And then, mercifully, she got exactly what she wanted.
Just like always.
Sylvia Delacroix: It felt like it’d been forever that they were down there. If she’d actually believed the situation were real, she’d have long since lost hope. They continued to talk, most of it centered on how to get free, but everything they’d tried had failed. One of the attempts even landed Jace on the ground, unable to do anything. She’d be happy when their attacker finally came back and scared them a bit. After that, they’d release them and she'd finally be free. With any luck, Jace would still be willing to talk to her, though she really doubted it.. She could probably find a way or two to repay him for being such a good sport about this. She’d continued her struggles, trying to release herself from the bonds. Maybe she could get them out of this early and they could enjoy themselves sooner rather than later. But nothing was working. “Jace?” she asked a moment later. “You’re okay, right?”
Jace Kyle: Jace laid with his cheek pressed against the cold stone floor, staring at the phone mere inches from his face. It had been bright a few minutes ago, chiming with frantic messages from Cooper. Good old Coop, he'd thought, Always there when I need them. But he'd been unable to reach it, and the phone had gone dark. Frustrated tears pooled in the hollow between his eye and his nose, dripping onto the dusty floor. It was a little easier to cry when Sylvia couldn't see him, as long as he did it silently. A little easier to admit to himself that he wasn't always as recklessly joyful as he pretended to be. Sometimes he was lonely. Sometimes he was scared. In this moment, he was terrified. And very, very tired. "I'm fine." He replied, grateful he only had to lie with his voice. "Just trying to figure out what to do next."
Pigface: Entering the small cavern they had left Sylvia and Jace in, they cheerily walked over to where the two remained tied up. They knew it was a game--but still. Seeing how little effort Sylvia had put into escaping made them a little disappointed in the woman. Jace, on the other hand, seemed to have been busy while they were gone. They approached his sideways body, kneeling down to reach out to him and pick up his chair. They lifted him right side up, still silent, before picking up the cell phone he'd left behind. They clicked through it, eyes darting as they read the messages. Cooper. Hadn't that been who they told Jackson to kill earlier? They tossed the phone aside, far from either of their victims. "So, I think it's time we end this little game. Don't you--Sylvia?" They asked, a smile beneath their mask.
Sylvia Delacroix: Yes, it was time for this to end. She was more than ready to be free, to be out of this wretched place. And she was to the point of remorse for involving Jace in this. She should have found some asshole to play the part. Instead, she’d involved a person who was way too good for this in her messed up schemes. “Yes, game’s over,” she forced out a laugh, still playing the part of the victim. “You’ve had your fun. You can let us go now; we won’t tell anyone.” Of course, Sylvia wouldn’t be telling anyone. Not unless Jace did. And if he did, well, all she’d have to do was turn on the waterworks again and blame the mastermind. It wouldn’t be too difficult for her to get out of trouble; she just needed to get out of here first.
Jace Kyle: He was embarrassed at the relief he felt when the monster lifted him up. The pressure on his left side had been building painfully, and he was sure he would be covered in bruises- if he lived long enough to form them, that was. He thought about saying something when Wilbur started going through his phone, but instead watched indignantly, flinching as they threw it away. If he was a smarter guy, a quicker guy, he might have picked up on the subtext of their attacker's question. Alas he was not, so instead he nodded resignedly as Sylvia spoke. "Yeah, man. We won't tell anyone. Please, just..." He trailed off, thinking of all the things he hadn't done, all the things he hadn't said. There was nothing left now but pray for mercy or holy intervention. "Please."
Pigface: "Please." They repeated, annoyed. Taking off their mask, they shook their long brown hair loose, revealing the face of the Parisian woman Jace had been when the rave had just begun--the same one Sylvia met in a bar nearly a week prior to the party. Delphine Marceau smirked, dropping the mask and letting the heavy cloak fall to her feet. "Please, Please Please." She exaggerated the words, giving a wink to Sylvia. Poor Jace--he really was collateral damage at this point. While they loved the scare this had given him, they wanted nothing more from him. But Sylvia had drug him into this, and now Delphine had no choice but to let it all play out. Pulling off her gloves, she looked up at the other woman. "So. Not sure if you've picked up on this--but there's been a change in plans. I'm going to kill you, and I think I have a pretty fucking good reason why." She reached into the waist band of her jeans, pulling out a gun from the small of her back and pointing it at Jace. "And Jace? That was your name, right?" Her tone was more or less sympathetic. "I really would have felt better about this if Sylvia had picked someone a little more...well. Mean." She shrugged, aiming the gun at him. "Sorry kid."
Sylvia Delacroix: Her eyes grew wide at the mention of death. This hadn’t been part of the plans. Delphine was supposed to just reveal herself, release them, and they’d be on their way. There wasn’t going to be a change in plans; there couldn’t be. “No,” she whispered. When the gun was pulled out, she couldn’t help but to shriek at the sight, this sound of terror real rather than fake front she’d been putting on before. Sylvia still didn’t quite believe that this whole thing was turning out this way, but surely Delphine wasn’t serious. But when she turned to Jace, Sylvia’s heart stopped. Especially once their captor mentioned that Sylvia had been the one to choose him. She looked at him now instead of Delphine, trying to tell him that she was sorry with simply a look. But she’d never been good at that. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the gun aimed at Jace and screamed. “No, please! Just stop.”
Jace Kyle: Jace felt an unprecedented number of emotions pass through him in quick succession. First, there was a kind of relieved confusion when the Pig-faced monster revealed herself to be the woman he'd met earlier that night. Was this just some kind of fucked up game? He wasn't exactly pleased to be included without his consent, but in comparison to the brutal Hostel-esque death he'd been imagining, extra kinky dungeon roleplay was like a gift from God. But then things devolved. Did she just say she was going to kill Sylvia? The gears in his head turned slowly, and he looked up at Sylvia, his face twisted with betrayal. Was she going to kill him all along? To get off? That bitch! But before he could spit up the hateful bile that was forming in his throat, he was cut off by the gun pulled from Delphine's waistband, and whatever rage was building in him was replaced by cold terror. "Wait!" He sputtered as she pointed it directly at him, "Wait, please! What did I do? Is this about the shit I said to Cooper? Did you hear that? I'm sorry, okay? I'm so sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" He was vaguely aware of Sylvia's begging in the background, and the word caught on the tears on his throat as he choked out once more, "Please."
Delphine Marceau: Delphine sighed heavily at the mess that was before her. Things were supposed to be...simple. She would playing along with Sylvia's prank, reel in her own lackie to do what she couldn't. Then, when the moment came for the game to be over, Sylvia would realize that she'd been a part of something bigger all along. This wasn't Sylvia's game anymore--Hell, it had never been. It was Delphine's. A shaking hand came to her face, and she had to force herself to keep her composure. She'd never killed anyone, never thought she'd really have to. "Don't cry. Don't beg." She told Jace, and Sylvia, in as calm a voice she could manage. "There is no changing my mind; I've tried to talk myself out of this many times." She lowered the gun, a look on her face that revealed just how much pain she was in. This was everything she had ever wanted, and all she had to do was pull the trigger. Instead, she brought the weapon to her side. "Do you...want a smoke?" She asked Jace, completely ignoring Sylvia for the time being. "It probably would not mean much to you--whatever I say or do in these next few minutes. But I will give you what small courtesies I can."
Sylvia Delacroix: The look on Jace’s face nearly broke her. Though she’d had a part in the scheme, she’d never meant for it to go this far. But the look on his face told her that he’d never believe that. Her whimpers began once Delphine began talking again. That was when it hit her; this really wasn’t a game anymore. They were in real danger and were likely about to die. She was ashamed to admit that she felt a bit of relief with Delphine focused on Jace for the moment. It was a selfish desire, but if Delphine was focused on him, then at least Sylvia had a few more minutes to live. She began struggling, this time for real, in an attempt to get free. Surely there was something she could do to stop this. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. They should’ve been free by now, either fucking or fighting. But neither of those things were in their future. Tears began to track down her face as her wrists were rubbed raw from the rope she was trying to hard to break. She wanted to scream or cry, but she didn’t want to draw even more attention to her. Plus, she’d been part of choosing the location. They’d chosen it specifically because no one would happen upon them. No one was coming to save them.
Jace Kyle: Jace stared at the mad woman, transfixed, as she spoke. It was as though she was two people; one a raving lunatic who stalked the catacombs in a pig mask, mocking his terror and waving weapons at him wildly, the other a human, plain and simple. Just a person, like him. The two ideas felt irreconcilable; Monster and man, nightmare and reality. Somehow, this was more terrifying than the Pigface ever could have been. The sight of her shaking hands brought with them a flash of unwanted sympathy, of weakness he would not have felt for a mere monster. There was power in her humanity. His eyes stayed trained on her gun as she lowered it, his heartbeat unwavering in it's pace. She'd told him not to beg, but he felt unable to form normal words, so instead he just nodded dumbly when she unexpectedly offered him a cigarette. If there was ever a time he needed one, it was now. He supposed he must look it, too. He supposed that's why she offered. Smoke 'em if you got 'em, he thought, considering the implication of those words more deeply than he ever had.
Delphine Marceau: Delphine tucked the gun back away in her waistband, pulling out a pack of cigarettes from another pocket. She'd quit the drugs, and figured smoking was an acceptable replacement; At least it would kill her slower than the cocaine. "This wont make things any better, I know--but Sylvia needs to know why this is happening. She needs to understand who she's dying for." Delphine shot the other woman and icy glare. "And why she got you killed too." She turned her gaze back to Jace, as she approached him with a offered cigarette. Delphine lit it, taking a deep drag before placing it gingerly between Jace's lips and stepping back slightly. She looked back over to Sylvia. Her tone was accusatory. "Twenty-two years ago, your aunt killed my parents. Surprised? Cordelia Laurent killed my parents. And tried to kill me and my little brother as well. I was five fucking years old. We'd been hiding in the closet. Do you know how fucking terrifying that is, Sylvia? To hide in your closet, your little brother gripping onto you as you hear the gunshots ring out from the floor below?" Delphine left her spot by Jace, to slink over to Sylvia and get in her face. “Speaking of brothers--Yours is dead.”
Sylvia Delacroix: Her heart began racing at the mention of her own name, dread filling her now that the attention was back on her once more. Who she was dying for? That made no sense. Sylvia didn’t even want to understand. Perhaps she could buy them some time, time to get free by playing dumb. Though the chances of rescue were slim at this point, she needed to try something, anything. When Delphine finally turned back to her and revealed why she had targeted her, her eyes widened in disbelief. She shook her head slowly, refusing to believe her aunt could have done something like that. If it had been any other situation, she probably would have felt bad for the woman; she could tell that she was hurting over a loss. But now, all she felt was fear because Delphine obviously was set to punish Sylvia for her aunt’s supposed crimes. And there was nothing she could do to stop it. She pressed her lips together in an attempt to keep from begging, from crying and pleading or even insisting her aunt wasn’t responsible. She already knew nothing she said would matter at this point. But it was the last words that really left their mark. At those three words, her breath left her in a gasp and she looked at Delphine, not believing what she was hearing. “You’re lying,” she whispered. The alternate wasn’t acceptable.
Jace Kyle: He accepted the cigarette with a hesitant nod of thanks, inhaling deeply and letting the smoke stream out the side of his mouth. He immediately felt calmer, his thoughts and his heart rate slowing down. There was an upside to addiction. He listened intently as Delphine spun her story, eyes flickering between her and Sylvia. It was becoming clear that his initial assumptions about Sylvia's intentions had been wrong. He would have felt guilty, but it was hard to, considering she had lead him to his death. How the fuck did he get himself into these situations? He sucked rather desperately at his cigarette as his captor went on about a murder that had taken place when he was an infant, a million miles away in a double-wide trailer in Virginia. He had nothing to do with this. It wasn't fair. He head practically spun to face Sylvia when she finally spoke. "Sylvia," He hissed in warning. He was furious with her, of course, but he wasn't a sadist. He didn't want her to die- or to die any more painfully. He wasn't a smart guy by any means, but he sure as fuck knew not to antagonize a sociopath with a gun. That was like, Sociopath 101.
Delphine Marceau: Truthfully--Delphine had no idea what had become of Sebastian Delacroix. She'd found his cellphone earlier, while tormenting the drugged students, and had pocketed it. Now, she took the phone out and sat it in Sylvia's lap. It was covered in dried blood--which Delphine was admittedly a little curious about. She would kill the other Delacroix when she could, but for now Delphine wanted Sylvia to die thinking her killer had taken him from her already. "Dead." She repeated. "I slit his throat. He believed me though, when I told him who I was. Sebastian asked me to spare you. I laughed in his face." All lies. She'd only spoken to Sebastian once, and that was before she had even knew his relation to Sylvia, or to Cordelia even. Clasping her hands a sense of finality came into the chamber. "Well..that's all she said. I'm ready to leave. Go home. Put this night behind me." She pulled out the gun once more, staring at it as it sat in her hands.
Sylvia Delacroix: Her eyes began to blur with tears. That was his phone. She would have recognized it anywhere, and she could clearly see the dried blood on it. But if he were really dead...Any hope that this was still just some extension of a sick prank left Sylvia in that moment. She knew they wouldn’t be found in time for help, perhaps ever. She was going to die that night, and unfortunately, she’d brought sweet Jace down with her for crimes neither of them had committed. She took a deep breath to calm herself before looking back up at Delphine. There were so many things she wanted to say, to beg for their lives, to plead that they weren’t guilty of anything, but she recognized the determination in the other woman’s face. None of it would do any good. Perhaps she couldn’t save her own life, but maybe she could help Jace as a final parting gift. “You’ve killed my brother,” she spoke softly, “You’re clearly going to kill me, but he has nothing to do with this. He won’t tell anyone. Just kill me, and let him go.” Her voice was as smooth and convincing as she could make it considering the circumstances, but she was still shaking and her voice had cracked.
Jace Kyle: As the pillar of ash hanging from his cigarette began to curve, Jace started to pray. He wasn't sure who he was praying to (maybe Buddha? he always seemed like a chill guy), but he was sure that if ever there was a time to pray, this was it. He mouthed rushed and clumsy sermons, begging and bargaining and occasionally saying thanks for the few valuable things he did have; friends, memories, his prized bong, Kelly. He shut out the conversation going on around him, not imagining Sylvia's poor, dead brother. Not looking at Sylvia's pretty, tear-stained face. He was shocked when she mentioned him, putting words to his thoughts. It was true, he had nothing to do with this. He wouldn't tell anyone. But when he really thought about it, the same could be said of her. He looked at Delphine. "I'm sorry," He started, exhaustion evident in his voice, "About your parents. Really, I am. But I had nothing to do with it," He looked briefly, distantly, at Sylvia, "And neither did she. She musta been a baby when this happened, maybe not even. It ain't her fault what her aunt did." He closed his eyes, thinking of how he got here, how he sealed his fate. Something like a laugh graced his lips. "Fuck, I just thought you were hot." He wasn't sure which woman he was talking to.
Delphine Marceau: What the two trembling people in front of her didn't seem to understand was that Delphine didn't care if they were responsible for this or not. It was an eye for an eye, type situation. Cordelia had taken Delphine's family, and the only thing she could think of in order to find some semblance of peace in her life was to do the same to her. Kill the Delacroix siblings. Then the Delacroix elders. Then Cordelia. Delphine's last victim--would be herself. She knew the guilt of what she would do tonight would kill her eventually. Maybe not this night, or the next. But one day it would tear her apart. No one would win this game. "It's on you Sylvia; Jace's life is on you." She snapped, before marching to Jace's side and pulling out the gun. She took aim at his head, her finger wrapped on the trigger. Shooting a look back to Sylvia, Delphine shook her head slightly and moved the gun down to Jace's crotch. She pulled the trigger, visibly shaking as the gun went off. "YOU DID THIS TO HIM, SYLVIA. DO YOU SEE HOW MUCH PAIN HE'S IN? YOU--YOU CAUSED THIS." She wanted Sylvia scared--NO. She wanted her Traumatized. Jace's cries of pain forced her to look back to him, and she stood her place. It was painful to watch, to know he didn't deserve this. Delphine paced back and forth, ignoring both Jace and Sylvia's cries of terror and pain. She didn't want to be here anymore; didn't want to play judge, jury, and executioner. --But if she didn't, no one else would. Stopping in her tracks, she raised the gun and another shot rang out, but this one was aimed for Jace's head. "Fuck..Fuck me....Fuck..."
Sylvia Delacroix: Sylvia’s scream echoed the sound of the first gunshot, loud and shrill. She didn’t want to even look, fully expecting Jace to already be dead, but when Delphine began screaming at her, mentioning his pain, she finally opened her eyes again. And she wished she hadn’t. At that point, she thought it would have been better for Jace to have been killed instantly rather than be tortured because of her. Guilt washed over her for her own part in this. Even if she hadn’t planned on their deaths, she’d still gotten someone involved who’d done nothing worth this treatment. Her breaths began coming out in shallow gasps, almost to the point of hyperventilating. The sound of the next gunshot silenced her, but not because she’d been hit. Rather because she knew it was over for Jace. She’d gotten him into this mess, and because of her, he was dead. She wanted to tell him that she was sorry, that she’d never meant for this to happen, but it was too late for any of that now.
Jace Kyle: Panic flooded his body as Delphine turned her gun back to him. He stared it down for a moment, before it began to travel down his body. "N-" Was all he managed to get out, and then it was too late. And then he was screaming. The butt of the cigarette fell from his lips and burned his chest, but he didn't notice. The pain he was feeling was all encompassing. His thoughts were incoherent, half formed and bouncing around his mind without purpose; Did gunshots always hurt this badly? Was he pissing blood or just bleeding out? Was this ironic, or just tragic? That bitch, that motherfucking dick-shooting cunt how dare she how could she... Why? Oh god, why? Why? Why? His thoughts slowly distilled to that, just a steady thrum of Why? to match the droning of groans and screams it seemed were still coming from his mouth. When Delphine finally raised her gun again, he did not flinch. He gave her a look that he hoped said Yes, please, end this. In his final moment, the one they say lasts forever, he saw his friends. Wild, jubilant flashes of blue hair and shy smiles and broken hearts. He saw drunken declarations of love and silent, hungover breakfasts and the pure light of dawn dancing across a beautiful face. He saw his mother, waving to him from the front porch with a sweet tea in her hand. And then he saw nothing more. And then he was gone.
Delphine Marceau: Delphine dropped the gun, as if it were a snake that would turn at her any moment. She forced herself to look at Jace's body, bile creeping up her throat. Swallowing hard, she shook her head once more. "You did this Sylvia." Her words were quiet, barely a whisper--as if she were trying to convince them both it was the truth. Sniffling, she turned her watery eyes to Sylvia. "There is nothing I can do to convey the terror I felt hiding in that closet--but I can give you pain; Twenty-two fucking years worth of it." Sylvia would suffer a slow death, feel the burning rage that had begun to consume Delphine's life. Walking to a small alcove, Delphine bent down and picked up a can of gasoline and walked back to Sylvia. She took her time, uncapping it with trembling hands. "You're going to burn." She said simply, holding the canister above Sylvia's head and letting the gas pour onto her. She heard wet sputters from the woman, her tears and now the gas nearly choking her.
Sylvia Delacroix: “No,” she replied, more to herself than anything. She wasn’t even saying no that she didn’t do it; she was well-aware that this whole thing was her fault. It was more a product of her own terror in that moment. She didn’t want to accept that this was her fate, to die in some dingy tunnel at the hands of some woman who clearly needed a lot of therapy. Sylvia had planned on dying in her fifties, when she had already had children and maybe some grandchildren. When she was old enough to have experienced everything life had to offer without growing old and ugly. This wasn’t part of the plan. She began struggling again, harder than she ever had in her entire life, once she saw the gasoline and heard the words burn. But Delphine had done too good a job. The shock of the gasoline had her sputtering, trying to get a mouthful of air that wasn’t tainted by the taste or smell. She screamed hoping that perhaps she’d get lucky as she always did in life. There’d always been someone to save her. But not anymore.
Delphine Marceau: The gas flooded out of the canister, soaking Sylvia and the floor beneath her. Delphine had to move her feet quickly to avoid the spread of it, hoping to the side to be out of the puddle's path. Jace's body would burn too. They'd be gone--nothing but ashes left to wither away where no one would find them. She threw the empty can to the side, the metal crashing loudly against the floor before rolling away. "Look at me." She said sternly, watching as the gas dripped off of Sylvia. "I want you to know that I didn't do this for my family. They wouldn't want this." Her parents would never wish something so cruel upon someone, especially by the hands of their child. Delphine knew they would be disgusted by her acts. Her father, would understand at least to an extent; So she had told herself. Striking the match, Delphine spoke in a cold tone. "I'm doing this for me." She dropped it, the flames licking up the gasoline and instantly lighting Sylvia's body in a fiery ball of heat. This was her revenge---Her terrible, awesome revenge. Delphine stepped back, raising a hand to shield her eyes as she watched.
Sylvia Delacroix: Sylvia wanted to ignore the command, to deny her killer this one thing, but the impulse to at least look her in the eyes was too great. She looked at Delphine, immediately wishing she hadn’t. When she explained that it wasn’t even because of her family, Sylvia opened her mouth to talk, to tell her that she didn’t need to do this then. She would have offered any amount of money to make this go away. Jace was dead, yes, but Sylvia couldn’t do anything about that. She could have saved her own life. But once Delphine lit the match, Sylvia knew it was over. Her body was engulfed in flames almost immediately, and at first, Sylvia thought it was a prank still. Perhaps some expensive prank because the fire didn’t hurt. It wasn’t hot. A moment later, the pain hit all at once. She’d been burned before, but it hadn’t been anything like this. The agony was everywhere. No matter how much she struggled, the flames wouldn’t go out. She felt her dress melting to her skin and then her skin burning away leaving muscle and bone exposed. Her eyes closed in the hopes that, perhaps, the flames wouldn’t reach them and she could somehow survive this. Her eyelids went a moment later. Flames rushed into her mouth, cutting off the screams of anguish. In that moment, all she wished for was death. And then, mercifully, she got exactly what she wanted. Just like always.
Delphine Marceau: Her finger prints were everywhere. Delphine watched the flames consume Sylvia as she contemplated whether to cover her tracks or not. Did it matter if she was caught at this point? Her prints were in the system already--it wouldn't take long to identify her, in the unlikely event they ever made it down here in the first place. Sylvia's screams brought her attention back to the scene before her, and a sudden wave of anxiety came over Delphine. No, she didn't want to go to jail. However this ended, she wanted it to be on her own terms. As the flames continued to burn, Delphine hastily began wiping her prints off of whatever she could. She picked the gun up, stuffing it back in the small of her back for whatever may come. She needed to leave before someone came looking for her, Xavier, Mani, Zach. Delphine didn't want any of them to see this. She gave Sylvia's remains one final look, her face a look of forced satisfaction. "Goodbye Sylvia. I hope you rot."
