Chapter 1: Sane Insanity
Chapter Text
HOW PATHETIC. KILL YOURSELF.
You shook your head, pinching bridge of nose. Brows furrowed. Deep breaths. Do not listen to the curse.
You rubbed your face with another heavy sigh. Palm, showing signs of the manual labor you've done in past, revealed tired eyes underneath. Your gaze slowly shifted towards window on your left.
It was sunny morning. Sparrows cried loudly, sweeping up and down above neglected garden. There were some seeds planted, but it seems like they won't last.
Not that you care. It doesn't feel right anyway. It was them who had green thumb, you only watched from behind. Without master here... it didn't matter. Not much did anyway.
You missed those times, as gruesome as they could be. There were dangers, of course, despite relative peace. For example, gardening shovel would fly your way any time you made silly mistake, or said joke that didn't land. In retaliation, you would turn on water hose and aim at their head.
If looks could kill, you would be dead a milion times. They had the most deadly gaze... that in fact wasn't as threatening as usual, when they were soaked to the bone. One of very few times you could feel like equal.
You smiled at the memory, taking a last sips of tea that was already losing heat. Pleasant taste danced on your tongue, a tango of blackberry and blueberry, sweetened by honey.
Wooden chair protested loudly when you stood up to place empty glass in the sink. You rolled your shoulders, fingers finding their way to neck, digging into hard muscles. Oh, you could use some message. Maybe it would get rid of that tension, even if just for a while.
There was so much space in this house, yet no inhabitants to use it fully. Walls did not whisper secrets shared to them in the dead of night, did not echo careless laughter. Windows had no face to reflect, no one to gaze through them lovingly, waiting for their partner to return. You stood awkwardly in the middle of saloon, fluffy rug tickling your feet. No black kitty taken a spot on leather sofa, curled up into a void from another dimension. No familiar figure in blanket covered armchair, reading yet another book.
The smell of 'new' still hang in the air. You barely changed any of furniture provided by the landlord after all. Just few trinkets found in the woods. A fox skull, placed above fireplace that was the only thing that could mimick warmth in your soul, one that you lost long ago. Deer antlers hanged on one of walls, between paintings of endless fields. On table in the middle of the room stood vase with purple lilac. They bloomed with joy when you found them, sweet smell drawing in anyone passing by. By now, stems bowed under the weight of sorrow, flowers curled, as if trying to shield from loneliness of the place, alone from the rest of its comrades. Corolla pale and wrinkled, gnawed on by passage of time. Your fingers brushed over it gently. A few petals fell down, sealing imminent death of the plant.
All things considered, it was quietness, that was the worst. Walking from room to room, only your own footsteps acompanied you. Deafening silence enveloping you the second you stepped inside, claws digging deep into your mind. It sang softly, a high pitched whisper, a ringing right in your ears. Rythmic thumps accompanied it in a cruel joke, broken heart forced to continue beating against its own will.
Hand gripped railing marked by time, stairs creaked under legs. As if the house itself was laughing at you with pity. You gritted teeth, skipping a few steeps till you reached first floor. YES, YES. Your fingers trembled, a pull growing stronger the closer you got to your bedroom.
You glanced over your shoulder, at empty corridor. No one was there to witness, yet it felt like someone could catch you doing a crime any seconds now.
You slowly kneeled besides bed. Then closed eyes. A deep breath. Inhale. Exhale. Floral smell, from freshly washed sheets. Yes, focus on that. Your eyelids slowly rose. Pupils constricted at warm light. Take it, take it, TAKE IT.
You tried to fight with urgent whispers in the corners of your mind. With invisible force tugging you towards suitcase hidden below furniture. Not for long, though. It felt like in a blink of an eye; when did you open that?
Familiar weight laid on your skin. Stained by blood it drew. Perhaps if you listened real closely, you could hear screams trapped inside. Cries of souls whose lives abruptly ended, all because of you.
But oh, how good it felt to wield it. Sweet promises, dreams of bloodshed. One you yearned for, although was disgusted at the mere idea of it at the same time. The duality of your existence; gentle heart unwillingly housing rabid dog. Merciless deal keeping him feeding on your flesh. Gnawing on the chain you keep him at; you know what happens when he slips loose.
Look at it, so GORGEOUS.
PULL THE TR̵̛͇Í̵̫Ģ̴͌GER̷͙̄.
You immediately snapped back to reality, startled by the whisper. Coiled muscles forced to pull away, dropped your pistol. You growled in displeasure, trying to mentaly yank the leash. You should be more aware what are you doing. A heavy sigh escaped you, before you slowly picked the semi again. Unloaded it just in case.
Just one shot. Just a LITTLE OF B̸̜̱̱̊̏͗͊L̶̅OÖ̷́̇͆D̶̛̼̈̄̇̀̉̓̑.
Sharp thud echoed off walls after you slammed shut suitcase.
No. Didn't you have enough of violence already? How long that war was going on, with IPC playing around, before you escaped? Trying to take hostages to study your kind, from what you have heard? Taverns, that once had steady flow of beer and wine, served stream of blood instead. SUCH A BEAUTIFUL MEMORY. In the morning fog fresh bodies emanated steam. Sweet scent of rot hang in the air between houses yet not raided. YOU SHOULD MAKE IT HAPPEN HERE AS WELL. City streets eerily empty, if not for arrows and bullet holes littering walls and roads.
No. Your weapons will remain sheathed.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
Sun tickled your skin, covering it like warm blanket. Gentle breeze tugged at your clothes, wanting to lead you places untraveled yet, soar clean skies with it. Alas, you bore no wings to join it in its adventures.
You slowly opened eyes, making a long exhale. A hint of upcoming rain was in the air, hidden amidst smell of blooming flowers. A speck of peace resided in your heart when so deep in the woods. Yet, your mind was always on guard. You never could truly let the shield down, else the curse would immediately take opportunity to strike. But this... Was the closest you got to rest.
There was also something else clawing at your insides, chewing on your bones.
Boredom.
What were you supposed to do? In theory, this plan appeared good. Buy Rent affordable house in the forest, similar to the one you had in previous life. Retire from killing anything that moves. Try to relax, since that damned curse quiets down when you are not stressed out. Urges were not as strong, intrusive thoughts kept in the shadows of your brain, not stepping out of line too much.
But what exactly were you supposed to do now, after achieving it? You were beginning to know this place like the own pocket, after so many hours spent here. You practice archery... No, not in the mood for that. Cooking? It's just watching fire as meat gains color. Practicing archery, exercising, hunting? Exahusting. Also, violence could trigger those fuckers. Maybe crocheting? Learning a new skill seems like a lot of trouble... Perhaps that was the issue. You felt so burned out and bored, nothing actually sounded good.
An apple fell on your head, causing brief spark of dull pain. Alas, it too, had no idea how to fix you, no plan that it could bang into your skull. Instead, you bit into the fruit. Refreshing juice dripped down your chin, while you scanned the area once more. Deer herd was still nearby. A few newcomers joined them even. Some of the original crew did not seem too pleased with it, watching them graze too close for their liking.
Antlers beging clashing against each other, giving you opportunity to slip away unnoticed. Patches of grass already gave up, revealing trail you used to come here. Perhaps another sign you had a tad too much time on your hand. Maybe you should take up on some work? Something with farm animals? Outside combat, animals and a little bit of gardening was probably main thing you overlooked in the past. Not that you needed money so desperately, at least not yet... Dirty work can bring a good coin if you know where to look at. For better or worse, you had best experience in just that.
You stopped dead in your track, black scales shining slightly in patches of sunshine breaking through tree branches. You stared at it emptily. Sometimes, such loud place as your mind could go completely blank. Like now, dead eyes following snake crossing the path with all time in the world.
You stood there, dissociating for a good while, long after it disappeared on the other side in the bushes. Was wildlife rehaber a hard job?
When your legs finally began to work again, you headed down another, well known road.
It wasn't long, before you reached the house. Keys jingled as you laid them near entrance, their chime echoing off the hall. Your own footsteps accompanied you on the way up grumpy stairs. Hand slid up railing along, subconsciously looking for warmth.
Alas, grip of cold wood had to suffice.
Take it. TAKE IT.
You took a sharp turn and headed to much smaller room instead, one you took as your bedroom. Close enough to quickly arm yourself, but far enough not to trigger the curse too much.
You weapons will remain sheathed.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
DESTROY IT, KILL!
You grumbled in annoyance, burying head deeper into sheets. Dear curse, you can't exactly kill sun.
You did not listen to it's calls, nor tingling need at the tip of your fingers. Anger boiled under the skin, despite situation being so mundane.
It was relentless. And the longer you tried to be pacifist civilian, the more pent up your soul felt. The beast inside howled in frustration, teeth sinking deep into your flesh.
Metalic taste. Of blood. Yours? Perhaps. A shame. You don't feel any pain, though. CAN CHANGE THAT. No red in sight. Phantom taste? A flash of your own attire soaked to the bone with crimson.
You shook your head. Jaw shut so tightly, your teeth ached. Blood rang in your head from the pressure. You stood up abruptly, sheets fell to the floor with soft thud. Not that you cared.
You don't remember trip to kitchen. Your conscious mind had only one, single thought - to get rid of that flashback somehow. Of phantom smell, warm liquid in your mouth. To silence the curse whispering so sweetly, reminding you the screams. To somehow quiet down that spark of excitement, adrenaline rush you were so addicted to. To trample that spark of disgusting joy.
How fucked up you were, that you found such pleasure in violence?
The first slice of bread you stuffed into yourself, was bare and sad like your social life. For the second one, you calmed enough to find an ounce of sanity. You settled down and made a few more sandwiches with favorite toppings, staring emptily into ether. Dissociation might be a bitch sometimes, but it was the bag that held together all of your broken pieces.
When you finally returned back to reality, after your usual after-meal stare down with the fridge, you headed to exit. Haunting memories were nothing new. You sank into comfortable emptiness settling in your heart. Better to be numb, than in pain. The less negative emotions, the less voices in your head.
Days here are way too long. Which means you got to find yourself something to do. Garden could still use some work...
A fine shovel will be excellent companion. Your weapons will remain sheathed.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
Breeze slid over your skin, like lovers gentle caress. Wind carried hundreds of dandelion seeds, tiny specks surfing invisible currents. Birds sang at the top of their lungs, a private orchestry for evening land. You could smell faintly petrichor. Hair on your body stood up slightly, feeling a barely noticable change in static. Upcoming rain... As much as cracked, dry soil needed it here, you certainly did not share the excitement.
Fresh track. Dirt scattered, earth dug. Deers must have dug for roots here. A snapped young branch here and there; clearly gnawed on. You were on the good path.
You lived with this curse for so long. Yet, you never truly uncovered full truth about it. The thrill of the hunt made your heart beat faster, mind sharper. At the same time, the whispers faded. Until you located the victim, that is. It was then, when they screamed the loudest, guided your hands to cause unimaginable suffering.
Hey, maybe you should try wildlife photography? Enjoyment of following them, without causing harm... Maybe it is not bad idea. A way to sate the hunger, without killing.
You feared that won't be an option today, though. Your hands gripped bow tightly, annoying itch crawling under your skin. A yearning to bite and slash, to taste death. From morning till evening now, you were restless. Coming up and down the stairs, wanting to pick up weapons. Be tempted, resist, be tempted again. Today, they won.
Sticks and horns prickled your bare foot. Pain was a distraction, as well as grounding sensation at the same time. Although it stirred flame buried deep inside, it helped you to watch where to step. Which matters a lot, when you have grazing herd in front of you.
Ground soaked the impact of their hooves like sponge, a secret ally to guide you towards them. Your heart rate spiked up again, familiar need tingling at the tips of your fingers again. Hideous butterflies rose in your stomach, ones far from the beauty.
A flash of phantom feel washed over you again. Teeth's sinking into meat, juice flowing down your chin. Smell of smoke. Warmth of fire. Weight of heavy skin resting on your shoulders. And the most important part, don't forget it! BLOOD, THE DELICIOUS THING KEEPING THEM ALIVE, IT'S YOURS FOR TAKING.
You snapped back, shaking your head. Eyes shut close, trying to black out scraps of visual memories. Muscles tensed, lungs forced in a long, slow breath. Dry earth beneath. Scent of blooming flowers. Yes, focus on those smells. There you are. In the forest, on a hunt. Feel fallen leaves between your fingers.
You gripped a handful of nearby dandelions (there was so many of them, you were surprised they didn't force out competition), then stuffed them into your mouth. There. That damned stain on your soul can suck you off. With bitter stinging your tongue, it will be hard to imagine any other taste.
Another deep inhale. Longer exhale. Left foot forward, right foot forward. Back on track. You were close - unless they moved while you were distracted - so you have to be careful.
Time was a mere concept in such moments like those. Careful sliding from one tree to another. Stopping by, listening to quiet rustling. Stalking again, untill you could see splashes of brown between leaves as they searched for food. Cautious, alert; but not enough.
You approached closer. One step at the time, only went they made noise themselves. Doing so lowered your chance of being noticed. JUST GET UP AND CHASE THEM. RUN TILL THEY DROP DEAD FROM EXHAUSTION!
No rest for the wicked. You had peace of mind for too long for their liking, it seems.
A small clearing was your chance. Your muscles coiled, trembling slightly. Be it from adrenaline or tiredness of being so tense all the time, you didn't know. Hands started to sweat, eyes fixated on one particular buck out of the three of them. A deep slash ran across it's shoulder, limiting it mobility. IT WON'T BE ABLE TO ESCAPE.
The curse tickled right under your skin once more. A pull, trying to navigate you forward. Whispering sweetly to bare your teeth. To sink your nails into softness of their BELLY AND RIP. STAB AGAIN AND AGAIN-
You purposefully dipped your hand into neetle bush. Stinging brought back some focus to your mind. Enough to inch closer. Aim. Deep inhale, followed by string being pulled back. With slow exhale through your nose, the arrow was sent flying.
Buck jumped up at sudden impact, then darted away.
Go after it, Go,
GO! TAKE IT, Ķ̷̲͚̾̏̀I̵̝̒L̶͕̯̙̹̮͐̿͒Ḻ̸̳̈́͂͆̔̎ ̴̙͇͆̍̐͘Ǐ̵̧̝̺́͝͝ͅṮ̴̼͙̰̈ͅ RIP I̸̭̣̠͂́͆ ̴̝͓̌̆͊̕T̶̢̖͎̱͋̾͠!
Ś̶̮͕͇T̴̙̼̪̰̮̚͝A̶̮͖̣̺͑́B̸̡̹͗͒̓̀͘,
T̸̛̲͍̝͕͚̄͋̔͗Ę̷̨̡̡̛̟̭̬̖̫̇͂̈́̓̏̈́A̶̰̥͓͑̍̈́̓͑͋̇̓̕Ṛ̵̿̐̀͠ ̴̙̠̒̈́͗̔̇͂͝.
H̵̢̺̲̺͗̈A̷̟̦̭̯̚͠Ņ̸̳̝̥̤͍͉̭͛͐̈̃̊͜͝ͅG̵̛̰̩̩̟̙͇̭͌̑̇͑͋͝ ̴̹͔̺̌̾̕͠Ḯ̷͙̱͇̳̲̮̓̔͘͝͝Ṱ̷̙̥͍̤͇̘̲̫̎͋̋̀̌͘ W̴I̷T̸H̵ ̵I̴T̷S̶ O̸̯̦̮͍̓Ẁ̶̢̍̈́̍͝N̸̲̭͔͖̥͂̂̑̂
Ȋ̵̛̛̛̬̩̘̯̲̮̹̩̺̳̯̝̹̙̥̉̿͑̂̽̒́͗̓͆̓͗̑̋̓̉̅͌̍̈̐̂̇̈͗̎͒̆͊̽̎͋̏̋̋́̄̑̈̋̐̇́̿̇̂̅̋̊̀̉̾̈́͆̾̓͊̃̌̈́͐͂͑̐̎̄͑̐̎͌̄̆̈̀̑̏͌͋̅́̀͛̍̏̚͘͘̕̕͝͝͠N̷̡̢̛̥̼̜̫̰̻͍̦̻͕͖̖͙̮̹̝͉̝̗͚̠͇̩͓̜͇̞̺̦̖͎̣̰̤͓̱̮̤̫͎̑͋̋̽̔́̓͌́́̈̔̈́̃͗̉̆̊̌̈́͒̈́͋͋̍̉͌̎̈̋́̂̉̒́͐͊̑̿̽͛͂͌̈̈́̈́́͛́̈́̎̋̑̍̾̾̀̅͛́̈͊͘͘̕̕͘͘͘̕͜͜͜͝͝͝ͅT̷̢̡̢̡̧̛͍̥̦̹͇̤͚͙̪̤̝̺̜͉̥͉̖̮̦͔͈͉̝̬͔̟͈̱͚̲̤̈́͐̓̌̑͒̎͐̓̃̃͊̈́̈́̎̀͋͂̈́̄̒͌͌͂̃̇̈́̕͜͜͜͜͠͝ͅȨ̷̡̨̟͉̫͙̭͔͓̻̬̯̟͙̠̰͎͖͖̪̻̹̖͉̺͙̙̗̘͖̯̲͉̙̥͉̬̬͙̘͖̹̰͕̳̜̝̱̻͕̩͕̈́̅͐̆͐͗̎̑̒̊͊͌̔͐͑̆͊̍͑̉̿̂͋̆̉̍͋̀̊͛́̆̈́̂̃̒́͂̒̂̈́̈̆̋͑̎̄̿̊͂͛̊̀̏̈́͘͘͘̚͘͘̚͜͜͝͠͝ͅͅS̷̨̢̧̨̧̨̡͉̤̖̲̜͕̱̭̲̣̤̦̮̲͙̺͖͚̱̲͍͕̞̠͇͎̩̗̱̝̣͉̭̳͖̥͖̜͓̦̰̪̩̠͉̣̒̿̆̈́͜T̷̨̨̢̧̧̨̛͔̜̬̲̥̜̖̘̝͕̭̹͍̼̲̝̩̙̪̲͉̖͔̼̙̙̳̠̖̣̜͕̺̙̜̫͍̤̦͉͓̹̩̝̹̑͆̎͊̓̿̅̀̈́́̓̾̄̀̓͆̋̓̄̆̈́̔̎̍̏̆̽̈́̌̆̂̓̾̽͌̒̒̏̉̚̕̕͘͝ͅI̵̧̧̲̗̘̪̫̱̪̫̬̝͉̮̰͎͕̺̟̺̺̅́̉͌̂̐̈́͆̇̈́͝ͅǸ̴̖̲͗̈̂̈̉͂̈́̃̀̓̊̅̿̋̓̀̋̏͆̑̈́͒͂̀͊͂̒͂͂̂̂̍͒̈́͑̚͠͝Ȩ̴̧̡̢̡̢̢̡̧̦̲̙̪͔̱̠̱̟͍̺̲̺͖̫͔̹͍̜͓̱͔̳͔͙͔̫̰̦͔͈̥͖̟͇͇̘̱͎̤̩̤̝̻̱̪̖͇̜̜͚͓̹͉̙̗̰͉̭̙͍̩̗͈̩̮̂̓͂̔̚͜͜ͅͅ
G̵̡̨̨̧̡̨̢̨̧̡͈̜̼̱̫̜̞͙͔̦̲̯̝̫͕̠͚͇̦̺͉̺̺̼̳̻̬̺̩̳̣͈̖̣̦͔̠̩̭̱̳̗̗̳͚̣̫̜̹̺̠̟͚̰̣̗̦̯̝͉͉̰̮̗̪̱͚̜̱͙̲̞͎͉͔̥͓͚̳͖̩̩̻̦̠͇͉̺̲̲͒̋̄̈́͋̾̓͛̽͒͑̔͆̐̌͊͐̅͊͋̒̾̔͆̐̓͋͋͛͋͂̆̏̓͂͐̆͋̈́̒͂͘̕̚̚͜͜͝͝ͅͅÄ̶̢̧̢̢̢̨̡̨̡̢̛̠͍̼̱̝͖̝̖̭̺̣̤̹̙͖̫̠̯̭͙̠̯̥͖̩͚̜͇͔̘̲̼̬̫͍͚͉̹̳̤̙̳̣͓͕̼̠̭͙͍͙͓̣͙̝͇͍̠͍̝̭͖͍͖͙̤̫̣̺͈͇̹̺̜̩̣̺̮͕̠̜̖̣́̓̓̿̆̉̅̾̍́̇̈́̃̈́̃͗̈́̈́͒̋̉̿̓̈́̀̍̊̆͌̅̒͐̚͜͜͜͜͝ͅͅŲ̶̢̹͖̱͚͙̝̳̯̪̯̮̞̺͓͙̼̪͕̙͉͕̹̝̍̓̀̆̓̆̊͒̃̾͐̆̇͌͐̓͑͑̓̓̅͋͗̆̄̎̎͐̇́̎̿̽̔͘̕Ģ̵̨̨̡̧̛͔̬̜̫̲͕̫̠͇͈̙̭͚͎̻͕̰̫͈̰̼͍̬̙̹͖̝͉̘͚̥̪͖͕̺̦͔͚̭͕͆̊̍̐͐̉̇͊̈́̑͊̅̃̈̍̓͌̓͆̉̀̂̀̈̓̉̃̓̊̓͊̈́̈̍͊͛̈́̿̓̀̃̄̀̊͊́͆͗̑͗̃͛͊͐͆̈́̄̿̓̎̉̐̎͘̚̕͘͘̕͜͜͝͝͝͠͠͝͝ͅͅĖ̵̢̺͈͙̼͇̭̟̯̪̝̮̗̙̐̓͐̓̉̄̅̽͌̃̔̇͆͊̋̾͋̃̉̋̔̾̿͌̂̓̍̏̀̈́̈̃̉́̈́͊̓͆̽̑̿̆̇̆̂͂͊̔́̆͘̚͘̕̕͘͝͝͝͝͝͝͠͠ ̵̡̨̛̛̛͖͉̯͈̝̻̩̜̤̗̻̖̲͈̙̫̻̜͉͇͇̮̘̰͍̘̖͎̗̰̦̦̼̬̮̤̩̖̙̭͖̠̲͉̬̰͍̮̮̥͇͍̏̀͑̎̾̋̌̈́̄̐͌͒̍̾͋̉͂̒͂̈͋͗̎̒͗͗͛̍́͐̍͗̓͊̐́̇͛̕̕̚̕͘͘͜͝͝ͅŢ̶̧̧̧̡̡̡̡̡̡̨̡̨̛̛̬̺̫͉̮̺̯̜̻̻̘͈̗̝̞̹̥̘̭̺̟̳̮̩̠̟̞͍̫̝̹̤͔͔̗͕͚͇̦̪͓̯̦͓̤͖͈̱͔̲̻̼̞͈͈͈̮͓̼̗̯̥̪͕̘̪̰̝̜̙̣͉̯̫̗̙͉̯͎͈͉͕̞̘̤̉͆̈́̓͂̓̇̎̍͌̓̃͌͋͒̍̍͌̀͋̽̈̄̀̾̒̿͆͐̑̍̓̀̐͐͆̿̔͑̔̾̉̒̇͆͒͂̓͐̐́̽̒̌̈́́͗͂́̇̕͘̚͘̕͜͠͝͠Ḧ̸̛̛̖̹̳͈̼͔͕̟̟͍͖͖̰̞̥̜̼͖͎̫͖͚̮̭͎̬̻̳̓̾͊̽̈́̉̊̌̀̐̈́̃̀͊́́̀̊̊́̎̉̑̓̔̂͑̉͊͐͒̓̆͐̏̀̊̀̿̈́̆̇̈́͒̽̅͂̒̀̑̉͋͂͛̃̈̋̐͗̏̚͘͝͝͝͠Ę̵̢̧̧̨̧̨̧̡̡̛̛̤͎̯̳̲̬̹̥̮͚͖͉̮̟̗͓̦̟̻̙͕̹̺̪͕̱͇̣͎͉͎̻̝̲̮̞͉̳̲͈̝͓̲̖͓̯̮̭̤͕̼͓̱̪͔̪͙̝̻̘̘̻̱͕̙̝̺̱̖̻̻͍̥͎̹͓̞̬͙̫͉̦̥͕̠͚̬͈̠͖̻͚̪̄̈͗̆̒͑̊̈́̃̅̇́́̓͌̍̈́̊̑͆̈́͐̓̒̒̂̍͊̀̄̎̔̑͆̄̈̒̏͘͝ͅͅͅ ̷̨̨̧̡̛̛̛̛̩̮͈͖͎͍̲͚̪͍͖̮̙̖̙͉̰̥̭͕̜͔̳̳̜̘̦̱͉̟̰̦̳̮͍̮͉̞̯̤͔̣͖̯̖̯͎͖̤̍̄̅̀̉̊̿̍̈́̽͗͗̽̉̇̀̿̿̌̈̔͆͛̇̈́̒͛̌͒̅̔̋͛͛͊̀͒́̏̉̏́̽̂̓́͊͆́͒́͒̌̓͋̍͐̄̊̏͊̅͛̀̍̊̂͊̉̇̂͊̾̄͋͐̈́̏́̚̕͘͘͝͠͝͝ͅͅE̵̹̺͙̪̘̙͌̑̅̇̍̌͌̋̆̈́̆͜Y̸̡̧̡̧̢̧̛̛̲͔͙̝̩̞͉̖͍̩̙͉͍͖̱̱̙̳͎͔̯̘̺̟͍̰̭͚̖̭̦̘͔̰͉̻̩̥̘̻̦̺̰̟̣̗̣̻͇̤͓̯̹̳̮͇͒̈́̈́͐͆͛̐̇̍͐͒̓̉̀̈́̈́̏̃̈́͗̎̾̇͆̈́̏̈́̏̄̂̊̌̂̾̀̿͆̎̔̈̅̾̐́͒̀̓̈́͗͋̓͒̓̃̊̍̔̏͒̌̃̈́̇̏͌̀͒̚͘̕͘͘͘͠͠͝͝ͅͅȄ̶̡̨̨̛̛̱͙͚͇̥̥͚̜̊̑̓̎͆̆̎̎̇͋̈́̈́͆͛̽̏́̔͗͂̂̀͊͌͐̇͐̿͑̒̈́̏͒̉͊̆̃͑͑̀͂̾̂̉̕̕̕̕͝͝͝͝͝S̷̢̨̟̣͉͍͉̼̞̗͖͈̯̩̠̰̞̳̥̼̺̖͎͓̲̼͙̞̩̖̱͙̤͔̮͈͔̻̬̱̭̙̳̪͌̈́͐͒̀̀͐͛͂̈́͐͆̓̽̈͐́͋̈́̕͝͠͝!̸̡̨̡̨̢̧̡̧͖̮͚̲̮̯͉͔̟͖̜̰̟̥͎̤͍͎͍̝͎̤̙̺͔͇̝̝̪̥͉͚̰̖͕̦͉̰̬̥͓̰̤͖̲̞͖͉̟̟̻̗͇̘̮̼̤̱̜̜͓̟͔͍̗̣̟̹͕̙̯̉͊̑̕͝ͅ
A gentle, scratching sensation on your arm. Something moving. With many legs.
You finally dared to open your eyes and lift your head, after who knows how long. Elbows still firmly planted against the ground, locked in place to hold yourself together after the screams in your skull erupted with full power. Starving them was definitely not a good idea.
Tiny millipede crawled on your hand. As if it's tiny body was nature's gift, a way of patting your shoulder pitifully. Antennas searched as it matched forward with purpose unknown.
Your breathing began to finally slow down, pounding of own heartbeat stopped echoing in your head so loudly. You slowly turned palm over, holding up little buddy for closer inspections. SQUISH IT.
You disobeyed urge withing you, pointing finger towards nearby log. Critter followed down the bridge made out of your own flesh, soon to disappear beneath bark.
You still got to track down, as well as possibly finish off the deer. Alas, you were not sure if you could hold yourself back this time. You thought you could ignore that yearning forever? HOW PATHETIC.
You were made to destroy.
Not for peace nor gentleness.
Your weapons will not remain sheathed.
Chapter Text
SO MANY BODIES TO TEAR TO SHREDS.
Streets were breeding ground for people. Perhaps they rushed to work, perhaps to their homes. Each time someone brushed past too close for your liking, your muscles tensed in anticipation for a strike to the back. They just wait for the opportunity. ATTACK FIRST.
Your eyes kept jumping from one face to another. Old, tired man. Slouched posture. A civilian. A mother with two kids was a safe bet. Children are often used to CARRY HIDDEN BOMBS. Oh, shut it.
You hated cities. Turning right on the crossroad, you wrinkled your nose at the smell of fumes. What a shit show. All those fancy vehicles, yet the only thing they do is pollute the air. Horses were better. And you could always kill one to catch the rider.
Wide roads. Narrow alleys, most of them dead end. No good sight seeing places. At least no ones that wouldn't turn into your coffin.
You quickened your pace. As if it wasn't already fast before. Water puddles splashed under boots. Walking on blood sounds just as pleasantly. Your knuckles paled, gripping edges of your cloak tighter. Finding waterproof one was a pain in the ass, but it was worth every penny. Your skin crawled at the mere idea of being drenched right now. A feeling eerily familiar for the wrong reasons.
Another turn. A signboard you saw a few times already. You made beeline for it, ignoring other flashy posters; Promises never fullfiled, dreams never to be granted. Empty catch phrases meant to attract the naive. The bar you entered wasn't much better; colorful menu with photos far from reality. Artificially aged up, yellowed, with ripped edges.
Fake was good enough. Tables were dull, paled legs, corners. But on closer inspection it too, proved to be just a trick.
That will do for now. Unlike other estabilishments around, this one brought a feeling of nostalgia. A memory of old times, when life sometimes could be easier. Quieter. So you allowed that charm to lull you into imitation of safety. Something you never fully tapped into since a long, long time.
Alas, if home sickness was the only thing troubling you, you wouldnt be at place for drunkards. Familiarity of wilderness is what you usually escaped to. Not this time; You needed information. Easiest way to find it? listen to tongues loosened up by liquor.
"Whisky. With Ice." Your voice cut through the background chatter, as you tossed some coins on the counter.
While your gaze was glued to stranger in front of you, senses worked over time. Muscles coiled like spring about to snap. Feet apart; ready to turn around, run if needed, at any second. One hand rested on the wooden edge, nails tapping anxiously. Second, gripping your belt. Although at rest, dangerously close to a weapon. Handle seemed to whisper sweet words, nagging your fingers to inch towards it. There was comfort in feeling the hilt under your palm, as well as dreading fear at the same time. Like they say; a double edged sword. YOU ALL BLEED THE SAME.
Bar keeper looked you up and down, brows raised up. He turned one of coins a few times, raising it higher for better lighting.
"I can't remember the last time someone paid with those." He laughed. It was a soft giggle, easy for the ears. Like a chime of wind bells. It would sound even better when a blade stops it, GURGLE OF BLOOD AS HE CHOKES, MELODY EVEN SWEETER.
No. You gripped belt tighter. Away from gun. Jaw clenched so tight, it hurt. You tilted your head slightly, stopping yourself from shaking it. As if it could make the voice go away.
You didn't answer, hoping he will just give what you ordered.
Young man seemed to get the message. He cleared his throat and gave you odd smile. Probably a stress response. His fingers fumbled a little as he grabbed clean glass. Nonetheless, a drink was served right. You simply nodded, taking it to hide in a corner of the room. Only sitting down with your back towards the wall, you allowed your muscles to relax the tiniest bit.
A sigh of exahustion escaped you, eyes closing for brief moment. Golden liquid traveled down your throat as you swallowed, leaving trail of burning sensation behind. Good. This was what you needed. Alcohol in your veins will help you relax a tiny bit, while discomfort will ground you. Intoxication and slight pain might quiet down the urges.
Your mind might wander, but it didnt take long, before it was drawn back to what it always did; assesing the surroundings. There were only two exits, public and staff room one. No windows either, a shame. But you were not really hunted right now. Not anymore. Not yet.
Another dark memory forced itself into your thought. Sight of star ships appearing on the sky. Inhabitants of these lands slaughtered like lambs, caught in crossfire. Sound of burning forests, horrified screams and rapid gunshots of technology far beyond your understanding; one that made you realize, there are worse sounds than howling of hounds right behind your back. BUT OH, HOW BEAUTIFUL WERE FIELDS SOAKED IN BLOOD AS IF SUN BLEED OVER IT ITSELF. With IPC descending, It became clear to everyone; new ruler appeared on the horizon. Resisting had consequences.
All of this, for you to sit there, two years later. Wielding the same weapons they did. But now you knew who they are. Now your masters, his underlings and business partners all were dead. If it wasn't for that curse, you too, would be. You wondered sometimes, if world was actually better off without them; or if shady businesses simply found new ways, like rats bundled in sewers.
Sweaty palms loudly slammed agaist round table. You flinched, tensing immidaitely. SHOOT, SH̴͖͆O̵̗̍OT̴͕̒ THEM ALL! Glass with remaining whisky cracked slightly at the pressure of fingers squeezing it. Your gaze, now sharp, alert, was pinned to stranger. Fifteen meters away. Face twisted in anger. His mouth spat out curses, accusing his opponent of cheating. A game of cards. It was only someone not able to accept defeat. BUT WHAT IF H̴̬͔͕̑͑E̴̢͚͑̌̿̑̓ HAS A WEAPON? TAKE OUT THE THREAT JUST IN CASE. YOU HAVE CLEAN SHOT. You forced yourself to place down your drink, before it crumbled in your palm. It's just civilian. A small dispute.
Unclenching your jaw was not something that came natural. Nor taking the other hand away from your weapon. You did not register when exactly it moved from resting on table, to it's hilt.
A deep breath. Inhale. Exhale. Get your shit together. One swing left cracked glass empty of its content.
You leaned back in your chair. People around kept spitting meaningless sentences, void of any significance. Looks like today was not your day.
That's okay. There were some other hints you could explore under the cover of night.
You stood up, immediately feeling strangers gazes at you. It made your skin crawl. Heart rate spiked up. Tension crawled back into your muscles. You headed towards staff member, each step confident. Or so it seemed. Posture so straight and rigid, some customers wondered if you were soldier off duty. You paid no mind to their whispers.
"My apologies." You simply said, glancing briefly at the damage as you put down glass on the counter.
Before man could even notice damage, you turned around, immediately changing target to exit doors. Hopefully they don't take it out of poor employee's paycheck.
Doors shut behind you with quiet click. Sharp smell. Of blood. Close. Quiet ruffling on the left. Your gaze immediately followed instinct.
A peculiar sight. A man - or machine? A flicker of orange lit up his features. Head was of flesh. A cyborg? Armed. Distracted. STRIKE! No uniform. No symbols you could recognise.
Metalic fingers shielded lighter from wind, as the stranger bowed down towards it. A cigarette lied softly between rather pale lips. Fire licked other end of the roll, setting it aflame.
You glanced briefly at second silhouette. A young man. Bent over. Flesh. FLESH BLEEDS. Gripping with one hand corner of trash bin, as if his life depended on it. Other palm held base of his nose. Blood seeped out of both nostrils, mouth agape. He stood unsteadily, breathing heavily; no weapon in sight. A civilian? A VICTIM. Appears not to be much of threat. He is wounded. FINISH HIM. YOU CAN ALMOST TASTE THAT SWEET SMELL OF CR̴̞̪̬̠͖͓͋̍̀̅̉̆͠I̸͇͖̠̪̖̹͒̈́̕MS̶͙̝̃̐̓̈́̐͊͂͠Ō̶̲̃Ǹ̵͉̞͋̈́̐̑͂.
You glanced back at the first citizen. Unique hat. High boots. Spurs. Lasso attached to hip. A cowboy, here?
His gaze met yours. A crosshair instead of pupil. Bright red, just like end of his coffin nail.
You immediately straightened your back. By right was dead end. Going back bar was no option. Too many civilians. PAINT THE WALLS WITH THEIR INTESTINES. Cyborg was between you and only exit. He got you trapped.
You only realized you had moved hands, when you felt handle of a gun under your dominant one.
A star shaped point in his abdomen could be weak point. Head is one of course. BLOW UP HIS BRAIN!
"You can try, Darlin'. But let me tell ya, there aint many shooters that can draw quicker than me."
His soft purr took you a little offguard. Despite danger painted all over this man, his tone was light, teasing even. Many you've met overestimated their combat abilities. Was this was the case? Or perhaps his enhancements were just that good?
If you were not mistaken, he had revolver. They carry six rounds. Then it have to be reloaded. It could give you the seconds you needed - if he doesn't headshot you first. YOU WILL TEAR HIM TO PIECES FIRST. THEN TAKE OUT THE OTHER MAN.
You tilted your head ever so slightly, eyes still locked onto threat. Mind travelled through countless posibilities. Maybe you could avoid fight if you play it good. NO! MAKE HIM BLEED!
"He is a fucking maniac." You heard muffled curses from trashcan direction, but you dared not to look at the civilian.
"Listen, forker got what he deserved. I ain't the bad dog here." Cowboy spoke again, huffing a cloud of smoke your way. You crinkled your nose, low growl of displeasure escaping from depths of your throat. You squished down another urge to attack when he chuckled seeing your sour face. "I'll take care of him, alright. You go ahead. Unless yer spoiled apple like this muddle-fudger."
A trap? He already has you trapped. The alley was too small for more people to be hiding here. A local dispute, is all it is, surely.
A cautious step forward. Left, right. It is alright. You felt cold shriver go down your spine as you passed him by. He smelled strongly of gunpowder, cigs... and dirt? Grassy field. Machinery of his body hummed quietly. SIL̸͙̻̥͉͓̪̝̔̊Ȅ̵͚̤̯̘̩̄N̸̹̠̭̩͕̓CÉ̸̛̗̬̾ IT.
Interestingly enough, his eye dimmed. Crosshair was now grey with dull red dot in middle. Your back was probably as hard as rocks, having the strangers behind. You purposefuly took longer strides, turning the corner as fast as possible. COWARD.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
A small alley between two ancient buildings was hidden very well. A tall trashcan hid half of rotten, dark gate behind that imitated long forgotten pellet. Poison Ivy climbed on its edge, further providing cover, as well as keeping unwanted company away.
Such tricks did not work on you, though. Even with dutifully upkept image of mundane rubbish. Metal clasp tore off a bit of black, synthetic fur. Possibly from jacket of your target. You took a careful step above cardboard boxes eaten by mold. Hands roamed planks. Your fingers sank into soft wood in some places, smell of mushrooms hitting your nose. Alas, after few tries, you found what you've been looking for; slipping through the gaps, you finally felt lock on the other side.
Bingo.
It had to be troubling for them to slip through unnoticed, if they had to fumble with keys for a lock that was on the opposite side. Perhaps that was the point. Those who knew where to look for, could get in quickly. Those who searched, like you, had to waste some time. A few of passer-bys already yelled at you, as if you were hobo going through their trash, when you were checking other possible trails.
Not many people seemed to live here, though. You saw an old man go for a walk with a dog once, as well as very tired woman throwing away trash. But that was it.
So here you were, under cover of night as if it was cloak of invisibility, your mischief has begun. You could pick that lock, but why trouble yourself with such mundane things? A warm stream flowing through your veins will do; it pooled at your palm. Another puddle appeared; a loud clank marked lock falling apart. Metal metal slipped between your fingers, dripping with sizzle onto plants growing out of broken concrete below.
You shook your arm and tried to wipe as much - now golden - mass onto nearby wall before it solidified. With hope that no one will see that nuclear 'I'm here' sign a glowing liquid gave off, you opened the gate. If you are lucky, it will cool down without witnesses.
Let the fun begin.
Notes:
A bit shorter chapter this time, since it's calm before the storm :) We meet our dear cowboy for the first time! Although briefly for now, since reader isn't one to stick around without a reason. For now >:)
Thank you for kudos already! I'm surprised I got 'em so fast, I expected this fic to be buried for a while lol. Apologies for any mistakes, I'm mostly writing and editing it a bit sleep deprived lmao. Take care and let me know your thoughts if you wanna share!
Chapter 3: I have a lot on my mind... And, well, in it
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Of course you had to go underground. Of, fucking, course.
You grimaced at rather unpleasant smell, tightly gripping each cold metal bar, as you descended. Ladder wobbled slightly, producing anxiety inducting chimes. The lower you went, the darker it became.
Once your feet finally touched the ground, you sighed deeply. You rolled your shoulders; enjoyed the few seconds of comfort. A mere moment of quiet before the storm. The second you focused on your mission, taking confident step into the void, tension immediately creeped back in. But you were so used to it by now, you didn't even notice you subconsciously prepared for battle. This was the state you were in more often than not, after all.
Heat once more pooled at your palm. This time though, a small ball of light hoovered above your skin, struggling to keep it's shape. Alas, it mattered not if it was more of a puddle or floating sphere. All you cared about, was it's ability to cut path through shadows.
Seeing dry concrete was a pleasant surprise. Rocks and dirt marked clearly used trail. Crude attempts at vivid signatures painted the walls. Stagnat air only amplified sense of impeding doom. As if time slowed down before explosion of hidden bomb; when you're afraid of even breathing too loud.
There was no bomb of course, not that you knew of. Just some shady types you got contract for, who were gaining money in suspicious manner. It wasn't official wanted poster - but it paid well and allowed messy job. Which you excell at.
Besides. Working for government? It felt wrong. You took dirty job. You were far from rightful officer placing thieves in prison. Not to mention the purpose of the order; removing competition in that way wasn't exactly legal.
Hard to expect anything other from you. YOU BLED SO BEAUTIFULLY.
After a few minutes, tight corridor widened. Small led lights were hanged above gray door with "Exit" sprayed on it. Well. You stalked mostly subordinates. So back door it is.
You opened it with soft click that echoed in the room, as if the sound personally backhanded lone walls. Hallway was much more narrow. Old lightbulbs hanged from ceiling, quiet buzz of electricity filling the silence. Although muffled music from somewhere further away was so faint you did not notice it at first, you could still feel vibration traveling through ground. Lots of sparkly dust and broken glass crunched under your boots with each step. Ribbons threatened to tangle with your legs, yet were avoided skillfully.
By the time you reached the end of this space, each muscle was coiled tight like spring ready to snap back. Hand on the handle felt each wave of bass. Breath slowed, gaze focused.
You opened door with one swift move, immediately pulling out your semi. PULL, PULL, SHOOT THEIR B̴̤͆R̴͙̊A̷͕͝Ȋ̷͍Ñ̷̗S̴̘̅ O̴̍̓̉U̴͍̖͚͉̙͖̟̩̥͋T̵̢̞͍͈̠̮̩̂̀.
You stopped yourself in last second from pressing the trigger with young couple on sight. Ignoring bloodthirst ripping your organs inside out, you quickly shoved pistol back into sheath. Quick glance around; no one seemed to notice your misstep. Lucky day.
Area was big, for underground gathering. Filled to brim with people. Laughing. Smiling. Discussing with passion. Some of them were well dressed. Businessmen. They kept in small groups. Others looked more like civilians. No children. Men mostly.
By your right a red head was collecting bets. Screaming over one another with clients. Cash and coins landed in small box on his desk. No credit cards in sight.
You progressed further. Tearing through masses you realized there was pit in the middle. Stairs marked the point where ground began to descent. Civilians seemed to use them as a seat.
RIP THEIR Ą̸̢̛̦̘̩̦̫̫͖̍͌̄̇̕R̵̢͈͎̹̗͐̿̆̍̌͋̑͗̚̚̕͝ͅM̶̨̭̭͉̦̰͓̉́̿̔̉̔̕̚ͅ Ờ̴͕̮̞͆̆͠F̸̹̀̔̈́͝͝͝F̶̡̛͇̦̦̥͋-
"Ah-! What the hell are you doing?" A middle aged woman yelped, trying to back away from you.
You blinked, your memory taking a second to catch up with your reflexes. Someone elblowed you while trying to pass by.
Your gaze slid down your own limb. Fingers curled tightly around this person's forearm. Strong enough to cause bruises, surely.
"Do not touch me." You barked above chatter mixed with melody, tearing your palm off them with disgust.
Sharp turn, quick step - no time for common disputes. You had a target - someone called "Cujo". If others stay out of your way, they will be spared.
Though, you had a gnawing thought that you already knew what this place was. As well as why civilians participated.
Move, for fucks sake, you scolded yourself. Left foot forward. Right foot forward. Current objective; explore this place, possibly locate target. Focus on that. Not on the smell of blood. May sweat and perfumes of passer-bys keep masking it up.
SO MANY OF THEM. YOU COULD CUT THEM LIKE TREES. You licked your lips, unknowingly squeezing handle of your blade. A cold shiver went down your spine when someone brushed against your side again. You turned around, ready to rip their throat with your own teeth. A WARM C̶̯͝R̶̢̠͛͒I̴̖̋M̸͔̥̐SON̶͖͕̒ TO WARM YOUR INSIDES, SOUNDS LIKE DELICIOUS MḚ̶̖̤̈̂AL.
You stared at the back of hooded head with violence in your eyes, untill they disappeared in the sea of faces. Get a grip. Even if they are doing what you think they do, you can't just begin slaughter here. NO ONE IS STOPPING YOU.
Crowd formed wall made out of bodies at the lowest point of gathering. Standing above, you could see the same happened on the other side of pit below them. Sadistic souls leaning on the railings, looking down at those fighting. You clenched jaw and backed out, climbing stairs back to betting counters.
You took place in the queue, staring emptily at the orange lights above. A few had taken the opportunity of your distraction and cut in line, but you were too spaced out to notice. Untill a pat on the shoulder snapped you back to reality. MAKE HIM PAY. Hand immediately draw gun, it's tip pressed under jaw of taller man. BLOW HIS M̷͚͓̽̽ͅI̴̡̻̼̎̒͠Ǹ̴̻̩D̵̼̿̕, E̵̯̫͌̀X̷̣͕̄P̶̡̭͆Ļ̶̹̇̀̔Ȍ̴̗̉̈́D̵̡̘͍̉̓͝Ĕ̵̖̮͛ THE SKULL.
Crowd around erupted with shocked gasp and calming speeches, while your opponent froze in place. Ķ̶̫̙̘̘̗̜̥̥̽͘Ì̴̧̧̼̫͚̲͍͖̪͍̙̗̎̐̑̈́͝L̴̮̩̤͖̫̺̰̮̄̈́͊̽̆̀̇̾̍̀͂͊L̸̨͍̣̙̜͓̳̙̯͋́ͅ THEM TOO.
"Don't touch me." You muttered, apologies dying on your tongue, mind lost in chaos. You shoved weapon back into its place, feeling hard stare of nearby guard on you.
"You better not fuck around with this thing. You betting or nah? I don't have entire day." 'Employee' spat out, tapping finger into printed out paper on desk.
You looked over what was probably possible names. Most letters had additional symbols or lines near them. Amount of wins, you guessed.
"Can I bet on them?" You decided, pointing opponent with no extra icons attached.
"Whatever." Red head shrugged, taking two bills from you. "So twenty on Espoir."
His face twisted subtly in something akin to disgust, before he threw small ticket towards you. Perhaps you had bet much less than others. Or maybe your stunt already gave you bad reputation, despite others carrying guns as well. You took the paper and backed out to some quieter corner, hoping to lay low for a moment. It was hard to find spot without someone, though. They were all around.
Talking. Gossiping. Discussing some odd shit. Air is so hot (LIKE FRESH C̸̨̘̞̗̆̀͆̿Ȍ̶̗̌̋̀R̵̡̭͚͈͆́̊P̵͚͈͇͔͖͂S̷̰̱͉̀E̷̜̭̍̎͠) from breaths mixing in. It feels almost claustrophobic with how many beings were here. On top of that? Loud, agitating music. JUST Ć̷̛̝L̵̲̯̋͝Ą̸̦̗̩͉̅́̍͑W̷̢̖̔̽̈́͘͝ THOSE SPEAKERS OUT. THEN GUT OUT DJ. Your skin crawled any time someone brushed past. Hair on your neck stood up at any sudden eruption of laughter you had not expected. THEY SHOULD S̵͉̺͇͈̦̪͋͊̄͛̃̑Ç̵͇͔̣͔͖̖͙̱̏R̵̢͖̣̄͋̈͌̾͑͐̍̽͘͜͠Ê̸̡̢͉̗͖͚̬̫͎Ȁ̶̧̢̩̣̱͇̻̪́̀͐̀͜M̶̢̟̱̫̥̳͚̭̙̩̀̈́́̅̏ FROM PAIN NOT JOY.
Your hands itched to pull out blade and slice, untill blissfully silence fills this forsaken place. To bite and slash AND C̶̥̤͗UT AND TEÅ̵̡͎̞R TILL IT'S ALL A L̷̹̂́A̶̯̕͘K̸̼͝E̶̹̰͋͐ OF R̨̧͓͕̠͇̯̗̤͈Ę̴̧̡͕̘̘̟̣̜̔̑̑̿̅̀͗̀̀̔D̵̢̝̮͔͊̾͋̉̃́̕͠.
Stop it. You grasped sides of your head to shelter ears, closing eyes as tightly as possible. It's all good. It's not you on the ring. Take a deep breath. Inhale. Exhale. Leave civilians out of it, no matter how fucked up things they got involved in. Feel how cold the floor is. Tiles broken like your sanity. Smooth. Creases between dipped lower. Your fingers could feel singular grains of sand rolling beneath. You even found a few small pebbles. A lot of glass shards as well.
You kneeled in the far right corner for a good while, calming yourself down. Peaceful mind meant you can actually think before reacting. Last thing you needed was to loose control, here out of all places.
Someone abruptly stopped those melodies from hell, forcing the crowd to loudly announce their displeasure. You did not have long to celebrate though, for speakers now bore voice of narrator. Another deep breath - time to head back towards pit.
Words mixed with chatter and whistling, leaving you barely able to recognize what was said. You heard name you betted on, and that was enough.
Muscles tensed. Throat closed, while stomach threatened to reject its own contents. Your body certainly was not fan of uninvited touch. You fought against nausea, though; to have place by railing, with best view, you had to be squeezed between others.
What drove you to first row? You could see dark stains in the arena below, blood unable to be washed away despite countless attempts. Metalic scent hoovered in air, sending yet another unpleasant shiver down your spine. You knew the feeling of standing there too closely. Back then, you looked up from below, rather than above as witness. Not dogs, not bulls or roosters, but other humans threw to fight against you.
Well. Not like it was a life you chosen. It's all memory now, focus on present.
White dog with black ring painted over its left eye entered ring. Wide jaw, muscular legs. Ears and tail cropped. Several scars marked the body, mix of old and new. On the other side was your choosen one. Black shepherd type, brown muzzle and paws. Longer fur and possibly more loose fur; good. It meant it had a chance to avoid heavy damage or set yourself free from grip.
You grimaced, tilting head at piercing whistle from your left. Civilians became excited even more than before, chanting "Orin, Orin!".
Your grip on railing tightened, seeing Espoir lunge towards ringed mutt the second handlers let them go. In famous canine fashion, they became balls of fur, trashing each other around. Ringed eye grabbed shepherds scruff, but it managed to twist itself free. Blood splattered onto the ground when it's ear was torn to shreds, pathetic whine escaping it. Orin took the opportunity and adjusted grip onto Espoir's throat, pinning it to the ground.
Everything was over in less that five minutes.
Bell marked the win of white dog. It's chime stayed ringing in your ears, deafening. Deep down you knew Espoir would loose. It is the reason you bet on it, did you not? You saw fear in eyes of your opponents. So many of them young, first timers who pleaded gods for strength. Pricks too sure of their wins, cowards refusing to fight. You wiped the floor with them all. Like their bodies, black canine was now dragged out by back legs, leaving trail of red. No one will question it's disappearence. No one searched for strays.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
You rubbed your face, listening to buzz of electricity from bulb above. You ran on autopilot again, scanning the crowd for face from poster ever since first dog fight. So, here you were now, in backrooms, piecing together bits of memories from last hour. Your hands were sweaty from stress, exhaustion prickling your tense muscles. Maybe it's not the easiest first job after vacation, given amount of temptation (AND SWEET, INNOCENT BODIES YOU COULD PUT SIX FEET UNDER) but you got this. Kill the wanted man, any guards then dip. Simple enough.
You stood at the bottom of stairs that led to your destination. Dog auction. While one was supposed to be held in main room, per employee announcement, this one was secret. Only for the richest or those with special invitations - probably IPC, there was a lot of them around. So if you want to find spoiled prick that deems himself as having best bully mixes? You can bet on having him here.
You took a deep breath, closing eyes for brief moment. When you opened them, you gaze was much more focused. Hand gripped tightly handle of your pistol, tension sank it's teeth deeper into your flesh. With tightly clenched jaw, you marched forward.
First floor (or at least you called it like that, this whole place was a mess to navigate) had more tamed appearance than the one below. Corridors here were cleaner, without as much graffiti coating dark grey walls.
Never ending barking of countless dogs led you to correct room like light attracted moths. The second you entered it, you thanked past self for knocking out guard and taking his gear; no one batted an eye when employee sneaked inside. Or maybe they were too focused on guy on elevated stage, holding by collar muzzled dog, spatting out words even faster than those animals woofed.
"Two thousand once, two thousands twice, sold!" He yelled out as handler in black took the dog away. Only for whole thing to repeat when another one was brought for a show.
You moved along edge of the room, scanning the crowd, before you spotted a man with scar on his left cheek. That was your man. Now all that was left, is to wait.
By second hour, you already had sneaked two drinks from makeshift bar in the corner. You walked around, memorized all three exists, all possible escape routes, overheard a lot of dirty secrets and things you certainly did not need to know. Maybe drinking wasn't best idea, but it helped to quiet down your anxiety.
You eyed repast section, odd looking buns with dark spread smeared on top. Although it did not smell bad, you were not putting pastry with something looking like shit in your mouth. Travelling cosmos shown you a lot of disgusting culinary discoveries, enough to stay away from anything other than what you grow or hunt yourself. Unless desperate times forced you to do otherwise.
You went for third lamp of wine, discreetly swapping it with your empty one. Downed this one instantly. Then you quickly left before anyone questioned why guard was drinking while on duty.
Thank Aeons, Stars, Gods or anything else in power, the meeting was finally coming to an end. Now you just had to follow the guy and finish him without witnesses if possible.
Action man began to hype everyone up for last deal, pure blooded Kangal. He trailed off, furrowing brows as he looked at doors which the second handler was supposed to come though. Then fear struck his face. Skin paled in shock.
"Oh, come on..." A low, amused voice spoke. "I thought pulling this thing out, was just a way of saying hello."
The owner of accented purr soon came into a view, gun pointed straight at the man is stage. The cyborg. From bar. What the hell was he doing here now?
Panic erupted, everyone standing up and trying to run away. No, no, NO! THAT WAS NOT THE PLAN. You clenched your jaw, teeth grating in protest.
First shot cut through air, making you immediately pull out pistol, though confused where to shoot. More bangs from all directions. People trampled over each other, attempting to flee through door you entered through. Now though, it appeared to be locked from outside.
Maniac laughter caught your attention, and you saw a flash of metal running around and picking off guards. Blazing red cross hair met your gaze. Both of you immediately aimed at the other, before civilians cut the line of sight.
He paused. Did not shoot. You? Pulled trigger. The exact second you got him on front sight. In the same time an older woman ran right in front of you with eyes closed in panic. Scream halted abruptly as she fell to the ground lifelessly with gaping hole in her skull, thud of warm body meaningless amidst chaos. BEAUTIFUL.
Fuck. You did not plan on killing civilians, no matter how much you grew to hate them with each eavesdropped sentence. You frantically looked around, trying to spot your target again. JUST SLAUGHTER THEM ALL.
Smell of blood. Their terrified screams. YOU COULD END THEM SO EASILY. This all was not helping with tingle under your skin.
You ducked behind turned over table, seeking cover from shootout. You could not make out where Cujo was. Might be somewhere at front, if not trampled under countless pairs of boots.
A hand. Gripping your arm. Reaching for your blade. You spinned around. Shooting before thinking. Your dominant hand unsheathed sword of your choice at the same time.
Eyes of young man widened in surprise. Mouth wide open as he tried to gasp. All that came out though, was a muffled gurgle. Your gaze slid lower, seeing blood splashing in rythic waves from wound in his throat. WHAT A GORGEOUS RIVER. COME ON, LEAN IN. TASTE IT.
You backed off a few steps, your own heartbeat deafening in your ears. You swallowed hard, gripping tighter handles of your weapons, unable to tear eyes off another dead rich kid. GOOD. ANOTHER SACRIFICE. THEY ADORE IT. YOU TOO, DON'T YOU?
At least untill bullet sliced through top of your ear. You flinched, startled, immediately diving back into work mindset. Finding Cujo was your main objective.
You began to rush from one cover to another, pushing away people who were in your way. A sharp pain shoot through your leg, resulting in you tripping. You had enough time to move arms forward, softening your collapse. On all four, you crawled towards closest cover. Another guard was behind it, shooting at the cyborg whenever possible. Seeing you approach, red trail behind you, he immediately grabbed handle of your vest to pull you into 'safety'.
"You alright mate, I got you." He assured you, deep voice carrying hint of accent you did not recognize.
Wordlessly you leaned against wood, letting him tend to your injury, convinced you were part of the team given your disguise. You closed eyes and clenched jaws at burning liquid cleaning your leg. You gripped tighter your semi, head tilting back with deep exhale. At least bandaging was less painful.
"Thanks." You finally murmured, watching him finish patching you up.
"Take care, cover if you can. He is alone vs all of us." Stranger tried to reassure you.
You didn't disclose that you weren't really on his side. Temporary ally is a good thing to have in such situation. Your eyes scanned the crowd yet again, trying to spot scarred face somewhere in kneeling and hiding people.
"We got it, we got it..." Guard mumbled again, trying to prove truth of his words more to himself than you.
You opened your mouth to respond, perhaps advice him to retreat.
Blood splattering over your face effectively stopped you from doing so.
OH SUCH P̶̡̰̗͝Ę̷̫͚̝̞̑̕R̴̢͇̣̥̓͒F̸͔̎͝É̷̗͒C̸̩̰̼̆̌̉̕T̷̨̯͔̽́ TASTE, DIVINE ̶̬͓̮̲͝S̴̤͍̘͆̆́̽̚͜M̷͍͎̹͒E̶̢̻̠̍̿͋͝Ḷ̴̅͗͐͐͛L̷̛̅͗̉͠!
You licked your lips on instinct, which only made the voices sign even louder, tingle of excitement (or adrenaline) washing over you the second your tongue felt crimson liquid on it. At the same time, guilt and horrified disgust squeezed your stomach into tight knot, acidic taste filling mouth.
You took a deep breath, watching now lifeless body of man that helped you just a moment ago. You had to admit, that cowboy had excellent aim; hit guard right between the eyes. A quick, clean death. A SHAME, HE COULD HAVE FUN WITH HIM. YOU SHOULD HAVE F̴̮̰̮̩͜͝Ů̸̲͐͋N̴̜͆̉ WITH THEM.
Take deep breaths. Feel the hilt under your palm, the weight of it. USE IT. Watch lights above, they flicker often. In a rhythm. Focus on that.
You tried. Futile attempt it was; shootout around you, cries, prayers and screams were too overstimulating. Sight of death, crimson, sweet pleas for mercy drawn out the worst part of you to the surface, no matter how hard you tried to hold it back.
You licked your lips again. Then stood up slowly, favoring healthy limb. You had to finish this job. You got so far, you can't fuck it up now.
You limped towards the biggest group of rich idiots, hoping to see face from poster. You pushed through the mass, so intent of finding the right man, you didn't even notice you slashed at those who were in the way with blade in your hand.
Another stop at furniture turned over. Red seeped through your bandage. Thousands of sharp needles prickled at your thigh, burning as if set aflame. You had no time to afford caring about it right now. It will heal soon anyway. Your curse and a blessing.
Another scared human came at you from behind. Pleas, cries for help already falling from his mouth as he practically ran into you, hands grabbing your arms.
World was a blur for split second. In which you pinned him to the ground. Muzzle shoved into his mouth. Your body acted on its own, pulling trigger before you even thought about backing off.
His bra̶̭͚̔̈́ȋ̶̡̠̣̯n splattered on dark tiles. Face forever frozen in fe̶̼̺̋a̶̻̔r̴̗͔̊̈́.
A loud sound startled you, hand automatically aiming and firing at direction. Which happened to be wife of the one you just k̷̎ḭ̵̧̡̲̓͝l̷̡͚̀͑̈́͆le̷̱͌̌̒͠d̸͎̤̎. She took three shots to a̶̜̲̾̈̏bd̷̑̇͑͜ò̵̼̪͔̺̖̈́͂̄̐ḿ̵̳̮͉̚ȇ̶͔͍̯͍͉̍͐̊n. Folded like lawn chair. Created amazing blood lake underneath her warm co̶̬̪̱̣̟̥͌͛̊r̶̀́͂̊p̸̧̛͖̺̯͇̼̺̞͔̹̙͂̊̃̐͗̎̕͝ͅse̸̝̭͖̬̲̬̠̹͙̤̭̔ ̷̮̝̣̜̟͍̲̉.
Another bang. Something ripped through muscles of your arm. You spun towards threat, pulling trigger over and over, with only empty clicks.
"Come on, try to kill me!"
A wave of rage filled you to brim at confident smirk of cyborg in front of you. Gun aimed at you, who does he think he is? You will wipe floor with him, rip out every wire.
You lunged at him. Blade slashed furiously. He either parried or avoided hit at all. This motherfucker. Tear him, tear him to shreds! Oh you will.
Another shot has landed, and you stubbled back when your non dominant hand let go of empty pistol. The audacity! Your arm was now useless. What a shit show - bring it to an end.
Some stray bullets distracted cowboy, though he took care of last guards quickly. Another attack - right in that star in his belly. YES, YES! Blue liquid began to leak, heavy grunt falling from his lips.
"Remember to aim for the heart." He taunted.
Oh, Y̵͖̅̓͜O̶̮̟͑̓Ủ̶̲̄ ̶̭̀̚W̴͇͙̽͂I̸̮͖͝L̴̳̉L̷̗̦͑̑. You will rip that pretty, mechanic organ with your B̵͙̂Á̸͊R̸͓̻̊͆Ë̸̞͙ ̸̞͆̈́H̵͚̐A̴̯͔̓̍N̸̮͗̀D̴͙̂̔S̴̡͂̉.
You ripped out sword. Another attack, another parry. Strike for above. Dodge his shots. He has revolver - he will need to reload soon.
You fought, dancing around each other, as if in the tango of death. Untill that delicious moment came! His gun running dry. You summoned all of your strength. Feint strike at his chest, only to aim for legs last second. then will all you had, body slam. Cowboy took a few steps back, before tripping on dead body. You fell down with him, sitting on top of him.
Wishing him good night, you raised your weapon to deliver finisher - to cut blade right through that pretty face of his, s̵̩̥̩̃͊̓̋t̷̩͙͙́ŕ̶͙a̵̧̢͉̯͝í̷͕͙̟̫͊̅̎͜g̵̬̈́̆̃ḩ̸͒̃̀̇ṭ̵̂̂̂͗ ̷̮̙̝̋͊̏̓t̷̜̦̣̜̺̒o̵̖͉̦̤̾ ̶̜͉͈̳̃̋b̷̧̘̮̯̫̒͝ȑ̷̛̮̑̚ͅa̸̰͓͓͙͑̓̅i̸͚̗̩͛̉͒̊̔n̴̤̞͎̋.
"Haha, you are good..." The man chuckled, raising one hand at you. Not that he could defend himself now, you had upper hand. "But not today, Darlin'"
You were mid strike down, when suddenly tip of another gun appeared right in front of your face. Where he... Was the gun made from his fingers? How-
You could be confused only for a split second, before gunshot silenced everything at once.
Notes:
A little bit of mystery surrounding reader has been lifted! Still more to come, hehe.
Any thoughts, theories?
Chapter Text
Cold. Overwhelming chill seeping deep into your body, coming from all directions.
You groaned, furrowing brows fron pounding headache. You tried to rise you hand towards it; but it hit freezing wall right above you. Where the hell you are?
You opened eyes. It did not make difference; darkness made seeing even own nose impossible. Alright, think. Hands and legs to sides - also quickly met resistance. A coffin? Space checks out. But no, it would be made out from wood. This was icy metal. Morgue? Perhaps. Good thing you were used to tight spaces.
You were not in body bag, so that's progress. Paper band was wrapped around your wrist from what you could tell. You focused on what you could remember; underground dog ring. Auction. Three glasses of wine... and then chaos. From then on, you only had bits and pieces, flashes of fear struck faces, blood splatter and glowing red eyes locked with yours. Right, the cyborg... You fought him, didn't you? Yes... You struck him good a few times. Got one heavy, piercing hit to land. Tackling him down, blade raised to end his life... Last thing you saw was amused smirk and gun muzzle aimed right at your head.
Then nothing. Well you'll give him that - he shot you. He shot you pretty good.
Like a worm in a can, desperate to escape, you wiggled to slide towards chamber's door. You prayed to higher beings your feet were in the right way.
A little hard task it was, given how little space you had. Someone was cheap... Would it hurt them to make a it not so suffocating? Oh, right. Corpses do not really protest about such things.
There. You finally could feel end of tray. Just wiggle a bit more; another unfriendly, prickling sensation welcomed your fingers. You tried to make out corners, pads searching untill they stumbled over odd shape protruding from square at the end. It took some time for your foot to grip and twist it in the right direction. When many failed attempts finally bore success, light broke in.
You placed your arms against top as much as you could. Then inch by inch, you pulled yourself towards freedom. Once legs were free to move as you please, it was a piece of cake.
With freedom at your hands, you breathed in deeply, sitting upright on wobbly tray. You were indeed in mortgage cooler... With no clothes on. Only tape with barcode and toe tag with some info. Tag has to go - but you left paper on your arm, deciding it might be useful.
It was peculiar feeling, standing in big, empty room with nothing to cover yourself with. Not the end of the world, though; you were used to it. Living in limited space, often with other people, meant having no privacy. Time made you see bodies just as what they were; simple, natural flesh. One you were trained to destroy on the ring and ignore in cell.
Quiet click echoed, when you slowly closed door of your 'temporary coffin'. Waking up in morgue was new, despite few deaths already under your belt. First time you scared poor priest that was about to bury you. Few appearances at body piles. Once you even had to dug yourself out - this was the worst. You had to summon your power to practically obliterate everything in the area to be able to crawl your way out.
Speaking of obliterating things... That cowboy was lucky. Whenever your mind bows down under weight of curse, you rarely ever use your magic. Maybe because it wants you to taste and see pain of your victims, instead of melting their brains out. Or perhaps focusing on tapping into energy stream within is too hard for mindless beast who only seeks blood.
Even so, curse taking over made you much faster, stronger. A horrifying beast with only one goal in mind. For this cyborg to match your skill? That was something... In fact, it sparked your interest. It was a long time since last time someone managed to kill you.
Whatever. Focus on current matters. You need to clothe yourself first.
Doors were much heavier than you anticipated. Light above turned on when you walked through dim corridor, eerie silence crearing even lonelier atmosphere.
Another entrance; this time, quiet tapping could be heard on the other side. You pushed wood forward, quickly slipping inside.
You looked at young woman, frozen still. She stared back at you, eyes wide, color leaving her face. Her gaze slid down your naked body, before focusing yet again at face, questions painted all over her own.
You glanced at body she was photographing, unmoving corpse at table - one that probably once held you as well. You looked around the room, only to find another terrified person sitting behind desk, hands frozen mid typing on yellowed keyboard.
"Where can I find my belongings?" You spoke after few beats, raising tagged wrist.
"Are they a ghost?" You heard intern whisper towards technician, his eyes never leaving you.
"I am not. Now give me my things." You grumbled, marching past them towards giant cabinet.
The boy scooted away on his chair, as far away as he could. You ignored him, attempting to find among labels pinned to each drawer one with similar symbols as those around your hand.
"If you allow me..." Meek voice spoke behind you, sending cold shiver of anticipation down your spine. DEFEND YOURSELF, YOURE TOO VULNERABLE. Yet, no one hit you, no one touched you. The woman slowly approached, pointing at your wrist. "May I?"
You held palm up, so she could read writings on the band. Noticing case number, she scanned cabinets, before opening one of them. She then backed away slowly, still trying to make some sense from this situation. Misunderstanding or false death records sometimes happened. People woke up on the table after being poisoned or something. But this person? She has seen the damage. Aeons, she personally had to fish out bullet from your brain. Now? You were up, all fine, with only faint pink marks where wounds were.
You, on the other hand, completely moved on from that fact, diving in bags under name "J. Doe" - though you didn't even bother to try to read it. You lifted one of them, seeing bloodied shells that were taken out of your corpse. Interesting.
Next one had your clothes, ripped and stained. You have to get new ones as soon as possible - only now you saw how much beating you took. Cuts, tears and holes littering both pieces. You took everything out to quickly put on. Your dear cloak - you had to patch it up. Being drenched in rain was something you did not take lightly.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
"Does that mean I can collect my bounty anyway?" You asked out loud, crossing arms.
Your question was left unanswered. Cold, dead eyes stared at ceiling. You kneeled besides deceased employer, waving hand to scare away flies. Got what he deserved. Pupils and iris were already clouding, red veins crawling up to them. You were dead for approximately two days, another one before you arrived here. This guy here seems to have kicked the bucket around the same time you did.
You tore gaze away from gaping hole in the middle of his forehead, shifting to pat all of his pockets. A wallet, some cash, key chain. You took took additional coins from the first item before discarding it, then stood up with the rest. Finding safe in his bedroom was easy task, earning you more money than you were supposed to get if you took Cujo off this world. How tables turned. Maybe that bandit did work in your favor, after all.
You left through window, hoping to descend to ground a few blocks away so no one will link you to his death, when someone finally smells sweet stench of rotting meat.
It was night again, your favorite time of day. Alas, for some odd reason you did not entirely understand, stars were barely visible in advanced cities. Such pity.
In brief moments like those, you wondered how much of it all was truth. Your people worshipped skies - hells, your own curse was said to be gift from stars. Not that many knew that fact about you - you were snatched by your master quite quickly after your previous handler discovered you've been blessed. Maybe blood of thousands souls, soaked deep into dirt and concrete decided you should bear their anger to get revenge, when you fell on their death site. Those who reside in vast cosmos, left you with whispers of their last will in your mind; yearning for violence, for killing everyone that had forced them into all of this. You wouldn't be surprised if that was true. Back when you were sure you were about to die, anger at your fate, along with fear also washed over you like tidal wave, mind unable to accept your fate coming to an end this way.
But people of other planets believed in other gods, than sun, moon and their children. Most believed in Aeons. Which religion was the true one? You shook your head, taking a deep breath. No need to focus on needless matter.
You slid down onto someone's balcony, which allowed you to jump to high wall. Trailing its top, you reached gate. Using your belt to hang onto upper spikes, you lowered yourself enough for safe fall. You may be immortal, but injuries still hurt like a bitch.
You dusted yourself, stretching a bit, before beginning to put belt back in your pants, when gate opened and half drunk, well dressed woman walked through. KILL THE WITNESS! At least before her gaze met yours. You both froze in awkward silence, with your hands paused still mid buckling leather. You guessed it must have looked a little inappropriate, hiding in some bushes looking like that. She didn't give you time to explain though, calling loudly for guard. KILL HER, GET RID OF WITNESS.
You closed tightly lips, stopping yourself from reacting her yell. Instead you began to run deeper into city, managing to fix your clothings. You just couldn't catch a break, could you?
You ran for a good while. Just in case. Exercise is always good excuse. This time though, main one was of different reason. You headed towards familiar bar.
Not the old looking one, as much as you wanted to take a whiff of nostalgia once again. No, this time you headed to modern one. Where was someone that happen to spread a good word about you. They worked as your eyes and ears, too. That is just a minor detail though.
A mercenary had to know how to find clients. While you thought of your master as a friend, he gave you the most important lesson back then: if you fuck with wrong people, no one is going to help you.
You exhaled slowly through nose, forcing coiled muscles to rest. Only for them to tense immediately once you shifted your focus away from them. It was all in the past; you now knew better. Knew how to find allies, how to spot enemy territory.
Music assaulted your ears the moment you walked in, your senses picking up as much information as they could. Cards being shuffled. Fingers tapping table. Darts hitting bullseye. Private whispers, loud jokes. Smell of beverage lingered in the air, accompanied by tinge of sweat. Your gaze quickly took in the sight, making subconscious note about slight rearrangement, which sparked annoyance for brief moment. There was a lot of people today, enjoying themselves. It appears atmosphere was kept light, no civilian disputes threatening to break. Ah, but those unfortunately could arise any moment, truly. YOU COULD HELP WITH THAT.
You head for bar, taking seat at the far end, near employee doors. You knew they had back door that led to small courtyard where they got their deliveries. Anything happens, you had clear escape.
"Well, well, look what the winds brought." Barman mused, coming closer.
He had young face. Beard trimmed shorter than you remember. Blade sliding against his skin... JUST A TINY MISTAKE COULD MAKE HIM BLEED SO SWEETLY. Dark, brown hair was tied in low ponytail. Tall, yet scrawny; which worked in your favor. People usually don't expect someone with such kind, hazel eyes and gentle smile, to secrecetly pick clients for you.
"Missed me?" You muttered, corners of your lips curling upwards.
"Thought you were gone. News said this bastard killed nearly everyone from-, you know." He pointed at the ceiling, winking. Mhm, the IPC and high positioned folks were target then.
"I know a trick or two." You replied, grabbing him by collar of his shirt, before yanking him closer, above counter. You ignored his whimper, expression morphing into shock. It amused you, how he was surprised no matter how many times this happened. "Give me one Sparrow, kid." You whispered the code, sliding bundle of cash into his front shirt.
You let go, silently watching as he gathered his bearings with deep breath. After quick glance at what he earned, smile creeped onto his face; so wide, you wondered how it was possible.
"Coming right up." He saluted, disappearing for a moment in backrooms. Probably to hide what he earned.
You didn't have to wait long, till you got your usual. Kova was practically flying, so motivated by salary much bigger than he anticipated.
"So, anything new?" You inquired after a while, tapping the wood in the rhythm of music.
"Not really, no. There are some shady types I'm trying to figure out, though." Low voice was barely audible in the chatter of patrons. "Can't ask them out right, you know."
"Keeping low profile, smart guy." You pointed finger of hand that held half empty glass. "You got any info on that cyborg that fucked up my plans of keeping low profile?"
"The one that barged in and exposed whole underground network?" He raised brow, wiping the counter. "Boothill. He's quite popular, I'm surprised you don't know him."
"Boothill, huh." You repeated idly, testing foregein name on your tongue. A memory of blazing red crosshair eyes drilling into you passed through your mind.
KILL, KILL, PULL THE TRIGGER-
Before you could ask for any further information, loud thump right by your side startled you. Your hand immediately reached for gun, muscles tight in adrenaline rush, jaw clenched in anticipation for fight.
Before you could do some damage though, a rag was thrown both at your raising weapon, and your face, taking you out of trance, confusion silencing intrusive whispers of violence.
Another giggle erupted close. You dragged material down, recognizing it was the one Kova used for cleaning. On your left was huge man, cheeks deep red. He bid farewell to bartender, then took his leave. You met gaze of young man, furrowing brows.
"Okay, please don't murder me." He raised his hands in appeasing gesture. "I noticed you're a little... Jumpy. But fellas here don't really appreciate someone pulling out gun on them."
"I don't know whether to be mad, or impressed." You sighed, trying to dissipate at least a little of tension in your body. Gods above, how you hated crowded places.
"The latter?" He gave you cheeky smile, one that earned amused huff from you.
"Boothill. Who is he?" You circled back to topic, curious.
"He's very wanted by IPC. Keeps hunting them down and wrecking chaos. He donated to some charities though, so maybe he isn't that bad. Fucking Robin Hood." Kova shrugged, resting hands on his hips as he frowned, deep in thought. "He got quite high bounty from what I remember. No one could kill him so far though. A war machine, they say, with deadly aim. That's all I can recall."
"Will do. Thank you." You nodded, mulling over his words for a moment. "Don't get yourself killed kid." You spoke on softer note, holstering weapon and throwing towel back at him. "He got my interest, so I don't know next time I will drop by." You added, downing the rest of whisky before departing.
"Take care!" Concerned yell was the last thing you heard before leaving the building.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
The evening breeze made hair on your skin stand up, unpleasant shiver running down your skin. Although this place was at the outskirts, city sounds sill reached your ears. Someone's car alarm going off, ticking of stop lights somewhere behind you. More of nature tore into concrete jungle here, though. Crickets had already begun their concert long time ago, owl rating their music from time to time with deep hoots.
Tiny rocks crunched under your feet as you marched forward, heading to lit up building. No rest for the wicked. When everyone heads to bed, you lurk in the shadows; and so does your target.
Carefully, you approached giant backstage of dealership. Your steps became less confident, quick, now more light, slow. You could feel heartbeat quicken, blood rushing in your ears. After what felt forever and a blink of an eye in the same time, you reached rolled up garage door.
You peaked inside, stopping right at the edge of establishment, ready to duck behind wall if needed.
The floor was littered with various tools smeared with blue blood, casting long shadows. Light above flickered slightly, bunch of insect drawn to it kept flying around. By long metal table, sat a character you recognized. For some reason, seeing him this time evoked mix of different feelings in your heart. Excitement? Fear? Anxiety? Hope? Whatever it was, you had trouble naming, unsure how to label them correctly.
Long, white and black hair was tied loosely on the back, bangs still covering half of his face. Grey eye was focused intently on his arm, partly unscrewed, mess of wires and electronic pieces unrevealed. Boothills lips were curled in gentle smile, humming quietly a song you did not recognize, foot tapping in rhythm.
You stood still for a long time, simply watching him fix his body. For some reason, the setting felt private, intimate. Disturbing cyborgs peace right now felt... Wrong.
You took a few steps back, disappearing from the area in dark of the night.
Soon. But not today.
Notes:
Welcome back to the world of living, dear reader~
Some snipers from Reader's past revealed, Boothill still lingering around. What do you think our dear MC will decide to do about him? :)
Chapter 5: Ready to bleed, Tragically yours
Chapter Text
The curse was a horrible thing. While you enjoyed a little bit of superpowers, yearning for violence gnawed at your mind like starved beast. Whispers loomed in the back of your head like stormy clouds, about to drop rain any moment. A panther, ready to strike whenever you least expected it, forcing you to yield to it's burning need for blood. Yes, it was hard to live with it. It distrupts peace, sabotages friendships. But you had to admit one thing.
Your killer instinct was excellent.
You stared at the still water rising to your knees, makeshift spear held tightly above surface. You listened - whenever they came withing range, that tingle of excitement just under your skin would wake up. If you were lined for a perfect shot, the urges practically guided your hands mercilessly towards the victim.
Three weeks. It's been three weeks since you last seen so called Boothill. You were supposed to catch him the next day. But due to unpredicted circumstances you had... Lost him. Definitely not because you might or might not taken a little nap, lulled to sleep by raspy voice humming melodies of different land...
For someone so tall and unique, he sure knew how to slip away, then loose anyone tailing him. You managed to follow him here, another planet within the system. Alas, you failed to discover where his feet-
NOW, STRIKE, SLICE, KILL!
...carried him. You took few steps back towards shore, throwing another bleeding so DELICIOUSLY fish you just speared. Woven from young branches basket already had enough for dinner.
It was pleasant, sunny day, perfect for a little of hunting. You were running low on your supplies - lunch from few days ago, which your stomach heavily disagreed with, reminded you why you would stick to only eating what you kill, what looks familiar. Therefore, slowly giving hope for catching up to handsome criminal, you headed deeper into the wilderness. Might as well use this time as vacation.
Dragonflies hoovered above surface, observing everything with their complex eyes. Algae tickled your feet, brushing against them like underwater fluffy rug. Sometimes you could feel a shell get stuck between your fingers when sand slipped through. Muddy smell was not the most pleasant, but that was one of nature's signature perfumes unfortunately. Uncomfortable slime clinged to your palms, making them feel sticky no matter how much you washed them.
Far down the river there was gray crane. Striking red marking on his head looked like he was wearing a hat. While at first, he was very weary of your presence in his territory, he eased with time and began to fish as well.
While there was some sort of commotion miles away, judging by faint gunshots, you tried your best to focus on task at hand. Ironically, your bloodthirsty side proved to help a lot at that, immersing you fully in.
Nonetheless, when you heard bangs much closer, you lifted your head up, trying to see through dense foliage. Maybe you should check out what is happening. Perhaps you could score some coin from corpses before someone cleans the mess.
You walked back to shore, kneeling by basket with fish. First, your knife- deliciously WENT IN, LIKE THROUGH BUTTER! ...Sliced their heads off. Then one strike over belly to gut them out. One swift pull, INTESTINES FALLING TO GROUND SOUND LIKE A DREAM.
You shook your head, trying to shoot away the whispers. Calm down. Think of pretty things. Wash your hands. Pick up basked by the twigs - you don't need those nasty whispers right now. How you wished you could just turn the killer instinct on and off. Unfortunately there was no switch in your brain.
You carried fish to your little camp, where you retrieved your belongings. Few thick logs were added to fireplace, so it would burn for longer. Newly sourced food was hanged over it, to slowly dry out. Meanwhile, you got some time to check out what was going on with the shootout. Fire was secured with sand and rocks so nothing should set aflame.
With each step through bushes and fallen logs, you wished this trip will be worth probably getting lots of ticks you will have to rip out. At least hands covered in mud were somehow protected from mosquitos.
Noise grew in volume, commands yelled left and right. Seems like that operation was bigger than you originally assumed. You sneaked closer, slower; you barely avoided stray bullet that lodged in tree right besides you. Curiosity (or greed) won though, and you proceeded further.
When you finally got to small clearing, you were able to make out what was happening. And to your surprise, it was exactly the person that you've been looking for that was involved.
Cyborg was hiding before giant log, holding random soldier's shield on top of it. Any slight pause from enemy, he would pop out and shoot at them as well.
"Well, well, well... Looks like someone needs help." You muttered to yourself, seeing few men in black armor try to encircle your target.
Let the fun begin.
Shiver of excitement went down your spine. You stalked the small group like tiger about to pounce on his prey. Gaze focused, terryfingly dead set on next kill as you approached as quietly as you could. Then you just waited, covered by leaves of plants, crouched down - cat playing with it's victim. Blade held behind began to turn red, as you heated it with your palms. They came within range soon, ready to shoot at vulnerable cowboy. But not on your watch.
Now, NOW, TEAR THEM TO SHREDS
You darted out of your hideout. Weapon sinking in with sizzle. A SMELL OF BURNING FLESH... YOU CAN SALIVATE AT THE MERE THOUGHT OF SUCH TASTY MEAL. You ripped it out. At the same time pointing semi at the second guard. ISN'T IT LAZY APPROACH? After both met their fate, you turned to last man standing. This one only had spear, aready swinging at you with full force. You instinctively reached up, dropping your blade. You grabbed the end, feeling metal melt under your touch. It did slice your flesh first, unfortunately. You swallowed scream of agony as liquid swirled inside open wound, mending flesh trying to grow over it. Immediately after that, a bullet sent to the head did it's job. YOU'RE GETTING OLD, WHERES FUN IN QUICK END? Yellow face cover fell down, while body sank to it's knees, before kissing the ground.
You left the scene, hiding the foliage as much as you could. Head north. You can attack main forces from behind. They will scatter. They can't protect both sides at the same time. YES, YES, RIP THEIR SPINES OUT!
You glanced quickly towards Boothill on the field, stoping briefly to asses the situation. Then you had to take double take; were those more soldiers behind him, on the opposite side to you?
You looked at the front again. Shortest route was through the field which left you open for danger. Alas, the man was currently busy it seems; his left arm stopped working, shield abandoned on the ground. Abdomen stained with blue liquid. Purple shades under eyes. Someone must had been through hell, way before this shootout here; You saw how he picked out enemies with ease before, each man killed with one bullet straight to the brain. If he was falling behind so much, he must have been fighting for a while.
You clenched jaw in contemplation. Running out can make you receive some damage. Not even mentioning your palm still burning, blood mixed with steel. You had to keep it hot, else it would harden inside. Your best bet was that it will wash out with blood. But it also meant agonizing pain that kept distracting you.
With one annoyed sigh, you decided. You dashed forward, heading to the fallen log. A few bullets pierced the air right beside you, yet you managed to elude those somehow.
"Don't mind me!" You yelled, placing healthy hand on top of tree to jump over it.
HE IS WOUNDED, FINISH HIM, HE KILLED YOU, TAKE REVENGE!
Boothill glanced at you, anger at the situation mixed with sudden surprise. You in turn, grimaced; just as you were almost hidden, you felt searing pain shoot through your shoulder. THOSE BASTARDS NEED TO PAY, SKIN THEM ALIVE FOR THIS! Start of slow exhale - to keep yourself calm through the shock to your system - marked the moment you bounced off the ground on the other side, heading towards forest behind cowboy.
Upon being discovered, two guards immediately responded with fire. The other two gripped their spears protectively. You will have to choose - either use right wounded palm to block, or left one with fucked up shoulder.
You went with the latter, since closing fist hurt like hell; and it was still bleeding. While quickly changing direction helped to avoid few hits, one pierced your ear. Is it universe giving you signs it's time for an earring?
To your surprise, fire has been opened at your targets, forcing them to take cover. Boothill covered you long enough for you to reach woods, before switching to fighting front again. As much as he was shocked at your appearance, he had no time to process what was happening.
You shoot few rounds at the gunners. One stumbled backwards, grabbing his chest as you hit him. NOW YOU GOT PERFECT OPPORTUNITY TO RIP OUT HIS HEART. The other hid away just in time. You bursted in the bushes, invading their space. PULL THE TRIGGER, BANG, BANG!
You hit nearest man in the temple with hilt of pistol before firing at another one. OH HOW BEAUTIFULLY IT SPLASHED AT BIRCH BEHIND HIM! TRULY WORK OF ART-
You grabbed stumbling man, spinning around him. Ignoring burning pain proven to take a lot more strength than you anticipated. One gunner and melee soldiers left halted as you used their comrade as living shield. With one hand holding knife up stranger's throat, you had only one left to reload your weapon. OR YOUR HAND COULD JUST SLIP A LITTLE... You slid new magazine out of pockets at your belt. With it's bottom placed on top of your knee, you kicked it up straight into the chamber. You ducked behind back of the soldier to quickly pull upper part of pistol with your teeth, finishing the reload. NOW MAKE A SWISS CHEESE OUT OF THEM!
It didn't take long to shoot them out like ducks, ending with slicing neck of your living shield. You licked the knife; his blood tasted like metal, like joy, the sweetest dream, you need more and MORE AND MORE!
Forcing yourself out of trance your curse tried to pull you into, you wiped the rest of crimson on your shirt. Time to head back to field. Boothill had left his cover and was now running between the guards, picking off one by one whoever was still standing. Without hesitation you allowed the urge to lead you towards him. Your mind kept slipping in and out of killer hyperfocus. You could already feel upcoming headache from constant intrusive thoughts screaming in your mind - or maybe those were your own? Lines between reality and images your brain conjured was blurred. With no time to think in the chaos of fight, you were vulnerable to crawling sensation just under your skin, guiding your hands to create as much violence as you could, disgusting pleasure washing over you with each intestine that fell to the ground, each bone broken, rib you tore out, skulls shattered.
You stood still, breathing heavily, blood of strangers dancing on your tongue. Dark spots flew around in your sight. Your own nose bled as well, perhaps from the strain of your powers being used so much. From giving in so heavily. You had no idea how you were able to get enough grip on the situation to not lean in fully.
No more rounds were shot. All you could hear was blood rush in your ears. Gasps, desperate for air, both yours and your killer. Hum of his machinery that quietened down a bit when things got settled. One or two birds called in alarm, unsure if they were able to go to their nests yet.
A click of revolver being loaded in finally fully snapped you out of post-episode dissociation. You slowly turned your head towards someone you could get a lot of money for. First your gaze locked on tip of his weapon, before sliding up to bright red crosshair eye. STRIKE BEFORE HE SHOOTS, END HIM!
"I killed you." This time, his voice was raspy, breathless, tainted with disbelief, confusion and watered down anger. "How the fudge are you still alive? And why would ya forkin' help me?"
You tilted your head to side, mulling over his peculiar vocabulary. "It looked like you could use a helping hand. Your defence had some flaws I fixed up for you." You explained slowly, ignoring remark about your death.
"And ya did that out of goodness of yer heart, I take it?" Sarcastic remark was filled with such venom, you tensed up - as if your muscles weren't already like a pulled bowstring.
"If I wanted to take revenge, I would do so already."
"Then why are you here? And HOW." His voice dropped, his own jaw set.
"You are skilled outlaw. You target big organization. Therefore, you could use some help. I propose we join forces." You stood a little taller, trying to sound convincing. You barely held back faint whimper, bullet lodged in shoulder blade protesting painfully at your movement.
He stared at you for a moment with puzzled expression, before barking out a laugh. "Join forces? Ain't happening. I work solo." He shook his head. "And certainly not with whatever the fork you are." He added after brief pause, looking at mutilated bodies around.
"Look. I got camp like an hour of walk from here. We could patch ourselves up and talk this through. I got food prepped." You tried again, not wanting to sound desperate.
This time, it seemed like he actually considered the idea. He glanced at his left arm that was good for nothing - he needed to fix it asap. Not mentioning blue fluid still leaking from few holes in softer metals of his body. Such is the price for mobility.
"Fine. I'll stop by for a while. But the second I fix myself up, I dip." He growled out the response with disgust, or so you thought.
As much as Boothill hated the idea of following who knows where someone who fought like feral animal, he knew that right now his priority was to get into stable shape. Besides, you had a point - if you wanted revenge, you would already seize the opportunity instead of rescuing him.
You two walked in silence. Long enough for you to feel uneasy, unable to relax under dangerous gaze boring into your back. You cleared your throat awkwardly, tilting head to talk over your shoulder:
"You indeed have perfect mastery over your gun." You praised, a bit unsure.
Cowboy did not reply. It only made your skin crawl again; yet, this time not from morbid excitement, but eerie aura he emanated. Perhaps he was still digesting the whole ordeal. Or perhaps he was planning how to kill you for good. YOU SHOULD GET RID OF HIM WHILE HE'S WEAK.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
Boothill watched as you sank knife into your shoulder blade, twisting and turning to get it into right position before you could fish out bullet from it. Your palm was now bandaged - so was his head, bleeding from his scalp already stopped.
He had to admit, he was just as impressed as horrified. He had walking corpse in front of him, that melted through armors of IPC to literally tear them open, dangerous spark burning in eyes like stars. Despite feral mindset, he did actually notice few reoccurring strategies you used to avoid hits as well as counterattack.
He couldn't figure out what was your motive, though. He killed you. The fact that you should be dead aside, you should be angry, not slide in to help him out from bounty that turned out to be a trap. Yet here you were, offering him food, shelter, medical supplies.
You were either a spy or straight up insane.
He was leaning towards the latter. A thought still gnawed on his mind: if you came back to life, could his family...
"Is something wrong?" Your question pulled him out of his thoughts.
"Why would you help me?" He responded, furrowing brows.
"Why not?" You shrugged, watching his temporary fix for leaking, damaged parts.
"Because." Boothill leaned forward, reaching arm towards you. You braced yourself, tense as a rock, ready for everything. But he only pressed cold finger to your forehead. "I shoot ya. Right there."
You were unsure whether low purr of his sounded more threatening or exciting for some odd reason.
"Which only gives away how nimble on your feet you are. How smart and skilled warrior you are." Your voice came out much quieter than you expected, strained with emotion you couldn identify.
"Mhm." Cowboy leaned back. You released breath you didn't know you held, releasing at least part of tension with it.
Silence enveloped both of you again. Only fire cracked joyfully from time to time, painting fish nestled above it a delicious, brown color. You played with edge of your attire. Should you say something?
After few agonizing minutes, you finally settled for: "They are ready. Do you want one?" You lifted stick with one trout at the other end.
"Hopefully they ain't poisoned." The man huffed with half smile.
"No, they are not." You deadpanned, handing it to him. BUT YOU STILL HAVE A SECOND OR TWO TO TAMPER WITH THEM, QUICK- "I can eat a bit of both if you're not convinced."
Boothill raised a brow, but took food nonetheless. "No need, I was just messin'. I doubt you would poison own food supply."
"...right." You cleared your throat, taking the other fish.
"I got no forkin' idea why you want to join an outlaw like me." He began, sniffing perfectly cooked meal. "But I got bad news for ya. I work alone."
"And look how that turned out for you." You spat out without thinking. When his gaze shifted to you at the remark, you curled into yourself a little, unable to read his face. HE WILL TEAR YOU A NEW ONE FOR THAT, SO STRIKE FIRST!
"I admit, they got me good today." He trailed off, glancing at the fireplace. Seems like fortunately, no backlash awaited you. "Sons of a nice lady... There was more of 'em than I would expect."
You watched him closely, but your mind focused more on his voice than sentences. The censorship was... Oddly peculiar. But you liked the way he spoke; words dragged out in accent you did not recognize. Despite knowing he was deadly, there was something that began to draw you to him more and more the longer you watched from afar or talked to him.
"Therefore, you should accept me. I am disposable. I do not mind doing dirty work. I am of help." You offered again, sinking teeth into meat. Perhaps to have something to do. Or perhaps to shut yourself up before saying a bit too much.
"Listen, I don't know what yer issue is, I told you already. I work alone. Travelling with me is being at constant risk." He shook head, this time standing his ground firmly.
"I don't mind dying." Your gaze dropped down in submission.
There it was again. That awkward atmosphere. After few moments you dared to look up. Boothill only stared at you with a frown. You held his gaze. Breath shallow, palms sweating. Yet, you held it.
"Who are you, exactly?" Each word lacked with suspicion. Perhaps a bit of concern...?
You revealed your name, before adding after a beat: "I don't fear violence. On contrary... You proved you can kill me if things are rough. It makes you one of few people who can wield a weapon like me."
While avoiding full truth about your curse, you lifted a little corner of rug it was hidden under. You waited patiently for him to digest your words. Alas, it seems like you achieved opposite of what you wanted.
"I should take my leave now." The man stood up after a few minutes of contemplating, tossing away empty spine of a trout. "Thank you for your hospitality."
It sounded weirdly official. You licked your lips, glancing at your belongings. As cowboy began to walk away, you quickly stuffed remaining fish into a bag, then your backpack. Patting yourself to make sure you were packed, you trotted to catch up to cowboy. Staying a few steps behind.
Boothill sighed, stopping to turn your way. "What are you doing?"
"Walking." You answered immediately.
"That I can see." Ranger pinched bridge of his nose. "I told ya I ain't seein' partnership. Don't follow me."
"I, well." You cleared your throat, scratching your neck as you tried to come up with excuse. "I'm just going for a walk then. Happens to be same direction."
A long exhale. You tensed, wondering if you crossed the line this time. Will he lash out? YOU COULD. HE IS EASY TARGET RIGHT NOW.
"Whatever. I'm too tired for this right now." Cyborg muttered, shaking his head before moving forward again.
This will be a long day.
Notes:
This story has been sponsored by sleep deprivation!
Any spelling mistakes, as well as pronoun changes due to autocorrect are gratis.(it's hell-bent on changing 'yer' to 'her', so if ya see random gender drop be sure it was not conscious, I try to write in a way that anyone of any race, size and gender can insert themselves. I'm fighting for my life for y'all bald people, trying not to mention something about hair lmao)
Jokes aside, I try to proof read everything before posting but pardon me if I miss something. I mostly write those at night/early morning when I can't sleep lmao.
Boothill certainly isn't thrilled about new parasite that clung to him like Argenti in Penacony lol. But those who treat him... Well, reader deserves the bare minim for that at the very least. Hopefully the decision won't bite him in the ass, given their violent tendencies...
Some titles like this one are references from songs (cause brain is not always braining to come up with something creative). If y'all are curious or want to listen to them, I will be leaving their titles/authors in notes below.
As always, comments are welcome so if you want to share your thoughts I will be glad to hear them out :)
Chapter Text
"Oh no, you again."
STRANGER, KILL-
Husky voice pulled you out of shallow sleep. Eyes shot open, instinct carried your hands to weapons. Upon seeing familiar face wearing a frown, you dropped them down to sides.
"Good morning." You replied flatly, subtly stretching stiff joints. Sleeping standing up was definitely not your favorite position.
Alas, Boothill rented a room in a tavern situated at some aeons forgotten village. You wasted no money for that luxury; you got enough of loneliness back when you still rented a house. Besides, you couldn't let him slip away again.
"Would be, if not for yer face loomin' in the shadows." The man muttered, brushing past you towards dining hall.
"What is my next order?" You were quick to follow him.
"To go to hell."
"I fear that's not possible, sir."
Cyborg sighed, turning his torso to glance at you, unimpressed. He opened his mouth to respond, but decided against whatever he was about to say.
"Here." He spoke after few beats, throwing you his room keys towards you. "Go take a bath. Ya smell like you need it... Desperately."
You stood for a moment, watching him head out. Then your gaze slid down at your own attire, stained with mud, grass and blood. Maybe quick shower wasn't a bad idea.
Walking into said room then bathroom, you took a deep breath. Your body ached, both from lack of proper rest and echos of wounds already healed. You slowly ran fingers over shoulder that's been shot. Jagged bumpy scar filled gaping hole you fished out bullet from just yesterday.
Stepping under hot stream felt like torture and pure pleasure at the same time. It stung, sudden temperature change shocking your system for a moment. Soon you welcomed it's embrace, muscles slowly relaxing. As much as they could, that is.
You dug fingers into their knots, rolling your head. You had to grip shelf in the corner, leaning on it. Otherwise you feared you would sink to your knees, all strength leaving your body the second you allowed yourself a moment of vulnerability. Water soothed your pain, both of body and soul, tempting you to just curl up then fall asleep. You couldn't though, as sweet as that idea was. You had to keep going.
You began to clean yourself with a soapy sponge. Each time it slid over rised slashes, dips, lumps; a snippet of past life flashed through your mind, from deathly fights to calmly watching clouds slowly pass by. For better or worse, you couldn't remember source of them all; especially at times where you lost all control, taking back seat in your mind while curse forced you to mindlessly kill.
Long line over your stomach, shorter one at the base of your neck. Assassination from a gang member after session of torture. Uneven mark at your chest? First fights on the ring, you barely survived. It was hell to breathe with ribs shattered like that. To this day pink spot remained on your arm after open fracture.
Not to forget annoying circle at the base of your nose, just below brows. Boothills bullet. Could be worse, though, maybe you can pass it as acne scar. Exit wound at the back of your head surely was much worse, but prolly easier to hide.
You took your sweet time, losing sense of it. Too lost in thought, in temporary peace from cursed whispers. Peace, security, warmth; it lulled them to sleep, and you were enjoying every second of it. Who knows when you will have another opportunity.
While you were here, you also decided to wash your clothes. Desperate times call for desperate measures; getting them ready with hair dryer took a bit. Trouble paid off in the end; you no longer looked nor smelled like homeless person you were.
Clean boots echoed off corridor with each step taken. While you did feel better after that relaxation session, the second you walked out of the room, all tension crawled back into your muscles. You blinked heavily, attempting to shoo away sleepiness. Yet it lingered, just like loneliness.
"Had you seen where cyborg man that rented this room went?" You asked the secretary, sliding key towards her.
"Oh, he left a while ago. Notified me you will hand over keys for him. I hope you both had great stay." The woman smiled at you, although you could sense a hint of unease behind it. Without looking like poor, you had intimidation back as your perk it seems.
"Did he say where should I meet him?"
"No. He just bid farewell and left."
You closed your eyes. Deep inhale. Slow exhale. Relax your jaw before you break your own teeth.
Of course he dipped without a word.
Of, fucking, course.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
You bent down, looking at knee tall neetle. Untrained eye prolly wouldn't see anything different from other flora all around here. Not you, though; you learned how to track both game, as well as bounties, a long time ago. You brushed two fingers over dark blue liquid pooled at one of bigger leaves. Bringing it up to nose, you caught a whiff of oily smell, a hint of chemicals. While Boothill managed to mostly stop bleeding yesterday, it seems his DIY patch up wasn't meant to last this long. If he was wanted man, it would make sense why he used roundabout path to bigger city. Using main road was presenting yourself on a silver plate for IPC. Stumbling upon his actual track earlier today was just pure luck.
You slowly stood up, noting which direction stomped foliage led you forward. Blue blood was occasionally smeared on bark where he clearly gripped it for stability when terrain became steep. The amount of it wasn't big enough for you to worry about him bleeding out. Although, the mere fact he was still - or started again - leaking wasn't good sign.
Birds chirped all over the place, keeping your thoughts at bay. Somewhere far away a lone loon called; perhaps it was looking for its friend, like you. You kept swatting away annoying mosquitos trying to bite you all the time. You might finally look like civilized human, but it came with the price; no mud cover protected you from itchy bites.
Some time later you gathered few leaves of yellow flowers you recognized, popping them into your mouth. Chewing it well enough gave you paste that once smeared on skin, should keep at least some flying hellspawns away if you were lucky.
The sun bled over the sky, slowly descending behind horizon. Blood red hugged it's sleepy form, before getting watered down with distant blue into pale pink reflected on fluffy clouds. Darkness significantly worsened ability to find tracks, and you began to consider setting a small camp for the night.
Not long after that, you actually began to search for good spot. Preferably somewhere you could keep your back protected. Roof over head was nice addition too. You were about to settle under fallen tree, when you noticed clearing not that much further away. Conifers thinned out for what appeared to be a cliff, giving perfect visibility over land below. You picked up bags and headed that way.
You stopped at the edge of forest, though, upon seeing slouched silhouette sitting at the edge, watching sunset. A long beat of silence passed, before you approached it, pausing two meters behind.
"You left me." AND YOU SHOULD MAKE HIM PAY FOR THAT. TCH, NO- HE SHOULD PUNISH YOU.
Boothill tilted his head towards you, hat shielding his face from your gaze. "I never agreed to yer generous offer." A tinge of irritation rang in his voice.
"Well, you didn't reject it either." You replied meekly after a moment.
"I did."
"Don't remember."
The man finally turned towards you more fully, face twisted in angry grimace. "Just cause ya got memory issues doesn't mean I didn't. Or perhaps you need some... Reminding?"
While there was clearly threat in words spat out like venom in your direction, you simply looked down. His left arm still barely worked, twitching from time to time, laid loosely on his lap. Right one pressed on the wound on his abdomen, where artificial blood slowly seeped out.
"You don't look like you're in shape to fight anyone right now." After brief moment of choosing your words (for once), gathering bravery for such disrespect, you pointed it out with the gentlest tone you could muster. It felt so utterly fake though; you were not made for gentle things.
Boothill clearly wanted to argue, but even he knew that the last fight really took a toll on his body. In the end he just sighed deeply.
"I can help." You continued after few beats, unsure what to do.
"Why?" He snapped, agitated again. "Whaddya want so badly from me?"
"...I just want to be useful." You admitted omitting true reason, shifting focus to first stars appearing above. Quick, short white speck shooting over dark background made breath catch in your throat.
Cyborg watched odd emotions flash in your eyes, even if as usual your face remained still like statutue. He found it weird how expressionless you were, aside from subtle changes. But then again, your whole self was eerie.
"Don'tcha have anyone else to pester?" He stood up with pained grunt. "Why me?"
"Because I am fucked up and you are resilient." You deadpanned, staring straight into his tired eyes now that he faced you properly.
Your reasoning clearly took him off guard, brows furring. "The fudge is that supposed to mean?"
You shrugged, crossing arms, palms pressed firmly against your skin. "I can weld whatever keeps bleeding. Though, it probably will give your mechanic more work when you finally reach him."
Cowboy knew you were hiding something. You avoided answering, changed topic quickly, averted gaze briefly. Whatever it was, he will pull your tongue sooner or later. For now...
"Fine. 'Suppose I ain't got much choice anyway. I'm guessing yer one of 'em spicy ones?" He smirked, tilting his head curiously.
"Spicy ones?" You blinked in confusion.
"Ya know, fire wielding ones."
"You can say that... Where I'm from, it's been said to be gift from stars." You frowned, creating small floating light to aid your vision. Shame that best you could muster is that tiny speck, only able to shine as far as a metre or two max.
"That's something new." The man reached to shyly tap it with healthy hand, curiosity winning. He quickly pulled finger away when freezing cold of it bit at it, artificial nerves setting off alarms to his brain.
"Tell me what I need to fix." You spoke, gaining back his attention. "I don't know much about technology like that."
"Right." Cowboy cleared his throat, pulling away ragged tape you borrowed him before. "This fudgin' part got shot. Can still sometimes hear the bullet rattlin' inside. You sure ya can close it without blowing us up?"
"No." You shrugged, feeling familiar warmth pool under your skin. "My apologies if I do more damage."
"Wait, maybe -" Boothill wasn't allowed entertaining his second thoughts; not with your fingers already pressed to his injured body.
A hiss escaped his mouth, shark teeth clenched tightly. Blue blood sizzled dangerously at the site, steam coming up. After few, painful moments, you stepped back, watching your work. A tiny bit of still hot metal was glued to his belly, awkwardly covering hole. A true testament to your amateur skills. Nonetheless, it did achieve what you were aiming for.
"I doesn't look that bad." You crossed your arms, admiring it for a moment, before tilting your head to meet Boothills gaze.
Very much unimpressed one.
"So long it get the job done..." He muttered, staring at it with disappointment. "Thanks."
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
Something wet tapped your nose. You frowned, curling into yourself. It didn't help, for soon another drop hit your temple. This time, you opened your eyes with dreaded 'blood?' thought ringing alarm bells in your head.
It wasn't. Boothill still laid close by, hat covering his face. Above dark, heavy clouds moved towards you, lighting up from time to time. While thunder was relatively quiet, you could feel static crawling over your skin, vibrations travelling though ground. You stood up, stretching stiff bones with crack. Rain was beginning to pick up; you both should hurry up. Though, chances for arriving to town before downfall were slim.
You looked around, attempting to find a way down cliff, when your gaze stumbled upon pair of eyes at the forest edge. Animals rarely attacked unprovoked. You still kept your palm on gun, just in case. Black fur was already soaked. Disheveled. Stained with dirt there and there. Wolf? No, too small. Coyote perhaps? It stalked you with head low, before trotting alongside animal path, disappearing in mist hoovering above ground.
You walked closer to edge, trying to spot it again. Where wildlife travels, so could you relatively safely pass through. A minute or two passed, before you spotted shadow slipping between bushes. You tracked how he moved over the gravel, finding path of least resistance. Once he was at the base of hill, it looked up; oddly enough, straight at you. Unease washed over you, hair on your neck standing up. As if it's stare was a warning.
Whatever. It was just a coyote.
"Sir." You called, walking up to sleeping cyborg. "We should head out. Wake up."
After a beat of no reaction, you bent over to snatch hat covering his face. Heavens must have decided to aid you (or just decided to play trick on cowboy) sending another big raindrop right into his left eye. He flinched, blinking away sleep.
"Huh- What?" He spat out confused, seeing you hoovering suspiciously above.
"Storm is coming. We should move." You replied nonchalantly, handing him back headwear.
"Right, right, 'course." Boothil inhaled deeply, rubbing palm over his face.
Unlike you, he seemed very much... Not awake yet, even when you were leading him to the trail. Eyelid struggled to stay up, gaze became unfocused. He was slouched more than yesterday. IT WOULD BE SO EASY TO TAKE HIM OUT RIGHT NOW. After a while you decided to sate your curiosity, one that gnawed at you any time you looked at him.
"Do you have feeling in your body?" You asked, holding up branch so that it wouldn't swat him when you pass. "Like pain?"
"Do I look that miserable?" He teased with tired smile.
"...yes." You answered slowly, unsure whether you were supposed to lie or not.
"Ouch." A rapsy laugh. You were beginning to really like the sound of it. "Unfortunately, yeah. This all is hooked up to ma' brain. Allows me to move however I want to. And not accidentally crush hand of whoever I greet for example. Would be hard not to if I had no feelin' at all."
"Fair enough." You mused, pulling from small satchel wrapped in rag cooked fish. Since you had no time to dry it, you cooked it in spare moment at hotel Boothill was staying at. "Perhaps food will make you feel better. When was the last time you ate?"
"Uhh, when ya fed me last time." He took your offering, eyes becoming a bit more lively.
"Then no wonder you feel like shit." You scolded, tongue working faster than brain. YOU IDIOT, PATHETIC PEASANT HAVE NO RIGHT TO SPEAK LIKE THAT. Right after you straightened up stiffly and cleared throat, you added quickly: "Pardon, sir."
Your last master, who didn't expect strict respectful speeches certainly did damage to your etiquette. Those two years of being on your own didn't help either.
"No offence taken." Cowboy chuckled, reaching out to pat your head. "Don't call me sir, Boothill will do. Besides, yer probably right."
You tilted your head, remaining quiet. Silence settled between the two of you, but for once it didn't feel bad. Rain began to drop more often now, sending shivers down your spine. Not really from cold, but the disgust. You sincerely hoped you could reach city on the horizon before storm catches up, even if it meant carrying cowboy on your damn back.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
"Howdy!"
Sudden yell startled old man, keys falling out of his hand when he flinched. He pushed glasses up his nose, struggling to see with water already smudged on them. Not to mention by now, rain was so heavy it was hard to see more than few meters ahead.
"Yes, what can I help you with, youngster?"
"Folks 'round say yer mechanic. I happen to be in dire need of repairment, you see." Boothill approached, picked up keychain and handed it back to him.
"Oh, unfortunately I was just closing, so maybe you can come back tomo-"
"If you don't open those fucking doors right now, I will break in myself." You growled, knuckles pale from gripping your cloak as tightly as possible.
Safe to say, your death glare and threats paired with cowboys charm worked wonders. Soon you were sitting up next to heater, while your companion was getting his guts sorted out. You ate some more of your rations, before making makeshift bed on the floor from your own cloak. Cyborg talked quietly with the old stranger. You couldn't make out much of it because of the sound of tools filling the entire workshop. Curled up on the ground like dog, you began to slowly drift to sleep. Better days will come. You had a new master now - it means it had to be better, no? Boothill didn't seem too strict, he didn't punish you for your tongue slips after all. Maybe you can treat him like your friend as well.
Raspy purr of his tired voice lulled you to sleep with promise of new dreams and new hope. As well as warmth, that first time in a long time, appeared within your chest. Maybe it was just cooked fish or odd parasite of this world. But it felt good not to feel cold, gaping hole deep inside.
Notes:
My brain is taking me for sleep rollercoaster. Fist I've slept 15 hours straight and woke up still tired, only to not be able to fall asleep at all the very next day.
So of course I spent it writing the fic lmao.
To all of, like 18 people that like this, I'm not sure if I'll be able to post new chapter next monday since I will be busy for a while. I'll update as soon as I write the new one though, whenever that will be.
Chapter Text
BANG!
You flinched awake. Ringing from loud noise awfully persistent in your ears. No, no, this was supposed to be safe space! You snatched gun, loyally resting by your side, sitting up. Before you could aim at anything, armed man kicked it out of our grip. KILL THE FUCKER!
With dominant hand you grasped his ankle. RIP HIS LEG OFF- Quick yank made him loose balance. Enough for you to stand up, pushing him to the ground. CHOKE THE BASTARD. You mind didn't register when exactly you unconsciously reached for dagger behind belt (unfortunately, sleeping with sword attached to hip would be a little too uncomfortable). Nudging it beneath edge of helmet, it slid deep into enemy's throat. SUCH A SATISFYING GURGLE, PRAY HE CHOKES ON HIS OWN LIQUIDS FOR ETERNITY.
Stray bullet sliced side of your arm, forcing you to take cover. Looking through rubble of machinery scattered everywhere, you caught glimpse of Boothill practically dancing between waves of soldiers. At least mechanic patched him up enough for him to hold his own.
Yet another stranger ran out at you, gun immediately aimed as he turned corner. Not thinking much, you pushed it away by suppressor, feeling hot metal on your skin. Wooden table creaked, taking shot that was supposed to carry your death sentence. STRIKE! Straight through face cover, blade sank deep into his eye.
Leaving lobotomized guy behind, you jumped back for own weapons. Only for something hard colliding with your temple. You stumbled a few steps to side, blurry world spinning. Someone grabbed you by collar, pinning you to tall cabinet.
"Do not resist, otherwise you will be additionally charged as aiding wanted criminal." Tone of authority. Who the fuck she thinks she is? She is not your master. She is a mere dog, just like you, JUST SERVING ANOTHER.
"Now you just pissed me off." You spat out blood right at yellow plastic covering her eyes. You must have accidentally bite your tongue during brawl.
The second she instinctively backed up to wipe it, you grabbed her own uniform. Then spun around. With gained momentum, you threw her at tinted, smudged windows that no one bothered to clean. Your ears once more got assaulted by noise, glass shattering at impact. You forced body down onto jagged edge before she could pull herself up. Grip tight and pull - PULL OVER ENTIRE LENGTH OF FRAME!
The curse sang under your skin, seeing blood trickling down wall, corpse falling down limply. More, MORE!
You picked up knife that fell out of your hand previously, licking crimson off it before you caught yourself doing it. DELICIOUS. Definitely not. You grimaced at shiver going through your body. Get a fucking grip. You need to focus. On aiding Boothill, then escaping, not losing yourself in bloodshed.
You froze, staring at some poor bastard in front of you. All your instincts screamed to throw yourself at him, tear him to shreds. Do it, do it, DO IT. Tremble of his hands as well as quick glances behind told you that he was reconsidering his career, though. TOO LATE, MAKE HIM REGRET IT IN LAST SECONDS OF HIS LIFE. MAKE HIM SUFFER FOR EVERYTHING THEY DID!
"Surrender or perish. Choice is yours." You threatened, holding eye contact. Or at least looking where his eyes should be.
He didn't think twice, dropping spear to the ground. "Please, I have family."
A punch to stomach made him bend in half. From then it was easy to force him onto knees. Just like your owners taught you to. "Stay."
You jumped over another fallen closet. Your gaze swept over the workshop. Ten bodies. Boothill was doing good on his side, picking them one by one with cheeky grin. Revenge, sweet revenge.
You flinched when fire was opened at you. You missed small woman hiding nearby. A careless mistake. ONE SHE WILL PAY WITH BLOOD FOR! Pulling trigger repeatedly, you forced her to back off. An opening.
You dashed in. Various wrenches as well as screwdrivers fell the the ground when you slided over table to the other side, catching them off guard. They expected you to run through front, not side. PATHETIC INSECTS... You emptied magazine at her, turning attention to her partner. You dodged slash of his weapon, holstering your own. Heat pooled at you hands, allowing you to throw few attacks that disarmed him. Armor out of the way, you stabbed him with a dagger, leaving long gash in his belly. Lady behind you somehow pulled herself together despite two holes in her abdomen. Too focused on the man in front of you, you didn't notice it. Untill a blade sank into your back.
Pained huff escaped you, world dimming for brief second. You grabbed intestines falling from horrified soldiers belly, then spun around. The woman froze in shock. You used the horror value to turn shackles back to your advantage. Kick to her legs, side step, navigate around - you wrapped her own comrades guts around her neck, pulling till suffocation.
What a mess. Your clothes were now stained with fluids, red smeared, splashed all over. You didn't have much time to think about your horrific deeds, before another gunner aimed at you, this time from far away. Awful cut on the side of your chest - could be worse. You ducked behind furniture, trying to figure out where enemy was exactly.
"This one's on me!" Cowboy's yell made you still completely, focusing on his words. "Get the mechanic safe!"
"Yes, sir!" You replied automatically, immediately prioritizing his order above everything else.
You scanned the workshop once more, bolting through it to find old man as soon as possible. You found him quicker than you anticipated. Grandpa was already on edge of heartattack by the time you kneeled beside him.
"Come." You spared no pleasantries, grabbing his arm to yank him out from rubbish he hid under.
Ignorant to his protests as well as pleads, you pushed him forward, grip tight on his shoulder. Dave (or whatever his name was), was forced into storage room. Spacy. Cosy. But most importantly, only one door in. Perfect chokehold for defending.
You stood in doorway, ready to snipe anyone who ran into corridor. Your knuckles were pale from holding gun so tightly. Ten more minutes passed, before shootout died down. After few another moments, you allowed yourself to holster weapons. Spare glance to civilian - traumatized, but fine. No physical injury.
The moment you turned head back towards corridor, you pulled semi out faster than you thought about it.
"It's me!" The soldier cried. The voice - it was the young man you spared. Single gunshot echoed off walls, making him collapse with pained yelp. "Please- tell him to have mercy, please!"
You stood frozen, staring down at him. Bloodied hands reached out for you. Tugged at your attire, pleas unending. Such familiar sight. END HIM.
"I'm sorry." You whispered, seeing with corner of your eyes Boothill approaching the victim.
"You told me to surrender, I did. Tell him! Please. Tell him to stop. I want to go back home tonight."
Cyborg slowed, then stopped. Such peculiar scene; the longer you stuck around, the more questions for you appeared in his mind. Not that he had plans of actually accepting your offer of partnership. Rangers worked alone most of the time. Not to mention his suicidal and reckless behavior that would be burden for anyone following him longer than necessary. There weren't many fellas who wanted to deal with that.
You... You also seem used to working alone. Not as a lone wolf, no. More akin to hound, released from his leash. You fight like a wild animal, tearing through anything on your way - armor or flesh, didn't seem to matter to you so long the body dropped dead. Or useless, given victims left still alive, even if not for long, after rendered defenceless.
Boothill mentally organized your messy style as someone who most probably worked as mercenary. Your slashes were too sloppy for assassin. You didn't target vital organs or head like he did - a hitman likes to do his job clean. You dragged intestines of whoever crossed you all over the place... Literally.
Therefore, seeing some emotions actually twist your poker face for once, made him curious yet again. You couldn't tear eyes off IPC bastard that he found trying to sneak away. One you supposedly spared. You looked... Sad. Conflicted. Perhaps even guilty, panicked. This didn't fit opinion of you he carefully crafted so far.
"I can't." There. You risked glance up at him, right after saying it quietly. As if you waited for him to react. All tense. Slouched like a kid about to be scolded, unlike your usual straight, confident soldier-like pose.
Boothill only tilted his head. He hated those rats with his whole mechanical body and whatever was left of his flesh. But even he had enough decency to leave alone a man who just wants to go back to his family. It struck a chord inside him that he didn't want to unpack. There was no dignity in shooting back of someone who gives up. He was just a small cog in much bigger machine. And Boothill was after the one that piloted it.
Silence dragged uncomfortably, broken only by cries of fallen one. Cowboy sighed, shaking his head. "Get outta here before I change my mind." He muttered, stepping around him. With brief look exchange with you, he passed by to talk to the mechanic.
In mean time, you sneakily handed the soldier small wrap of bandages. "Use turniquet on that leg. Get medic asap." You whispered, helping him stand up. Only to nudge him away. Better not to test patience of those who ordered you around.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
The ship both of you hopped on was eeriely quiet once 'night' fell. Employees, as well as other guests who also hitched a ride all went to their respective rooms. Boothill was also assigned one. You invited yourself into it wordlessly, after finally being able to locate him. It took you both some time to loose tail in crowded city. Much more for you to find way back to cowboy when he ditched YOU as well. Good thing you spotted familiar hat boarding. Luck was on your side as you catched up last second before ship flew up.
Cyborg did not look pleased when you appeared at his side. Or perhaps it was because you invaded his privacy. Space assigned was small for one human. Two? It was really suffocating.
You settled for sitting at windowsill, leaving bunk bed free. Ranger's feet dangled off it's frame, too short for tall man. Metal clinked periodically as he performed tricks with his revolver to pass the time, deep in thought.
"Why do you want to get rid of me so much?" You prompted after a while of watching him spin the weapon. The silence was driving you crazy already, dimming burning sensation of wounds slowly healing.
"Why do ya wanna stick to me so much?" Boothill countered, not stopping his showoff.
You clenched jaw, not wanting to give off true reason. Wasn't it pathetic? Someone so strong surely would think so. You rubbed your chest, feeling that odd heaviness within persist for a while now. It appeared periodically, though you never trully could make out what it meant exactly. Maybe you were allergic to some kind of food.
"Listen." Boothill sighed, sitting up after never receiving answer. "If ya wanna team up so bad, the least you can do be truthfull. I ain't makin' friends with a mother-lovin' liar. Think I don't know yer been hiding somethin' all this time?"
You tore gaze off endless cosmoss outside, daring to meet his. Words were still stuck in your throat, mind trying to conjure a way to speak without scaring him away.
"You can use someone strong like me. I could help you greatly with achieving your goals." You attempted to soothe anger that boiled within him.
"Don't bullshirt me." He snapped. With one big step he approached, pointing muzzle at your head. "I killed you once already. Ya think I don't have the guts to do it again?"
"I have no reason to doubt you." You replied, not moving an inch. While your body tensed, breath shallowing in anticipation, you fought off weird emotions inside. A DISAPPOINTMENT IS WHAT YOU ARE, AS ALWAYS.
"Then speak." Ranger growled through clenched teeth, leaning closer. "Or else I don't mind givin' ya lead headache."
"I'm cursed." You sighed, eyes focused on star like medals on his chest. "My people believed this type of immortality is gift. Blessing of sky deities."
"This why ya woke up from dead?" Cowboy's tone softened a little, curiosity now piqued.
"Yes." You nodded absentmindedly.
"I'm guessin' it comes with a cost if yer call it curse." Boothill lowered gun, mulling over your words.
"Indeed. It's..." You looked down at your palms. How often now they were stained with blood? Orders were orders, but those whispers.... You flinched at sudden noise, fingers snapping in front of your face bringing you back to reality. "Pardon. Like you say, my powers have a downside."
"Which is?"
"How do I put it..." You trailed off, while ranger sat down on the bed. "I hear it's whispers. The curse calls my name, urging me to do violent things. Amidst the battle I sometimes loose myself in it."
"That would'a explain why yer looked like insane psycho back then. Cause ya are one." The man huffed, tilting his head in thought. "Still, what does it have to do with me?"
You turned towards window, fidgeting with your hands. "You proved you can kill me. I thought that- that maybe I can have a master whom I won't kill on accident."
"Master?" Boothill repeated, taken aback. "All this just cause I ain't human no more?"
"You still are one. Just more resilient." You reasoned. Your voice didn't sound as convincing as you would have liked though. "Skilled. Strong. A good choice. My late master passed away a long time ago now. I don't know what else I'm supposed to do."
Uncomfortable silence settled between the two of you. Your skin itched to do something. Stand up, clean weapon, ask him to respond, whatever. Sitting in agonizing nothing was pure torture right now. That piercing, heavy hollowness inside your sinful soul certainly didn't help.
"Lemme get this straight. You are free. Ya can do whatever you desire. And you want to become a slave AGAIN?"
You flinched, not expecting such sudden outburst. Boothill stared at you with unreadable expression, brows furrowed.
"I tried to do my own thing. What I knew. But even peace feels empty. Cold." You said after a moment, fingers digging into your thighs. "I tried, I failed. What else am I supposed to do? I need a master. I need guidance."
"So they can make every decision for you? That's not guidance. That's a forkin' leash for naive." Cyborg grumbled, dragging palm over face. Somehow, you were making him more exhausted that all the fights he's been through in the last days. "Whaddya need is to think for yourself, find a goal for yerself."
"What part of 'I tried' you don't understand?" You snapped back, his anger and stress getting into you as well. "I tried to make friends. They died. I tried to partner with others, I killed them after loosing control. I tried to live by myself in the middle of nowhere - the curse called me more than ever, driving insane! What am I supposed to do? I can't even kill myself!"
"Then try again!" Cowboy spat out agitated. "Yer not a hound for fork's sake! You want a master? What if they make you kill civilians? Random people, children? Will ya obey that as well, just cause they told ya to, cause it's easier than livin' for yerself?!"
"I had to." You admitted after a beat, quietly. "So that wouldn't be nothing new."
"...What."
"Orders are orders. If I didn't obey, more people would be harmed." Your gaze shifted to the floor. "I don't feel good with it. But I feel worse when I feel like this all the time on my own. It's crushing me." Your voice dropped to a whisper. "You seem like someone who would be a good owner. Someone who can make this feeling go away. You only kill bad people."
Faint hum of ship was all that you could hear. Somehow, it was much worse than any insults he could throw your way. It stretched for eternity. Your own heartbeat felt so loud, you were sure he could hear it too. Blood rushed in your veins, producing uncomfortable ringing in your ears.
"I need a drink." Boothill spoke flatly, turning around sharply. "DON'T follow me."
Doors slammed after him, making you jump up. Now you were left only with self destructive thoughts. CONGRATULATIONS - YOU FUCKED UP LIKE ALWAYS. You swallowed hard, feeling your throat tighten. Nobody choked you - so why? Why your own body behaved this way? Was this also part of your insanity?
You should sleep while you can. It was a long day. Or night. You lost track of time entirely due to recent events. Alas, Boothill will surely use any opportunity to leave you as far behind as possible. You poured your guts out for him - you can't give up now. You couldn't bear the thought of coming back to that forsaken house in the woods. Taking shady jobs also felt like wrong choice for some reason.
You looked at vast universe beyond thick glass. If anyone was watching over you - which you doubted - then please... You need a sign. That you were on the good path. That friendship with the cowboy won't end up like always. That you won't loose your mind completely.
Notes:
Guess who's back~
I thought I'll be ready to update earlier but I had one hell of a writer's art block.Anyway, the good, the bad, the cat in the bag;
Sometimes updates can be biweekly (shouldn't take longer than month)
...but that's mainly because future chapters are longer (the early ones are from 2k-3,5k words pech chapter, future ones range from 3k-5k)
Boothill is faced with reader's gruesome character and past; and that's quite a lot to take in. How those two will proceed, navigate through their crashing mindsets?
The one who obeys without a word
vs
The one who won't go down without a fight;
Will one drag the other down, will they kill each other, or perhaps save each other?PS I write this mostly at night on my phone, so I refuse to use the long dash. I'm too lazy to copy paste it every time #sorrynotsorry, hope it's not big of an issue for yall
Chapter 8: Misery loves company
Notes:
Y'all I wrote this high as fuck on medication, then proofread while sleep deprived so sorry for quality drop of this and next chapter lol
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
BANG!
Being violently awoken by a gunshot gave you deja vú. You blinked a few times. Sweet hells, your mind worked so slow due to exhaustion. It took a moment for memories to flood back, explaining why you were sleeping at such odd place. Crammed on small roof between two bigger buildings. Boothill's hotel was on the opposite side of street.
It was still middle of the night, two tiny moons high on the sky. Sound that pulled you out of Morpheus embrace was muffled. They used a silencer... Which meant if you heard it, you were close. Wait, fuck, Boothill-
You stood up quickly. Too quickly. World began to spin, vision fading to black for a moment. Only grabbing street lamp saved you from diving head first towards pavement.
You ran along the street, heading in the direction you thought the sound came from. Was he in trouble? Did he try to leave you behind again? Fuck, when did you even doze off?
Wherever main street branched off into smaller alley, you looked into it. Passing by second dead end, you halted so sharply you had to take a few steps to fully loose momentum. There were some people here!
You rushed in with sense of urgency. Hand already gripping your pistol. If you can help Boothill in bad situation, maybe he will stop being mad?
"Another one?" One of three men spat out with disgust at the sight of you. Shoot, SHOOT!
Your mouth opened to speak. But your hand was faster. Your subconsciousness realized he lifted weapon, before tired mind fully understood the situation. The curse guided your finger onto trigger, stress in your tight muscles making it way too easy to send a few rounds into stranger. He staggered back wordlessly, then dropped dead. Not even a gasp. HOW DISAPPOINTING.
"Back off, hands up!" You yelled at the two other people. Those immediately stepped away from their victim. Approaching closer, you finally looked at them, expecting familiar face. "Boothill?" The name fell from your lips, your eyes straining to see in dim environment.
"I'm afraid not, friend." Different voice. Much lighter. Smoother. Now that you actually paid more attention, this person was also much shorter than the cowboy. There was no mechanical body, just grey shirt beneath decorative brownish coat.
You stood frozen, gears turning awfully slow in your mind. This wasn't him. Whoops. Did Boothill already leave? Was he still at hotel? Are you gonna get in trouble-
"Listen pal, we are not gonna say a word to anyone, okay? Just let me and Vivo leave." The man who held blonde by his neck spoke to you, eyeing with fear corpse of his comrade. "We won't touch that Sigonian scum either. Just let us go, yeah?"
ELIMINATE ALL WITNESSES!
"Go." You grumbled, holstering your weapon. You grabbed attire of said 'sigonian scum', whatever that meant. Then yanked him up, holding till he stood steadily on his legs. "Do not think about shooting me in the back or I will kill you both. Painfully." You added over your shoulder. You were too tired to actually deal with witnesses. Hells, you should also leave before someone gets too curious and finds body.
You gave some space poor man, while his bullies (those that were still alive) quickly passed you by, immediately breaking into sprint. You stared blankly at hom, taking in peculiar appearance. Hair was light, rather short. Purplish eyes seemed to almost glow in darkness. Perhaps those too were artificial? Coat had soft fur that would be way too warm for such hot weather in your opinion. Black gloves hid his hands, adorned with various jewelery and watch, reflecting faintly light from main road. What piqued your interest wasn't the beauty nor amount of riches he wore. It was tattoo on the side of his neck. Though you couldn't understand the letters, you knew what such symbols meant. He was a slave.
"Are you alright?" You asked, yawning, then rubbing your eyes. "Do you need me to escort you, so your master doesn't punish you for getting into trouble or something?"
"My master?" Stranger echoed, tilting his head in surprise.
"Yeah. They don't like when we don't do things their way, no?" You offered awkward smile, trying to show you were on his side. "I don't want you to get second beating for something you can't control."
A... Laugh. You didn't expect that. Did you say something funny?
"Oh dear... Don't worry about that. I may be corporate bitch, but I don't serve anyone like that anymore." You flinched when he reached out for your hand, gently lifting it. Then bowed down, pressing his lips to your knuckles. What the fuck? "Although, I am touched by your thoughtfulness, and grateful for saving me from those-"
"What are you doing?" You interrupted him, frozen still. "Those hands took countless lives. Are you not disgusted?"
"Should I?" The blonde simply offered another charming smile. Completely unbothered. The longer you stared into his gaze, the more it reminded you of sly fox, rather than gentle lamb. "They saved my life. So I am expressing my gratitude."
"...okay, whatever." Maybe indeed, you were too exhausted to process everything right now. It was a long week with very few hours of sleep. Perhaps this was a just odd dream...
"Anyway. My name is Aventurine, and you...?" He paused, waiting for you to fill in. You did, without thinking much of it. "Well, friend. Allow me to repay this kindness."
A bundle of money was shoved into your palm. Local currency. A lot of it. "What am I supposed to do with it?"
Another soft chuckle. "Surely there is something you want. Money can buy everything."
You wished he was right. No amount of coin could fill gaping wound in your heart. No amount of gold could fix your fucked up brain, nor redeem your corrupted soul. Though, there was one thing you could do with it...
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
...Things didn't exactly do the way you expected. To your surprise, Boothill was awake when you softly knocked on door to his room. It meant you didn't have to wait till morning... And that was the only good thing.
"Where did you even get so much money?" He pressed after seeing your peace offering, cogs quickly turning in his mind. "Who died for that?" He added with rather misplaced joke.
"A bandit." You replied flatly, not picking up on it not being genuine question. "I found-"
"Aeons, can you NOT get into trouble for at least a fudging WEEK?" Ranger sighed, annoyance palpable in his tone.
"They cornered a civilian." You excused yourself quietly, dropping gaze to the floor in shame. "My apologies, sir. I acted without thinking."
"Yeah, You seem to do that a lot." Another angered grumble, words soaked in venom. You flinched when he slammed money on the counter, running fingers through hair. "Just- get outta here. I need some space."
You stood still awkwardly for a beat, waiting if he was going to punish you somehow. "Was it wrong? I helped someone. That's something good, no?" You asked meekly, now unsure whether you made the right call based on his behavior.
"It was." Cyborg replied, a bit more gently this time. He still stood with his back towards you, leaning on kitchen island with his arms.
"...Then why are you mad at me, sir?" Your fingers trembled. You grasped edges of your cloak to stop them from it. "I do everything I can to aid."
"Because I ain't gonna be the chain 'round yer neck. I ain't anyones master and I refuse to be one. Which you don't seem to understand."
"But-"
"No." He interrupted you harshly. "I gave you ma' answer. Lotta times actually."
You shut your mouth, feeling muscles in your throat constrict again. Your poor heart worked over time, adrenaline buzzing in your veins from... Fear?
"I don't want to be alone again." You begged, feeling too small to bear the weight of something latching onto your soul. As if dragging it down, to depths of eternal pit.
"And I don't want to babysit a murderer." Cowboy took a deep breath, closing his eyes. He sought bounties for blood stained killers like you. Was he really wondering if teaming up with him was worth it? "If we were to work together, ya need to think for yourself. WITHOUT killing random fellas."
"I understand, sir."
"Don't call me that."
"My apologies, si-" You coughed, trying to cover up your slip up. "...-Boothill."
Uncomfortable silence fell between the two of you. While the man was mulling over everything, you stood unnaturally still, barely breathing from stress. Tension was so thick, it felt like you were choking on perfectly good air.
"Do you even feel bad?" He spoke after eternity of your unease. This time, his voice was softer. Which was entirely another layer of eerie atmosphere. "Guilty? From killin' all those who didn't deserve it? Don't lie."
"...I'm not sure." You admitted truthfully, barely audibly. "I did what they told me to without trying to dwell on it. I didn't have a choice anyway. Sometimes it felt wrong... Heavy. Like someone gutted me alive, even if there were no wounds on my body."
"Maybe you ain't too far gone then." Cyborg shook his head, tapping wooden counter. "I ain't saint either, don't get me wrong. I will prolly be joinin' ya in hell. Still, there are rules to follow. Fundamentals, one should never cross... Never bully the weak, never kill the innocents."
"I understand." You nodded, a little bit of hope back in your heart.
"Now, get outta here."
"What? But-" You panicked. Wasn't he going to accept you?
"I need space." Boothill cut you off. "Gotta settle some things... Lay low for a while. Figure out if I truly wanna get into yer mess."
You tightened grip on your clothes, slouching in shame. Of course... How naive of you to expect him to forgive sins you committed based off your empty promises.
"Also... stop stalkin' me. It's creepy. Plenty of space in the town, 'm sure ya can find somethin' useful to do. Ya know where to find me in case of emergency."
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
Do people of this planet ever have sunny days? It was always so gloomy. Whenever wind didn't try to tear skin off your bones or storm wasn't already attempting to drown everyone, that is.
Since you gave most of your money to Boothill, you still slept in that corner on the other side of street. Usually, buildings that towered from left and right made it pretty dry place. Shielded from cold breeze as well. Today? Today Aeons said 'fuck you, in particular', making it pour straight down, rendering your cover useless. Another night you were brutally woken up against your will.
You roamed the streets, steps carrying sense of urgency, trying to find dry place.Somewhere you could curl up and have mental breakdown in peace. Cold seeped into your tired body, gnawing on your flesh with prickly, icy teeth. Air carried rage of the skies. Like pack of invisible wolves, it pushed you around from time to time, attempted to halt your steps. You weren't even sure how to fight against it. One second liquid sniped you from above, five minutes later it was trying to slap your face. Only to switch again after a moment, lashing against your back. You probably hated this feeling the worst. Unwelcomed memories of whip tearing through muscles on your back flooded your mind because of sensation so similar, even if much lighter, less painful.
You clenched jaw tightly, trying to shove dark past away. No use in dwelling on that. Boothill didn't carry whip. He also didn't want to be your master. Surely that meant he won't punish you if you disobey then, right? Friends don't do that. As far as you were aware. You squinted at pink blurry image down the road, barely visible through wall of water. Let that be a hotel. A bar. Shop. Or restaurant. Whatever, just anything, where you could hide at from weather tormenting you personally.
You picked up pace. You descended stairs with long strides. So close, just one push-
You slammed into doors so hard you saw stars for brief second. You blinked a few times. Cogs slowly turned in your mind. You tripped. Skipping steps, you missed one too many, leading to your face having intimate introduction to hard material of entrance.
Doors suddenly opened, pushing you back. You stumbled, tripping yet again, only this time you fell ass first onto the stairs.
"Are you... Okay?" A guard asked slowly, staring at you with puzzled expression. "Do you need help?"
Perhaps you announced your arrival a little too loudly.
"I'm fine." You blurted out, quickly standing.
You passed him by, casting a glance at poster on the inner side of door, since you didn't bother checking what blurry image outside depicted. A casino, perhaps, judging by cards drawn? Fair enough, so long you had roof over your head.
Music enveloped you, beckoning to go forwards. You expected lights to be brighter once you leave welcoming corridor. On the other hand, dim environment will make it easier for you to doze off somewhere. You left cloak on hanger near entrance, hoping it will allow you to dry quicker.
With each cautious step, your feet sank slightly into fluffy red carpet. How lovely; don't look down. Bad lightning with poor color choice could so easily trick your barely conscious mind into seeing something entirely different on that floor.
You straightened yourself out, feeling familiar tension dive it's claws into your aching muscles. Screens of slot machines flickered, symbols appearing and switching so rapidly it made your head spin again. You moved deeper into establishment, attempting to distance yourself from repetitive melodies. Whispers shared by play parents, shuffling of cards, occasional sound of wooden sticks hitting tiny numbered balls - this was much more welcomed background than artificial siren call for anyone with too much money on hand. Speaking of the devil...
"Ugh, how boring." Annoyed voice made you halt.
You scanned surrounding area, lightbulb turning on inside your mind. Your guess proved right, once your gaze fell onto blonde head siting alone at poker table. Whoever fought against him, just gathered the rest of his belongings and marched off, cursing faintly.
You took the opportunity to take in his appearance when you were a little more awake than last time. Cyan and purple eyes were hidden behind pink glasses. Feather-like earring followed each move of his head. Beneath jacket, same as earlier - or maybe it was coat? - he wore turquoise shirt adorned with gemstones. In the middle of chest it had a small window - was he aware how dangerous it was? So easy to stab him right through. On the other hand, if someone was desperate, that flimsy, thin fabric wouldn't stop them either way.
Your study was immediately forgotten the second Aventurine leaned back in his seat, throwing chip into the air. Gentle smile - one that he seemed to default to - replaced previous grimace on his face. Coin flew up and down, from one palm to another, having your full attention now. What sort of magic was that?
You tuned out anything else, mesmerized by how smoothly lucky charm danced on top of his knuckles, rolling off each finger steadily. Another kick above, only to snatch it just as quickly. Again, fingers moved like a wave beneath surfer. You stood rooted in the spot, questions rushing through your mind.
DESTROY-
They all were immediately stopped the second, something hard collided with your back. Air forcibly removed from your lungs.
"Get out of damn wa-"
You didn't hear the rest of agitated scolding. Not when adrenaline hit you so hard you saw red. Rushing blood, pushed with each loud heartbeat successfully deafened you completely. The same shade of carpet below your feet. BLOOD, BLOOD, THEY WILL PAY WITH BLOOD. Whether it was sheer fear or anger that sent you into overdrive, curse now guided your body. Or maybe this time it was simply trauma response. Your consciousness took back seat - as if you watched a move with slight delay. You saw own hands grab opponent. Faster than what seemed humanly possible. Right by the throat. NOW SQUEEZE, CHOKE HIM!
Stranger's pupils widened. Shock painted all over pale face. Not for long. You slammed him against nearest table. IMPALE THE BASTARD. Wood squealed in protest. For a second you were sure it will crumble under impact. STAB HIM!
Only then you had realized your other hand gripped tightly knife, holding it above his chest. No, no! YES. Whatever higher being watched over you, made blade stuck on golden barrier, saving his life. You shouldn't kill civilians. WHY NOT?
Unable to shove it into soft, tempting flesh, your muscles completely locked in place. No matter how much you tried to let go of the weapon, you were frozen still. Only when your legs became weak and vision went to black, someone was able to pull you away.
You stumbled back, trying to blink away blindness. Your ears finally worked. Someone was screaming at you. The victim coughed violently, kneeling on the ground. Which made you realize your own lungs felt like being ripped apart from inside out. You inhaled sharply, still dizzy from lack of oxygen.
Someone was holding you. Both arms. Right one - tall, black man, hair pulled back. The guard that let you in. Your left wrist held no one else than Aventurine. No longer smiling. Not betraying any of his thoughts through expression either.
"Are you finally back in the real world, friend?" He asked slowly, making eye contact with you.
"I'm sorry." You blurted out, ashamed. Not moving even an inch, you allowed him to pull your stiff fingers away from sharp object.
"You think sorry will fix things? You tried to murder him." Employee huffed, tightening his grip on your body. Not even a peep escaped you, despite pain being finally registered right by your nervous system.
"He hit me."
"They did indeed." Aventurine backed you up, letting go of you first with deep sigh. "Not that it was appropriate reaction, of course. It wasn't unprovoked though. How about we all go our own merry way and forget about that? I'll keep an eye on my dear friend." Charming smirk was back on his poker face, even if this time not aimed at you.
"If I see them so much as threaten someone, they are out." Kora, as employees badge said, warned subtly taking few bills from the blonde. "And I will be confiscating your weapons for your stay here." He added, staring at you.
While the rest of small crowd that gathered argued, you stared emptily at the floor. Wordlessly obeying anything they asked you to. Hopefully Boothill doesn't hear about what FAILURE you are. While exhaustion made you more prone to giving into the call of violence, it wasn't excuse. You could have rented room somewhere. Instead of being paranoid, barely sleeping, just to keep an eye on ranger. The least you could do is to keep yourself in check.
Hearing your name being called snapped you from dissociation. You were seated by table Aventurine was previously at, with him sitting on the opposite side. Once he noticed you were back with the living, his smile widened slightly.
"I must admit, this wasn't the kind of show I expected, when wishing for eventful night." The man commented, resting chin on his palm.
"My apologies." How many times you said that today? You were loosing count. For some reason though, his comment made you feel that awful heaviness in your heart again.
"Ah, enough of that." He waved his hand dismissively. "Alas, you should work on your impuls control, friend."
"I know." You trailed off, seeing him begin to play with that coin again. "How do you do that?
"Curious, aren't we?" He chuckled smoothly, flipping coin from one hand to another. Then opened them both, only to not have chip in either. "How about a game? If you win, I will teach you a few tricks. After all, I think you owe me one for saving you from getting kicked out."
"I don't really know how to play most of things they do here." You scanned surrounding tables as well as machines, pretending not to see certain guard in the corner watching you like a hawk.
"It's alright. I will teach you an easy one."
Notes:
The AO3 curse might try to catch me, but it underestimates my ability to pull out uno reverse.
Anyway here's new chapter, it gotta get bad before it gets good y'know
Chapter Text
Does he feed you at all?
That was only one of many questions that rose in gambler's mind, gaze focused on you. He didn't have to argue with you long; 'all tab's on me!' was enough for you to pack plate full of food from buffet. He had to give it to you though, you spared no glance to all those expensive shrimp rolls or fancy cookies. You chosen whatever was most nourishing. Perfectly cooked ribs, few roasted veggies, few bits of sushi. Quite healthy meal.
Your balanced choice was ironic, given your actual behavior during meal. Aventurine had actually paused eating how own fill to simply analyse you. You were leaning forward, one arm wrapped around the plate. While it could be just for better grip as well as smaller possibility of dropping a bite, he doubted that was the case. If looks could kill, you would slaughter anyone who dared to pass by a little too close. Like starving dog who was ready to kill for mere glance at their full bowl. Furthermore, he was wondering if you even chewed properly. You seemed to be more focused on eating as much as possible in shortest amount of time, rather than enjoying taste. Unfrtunately, it was trait he often noticed in slaves, beggars or other oppressed groups. Takes one to spot another.
"Some habits die hard, don't they?" Aventurine finally spoke, resuming digging into his cheesecake.
"Mhm, I suppose."
"Usually people keep servants to do tough job, not dirty work." He continued, piercing stare unwavering. "You on the other hand, seem like someone used to putting others in place. We're you in military? Private army perhaps?"
"You could say so..." You trailed off, few memories sparkling briefly in your mind.
"So it's not the first time you slipped like that." He hummed in response, quick to clarify when you tensed at the comment. "I don't judge. Quick reflexes are something that kept you alive until now, after all."
"I shouldn't lash out at civilians, though." You muttered in thought, slowing your chewing.
"That's unwise, yes. As much as some of those assholes ask for a beating, your approach... needs some improvement." You weren't expecting him to chuckle, disregarding heavy reality of your deed.
"Are you not afraid?" You frowned. "Mad?"
"Should I be?" Gambler tilted his head, smile unwavering. "Everyone makes mistakes. We all are just humans after all."
"My mistake could have killed him."
"True." He leaned back in his chair, making mental note of your unease. "Lucky for you, I was here to intervene. Only fair after you saved me, hmm?~"
You shrugged, picking up plate to lick it clean. This sauce was too divine for leftovers.
"What are you doing here, by the way?" Sigonian prompted, still trying to hold conversation going.
"I sought shelter from the storm."
"Wouldn't someone so on edge around people choose less crowded hotel?" Aventurine hummed, looking around. While the establishment wasn't packed, it certainly bustled with life as opposed to places away from main tourist spots.
"I had a place to stay. Unfortunately it turned out not to be entirely rainproof." You scrunched your nose in disgust, skin crawling at the feeling of clothes sticking to it.
"If you don't have money I can rent one of the rooms for you." There it was again, that smile... Kind, yet mysterious at the same time. Like a bait placed to lure in the big fish. Question was... Were you the one he got his eyes on?
"I'm grateful for the offer." You choose your words carefully, unlike usual. Maybe it was suspicion that lingered around him. Or maybe how slow your mind worked. "Although I do not wish to stray too far from my partner."
"Why are you not sharing place with him then?" Blonde eyed your drenched attire.
"We got in a fight. He told me he needs space." You finally finished the meal and leaned back, crossing arms over chest.
"So you camp around like homeless? That's distasteful. Friends should take care of each other, don't you think?"
"I don't know. I got order, I'm going to follow it. Stay out of sight unless it's emergency." Metal clinked after you placed cutlery on it. Hopefully your stomach won't disagree with this food... You chose the simplest, least processed ones. Nothing that seemed to be poisonous.
"Then why won't you rent something comfortable for yourself?" Aventurine asked gently, swirling sparkly drink in his glass. "Afraid he will leave without you?"
"He already attempted to. Tracking him down takes too much time. Easier to keep an eye on him."
"I see." Aventurine pushed his chair back, standing up gracefully. His jewelery sparkled whenever light hit it. It made you think of birds gathering shiny trinkets. "Storm is supposed to last a while. Why not make the most of it, with a game? After all, we have a deal."
You followed his suit, shoving own seat back under table. As you joined his side, he didn't move. Instead looked you up and down, sighing. He had a role to play, so did you. Yet truth be told, he genuinely felt bad for you.
"You must be cold." He announced, unbuttoning his jacket. "Allow me."
You tensed at his approach, holding your breath. SNAP THOSE WEAK LIMBS- To your surprise he paused, coat hoovering above your shoulder. You nodded silently at 'may I?', not expecting such gentleness nor checking in. On the other hand... He just saw attempted murder on someone who bumped into you. This explains carefulness.
Fuzzy leather was actually heavier than you anticiped. It hugged you tightly, like lovers safe embrace. Chilled body welcomed warmth immediately. Especially since fabric still carried hint of his own body heat. Floral scent on the other hand forced it's way up your nostrils. You thought he smelled strongly sitting on the opposite side? Yeah, now you felt like diving head first into a field full of flowers.
You grabbed edges of his suit, pulling it tighter around you. Meal? Check. Roof over head? Got it. Warmth? Better than expected. Getting priorities done, only one thing was left on your list.
Sleep.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
"The rules are easy." Aventurine waved hand to dismiss judge.
The amount of tiny balls on large pool table seemed to say otherwise. They were settled neatly in order unknown to you, directed by invisible lines. Your new friend handed you long, pointy rod, picking up identical one.
"You use cue stick to hit white ball. But only with the tip." Gambler raised his finger in a warning, bringing your attention back to him. "Your goal is to pocket the other balls using your cue. You start aiming at reds. If you can kick one into the holes, your next target will be one of other colors. If you manage to do that, you go back to reds. If you miss or don't pocket any, it's end of turn."
"That's it?" You raised brow, weighting wood in your palms. "Wait, so do I hit white or red?"
"You can only hit cue ball, the white one. If you aim well it will hit the others forcing them to move."
"Alright." You tilted your head, eyeing formation yet again. Why did you even agree to that? Oh, right. Magic tricks and disaster of first (second?) impression. "So, uh, how do we start?"
"Heads or tails?" Avgin smirked, a coin appearing in his hand; this time a normal one, of currency you did not recognized.
"Tail."
Gold flashed under warm light, spinning in the air like barrel of revolver. Which made you wonder if Boothill was still at hotel. Hopefully he didn't leave. It was dark, cold, wet. Safety of him teasing gods of skies and thunder with his metal ass aside, you selfishly were more worried about having to search him all over the place in those awful storms. If luck smiles to you, cowboy will peacefully snore in that tiny room of his, on right side of second floor.
"Heads it is. Allow me."
You blinked, snapping back to reality. Right. A game of... "What was this called again?"
"Snooker." The man hummed, leaning his pool cue on top of own palm to aim. "It's one of more popular types of..."
Right. Snooker with the rich guy. Sweet hells you could use a nap. You rubbed your eyes, taking a deep inhale. Fully belly, warmth covering your back, gentle scent of endless fields... It made you feel unusually safe. Dull ache settled deep in your flesh, more so than usual. How you longed to lie down, curl up and DIE- fall asleep. Not that you were planning to speak up about heaviness of your eyelids - like blonde said, you owed him one after he stopped you from slaughtering someone.
"...om one end of universe to another. Anyway, your turn."
"Mh?" You straightened up, quickly focusing on gambler. "Very well."
You approached table, taking in changes. Music was quieter here. Not much noise from louder parts of casino reached this part. It helped you to gather enough attention to be semifunctional.
Aventurine tried to spark up conversation with you. Alas, the longer you two played, the more sleepy you got. You were either slow to answer or completely away with your thoughts to even register his words. You simply aimed for whatever ball you were supposed to at the moment, most of your shots missing or failing to pocket anything. When gentleman in black suit approached, asking if he could join, you gladly swapped places. Leaving blonde to entertain new company, you settled in armchair nearby.
As soon as your eyelids fell, you were knocked out good.
Aventurine was no stranger to masks people wore. After all, he himself was no different - in this cruel world, one had to know how to play their cards right, how to keep poker face. At first he thought you were the same. Your expressions were subtle. You were guarded, often checking out your surroundings. Always searching - whether it was quick glance, or slight tilt head to side, locating noises beyond your field of view. He had not missed the way you coiled, ready to pounce, when he offered his suit.
Such intriguing person you were. A ticking bomb, about to go off at any hint of danger. When his gaze fell upon you tonight for the first time, you were like starstruck child. Focused on his tricks like it was only thing in the world. He took that opportunity to take in your appearance, of course.
Unfortunate guest who decided to be an asshole at wrong time ruined welcoming speech Sigonian was already preparing. Luck remained by his side of course, allowing him to make out most from events that followed.
Kakavasha's curiosity was piqued. A feral animal, ready to kill without thinking - yet so submissive, polite, when in control. Made him really wonder what was your past - it was clear you were no ordinary slave at mine post or anything like that. For brief second he entertained thoughts about the time he had to murder his way out of shackles. Did he too, have that spark of insanity in his gaze back then?
The man hummed quietly, gentle taps of balls behind reminding him he had game to play. Gambler had to indulge for a moment longer, allowing his thoughts to linger.
Why does life slumber? All because we are not ready for the final rest.
Looking at you, Aventurine doubted his own words. Your brows were furrowed lightly, tilted upwards; corners of lips pressed thinly pulled downwards. While awake, you donned mask of uncertainty, loss, whether you were aware of it or not. Beneath it laid fear and loneliness, that would shine through at times. Exhaustion beyond physical level. On the other hand, snatched into land of dreams... Somehow you appeared much worse. As if nightmares of past were just waiting till your eyes closed, so they could sink their teeth into your soul. To tear it apart, twist in punishment.
The man tore his gaze away, shifting it back towards opponent. Yet the image of such vulnerability; sorrow, desperation and guilt seemed to burn into his mind for a long time.
Perhaps death was a mercy you did not deserve yet.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
A whistle. Long. Loud enough to rouse you from shallow sleep. You sighed, cranking one eye to scan the area. Looks like peaceful rest is not for you, judging by how often lately it's interrupted. You could barely remember anything from yesterday, let alone how somehow you crawled back into your nook, still half asleep, the next morning.
Boothill stood in doorway of building on the other side of the road. You blinked few times, sitting up at the sight of him. After meeting his gaze, he held yours for a moment, before disappearing inside hotel.
Your brows furrowed in confusion. Nose on the other hand worked faster than your sight - delicious, sweet smell filled your nostrils, mouth salivating at mere idea of something good. At the edge of roof stood plastic bag. You pulled it deeper into corner. Covered from three directions, wind hardly bothered you. Of course it also meant you had only one way out, jumping down two meters to reach ground; for better or worse. At least not many people used corridor below you, leaving you alone.
You licked lips, pulling out white container of some sorts. It was soft, warm; meaning meal inside should still be hot. After opening, sight for sore eyes welcomed you. You took another whiff, stomach growling in anticipation. Some kind of noodles, bits of meat and veggies in generous amount of sauce. Oh, you will be dining like royalty today.
You dug in, not even noticing wooden cutlery that rustled in carried below box. Just quick hand wipe on inner side of cloak and good to go. After all, you ate in much worse conditions in the past.
Something moving. COMPETITION, KILL, KILL- In the corner of your eye. Orange. You curled instinctively around food. Head snapped towards danger, nose scrunched and teeth bared. Oh- a cat. MORE FOOD. What? No.
It was skinny with wounded cheek. Yet, it's stomach looked swollen, pink tips sticking out thin fur. Nips? Was she pregnant?
Poor baby. Didn't even look adult yet. On the other hand, your mother also was really young when she had you. You sometimes wondered, if breeding pairs back at the ring had worse fate than the warriors.
You reached hand with meat chunk towards kitty. She hissed at your movement, then sniffed curiously. After moment of hesitation, you decided to gently toss it towards her. Beef (or whatever it was) didn't even touch the ground before being snatched.
You observed her, growling protectively as she devoured snack as fast as possible.
"Eat slow. Don't choke. I won't take it away." You whispered softly, knowing sense of urgency while eating in unknown place. Not even mentioning eating near strangers. "We aren't much different, are we?"
Far away, on the other side of street, Boothill watched both of you through window of his dorm. His thoughts were still a mess, all because of you. When it comes to evil, it's best to deal it with single, fatal blow. Question was: were you evil?
THEY CLEARLY AIN'T PLAYIN' WITH FULL DECK, ranger thought. Yet, you tried. Would a monster gave half of their meal to stray, while they themselves had no food? He caught a glance of you searching for supplies only to find your bag empty earlier. Besides, he did kill you. Afterlife just refuses to do it's job. It's not like he could kill you extra hard.
Cowboy grumbled, dragging palm over his face. Believe in folk's good intentions... Easier said than done. His own morality struggles aside, a strong companion was tempting thought. Someone who matched his speed and strength. Perfect distraction or even back cover. Issue was, you were as safe as armed bomb.
Boothill tried not to think about what you have done in the past. If you were taught to follow orders, then how could you know there was different way? Not that it erased your sins, no.
Ah, better leave this mind-numbing philosophies for pure-hearted.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
Merchants yelled at passer-bys with practiced speeches. Caiming it was their price that was the lowest, their goods had best quality. Their herbs were more fresh than their neighbors. The woman In black had softer clothes, oh but it was one eyed man who had the most practical ones. The tastiest sweets in entire star system, come quickly! Are you sure you don't need new shoes?!
You pulled hood of your cloak tighter, overwhelmed by so many voices screaming from each direction. Your muscles were aching. Hard like stone from anxiety. Every time citizens brushed against you, the curse screamed in your head to hit them. Kick, tear, knock them out. Anything, just to have at least tiny bit of personal fucking space.
As if that wasn't enough? It was raining, again. Your cloak still bore holes from precious fights, since you were unable to find someone who could fix it cheap for you. Which meant water seeped through slashes in fabric, soaking your attire beneath it. The feeling of it sticking to your skin so disgustingly, warm, yet cold at the same time - it sent shivers down your spine. Certainly not pleasant ones.
You wanted to crawl deep beneath ground, away from everyone. Curl up in a tight ball. Shut your eyes and just rest. Alas, you couldn't. The whole past two weeks you lingered around like a shadow. Following Boothill, yet staying far enough to give him some space like he had requested. You didn't dare to sleep for long, nor stray too far, too afraid he will slip away at any given chance.
Unfortunately, some places like market, you had to be extra not to loose him amidst sea of faces. You actually hoped that storm will scare away people... But they seemed used to aggressive weather that tormented this planet way too often for your liking. It was a good thing for cowboy, for it meant not many ships flew in or out - less likely to have big squads of IPC on his tail. It was very bad thing for you, someone hating rain with your whole heart.
This was your personal hell, wasn't it? Punishment for every sinful deed you had done.
Like a hawk you stalked ranger's hat, towering above other heads. Heavy footsteps complimented by chime of machinery and accessories also gave away his presence. Among so many civils though, you were not able to rely on that.
A commotion on your left pulled your attention from him, though. He was examining goods at one of the stalls for now. A few gasps and whispers turned into yelps, screams. That was enough for you to focus on what was happening more. As you turned towards the noise, people moved out of the way. Under normal circumstances you would sing praises to whatever aeon granted such easy path. Currently though, it was suspicious.
You took a few steps forwards. Hand already resting at handle of gun. Just in case. What was happening? A robbery? Murder? Assassination in the middle of day would be odd. Even if in such shitty weather. What else would make people behave like that? Crates falling from cart? It meant attracting any opportunist that dared to snatch something valuable for themselves. Fire? No. No one would stay to watch. Such distress creates stampedes as everyone runs towards exists.
"Mom, why-" A tiny voice. Quickly interrupted.
"Don't touch it, it can have rabies!" A woman close by picked up her child, watching with disgust food booth.
You approached it, now also hearing metal clanks, fishes falling over. A shadow dashed from one box to another, too fast for anyone to get a good glance. One merchant stood at top of her own counter, as another tried to protect his own with broom.
You were about to ask what was going on, when a rat sprinted out from under display table. Right behind it was black cat, finally catching up to it. More people gasped as kitty sank teeth into rodents head. You stood completely still, watching both animals fight right under you. They trashed tohether, squeaks and feral growls being the only way to decide who was winning.
With blood splattered over pavement, bigger fur of disheveled fur won. You kneeled down, observing heavily breathing feline. No wonder it was so desperate - he was skin and bones. Some places lacked hair. Mange tormented his skin. On left hip was long lash.
"Get this thing away from it! It will bring disease!" Lady with her little boy from earlier yelled at you, as if you were the responsible for the creature.
"On the contrary. It hunted down a rat." You replied flatly, unimpressed.
"Exactly! Look at the mess it made!" Another civilian chipped in.
"You scold it for what you people literally bred it to do for generations?" You scoffed, nose scrunching in disgust. "You never cease to amaze me."
"We certainly didn't breed those to murder each other in our FOOD! Do something if you're still here!" The woman covered her offsprings eyes, shielding it from view of the rodent now being eaten raw. You shook your head, bending down to snatch the cat. It hissed and scratched you, afraid of sudden touch. "See? There is no place for such feral thing in our peaceful society."
You wanted to argue further, but the last comment cut surprisingly deep. Because what were you, if not just a stray cat? Biting the hands that fed it, afraid of another torture? Doing anything out of desperation, just so it can live to another day. This cat didn't choose his life. Neither did you. You never asked to be born in a cell, treated like cattle. To be used and abused for people's own entertainment. Then called a monster for doing everything you've been taught since the beginning of your miserable existence. Truth be told, you were only two years on your own. You did best you could to become better. Alas, there was only so much you could do to improve, without knowing any better. JUST KILL IT. GIVE IT MERCY OF DEATH.
Ignoring the urge to snap it's weak neck, you hid scrawny, tiny kitten under your cloak, shielding it from rain. Feeling claws sink into your belly made you nauseous from overwhelming need to defend yourself. You stood frozen still, fighting that instinct. It deserved a chance. It clawed because it was all it knew. You can't just kill it when it attacks from fear. You would be a hypocrite if you did.
"All it does, is try to survive."
Breath caught up in your throat, hearing husky voice behind you. You didn't exchange even one word with Boothill, since that dreadful conversation. You were sure that at the moment, he wouldn't tolerate your presence if he found out you were following against his order. So you weren't expecting him to stand up for you at all.
Civilians argued back, but you couldn't focus on what they were saying. Your attention was dedicated to heavy footsteps announcing cowboy getting closer. Your heart sank in horror. Muscles tightened, air stuck in your lungs. Will he yell at you? Will he also call you a monster? You wanted to think that you no longer were one. It's not like you killed for the sake of it. You just followed orders. Whenever you had choice, you did whatever you could to fight those violent thoughts.
Boothill didn't scream. He didn't hit you. Didn't stab nor pushed around. He just stood in front of you, face unreadable, hands reaching for kitten. Maybe it was better. You weren't made for gentle things. Poor pet was much better in his care than yours.
"I'm sorry." You were surprised to even be able to squeeze those words out, throat so painfully tight you doubted ability to swallow own saliva.
"What are ya apologizing for?" How voice betrayed how tired he was. It was still surprisingly gentle. Perhaps even too gentle for your liking - it made you feel worse, for some odd reason.
"I don't know." You answered truthfully, handing over the cat. Unlike your now bloodied hands, cyborg's metalic ones didn't get a scratch no matter animal's attempts to free itself.
He shook his head, turning around. Boothill didn't tell you to follow. But he didn't say you should fuck off either, so that was progress, right?
You clenched edges of your cloak tighter, trotting behind wordlessly.
Notes:
I ain't really proud of this chapter, I feel like it's kinda meh. I did write it barely thinking tho so maybe that's why.
Anyway I'm done trying to fix it up so here y'all go!Shootout to all commenters, the high I get from swing comment notification is like snorting a line, kicking me to go and finally write future chapters lol
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