Shattering Humanity-Chapter 333: "...Just Put The Giant In The God Damn Electric Chair!"
{Warning: This Chapter contains multiple explicit inhumane scenarios, as well as gruesome dialogue in the context of homosexual rape.
There are multiple contexts towards unforgivable uses of torture, and other forms of psychological abuse that others may find extremely disturbing or possibly "unnecessary".
The use of certain derogatory terms and shocking real life elements are not in any way meant to encourage others to reenact, or meant to support the opinions/beliefs of those who do.}
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"To whom will you compare me? Or who is my equal?" says the Holy One.
Lift up your eyes and look to the heavens: Who created all these?
He who brings out the starry host one by one and calls forth each of them by name. Because of his great power and mighty strength not one of them is missing.
Why do you complain, Jacob? Why do you say, Israel, ’My way is hidden from the Lord; my cause is disregarded by my God’?
Do you not know? Have you not heard? The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. He will not grow tired or weary, and his understanding no one can fathom.
He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak. Even youths grow tired and weary, and young men stumble and fall; but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint." -Isaiah 40:25-31
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[Alexandria, Egypt
Current Day]
L’Orient DæMon: "Instead of just living in hiding for the rest of their weak lives, and using their magic for their own wanted existence, those hags tried again.
A few of those dumb bitches impregnated each other and created another clan that was all female, except..."
Jean: "...’Except’?"
The DæMon’s hood looks up at the pink eyes to her 2nd Generation partner and a giggle escapes. While the disturbing scene above theme continues.
L’Orient DæMon: "Except this time they allowed those females to go out and find love of their own.
Unknowingly to those new women, they too could only give life to females, even with the appropriate partnership to do so.
However this time, so rarely a male was born from the women of the secret clan."
Jean: "A guy?"
She looks down at the silent and motionless covered person at her feet.
L’Orient DæMon (nods): "Yes.
It seems my little sister MamMon has already found two males of this certain clan of her own, like the greedy brat she is, and she’s trying to utilize their capabilities without telling them."
Jean: "But like, tell me not, if they were born from a mom and dad like me, how are 2nd Generations and this other clan are like, different?"
L’Orient: "I cannot say for one hundred percent certainty but it seems unlike you 2nd Generations, these men are never immediately accepted by Seiõr, and must learn it the way others do to become accepted by our universal energy.
But when they finally gain control of that power..."
With the same misty purple Seiõr hand she used to cut the metal chains to free her hostage, L’Orient swipes at the air once and a small cut appears in the prisoner’s cover, over where their eye should be.
The two of them both lean over and from the covering an angry red eye is seen from the slit.
L’Orient DæMon: "These bad boys can cause some serious freaking damage."
In a different section of the torture chamber separate from the room of prisoners hanging upside-down from the ceiling, the unsettling and disturbingly echoes of crying captives is nonstop.
From the misfortunate victims of inhumane torture activities, their wails are in reaction to randomly the applied pain. There are some begging and pleading for it to stop while in between each round of abuse.
An entire medieval styled basement with a hall of open doorways.
Each one is currently in use for multiple different tactics of gruesome, horrific, but also personally inventive diabolical acts of torture.
Coming down a set of stairs into the hallway of individual torture rooms, L’Orient wearing her little black cloak with red and blue dwarf weeping willow tree patterns.
Behind the small, humming DæMon,.following her down the stone steps is the long legged, blonde haired, pink eyed 2nd Generation, Jean DæMon.
Jean is once again exhibiting her physicality with the specific prisoner in transport still entirely wrapped in a white sheet.
The cut chain still binds their ankles together. The end that once attached the person to the ceiling drags against the stone floor as they are carried.
Jean DæMon: "Ugh, like this guy friggin stinks, Madame L’Orient! 𝑓𝑟ℯ𝘦𝓌𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝑐ℴ𝓂
Do you like, have to soak all of these wrappings in mustard gas?
My eyes are friggin watering, and my liner and shadow are totally going to start getting fuckin fucked up.
There’s not even one, dumb, friggin mirror so I can fix my face while you test this one.
Ugh, this day like friggin blows."
In one of the stone rooms the group passes by, there is a panicking man heard. He is hyperventilating and begging for mercy, but it’s unseen from who.
Tortured Man: "Please!
No more!
I was right handed...
Please!
No m-"
There is the sound of a butcher knife slamming down on a cutting board and the blood curdling screams of the victim indicates his pleas did not fall upon the most understanding of ears.
L’Orient DæMon: "It’s necessary for their conversion, my dear and simple minded Jean.
They’re all lucky we didn’t wrap them up in shit sheets and hang them by their feet that way..."
In the next passed individual chamber, a whip lashes and makes contact with someone who releases a muffled audible reaction to the leather cutting their skin.
At the next doorway there is a wooden plank above it. On the wood is a carved symbol of an eagle, with a smeared bloody handprint across the well detailed carving.
A nauseating man’s screams combine with flesh tearing from bone.
The screaming eventually subsides and someone extinguishes the single torch inside the stone prison.
Apparently the one abusing has had enough of their fun for the day.
In the near distance, contributing most to the noise pollution of the the cement hallway, multiple groans of pleasure and aggression.
The victims are begging for death or mercy, but barely heard underneath the louder, disgusting, forceful, and familiar cadences of male guards sexual demands.
Each of the demands iatequickly proceeded by either a hard smack, a violent threat, or the assurances on how pleasing the unwilling act feels
Using her hand, Jean shields off her peripheral as she and the DæMon not infllicted by her setting, keep their strides without hesitation passed the chamber designated for rape torture and sexual humiliation.
Jean DæMon: "God, I friggin hate this next specific room more than any other in this totally freaky place."
Inside the brightest and largest single area in the damp, dark basement, there comes sobs, slapping, painful cries for help, and pleas from women for their rapists to stop.
The out of breath commands from groups of men can be heard coming from the doorway with luminescence escaping from the archway from hung torches.
The obvious audio that would make any respectable person angry, sickened, and horrified.
The distressed, unpleasant moans coming from the unwilling recipients as well as a few defensless male prisoners being forced out of their own preferences when it comes to sexual acts.
Male Guard: "You better stop struggling or I’ll fuckin stab you and fuck the wound til you bleed to death!"
Male Prisoner: "Please, I’m not ga-ahhhhhh!"
Male Guard: "Yeaaa, take it.
You aren’t a straight man anymore, you’re my dumb, fag hole for the rest of your pathetic life!
That’s right, the same guy who impregnated your sexy bitch wife yesterday, is now in your weak, and conquered aahhhhh-yeaaa!"
2nd Male Guard: "Aye, this one bit her own tongue out!
Tthere’s only a few minutes left until she’s cold if anyone wants one last go!"
Jean DæMon(thinking): *I wish I could end every single life in that literal Hell of a room...*
The unsettling, nightmarish noises of the specific dungeon room fades behind the pair of DæMons.
While carrying the mysterious individual prisoner down the last half of the unpleasant hall, the next generation assistant to one of the original DæMons, seems disturbed and rightfully so.
Jean DæMon: "Mizz L’Orient, can I like, ask you why we are doing all this torture stuff?
Right after you had cut this guy down from the ceiling in the first floor, we just left him there until we came back from our fight with Skalmönd."
The DæMon who was just in Sanpaku earlier in the day, and took the two HFF soldiers fighting Shelly, seems fed up with her younger bloodline and rolls her eyes underneath the shadows of the hood.
While walking in front of the questioning young French Lass they turn a corner at the end of the dimly lit hallway and there is a single wooden door.
Jean DæMon: "Was interfering with Skalmönd’s fight, battling your sister, and bringing back those two boys more important if we are going through all these gross methods, just to-"
The door gets violently kicked open by the bottom L’Orient’s boot and the fragile door smashes to bits against the wall.
L’Orient DæMon: "Jean..."
The interrupted young blonde swallows her spit, nervous of the vibe her superior is giving off.
Jean DæMon: "Y-Yes, Mizz-Mrs. L’Orient?"
The tiny advanced Seiõr user with the body of a child, floats up a few inches off the rocky floor.
Her hands become covered in and orange/red Seiõr and ignites the two perched torches high up on the wall on both sides of the room.
The decent amount of light reveals another treacherous, cold, stone rooms, but in the middle of the area, is an electric chair, but the wire that sends the voltage to the sitting occupant is not hooked up. It seems as if someone had ripped it out of a prison and placed it in the medieval torture dungeon.
The dangerous Scandinavian witch with one blue eye and one red eye lands back on her feet and points at the electric chair while ignoring her concerned colleagues questions.
L’Orient DæMon: "...Just put the giant in the God Damn electric chair!"
