stuff us in boxes that's where you want us

cardboard is boring, we brought our matches - look how it burns

Harley's eyes shifted slightly to the left to notice Tetradore's indifferent shrug, questioning if they were one in the same. Valuable asset and thorn in the wicked bitch of the west's side were one in the same, that mere statement alone was one she could agree with. "Pretty much... If I play it right." Already her mind was working in overtime, creating scenario after scenario that blurred together into muddied chaos in her head. Why was she talking to him like they were buddies? There was nothing buddy buddy about this damn moment or him. Harley was wrapped up in rope like a fucking worm monster mummy thing on her way to the very mouth of hell itself. She could feel it like a knife in her heart, twisting, as that anxiety threatens to flatten her. She nearly groans to herself, but she doesn't dare let that sound leave her lips. Swallowing it deep down she looks at her options. She was not the victim here. Yeah, she looked a lot like a victim, she was pretty much being kidnapped against her own will, dragged to the devil's playground where who knew what sort of horrors waited for the spitfire when she got there.

This meeting was a long time coming and she was so damn glad it wasn't sooner. At the very least she could now say she was done running. Done trying to avoid this shit show that seemed so determined to come at her head on like a runaway mac truck no matter what she did. She was pretty much fate's bitch and she had no choice but to take it. So tonight, ready or not, she dealt with this bullshit once and for all, even if it killed her. She clenched her jaw tightly, out of sheer determination, nodding to those unspoken words that seem to resonate loudly within her mind. Game on.

At the very least Tetradore seemed willing to allow the music flood the entire car, loudly. The song was one she could recognize, who would have thought. At least he didn't listen to Justin Bieber in his spare time. It was almost sweet release to hear that music flood the car so loudly, chasing back the surge of her own thoughts that refused to keep from clawing at her that entire car ride. She began singing, getting lost in that moment, willing to get swept away from anything else, at least for now. The speakers were far better than her own. What a difference quality made. If she survived she would need to upgrade. Whilst she sang like a little bird, she could hardly give a care for Tetradore's ears in the process. She was decent enough singer, sorta. Yeah, she was no fucking opera prodigy in the making or anything like that, but she could let that melody rip if she so chose. Not that you could hear her well under the steady pounding thrall of the booming music, it was just how she wanted it. It was almost too easy to shoot Tetradore the occasional death glare while he drove, just to remind him she loathed him so, not that he noticed, his face pretty much distant as an inanimate object.

She clung to those final lyrics with an almost hopeless grasp, potentially last song she ever heard again. But she knew that song would help her get through this because she decided it would. She would play that song along with many others in her head until this stupid night was over, if only to keep her own resolve as strong as the steel walls she forged to keep the world at bay. She hummed and sang quietly all the way into Risque's god damn torture chamber that seconded as an office, she was sure of it. On top of it, she was trapped in the arms of fucking Tetradore of all fucking people. She wanted to walk her own damn self to her own execution, not like some god damn helpless damsel.

Within that office she took it all in, she had never seen anything like it. That's exactly what this room had to be, a certifiable torture chamber. There were silver chains that gleamed menacingly in the low light of the room, while Risque looked even more pissed off than her usual odious self. It was as though the world was nothing but a nuisance to her, even when she barely looked up to notice Tetradore had waltzed into her office. She wanted to say no, don't put me on that fucking desk. Wriggling a bit as if to display her protest, not that it would do her any good. She would have rather be tossed onto the floor with a carpet of poisonous snakes. But that smug man did it anyways. A particularly irked expression found Harley's face then, but it paled in comparison to that rage that boiled within Risque's hateful but admittedly pretty face.

Harley hardly wanted to remember the last time she had seen her, vehemently not wanting to reminisce about anything her horrifying past had to offer her. So, she focused on that satisfying sound of knocking shit off of Risque's undeniably massive desk. It was purely self-indulgent, but damn it felt good.

Risque was dragging on about some stupid missing lamp and Harley had never seen a more ridiculous scene in her life. Who the fuck lost their shit over a damn lamp? A lunatic, that's who. She barked some very obscure orders at Tetradore who responded much like an angsty teenage boy. It was a very strange angle to be watching all this unfold, her violet eyes follow each of them like watching a ping pong match. At the very least she was ignored, for now. Maybe they could just fight with each other and she could be ignored indefinitely.

As if on cue, Risque's icy stare shot downward, honing right upon that fragrant wound atop her forehead. Bashing Tetradore with her forehead, at the time, seemed like a great idea until now. Especially as that vicious woman took a probing finger, deftly reopening that slow but desperately healing the wound. It hurt more this way than before, but it was nothing in comparison to what she had felt actually getting the injury in the first place. That sudden recoil from Tetradore's touch was nothing in comparison to this moment. In fact, she jerked so hard that her butt somehow ended up pressed into one of the buttons of that laptop that began to make quite the alarming dinging sound. But even then, Risque made no movement to stop it. It was utterly disturbing watching how she brought her blood to her lips, that very action repulsed her and made her infinitely pissed off at the same time. If only these binds were gone, she thought. But even then it was hardly a fair fight. But it was better to go out fighting, then like this.

It was unfortunate and fortunate that Harley's words hardly failed her, even though they barely seemed to make a dent except for irritating the kitten queen. It probably was not the wisest thing she had ever done, but she hardly wanted to keep silent. She would take any victory she could, even if it meant so very little in the grand scheme of things. The frantic beeping sound never ceased, flooding every corner of the office as Risque chastised Tetradore for not putting a gag on her. She grinned, pleased with herself that she was getting through that icy resolve. But she most certainly did not like the sound of hanging her up. No that did not sound good at all. Her limbs already throbbed and ached, the friction of those bindings making her very skin raw from all her squirming. Worst of all, they hardly loosened, only seemed to grow more restrictive as the time wore on.

Before she could open her mouth she is scooped up once more in Tetradore's arms. "What are you afraid what a little human can do to you?" She spat, not at the man carrying her but at Risque, with more venom she thought she was capable of now. "This is overkill." She grumbled afterward to no one in particular, rolling her eyes, hardly wanting to be shackled in this office so she could pick her apart however she deemed fit. Her words died for a moment watching as that silver burned Tetradore's fingers, he barely made a face, merely continuing his order like a mindless bot. It was eerie to watch.

When he walked away, Harley tested those binds, but they were solid, too inhumanely strong and with the ropes and this, she was hopeless. Tetradore plopped into the couch on the sidelines like he had front row seats to the show of her own demise. This is not how she envisioned dying.

But we so rarely get the choice of how we die, unless you were to take it into your hands but Harley had far too much pride to ever end her own life. It was Risque's sudden approach that has the girl bracing, her eyes that perfect mask of violet flame. Hate courses through her veins as she prepares for what is to come, whatever what that may be. "You can torture me all you want.. but you can't control me." Her voice was oddly calm, but laced with the sheer determination stemmed from some internal strength. It was perhaps the worst thing she could say to the ethereal woman who now stood before her while she hung, suspended face to face with the embodiment of evil. Most would dare to look away, but not Harley, she stared that callused monster right in the eye with that blood dripping down her face, the complete picture of remarkable resilience. This was the beginning of the end, she could feel it.

Harley Westward