((Content Warning: Alluding to the vivisection of a creature. Proceed only if you feel comfortable with dark content.))
“Ah, you’re awake. That chitinous hide of yours certainly is tough.”
Helen’s multifaceted eyes looked about, as her neck strained to move. She focused blearily on Doc, who was just selecting the next scalpel for the first important cut. He turned to regard her, double checking the makeshift restraints he’d had to whip up in a short amount of time.
She tried to move her claws, to tear off the meager restraints that held her to the kitchen island, but her efforts were weak as a kitten. Sharpe felt he had to explain, he’d been told his bedside manner was fairly atrocious. Always practice, and adjust the method until it is perfect.
“Ah, please don’t try to move. It took some doing, but I had to cut the hydraulic tube system that allowed force on your joints and claws.Hoping to get a better look at that. Even someone as strong as you are won’t be able to generate enough leverage to remove the gag, or the rope. If you stay calm, it’ll be less painful.”
He selected the correct knife, humming to himself. Yes, the seven razor. Delicate enough to provide only a three millimeter destruction of tissue, sharp enough to gut a hellhound in a single swing. Next, notes.
“That said, I feel I do need to be honest with you. If you were just a human, you wouldn’t be getting the special treatment. However, entothropes are extremely rare. This is beyond special for me, thank you. Just making a few finishing touches on the exterior analysis… and done. Now, we’ll begin. Please try to stay alive for as long as possible.”
Doc Sharpe picked up the seven razor, and approached the wounded werewasp, who continued to thrash weakly. Horror and helpless rage were in those eyes, mandibles clacking around the towel Sharpe had stuffed halfway down her throat to muffle any begging or screaming. He always thought that was so annoying.
Just before he made the cut, he paused. Realization struck him, thinking back to the fight. Then he leaned in, whispering quietly to Helen. “You did something to Mallory, didn’t you? The way she fought was… she was enraged. Hm. It must have been something horrible.” A half second consideration. “I don’t like that.” He placed the seven razor against the chitinous skin that was just where the clavicle and sternum would meet in a normal human. The blade caught, drawing a bead of strange black ichor as Sharpe drew it down her strange, insect body.
“This is why I don’t usually have longstanding personal connections after… never mind. It’s all well and good being pleasant, but once you start caring about people, and their well being, not simply for their performance in a life or death situation, then things get cloudy. So! Minor change of plans. I estimate you’ll live for at least the next twenty minutes, as I’m going to do everything in my power to make those twenty minutes the Abyss on Prime for you, while still doing my job. If you’re lucky, you’ll live only ten.”
Helen started struggling in desperate earnest, buzzing screams muffled by the heavy towel. Claws scrabbled against the kitchen table, shredding the finish but not diving deep enough to do more than to ruin the look.
Outside, Glaz approached the door to the kitchen, and raised one beefy sorcerous fist to knock on the door. It was so cool, he had to show Doc! A mask that might help the big tiefling, but he’d left before even finding all the loot. Something about finding out more about the Wasp Lady. Glaz wasn’t totally sure. Doc was strange, but cool sometimes. The muffled thumps and quiet, buzzing screams that were nearly imperceptible made him hesitate on the knocking. Maybe… maybe he could just wait. Cool things sometimes are better after waiting. What was another five minutes, after all?
For Sharpe, nothing at all, a small delay.
For Helen, an eternity before darkness.
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