Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Rise From Your Grave
The necromancer felt no sympathy for the regenerated corpse she left strapped to the table with the waking corpse in the room. He deserved whatever punishment she was dishing out, because she refused to have an uprising. He should at least be grateful that she left some raw meat with them.
Sure, it was unlikely corpses would attack other corpses, but from what she had read, Radke was no longer a corpse. He was now more a human without memories or emotion or even a will. It was like a person with amnesia and whatever the hell that disorder that makes you not feel emotions is.
In theory, he was growing more humanoid by the day. But the more humanoid he grows, the more dangerous he would get. Either way, ti was a possibility that he would be attacked by the zombie.
In the labyrinth, in another room, far enough from the morgue that the unholy howling and sounds of crunching bones could be heard, the Necromancer lay sleeping. She had to get going to work the next morning, otherwise it would be impossible to keep this place running, even if most of it ran off solar power.
Several hours later, her alarm went off. She rolled out of bed grudgingly, snapping it off. In her mind, she wondered why she didn't just go back to sleep, even as her feet took her down to the morgue. But then she reminded herself that she had to check on her corpse. Not Radke, who she no longer gave a damn about. No, she was concerned over "sh y Pur", her latest project. IF the belligerent corpse was bleeding when she brought him back, and the fatal injuries didn't heal by themselves quickly, then there was a chance her new corpse might bleed out before the spell had taken it's full effect.
She unlocked the door to the morgue, peeking in carefully. Nothing rushed her, so she opened it fully.
Inside, there was quite a bit of blood. Stepping in, her foot went straight into a small puddle. Splatters of the ruby liquid stained everything, and trails of it leaked down the metal cabinets. A faint gasp of shock slipped from the Necromancer's mouth. She hadn't expected to see this. Sure, she was counting on there being a mess most likely, but not to this extent.
She moved further into the room, feet slapping on the wet ground. The carnage was truly unpleasant. The tangy, coppery scent invaded her nostrils. She hissed in annoyance.
There, in the corner, hunched up in pain, was her corpse from last night. He was trying in vain to staunch the flow of blood from his limbs. It was his original death all over again.
She stepped forward carefully, trying not to seem imposing. "Are you alright?" She asked quietly, kneeling down in front of the man.
He let out a cry of fear, or at the least, tried. His voice was gone, maybe forever, from most likely dehydration. "I'm not going to hurt you." She said quietly. Sure, she was lying, she hurts everyone in the end, but she was trying to make her army stronger, after all.
"Who're you? Where'm I?" He choked out, still holding onto his arm and leg, as if that would help prevent him from death... again. She froze in shock. The vernacular he spoke had fallen out of use centuries ago, replaced by an older one, from somewhere around the middle ages. "I'm no one important, but you're safe." She said, switching over effortlessly.
"What happened? Who am I?"
"You were injured, so I brought you here to heal you, but I don't know who you are."
"I don't believe you, I don't, you're one of them, who are they, you-"
"Come on, at least let me get you stitched up, you'll bleed out again if I don't."
"Again?" He asked, eyes wide open in fear.
She cursed herself mentally. "I'll explain everything to you in a bit, now come on." she said, standing before offering her hand to him. Of course she wasn't going to explain it. He took it uncertainly, standing, shakily. His eyes were dilated, she could see quite clearly now, and his hands were clammy. Upon standing, he nearly fell. He was showing shock and postural hypotension. Early signs of too much blood loss.
Slowly, she lead him over to one of the tables, having him lay down on it. Seeing her pull out a large medical kit, he started to get up.
"I'm not going to dissect you, don't worry." she said, pulling out an alcohol prep pad, ripping off the packaging. He didn't seem to relax too much. It appeared that the corpses coming through here were just plain traumatized from whatever they had went through a year prior. To them, it was only yesterday that they were suffering. They didn't know they'd been dead a thousand years.
Sure, it was unlikely corpses would attack other corpses, but from what she had read, Radke was no longer a corpse. He was now more a human without memories or emotion or even a will. It was like a person with amnesia and whatever the hell that disorder that makes you not feel emotions is.
In theory, he was growing more humanoid by the day. But the more humanoid he grows, the more dangerous he would get. Either way, ti was a possibility that he would be attacked by the zombie.
In the labyrinth, in another room, far enough from the morgue that the unholy howling and sounds of crunching bones could be heard, the Necromancer lay sleeping. She had to get going to work the next morning, otherwise it would be impossible to keep this place running, even if most of it ran off solar power.
Several hours later, her alarm went off. She rolled out of bed grudgingly, snapping it off. In her mind, she wondered why she didn't just go back to sleep, even as her feet took her down to the morgue. But then she reminded herself that she had to check on her corpse. Not Radke, who she no longer gave a damn about. No, she was concerned over "sh y Pur", her latest project. IF the belligerent corpse was bleeding when she brought him back, and the fatal injuries didn't heal by themselves quickly, then there was a chance her new corpse might bleed out before the spell had taken it's full effect.
She unlocked the door to the morgue, peeking in carefully. Nothing rushed her, so she opened it fully.
Inside, there was quite a bit of blood. Stepping in, her foot went straight into a small puddle. Splatters of the ruby liquid stained everything, and trails of it leaked down the metal cabinets. A faint gasp of shock slipped from the Necromancer's mouth. She hadn't expected to see this. Sure, she was counting on there being a mess most likely, but not to this extent.
She moved further into the room, feet slapping on the wet ground. The carnage was truly unpleasant. The tangy, coppery scent invaded her nostrils. She hissed in annoyance.
There, in the corner, hunched up in pain, was her corpse from last night. He was trying in vain to staunch the flow of blood from his limbs. It was his original death all over again.
She stepped forward carefully, trying not to seem imposing. "Are you alright?" She asked quietly, kneeling down in front of the man.
He let out a cry of fear, or at the least, tried. His voice was gone, maybe forever, from most likely dehydration. "I'm not going to hurt you." She said quietly. Sure, she was lying, she hurts everyone in the end, but she was trying to make her army stronger, after all.
"Who're you? Where'm I?" He choked out, still holding onto his arm and leg, as if that would help prevent him from death... again. She froze in shock. The vernacular he spoke had fallen out of use centuries ago, replaced by an older one, from somewhere around the middle ages. "I'm no one important, but you're safe." She said, switching over effortlessly.
"What happened? Who am I?"
"You were injured, so I brought you here to heal you, but I don't know who you are."
"I don't believe you, I don't, you're one of them, who are they, you-"
"Come on, at least let me get you stitched up, you'll bleed out again if I don't."
"Again?" He asked, eyes wide open in fear.
She cursed herself mentally. "I'll explain everything to you in a bit, now come on." she said, standing before offering her hand to him. Of course she wasn't going to explain it. He took it uncertainly, standing, shakily. His eyes were dilated, she could see quite clearly now, and his hands were clammy. Upon standing, he nearly fell. He was showing shock and postural hypotension. Early signs of too much blood loss.
Slowly, she lead him over to one of the tables, having him lay down on it. Seeing her pull out a large medical kit, he started to get up.
"I'm not going to dissect you, don't worry." she said, pulling out an alcohol prep pad, ripping off the packaging. He didn't seem to relax too much. It appeared that the corpses coming through here were just plain traumatized from whatever they had went through a year prior. To them, it was only yesterday that they were suffering. They didn't know they'd been dead a thousand years.
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