02 / video - WARNINGS FOR GORE, and Lucifer not giving any warnings for gore

[dissemble]

Now before I say anything, I want to remind you all not to shoot the messenger.

[Yes, Wonderland, the angel of light is still amongst you- and is making a rare video appearance on the network. Reasons for this will soon become apparent.]

Dean and I never saw eye to eye, but really-

[He pans the camera around as he speaks and...

Squeamish viewers will want to look away.

Apparently what is on your screen is Dean Winchester. It may be hard to tell, unless you are intimately acquainted with his internal organs.

There is a body strapped upright to a mirror in the ballroom, buck-ass nude and with all its inner parts on display. (ooc: that second link is to a drawing of a pig dissected.) The body has been carefully dissected, and the organs carefully pinned in place so that nothing will fall out. Well. Not all of organs, if you look closely. There's a small gap where the spleen should be.

Others have been relocated. The body is eyeless (they're on a chair in front of Dean) and thumbless (they're down the throat). The lack of blood indicates that someone has taken the time to drain Dean of all blood before setting him up here.

Lucifer doesn't seem to mind sharing all this with the network without a warning. One part of a human is the same as another, right?

Instead of sounding pleased - as one might expect from a being who would like to end all humans - his voice sounds resigned.] I suppose this is humanity for you.

Comments

[wordvomit]

[Ned has the sinking suspicion that Lucifer knows precisely who did it, and he just isn't telling because he enjoys being an agent of chaos.]

Sometimes they don't. Sometimes people sneak up behind other people and they never know. Sometimes people are framed.

[He doesn't like to assume, particularly when experience has shown that the culprit is rarely the first suspect.]

[dissemble]

[Ned, you are speaking and saying things that are not helpful.]

Only one way to find out.

1/2

[wordvomit]

[Lucifer, you are being intentionally obtuse.]

...fine.

[wordvomit]

[As per his habit, Ned glances around again nervously and uncurls an arm from his body. With the air of a man altogether too used to seeing the dead, he steps closer to Dean's splayed and mutilated body and gingerly touches him on one of the few places not expertly cut open: the tip of his nose.]

[ganking]

[ the touch at his nose has the desired effect, and dean's life returns to his very much mutilated body. it's not a pretty process though, as the first natural reaction is to draw breath, to fill his lungs -- if there's any left -- yet it ends in an ugly sound, a half-cough, a hacking for air.

it's like he's choking, and his voice is something rough and unused, any words barely audible because something's blocking the way... whatever effort to clear up the problem from his end only ends with small movements that get nothing done. the problems of being displayed for all to see.

somebody help him out here? ]

[wordvomit]

[Ned feels that small flickering of energy bursting at the tip of his finger, and Dean reanimates. Which...is pretty unpleasant to see in and of itself. It takes Ned a precious moment to realize that he can't talk because something is lodged in his throat.]

Oh! Oh, u-um, hold on-

[He fumbles for a moment, digging a pair of tongs out of his apron pocket and delicately probing down Dean's gullet for a solid mass - er, two solid masses. He pulls them out.]

...oh.

[Thumbs.

Forty-five seconds remaining.]

Ah- right. Okay, hi there. It's me, the Pie Maker. You're dead! Uh. Any idea how that happened?

[ganking]

[ it's not until ned's jamming his own fingers down dean's throat that dean realizes there's something actually in there that had been holding everything back. he struggles some, slowly, but the moment whatever it is comes out, he finally breathes in-- loud and almost desperate. ]

Wh-at's-- what's going on--

[ voice still rough, the words are clearer now, though the hint of panic isn't easily missed. this isn't the first weird fucking moment of his life, but being told -- by ned? the pie guy? what -- that he's dead, and, and-- ]

I can't-- why can't I see? What the hell is going on?

[ his eyes are open, he's opening them and yet nothing. he can't see a damn thing and if nothing else that's sparking something cold to run over his skin. ]

[wordvomit]

[The panicked ones always make him nervous. You never know when they're going to try to leap off the coroner's slab and run down the hall.]

You're dead,

[Ned replies with as much tact and gentility as he can muster, which is to say, very little. Thirty-eight seconds.]

Someone killed you, and we'd really like to find out who so if you'd be kind enough to tell me if you remember getting on anyone's bad side or thinking of someone who might have had it out for you, that would be really helpful since you've got less than a minute.

[ganking]

[ if this is a joke, you have real shitty humor, pie guy. ]

Dead? I'm not-- you slip something into that pie of yours, I'm not dead.

[ except there's that memory now, lingering right in the back of his mind. it's quiet, and dark, and a horribly sharp pain right at his back, in the spine. he remembers sagging then, the world around him dark though he could still breathe, could feel even as his legs were giving out.

but that's it... he's not dead. he's talking, isn't he? ]

I'm talking-- you're here, man, I can't be dead. And why can't I-- see.

[ someone turn on the fucking lights. ]

[wordvomit]

[Ned really wishes he had Chuck here right about now, because her soothing presence would keep him from being so anxious about the fact that Dean is wasting precious seconds denying the facts when he could be assisting in the capture of his murderer.

Thirty seconds.]

I don't really have time to explain, maybe when you come back for real we can talk about it- [Not happening. Not. Happening.] But someone, um, sort of turned you into a science project, do you remember anything at all?

[Twenty-three seconds.]

[ganking]

I don't know-- you're really sayin' I kicked it? I'm-- dead?

[ he doesn't know what time has to do with anything, why ned can't explain everything now. ]

Am I like, what, a zombie now? Am I missin' my head, is that why I can't see? [ creative imagination you're not wanted right now. oh man, he wonders if he's like rotting or something. what's sam gonna think? where's cas? he can fix this, right? dean just has to.. move or something.

which apparently isn't happening. still, at least he keeps talking. ]

I don't remember dying, just someone was there and now I'm here-- you need to find Sammy, he'll freak out. [ or get super mad. ]

[wordvomit]

[Ned already told him he has less than a minute, what does he want?]

I'll tell Sammy- [Who is Sammy? Ned doesn't even know.] -as soon as I can, but you need to tell me if you remember anything like height or a voice or a smell-

[He looks at his watch. Twelve seconds.]

-ahhhhrightnowplease.

[ganking]

[ huff huff!! ]

Height? I don't freakin' know, not like I had time to ask or measure, man-- [ the hurrying isn't helping, not one bit there, ned. ] Tall enough to take me out? I don't know-- I didn't even hear him coming. He smelled-- weird, had something on but nothing I'd smelled before, and he stabbed me with some kinda blade-- short. In the back, knew exactly what-- what he was doing, I think.

[ that much he knows for sure, because the pain had been so violent and numbing at the same time. afterward... his chest had exploded. pain right in the middle.

but why and who? maybe it should be obvious, but there's panic underneath all the bravado, the anger. he has no idea. there's no one he's pissed off, no one who should have reason to do this, right? and those who might would do so grandly, he'd have see them coming. ]

I can't believe some-- jackass got the jump on me, jesus--

[wordvomit]

[He smelled weird.

Well, at least that narrows the field down to a.) a man, who b.) has a distinctive scent. The Pie Maker and the Knitting Detective, Emerson Cod, have worked with less and found more in the past.

One secon-]

Thanks.

[He taps Dean again, grateful to see the body sag back into morbid repose. Ned too sags, albeit in something akin to relief. While aware that he didn't have to touch Philip the Beekeeping Physicist a second time to put him back in his rightful state - perhaps it is Wonderland's own caveat at work - Ned doesn't want to test that theory at greater length.

After a long moment, he finally realizes that he is still wielding his tongs and their quarry: Dean's thumbs. Ned makes a face before turning to place them on-]

Oh, come on.

[-a chair with Dean's missing eyes.]

...For Pete's sake.

[dissemble]

[Lucifer has kept silent during the exchange, knowing that the minute Dean heard his voice he would just right to one conclusion. But Dean didn't know who killed him. If Lucifer's suspicion is correct that is not surprising at all.

He ignores Ned's outburst about the eyes.]

So obtuse, even after death. Dean, however did you make it this far?

[wordvomit]

It's a miracle,

[Ned mumbles, depositing Dean's thumbs on the chair next to the eyeballs. Shudder. He then turns, empty tongs in hand, to look at Lucifer again in a much more serious light.]

...are you sure you don't know who did this?

[I mean. Lucifer looks kinda suspicious. Standing around with a flayed body and little to no empathy.]

[dissemble]

[The stare is cooly returned.]

Would you like to know what it would look like if I had killed him?

[wordvomit]

[Ned knows that he's pushing his luck. Lucifer's gaze isn't even a challenge, it is a much larger predator staring at something so small, so disinteresting that it barely deserves an iota of recognition.

To Lucifer, Ned is less than a fleck of phlegm on the shoe of the universe.]

...no, I can use my imagination,

[he manages meekly, sliding his tongs back into his apron and giving Dean's remains a somewhat sympathetic glance.]

I should- um. There are cops here, they'll probably...

[-find out what's going on, and sooner rather than later. With Dean's saliva all over his tongs Ned doesn't want to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Questions. Answers. He can picture an interrogation in a dark room with bright lights.]

I'm gonna go.

[dissemble]

Take care, now.

[Goodbye, Ned.

He doesn't even wave a hand, Ned is just gone. Without his dough.]