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.
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...
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.”
And just as suddenly as it had started, the jolts stopped. Audrey slumped in her chair, as far as her restraints would let her sink, anyway. Her breaths were sharp and ragged, eyes still squeezed shut as though afraid to open them. She was uncertain how long that shock had lasted, but it felt like hours. Her entire body tingled with phantom electricity, and she'd occasionally twitch as though she thought it was about to reignite.
“Hello, Audrey. Welcome.”
The voice was what finally got her to open her eyes. It was dark, there was some sort of camera, and then- her. Spectre. Her tired eyes widened in recognition, and she began to thrash her arms against their bindings.
"Wh-what the fuck is- Aaaaaahhhhhh!!"
She'd meant to sound aggressive, intimidating. But at that high pitch, there was no doubt how she really felt. It mattered little regardless once the chair resumed sending watts into her, her accompanying scream cutting off her question. Her body went stiff, convulsing as she absorbed the volts.
When they finally paused again, the redhead drew in a sharp gasp, the expansion of her lungs spitting a burning sensation through her chest. She slumped again. Her eyes, open this time, had begun to water, making seeing anything even more difficult that the poor lighting already had.
A buzzing in her ears similarly made hearing difficult, but she could tell Spectre was moving around. She felt the corners of her mouth tip upwards, realizing belatedly that she wasn't the one doing it. She tried to shake her head and growl as Spectre positioned her features, but she could barely turn her head.
“Or scared?”
As Spectre forced Audrey's eyes open, her face came into clear view even through the blur of the tears. Audrey scowled back in response, still struggling to regulate her breath.
A meow caught her off guard and for a moment Audrey thought she was losing it... until Spectre addressed them, which meant there was yet someone else in the room. Audrey, however, lacked the energy at the moment to lift and turn her head. What good would it do, anyway? If they were in on this, then it wasn't likely she'd be able to beg them for help.
A hand covered her mouth. Briefly, she entertained the notion of biting it, but by the time she'd processed the idea enough to move forward, the hand had already moved on.
"Now I've heard this loser brain is just coded to submit.”
Audrey's mouth hung open at that. In shock? In shame? Whatever it was, her expression did little to refute it. It took a disturbing amount of effort not to bite her lip and look away, even as fingers prodded her forehead.
"So how about you introduce me? Tell them what you know."
Her gaze shifted to the camera. She was being filmed... but why? Throughout all of this, just trying to get her bearings and her senses was taking considerable energy. She hadn't had any to devote to the questions of location or motive. What exactly did she know?
Audrey tried to speak but found her throat dry. She swallowed and tried again, trying not to sound like a frightened kitten.
"Y-you're Spectre. And you've... kidnapped me against my will." There. Mission 'not sound like a frightened kitten' was a fail, but If this was being broadcast to anyone, then that was her hope for rescue. "Wh-where are we? A-and what do you want with me?"
Spectre covered Audrey’s mouth with a hand when asked that last question. “For a guinea pig, you really do know a lot of words.” Her head lowered, turned to face Audrey in the chair. “If I hear so much as your breathing out of turn, I’ll make sure you forget all of them, do you understand me?” Spectre went silent, unblinking and staring at Audrey for any movement. In the background, there were the whorls of a generator humming around in a repetitive consistent loop. But further than that, there was nothing distinctive playing on Spectre’s ears to tell of any disturbance.
“Hm~Hm~” She straightened up, then walked idly to her stool diagonal from the laptop and chair, on the edge of the shot between the two. “I’ll give you this one thing. At the end of my answer, Dot will double the volts and I’ll press the button.” She didn’t look Dot’s way to direct her, instead, the favourite pink assassin in the entire Spectre network immediately started fixing the output with a turn of a few crude dials on a homebrew program. “What I want from you is personal.” Said Spectre, who now casually massaged the button in her hand while looking at it. “There’s somethin’… Inside me, that I think you can help me with.”
She got up, then took a seat on Audrey’s lap. “I have this thing. When I see someone like you, tied up on my device, making those faces, shouting, crying, asking their dumb fuckin’ questions — It makes me happy, yanno? I feel whole again.” Spectre took a finger and started adjusting their hair back towards the electrode.
“So I’m goin’ to choke, brutalize, maime, shock and extort anyone I want. You’ll wake up in a ditch with only the clothes on your back. Because—?” She got up from the chair, standing right in front of Audrey. “Be-caaause?” Then gave her a good kick in the shin.
Audrey had half a mind to try to bite the hand forcing her mouth shut. But the rest of her brain was processing the rest of Spectre's threat. Something told her that chewing on a finger probably wouldn't help improve her situation here. On top of that, she already had her own blood in her mouth, and the last thing she needed was a fresh rush of that coppery taste on her tongue.
More importantly was the sound of some kind of humming appliance somewhere behind which her gave her pause. She wondered vaguely what would happen if she got zapped while having Spectre's finger between her teeth. Would they both feel it? Would she involuntarily bite down, and possibly-
No, ew, gross, nevermind.
Her only response to the threat, then, was to narrow her eyes and glare.
Her expression shifted quickly back towards fear, however, at the mention of double voltage. Was that last setting the lowest? ...Probably. Why would they start it anywhere else? Regardless, it hurt like hell. How bad would double that be?
“What I want from you is personal. There’s somethin’… Inside me, that I think you can help me with.”
What the fuck did that mean? ...Was she actually a robot?
Audrey wiggled again as the ninja settled in her lap, her bare legs still sore from the beating she'd gotten prior, and the ninja's weight did not help that.
“I have this thing. When I see someone like you, tied up on my device, making those faces, shouting, crying, asking their dumb fuckin’ questions — It makes me happy, yanno? I feel whole again.”
Oh, okay, no, it was some... some philosophical thing. Maybe not a robot, but definitely off her rocker. There was no way this was legal. Audrey squirmed with fresh vigor, her gaze desperately darting towards the camera before her.
“So I’m goin’ to choke, brutalize, maime, shock and extort anyone I want. You’ll wake up in a ditch with only the clothes on your back. Because—?”
Her eyes went wide, mouth hanging open, heartbeat racing. What did that mean? Audrey's brain was still full of static and haze, and try as she might, she couldn't comprehend what she was being asked. And then a blow hit her shin, and she cried out, wincing. Still unsure of what ever Spectre was trying to coax from her, she blurted out the first thing that came to mind:
Spectre's brow raised like she just heard something ridiculous.
"Mmmm—no." Then she pressed the button, sending the second wave of electricity through Audrey's body. The chair hummed loudly like active tesla coils, with its raging arcs and buzzing that made anyone nearby have their hairs stand. The chair stopped after three seconds. "Very uncalled for." The button was pressed again. Another three second shock. "I put this all together, for you." She pressed the button again. Another three seconds. "You know how tedious it is building a torture device in a public stadium? In a geneva convention compliant country for that matter??"
A four second shock.
The internal answer was: not as hard as expected.
When you know your way around, talk confidently and with a stolen clearance card, then no normal employee is going to investigate a cute brunette and their prop-making skills to assemble a thematic throne for a wrestler's upcoming promo. At the very least, the three she talked to didn't. Producers had a fine idea of what sort of people they were courting in the league. It was only a matter of time before someone wanted to make a symbolic gesture by sitting on an execution device.
Even so, they were really-really-really-really annoying. To her, that was enough.
"Extremely." Then she pressed the button again. Three seconds. "So you should be thankful. Say thank you."
Another button press. This time, she didn't let off the trigger, feeling her forearm tense and lock in place. "Keep saying it. Look at the camera. Look at it. NOW, AUDREY!"
The moment the words left her mouth, Audrey knew she'd made a mistake. That mistake had been fighting Spectre in the first place, but as they say, something something hindsight and all.
The Robot's reaction didn't offer any consolation, either, clearly beyond unimpressed with the redhead's outburst. Audrey couldn't imagine what kind of response she'd been expecting; was she supposed to just roll over and condone all the insane shit Spectre had just listed out?
Probably. She was insane, after all. Evidenced by the response Audrey got for her lip - another zap. The redhead let out another piercing scream which was, as before, mostly drowned out by the buzzing in the air. Then the electricity stopped, and Audrey slumped, her chin coming to rest against her chest as she gasped for breath.
And then a fresh jolt lanced through her unsuspecting body! Her head stayed down, her eyes squeezing shut this time as she wailed, hands clamping down so hard against the armrests that her fingers hurt.
"Nnnh-nnyaaaaaaaa!!!"
When that round ended, Audrey looked up towards Spectre, only just realizing she'd been talking in between her assaults. Right now she was going off about... the difficulty of building a torture device? As if she expected Audrey to be sympathetic to the effort she went through? Audrey struggled to breathe, mouth hanging open, and though she attempted to form words for a response, she wasn't given the time; yet another shock rocked her to her core, her back going rigid against the seat, fingers again clutching the rests too hard as her body vibrated in place.
By the time the shock ended, the redhead was blinking tears out of her eyes as her head slumped again, her chest heaving with the effort of drawing in oxygen. Her body continued to tremble, but whether from the anxiety of enduring repeated electrical assaults, or from the phantom tingles she now continued to feel even when the device wasn't active, she couldn't tell.
She wasn't sure exactly when the next shock began. All she knew was that she'd started screaming again. Or was she crying? Somewhere in between. Her arms and legs jerked, thrashing against their restraints, her body trembling more violently with each successive shock.
Nor could she tell when exactly the shock had stopped, only that her wailing had melted into hyperventilating. Each loud, gasping inhale burned her lungs, but she was on autopilot, drawing in air while she was able, not knowing when the next opportunity might come.
"Keep saying it. Look at the camera. Look at it. NOW, AUDREY!"
"Wh... wuh?"
She hadn't even bothered to attempt to look up this time. She had no idea of what she was expected to be saying or doing here. Would it matter if she had? Spectre was doing this more than just for the thrill; the cameras were there for a reason. But none of it mattered; the cameras, the ninja robot, nothing but the static in the air and in her veins.
Audrey had no sense of time, but her throat was beginning to feel sore from all her wailing. She had the vague sense that this shock was lasting longer than those previous, but her brain was full of that same static, she could focus on nothing else.
Spectre had wanted her to say something. How could she speak, when she was so busy screaming? Even as the electricity coursed through her, she attempted to move her mouth to form words, but only one thing came out as she squinted towards the camera, only barely comprehending what she was looking at.
This was so beautiful! Mona-lisa with a moustache grade. Jittering, screaming, and tears. A triple whammy gift that hit like honey on the tongue without the calories. Her chest bubbled up with this tingling giddiness that almost made her tip-tap and stomp her happy feet.
(Look at the smoke coming from her hair!! Oh-my-fuckin’-rat-infested-Christmas, yeeesss!! I am the new tesla!!)
The smile underneath that mask was ear-to-ear. Her thoughts burrowed to soak up the rest--twitchy fingers, bulging eyes, and wobbly tits. Butterflies tickled Spectre's toes, making them curl inside her boots. She felt she could lift concrete slabs with this strength, hold them up and shake them with her bare hands till they became grains again.
Then she stopped for a moment, releasing the button. "You're not saying thanks at all, are you?"
Well, not if you count the 'w-wuh!' and all the 'AAAAAAAAAAAH' and 'KYAAAAAAGHHH!!'. It was too far from thank you, unfortunately. She didn't even get the THUH part of thank you. A seriously pathetic effort. More braindead than a plant that didn’t photosynthesize. Why—she started to feel this girl didn’t even get the script or was reading a different one. “Welp.”
Time to fix that. She pressed the button one last time, hard—as if that would double the output. For a while longer, the machine whirled, then cracks, pops and a !!PA-BLOOEY!! went the generator that was running this thing. Her eyes closed. Unfortunately, Audrey would be getting rest and the idea was already making her viscerally nauseous.
“Dot.” Her head turned. “She broke it.” SIGH. “She choked—and now all that whining has mucked up my cables. My machine.” She huffed, quietly, remembering that she had a spare one brought just in-case.
“Make her more agreeable.” In other words: keep them donating.
Spectre would walk past Audrey, following the cable and starting to disappear into the shadows around the chair.
Last edited by Monsy on Mon May 05, 2025 7:12 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Dot, leaning against the wall just off-camera, watched until Spectre had receded into the smoke. Even through her mask, the chair's death throes had an unhealthy, sour smell.
Then, there was Audrey alone, finally and truly cooked, hanging limp in the chair, until the Lynx loped on screen. She paused beside Audrey, squatting with her hands folded between her legs. If Audrey had looked up at that moment, she might have seen her own face reflected in the black sheen of the empty LED screen.
Dot's fingerless gloves cupped her chin, lifting her face. With her free hand, she reached into one of the many pockets that covered her matte-black onepiece and drew out a white sanitary wipe, which she used to clean the tears and the sweat and the grime off Audrey's cheeks.
"I bet you're wondering right now—why me?" Dot's voice was feminine but full of gravel, despite the synthetic tinge at its edge. She could see, through the projection of the stream's chat in the bottom-left corner of her mask, that her patrons did not care for this intermission. Yeah, well. Eat grass, fuck faces.
Dot pointed with one arm and used her grip on the girl's to direct her face the same way—towards the laptop and its embedded camera lens. "Fun fact!" Dot squeezed the girl to her side. "Did you know your matches have above. Average. Views?! Yyyyyyes ma'am, our estimates show that your name on the ticker-line increases viewer engagement almost FORTY! PERCENT!!" As she sang the words, her screen lit up: 40%! It said in bold pink font. 40%!! Now it was black cut from pink. WOW!! The word zoomed in, then out of the screen like a yoyo. "I wonder how many of them followed you here. Probably some, huh? I mean." By now, her screen had settled into its default smirking kitten. She combed her fingers, affectionately, through her sweat-soaked, frazzled hair. "This is what you're good at."
Dot held Audrey like that for a beat, savoring whatever remonstration or half-baked comeback she managed. But she waited, at least until she was sure the athlete of the hour was conscious and paying attention.
Then, with a sudden movement, Dot hopped out of her squat. She strode across the room, disappeared off-screen but wheeled back seconds later dragging a metal baseball bat.
"ALRIGHT SHIT-STAINS I see your whining!" She tossed the bat. CLANG! It ricocheted off the chair's metal leg, barely missing Audrey's ankle. It clattered at her feet. Then Dot had a permanent marker. From where? No one saw, but when she rested her knee on Audrey's thigh, grabbed her shoulder and pressed her back to the chair and pressed its thick felt tip into the fabric of her top, it bled pink.
ONE.
Right over the left tit—circled.
"You've had your fun for free—now I wanna see SOME CASH!" TWO. Audrey's right tit. Also circled.
Three was the gut — a real crowd-pleaser, to judge from the comments — while four and five marked her elbows. Dot moved fast and rough, and if Audrey got in the way, a knee to her jaw put a pause on that bit of noise.
Six and seven—the knees. "Hate to see these get cracked~" said Dot, as she drew a small heart next to seven. "Pain's one thing, but bone doesn't always mend right, yanno? Now—scooooOOOCH!"
Scooch was code for spread your legs when Dot pushes, because number eight was her hot, sweat-drenched groin. Neither her skirt nor the panties made for the best surface. Instead, Dot tore the skirt and wrote 8 on her inner thigh—but with a big ol' looping arrow pointed up into her pussy.
"TEN SECONDS from when I start the counter, all you dogs better start PAYING UP," said she as she lovingly circled the nine she'd just scrawled on Audrey's forehead. "'Cause the number with the most cash—that's what gets smashed. Oh." Dot paused, capping, then tossing the marker. Her mask tilted towards the camera. "And if any of you fuckfaces don't want to see a cow butchered..." She leaned down, plucking up the bat, which she let swing as she strode towards the camera. 10 appeared, frozen, on her mask. "We want your money too. Vote ten, and maybe she'll get a break."
The 10 in the center of the mask filled the high-resolution screen, cold and static as a midnight traffic light. Then, she backed away to stand beside Audrey. Her bat scraped over the concrete.
10
9
8
Dot glanced at Audrey without shifting her mask. Beneath the screen, she smirked.
"I'd start begging them for 10, if I were you."
Last edited by Malkavia on Wed May 07, 2025 4:19 am, edited 4 times in total.
Guess they wanted me to show off what I do
But I couldn't care any less to show you
Cause though I'm a hare, I've got nothing to prove
Though I'm a hare, I've got nothing to prove --Madilyn Mei
