New York City, New York | Thursday | February 17
In the immediate aftermath of everything, Hannibal felt...regret.
Regret that he hadn't killed more people, regret that he hadn't taken full advantage of his better body and his immortal talents. Regret that he hadn't ripped Danica's throat out after one of her snitty shit fits about his skills. Regret that he hadn't...done more.
The regret was the last thing on his mind when he lost consciousness. Hannibal was pretty sure it was the last time he'd see the world. And all he could feel was regret.
__
"That arrow in your gut's not gonna go away until you do," Abigail said, standing far enough away from him that Hannibal knew she feared him even if she pretended not to.
"Fine, so let me the fuck go," he snarled, pulling against the chains that she and her little pack of friends had bound around him. "I won't bother you, I swear. This town is big enough for the both of us, Abigail."
She shook her head. Her bow was lax at her side. Hannibal wondered what it would take to get her to drop that so he could sink his teeth into her throat and drink all that warm, supple blood. He licked his lips just thinking about it.
"Can't do that, King," she said, shaking her head. "Sorry. You see, I let you go, you go on killing people and I'm done letting you do that."
"You're done?" Hannibal asked incredulously, shifting to ease some pain of that arrow in his gut. "Really? That's cute coming from you. The girl with the secret society of fighters that I never knew about is done watching me kill people. Tell me, how are you gonna stop me?"
Abigail stepped closer to him and leaned in until she was right in his face. "We have a way."
__
Hannibal couldn't stop shaking. There was something inside him that was making his blood boil and burn him. Muscles and tendons and bone felt like they were being cooked and Hannibal didn't even try to stop his screams.
"Is it supposed to do this?" a voice asked, sounding concerned.
"That means it's working," another voice, a different voice, said. "Give it time."
Hannibal screamed again.
__
They'd brought him up to some lab and strapped him to a table. The ties were leather and thick but they'd added heavy chains and wooden boards to make sure he didn't go anywhere.
"What the fuck are you doing to me?" he'd growled. "I'm real happy to share my sperm with you but I gotta tell you, the kids are probably gonna come out a little warped."
There were people in the room that Hannibal didn't recognize. Abigail's friends, he guessed. People he hadn't known about. Jealousy raged through him, hot and bright and his eyes fell on Abigail. Fangs bared, he growled, trying to get at her. Abigail didn't move.
"You're done with this," she said and nodded to someone who'd, until now, been deep in the shadows.
Hannibal's head whipped around in enough time to feel a needle sinking deep into his arm. "What the fuck did you just give me? What the fuck? This won't work! I'm a fucking vampire! It won't work!"
Abigail came over and put a hand on his shoulder. Hannibal felt revulsion but she merely looked...sad. "Good luck, King."
__
Hannibal was crying. He wasn't awake but he was crying. There was just so much pain that it seemed to squeeze him like a vice tight enough to kill. He shivered and he cried, clutching his arms around himself and curling up into a fetal position.
Someone draped something heavy over him and ran a cool down down the back of his neck. His hot skin enjoyed the temporary reprieve. The tears continued coming from beneath closed eyes.
He continued to feel regret but it was...a different kind now. He didn't understand it. He didn't know.
__
"You'll die," Hannibal said, looking down at the spot where he'd just been injected with something. "My friends will come for me!"
Abigail shook her head and stepped back, looking stoic. "They won't. They haven't. You're nothing more than an expendable pawn to them like this. They probably don't even know you're gone."
"Liar!" Hannibal screamed, already feeling a strange burning sensation hitting his arm. "They will! She loves me!"
There was a moment of sadness on Abigail's face before she shook her head. "We'll talk later, King."
And, with that, she was gone. Hannibal pushed against his binds, trying to get out so he could just kill everyone and go home and prove to them that they were wrong, that his friends would come.
In the immediate aftermath of everything, Hannibal felt...regret.
__
There was pain. There was incredible pain. There were dulled voices and cool hands. There was the fuzziness of blankets and the sharpness of the binds still around him. There was regret. There were memories.
And then Hannibal opened his eyes.
[NFB, NFI, OOC welcome, of course. Italics denote flashbacks because life got away from me and I couldn't get all the individual parts up at once. Warning for: meanness to my boy, some violence and length.]
Regret that he hadn't killed more people, regret that he hadn't taken full advantage of his better body and his immortal talents. Regret that he hadn't ripped Danica's throat out after one of her snitty shit fits about his skills. Regret that he hadn't...done more.
The regret was the last thing on his mind when he lost consciousness. Hannibal was pretty sure it was the last time he'd see the world. And all he could feel was regret.
__
"That arrow in your gut's not gonna go away until you do," Abigail said, standing far enough away from him that Hannibal knew she feared him even if she pretended not to.
"Fine, so let me the fuck go," he snarled, pulling against the chains that she and her little pack of friends had bound around him. "I won't bother you, I swear. This town is big enough for the both of us, Abigail."
She shook her head. Her bow was lax at her side. Hannibal wondered what it would take to get her to drop that so he could sink his teeth into her throat and drink all that warm, supple blood. He licked his lips just thinking about it.
"Can't do that, King," she said, shaking her head. "Sorry. You see, I let you go, you go on killing people and I'm done letting you do that."
"You're done?" Hannibal asked incredulously, shifting to ease some pain of that arrow in his gut. "Really? That's cute coming from you. The girl with the secret society of fighters that I never knew about is done watching me kill people. Tell me, how are you gonna stop me?"
Abigail stepped closer to him and leaned in until she was right in his face. "We have a way."
__
Hannibal couldn't stop shaking. There was something inside him that was making his blood boil and burn him. Muscles and tendons and bone felt like they were being cooked and Hannibal didn't even try to stop his screams.
"Is it supposed to do this?" a voice asked, sounding concerned.
"That means it's working," another voice, a different voice, said. "Give it time."
Hannibal screamed again.
__
They'd brought him up to some lab and strapped him to a table. The ties were leather and thick but they'd added heavy chains and wooden boards to make sure he didn't go anywhere.
"What the fuck are you doing to me?" he'd growled. "I'm real happy to share my sperm with you but I gotta tell you, the kids are probably gonna come out a little warped."
There were people in the room that Hannibal didn't recognize. Abigail's friends, he guessed. People he hadn't known about. Jealousy raged through him, hot and bright and his eyes fell on Abigail. Fangs bared, he growled, trying to get at her. Abigail didn't move.
"You're done with this," she said and nodded to someone who'd, until now, been deep in the shadows.
Hannibal's head whipped around in enough time to feel a needle sinking deep into his arm. "What the fuck did you just give me? What the fuck? This won't work! I'm a fucking vampire! It won't work!"
Abigail came over and put a hand on his shoulder. Hannibal felt revulsion but she merely looked...sad. "Good luck, King."
__
Hannibal was crying. He wasn't awake but he was crying. There was just so much pain that it seemed to squeeze him like a vice tight enough to kill. He shivered and he cried, clutching his arms around himself and curling up into a fetal position.
Someone draped something heavy over him and ran a cool down down the back of his neck. His hot skin enjoyed the temporary reprieve. The tears continued coming from beneath closed eyes.
He continued to feel regret but it was...a different kind now. He didn't understand it. He didn't know.
__
"You'll die," Hannibal said, looking down at the spot where he'd just been injected with something. "My friends will come for me!"
Abigail shook her head and stepped back, looking stoic. "They won't. They haven't. You're nothing more than an expendable pawn to them like this. They probably don't even know you're gone."
"Liar!" Hannibal screamed, already feeling a strange burning sensation hitting his arm. "They will! She loves me!"
There was a moment of sadness on Abigail's face before she shook her head. "We'll talk later, King."
And, with that, she was gone. Hannibal pushed against his binds, trying to get out so he could just kill everyone and go home and prove to them that they were wrong, that his friends would come.
In the immediate aftermath of everything, Hannibal felt...regret.
__
There was pain. There was incredible pain. There were dulled voices and cool hands. There was the fuzziness of blankets and the sharpness of the binds still around him. There was regret. There were memories.
And then Hannibal opened his eyes.
[NFB, NFI, OOC welcome, of course. Italics denote flashbacks because life got away from me and I couldn't get all the individual parts up at once. Warning for: meanness to my boy, some violence and length.]