JDL | Com Ivanova, 'Ennui' - "The Hanging Tree" PT III

Posted on Thu Apr 16th, 2015 @ 6:04am by Admiral Rochelle Ivanova & Commander Logan Grant, PhD.
Edited on on Sun Apr 19th, 2015 @ 4:59am

2,591 words; about a 13 minute read

Mission: Ennui

WARNING: The following log contains extremely graphic content of a violent nature and may not be suitable for all readers. Please use discretion before attempting to read this and be aware that the content may not be safe for reading while at work etc.













"You know, Rochelle, there's one thing I enjoy more than watching you break," Tr'Bak reveled with a chuckle, tickled to pieces by hearing such a strong woman beg, "and that's watching you carry my unborn children.” He added as he kicked one of her feet aside and parted her silken thighs with his knee.

“GRANT THEM PEACE!” Rochelle screamed through her tears and the searing hot sensation of his next affliction against her body, struggling to keep the man from taking her as his own for what was perceived as yet another time. She begged for him to end the suffering of those he held, begged for him to release her heart to Elysium instead of forcing them to watch this new act of contrition as she dug her nails into the table and bucked to try and get away. Anything. Any hope. She’d have taken it.

And then there was calm.

Tr’Bak was gone. The prisoners… Gone. In fact, the cells themselves had disappeared completely and a strange new sense of serenity washed over the dungeon. The watcher couldn’t watch any longer and couldn’t allow what was about to transpire to come to fruition. “It’s over.” They said, peering through blinking eyes through the darkness.

The feeling of Tr’Bak's robes between her legs, and the burning of his insistent clawing at her thighs, were the first things Rochelle felt disappear. She didn't hear him step away, didn't hear him chuckling, and the more she blinked the more she realized her eyes were still open and the three men were really gone. She swallowed a sob, whimpering as she forced her head to look from side to side. Nothing. No doors. No cells. No Centurions… No Tr’Bak. “What?” She forced herself to ask. Still tied down, her range of vision was limited. She could hear the strange disembodied voice, but couldn't see where it came from.

Q was forced to take a human form again, this time in the way of a nurse wearing uniform straight out of an old World War II flick. She smiled almost apologetically, her blond hair curled up and back away from her face as she approached the shackled, naked woman. The Commodore was a coveted creature, one so many men used as night time fodder for fantasies and dreams alike. People loved her, and that was what had drawn the Q like a moth the day she’d, almost quite literally, exploded onto the scene with Landon Neyes there to to play catch.

That had been two or three years ago. Time was irrelevant to the immortal creature, but nevertheless, it had been magic ever since and a sheer delight to a being like ‘her’ who watched others out of sheer boredom. It had nearly killed them to sit on their hands and not exploit their omnipotent powers to flex the Vindicator and her crew into, and out of, situations. Nightmares… Nightmares, they’d decided, would be an acceptable allowance – and they’d gotten the idea from the Commodore’s rough sleeping patterns. “I said it’s over. You've given me what I’ve come to see, anything beyond that is just… Well.. It’s unnecessary and I don’t do unnecessary. “ The nurse shrugged and set alight on the other end of the table, just shy of Rochelle’s nose. “Why?”

"Wha..." Rochelle stammered, sucking in a deeper breath as she tried to still her trembling cries. "What you you mean why? Why are you do-- Where's my father? Where did you take Landon and Almar?" She rifled off, demanding answers as the strange woman in the strange uniform hiked her hip and sat on the sullied table in front of her. "Who are you?" She all but snarled. Something still wasn't adding up, and now she was more confused than ever. If it were a nightmare, she'd have awoken screaming by now, made amends, and been back in bed reading. This... Wasn't a nightmare. It wasn't unlike anything she'd ever seen or ever dreamed. It was real. As real as the freckles on her face, and she was certain of it even if it failed to click.

"They're safe. I can't say that they're all happy, but I can say that they're all warm, clean, comfortable, and... Well two of them are asleep. One of them is pacing. That's an entirely different topic of discussion, and I'm not getting into it." The nurse replied flippant. "If I uncuff you, do you promise not to attack me? I'll even be nice and give you clothing." She offered, bending to lean on her elbow and study the woman's face up close. Yes. She was truly beautiful. In every scenario, Q had marveled at the way the redhead seemed to light up the very room she'd been held in. Even in real life she was a force to be reckoned with and one to appreciate. It was a shame to hurt her, even in a fantasy. Sorrow... There was that feeling again. Studying the humanoids were making the Q weak - or was it strong? Were people stronger for their emotions? Was it the fact that Rochelle cared so deeply and felt so freely that made her so resilient? More questions, not enough answers. "What do you say?" She grinned and waggled her brows, waiting to see what choice the Commodore would make.

Confusion. Complete and utter confusion. Rochelle's heart continued to thunder in her chest, refusing to slow down as she became certain that she was still being toyed with and strung along. Another glance around the dark and dreary room told her that she was, indeed, alone with this new... Person. Her head turned to give the nurse a wild-eyed sidelong glance, weighing her options and flexing once again against her binds. "You say they're safe?"

"I do."

"Not here?"

"Nope. Never been here so to speak."

"Who are you?"

"Don't worry about it. Just consider me a very special friend and nothing more."

Rochelle regarded the blonde a moment longer, her nostrils flaring as she tried to suck more air into her tired and weary lungs. In the position she was held in, gravity was unkind to her ribs. They ached tirelessly with each and every breath she tried to take, denying her a decent deep one. "Fine." She nodded, "I won't attack you.

"Promise?" The Q asked, raising one dark blonde brow.

"You have my word." The Commodore nodded and shuffled her feet, trying to take pressure off her aching knees and hips. The next time she saw Vrith Tr'Bak he was going to die. Procedures and regulations could be damned, he was going to die.

With the lazy snap of their fingers, the watcher grinned and released the pretty Phoenix from her cage. True to their word they not only dressed her, but removed the bruises and the whip lashes, opting for a plush white terry robe and house slippers to cover the redhead's curvaceous form even if covering it seemed like such a waste. It didn't make sense to the Q why humanoids wore clothes at all when some of them were true works of art. Da Vinci himself would have wept to sculpt the fire haired Goddess, and knowing old Leonardo personally, they were certain of it. "Now will you tell me why?"

Rochelle stepped away from the table quickly, practically throwing herself back and away from the sadistic piece of furniture. It burnt her. Scorched along her skin wherever it touched her and she wouldn't soon forget what it was or what it represented. Bewildered, she lifted her head high and squared her shoulders as she regarded her so-called savior with a heavy amount of suspicion. "Why what?"

The Q laughed. Not in pity or amusement, but rather amazement as they watched the Commodore steady and rally herself to the charge. "You're a piece of work, you know that? Thousands and thousands of years, millennia really, and you're the first I've ever seen quite like you." They grinned, wagging a finger at her as they slid from the table and began to approach the firebrand. "Why did you beg for them to be killed?" She asked at last.

"I didn't beg for them to be killed, I begged for them to be released from their suffering." A wary set of eyes followed the nurse as she approached, and Rochelle kept herself rooted firmly against the muddy floor. "Because that was the only hope for them to find peace." She replied, tipping her chin in sheer defiance. "I don-- I didn't want them to suffer anymore. It wasn't fair. They deserve better." The strength from her voice slowly faded, revealing the true undercurrent of hurt and worry as it lurked just around the corner of her psyche, "I didn't want to betray them further."

"I see." Said the Q, rubbing their own chin in thought. It meant little to them, but they'd often see the humanoids do it as if it helped bestow clarity to their thoughts. It was a farce. "So you wanted them to die because they were living in constant pain?" They asked slowly but certainly starting to understand. Humanoids put animals to sleep that were suffering but often allowed their own kind to writhe in pain for months and years from afflictions that even modern medicine couldn't cure. It had never made much sense to the watcher why they'd euthanize a dog for having cancer, but would prolong the suffering of a human with the same terminal affliction rather than allowing them 'peace' as the Commodore had put it. "Because it was the kindest choice?"

"Because I love them and knew that even if they were set free into the world, they'd still be suffering. The world presented..." Rochelle licked her lips and swallowed the heavy knot in her throat, "Isn't one that's condu-- Look... What the Hell is this all about?" Her legs begged for her to crab step away from the strange, out of place woman, but she held fast. On her eyes moved to scour the nurse's face, trying to place together the scattered and heavily shuffled pieces of a puzzle that continuously didn't seem to come together or make sense.

"Love..." Q replied, drawing out the word in a breathy sort of dreamy sigh. "There's that word. It seems like love and fear, two four letter monosyllabic words mind you, are uniquely bound to one another. Wouldn't you agree?" They asked, but didn't wait for a response before throwing their hands up in the air excitedly, "My question is does fear cause love or does love cause fear? Don't answer it because you simply can't, but that's the reason why I've come here today and done what I've done." They were ranting now, fast and almost frantic as their eyes searched the blue depths of the Phoenix's and they beamed a high wattage smile. "Well.. Actually... I've been here for years, but who's counting? Not me! No. No I stopped counting days and years and just sat back and enjoyed this little... Well.. Whatever it is. Your life. His life. Their life. Lives. I've watched lives and let me tell you something. It's incredibly difficult to be told look but don't touch, isn't it? I mean... You know all about it with that Landon fellow and you managed to find the loophole where touching was allowed."

As the hands flew skyward, so did Rochelle's head. It instinctively was tossed back, wet hair flying, and to the side to avoid collision from any would be haphazardly thrown punch or hit. The action wasn't meant to connect, she realized, simply convey excitement. It was her frayed nerves that had dictated otherwise and she blew a heavy, albeit nervous, sigh. "I have no idea what you're on about." She muttered, tucking her ever oppressive lock of hair back behind her ear. Even wet it defied the logic of the rest of its kind. "I don't think about these things. I just feel and act on emotion." Rochelle shrugged and folded her arms around her ribs, "Thinking about it just kills the essence of whatever emotion you're feeling." While she wasn't sure who or what the woman was, she knew that were essentially and fundamentally insane. Following their grim line of thought and playing their game was the only way she was going to see this to its end, she thought.

Q wasn't ignorant of the woman's train of thought. They could practically see the gears churning at about a hundred miles a minute, constantly churning out ideas, theories, and plans for escape. Any minute it would all click together and the gig would completely be up and over and they... Well the continuum would have a field day with flaying them of their powers and a hundred thousand other nasty things like subjecting them to a brand new crystalline entity or something else as equally awful. They shivered. The Phoenix would need to be freed and soon. "Don't stop loving, human." The nurse sighed and wilted slightly, softening as they reached to touch the battered Commodore's arm, "It's your love that makes you so strong."

Before Rochelle could respond with more than a furrowed, perplexed brow, the sensation of hot liquid filling her throat and lungs consumed her. Panic filled her widened eyes as she clutched for her ribs, begging them to expand, begging her lungs to inflate. Convinced she was dying, the sensation of water tread all over her body, replacing the soft comfort of terry cloth. She flailed instinctively, finding that her fingers cut through black and gold laced water only to rap her knuckles into the hardness of porcelain with a distant, but distinct, painful thud. She was drowning. Absolutely drowning. Kicking her legs, her feet pushed against the far side of her tub and propelled her head back out of the water, sliding her back along the basin and granting her screaming lungs access to sweet, humid oxygen.

With a gasp and a heavy choke and sputter, the Phoenix drew in as much air as she possibly could and immediately opened her wild eyes, sweeping tangled tendrils of hair away from her face with what could best be described as bath pruned fingertips. No Romulan. No window. No sign of anything but the same burning candles she'd lit before sinking into the tub, and though her heart hammered in her chest and the hair on the back of her neck prickled, she was certain she was alone.

It had been a dream. A horrible, twisted, disgusting dream. "Sweet Jesus." She shivered, her hands gripping the sides of her tub as the waters slowly calmed around her, distinctly flustered and downright terrified. For a dream it had been entirely too real. She'd felt him. Smelled him. Her eyes shot to her wrists where she was certain she'd find the bites of the shackles he'd had her bound with, but found no such thing. Never again would she allow herself to doze off in the tub. Never.


--- end log ---

Commodore Rochelle Ivanova
Commanding Officer
USS VINDICTAOR, NCC 78213-E

&

"Ennui" aka Q
APB Spaceman

 

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