There's a reckonin' a comin'.

[cyclopticsadist]

Who: Niles, L, Azura, Henry, Myr, Connor,
When: Backdated to the 7th, through the rest of the month.
Where: A seedy motel, then an abandoned warehouse in the refugee district.
What: Sometimes people cut off their rival's fingers as self care. Don't judge.
Warnings: Niles cuts off all of L's fingers, it's gonna get nasty.



Mello vanishing was both a boon and a tragedy for Niles' plans. Getting a live grenade out of the picture made things much simpler, but it meant he had no secondary player to keep Myr's attention. The longer that Mello was gone, the more attention would be focused on him, no matter how much he sweet talked L's lackeys. This full moon was his best chance at success, and L was ever so helpfully acting out his self destructive schedule early. The night of the full moon was the perfect time to pounce, and the moment he saw L going for the bottle he gathered his supplies.

Time to get to work.

Comments

[cyclopticsadist]

[L's expressions as he tries to cast are fascinating. He wishes he knew more about the collar itself, wanting to bring back useful information to Henry about how it preforms. Each blow he tries to deal Niles causes it to flicker and hum, but nothing more than a puff of frost or a static shock breaks through its silencing functions.

As L accepts this, calms, stops struggling and starts strategizing, Niles can concentrate on making the cuts even and straight, not leaving any flaps or dangling bits as he bandages him up. It'd be so much easier, so much more fun to just rip them off. If this was for his pleasure he'd really relish the feeling of tearing flesh, he'd want to be holding L down with his own weight, feeling him struggle underneath him. But no, this was an operation. L didn't deserve that kind of gratuitous punishment after what he'd gone through with Mello, so this was going to be quick, and clean, and courteous.

The pinkie gives Niles the most trouble where that's concerned. It seems that he'd broken it earlier rather than properly dislocating it, so there's more mess to deal with, and more attention needed to healing and bandaging that stump. Once it's done however he sets his tools aside and stands. He unbuckles the belt acting as a tourniquet then steps out of the well lit radius for a moment before returning with a pitcher and a glass of water.]

Almost halfway there. How difficult are you going to be about drinking this? I have a funnel and a ring gag if I need it, but I don't think either of us wants that.

[hearthebell]

[The final finger on L's right hand is worse for wear; it only really matters if L can get away, collect what's lost, and find a healer of decent repute to reattach them. It's not too late; he has to remind himself of this fact somewhat forcefully, because as true as it might be objectively? The odds feel rather slim.

His breathing is shallow, his complexion ashen. Niles confirms that he wants to take both hands' worth of his fingers, the collar's levels are approaching an equilibrium he can exploit with enough focus and force.

He just needs the bastard to come closer, position himself in front of the restrained detective. The lightheadedness he feels when Niles removes the tourniquet is tempered by the rush of suddenly available magic flowing to the bandaged ends of his mutilated hand, and his dark eyes are wide and beseeching at the mention of water.]

No... not difficult...

[Though his hand is numb, the blood coursing to the area is vital. He remembers what it's like to have fingers; he can have them again. He just has to get this right on the first try.]

[cyclopticsadist]

[He's optimistic. Physical needs overpowered even the strongest intellects after all. He leans in, skeptical eye kept locked on the collar, as he brings the cup to L's mouth.]

[hearthebell]

[L's eyes lower, by all appearances compliant and meek... but once the rim is in his mouth, he bites it, because what happens next is nothing short of agony, shooting through his forearm and past his elbow, and of course extending out, far enough, fast enough...

He's managed to trip up the collar; it doesn't seem to know how to handle the sudden surge, at least immediately. The result is gruesomely beautiful: L's frozen blood splits through his bandages in lethally sharp spires, piercing through heat and tissue as it's his turn to cut into his foe.

He'll pay dearly for this, whether or not his limited range managed to hit something vital. By turning his blood into a set of impaling weapons ejected through his wounds, L's ensured that it's outside his body, and Niles can doubtless feel every tremor as chill and shock begin to set in.

It's fine; if this kills him, all I have to do is survive long enough for someone to find this place. Myr will assume the worst; Myr will make it in time.]

[cyclopticsadist]

[Niles is expecting a move. This is the obvious time, but he's not expecting this move. He was keeping a close watch on L's face, his lips, looking for another incantation coming his way. He's braced for the alarm, ready to jump back as soon as he hears it. But by the time the collar is buzzing in warning it's already too late. Because the blood was still connected to his body, the collar couldn't interrupt the casting, and before he knows what's happening Niles feels a cold, cutting pressure in his gut. The pain that should have come from the stab is strangely numbed by the cold, but it's a thin illusion that breaks as soon as he reacts.

Dropping the cup, he brings his arm down and back, smashing his forearm into the rigid icicles, shattering them. He steps back, reaching for the same healing products he'd been using on L a moment before. The wounds were deep, and potentially quite lethal. Niles' saving grace was the angle he'd been at. Instead of piercing directly through the body wall and into the meat of his organs, the frozen spears had cut obliquely through abdominal muscle. The wounds were bleeding profusely and quite painful, but nothing vital had been hit.

The icicle daggers were starting to melt within him and he could feel the collar sapping at his own blood where it mixed with L's. Disgusted, Niles does his best to flush L out of his wounds and patch himself up. All the while the collar diligently hummed as it started to draw back in the icicles, incrementally replenishing L once again.]

[hearthebell]

[The magic is raw, desperate, and primal. Its presentation is unexpected in some ways, exactly what he needed in others, and if L had the kind of control over this force he typically manages over his spells? He would find a way to twist and gouge with the weapons, ensure as much damage as possible to one who wants to clip his wings. Because he spoke true to Myr, and feels it now with keening intensity: what Niles is trying to take from him is something he cares enough to fight for with everything in him, even considering his sizable disadvantage.

Of course, Niles is going to fight back. Why wouldn't he? It wasn't a killing blow, L realizes with a plummeting sensation. Maybe more than the son of a bitch can just walk off, but not what he needed, not what would have helped him. As Niles shatters the icicles, L feels the shock through his forearm, and cries out involuntarily at the rending pain that he's sure will split through his own bone and muscle... but as his vision blurs and grays from his own significant blood loss, he is able to note that it never happens. The blood is diligently recollected by the collar, along with some of Niles', and while it's liquid once more, it's cold in his veins to the point where he pulls at his restraints with only the impulse to curl and preserve his body heat. His latest effort spent, it'll be some time before he can try again, if he even wants to put himself through that punishment once more. Half-conscious, he's winded and panting, shivering uncontrollably as the collar regulates his blood with a slight, dulled catch. Is the difference due to the intermingling of Niles blood in his system, or...?

He's dimly aware of the chimera attending to his wounds. He's dazed and fighting to retain consciousness, when it would be so much more easier to let the darkness flirting with him just melt his torment away.]

[cyclopticsadist]

[Once he's stemmed his own bleeding he returns to the chair, but stays behind L's wrists, reaching forward with his arms to re-bind the freshly bleeding stumps. His eye is locked on L's face, watching the man cling to awareness, sometimes slipping, but never for long.]

Well, if you can pull that off and stay...mostly afloat I guess you don't need that drink after all.

[While L is this low, why not keep him here for a while. He's proven he can take it. Niles puts the tourniquet on his left arm and starts again, working faster now that he's had some practice. He takes his time with the bandaging however, letting the collar replace whatever had been lost, and no more. Not until he was done with the final finger. With both hands fully bandaged, Niles knew he'd have to wait a bit before his final move, so he starts cleaning up. The fingers get packed neatly into a chill enchanted box, and he can't help but smile at the sight of them. He takes a deep, deep breath. The smell of blood is overpowering, the pain in his stomach is progressing to an all too enjoyable ache, and L's sharp, beautiful scream was echoing in his head now, after the fact.

He shuts the lid of the box with a snap, and sets it aside. Those thoughts were for later. He puts his attention back on L himself, forcing himself back on task.]

[hearthebell]

[The time that follows is dreamlike, passing slowly and then catching up ruthlessly to reality. One second, L has five fingers on his left hand; the next, there are three, and he has no memory of the first two being taken off or bandaged. Niles is at his side, close enough to watch his face as he fights to stay awake while his body and brain fairly beg him to just let this one go, feel some relief for awhile, accept the hideous and inevitable. Even the barbed collar piercing into his neck, pulling blood from his body and shoving it back in a nauseating cycle, could feel like a down pillow with the irresistible draw of just passing out.

Reality fades, then shudders back into focus. His hands are symmetrical again, bandaged, fully lacking and wrong. Niles has left his side; there's a sound like a distant gunshot that echoes throughout the spacious warehouse in the darkness, and then Niles starts advancing again, bringing with him an implement he'd mentioned earlier, felt no need to use due to L's feigned compliance. He won't be making that mistake again, it seems. Does he intend to try to get him to drink again? No... if that was the case, he'd probably have the funnel in hand, too.

A chime somewhere in the darkness catches his attention, dulcet compared to the collar's now-despised buzzing, but the reaction from Niles indicates that it's anything but good for him. Meaning, it could be excellent for L. That hope gives his flagging morale a second wind even as Niles' movements grow more rushed and panicked. The ring gag is tossed aside and forgotten, and Niles reaches instead for L's nose, restricting the airflow, forcing him to open his mouth and shoving a clawed finger inside. It's even sharper than it looks, somehow, and L feels its bite immediately when Niles gouges it through his tongue. It pulls another sharp sound from him, but... one strangled and drowned, this time, because there is so much blood. A fast and gushing flow of it, that the collar responds to nowhere near as efficiently, and he can work with this.

His body, like Niles', is meat, blood, and pain. It's also a live wire, writhing under the chimera's hands, a conduit for vengeance and fury and good old-fashioned electricity. L snaps back the moment Niles tries to withdraw, too, his teeth finding fierce purchase in Niles' hand. As long as Niles is here, getting fried at the electric chair of his own construction? L would pull the lightning from the sky if it meant finally managing to stop the monster's heart, hearing the thud of a sizzling body on the tarps beneath them.]

[cyclopticsadist]

[When Niles cast aside the ring gag he knew he would be paying for it. But he didn't have the time to be careful anymore. He could take an icicle through the palm, or lose a finger or two to frostbite. Those were acceptable losses, fair even. With that in mind he uses his ring finger rather than index or middle to cut through the meat of L's tongue, and again it's a simple, small, coincidental choice that saves his life. The index finger would have had a more direct line up his arm, would have sent the lightning coursing farther and stronger up his body, but the nerves in the fourth finger branch more before connecting back to the spine, dispersing the energy enough that when the sizzle and thud of his body hitting the floor are quickly followed by the sounds of him scrambling to get up.

The fur on his forearm caught fire, and rolling to extinguish it is his first move, but when he gets to his feet he begins to realize the extent of the damage. Even after escaping from L's clamped jaws and breaking the flow of lightning, his arm is singing with crackling, spasming pain. He tries to move his arm and instead of obeying his wishes the limb curls against his chest in an unnatural, tight, contorted pose. He can't use it, and any attempts to do so simply aggravate the burns on his skin and the tension in his muscles.

But there's no time to address it. There's no time to stop, or to spit insults or curses. The alarm rang, which meant he only had a few minutes to escape before Myr or perhaps Connor, or someone sent by the two of them, would show up and he did not intend to be here when they arrived. He snatches the box of fingers on his way to the gaping hole in the floor where a staircase should be. It was a two story jump. If he'd had use of both his arms it would have been easy, but with one carrying his precious cargo, and the other a useless twisted mess, he just has to fall and roll and weather the consequences.

To his surprise there are none. He springs up after hitting the ground without losing a step. He'll have time later to pick apart whether that was due to adrenaline or some shock absorbing power of his goat legs, but for now he doesn't bother questioning it, instead ducking under some collapsed debris, dropping down one more level into the basement, and heading out a shipping exit one block over.]

[hearthebell]

[Luck and fortune have graced Niles, all things considered. As vicious and inventive as L can be, those are powerful forces, and when they favor someone, truly? No amount of wit can outmatch them. It's the same fickle brand of fate that let a god of death fall in altruistic love with the woman who loved Light Yagami; it's a reminder that L is just a man, in the end, and can only control so many things, especially when his hands are literally tied.

Well. What's left of them, anyway. He falls back, spent and winded, gasping past the blood drowning his mouth and throat as Niles reels away, smoldering and seizing. It's by this point that he truly has tried everything; every spare drop of blood and magic has gone toward the purpose of killing Niles, and the chimera fucking lives. His vision blurs and dims as the beast rises, then vanishes through a hold in the darkness.]