Tied & Shocked — A Spectre Livestream EP. 1 ( for Thurman )

[Monsy]

19:58

Following the events of: The kidnapping of Audrey Trovita came a social media storm. Circulating videos about the moment, the first appearance of Dot and the QR code pasted on the Titantron to close the show.

That code spawned a link to LAW’s front page with Spectre’s insignia plastered at the top, then below a stream box with the time. Now spreading like wildfire. Curiosity spread as intended. Speculations developed. On one end, they said, “This is just part of some angle! Right?” “They really expect us to care about some stream?” “This is a nothing burger.” Then on the other end, “Did I just witness a kidnapping?” “Where is the police??” “This is insane! Doesn’t LAW have security?” “I’m so tuning in.”

19:59
LAW Arena — Mechanical Room

Spectre’s impromptu film set was between blocks of ventilation pipes, panels and equipment. She was seated on a stool, one foot up, the other hanging over. A cigarette in her mouth, she puffs, then nudges her head sideways. Dot moves up a laptop sitting on a station, its camera pointed at Audrey Trovita tied to a home-built electric chair. A long thick bundle of power cables ran from the back to a distant generator thrumming, surrounded by three car batteries with jumper cables and inverters.

Once Dot locks the cart, she snatches the cigarette, crushing it and making her boss sigh. Dot replaces it with a hand-held button trigger for the chair. Spectre then taps the spacebar to start stream.

20:00

A film lamp on a bipod flicks on, pointed at Audrey for a dim focus. The shot around her was left dark.

“Let's get started.”

She presses the button.

The chair makes a long hummmmm. Electrodes sizzle to deliver a truck-load of alternating current. The sound was that of a malfunctioning box TV.

BuzzzZzzzZZZZzzzZZzzz…

[ThurmanMermanPlx]

The moments immediately following her match were a blur to Audrey. She'd been only half conscious as she left the arena, unsure of how she was even able to walk after that beatdown. As best she could recall (were she conscious, of course), she'd been intercepted - had she even gotten off the ramp and made it backstage? - by some new unfamiliar pink cat person, and the next thing she knew, her body had completely locked up on her, limbs going stiff, and the world went black.

Her first moments of consciousness that followed would be captured by the camera pointed at her in her new seat and broadcast to the world. The stream would start with a bang, with the long hum soon drowned out by a loud scream as the chair Audrey had been strapped to pumped electricity through her. Clearly awake now, Audrey couldn't open her eyes to take in her new surroundings, and the current surging through her kept her, for the moment, from realizing she'd been caught. All she knew was the searing, jolting pain sizzling throughout her entire battered body!

Her body vibrated with the surge, chest bouncing tantalizingly in her top, her limbs unable to really thrash around due to the restraints around her wrists and ankles. Her fingers curled around the edge of the armrest, screams echoing around the space, the redhead completely unaware of the rest of the world around her...

[Monsy]

She watched the girl writhe with the face of looking over a beautiful overgrowth on-top of a cliff, soaking in beauty of the sun—her electrodes, in this case, turned her into a fuckin’ death metal guitar. A challenge is what it was. Scream louder than what her ears can handle, then it’ll stop. What was her diagnosed threshold? Fifty, decibels? Sixty? This shout? Probably over a hundred. She knew because with her modified mask, she can hear that buzzing high-frequency scream open a cut in her ear-drum and start to poke, annoy, make her lift shoulder and—

—ZZZzzt!

The chair was off.

Ten seconds. She counted.

Now, Audrey would get her ten seconds. To sit there and jitter. Break a sweat. Wilt in the chair, yell again. Whatever would occupy her time, Spectre counted it exactly before saying, “Hello, Audrey.” Spectre got off her stool, rolled her shoulders and walked across the shot, ending up at the opposite arm of the chair, looking down at her and feeling empty beyond the hunger she had to press the button a second time. “Welcome.” The formalities made her smile beneath the mask. AIn’t this silly?

BZZZZZZZZZZ—

No.

—ZZZZZZZZT!

Five seconds. Stop. Spectre with front-row seats and this close to burning skin couldn’t help but find a sense of achievement in her chest. That everything was coming together so nicely. She walked behind the girl, grabbed her face from both sides and began to pull up her smile with two index fingers.

“How are we feeling today? Happy?”

Then the fingers pushed down. “Sad?”

Two fingers press on the portion of the brow closest to the nose. “Angry?”

Suddenly, with a pair of thumbs and indexes, she pries open Audrey’s eyes. Spectre comes around to peep into both, her own stare wide and cat-like, two inches from the face. “Or scared?” She asks, softer before letting their reaction answer, then silence to place the period.

A ping came from the laptop: a kitten’s meow…

A DONATION!

“Dot.”

Dot wheeled the cart forward, then tilted the camera back, aligning it to their centre with Spectre’s head peeking over Audrey’s shoulder.

"Don't look at them. Your only concern is here." Spectre’s hand went over Audrey’s mouth. “Which means you don't speak, unless prompted. Nor will you think.” Then came off. “—Well, you won't have much brain left anyway." She smiled, then continued, "Now I've heard this loser brain is just coded to submit.”

Flick. Flick-flick. To the forehead.

"So how about you introduce me? Tell them what you know."

Spectre dangled the trigger and its cable in front of Audrey, presenting to the audience. “Go on.”