IIII did a thing and I wrote a fanfic for a fandom that's very small and Probably nearly dead but have it anyway I guess?
Anyway uh some general info:
Contains: Beginning of mormor, bribing/blackmail (a teeny bit), suggested death, uhh mentions of wounds (surface level) and beatings.
Est. reading time: 4-5 mins
Prompt/idea: our beloved Sebastian got into trouble after his dishonourable discharge and someone appears to offer him a deal :D
Pairing: Mormor (but not explicit yet whoops-)
"Come on, Moran," the eerie voice sounded through the hollow room. "On a scale from 1 to 10, how would you rate your pain?"
The source of the voice towered over the figure that was laying on the floor, covered in cuts and bruises. When no reply came from Sebastian, the person decided to apply some force, kicking Sebastian in his back.
To their great displeasure, this elicited little more than a groan from Sebastian. Truth to be told, Sebastian really just didn't know what to answer. Sure, some of his bones were probably broken, he was covered in bruises and he had cuts all over himself, but things had been so much worse when… Well, back then. Sure, the physical ache was the worst he'd ever experienced, but it in no way compared to the trauma.
"7," he eventually spat back through gritted teeth. He would comply only if that would mean the pain would fucking stop.
"Shame. Let's see if we can push that to a 10, no? I want to hear you scream and beg."
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Sebastian groaned and dragged himself off the floor as the sound of footsteps spread through the hallway. They were different, though. Lighter. As if they carried a prestigious status with them.
Dangerously curiously he approached the bars that kept him in this prison, hanging against them with his lower. Might even get a cigarette out of that chap. God how he was craving for one after all these weeks.
"Hey you there," he called out to the figure, his voice harsh from the recent beatings. "Don't got a cig for a poor inmate, do ya?"
To his great delight the figure actually stopped walking, daring even to step closer to the bars. Sebastian grinned at the man, who was dressed in a blood red suit. There was no denying it, this was a fine male specimen. Might even be convinced to visit Sebastian and join him for a wonderful night.
"A poor inmate, huh?", the voice spoke, so soft and yet so threatening. "Surely they put you here for good reason. By the looks of you, they even think locking you up isn't enough~"
"Nah, I get off on that, Shorty," Sebastian joked, winking at the guy. Hey, you miss all the shots you don't shoot, right? "So how about that cig?"
The man in front of him seemed unfazed and cold to his flirting, which admittedly was largely disappointing. Luckily he did pull out a cigarette from his sleeve, sticking it through the bars that separated them. He was careful, keeping his fingers away, as if Sebastian would bite them off. Who knew, maybe Sebastian might even.
Instead, Sebastian leaned down gently taking the cigarette between his lips and looking the man in front of him sensually into the cold, dead eyes staring back at him.
"Don't suppose you have a light, too?"
As the man lit the cigarette that Sebastian refused to take out of his mouth, Sebastian eyed the man. Definitely not from around here.
"You're not from here, Shorty, are you?" He asked, inhaling the smoke and enjoying every second of the familiar feeling, before leaning back against the wall, taking the cigarette between his fingers and slowly blowing the smoke away from him.
When it remained silent, Sebastian opened his mouth to continue taking. It was not necessary, however, as the man spoke up.
"Call me short one more time, and I'll show you what it's like to be short," he hissed. "I'm not from around here, no. Just visiting."
"Visiting who?", Sebastian couldn't help but ask. Curiosity killed the cat, right? That was definitely gonna be the end of him someday.
"You. Colonel Sebastian Moran. Open the door, boys~"
Before Sebastian could really even react two guys stepped forward and opened the door to his cell. Within a few seconds he was then pinned against the wall. In a reflex he flipped the script, pinning the small man against the wall instead, his bottom arm pressing down on his throat.
Sebastian was forced to let go, however, when he felt the familiar sensation of the tip of a knife against one of the open cuts, a real threat that his life could be ended right there. He stepped back and brought up his guard, ready to defend himself if needed.
"How'd you get that in?", he asked, having too much adrenaline to even realise this stranger had known his name just like that. It's not like the papers had reported on his mishap.
The man in front of him grinned dangerously, stepping more into the flickering light of his cell. It was this moment that Sebastian saw, and realised that he was not dealing with an ordinary man, but with someone who was batshit crazy.
"I think you have misunderstood the power Dynamic here, big boy~. You're gonna have to listen what I'm saying, and listen closely, for I am the only one who can save your pathetic life. You know you're on death row, no~?"
Sebastian nodded. Of course he knew his own verdict. Not like it bothered him, though. He knew how these things went and he'd have years left to escape from this prison.
"Good, good~ I've been so free to save you some suffering. You're due tomorrow. You best start thinking about your last words~. Unless…"
Sebastian felt his heart sink into his stomach. He knew he wasn't exactly happy, but he definitely wasn't ready to end things yet. Fuck. More than anything, things felt very real now.
"Unless," the man repeated, "You take my job offer."
Sebastian scoffed and rolled his eyes, which proved to be a terrible choice. Once again he was slammed into the wall by the shorter figure. This time, however, the knife landed on his throat and Sebastian could tell from the pressure that the guy was serious.
"I don't need no 'redeeming work'. Fuck, I'd rather die."
The figure laughed a sinister laugh. "Redeeming work? Who do I look like? The pope? I'm so flattered~"
The figure pressed him a little harder against the wall and lifted his chin with the flat of the knife. "I do the devil's job."
Sebastian felt his blood rushing and internally cursed himself for reacting the way he did, carefully eyeing the knife. "Do elaborate."
"My name is Jim Moriarty. And I am the world's first and only Consulting Criminal. People tell me what they want, their deepest desire… And I see it fulfilled with a little flair. For a payment, naturally."
Sebastian eyed the figure up and down. The man seemed delusional. But, he was holding a knife to his throat, so Sebastian had to play along.
"How do you even want me to help with that?"
"I heard you're an excellent shot. And I'm in need of one."