Fucking Loser Sits In a Tree All By Herself

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She gaped for air, her mouth open in a silent plea for help that would never come. Her body wouldn't respond, laying limply on the cool operation table. She couldn't gag despite the tube shoved down her throat that kept her breathing, her head had been tilted up at the view of her body, dark dotted lines running all over the flesh of her stomach. In the corner of her view, she swore Secco hovered, holding a camera above her face. What was going on, what was happening? "Anghk."

"Ah! You're awake! I can tell! I can see it in your eyes!" Secco squealed, allowing a figure in the corner of the room she hadn't noticed stand.

"Good good good good good good job, Secco! Good good good good good good good good!" He cooed to the man. "Now then, darling! I can take this out!"She gagged as the tube was pulled from her throat, slow and deliberate, as if taunting her to vomit. Her body lurched and convulsed at the horrid feeling, held down by little straps. It was enough to keep her weak body pinned, at the least. She gasped for breath, her eyes teary and vision blurry, the fuzzy green blob grabbed something, but she wasn't so concerned about what it was at the moment. "What the f-fuck is going on?"

"Tut tut! I didn't say you could speak!" The deranged fucker purred, pressing a finger to her nose. "You're going to be dissected, little one! I never get such high quality goods often, I'll have to thank that man. Although I may have left a little mess... Oh, I'm sure the Don won't mind. He runs the entirety of Passione after all, he can clean up my little mess~"

Her eyes finally caught onto the glint of the silver blade, poised to slice into her skin. She screamed, desperately trying to wrench her body away from the blade that dug into her skin, beads of red bubbling up the surface of her smooth, (S/C) skin. "Stop..." She heaved, her mouth dry and the pain coursing through her veins, spreading like a disease. Her please only egged the man on, digging the blade further into her skin as the second man burned the edges of the wound to prevent her from bleeding out. Cioccolata wanted her to last as long as possible.

Time was but an illusion. She wasn't sure if she had lay on this operation table for hours or years, flickering in and out of consciousness as he did whatever he pleased. Her voice had abandoned her long ago. "I'm surprised she's still.. Conscious." She wasn't sure who was speaking, or if it was all in her head. Her brain was foggy and everything seared with the debilitating pain. The needle pierced her skin one last time, closing the wounds.  "You did splendidly, Secco! Wonderful work! Go get the tape set up."

"Mmh! Mmh!"

"Ah, but we need the confirmation, don't we?" She snapped back to reality as a hand caressed her face, the thumb inching closer to her eye. No amount of screaming would save her, she knew this, but even if her screams were hazy and weak and her body didn't respond, she still desperately thrashed away from his grip as his thumb pressed into her right eye, an excruciating pain blooming as the right side of her sight had started to buzz out. With another wiggle, her eye had been gouged out, her releasing a tortured cry as he pulled the eye clean out of her skull, dangling it infront of her intact one. It wasn't as if she could see it, eyes squeezed shut as salty tears burned hot paths down her cheeks. What did she do to deserve this? She helped people, she studied and cleaned after herself, ate her veggies, and refused to do drugs even when Amelia begged her to join. Why was it her on this table? It was unfair. It was cruel. Everything burned. Her body was hot to the touch, the once smooth skin on her abdomen stitched together like some crude patchwork. Tears continued to fall down her cheeks, her hiccups and soft sobs ecchoing in the sterile, bleak room.

Cioccolata wiped the tools down, humming a soft tune as Secco readied the tape from later. He relished in her little hiccups, the eye stored safely in the jar of formaldehyde, staring at him with that beautiful (E/C) sheen. Shame it would have to be shipped away, it would be a wonderful collectible. He turned to face the patient, her tears floating up toward the ceiling. He blinked, it must have been a trick of the light, but no, she had begun to float too, the leather straps broken and frayed from what looked like severe heat damage, but that was unfeasible?

"W-What?" He pulled out his stand,the blade in hand and ready to strike. It couldn't be an enemy stand, there was no one for miles...! Was she herself a stand user? Impossible! Her records held nothing about odd behavior and nothing about an arrow. Was she born with a stand? She would have brought it out much earlier, it just made no sense! Then, a flash of pink. He narrowed his eyes, watching pink limbs pull her floating body out the door. "S-secco!"

The pink being cradled her master closer, floating up to the ceiling, walking along the upside down surface. It had taken a while, but finally, her fighting spirit had flourished. She had called forth her stand. Soda City Funk!

SCF dragged the body of her master down the abandoned halls, sidestepping the blue fluorescent lights as she ran. What were Secco and Cioccolata gonna do about it? They can't reach! Secco's stand can't get up there! And Cioccolata can't reach her either! So they resorted to throwing shit at her. It's fun, really. SCF isn't already tired of her entire two minutes of existence. First her master gets cut up like sashimi and pieced together like a puzzle, then they have to escape on the ceiling and she had like three knives thrown at her. Good thing her body is glassy and smooth, it mostly just ricochets off and leaves small scratches.

One rather aggressive throw by Cioccolata that was aimed at her master managed to impale her right at the crack that she had made herself a few moments before, the contents of the lava lamp midsection spilling down below her, flooding the halls in the pink goo, eating away into everything it touched like a corrosive acid, Cioccolata sighed. Well, wasn't that a waste, at least he still got something out of that night, a rather beautiful eye, and a lovely tape filled with the screams of a cute 16-year-old young lady. She would die soon anyways.

-+-

Now, there aren't many places a nude minor can go when they just had the worst surgery in the history of surgeries, so what does SCF do? Set her in a fucking tree in the middle of nowhere? Sounds perfectly reasonable! Good job, SCF, you absolute genius! She held her owner closer, it wasn't as if that would give any semblance of warmth, stands can't produce heat. But she just wanted to help. She didn't know where else they could go. And did that guy even fix the blood clot? (Yes, he actually did) Amelia was out of question, she may be her closest friend, but if she did drugs, she wouldn't be of much help. Anyone else... They were just awkward, not exactly good hey-I-kinda-got-kidnapped-and-dissected-can-I-stay-the-night friends.

Hopefully, the sun would rise soon, the nights are much too cold to spend alone with only yourself.

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