Margo McKenzie vs Christopher McCoy (Fanfiction)

Margo’s eyes widened as light entered the dark chamber. For a brief second she forgot where she was before she remembered. Christopher flipped the light switch, brightening the chamber, lights flashing off of all the knives and bondage toys. Christopher looked over at her and smiled his devilishly perfect smile. She sniffled and her lower lip quivered. She refused to cry in front of this psychopath.

He chuckled as he walked over to one of the walls and grabbed a long knife. He walked up to her and swiftly placed it against her throat, leaning in dangerously close.

“You are so beautiful.”

“You’re a fucking psycho.” She said, her voice breaking in fear.

He chuckled again. “If I only had a dollar for every time I heard that.”

“You’d be rich, I get it.”

He turned away, thinking. “Actually, no. Most girls don’t really have the courage to speak once I’m inside them.”

“Fuck you!”

“You already have. Multiple times.” He responded, turning to face her, staring at her intently.

She didn’t have the courage to say anything else. She’d been here with her arms tied upward to the ceiling, her toes barely touching the ground for over a week now. He’d violated her daily, then every couple hours. She was losing it. She was finally afraid of something. That something was named Christopher McCoy.

He walked up to her. The only article of clothing he had left on her this whole time was her bra. Everything else was scattered around the room, except for her underwear, which he had taken with him the first time. He got dangerously close once again and began caressing her. Her lip began to quiver once again as a tear began to fall from her eye.

“Oh, no, don’t cry, Margo. It’s okay, I’m here for you.” He said, pulling out a tissue and wiping the tear off of her face. “I know what will make this all okay.” As he spoke he reached down and began unzipping his pants. Margo looked down in fear, not wanting to see it again. This time, something came over her. Not the fear she had grown used to, but something her mother taught her. Instinct.

As soon as he got it out she reached her leg up with all the strength that she had and kicked his testicles hard enough to send them back up into his body. He let out a blood curdling scream as he fell to the floor. She then reached her foot over and grabbed the blade he had dropped with her toes, ignoring the searing pain it caused her. She bent upward and handed herself the blade so she began slicing through the rope. However, Christopher got up.

“No, no, no. We can’t have that.” He grabbed the knife out of her hand and instead stabbed her in the stomach, right where her skin had just grown back from their encounter three days ago.

“Ah!!” she shouted, causing him to wince. He hated hearing women scream when it wasn’t a satisfied scream. He may have taken the blade away from her, but she had already done enough damage to the rope to rip it off of the ceiling and free herself. When she hit the ground she immediately fell to the floor, due to losing all the strength in her legs. Christopher saw this as an opportunity, so he got on top of her and entered her through the asshole, causing her to let out another scream. She reached back and elbowed him in the head, which phased him enough for her to slip away from him, barely having the strength to get up. She wished more than anything that he didn’t have power dampeners in the room. How the hell did he get Prometheus tech anyway? At the moment, she didn’t care. All she cared about was getting the rope off of her wrists so that she could properly fight back. He was stumbling getting up so she grabbed a random blade and sliced the rest of the rope off, running towards the door, but he tackled her and rolled her over so that she was facing him. He punched her in the face.

“You don’t want to be with me? Fine! I guess I’ll just put you with the others.”

She spit up at his face and kneed him in the dick, causing him enough pain so she could throw him off. She quickly ran over and grabbed a whip, turning around to whip him in the face, which she could, slicing off some of his skin. He screamed, so she whipped him again, and again, and again, and again. She screamed louder and louder with each thrust of her arm. Eventually he grabbed the whip and yanked her towards him, grabbing her by the throat, lifting her up and slamming her onto the counter, shoving her across it, knocking all the displays off until she hit the wall. She looked up at one of the glass cabinets that held several daggers. She punched it so that it shattered and she grabbed a glass shard, throwing it at him. It lodged itself right into his jugular, causing him to grasp it and fall to his knees. She grabbed a dagger and walked over to him, stabbing him in the other shoulder. He screamed, grabbing the dagger, ripping it out of his shoulder and slicing her across the stomach, causing her to fall backwards. He quickly got up and caught her from falling.

“See? I can still be good to you.”

She rubbed the handle of the dagger in the hand behind her back. She looked into his eyes and pretended to smile. She reached her other hand up to his face and said “Maybe you can be.”

Smiling, he reached up his arm to touch her hand. For a second, both of them were smiling, but she grabbed his wrist and pulled it out, stabbing his veins with the dagger, ripping it out and stabbing it again multiple times. Eventually he pulled away and slapped her across the face

“Bitch!”

He grabbed a mace off the counter and swung it at her, hitting her in the face, knocking her straight to the ground. She landed on top of her shirt, which she grabbed and threw at his face, briefly distracting him. She ran over to the door, which was stylized as a bank vault, making it a pain in the ass to open. She began spinning the dial with all her strength, but behind her he sliced her shirt in half and walked up to her. He grabbed her back and slammed her into the door, then again. Going in for the third time she spun them around and slammed him into it, grabbing his hair, ripping it upward and slamming his head into it again and again, screaming at the top of her lungs. Eventually she stopped and he looked at her with hazy eyes.

“I should kill you. But then I’d be no better than you. You deserve to go to Prometheus.” She then punched him in the face, knocking him unconscious. She continued to spin the dial until the door opened, and she stumbled out. She fell to her knees and put her hands on the ground, darkness bursting from them and surrounded the room as she screamed and cried.