mmm thinking about Dennis who's used to having nasty, rough, quick fucks. Dennis who's used to being degraded and defiled. a secret in broken bow, nebraska, an experiment in a college dorm, a paid hole in pittsburgh. Dennis is used to sinful, painful sex. He's never known gentle intimacy or slow strokes, everything is hard and fast and desperate.
that's all he knows, that's all he knows to beg for. and at first, that's all Jack and Robby give him. inviting a third into their bed, more than happy to treat him like a toy, stretch him open and make him cry, use him til he's wrung out and heaving. he always responds so well, he's so good for them, it's not like he doesn't like it.
but Dennis becomes more than sex, to them, more than a hot fuck, and they don't have the energy or desire to go at it rough every night. they didn't think Dennis would mind— but when their boy is shaking at gentle touch, the first of the night, curling away from it, and begging no— no, hurt me, hurt me, please. please hurt me, want it to hurt. they realize something must be very, very wrong.
"anybody ever treat you right, kid?" Jack murmurs, tugging Dennis into his lap, a hand resting protectively on his soft stomach. all the boy can do is shrug, lip trembling, not knowing what being 'treated right' even fully means. he got to cum, usually. that's all it's really about, right?
"don't have to answer, baby, don't need to," Robby soothes, smoothing his hands over Den's soft, tremoring thighs. "How about daddy shows you how good it feels to be loved? Yeah? does puppy want that?"
Dennis shudders, nods tentatively, eyes burning as he tries so, so hard not to cry.
and then they make love to him, the first he's ever experienced. jack kisses him sweet, syrupy, stroking his dick slow as Robby fucks in and out of him at a leisurely, gentle, indulgent pace. they pet soothing, tender hands over his skin, cooing all sorts of wonderful things. good boy, sweet boy, precious puppy. doing so good, taking it so good, so pretty. beautiful baby, sweet angel.
it's overwhelming in the best way; Dennis has never felt anything like this before, and it's molten bliss and purest ecstacy and an ache that caves in his ribs. he's been missing this, his whole life. feeling loved. feeling safe. this is what intimacy is supposed to be, warm and delicious and something sweet that melts on his tongue. he can't stop crying.
his orgasm hits differently than the ones of the past, rolling over him in a tidal wave of warmth and pleasure. it's so fucking nice and so fucking good it leaves him weak, dazed, his sniffles starting to fade as his lips curl in a weak grin. m's— m'sorry. don' wan— wanna cry. f-felt re— really good.
they clean him up, curl around him, every movement holding a carefulness it never did before, and part of him hates it, being pitied, babied— and oh, part of him loves it, craves it. wants to be their baby, their good boy. he's had this intimacy only once and he's addicted, especially as they take turns crooning in his ear as they pet his tummy, scratch his scalp in a way that makes him drool.
oh, baby, don't apologize, cry all you need. you did so well for us, pup, love you so, so much. such a good baby. such a sweet boy.
Or, I somehow pulled Okita Alter on the first ten pull I did on the Guda Guda 3 rerun banner (I was actually aiming for the Craft Essences, so the gold Alter Ego card kinda shocked me after all the pain that was getting Enkidu and Ishtar), and with her now sitting at Level 84 in my Chaldea (as of this writing this notes section/intro at 11:06 pm on 4/12/2021, after farming Embers for 3-4 hours on Golden Apples/Saint Quartz), I wanted to write this bit before bed.
I don't know all of Majiin's story yet, since I wasn't able to play the event's original run where she debuted, but I hope the emotions here are about right.
-------------------
"YEW BOW!"
Vy watched as Robin Hood's Noble Phantasm went off, incinerating the last Divine Arm of Dawn with plumes of purple smoke. Once the air cleared, she felt herself quietly exhale.
Another farming bit done.
"Battle finished, Senpai," Mash said faithfully, taking her Ortinax goggles off her eyes to rest them on top of her head. The sparkle in her purple eyes was all the more obvious thanks to the action, further accentuating the warm smile on her face. "Embers are all collected."
Vy stretched her arms in the air, standing on her tiptoes while nodding. Standing as a commander of Servants, while doable, still took something in social energy. Even if it was for the experience, it didn't help that wearing an outfit that supposedly came from the Far Side of the Moon felt a bit too exposing. Maybe it was the short skirt and lack of stockings. But then again, Vy couldn't voice it. Too much worry could mean overthinking it to the point of broadcasting to the other Servants. And the last few times that happened were embarrassing enough with Dr. Roman still around. So instead of that, she said, "Aye aye. Thank you for the support, beloved kouhai."
Mash blushed a little at the title, but still nodded with the same warm smile. "I-It's the least I can do, Senpai."
"And I'm always grateful for that, Mash." Vy shot her a smile back once she felt that telling crack in her spine, rocking her head back and forth. To everyone else, she took a breath before opening her mouth. "Good job, everyone!"
Robin Hood, the MVP of the quest this time, shot Vy a wry grin in return, saluting her with one pointer finger. "Getting to fight on the front lines is at least easier now," he quipped. "But give me a break sometimes, Master."
"Oh, shushie, big Robin, you have more energy than me and I'm the workaholic." Once his green eye was boring holes into her forehead, though, Vy amended it with a more kind, less sardonic, "If it helps, I'll give you a chocolate chip muffin later?"
The May King merely grinned. Before he could say anything, though, Ishtar let out a haughty laugh, hovering over Robin's head with Maana as she put a hand to her chin. "How delightfully droll, green Archer! All this work for a muffin! Nonsense! As the Goddess of Love, I could certainly help you with whatever thoughts you have lingering in your mind instead—"
"Sorry, little lady. Compared to my little sparrow's gifts, that offer is going to get a hard pass. Plus, you're not my type."
Ishtar wilted as soon as she bloomed, Maana descending to near ground level as a result. Nearby, Vy could hear Mash laugh sheepishly, adjusting her hold on her shield as the last member of their party made themselves known with a soft sigh at Vy's other side.
The back of a gloved hand brushed Vy's free one, the one that didn't have the Command Spells, and Vy tried not to flinch away at the new sensation. Sure, the being known as Okita Souji Alter was still someone Vy was trying to grasp in emotional understanding. Even when being close to Final Ascension, there was something about Okita's eyes lingering on Vy's form the entire time they went about farming for the Embers Okita needed that was a little... different from the other Servants in Chaldea's roster. And yes, Okita wasn't the first Alter Vy had ever contracted with. Saber Alter had that honor bagged. It didn't make the constant surveillance any less... strange to think about, really.
But Okita had still answered her call when Vy wasn't expecting it. More so after her original self and some others didn't. And considering the Lostbelts and what would come, all Vy could feel herself doing in response to the small touch was reach over and grab Okita's fingers before the Alter Ego could lurch away.
"Majiin-san?"
"Wh-What is it, Master?" Okita Alter said after a second of consideration, her pale yellow — almost silver, really, when looking up close — eyes automatically locking onto Vy as she tilted her head downwards. They were close enough to where Vy could see her own image reflected in Okita's darkened irises. "Is there something wrong?"
"N-No no, nothing really." Vy glanced down at their entangled hands, feeling the thoughts rush through her at that moment. "I just..."
Calloused. Signs of bruises. How long had she been—
Before me, where had she—
Okita Alter's hands reminded her of Archer EMIYA's.
To Vy, Okita Alter's touch felt like Shirou's.
A wind passed between them. Vy wasn't sure if it was from the simulator or her brain making up the sensation.
"...Vy?" Okita whispered.
Anxiety was bubbling up in her throat, but Vy still raised her head and looked up at the taller Alter Ego with what she hoped was a genuine smile. She couldn't help but tug and squeeze the Servant's fingers a bit tighter as she said in a softer voice, "Are you having fun working with us, Okii-san?"
Okita Alter blinked once. Twice. Thrice. Then many times over, as if gears were turning in her head before her eyes widened to the size of plates. "Okii...san?"
"You're the only Okita I ever got to know," Vy said with a shy laugh, doing her best to ignore the eyes of the other Servants while speaking her mind. "So, Okii-san. And, I know you're not at full power yet, but, let me try again..." Vy gulped, finishing with a softer, "Are you happy right now?"
Am I helping you enough like how I did with Shirou, Mash, and big Robin?
Okita Alter stared at Vy for a while. The attention was enough to make Vy tempted to run, to want to let go of Okita's hand and hide her face away, but something inside of her was forcing her to stay still.
Silvery-yellow eyes reflected Vy's image for what felt like a long time before they closed, a soft sigh on Okita's lips.
"Okii-san? Um. Sh-Should I have not gone with that name? Should we go farm a bit more instead? O-Or should I go cook some oden when we—"
Instead of a verbal answer, Okita's long sword had disappeared into visible sparkles, and before Vy knew it, hands were reaching under her elbows, winding around her waist and—
"W-Wah!"
Despite being lifted up in the air and feeling very much like a teddy bear as a result (what was it with Servants either headpatting or hugging her like this?), Vy couldn't miss the warm solemn smile on Okita's face. "O-Okii-san?"
"...My anchor, my lord, my Master," Okita said in slow, gentle succession, her hold on Vy's figure almost considerate as she slowly brought her arms in to let Vy rest her hands on Okita's shoulders. "Why worry about that?" A nose gently brushed hers, sparking a sudden giggle from Vy's lips at the ticklish feeling as Okita smiled again. "Believe me, my shooting star." A shaky breath brushed Vy's cheeks as one of Okita's hands rested on the back of Vy's head, barely missing her ponytail and almost cradling her as their foreheads touched. Something sang through their Master-Servant mental connection.
"Okii-san—?"
"I honestly wish this kind of happiness could go on forever."
...Oh.
It was telling that none of the other Servants were saying anything.
Vy still raised her hands to wrap them around Okita's neck, pushing Okita's forehead back with a bit of force. Not enough to cause pain, but enough for a reminder. "We can just make more, Okii-san," Vy whispered, closing her eyes. "Even when this happiness goes away, we can still make more. Whether it's through memories or spending time together, happiness can happen. As long as we're alive, we can do it."
Once Vy opened her eyes, Okita was already in the process of putting her back down to Earth, that same solemn smile on her face. "Of course, Master."
It felt like another promise Vy knew she had to keep.
-------------------
"Emiya-kun! We need dinner!"
"Sheesh, even when possessed by a goddess, you're still so rude..."
Vy watched from afar as the other Servants slowly filed into the Novum Chaldea Dining Hall for dinner, her back against one of the hallway walls as her mental battery sputtered.
Maybe I should take a break from Ember Gathering for a while—
A soft whish of the air was all the signal she had before the scent of wood and smoke graced her nose. Coincidentally, a gloved hand rested on top of her head as a part of something green shaded half of her vision.
"...Robin?"
"You could go join them," Archer said softly. "You don't have to stay here, Vy."
"...Later." Vy tried to hold back a yawn. When it became obvious Robin Hood was staring holes into her head, though, she quietly amended the situation with a tiny, "When I have more energy, big Robin. Kinda operating on low social battery at the moment."
Plus Okii-san apparently hugs harder than most people, it seems.
The hand on her head patted her hair almost immediately. "Fine fine."
You should let yourself rest more before you try to take care of others, Master.
"Just, um. Big Robin?"
The headpatting stopped for a second. "What is it, little sparrow?"
As much as her heart was protesting at the selfishness of her brain, Vy still found herself admitting, "...Could I just stay with you for a bit? Don't wanna move for a while..."
Silence. Then, Robin Hood said in the most deadpan voice possible, "That sounds like you need a nap more than anything, Vy."
Vy tried not to grumble, ducking her head. She tried not to fidget once Robin's other hand reached up to her ponytail, undoing her hair tie to let all the long locks flow freely. "I know, I know... I love you too, Robin, just, less quip, more hug..."
Robin Hood paused, long enough for Vy to feel something in the air shift between them, before the hand on top of her head tugged her one way, enough for Vy's shoes to scuff the sides of the wall. In spite of the force, all Vy could do was blearily blink as soon as a faint kiss was pressed to her forehead.
Huh? "Robin...?"
"You selfless Master," Robin Hood muttered against the crown of her hair, arms winding around her waist to pull her to his chest. "Rest more for our sakes too, won't you? Killing yourself won't help anyone."
"I-I'm not killing myself when it's helping all of you find better things in life..."
Robin Hood sighed. Another kiss pressed against Vy's head, this time more noticeable to the point of her heart skipping a beat, before the No Face May King covered her shoulders. "Silly Master. Life is more than just giving things up for 'the better.'"
What will happen to us and that 'better' if you're not around to see it?
As much as Vy wanted to, she couldn't answer. Sleep was beckoning. The last thing she remembered before the peaceful darkness came was something gently brushing her lips. For all she knew, the sensation may as well have been the beginning of a dream.
author's note: so this is just a bit of world building for the dark fantasy au, specifically Lavender and Jaskier's reunion after Geralt kills Ira
this is pretty much what precedes this piece
so like, yeet
---------------------
The night is growing darker, her coin purse fatter, and the tavern patrons drunker with each song she plays. So drunk and rowdy are the villagers that they don't notice the entrance of the witcher and his companion.
But she does. If not for her decades long muscle memory, the wave of horror, relief, and confusion that crashes into her would have made her fumble the next chords.
For standing next to the witcher was Jaskier. Six years had passed since she had last heard from him, five since anyone had last seen him. But…something was wrong.
It was in the simplicity of his outfit, a plain icy blue chemise tucked into black trousers; the lack of reaction when he saw her on stage, a mere passing glance with eyes shadowed in the lamplight where once there would have been a crow of delight or perhaps a good-natured heckling; the suspicious lack of a lute case swung around his torso, instead carried by the hulking figure next to him. And the mere presence of the other man next to her friend. The vitriol and heartbreak staining his words whilst describing the dragon’s quest and vow to never follow the man who’d thrown him away burned in her mind’s eye as the witcher gently steered Jaskier to a table.
Something was very, very wrong.
But she still had a few songs in her set left. And she still hadn't eaten. Fuck.
-------------
The bard was watching them. She was doing a good job of hiding it, but he could feel her eyes linger on them as she pranced around the tavern. He was unsure of what she wanted with them but her gaze kept slipping towards Jaskier and it was making him uneasy. His medallion’s near constant vibrations due to the ex-bard had only increased as soon as they stepped into the tavern and grew each time she moved closer. It was only the man across from him’s insistence he “Eat a proper meal, Geralt, by the gods!” that kept him from dragging the ex-bard out of the tavern and into the safety of the woods. He could still feel the heat from Jaskier’s glare after he noticed the witcher skimping on feeding himself to increase their pace. The man’s threat to drink all of his potions in retaliation echoes in his mind as he sips his watery broth.
“My dears, I am quite saddened to say that this is the end of my performance! I feel quite honored to have been graced with your presence but, I am quite famished. I wish you all a very good night!”
With that, the bard packs up her lute and hops of the stage. By the humming of his medallion, Geralt knew without looking that she was approaching their table.
Fuck.
-------------
It’s a relief when the crowd lets her go easily. She starts packing her lute back into its case, gathering the coins scattered around, when she spares a glance towards the corner. Her eyes meet Jaskier’s, his head tilting to the side ever so slightly as he gazes back at her. It should feel like an invitation or curiosity but unease settles in her gut instead. It’s hard to make out his face in the shadows but she swears it’s completely blank.
Eager to get her meal but even more eager to confront the once missing man, she nods towards the barkeep. He nods back and she sets her sights on the corner table. With every step she takes, the witcher grows ever tenser. By the time she makes it within a meter or two of their table, his scowl had deepened to a near snarl and she can hear the wooden tankard splintering under his grasp. If it were anyone else, she would have stayed away. But her friend is sitting there, blankly watching her approach, not even a smile on his lips.
She stops within a meter of the table, a frown playing on her lips. As soon as she opens her mouth to speak, Jaskier cuts her off. A smile slides its way onto his face and he jumps up out of his seat, arms waving.
"Ah, Lavender! Hello! A wonderfully dull set as always,” he teases.
He’s always been a good actor, she thinks absentmindedly.
The bubbly personality she knows from experience is perfect. But it’s the pulsing wave of malevolencehateempty f a e that shreds her budding hope. The smell of mist and decay clings to it, the scent only detectable to other faerie.
“That was weaker than Marx’s attempt to hold a sword and we both know it,” she snipes back, “What’s wrong?”
And just like that, he freezes. The mask he put on slides off and a frigid stare replaces it. It reminds her too much of another icy gaze as the pulsing wave of malevolencehateempty f a e grows. Alarm bells ring in her head as he sits back down.
“Nothing is wrong, go back to your seat," his words are like icicles, piercing through any lingering hope that she was mistaken.
Fear, dread, concern, anger. They well within her breast, nearly choking her. She takes a moment and breathes deeply, wrestling the tidal wave down to a more manageable trickle. It would do her no good to lose control here.
Once she can breathe freely, she glances around the tavern. Seeing that no one is paying them much attention she summons a quick privacy ward around them. She rolls her eyes as the witcher shoots her a look, his hand drifting towards the swords leaning against the wall.
"To keep this between us," she mutters before squinting at Jaskier.
He gazes back at her, the frigid look replaced with empty eyes. Dread rises in her but she squashes it back down. She steps closer and leans against the table, gazing directly into Jaskier’s eyes as she does. She thinks of choosing her next words carefully but decides not to as another pulse of magic washes over her.
"Buttercup, if nothing's wrong, then what in Melitele's name are you wearing and why are you traveling with him again? Furthermore, darling, why do you reek of fae magic?"
While speaking, she slips into the seat next to Jaskier, heedless of the warning growl Geralt let out. A quick wave of her hand and the witcher is frozen. She goes to say something else but a hand grabs her wrist, it’s grip bordering on painful.
“Let him go,” Jaskier growls.
His rumbling voice drags forth that wave of emotion she was trying desperately to smother. Whatever she was going to say dies on her tongue as she takes in the man in front of her. The cold glare from before had nothing on the fire in his eyes. They burn brighter than the sun as they pin her in place. Her heart quickens to a rabbit's pace and she can hear her blood rushing in her ears. Distantly, she thinks of a lyric comparing them to the blazing blue stars above.
Her musing is cut off as a gasp escapes her, that pulsing magic turning hot and the empty feeling replaced by rageragerage. It burns against her own magic, feeling as if she was stuck in a raging forest fire. Ozone and smoke follows it and she’s quick to release the witcher. The man grunts as he’s unfrozen and the hand gripping her wrist let’s go.
“Shit, Jaskier,” she pants, as the ozone/smoke smell recedes and is replaced by the previous scent.
She goes to rub her wrist, eyes darting down to it. She wrestles the wave back down again, hesitant to look back into those eyes. They were near identical to another pair, one that haunts her dreams and forced her into human civilization all those years ago. She shakes her head softly and steels herself.
She expects lingering embers, an echo of resentment, when she brings her gaze back up.
Instead all that meets her is a blank slate, barely anything smoldering behind them. Something else makes her pause. She hadn’t noticed before but now she can make out a film of magic, separate from that pulsing wave, covering those eyes. She leans closer and pushes past it, hoping to lift it, even for a moment. Her heart aches as Jaskier blinks and the glamour is removed. He doesn't react to her touching his hand nor when she softly cups his face.
It’s like he can’t even feel it.
Her thumb gently rubs the stubble underneath it as she gazes into his pupiless eyes.
As the world faded away, and Remmy’s fist flew through the air, a thought struck them: this wasn’t helping.
---
“Pull the trigger, McAllister!” Lancer shouted. He was across the field, Remmy could see him. “PULL THE TRIGGER!”
Remmy trembled. Let out a shout. Closed their eyes.
Pulled the trigger.
---
Remmy’s ears were ringing and they blinked. Whatever was in the cage with them-- the guy had said it was a chupacabra or something-- had gotten a good swipe on them, and their head had collided hard with the ground. Enough to make them see stars for a second as they rolled out of the way of piercing claws.
A foot clobbered them sideways and their head bounced off the post.
---
“We have to go,” came the low voice. “Now.”
“We can’t move them.” A desperate voice. Remmy knew that voice.
“If we don’t move, we’re probably dead.”
“If we do move, McAllister is definitely dead.”
---
Remmy clawed their way up the fence to stand again. The creature gave a hideous yowl and ran at them full speed, ramming its entire body weight against them. They flew back against the fence again, sputtering. It didn’t hurt, but something about the weight of it made them wince.
Remmy caught themself on the fence again, fighting to stay standing.
“...hard hit...”
Remmy blinked, stars in their eyes. Their arms shook with an unknown force.
“Looks li....the Undead Underdog.....ggling....”
Remmy stumbled a little, looking up to see the creature pacing on the other side of the ring. It was preparing for another strike, despite the blood gushing from its face, despite the limp in its walk. Why didn’t it know when to give up? What drove animals to fight so hard to survive?
Remmy understood how it felt. They almost felt bad for it. They, too, had been cornered by death. They could see the faces of the hunters that had tracked them down and let their dark eyes pierce through them, as if waiting to see if Remmy would simply keel over and die just from the look.
Remmy did not look at this creature like that. But it looked back at them with the same look Remmy had given the hunters. A fear, a fierceness. It would not go down without a fight.
This one, they had been told, had killed several young kids who were sneaking into an abandoned house one night.
This creature was bad. Remmy saw their eyes reflected in it.
It lunged. Remmy ducked too late.
---
“Remmy, Remmy, REMMY!” He was crying, his hands grabbing at their shirt. He couldn’t stop crying. He couldn’t find a heartbeat. He couldn’t stop the bleeding. His breaths choked, he sobbed. He knew he would die if he didn’t run.
“Remmy, c’mon,” he begged again. “Remmy, please. I can’t do this without you. Please, Remmy. Wake up. C’mon...wake up.”
Hands gripping them hard as he leaned over and accepted his fate, crying into their chest, blood staining his face. “Just wake up...”
---
Remmy came to, blinking through blinding lights. The creature was lying beside them, huffing with its own effort. Remmy slowly turned their head to look at it. Even as it scrambled to get back to its feet, teeth bared, eyes wild, it looked so vulnerable. Back arched, it leapt at them again.
Remmy rolled and it careened into the post behind them with a loud crack. It howled in anguish again, and Remmy turned to face it, fists raised. The ethics of what they were doing no longer mattered. They needed this.
One. Two. Three. Fists in the face and the creature reeled again, that ear splitting yowl ripping through the air. Even some of the audience had to hide from the noise. Remmy did not. They needed to hear this.
As they circled each other again, blood trailing behind the creature as it limped in its menacing way, Remmy’s eyes wandered the crowd. The announcer’s voice broke through their daze, but no words were heard. Only the shouts of the crowd as they cheered.
For Remmy.
It was Remmy’s turn to lunge, catching the creature off guard. They rolled, fought to tear the other off or apart, until finally the creatures back hit the ground and Remmy’s knees planted on its shoulders, pinning it. Fists pummeling into it, harder each time, bones bending and breaking under their knuckles. Cheering faded, voices faded, the creatures wretched screaming faded. They only heard ringing in their ears. The ring faded, their own fists faded, and, eventually, the world around them faded.
And out of the dark, they saw Darius’ face.
“NO!”
Remmy screamed. Suddenly, so suddenly, even the half-dead creature below them jumped. They scrambled away, feet tripping over one another, ankle catching ankle and tumbling them hard onto their back. A hand tore at the fence, fingers curling so hard into the metal it bent under their grip.
“No,” they repeated, voice hoarse. He was sitting up now. “No, no!” They turned, scraped bloody fingers along the ground in an effort to escape what was crawling their way. Launching themself up and at the door, chest heaving with a weight of breathlessness that shouldn’t have mattered to a monster that didn’t need to breath.
“I have to go, I have to get out of here, I need-- I have--” Hands fumbled in desperation to open the door they’d stepped through. Someone was coming towards them. “I need out. I have to-- I want to forfeit. I wanna go, I wanna go!”
The door swung open and Remmy’s body moved on its own to get out, to get away. But Jax, the referee for tonight, stopped them. His eyes, blue, so blue, looked down at them, a fist in their shirt, holding them in place.
“No,” he growled at them. Remmy froze. He hoisted them up-- he was, after all, a strong man, perhaps not even human, with his silver tongue and his gleaming eyes-- and grabbed their arm with one hand. Remmy’s entire body was still.
Another man approached. This one had dark eyes and pale skin. He pulled out something-- a bracelet?-- and snapped it around Remmy’s wrist. Prongs dug into their skin and for a moment, they felt nothing. Then, a pain raced up their arm and into their chest and Remmy cried out, trying to wrench away from the man.
Jax dropped them and they crumpled into a pile. He crouched so that he was almost eye level with them, still hovering above them as he spoke. “You can go when I say you can go.”
Remmy jaw clenched and they immediately stopped making a noise. They knew that tone. They knew that look.
“Good zombie,” he said, standing back up. He closed the door and locked it. “Now finish it.”
The pain instantly stopped and Remmy looked across the stage to the creature. It hadn’t moved the entire time, a low whine coming out with each breath. It was already dying. Perhaps killing it would just be a mercy at this point.
Remmy approached slowly, picking up a metal pipe that had been earlier chucked into the ring. The crowd was shouting at them, their voices so loud now. Kill it. Finish it. Tear it apart. Eat it. Kill it.
Kill it.
Fucking kill it, you monster.
The pole came down in a fury on the creature’s head.
Once. Lancer’s face as he fell over, shot through the head.
Twice. Andrews and Johnson’s faces, blown to bits.
Three times. Remmy’s own face, blank and dead.
It screeched. Sputtered. Stopped breathing. Dead.
Remmy dropped the pole, but didn’t move.
---
Remmy snapped back to reality when someone grabbed their arm.
It was Jax. He lifted the arm he’d put the cuff on and stared them deep in the eyes. “You’re a good fighter, you know,” he said nonchalantly, pulling them away from the mess that was now being scraped from the floor. “Your fights draw a big crowd, too.” They stepped out of the ring and he stopped them at the bottom of the stairs.
“It’d be a shame to lose someone like you.”
Remmy looked up at him, but did not speak.
“You understand what I mean, right? That?” he gestured to the ring with a tense motion. “That can’t happen again. Are we clear?”
Remmy nodded.
“I need you to say it.” His words were sharp, much like his tongue. Remmy swallowed. “I want you to swear it.”
Remmy opened their mouth. “I swear it.”
“Swear what?”
Words tasting sour in their mouth, Remmy answered, “I swear I won’t try and forfeit again.”
After that, Jax smiled. “Good kid,” he said, patting their arm where the cuff was, before pulling out an odd shaped object, sliding it into the hole on the cuff, and clicking it off.
“I’ll see you next week, then,” he went on, stepping aside. Remmy moved tentatively at first, before walking past. Moving faster the second they were past him.
Jax lifted his hands and hollered, “And don’t forget to pick up your winnings.”
