...
Someone must’ve thrown something at Cold’s back.
@stp-mw-razorcuts
*as usual, he's standing at the fryer when it hits him. though he keeps at his work as if nothing odd is happening, his wings begin to twitch and flutter behind him. almost like they're trying to shoo away a bug...*
And indeed, it does feel as though a bug is crawling on his back. Right between Cold’s wings, in that one spot you can never quite reach.
It’s quite a large bug, based on the way its legs feel.
...
*his wings twitch a few more times before he finally sighs, his long neck craning to look over his shoulder at the pest.*
The ‘bug’ stares up at Cold with wide eyes.
“Hi.”
It promptly ‘bites down’ where it clings, carving ‘deep’ into Cold’s back.
...
*eyes narrowed, he starts snapping at her with his beak, just as he might if she really were a bug. unfortunately for him, she's found a spot he can't reach.*
Army gleefully dodges across Cold’s back, despite having no need to do so.
Countless extremely small cuts are left in her path before she crawls into the little crevice she made for herself.
There’s little hope of reaching her now without equipment.
*after a few minutes of fruitlessly clawing at his back, he lets out a heavy sigh. he was due for a break, anyway. time to see if anyone's willing to help with some impromptu surgery.*
Blood leaks down Cold’s back into his feathers, but that’s not the only thing falling out of there. Chunks of meat, barely more than fibers are tossed out in strands and chunks.
After all, carving a tunnel means emptying out space, and all that meat has to go somewhere.
*it hurts it hurts it hurts*
*it's nothing. just move, the faster he finds someone the faster he can get rid of her.*
The pain travels—— no, not travels. It does not leave where it has been as it moves. It grows, like a tumor in reverse. An absence instead of a warped reflection.
It’s growing up now, towards the right.
*he stops outside the fry kitchen, pondering his options. prisoner's always at the registers, and she isn't squeamish — but connie might be there, too, and like hell he's bringing her anywhere near them. the meat kitchen isn't really an option, either, knowing him. that leaves... maybe witch? she'd likely enjoy having a chance to get back at her.*
A throbbing pain arises in Cold’s shoulder. It feels as though someone is sawing through it, millimeter by millimeter.
Meanwhile, quote unquote, Army is having the time of her life, covered head to toe in blood and hacking away at Cold’s tendons and ligaments. She’s already cut her way through several veins and arteries.
*it hurts it's nothing it hurts it nothing hurts*
*the question now is, where is witch? he hasn't actually seen her in...*
*...*
*...he hasn't seen her since he found her corpse in the alley. shit. who else is there... cage's corpse, maybe? not an ideal choice for cutting him open, but he'll take what he can get. leaning against the wall, he makes his way towards the stockroom.*
It’s getting harder to move that arm right. Throbbing soreness aside, it’s just... refusing to move exactly how he wants it to. If at all, of course, but it’s getting limp.
How Army is able to tell what she’s doing with zero light is anyone’s guess, but she found the perfect spot just fine.
In a few moments, all muscles connecting that arm to Cold’s body will be severed. The nerves aren’t so lucky.
*hurts hurts hurts hurts*
*his right arm is useless by the time he gets to the stockroom, forcing him to try the handle with his non-dominant hand. it's locked.*
*hurts hurts it's fine it's nothing hurts hurts*
*gritting his teeth, he pounds on the door.*
Cage?
Army spends a few moments wildly slashing at the ruined shoulder before satisfied with the damage.
And then, the pain stops. No, not stops. Stops expanding. Stops its spread, somewhat. Not that such a thing would be easy to notice.
However that does not mean Army stops her excavation. Bird bones are full of holes and air pockets, making them much simpler to hack through.
Where she emerges will be marked by a trail of piercing agony followed by a torturous eruption.
*the pain is easier to suppress, once it stops spreading, but it's still there. with no response from cage, he changes course, moving towards the front of the building.*
And yet it still spreads, sprouts. Slower. Faster. Spread out. Ligaments are shoved out of place, cut away as Army carves her tunnels. Through the left shoulder, though blessedly not lingering there.
...
Something like a nail stabs out the back of Cold’s hand.
*HURTS HURTS HURTS HURTS HURTS HURTS HURTS HURTS HURTS HURTS HURTS*
*if his right arm had any function left, he'd take the opportunity to rip her out of him. but it doesn't, and at this point, neither does his left. he can't even lift it far enough to reach her with his teeth.*
*at least his legs are functional, still dragging his bleeding body forwards. not to the registers, no — he has a different idea, one that might be better than just removing her.*
*with great effort, he approaches the drive-thru.*
@stp-minimum-wage-nightmare
The drive-thru door is closed but unlocked. The small shade covering the window is fully extended, making it difficult to see what or who is inside.
*it might as well be locked, with the state of his arms right now. he settles for repeatedly slamming his upper body against the door.*
Nightmare?
The door swings open, revealing Nightmare sitting on the floor.
you alright?
No.
*both arms hanging limp, dripping blood from the numerous cuts in his back, cold staggers in, practically collapsing onto the floor next to her.*
The nail moves up and down and up and down until its path forms a circle, and the flesh inside falls to the floor.
Out pops the upper half of a small, crimson soaked woman who gasps at the open air.
“*Gasp* ...Wow!!! Real stuffy in there!!”
“Ohhai!!” Army looks up at Nightmare.
*he looks at nightmare with an expression in his eyes that for anyone else would be mild consternation. on cold, it speaks of agony.*
h e l p m e
@stp-minimum-wage-nightmare
Nightmare stares at Cold and the small thing that sprouted from his hand.
uh. politely, what the hell?!
It tries to pluck Army from where she emerged.
“Oop!!” Army quickly ducks away back into her hole, leaving Nightmare with nothing in her grasp save for some bloodstains.
She tosses flecks of muscle and flesh out the hole while giggling.
*fuck. she isn't afraid of nightmare either, is she? and now he's out of ideas — wait. no, he has one idea left.*
*he bites down hard on his left shoulder. his teeth aren't designed for slicing meat, but with enough gnawing, they break through the skin.*
@stp-minimum-wage-nightmare
assuming you want this thing out, so uh-
It slams its hand close to where it thinks Army is.
you want to play a game, huh, you little freak?!
The death aura around it intensifies.
Army pops out again, slightly. She is not perturbed by Nightmare’s size nor vibe. At least, not yet.
She giggles, “Sure, I’m up for Whack-an’—Army!! Hey, what’s that crunching noi... oh, okay. Gross.”
After gawking at Cold’s self cannibalism for a moment, Army pops back inside to scamper back the way she came.
ya know~ we could just burn em!
*flinch happily suggests with a violent glint in her eye that not normal for her tho...*
sure it'd be painful for him, but it'd also melt her! plus I'm sure the fire would be happy to get a nice meal! :D
*it's all said in the same tone as the razor Almost like an echo...
flinch goes and grabs a lighter from a cabinet that wasn't there before.
plan a is simply to scare razor enough they either leave or become susceptible to nightmares death aura, but plan b is in fact arson*
