>>58928417YOU TAKE MEDS
STAY MAD
Arceus, please, not like this. Don’t let her hear me. Don’t let her know I’m here, listening. She wanted to cover her ears, but her arms were immobile. She was forced to listen, every sound carving a new wound in her soul.
“Such lovely skin,” the grunt’s voice mused. “The cameras love it, don’t they? Well, Hydreigon appreciates a tender meal. Position her, boys. Head towards the central maw. That’s it.”
“You’ll never get away with this!” Diantha cried, her voice rising in pitch. “The International Police— Looker—!”
Aldith, listening by the campfire in Sinnoh, let out a delighted snort. “She even says the same lines! Pathetic.”
The sounds from the radio became wetter, more visceral. A loud, slobbering schlick as a massive maw opened. Diantha’s scream was suddenly muffled, then became a series of panicked, guttural grunts. There was a sound of thrashing, of heels scraping desperately against gravel, then being lifted into the air.
“Good, good! Swallow slowly, my beauty,” the Kalos grunt coached, his voice a dark mirror of Aldith’s. “Savor the flavor of a champion. Feel her fight.”
Cynthia could hear it. The wet, rhythmic gulps. The desperate, muffled cries that grew progressively fainter. The sound of a body being compressed, of fabric dissolving. She could imagine it all, because she was living it. She knew exactly what Diantha was feeling at that moment—the shocking heat, the overwhelming pressure, the darkness, the first sting of acid. A symphony of agony, playing in real-time through a radio speaker into her own personal hell.
Diantha’s struggles lasted longer than Cynthia’s had. The actress was putting up a ferocious fight. The radio transmitted the sounds of Hydreigon’s heads snorting, of its gulps being more labored. “She’s a feisty one! Kicking like a Mienfoo!” the grunt laughed.
