Season 11.5 [Rewrite: Continuation]

Success 1.5

(A/N: So.....I would say content warning, but I already said it, so, I mean, idk. But this was just a side short that happened, so you can read it if you like. And content warning)

He melted into the corrosion without another word, his abhorrent disgust replaced with a sweet tange of flavor.

"This'll be fun," he poked at the man in the center. The man was bound by rope, his mouth gagged and arms flailing at a tie that was locked onto the ceiling.

There was no room for escape, and as the door shut behind him, any sign of freedom was lost. Frantic, he cried, streams of tears running down his already-naked body.

Az chortle a hyena's cry, his eyes feasting at the prey before him. "There are two options: confess everything you know and die a, semi-peaceful death," he complained in a whining tone at that idea. "Or, the hard way. You refuse to speak, and I torture you until you do. What'll it be?"

He ripped the tape off his mouth, a slight hiss at the pain. "Pick."

"I will never sell out my friends," he whimpered with a choking sob at the upcoming event. Instead of distress, sadness, or a pint of annoyance, his smile only widened, the hyena cackling at his choice.

"Good. It'll make this," he let his hand trail across the cheek of the man, the man flinching and flailing at the contact. "A lot more fun for me."

Az kicked him straight in the nuts, a howling shout of pain reverberating in the room. As he rattled at the chains to try and comfort himself, Az's hand embraced the razor edge of the kusarigama.

"I will not let you perish until my contact gleans said details from you," he cleverly mastered the art of the blade, his eyes dining on the struggles of the victim. "So I will keep you alive to the best of my abilities. If you begin to perish, well, I have ways to keep you alive."

"Please. Have mercy," he begged for his life. Az strolled over to him and yanked a fist ull of his hair. The man let out a quick shout as Az brought him to his eye level.

Wolfish blue twinkled at the deer beneath, "I love it when they beg."

He dug the blade straight into his testicles, an animalistic screech bursting in the room. Az licked his lips in ecstasy before ripping it out.

The dying screams were a song to his heart as he threw the blade into his abdomen. The man wretchedly twisted his body to try and break free before Az slipped across into the corner of the room.

"Out of everyone I've had fun with," there was a chirp of sadistic glee to that information. "I believe everyone has shared one aspect."

Nothing but whimpers and moans cried out in the room as the victim flailed to be free. "Everyone dislikes burning alive. And while I've never personally partook in it before, I'm sure you can perhaps describe how it feels?"

He set the kusarigama aside, a match with gasoline in his hands. Sobs and cries banged in the air as the man wailed over the agony of his fate.

Az paused, a hand skipping over to the prisoner's face. Wretched tears were skimming as dew on grass, and he wiped it off and licked it.

"Lovely," he commented as his hand traveled back to the gasoline tank and match. Az lavishly dressed the man as a goose on Thanksgiving, many large heapings of the liquid plastered across the grieving soul.

He lit the match, his eyes lit in amusement and enjoyment.

"Pl-please," the man trembled as he noticed the flame. "Ple-please, no, no. No, no, no!" He wailed at the top of his lungs.

"Tell me," Az ordered, the match a hair from the man's chest. "The location of your allies and friends."

"No, no. No, I can't." He rasped as he writhe in the chains. Az sneered with joy in his eyes.

"Then suffer." He dropped the match on his head, a human torch alive.

There was an inhuman scream on his throat as he skin lit aflame with gasoline. Rows of flesh were kindled alive, nerves burned to crisp as he let out an agonizing wail.

Az cackled above it all, love fueling his soul as the room mixed with laughter and wails. He screamed, the man desperately wriggling to be free from the prison cell as the flames scorched his skin.

"I can't let you die," Az smiled as he flooded the man with a fire extinguisher. The man trembled for relief as Az raised it to his head and beat him to the side.

"Talk." There was no response, and the grinned was only exacerbated.

Oh, how he loved his little playthings. The more resilient they were, the more enjoyable it was.

So he beat him, his skull halfway cracked over for him to see pink, he beat him, enough blood to paint the room a different color. He beat him, his body mangled and arms crumpled in different patterns like a paper a child folded too many times. He beat him, over and over and over and over as nothing but cries and wails filled his soul.

How many more times was he to fold this little experiment? How many times was this hardy, sturdy little soul about to persist? How many broken bones and ruptured blood vessels, how many colors was the man to have before he died?

Purple, black, red, and blue were already on, the man nothing but a drawing with too much access to crayons. Az cackled, the man's screams now fading out with the amount of blood filling up and damaging his lungs.

But oh, it wasn't his time. Not yet. So he tore the man closer, nothing now but a soul ready to depart from its lost body.

And healed it.

As they say, jump up, kick back, whip around, and spin.