Where: Trevor's Compound, Main Lab
When: Thursday evening
Who: Trevor and his worst nightmare
What: Vengance for... things that Trevor would have done if he had known to. Possibly. Probably.
Warnings: Shit is gonna get violent. And gory. GRIMDARK LEVELS ARE THROUGH THE ROOF, FOLKS. honk.
Minutes had long since blurred together. Hours, days, weeks... how long had Mew left herself to rot in those blasted air vents? The thought never occurred to check her communicator's clock, even when she started using it to send cryptic messages while her sanity waned. She had been waiting, waiting for Trevor to slip up, to make a mistake. To show her his back so she could rip out his spine. That opportunity never came. The man was competent, frighteningly so for a single human. Clearly, she was not the first creature to seek his suffering.
How long had it been now? Three weeks? Four? It hadn't been a year yet, she mused to herself, even as she silently drifted through the vents, closer to the lab she had seen in that video... confining one's self without interaction was the quickest way to both lose track of time and lose grip on your sanity, something that Mew had learned in her fortnight staking out Trevor's complex. Sure, she tried to pass the time by playing pranks, tricking his security system... by now, she was certain that he would never have seen her crawl into the ducting on that first day; if he had, he would have sniffed her out.
But none of that was important now.
She had grown sick of waiting.
He was going to pay now. He was only the first she would judge... in a way, she pitied him; he was the first to suffer her hate.
Ink City Logs
- WELCOME TO THE DARK CARNIVAL, BROTHER.