Chapter Text
“What would you like to do, Cassandra?”
Anna Ripley’s voice is positively dripping with excitement. She has Cassandra De Rolo pressed against her, with her back to Anna’s chest, and her head just beneath her chin. Her little heart pounds with a blend of horror and anticipation, and each beat sends a rush of adrenaline through Anna’s veins.
Oh, this is it. The moment they’d both been waiting for.
Bound on the table before them is Cassandra’s former teacher, Professor Byron Anders. The years he spent educating the De Rolo children clearly meant nothing to him, and he sold them out the second the Briarwoods extended the offer. The betrayal came as a great surprise to the clan. All of them, save for the youngest of the lot. Cass had never liked the man. She thought he was a pompous, arrogant, rude old leech, and he thought she was a spoiled little brat who lacked even a fraction of Percy’s potential.
She had voiced her concerns to her parents and siblings over the years, but was always met with that same infuriating, pitying smile. ‘ Poor Cassandra ’, their faces seemed to say.
‘ Poor, silly, naive little Cassandra .’
No, they never believed her. Not really. Her complaints weren’t enough to warrant any real concern, as there was never any physical contact, but a silver tongue is still cold, and the words cut deeper than any blade ever could.
“What should I do?” She asks, hesitation creeping in. Anna’s hands still rest on the youngest De Rolo’s shoulders, one thumb rubbing back and forth in a soothing motion. Cass is still so unsure. So anxious. So very new to all of this. It was endearing, in a strange way.
“Well, it depends on how long you plan on keeping him alive for. Tell me, how would you like him to pay?” She knew the girl was simply itching for a chance to take her revenge. She saw it in her eyes, sensed it in her voice, felt it rolling off her shoulders in waves. One metal claw trails up her spine, and she stands up straight, coming back to reality. The point is cold against her skin; sending little tingles up towards her neck like sparks of electricity. Does she want him to pay? Or does she simply want him gone ?
“I- I’m not sure… I’ve never thought about it.”
“Don’t lie to me.” says Ripley, leaning down to mutter sharply in Cassandra’s ear. “How many times now, has he tormented you? How long were you forced to endure his mockery? Hasn’t he been awful to you? Surely a bit of… retribution is in order. This desire has been brewing deep inside your mind for so very long. It’s time to let it out, my girl. Let it out. Can’t keep it in forever, oh no.”
Her voice is uncharacteristically gentle, like a mother encouraging her spawn to leave the nest for the first time. Her flesh hand takes a shining, untarnished scalpel from the counter nearby, pressing the handle into Cassandra’s own.
“For you.”
Anna may as well have carved open her chest and given the girl her still beating heart. She was never one for such sentiment. That said, she must have seen something in the child. Some sort of potential or spark. Not like dear Percy. Her desires were… different. There was no cool intellectualism about her. A long brewing rage festered just beneath the surface, fermenting and aging like the finest wine, and Anna simply could not let her go without having a taste for herself.
Cassandra’s fingers curl around the steel. It’s pleasantly cool against her flushed skin, and the solid weight fills her with a sense of… duty. New expectations weigh heavily upon her shoulders. Once again, Ripley presses ever closer, her spider-like fingers wrapping around the girl’s upper arms. Something warm, dark, and smooth swells in her chest. An emotion she can’t quite place, wrapping her up in a web of comfort, admiration, and absolute dread. Oh, all she wanted was her petty revenge. Thumbtacks in his shoes, glue on the doorknob, the silly pranks of childhood! What was she doing here, knife in hand and the devil herself whispering in her ear?
The scientist is quick to chastise her upon noticing the slump of her head and shallowing of her breath. As if reading Cass’s very thoughts, she pushes further.
“You’re a big girl now. More permanent measures must be taken,” she explains tersely. “Hurry up, then. There is a fine line between savouring and stalling.”
“I don’t think-” she starts to say, and neither person fails to notice the spark of hope igniting in their victim’s eyes, but Doctor Ripley wastes no time in snuffing it out with a soft, disapproving tut.
“It does not matter what you think, only what you do,” she snarls. The air of gentleness in her voice quickly takes its leave, but lingers in her hands as her metal claws walk an idle path along the nape of Cassandra’s neck. After a moment of adjusting to the unexpected sensation, her eyebrows knit together in thought. That was a rather odd thing for Ripley to say. She was a scientist through and through, with little tolerance for thoughtless impulsivity in her projects.
“Make it quick and clean or draw it out as you see fit. I care not, but do not dare waste the time and effort I put into this. Do you honestly believe dragging him here was an easy feat?”
Boots click softly against the smooth, stone floor as Ripley steps away. The sudden absence of her body heat leaves Cassandra acutely aware of the room’s chill. A sheen of sweat glistens on her pale forehead. Anna had a point. Anders was not exactly a dedicated warrior, but he was physically stronger than the good doctor and likely put up a decent fight. Then again, Ripley was not the type to allow things to get to that point. Guilt gnaws at the pit of Cassandra’s stomach as a thousand different scenarios flash through her head. All of them required extensive planning on Dr. Ripley’s part, and she had a point. The last thing she wanted to be was ungrateful.
“For god’s sake…” Ripley remarks, making her exasperation clear.
“Pull yourself together, child! Do not dare break now!”
Her eyes shine with a ferality matched only to that of a rabid dog, but there’s something more. Something darker. The presence of two opposing horrors coalescing into one impossible sight. The beast with human intelligence. The mastermind with a quiet, primal insanity.
Dr. Ripley’s breath is hot against her ear.
“You will succeed.”
It’s less of an encouragement and more of a command, but Cassandra only hears the former. She can only hear the praise and steadfast belief she’s been craving for years.
“Look at him,” says Ripley.
“Do not make the mistake of looking away.”
She couldn’t avert her gaze even if she tried. Had she done so, she may have begun to further doubt herself and her mentor’s plans. Ripley’s steely eyes bore into her skull and fill her with determination. She’s not a helpless child anymore, and it’s time to prove it.
She starts with his tongue. Prying open his jaws is a bit of a hassle, but with some retraction devices and a little help from Ripley, she manages. It’s a fitting target. The cruel organ struck deeper than any sword. Each subtle degradation spit her way stung more than she thought it should have. She wasn’t smart like Percy, and he knew it. Teaching Percy was easy. Anders had no difficulty educating him, and he could devote more time to his own dark schemes. Always a burden, she was. Always the problem.
. . .
You’d be surprised at how much a silver tongue bleeds. The blade had just barely sliced through the first layer when a river of crimson blood filled his gaping maw.
“Hm. He’ll asphyxiate if this keeps up,” Ripley remarks dispassionately.
“I take it you’d enjoy a little more time?”
“Um- yes, yes I would,” Cassandra responds, trying to sound professional.
“What are we supposed to do about… this?”
“Well, I don’t know, Cassandra. What are you supposed to do about this?”
A few hot tears sting her eyes when she hears that. It shouldn’t hurt her, but it does. In truth, it pains her more than any snide remark from Anders ever did. He thought she was stupid. A lost cause. Not like Ripley, who knew her intellect was nothing compared to that of Percival, but still chose to mould that brain into something great.
“No tears. I want you to be able to see what you’re doing.”
Ripley’s voice is cool and clipped, but Cassandra’s skin is on fire and her shirt is suddenly soaked in sweat and her teeth are chattering and her hands are shaking and snot is running down her nose and oh gods , what was she thinking? She can’t possibly bear the pressure of it all-
-And Ripley just sighs again. She’s going to have to take a wildly different approach with this one. She quickly yanks a lever on the surgical table and brings the choking man up to a sitting position with an ear splitting SKREEEK , letting the blood flow out of his mouth instead of down his windpipe. Then she leaves him, cast aside and forgotten for the time being.
“Blow,” she instructs crisply, pressing a handkerchief to Cass’s chapped face.
“And breathe.”
She places a hand over Cassandra’s midsection and waits for her to inhale. The rank smell of the room hits her nostrils and slowly pulls her out of her meltdown. Despite the stench, her pounding heart finally starts to slow, and she’s left with an odd mix of serenity and self loathing. Ripley’s hand moves from her abdomen to her chin, and tilts her head up to meet the terrified gaze of her former teacher.
Seeing his face cauterises her emotional wound. She’s failed, but not so badly that she cannot redeem herself. She wipes her sweaty palms on her trousers and grips the scalpel with newfound ferocity. She cuts through his tongue like paper, revelling in the hot splattering of blood against her skin. A moment suspended in crystal, as clear and detailed as they make them, followed by a heavy darkness.
. . .
Cassandra did not black out. She was awake and aware the entire time, but her other senses overrode her optical and her auditory processing. Two hours spent in a dark and deafened void, left only to feel in excruciating detail.
To feel his skin, slick with blood.
The weight of the scalpel, her name inscribed.
Ripley’s hands, one warm, one inhumanly cold.
And her pounding heart beat…
Beat…
Beat.