Gabriel went back to work the morning after Ransom shot him, like nothing had ever happened. The rumors about his brush with death had spread fast, but Gabriel shrugged all of them off with a bright smile. He kept saying that the accounts of that night were so overdramatic that his superhuman physiology had allowed him to absorb the hits like they were nothing, that he was better than he had ever felt. Except, no amount of charm was enough to convince Gabriel of his own lies. During those three nights, he had barely slept a wink, and as soon as he did, the ghost of those memories came back to haunt him, jerking him awake and forcing him to scan his surroundings repeatedly, just to make sure he was safe. He had lost count of the times he had nearly blasted off an innocent villager out of sheer panic when he saw them make a sudden movement in his proximity. He was almost on the verge of begging Lucien to give him a security escort, but his pride was thankfully there to stop him: he could not and would not show any sign of weakness, even in spite of what happened. In hindsight, the pain hadn’t even been the worst part of the experience; that record definitely belonged to the sense of helplessness he had felt when Ransom had used his demonic nature against him, stripping him of the dark magic that he was so proud of and that he had worked so hard for. Ransom had violated him in a way that Gabriel had never thought possible—perhaps even more than his father ever had, with all of his manipulations and lies—and his heightened emotions were ravaging his mind like a swarm of locusts. As a psychiatrist, he knew exactly what this was: PTSD. The problem was that his science had little to offer for his problem, except medication that wouldn’t work on him and years of therapy. Gabriel refused to spend years wallowing in his trauma; he wanted to be better in that precise moment. He had made a long-term plan to make that happen: he would continue his research under Lucien’s supervision more tirelessly than ever before, until the power he craved would be his own and no one would ever be able to hurt him again. In the short term, though? He would exorcise his fear by slaying his dragon. Maybe, by taking out his trauma on Ransom, his psyche would suddenly be healed. Highly unlikely, but worth a shot.
Which is why, that morning, he had walked inside the castle with a mission, a neatly stacked pile of paperwork in his hand and an inquantifiable amount of rage in his heart. He had had a long chat with Raphael the night before, during which he explained to him what he intended to do point by point, writing down a contract as he went. When he got his father's approval, he gave the councilman an almost too wide grin, slashing his index finger with his own claw and signing his name in blood at the bottom. He was not a demon without honor, so he would follow the document to the letter. He was going to have so much fun.
“Ransy! It’s so great to see you; you look terrible.” He chuckled as the dragon was escorted by a guard inside the playroom he had rented for the whole day, alongside the former Chief of Police. He had made sure to have him brought to him by five in the morning, hoping that sleep deprivation would make him even more fun to play with. “So tell me, how’s the Undercroft treating you, Chief?” He mocked, raising his chin to reveal his uncollared neck. He had managed to get the rules bent just a little bit so that Ransom could feel what it meant to be powerless against a demon.
The room they were in was in slight disarray, all of its usual décor pushed to the eastern wall to make space for Gabriel’s temporary new additions: a hospital bed with restraining straps, a couple of chairs and a simple wooden desk, not too different from the one he had seen in Ransom’s office. Except this time, Gabriel was the one in the seat of power; hidden behind him, there were several bags full of equipment he would use on his new pal. He was never going to have the chance to use all of the toys he brought, but he liked to be prepared. “Please sit. Do you know why I had you come here on this lovely morning?” He mused, arching an eyebrow and crossing his arms on his chest. Karma was a bitch, but Gabriel Gaudet-De Luca was going to be so much worse than that.
