Oct 17, 2010 23:48
oc: beta,
dogs: campanella freuling,
event logs,
clover: su,
pop: elika,
pop: the prince,
blazblue: ragna the bloodedge,
oc: shun,
dogs: fuyumine magato,
hakuouki: hijikata toshizou,
dr who: the doctor,
dogs: fuyumine naoto,
vk: kiryuu zero,
khreborn!: rokudo mukuro,
naruto: uchiha itachi,
vk: kuran yuuki,
naruto: uchiha sasuke,
ffvii: cloud strife,
blazblue: hazama,
naruto: hoshigaki kisame,
ffvii: kadaj,
ffvii: tifa lockhart,
sod: eike kusch,
khreborn!: dino cavellone,
dogs: heine rammesteiner,
khreborn!: irie shouichi,
ffvii: elena
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may contain fusebox!!
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And standing there, driving the business end of his balisong up into a bellboy's sternum until his eyes got a little bit foggy and bloody sputtered wetly out of his silently moving mouth and Hazama couldn't keep his laughter down and back behind his lips any more, it wasn't actually killing the sorry little fuck that was doing so much for his mood. It was just everything surrounding it. The context of killing this dumb kid for kicks, kicking him off the knife and letting him smack to the cold floor, the thing that made it not just a random act of murder but a building process.
He was part of a string of deaths, it seemed, all killed by knife, all slaughtered with the same ferocity, spilling their guts all over the floor - but oh, how strange, how peculiar that all these bodies were being found at such different places, at such similar times. Fact was, he wasn't the sole killer. He wasn't even the one who started this in the first place, and nobody knew who was, nobody could point a finger and know for sure who it was. Except for him.
And it'd be nice if he could say he had any motive in helping Magato out with his bad habits, but really? He just wanted to see how long it took them all to figure out who was behind it. Of course, so far, it hadn't exactly been the most covert operation, and Magato had made it pretty goddamn obvious what he was getting up to when Hazama found him. Frankly, he was just kinda lucky that he was approached by someone with similar tastes and someone else who was an idiot. So Hazama had taken it into his own hands to come here and step the game up a little bit, because hell, if this was the only fun to be had, he was going to make sure it was the best game possible. Maybe they could give out prizes at the end, but that'd depend on if he could think of something more imaginative than, well. Killing the winners.
Considering all the stupid crap he'd gone through lately, it was a pretty cathartic feeling.
Sooo it was for that reason that he was down here at all, way deep down in the cold basement, far from most of the life in the hotel. He wiped the blade of his knife down with a napkin, closed it up and tucked it away without dabbing as much as a speck of blood anywhere on him, not a single shred of evidence connecting him to the quivering husk on the floor. Which he stepped over ever-so-elegantly, making his way to the old-fashioned fusebox.
Welp! He was no electrician, but how hard could it be to just kill the power, really? ]
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-- But he wasn't going to lie, it was nice to see someone had the right idea. No matter how trivial or irrational it was to murmur someone out of barbaric indulgence; everyone missed the point, it just felt good.
So - what was Magato going to do now? He wasn't Eike, he wasn't about to parade around in a dress all decked up in a whore's skin in hopes the killer was going to come to them. No, he was going to go to the killer himself. A hopeful comrade-in-arms. (Hah.) So with his languid movements, his grin that didn't waver with it's predatory smirk with a expression of all things expecting and deliriously anticipating, Magato slipped behind the door of the staff only sign and into the hallway, there within a elevator that was small enough to take a dump in and not much else.
Slide the fencing, press a button, and the more he descended, the more he smirked to himself.
Slide the fencing, step out, and who would have guessed that right before him was that green-haired, shit-grinning -- officer.
Somehow, his stay in the hotel was getting better and better by each little second that he spent here.
Taking his time to get noticed, Magato let his heavy footsteps make their way to Hazama; distant enough, but Magato was eager to remove the blade from his hoister and have a little fun game of light fondling. Hand to the belt along his waist, hoodie drawn up, grin shown as all teeth, ] -- I knew something smelled...
[ No blood, no nothing on Hazama - he looked perfect as far as Magato knew, letting his gaze go from the tip of the other's hat to the sole of their shoes with a look of increasing impressiveness. To put all that effort into not showing any evidence, that was a nice little touch and a lot of effort. Magato could never do that, not that he wanted too in the first place. His vision went from Hazama to the cadaver on the ground, and when he brought his vision back up, Magato noticed the other making their way to the fusebox. Not that he minded the dark.
-- But it would be nice to have a little one-on-one, wouldn't it? ] I just hope I'm not late for the fireworks, babe.
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Hazama stopped the moment he heard that voice ring out, and he looked over his shoulder slowly, already smiling, his feet grinding wetly on the cold concrete when he turned to face him. Looking a little different there, Magato, and Hazama was no idiot; he knew the tension of someone itching for a fight, for fun or otherwise, but that wasn't really what he'd call a problem; they had time, didn't they? Who the hell else was going to think to come down here?
Nah, this was more of an opportunity than anything. If he was being tested...
He raised his gloved hands, wiggled his fingers cheerfully, but there was something profoundly sharper in his expression this time - and maybe it was how clear his eyes were, open and bright and staring intently at Magato like a cat sighting a mouse. Really, even with the hood up, Magato got no points for subtlety - but scurrying around, putting his teeth-marks in everything, calling him 'babe' without a hint of sarcasm - it was all just a little bit too cute to ignore. ] Awwwwww, the jig's up already? - Well, darling, it looks like you caught me. I have no choice! I admit it: I'm the dreaded bellboy killer. Now the hotel can finally sleep peacefully, knowing brave Captain Magato has won the day!
... Oooor. [ He reached up, removing his hat and letting it drop next to his feet with practised ease. Just like before, showing respect in front of the corpse, but with one little difference: his other hand immediately came up, slicked his hair back in one smooth sweep. This time, his smile bared his teeth.
At his side, the balisong's bite handle pinwheeled, and the blade rotated and flashed into view, the latch clicking into place. ]
Am I the one who's supposed to arrest you?
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No one was going to come down, were they? Not a soul, or at least someone with a brain. The moment they did was the moment their guts would be pouring and innards cooling in the stiff, heavy air. But right now, with himself feeling as though Hazama was starting to jerk him off. ( -- Aah, no denying it; there was some excitement in this anticipation, and they were like two fucking peas in a pod.) But the feeling was mutural; Hazama’s predatory glare was returned in a mutual aspect.
-- It was a dog-eat-dog world out there.
Eyes narrowed with a perverse instinct and lips bared all-teeth; low laugh finishing Hazama’s words, and Magato was none other than absolutely charmed by the gestured and mocking words that were half-insulting and half-flattering. ] -- Captain? Referring to me like that, officer...makes me feel warm and fuzzy on the inside. Just the way I like it. [ Voice low, teeth clasped together, and it was almost wistful how he spoke as he reminisced the poor thing of a bellboy. Vision directed to the name tag, and a low bark of laughter emerged in a form of a low exhaled hiss ] Randy -- ? With a name like that, you did him a favor.
[ And -- oh? What was that? A butterfly knife. (Even serial killers could bring out their feminine side -- ) Magato had furrowed his brow, almost looking unimpressed by the child’s toy. Then again, what’s the point in a performance if nothing looks good? ] Ending our date so soon? [ Not that the acidy quality in his voice went amiss as he slipped the combat knife from it’s own hoister. ]
Cute. [ Directing the comment to the way Hazama seemed to be playing with himself. And it was the last thing he said before dashing towards Hazama; his own blade flickering horizontally as he positioned it, and the dull crack of rib bones emitted as the ex-bellboy’s lungs were turned into mush by a heavy stomp. ]
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The sickening brittle crunch of exposed bone forced half-dry spittle and blood out of the bellboy's gaping mouth, projected across Hazama's shoes, but there was no time to pout about the dry cleaning with that large, sharp knife swiping out to feel through his body, to push through his guts if he gave it the chance. Magato was one speedy, frisky little bitch, wasn't he. But no victory was that easy.
The spinning butterfly knife clipped it easily, threw it off; the sound of the clashing metal shot straight through him, and Hazama's low laugh was almost comical, bleeding out of him as uncontrollably as an open wound. ] Nice try! [ The same movement and he brought out a second balisong in his other hand, and spinning them together, swiped them down and up across Magato's body, close enough to vivisect him if he didn't move his ass.
For a girly-twirly knife, he used it with lethal precision - but Magato was no slouch either, was he? For a garden-variety human thug, at least! Not that it'd stop Hazama fucking him with it in the end, under normal circumstances... but winning wasn't actually in his repertoire, this time. He wasn't at any risk from this guy, he knew, and if Magato was aware of his abilities right from the start, well, shit. Where was the fun in that?
It was a lot more fun when he got the jump. ]
What a cute knife, ~Captain~! Army surplus, or toy shop?
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The slick sound of bones cracking and an empty wheezing sound emerging went completely unnoticed as he lunged himself towards Hazama. To say that his movements were clumsy was bullshit - but he didn’t lack any sort of impulsive cruelty either, so when he twisted his blade to slice through Hazama’s guts (The contact was, unfortunately broken off and deflected by the other’s knives -- ) Magato was planning for a full evisceration.
Lips slipped into a further grin as his own blade clipped; carnivorous teeth and all showing with enough indication that he couldn’t wait to sink them into Hazama’s neck and rip out his throat. Their proximity close enough to do so, and Magato only watched with a barking laughter as Hazama revealed another balisong, ] A natural performer! [ When they were this close, it was expected for Magato to receive some of the damage, it was almost intentional how he allowed the blades to swipe along his visage, grazing the flesh of his cheek with a cut deep enough to let it bleed.
But Hazama wasn’t about to go without praise either, or without being fucked himself. Because the moment the instruments that twirled within Hazama’s hands had reeled back, Magato coiled his free hand into fist, grappling at Hazama’s hair; proximity almost non-existent as he shoved Hazama against the wall, his own blade underneath Hazama’s throat with a pressure that was threatening to dismember.
-- And that was when he leaned in. ] You’re going to make me blush, officer.
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And it was tit for tat at this point, given that that slow, lazy crawl of blood down Magato's face was there because Magato wanted it to be, and the whole thing was so phony at this point that Hazama had to try really, really hard to look surprised about being pinned. But his knives were there anyway, something so instinctive and natural that, well, there was no helping it: one at Magato's stomach, barely keeping the scant distance between their bodies, and the other right below his left eye, that dark black ball boring into him, ready to gouge it out at a moment's notice.
He could feel the knife at his own throat, fair again, and jerked his head up, never quite far enough to stop it pricking the skin. But his eyes stayed fixed on Magato's, and that false rapid breathing of his slowly evened. ]
Going that far's a little bit harsh. Us Intelligence Officers are noncombatants by nature. [ He relaxed his head back against the wall, a lazy grin spreading across his face, regardless. Fake fakey fake, and Magato already knew it, didn't he. Despite his best efforts. ]
... No need to stand on ceremony when I'm nailed to wall, by the way. Although, it sounds like you're having fun with that whole officer thing.
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There was something displeasing to the knife that was held at his stomach it almost felt like a fucking heartbreak -- and he only cocked his head with the cut along his face that felt like a kiss as he murmured with lewd mock-disappointment, ] Are you breaking up with me already…? [ The small textures of steel that grazed underneath his eye as he tilted his head only made him twitch in the slightest as he continued. ] I have a bit of a kink with the authorities, it’s nothing personal.
[ On the contrary, it was every little bit personal, but how could Hazama notice that? It was, as a matter of fact, obvious enough; how Magato leered at him, eyes gazing along him in a lewd anticipated manner, and a low snort to follow.
As much as the knife that had its tip dig slowly into the fabric of Magato’s vest, it didn’t help much with separating their proximities. And with his leg firmly placed in between Hazama’s and nudging them aside with the joint of his knee, Magato quickly reeled back from the blades that were threatening to turn him into mince and jerked said knee upwards while driving Hazama’s skull downwards.
-- But now, this was nothing but a little rough-house. ]
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But nothing's just pulling moves with Magato, is it. So Hazama can see that coming long before it arrives, that cheap, shitty, slutty little move of his, and he worms out of it easily - swipes one arm up to cockblock Magato's hold on his hair, the other braces his knee away from his face, and he slips past him; he pushes him into the momentum of his own movement, and he's behind Magato in a second, a hand fisting in fall of black tangled hair and dried blood (his butterfly knife already shut, tucked away inside his coat, the other pointing up into Magato's spine) and shoving him up hard against the wall where Hazama had just been.
Tricky guy. It's more than he wanted to show him, already, but hey. There are some indignities he's not gonna hold up to for anyone, no matter how cute they are. ]
Ooooh, aren't you a mean little puppy when you get excited. But you're gonna have to try a heeeell of a lot harder if you want to reach third base with me, Captain... [ He drives the blade up against Magato's skin, pricks through that little gay nightclub jacket of his. ]
Seriously, though - for future reference? Telling a guy you like him and then trying to mess up his face is sending mixed signals.
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-- Well. He was completely wrong.
Even with the cloth coiling around his ribs that was slowly being sliced through ( -- As painfully slow as it was, it only pushed Magato’s anticipation even further as the leather slipped from his frame. To say that Magato was fashion conscious was a lie, and his grin was only half-apathetic and careless as the material fell to the ground. ) none of that stopped Magato from letting out another laugh that sounded hollow and acidy as soon as it left his tongue. ] A little strip huh? -- I’m suddenly feeling violated! [ Another obvious lie, but they both knew that. ] I was hoping for a full home run.
[ Within a split second, Magato had coiled his hand around the wrist that was having a affair with his hair and twisted it - in turn using the momentum to turn himself to face Hazama. The knife now pointed at his chest was soon enough horizontally at his back, ] You could always look better.
[ It seemed all too quick, how Magato managed to manipulate Hazama’s joints. The other’s back now facing him, and with a few swift kicks to the back of Hazama’s knees Magato forced Hazama face-down on the ground, straddling his thighs, and combat knife out -- free hand pinning him down and the tip of the sharp instrument working it’s way at Hazama’s jacket as he leaned in. ] Let's see how you like it.
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Hey hey hey, enough of that -
[ He jerked back suddenly, caught the side of Magato's temple with his elbow and, groping around for something to grab onto and only finding Magato's dark hair again (oh, yeah - he stripped him, didn't he? His mistake -), he followed the movement through until he'd flipped them over in a clumsy flurry of limbs and bare skin. He sat back on Magato's hips, eye-to-eye with him and breathing a little harsh, and they were in the puddle of blood the bellboy left behind, but hell. There was no hiding the signs of a scuffle that now lay in the sharp shredded lines of his jacket. What difference was a big red patch on his leg going to make, now?
For a good second or two, he looked agitated. And he was, a little bit, because it was fine to mess around and all, but he really didn't want to be forced to show Magato more than just some knife-tricks. The guy just didn't know how to stay down at all.
... But it was still fine, right. So Hazama relaxed, smiled, ran the fingers of his free hand back through his slicked hair. Because who cares, really, what Magato did? He just needed him to stay alive and interesting, give him something to do until this shitpile disintegrated, like it inevitably would. Just like the last. ]
... You put on a pretty good show, "Mister" Magato! And here I thought you were gonna be some useless wayward thug but, hahaha. At least you're a step up from that.
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A sharp grunt, a low croaking laugh, and Magato held the side of his head. And here he was thinking play time was over.
With Hazama reversing the roles, (Not that Magato minded, everyone deserved their fifteen minutes of fame.) Magato let out a low long-drawled out exhale mingled with a laugh. The blood below him still feeling lukewarm against his skin, and he almost relished against the cooling warmth. ] Trying to get a one-up on me, babe? [ But that didn’t matter, not much anyway.
Hair dyed a darker shade of black against the blood and plastered to his back, and he sat up; one arm reaching behind Hazama and he shoved a fist in that newly-slicked back hair, yanking Hazama’s head to crane upwards and his blade slashed upwards. He missed his chance before, didn’t he? It would have been cruel if Hazama continued to deprive him...
A thin line of blood started to emerge along Hazama’s abdomen -- the hem to the collar of Hazama’s suit completely divided and he leaned in to whisper against the hot flesh of Hazama’s throat -- close enough that he could almost hear the pulsing of veins as hips were set to grind. ]
You didn’t think I was finished, did you -- ?
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Geez, this guy was a lot of trouble...
Hazama jolted just a little bit when Magato's body moved beneath him, very purposefully pressing up with his hips against Hazama's, and it was disgusting and hilarious at once, and he didn't know whether to grimace or just fucking laugh in his face about it. In the end, though, he just grinned, let a little, low laugh work out past his sharp teeth and the tongue pressing up behind them, and he put his butterfly knife back in his damaged coat, pressed his free hands down on Magato's throat, back into his sticky clot-knotted hair (pretty easy to twist his neck like that, if this got to be too much of a pain -) and met his rhythm.
Well, hey. His body was still a body, artificial or not. ]
What's this, now? Hahahahah, shit, am I getting my leg humped?! [ Magato was close, right down near his throat (and he guessed that that was the point, right: he could break his neck, but Magato could rip his throat out like the little savage stray he is, tit for tat) and Hazama inclined his head, his voice rough against the man's ear. ] Just give up before I kill you, already. You were so much more fun when you were pinned to a wall!
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Combar knife withdrawn, slipped back into it’s hoister without a second though, mouth almost pressed against the flesh that throbbed with veins underneath a thin layer of skin - and it was only a light graze of teeth against flesh. ]
Can you blame me -- ? A pretty thing like you in a place like this, all alone? You were basically begging for it... [ The back of his skull meeting the bloodied floor once again, hand coiled around his neck with the indication of threatening to crush bones and esophagus -- but there was not a single waver in his expression that displayed displeasure, if anything, it was the low grunt that indicated the complete opposite. His own hands coated in blood, and Magato was shameless in the way he gripped at one of Hazama’s hips, letting his own press against Hazama’s as he hoisted the other’s down.
With the heat that settled between their bodies, and the hand that was slowly crushing his throat, Magato only let out a feral vulgar laugh at Hazama’s face. ] -- I’m more bite than bark, babe. I’ll make sure you enjoy this just as much as I will.
[ And he was willing to prove that with nails that dug into the flesh of Hazama’s waist and teeth grazing his neck, free hand coated in blood underneath Hazama’s jaw as his teeth pierced the flesh of the other’s neck and nails raking down skin until peelings of flesh dug underneath them. ]
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But goddamn, once he was done having fun here, he was going to kick this kid's teeth right down his oesophagus. ]
... Hahahah! Are you delusional, or did I just catch you at a desperate, lonely time in your life? [ His hot breath hissed out through bared teeth, half-anger and half-excitement, and the feeling of Magato's nails was just a white sharp sensation that reddened slowly, grew painful with an unusual slowness, filtering in through a haze of adrenaline, blood, euphoria, lust, anger. There went the nice paintjob, but no big deal, right. He wasn't really the bruising type.
He tightened his grip on Magato, damn near throttling him by the squeeze he put on his neck - but it sure as shit gave him an amazing grip to grind their hips right down together, rocking against him with a quick, crude, uneven rhythm. He could smell blood from Magato's hair and his fingers smearing across his nice suit pants, and when Hazama put his free hand down past Magato's head and felt the wetness there on the stone, he knew it wasn't from the damp, and he could see the bellboy's white eyes, all rolled up, half-watching the show through his empty pupils.
The blood dragged from Hazama's hand down over Magato's white chest, smeared a big long handprint in its wake, sticky and clotting and half-dry already, spread like cheap uneven paint over muscles and bones. It smelt rank, the whole place smelt fucking rank and Hazama's nose bumped on Magato's, his teeth snagging on his bottom lip just long enough to rip a little skin away, blood beading out in thick, heavy drops, and it stank even more, but it really wasn't enough. Just some stupid, pissy little game, because Magato was fun, but he didn't hate him, he didn't resent this, and Hazama kind of wanted him to. ]
... If only you were as good at this as you are at talking...
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