![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
[OOC: Please take notice, this following post can make some a bit squeamish.]
His blade sliced slowly beneath the skin, Gallagher's eyes still horribly bright and alive. The knife had been a gift from Spock many years ago. It was used, evidently, to delicately slide beneath the scales of a fish and part the scales away from tender, succulent muscle as neatly as removing a pair of tight pants after a long day of work. It took some effort only because of the delicate procedure that was getting it off in one piece, but Pike was very good at it. After all, several of the vests he wore were made of carefully tanned human skin. It worked well in keeping people in line when they knew they could become your next garment. Pike gave the finest twist of his knife, skirting the blade just over the fine muscles of the upper bicep. Always start from the hands and feet and work inwards, because otherwise they lost too much blood to start with and would pass out far too quickly. After what they had attempted, Pike had no desire for their punishment to be over too quickly.
The four had chosen to strike when they thought he was at his weakest. It had been an exceedingly simple plan, which usually went the best in the end. His own first assassination had been nothing more than an approach from behind and a slice across the throat. They had surrounded him, and one had attacked with a very simple weapon. Truly, he had to give them credit for it. The taser had made his muscles scream as it glanced his skin, but he had seen the body coming up behind him. How? Their shadow along the wall had given them away. His attacker had hit the floor from where Pike had thrown him, but rapid recovery was difficult.
The punch had come at his kidney, sending him to the ground. Effective in the sheer amount of pain it produced, but it did not render completely. Pike drew in a tight breath, as much as the aching would allow him, and he pulled free a knife from either side of his vest. He stood up and pushed backwards without turning, driving both blades into flesh. He felt a spurt of blood against his neck, as intimate as a lover's breath, and he let the body fall as another attacker came. The faint whine of a phaser being turned on caught his attention and Pike ducked low, using the hilt of his knife to crack a knee cap before he turned and struck upwards with the other knife. It was a bare miss, slicing through clothing without the satisfaction of parting flesh.
It startled him out of his near trance when from behind him, where he sat in front of Gallagher, Pike heard a quiet whimper. From the positioning of it, he could tell who it was. Somehow, he had expected Sulu to break down with a sound like that during the first of his companion's death but to his surprise, and a certain pleasure in choosing his crew, Sulu had made no sound at all. Pike followed the trail of blood along the floor, where it was marked and smeared by his own movements. The trail had finally reached Sulu, where it was just barely brushing his chest. He had made sure to bind Sulu well, bound hand and foot then hand to feet, gagged as well. Sulu's babbling was the last thing he needed to hear, attempts to bride and caress his pride. They were useless gestures now, but one by one he would make sure that Uhura would have a very lasting hold on the crew. It would be some time before Sulu dared to attempt something like this, and when Pike was finished, no one would aid the helmsman in an attempt. Sulu had been difficult to bring down. He was an extremely skilled fighter, one few would cross, but he did not have the skill of years yet nor did he have the advantage of the nanoprobe-filled gloves. All it took was a single bare-handed touch for the probes to react to the agonizer he had originally had planted in the gloves in their first conception, and a pulse as strong as a taser had jolted through the helmsman. One quick strike to the temple had taken him down from there.
Pike stood, stretching out his legs, leaving Gallagher where he was. Flaying was a procedure that took time, and he would have liked to have taken more time to accomplish, but he was running on a schedule. He would be gone by tonight, with the last of his things in tact and hopefully McCoy's aid as well. McCoy was a tricky bastard, but he could be dealt with. He would have control of his sickbay like no doctor ever had while Uhura, and most likely Chekov, had control of a ship that would react as sweetly to their hand as a willing slave. His fingers caressed the remains of Chisulo's flesh. He had been dark-skinned in life, and his skin would hold behind that deep color for many, many years provided it was well taken care of. Gallagher was the exact opposite with the very white skin of the Irish-descended.
He walked over to Sulu and wiped his hand on Sulu's uniform before sliding his finger beneath the edge of the gag and tugging, "I almost think you would have preferred the death Willis got, where it lasted merely seconds. Now, now, almost your turn, no need to be impatient." He promised the helmsman quietly, his smirk as deadly as the blade in his hand.
"Pike you'll-" It was cut off as Pike forced the gag back between Sulu's teeth and tightened it.
"So impatient," Pike murmured, standing back up and walking over to Gallagher. It had been the Academy who had taught him the neat, quick motion to collapse the vocal cords and keep someone from speaking. He hardly needed to have people wondering about screams as they passed by the room, nor did he wish to hear them. While some highly encouraged more sound from their victims, it was hardly Pike's fetish. The only times he chose this particular method of killing was for those who attempted his assassination alone.
It took almost another three hours to finish the deed, until where Pike could run the broad palm of his hand across shiny wet muscle. He looked idly at the time, and decided it was time to clean up. The skins were washed, folded, and tucked neatly into a separate pack for later use. Sulu he left tied up in the pool of his conspirator's blood, the stink of the three dead bodies to keep him company. Pike was not worried about the discovery of what he had done; he would be gone long before anyone thought to come look for Sulu or could find a way into his quarters. He washed himself up, replacing the uniform he had sullied, and left the room without a backward look. He wondered if Sulu would keep his quarters afterwards or would switch to new ones.
His blade sliced slowly beneath the skin, Gallagher's eyes still horribly bright and alive. The knife had been a gift from Spock many years ago. It was used, evidently, to delicately slide beneath the scales of a fish and part the scales away from tender, succulent muscle as neatly as removing a pair of tight pants after a long day of work. It took some effort only because of the delicate procedure that was getting it off in one piece, but Pike was very good at it. After all, several of the vests he wore were made of carefully tanned human skin. It worked well in keeping people in line when they knew they could become your next garment. Pike gave the finest twist of his knife, skirting the blade just over the fine muscles of the upper bicep. Always start from the hands and feet and work inwards, because otherwise they lost too much blood to start with and would pass out far too quickly. After what they had attempted, Pike had no desire for their punishment to be over too quickly.
The four had chosen to strike when they thought he was at his weakest. It had been an exceedingly simple plan, which usually went the best in the end. His own first assassination had been nothing more than an approach from behind and a slice across the throat. They had surrounded him, and one had attacked with a very simple weapon. Truly, he had to give them credit for it. The taser had made his muscles scream as it glanced his skin, but he had seen the body coming up behind him. How? Their shadow along the wall had given them away. His attacker had hit the floor from where Pike had thrown him, but rapid recovery was difficult.
The punch had come at his kidney, sending him to the ground. Effective in the sheer amount of pain it produced, but it did not render completely. Pike drew in a tight breath, as much as the aching would allow him, and he pulled free a knife from either side of his vest. He stood up and pushed backwards without turning, driving both blades into flesh. He felt a spurt of blood against his neck, as intimate as a lover's breath, and he let the body fall as another attacker came. The faint whine of a phaser being turned on caught his attention and Pike ducked low, using the hilt of his knife to crack a knee cap before he turned and struck upwards with the other knife. It was a bare miss, slicing through clothing without the satisfaction of parting flesh.
It startled him out of his near trance when from behind him, where he sat in front of Gallagher, Pike heard a quiet whimper. From the positioning of it, he could tell who it was. Somehow, he had expected Sulu to break down with a sound like that during the first of his companion's death but to his surprise, and a certain pleasure in choosing his crew, Sulu had made no sound at all. Pike followed the trail of blood along the floor, where it was marked and smeared by his own movements. The trail had finally reached Sulu, where it was just barely brushing his chest. He had made sure to bind Sulu well, bound hand and foot then hand to feet, gagged as well. Sulu's babbling was the last thing he needed to hear, attempts to bride and caress his pride. They were useless gestures now, but one by one he would make sure that Uhura would have a very lasting hold on the crew. It would be some time before Sulu dared to attempt something like this, and when Pike was finished, no one would aid the helmsman in an attempt. Sulu had been difficult to bring down. He was an extremely skilled fighter, one few would cross, but he did not have the skill of years yet nor did he have the advantage of the nanoprobe-filled gloves. All it took was a single bare-handed touch for the probes to react to the agonizer he had originally had planted in the gloves in their first conception, and a pulse as strong as a taser had jolted through the helmsman. One quick strike to the temple had taken him down from there.
Pike stood, stretching out his legs, leaving Gallagher where he was. Flaying was a procedure that took time, and he would have liked to have taken more time to accomplish, but he was running on a schedule. He would be gone by tonight, with the last of his things in tact and hopefully McCoy's aid as well. McCoy was a tricky bastard, but he could be dealt with. He would have control of his sickbay like no doctor ever had while Uhura, and most likely Chekov, had control of a ship that would react as sweetly to their hand as a willing slave. His fingers caressed the remains of Chisulo's flesh. He had been dark-skinned in life, and his skin would hold behind that deep color for many, many years provided it was well taken care of. Gallagher was the exact opposite with the very white skin of the Irish-descended.
He walked over to Sulu and wiped his hand on Sulu's uniform before sliding his finger beneath the edge of the gag and tugging, "I almost think you would have preferred the death Willis got, where it lasted merely seconds. Now, now, almost your turn, no need to be impatient." He promised the helmsman quietly, his smirk as deadly as the blade in his hand.
"Pike you'll-" It was cut off as Pike forced the gag back between Sulu's teeth and tightened it.
"So impatient," Pike murmured, standing back up and walking over to Gallagher. It had been the Academy who had taught him the neat, quick motion to collapse the vocal cords and keep someone from speaking. He hardly needed to have people wondering about screams as they passed by the room, nor did he wish to hear them. While some highly encouraged more sound from their victims, it was hardly Pike's fetish. The only times he chose this particular method of killing was for those who attempted his assassination alone.
It took almost another three hours to finish the deed, until where Pike could run the broad palm of his hand across shiny wet muscle. He looked idly at the time, and decided it was time to clean up. The skins were washed, folded, and tucked neatly into a separate pack for later use. Sulu he left tied up in the pool of his conspirator's blood, the stink of the three dead bodies to keep him company. Pike was not worried about the discovery of what he had done; he would be gone long before anyone thought to come look for Sulu or could find a way into his quarters. He washed himself up, replacing the uniform he had sullied, and left the room without a backward look. He wondered if Sulu would keep his quarters afterwards or would switch to new ones.
