Pleading Groping Hands; Bleeding in the Sand (Wild Arms 3, yaoi/het implications, R) 1/5
Title: Pleading Groping Hands; Bleeding in the Sand
Author: Spinny Roses
Fandom: Wild Arms 3
Rating: R
Warnings: Disturbing weirdness, torture, sexual overtones, het and yaoi implications (no, not telling)
Spoilers: Whole game
Notes: Title and entire story is inspired by Delerium's "Duende." Will link a very general FAQ in user info if reviewers need it.
Disclaimer: Don't own.
Chapter 1
Hokay, that was the third rotting corpse he had passed today. The brown gelding under him was getting more and more jumpy as they traveled, and Jet was getting just a little tired of getting thrown once an hour. Also, the corpses had been getting weirder and weirder. The first looked like some stupid wannabe Drifter had been caught by a monster and mauled. Second one... Jet was certain that there was no monster on these part of the Filgaia plains that could produce bite marks like that.
The third, however... Jet could tell this was an experienced Drifter. He had died with his hands on his ARM, back to a rock. And what was left of his face expression spoke of something that scared him to death.
And that didn't set right with him.
It was only another half hour to Deadwood. He'd make it by midday. Jet took one hand off the reins to shift his ARM into a slightly more comfortable position.
And his gelding took that opportunity to panic and rear once again. Jet managed to stay on for a few precious moments before he was tossed onto his ass. Jet landed hard on the Airget-Lamh, breath knocked out of him by having the barrel jam itself up between his shoulders. The distant feminine giggling made his groan part pain, part annoyance.
"Going to Deadwood, Jet?"
"Yeah, yeah," he grumbled, picking himself up. "You too?"
Virginia nodded, her gait as she walked up to him a little off. He noticed the favoring of her right leg and snorted. "Your horse refuses to get anywhere near here too? I got as far as that rock over there," she waved a gloved hand behind her, "before Loveless decided to panic and run."
Loveless. It still surprised Jet that she decided to name her mare, and such a stupid name at that. "Think there's something in that town?"
"Like a monster?" Virginia frowned, putting one hand to her mouth. "We'd hear about it, wouldn't we? If anything, people from Deadwood wanting us to kill it so they can go home."
Jet grunted, not liking the idea of having to do monster extermination for no gella.
"Oh yeah! I saw Gallows. He said that he and Clive were going to check out one more lead before heading over to Deadwood as well. Maybe we can figure out our leads from there!"
Another grunt, this one more "eh, sure" than annoyed.
"Come on, Jet, let's get a move on! We can make it before sundown if we hurry!"
---
Going about everyday life is normal. Women washing clothes with nearby stream water, men getting together to talk about a good hunt or make one of their own. Things grow, plants are harvested, and at night, perhaps a drunken revelry or two.
This was the scene that greeted Jet and Virginia as the sun started its slow decent to the horizon. Deadwood was a good, wholesome town. Jet looked around in disgust, expecting more.
"Hey, travelers!" A matronly woman shifted her drooling infant in one arm, basket of bread in the other. "Ya ain't going to be spending the night, are ya?"
"Is that a problem?" Virginia asked, worried. They hadn't seen an inn yet... maybe Deadwood didn't have one.
"Nah. It just gets a little... weird during the night. Some Drifters ain't able to take it." She shrugged, unconcerned, and walked off, nearly tripping over a little boy that suddenly darted in her path. The brat shoved a thick lock of brown hair back, sticking a tongue out at her as he ran off in another direction.
Hmm, "a little weird during the night." That sounded more like it.
"Yo, Virginia, inn." Jet nodded towards a tall building proclaiming "Barry's Saloon and Inn." With a huge grin, Virginia turned to him and clasped her hands behind her back.
"Then what are we waiting for?"
"You just want to sit down."
"Hey!" Virginia spun away from him, affronted. The limp had gotten progressively worse as the day had gone on, though Virginia had tried her best to hide it and continue on a decent pace. With a shrug, Jet brushed past the annoyed girl.
"Well, what the hell are you waitin' for?
---
"You know, I thought this place would be..."
"M'r vi'lent?"
"Don't talk with your mouth full!"
Jet rolled his eyes and swallowed. "More violent? Yeah, I know what you mean." He shoved another piece of meat into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. The sun was almost down and yet everything still seemed normal.
Eh, the food was good. Kinda strange, though. Jet hadn't ever had meat like this before.
"Another dead end." Virginia sighed, setting her fork down. And proceeded to let out the reason why Gallows was not allowed to get into burping contests with their leader ever, ever again. "Oops!"
The final hiss of the "s" had just faded away as the sun vanished beyond the horizon.
Jet and Virginia jumped simultaneously at the sound of a large ARM going off. Screams, terrified and angered, filled the air. Without even needing to look at each other, the two Drifters scrambled out of their seats to be met with the sight and smell of an utter bloodbath.
And no one seemed to be free from the utter terror that had gripped the townspeople. The mother that had greeted them before was screaming at the top of her lungs, stabbing a man over and over in the face while the mutilated body of her infant laid behind her. The one with an ARM, a .45 single action revolver, was aiming wildly and shooting at anything that moved. A few townspeople were huddling in the shadows, unable to move from their spots.
Quickly, Jet grabbed Virginia's arm and shoved her out of sight. He barely had time to put a hand on his ARM when something smacked his head from behind. Jet tried to turn around as Virginia screamed out his name only to be cut off in pain. The cold barrel of an ARM was placed against the back of his head and his hands clenched. This was a pathetic and utterly idiotic way to die!
The barrel was slowly removed. Jet was tensing to free his ARM when whatever hit him before did so again, hard enough to cause him to finally black out amid the dying screams.
Author: Spinny Roses
Fandom: Wild Arms 3
Rating: R
Warnings: Disturbing weirdness, torture, sexual overtones, het and yaoi implications (no, not telling)
Spoilers: Whole game
Notes: Title and entire story is inspired by Delerium's "Duende." Will link a very general FAQ in user info if reviewers need it.
Disclaimer: Don't own.
Chapter 1
Hokay, that was the third rotting corpse he had passed today. The brown gelding under him was getting more and more jumpy as they traveled, and Jet was getting just a little tired of getting thrown once an hour. Also, the corpses had been getting weirder and weirder. The first looked like some stupid wannabe Drifter had been caught by a monster and mauled. Second one... Jet was certain that there was no monster on these part of the Filgaia plains that could produce bite marks like that.
The third, however... Jet could tell this was an experienced Drifter. He had died with his hands on his ARM, back to a rock. And what was left of his face expression spoke of something that scared him to death.
And that didn't set right with him.
It was only another half hour to Deadwood. He'd make it by midday. Jet took one hand off the reins to shift his ARM into a slightly more comfortable position.
And his gelding took that opportunity to panic and rear once again. Jet managed to stay on for a few precious moments before he was tossed onto his ass. Jet landed hard on the Airget-Lamh, breath knocked out of him by having the barrel jam itself up between his shoulders. The distant feminine giggling made his groan part pain, part annoyance.
"Going to Deadwood, Jet?"
"Yeah, yeah," he grumbled, picking himself up. "You too?"
Virginia nodded, her gait as she walked up to him a little off. He noticed the favoring of her right leg and snorted. "Your horse refuses to get anywhere near here too? I got as far as that rock over there," she waved a gloved hand behind her, "before Loveless decided to panic and run."
Loveless. It still surprised Jet that she decided to name her mare, and such a stupid name at that. "Think there's something in that town?"
"Like a monster?" Virginia frowned, putting one hand to her mouth. "We'd hear about it, wouldn't we? If anything, people from Deadwood wanting us to kill it so they can go home."
Jet grunted, not liking the idea of having to do monster extermination for no gella.
"Oh yeah! I saw Gallows. He said that he and Clive were going to check out one more lead before heading over to Deadwood as well. Maybe we can figure out our leads from there!"
Another grunt, this one more "eh, sure" than annoyed.
"Come on, Jet, let's get a move on! We can make it before sundown if we hurry!"
---
Going about everyday life is normal. Women washing clothes with nearby stream water, men getting together to talk about a good hunt or make one of their own. Things grow, plants are harvested, and at night, perhaps a drunken revelry or two.
This was the scene that greeted Jet and Virginia as the sun started its slow decent to the horizon. Deadwood was a good, wholesome town. Jet looked around in disgust, expecting more.
"Hey, travelers!" A matronly woman shifted her drooling infant in one arm, basket of bread in the other. "Ya ain't going to be spending the night, are ya?"
"Is that a problem?" Virginia asked, worried. They hadn't seen an inn yet... maybe Deadwood didn't have one.
"Nah. It just gets a little... weird during the night. Some Drifters ain't able to take it." She shrugged, unconcerned, and walked off, nearly tripping over a little boy that suddenly darted in her path. The brat shoved a thick lock of brown hair back, sticking a tongue out at her as he ran off in another direction.
Hmm, "a little weird during the night." That sounded more like it.
"Yo, Virginia, inn." Jet nodded towards a tall building proclaiming "Barry's Saloon and Inn." With a huge grin, Virginia turned to him and clasped her hands behind her back.
"Then what are we waiting for?"
"You just want to sit down."
"Hey!" Virginia spun away from him, affronted. The limp had gotten progressively worse as the day had gone on, though Virginia had tried her best to hide it and continue on a decent pace. With a shrug, Jet brushed past the annoyed girl.
"Well, what the hell are you waitin' for?
---
"You know, I thought this place would be..."
"M'r vi'lent?"
"Don't talk with your mouth full!"
Jet rolled his eyes and swallowed. "More violent? Yeah, I know what you mean." He shoved another piece of meat into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. The sun was almost down and yet everything still seemed normal.
Eh, the food was good. Kinda strange, though. Jet hadn't ever had meat like this before.
"Another dead end." Virginia sighed, setting her fork down. And proceeded to let out the reason why Gallows was not allowed to get into burping contests with their leader ever, ever again. "Oops!"
The final hiss of the "s" had just faded away as the sun vanished beyond the horizon.
Jet and Virginia jumped simultaneously at the sound of a large ARM going off. Screams, terrified and angered, filled the air. Without even needing to look at each other, the two Drifters scrambled out of their seats to be met with the sight and smell of an utter bloodbath.
And no one seemed to be free from the utter terror that had gripped the townspeople. The mother that had greeted them before was screaming at the top of her lungs, stabbing a man over and over in the face while the mutilated body of her infant laid behind her. The one with an ARM, a .45 single action revolver, was aiming wildly and shooting at anything that moved. A few townspeople were huddling in the shadows, unable to move from their spots.
Quickly, Jet grabbed Virginia's arm and shoved her out of sight. He barely had time to put a hand on his ARM when something smacked his head from behind. Jet tried to turn around as Virginia screamed out his name only to be cut off in pain. The cold barrel of an ARM was placed against the back of his head and his hands clenched. This was a pathetic and utterly idiotic way to die!
The barrel was slowly removed. Jet was tensing to free his ARM when whatever hit him before did so again, hard enough to cause him to finally black out amid the dying screams.