gag, she hissed, "You know, I think I want to hear you scream."
WesleyDazed now from both the blood loss and the overpowering heat, Wesley only barely managed to grit out, "You never will."
Faith and AngelFaith didn't so much like that answer, no.
"Admit it, Wesley," she purred, holding up the lighter right to his face. "Didn't you always kind of have the hots for me?"
And just as she flicked the lighter on again, magnifying the flame and bringing it closer and closer to all that bloody, open skin --
-- the door burst open, and in came Angel.
Faith instinctively moved closer to Wesley, dropping the can and lighter to the floor and bringing to Wesley's throat a knife she'd brought from the kitchen. (No one said "hot" had to be exclusive, after all.)
"About time, Soul Boy," she sneered. "Ready to play now?"
AngelAngel took everything in. The blood on the floor, the aerosol can, the most pressing of Wesley's assorted injuries -- and then Faith.
"I'm ready."
FaithFaith allowed him to get a little further into the room, but didn't move the knife from Wesley's throat.
"Okay, you showed," she granted Angel. "But how do I know you are really in this? I mean, if I kill him, would that help?" She grinned. "Or just be really funny?"
AngelAngel gave her a hard look, not budging. "You don't think I know what you're after? I do."
Meanwhile, he was taking in the room. He couldn't advance, not without killing Wesley, but maybe there was something else...
Faith"You, I have to kill," Faith admitted. "Wesley is just for the hell of it." She smiled down at him, scraping the knife just a tad bit lower, just to make him feel the blade.
AngelAngel turned slowly. He couldnt get her to walk away, not entirely, but maybe if she had to follow him with her eyes, he could get her to get a better -- non-lethal -- angle.
"This isn't about Wesley," he said. The words didn't mean anything -- just had to keep her preoccupied, keep her moving. "It's about you and me."
Faith"No, baby, he's payback," Faith retorted. And she did move -- not entirely away from Wesley, not when it was so much fun yanking on his hair and keeping that knife where it was, but to the side of him.
Angel"For what?" Angel inquired. "I thought you were happy the way you are."
He was stalling, trying to make eye contact with Wesley and pass along a signal. And before that jibe could get Faith too angry, he followed it up quickly with, "And by the way, you never told me how much I'm worth."
FaithFaith smirked. "Fifteen thousand," she replied. "Plus expenses."
Not amazing, but it was her first go at this. She had to start somewhere.
AngelAngel gave her an unimpressed look.
"You're kidding."
Faith"Hey, I'm young," Faith defended herself. "I'm willing to work my way up."
AngelAngel surveyed her once more. Okay, he decided. She had enough distance from Wesley now for it to be safe to do this.
"You feel young, Faith?" he asked, knowing it would push a button with her. "I don't know. You're looking pretty worn out to me."
WesleyWesley, catching what Angel had seen too, recognized this as the perfect moment: he threw himself backwards, knocking himself over along with the chair to which he was tied.
There. That should give Angel enough room.
From then on he heard a series of kicks and punches, elapsing much too quickly for Wesley to keep track from his position of limited visibility on the ground. It was an even enough fight -- that he could tell from the noises, counting off Angel's every grunt and Faith's every cry out. But then he spotted a prize on the floor: Faith's knife.
Certain that Angel would keep Faith preoccupied, Wesley began edging toward it. Even crawling was too much of a challenge in his state, but if he swallowed all the instinctive whimpers rising up in his throat, he thought he might be able to slither over.
Faith and AngelThe fight continued, and just as Wesley managed to grab hold of the knife, unnoticed by either of the pair of them, Faith, shouting something Wesley couldn't keep track of, leapt onto Angel and sent the pair of them flying out the window.
FaithOn the ground outside, it took Faith barely a second to reorient herself before she continued hurling punches Angel's way.
"You're gonna die!" she shouted. "You hear me? You don't know what evil is!" She threw him against a wall, throwing punch after punch before he could get another one in.
"I'm bad!" she insisted. "Fight BACK!"
Rain started to pour down, and with it, Faith's last hold on sanity was flushed away. Her punches grew less and less meticulous and more wild, until finally she threw herself at Angel, punching his chest and grabbing his jacket.
"I'm bad! I'm bad! I'm bad!" Sobbing, she finally pleaded, "J-j-just do it, Angel, please just kill me!"
Angel took her in his arms, sinking down to hold her on the wet ground.
WesleyAnd Wesley, having only just freed himself and come limping down the stairs to help Angel, felt his hand go slack and barely heard the knife go falling to the ground from nerveless fingers as he took in the sight in front of him.
[[Warning for graphic descriptions of torture under the cut. This is taken and adapted from Angel 1x18, "Five by Five," and this wraps up that episode (and the spam for the evening). NFB, NFI, OOC is as good as punching Faith in the nose okay maybe not quite as good, and this is post five of seven. Follows this, this, this and this.]]
So he hadn't been knocked out just the once, then.
His first instinct was to look around, to try to catch a glimpse of the view out the nearest window to at least give him some sense of what time of day it was, but before he could do any of that, Faith leapt onto his lap, eliciting a shout of agony.
The first thing he could think was that this was nothing like those minor burns he'd sustained in Panem. It hurt much, much more.
FaithFaith grabbed hold of Wesley's neck, running her thumbs over a series of cuts she'd inflicted on his lips and cheeks. She scrutinized her handiwork. Not good enough yet, she decided.
Popping her fingers (covered with his blood - that just made everything better) into her mouth, she wet them and then leaned in to apply them to the injuries decorating his face.
"All these little cuts and bruises," she sneered, "they just… bring out the mother in me."
She cradled his face in her hands, smirking viciously to get a rise out of him.
WesleyWesley could already feel himself going slack, that sudden dizziness and disorientation that warned him he was about to faint. In the back of his mind, it occured to him that he was ashamed of himself. Surely he'd been taught to withstand more pain than that. His father would be so disappointed...
FaithNoting this, Faith delivered a series of smacks to the side of his face. Sure, she'd kept going the last time he'd passed out, but now she was antsy for a little more fun. When she saw him choke and his eyes roll back, she smacked him harder.
"Now, now, don't poop out on me, damnit!" she chastised. "Otherwise this is all just going to be over too fast!" She yanked his head around in a circle, doing whatever she could to just make him pay attention already, damnit. "You'll be dead, and I'll be... bored."
Come on, Wesley!" she barked, watching his face redden with the impression of her hand on it. "Where's that stiff upper lip?"
WesleyChoking now, Wesley let out a muffled moan of pain as his head was forced backwards. It did, however, keep him conscious, and as he pulled his head forward to face her, Faith climbed off of him in satisfaction.
Faith"Now," said Faith, standing up but continuing to apply pressure to his neck just for the fun of it. "We've only done one of the five basic torture groups. We've done blunt -- " Oh, had they ever done blunt. She grinned at the memory. Hurling people into walls just got a bad rep, you know? But it was still fun. And when you had lamps and all sorts of other things to hit a guy with, there really was a whole wide world of possibilities! "But now," Faith listed, counting them off on her fingers, "that still leaves sharp, cold, hot and loud." She smirked, watching his face for the inevitable terror that was likely to set in. He was such a wimp. "Have a preference?"
Catching sight of what looked like a nod, Faith beamed. "Oh, that's great!" She leaned in to undo the gag, teasing, "It's always better with a little audience participation." She knelt down in front of him, grinning as she purred, "May I take your order, please?"
WesleyWesley's voice was hoarse and there was blood in his throat, so he spat a wad of blood onto the floor before rasping, "I was your Watcher, Faith. I know the real you. And even if you kill me, there's just one thing I want you to remember."
FaithFaith was no longer smiling, but she made no move to hurt him, just leaned in like she was interested. "What's that, love?"
WesleyWesley wasn't even focusing on the fact that this would get him hurt, and badly. He knew she was going to kill him. But right now he had to get this out.
"You," he gritted out, "are a piece of shit."
FaithAnd Faith leapt on him, gag in hand until she could get the right angle to shove it back into his mouth. "You should talk, huh?!" she yelled. "I guess I'm just gonna have to try a little harder!"
Across the room, she shattered a picture frame and pieced up a sliver of glass, testing it out on her finger and smirking when it drew blood.
"Let's switch to sharp for a while."
WesleyAs she stomped back over, Wesley braced himself for the impact, or tried to -- but he couldn't quite prepare himself for the agony he felt when a huge shard of glass was dug into his abdomen.
He screamed through the gag, going dizzy but still very much conscious of the sight of his own blood rising up in front of him as Faith forced the glass further in with her fingers.
Faith"Oh, no," Faith said, feigning surprise. "Looks like I dropped something in there. Hold still, sweetie."
And then she yanked out the blood-soaked shard and in a quick flash of her hand, whipped a bloody edge of it down one of his bound arms. The sleeve of his shirt turned a deep red as blood soaked through it, and Faith repeated the gesture to his other arm - just a quick, deep slice.
"You're just so much fun to play with, you know that?" she taunted him. When he didn't respond, she came around to kneel at his back, looking at the as-yet-unharmed expanses of skin that were his palms. "You just sit tight," she told him mockingly. "I'm gonna grab a steak knife."
Faith"Sharp" had been going on for almost two hours, and Faith was starting to get bored.
Or that was what she was telling herself, anyway, as she dropped the most recent shard of glass off the fire escape and returned to the apartment to resume her activities. It was a shame there weren't many people wandering outside anymore. The look on that guy's face when the carving knife had almost hit his daughter had been priceless.
"That's refreshing," she lied," hopping back into the apartment and sauntering over to her guest. "But I'm feeling a little cold." She smacked Wesley on the cheek. "What do you say we warm the place up?"
WesleyWesley, naturally, had nothing to say to that. He'd screamed himself hoarse, anyway, and though she'd left his neck mostly unharmed (because gag or no, she still obviously wanted him to scream as much as he could), making any kind of noise at all caused undue movement and accompanying jolts of pain.
But he followed her out of the corner of his eye as she disappeared into the kitchen. He didn't suppose he really wanted to know what would come next, but it was impossible not to look.
FaithFrom the stove, Faith wondered idly, "Do you ever wonder if things would've been different? If we'd never met?" She flicked on a lighter, gazing at the flame. "What if you'd had Buffy and Giles had been my Watcher? You think you'd still be here right now?" She laughed, then followed that up with, "Or would Giles be sitting in that chair?"
She tested the flame experimentally on a scrap of paper she'd found lying around, watching the edges burn. "Or is it just, like, fate? Like, there's no choice, you were gonna be here no matter what?" She finally found what she was looking for -- an aerosol can, the kind people used on their pans to keep them from sticking. "You ever think about that stuff?" she asked. "Fate, destiny?" She wandered back over to him, yanking his head back by his ear.
"I don't."
As Wesley looked on in horror, she flicked on the flame, then hit the nozzle of the can, magnifying it to a roaring fire.
"'Cause really, all of this is your own fault," she said, unclicking the flame and then flicking it back on again. "Since this may be... the last chance we will have to unload on each other, I feel that it is kind of my duty to tell you that if you'd been a better Watcher, I might have been a more positive role model!"
Faith flicked the flame back on again, this time targeting it right at him. While it didn't quite scorch his skin (no, that wasn't the name of the game, not yet -- for right now she was just going for the heat, the trepidation), she could see him starting to sweat. Yeah, that was it.
"Face it, Wesley, you really were a jerk. Always walking around as if you had some great big stake rammed up your -- English Channel." She snorted a laugh, then frowned when there was no audible response. Bending down to remove the gag, she hissed, "You know, I think I want to hear you scream."
WesleyDazed now from both the blood loss and the overpowering heat, Wesley only barely managed to grit out, "You never will."
Faith and AngelFaith didn't so much like that answer, no.
"Admit it, Wesley," she purred, holding up the lighter right to his face. "Didn't you always kind of have the hots for me?"
And just as she flicked the lighter on again, magnifying the flame and bringing it closer and closer to all that bloody, open skin --
-- the door burst open, and in came Angel.
Faith instinctively moved closer to Wesley, dropping the can and lighter to the floor and bringing to Wesley's throat a knife she'd brought from the kitchen. (No one said "hot" had to be exclusive, after all.)
"About time, Soul Boy," she sneered. "Ready to play now?"
AngelAngel took everything in. The blood on the floor, the aerosol can, the most pressing of Wesley's assorted injuries -- and then Faith.
"I'm ready."
FaithFaith allowed him to get a little further into the room, but didn't move the knife from Wesley's throat.
"Okay, you showed," she granted Angel. "But how do I know you are really in this? I mean, if I kill him, would that help?" She grinned. "Or just be really funny?"
AngelAngel gave her a hard look, not budging. "You don't think I know what you're after? I do."
Meanwhile, he was taking in the room. He couldn't advance, not without killing Wesley, but maybe there was something else...
Faith"You, I have to kill," Faith admitted. "Wesley is just for the hell of it." She smiled down at him, scraping the knife just a tad bit lower, just to make him feel the blade.
AngelAngel turned slowly. He couldnt get her to walk away, not entirely, but maybe if she had to follow him with her eyes, he could get her to get a better -- non-lethal -- angle.
"This isn't about Wesley," he said. The words didn't mean anything -- just had to keep her preoccupied, keep her moving. "It's about you and me."
Faith"No, baby, he's payback," Faith retorted. And she did move -- not entirely away from Wesley, not when it was so much fun yanking on his hair and keeping that knife where it was, but to the side of him.
Angel"For what?" Angel inquired. "I thought you were happy the way you are."
He was stalling, trying to make eye contact with Wesley and pass along a signal. And before that jibe could get Faith too angry, he followed it up quickly with, "And by the way, you never told me how much I'm worth."
FaithFaith smirked. "Fifteen thousand," she replied. "Plus expenses."
Not amazing, but it was her first go at this. She had to start somewhere.
AngelAngel gave her an unimpressed look.
"You're kidding."
Faith"Hey, I'm young," Faith defended herself. "I'm willing to work my way up."
AngelAngel surveyed her once more. Okay, he decided. She had enough distance from Wesley now for it to be safe to do this.
"You feel young, Faith?" he asked, knowing it would push a button with her. "I don't know. You're looking pretty worn out to me."
WesleyWesley, catching what Angel had seen too, recognized this as the perfect moment: he threw himself backwards, knocking himself over along with the chair to which he was tied.
There. That should give Angel enough room.
From then on he heard a series of kicks and punches, elapsing much too quickly for Wesley to keep track from his position of limited visibility on the ground. It was an even enough fight -- that he could tell from the noises, counting off Angel's every grunt and Faith's every cry out. But then he spotted a prize on the floor: Faith's knife.
Certain that Angel would keep Faith preoccupied, Wesley began edging toward it. Even crawling was too much of a challenge in his state, but if he swallowed all the instinctive whimpers rising up in his throat, he thought he might be able to slither over.
Faith and AngelThe fight continued, and just as Wesley managed to grab hold of the knife, unnoticed by either of the pair of them, Faith, shouting something Wesley couldn't keep track of, leapt onto Angel and sent the pair of them flying out the window.
FaithOn the ground outside, it took Faith barely a second to reorient herself before she continued hurling punches Angel's way.
"You're gonna die!" she shouted. "You hear me? You don't know what evil is!" She threw him against a wall, throwing punch after punch before he could get another one in.
"I'm bad!" she insisted. "Fight BACK!"
Rain started to pour down, and with it, Faith's last hold on sanity was flushed away. Her punches grew less and less meticulous and more wild, until finally she threw herself at Angel, punching his chest and grabbing his jacket.
"I'm bad! I'm bad! I'm bad!" Sobbing, she finally pleaded, "J-j-just do it, Angel, please just kill me!"
Angel took her in his arms, sinking down to hold her on the wet ground.
WesleyAnd Wesley, having only just freed himself and come limping down the stairs to help Angel, felt his hand go slack and barely heard the knife go falling to the ground from nerveless fingers as he took in the sight in front of him.
[[Warning for graphic descriptions of torture under the cut. This is taken and adapted from Angel 1x18, "Five by Five," and this wraps up that episode (and the spam for the evening). NFB, NFI, OOC is as good as punching Faith in the nose okay maybe not quite as good, and this is post five of seven. Follows this, this, this and this.]]