Lonely; Hurt/Comfort Bingo
Title: Lonely
Prompt: Forced to Hurt Somebody
Medium: Fic
Rating: PG
Warnings: Fail hurt/comfort, inaccuracies, minor character death (unnamed person).
Summary: Red was forced into the business. His partner was none other than the one he disliked...
Notes: Based on the song "Dancer in the Dark" by Luka Megurine.
He held his partner back, warning him of the danger that he would undoubtedly face. Not only would it be disastrous if they were found, it would make explaining it to their boss a living hell. He hated his boss-everyone did-but he was the one with the most power, the one who was the most feared (and for good reason.)
"We have to go," Red muttered, pulling Pit away from their enemies, wondering if the kid was actually ready to murder someone.
Wide-eyed, the other followed him, unsure about the whole assassination business. Red was almost certain that Pit only joined because he thought it'd be fun (just like the movies.)
"Calm down. We're only going to get that one guy, then disappear for the rest of the week." He was trying his best to reassure the frightened boy, but he couldn't really empathize as he had always been in this business, been raised to be a top-notch assassin that would make his parents proud (though he wasn't sure that he wanted to do that as his parents had abandoned him long ago.)
"W-who was it, again?" Pit asked him in such a soft voice that he (the "heartless" Red) couldn't help but to pity him.
"It was a nobody, no one famous enough to warrant too much attention." While Red had assassinated head (political) figures, his partner was new, and they both knew that those new to the business would get caught if they aimed for someone powerful, someone famous.
"I… I see." The stuttering, the pauses, annoyed him to no end, but he decided to not mention that (in case he frightened Pit.
I keep on fighting against God in such a dirty, cruel place.
My left arm has been blown off, and my wings have been teared off.
I keep on fighting against God in such a dirty, cruel place.
My right arm is full of scars, and I've devoted everything.
Sometimes, he baffled him, the need to attempt to survive in this world. He was curious as to why humans in general would fight for life when there was nothing left for them. Their desire to survive… It was baffling indeed.
Red wondered about all that he had lost (not that he lost much, as he hadn't had much to lose in the first place.) He was curious as to whether or not those things should make him crave death, but he found that he didn't care for friends, for family, for some personal touches. That didn't mean that he wasn't completely intrigued by the idea of "lovers", though it would always be a mystery to him.
The concept of love, of hate, was also confusing, as he had no need for these emotions. He allowed himself minor emotions (like pity) in hopes of befriending someone worthwhile. If not for that, he wouldn't allow himself to feel anything at all.
Love, hate-the two most passionate emotions, they were contradicting. One required a gentleness Red could not show (as he was never shown gentleness), and the other meant that they had to care about the other (something else Red didn't understand) to show great dislike.
To him, it wasn't worth the energy to actually worry more about something than superficially. The stress, the nightmares, all seemed too much for one person (but then again, normal people are weird, alien, to him.)
If he had to say he "loved" something, it would be this job-the killing sprees, the ability to control a person (in certain situations) and the blood spilt for his sake. There was nothing like the adrenaline pumping through him as he murdered a figurehead, someone deceiving people. Not that he, Red, would ever admit it.
Why am I here? In this dark, stagnant world
The pain from these ridiculous scars never stops tormenting me for a single moment
My feelings carve into me a sense of loss and are slowly going numb
I keep counting just how much I have to offer and repeat that question, again and again
However, now wasn't the time for such distracting thoughts. Immediately, Red picked himself up, offering a hand to his partner, hoping that the other would stop being so timid. If not that, it would at least satisfy the part of him that said the other would bolt-he wouldn't have the strength to escape Red's grip.
"We should keep going," Red said, glancing at the other, who had a cold, calculating gaze.
'Never thought he, of all people, could do that. I've rarely met someone not used to this work that could change their demeanor at will,' Red thought, trying hard to remain indifferent towards the attitude change.
"Okay," Pit replied in a monotone, focusing on their target.
"I assume you can do this," Red said.
"Of course." Watching the other, Red saw a bullet fly, going for the other's head. In that instant, when it entered and exited the target's head, he was amazed. He had no clue that such a shy, timid boy would be merciless.
I keep on fighting against God in such a dirty, cruel place.
My left arm has been blown off, and my wings have been teared off.
I keep on fighting against God in such a dirty, cruel place.
My right arm is full of scars, and I've devoted everything.
"You seem to be fighting against the world," Pit commented randomly. "I don't understand you. You seem too sophisticated for the underworld, yet you still work under him." Anyone who wanted to survive in this business knew that they should never refer to their boss by their name.
"You are also more than you appear to be, partner. You were shaking, looking as if you would cry but when the time came to kill our target, you were cool, calm, collected. You just changed faces. If I'm not mistaken, you have done something like this before."
"Why, you are partially correct. I have done assassin-like work before, but this is the first time I'm being paid for it. To be honest, that was only my third time killing someone," Pit replied, absently cleaning the muzzle of his gun.
"Only third? Then you are not used to our world yet, are you? That would explain why the boss partnered you up with me, Pit."
"Out of curiosity, why are you doing this? If you share your reason, I'll share mine," Pit said, sounding much more confident than before.
"Why? Why does everyone fight for survival? Why do I fight to survive when my soul's been torn apart by many sins? When I find the answers to these questions, I'll be able to answer yours."
"My reason to fight… Well, it's either that or die. When you have to deal with the fact that there is something known as 'survival instinct', you tend to want to live as long as possible."
Why am I fighting? In this fragile, rickety world
The itch from these unpleasant scars never stops tormenting me for a single moment
My emotions allow me the right to abandon and are slowly dying inside
I keep counting just how much I have destroyed and repeat that question, again and again
"Thank you for that Pit. Maybe one day I'll know why I fight against the world, why I seem so interested in defying a maybe existing 'god'." Red chuckled. "You know, you're the first one I've actually opened up to, considering many things."
Pit also smiled, amused by that admittance. "I understand. You're the first one I actually cared enough about to talk to. Everyone else who's met me either assumes I'm retarded or I have a superiority complex."
"Next-oh, this is interesting. I remember this guy from my class." Red grinned, showing the profile of their next victim. "Marth Lowell, our class president. The guy was charismatic enough to get a high, political title. I might actually feel a little remorse," Red commented.
"Well, we continue to defy humanity," Pit remarked. "However, maybe we can become more human over time."
I keep on fighting against God in such a dirty, cruel place.
My left arm has been blown off, and my wings have been teared off.
I keep on fighting against God in such a dirty, cruel place.
My right arm is full of scars, and I've devoted everything.
Prompt: Forced to Hurt Somebody
Medium: Fic
Rating: PG
Warnings: Fail hurt/comfort, inaccuracies, minor character death (unnamed person).
Summary: Red was forced into the business. His partner was none other than the one he disliked...
Notes: Based on the song "Dancer in the Dark" by Luka Megurine.
He held his partner back, warning him of the danger that he would undoubtedly face. Not only would it be disastrous if they were found, it would make explaining it to their boss a living hell. He hated his boss-everyone did-but he was the one with the most power, the one who was the most feared (and for good reason.)
"We have to go," Red muttered, pulling Pit away from their enemies, wondering if the kid was actually ready to murder someone.
Wide-eyed, the other followed him, unsure about the whole assassination business. Red was almost certain that Pit only joined because he thought it'd be fun (just like the movies.)
"Calm down. We're only going to get that one guy, then disappear for the rest of the week." He was trying his best to reassure the frightened boy, but he couldn't really empathize as he had always been in this business, been raised to be a top-notch assassin that would make his parents proud (though he wasn't sure that he wanted to do that as his parents had abandoned him long ago.)
"W-who was it, again?" Pit asked him in such a soft voice that he (the "heartless" Red) couldn't help but to pity him.
"It was a nobody, no one famous enough to warrant too much attention." While Red had assassinated head (political) figures, his partner was new, and they both knew that those new to the business would get caught if they aimed for someone powerful, someone famous.
"I… I see." The stuttering, the pauses, annoyed him to no end, but he decided to not mention that (in case he frightened Pit.
I keep on fighting against God in such a dirty, cruel place.
My left arm has been blown off, and my wings have been teared off.
I keep on fighting against God in such a dirty, cruel place.
My right arm is full of scars, and I've devoted everything.
Sometimes, he baffled him, the need to attempt to survive in this world. He was curious as to why humans in general would fight for life when there was nothing left for them. Their desire to survive… It was baffling indeed.
Red wondered about all that he had lost (not that he lost much, as he hadn't had much to lose in the first place.) He was curious as to whether or not those things should make him crave death, but he found that he didn't care for friends, for family, for some personal touches. That didn't mean that he wasn't completely intrigued by the idea of "lovers", though it would always be a mystery to him.
The concept of love, of hate, was also confusing, as he had no need for these emotions. He allowed himself minor emotions (like pity) in hopes of befriending someone worthwhile. If not for that, he wouldn't allow himself to feel anything at all.
Love, hate-the two most passionate emotions, they were contradicting. One required a gentleness Red could not show (as he was never shown gentleness), and the other meant that they had to care about the other (something else Red didn't understand) to show great dislike.
To him, it wasn't worth the energy to actually worry more about something than superficially. The stress, the nightmares, all seemed too much for one person (but then again, normal people are weird, alien, to him.)
If he had to say he "loved" something, it would be this job-the killing sprees, the ability to control a person (in certain situations) and the blood spilt for his sake. There was nothing like the adrenaline pumping through him as he murdered a figurehead, someone deceiving people. Not that he, Red, would ever admit it.
Why am I here? In this dark, stagnant world
The pain from these ridiculous scars never stops tormenting me for a single moment
My feelings carve into me a sense of loss and are slowly going numb
I keep counting just how much I have to offer and repeat that question, again and again
However, now wasn't the time for such distracting thoughts. Immediately, Red picked himself up, offering a hand to his partner, hoping that the other would stop being so timid. If not that, it would at least satisfy the part of him that said the other would bolt-he wouldn't have the strength to escape Red's grip.
"We should keep going," Red said, glancing at the other, who had a cold, calculating gaze.
'Never thought he, of all people, could do that. I've rarely met someone not used to this work that could change their demeanor at will,' Red thought, trying hard to remain indifferent towards the attitude change.
"Okay," Pit replied in a monotone, focusing on their target.
"I assume you can do this," Red said.
"Of course." Watching the other, Red saw a bullet fly, going for the other's head. In that instant, when it entered and exited the target's head, he was amazed. He had no clue that such a shy, timid boy would be merciless.
I keep on fighting against God in such a dirty, cruel place.
My left arm has been blown off, and my wings have been teared off.
I keep on fighting against God in such a dirty, cruel place.
My right arm is full of scars, and I've devoted everything.
"You seem to be fighting against the world," Pit commented randomly. "I don't understand you. You seem too sophisticated for the underworld, yet you still work under him." Anyone who wanted to survive in this business knew that they should never refer to their boss by their name.
"You are also more than you appear to be, partner. You were shaking, looking as if you would cry but when the time came to kill our target, you were cool, calm, collected. You just changed faces. If I'm not mistaken, you have done something like this before."
"Why, you are partially correct. I have done assassin-like work before, but this is the first time I'm being paid for it. To be honest, that was only my third time killing someone," Pit replied, absently cleaning the muzzle of his gun.
"Only third? Then you are not used to our world yet, are you? That would explain why the boss partnered you up with me, Pit."
"Out of curiosity, why are you doing this? If you share your reason, I'll share mine," Pit said, sounding much more confident than before.
"Why? Why does everyone fight for survival? Why do I fight to survive when my soul's been torn apart by many sins? When I find the answers to these questions, I'll be able to answer yours."
"My reason to fight… Well, it's either that or die. When you have to deal with the fact that there is something known as 'survival instinct', you tend to want to live as long as possible."
Why am I fighting? In this fragile, rickety world
The itch from these unpleasant scars never stops tormenting me for a single moment
My emotions allow me the right to abandon and are slowly dying inside
I keep counting just how much I have destroyed and repeat that question, again and again
"Thank you for that Pit. Maybe one day I'll know why I fight against the world, why I seem so interested in defying a maybe existing 'god'." Red chuckled. "You know, you're the first one I've actually opened up to, considering many things."
Pit also smiled, amused by that admittance. "I understand. You're the first one I actually cared enough about to talk to. Everyone else who's met me either assumes I'm retarded or I have a superiority complex."
"Next-oh, this is interesting. I remember this guy from my class." Red grinned, showing the profile of their next victim. "Marth Lowell, our class president. The guy was charismatic enough to get a high, political title. I might actually feel a little remorse," Red commented.
"Well, we continue to defy humanity," Pit remarked. "However, maybe we can become more human over time."
I keep on fighting against God in such a dirty, cruel place.
My left arm has been blown off, and my wings have been teared off.
I keep on fighting against God in such a dirty, cruel place.
My right arm is full of scars, and I've devoted everything.