The Past Burns and Returns With Vengeance

Either way, it’s his mistake. They stop near the woods, and Damian turns and smiles and gives the okay. Tabitha’s eyes brighten immediately, and the prey’s face—oh, his face—it splits into a grim shade of regret and then quickly into terror as he sees Damian going for his actual real sister. He tries to lunge, but Tabitha is quicker, and tackles into his midsection, taking both of them to the ground.

Tabitha’s hand quickly wraps around the prey’s neck, and with his other, he whips the shillelagh off his back and whacks the other boy upside the head with it, just so—a move he’s done many times in the field, perfected even, and the prey is without doubt incapacitated. Tabitha takes his time to search his person, to remove pokemon and anything of value he can find, and to grope experimentally at the boy’s flesh. Not as much meat as he would want, but not bad.

Damian groped around on the girl, found two pokemon who were so terribly upset in their pokeballs, and brought out his paste to cover the seal. They wouldn’t be getting out from that anytime soon, it was something he had concocted himself.

He might have done a little extra groping, but hey, it was his prey, he was allowed to have his fun. It was more fun when they were squirming away in terror though. He hoisted her up onto his shoulder and looked over to Tabitha, gesturing with his hand to Zion to take point.

Damian starts to reiterate what Tabitha has told him, starts to muse on what it meant and the signs he should have seen, and that’s when Tabitha knows he’s in trouble, that his punishment is coming. The manbun. Damian lets his hair down, and inwardly, Tabitha weeps for the future of the world. ….Actually, it looks fine down, too. How was Damian always so goddamn pretty???

“He knows,” Tab deadpans, a grim expression taking over his features, “he damn well knows.” Denied it like a blasphemer, he thought, but definitely knew. He doesn’t need telling twice when Damian asks for the details, because he’s been sitting on this for weeks, waiting to tell him.

“She glowed. She fuckin’ glowed like the priests say the vessels of olde did. Fuck. Fuckin’ hell. She’s a groudon-damned vessel an’ I had no fucking clue!” Damian practically leapt to his feet as he spoke, his voice growing louder and more agitated. “Shards. What could shards mea-” Damian stopped cold. He had been at the final battle, had seen what had happened. Shards. Motherfucker.

It’s good to know Damian isn’t mad at him for taking shots at the bitch, though. Primarily, that had been what Tabitha had been worried about—that Damian would be mad he bit a chunk out of his favorite toy, that Tabitha would be in trouble, but instead Damian backs him up, and it’s a good feeling. “Ye make it look like such fun, mate,” he chuckles, “an’ ye know? All those beatin’s made ‘er tender. Teeth went right through her like tissue paper.”

They make it to another room. Everything looks the same to Tab—he doesn’t care where they head through as long as they end up in the nice, shady bit of woods Damian promised him. A small smile plays across his lips as he catches sight of Zion skulking around, and he braces himself for the sensation of teleporting that he hates so much but suddenly they’re stopped and Damian turns his head to whisper harshly at him, so close to his ear. Tabitha shivered, suddenly regretting saying anything. He could only hope Damian wouldn’t be mad at him.

Damian stopped cold. He stayed still a second, taking in Tabitha’s words before gesturing for Zion to come out and teleport them. After the rush of ozone and bit of initial dizziness from the move, Damian looked around the confines of his secret base and moved over to a soft spot of ground to sit Tabitha up against.

He sat across from Tabitha, still thinking for a minute before speaking. “Tainted. You say she’s tainted. With the essence of the trickster.” Damian’s voice was hard, unbelieving. But it made a horrible kind of sense. “The quick healing, the halting when she would get so mad, nothing I did would kill her-- it makes sense--” Damian brought a hand up to fidget with his hair as she spoke, agitation making his manbun come undone.

He tries to do what Damian does, tries to eye the people around them and stake out a mark (it’s hard when no one’s wearing Aqua-blue) but he doesn’t need to pretend to bother for long, because Damian finds a couple of people—Tabitha has to hop to see over the crowd, unfortunately he hasn’t hit any drastic sort of growth spurt yet—and he can see they look incredibly alike. Related? Maybe?

Damian approaches them and Tabitha follows closely behind, ears perked as he maybe stares a bit too obviously at the boy of the pair. He looks nice. He looks… tender. But he keeps his mouth shut while Damian spins his tale about his “missing sister,” and though Tabitha doesn’t see anything, when the girl asks if that was her, he’s confident his brother must have had Zion standing by somewhere.

He turns to Tabitha with a devilish grin, the two trapped between the two young Magma members. “Tabitha~ time for fun!” He whips himself over to the unsuspecting girl who lets out a screech as Damian descends on her, grabbing her around the waist and holding her flush to him. He leaves the young man to Tabitha’s whims, more focused on the nice smell, the soft flesh of the flailing girl he holds captive.

“Night, night sweetheart~” He pulls the syringe from his pocket and slips it into the exposed skin of her hip, her shirt pulled up slightly from her struggle. She lets out a soft wheeze of air before slumping in his arms, and Damian has time to admire his catch. Decent sized chest, nice hips, sweet smell-- he’d grabbed a good one today. She’d be a nice fuck, probably even more fun to torture with her brother in tow.

“Well, that explains it, then,” he says, “s’where I found her, all curled up on his couch. Thought she was tryin’ te git away from ye. Didn’t realize ye’d put ‘er there.” He sighs heavily and sits forward, shifting anxiously as he waits for his hands to be free, and when he finally felt the cuffs release he stretched his arms out and brought them around to his front for the first time in what seemed like forever. It ached, but it was a bit of a good ache, and he eyed the bruises and blisters on his wrists wearily, feeling the seeds of anger boil back up in him again.

If he’d been in any shape to, he’d have run off right then, gone on a rampage through the base—unfortunately, he didn’t think he could even stand on his own, but it seemed Damian was aware of the fact, because the next thing Tabitha knew, his brother was lifting him onto his back. He sluggishly lifted his arms to wrap them securely, yet loosely, around his brother’s neck, and he leaned into him and allowed himself to be carried. “Woods sounds nice,” he croaks, “peace and quiet sounds nice. Thanks, mate. Looks like I owe ye again, eh?” He laughs pathetically and and buries his face into Damian’s shoulder. It was comforting and warm like Groudon’s deserts. And speaking of Groudon….

“Trust me, him takin Sapphire was not in my plan, I don’t blame you for jumping her when you got the chance.” He looked down at Tabs, a dark grin on his face. “Sure as hell know I enjoy doing that.” He jostled Tabitha on to his shoulder, pulling the man firmly onto his back as he thought of a way to get them out of there. If he could just get three rooms down to where Zion laid in wait, they would be golden.

His eyes widened curiously as Damian explained how the drugs would work, as he showed him the needle and wagged it back and forth. Tabitha had never used a needle, before—though, he recalled once upon a time his father having to fly out to participate in an intervention for a cousin of his who, apparently, used needles to do drugs, himself. So they were really just going to get people high, he concluded in his head. “Morphine,” he repeated, “like they use in the infirm sometimes when they stitch people back up. Aight, I think I understand.”

The walk in the city is nice, lights and smells and people all converged in one place, the perfect setting for a grab-- so many unsuspecting victims, so many possibilities. He keeps an eye on Tabitha, gesturing for him to follow as he sees a street performer and a small crowd.

Perfect.

He quirks his head as signal to Tabitha, and sweeps his eyes over the crowd. No, no, no, wait-- there. Two people near the edge of the crowd. Both brunette, blue eyed, one young man, one young woman. About the same age as him and Tabitha, and if Damian’s intuition is right (he usually is about these things) then they have stumbled across a pair of twins. Perfect-- siblings are always fun to torture, always willing to try and protect the other. 

He walks over, a panicked expression on his face, the game about to begin. “Excuse me, hey man, have you seen a little girl around here-- I can’t find my little sister, my friend and I have been looking but I can’t find her. She was right around here, any chance you tow could help us look?” He shot a panicked look back at Tabitha, the signal that the game was afoot. Zion had been released earlier, her illusions ready to help draw the pair off. The pair immediately looked concerned, the young woman already scanning the crowd. The image of a little girl, no more than seven years old, flashed around a nearby corner catching her eye. 

“Was that her?” Concerned blue eyes peered at Damian as he gave a sharp nod, fake concern coloring his voice. “She loves to run and play games, could you tag along? She might come to you easier, she just wants to keep me and Nate here,” he gestured at Tabs, “--running all night.” the girl and her brother nodded, and Damian could hardly believe how lucky they were getting with these two. They started after her, and Damian slipped the syringe into his hand, with a nod to Tabitha.

“I dunno,” he croaked when he was finally free to speak once more, “I dunno, I been blinded this whole time—praise Groudon. Praise Groudon. Ye came. Praise Him.” It felt good to stretch his jaw and move his tongue, and he leaned forward to rest his forehead against Damian’s shoulder in a brief attempt to elicit comfort. “I didn’ think he had the balls, Dam. I don’—I don’ know how long I been here, I was scared nobody was gonna come—”

“Of course I came, you dolt. I’m yer brother in arms, I’ve got to make sure you don’t get yerself into shit like this.” Damian shook his head and did some math in his head before responding. “It’s been at least a few weeks, I shoved Sapphire under Archer’s nose to keep him busy, piss him off-- wasn’t expecting him to take her in of course, bit of a wrench in my plans but this--”

He listened as Tabitha rambled on, the look in his eyes making even Damian feel a sliver of pity for the man. This was no place for his brother-in-arms, certainly not. “It’s alright, of course I’m here to git you out, I’ve got a small secret base near out in the woods, you’ll like it there, none of these city brat Rockets’ll be able to find it.” The portion about Sapphire perked his interest, he’d have to hear more about this later.

Soon they’re outside, and he takes a moment to stop and stretch in the dying light of the sun, heaving a great, relaxed sigh. “Groudon’s blessin’ upon us!” he announced, “it’s been so clear all day! Maybe once we bleed the fuckers dry, we can hit a mud bath, I’m feelin’ good vibes from Him teday!” He reached up with one hand to grab Damian by the shoulder and give him a friendly little shake.

“I feel ya man, it does feel we got him on our side today. And the drugs?” Damian let out a wicked grin as he pulled a syringe out of his shoulder bag, wagging it in front of Tabitha. “Once we find a crowded spot, we wait till our mark is distracted, and everyone else is too, then we just-” Damian let his mouth round and make a popping noise as he pretended to push the syringe. “It’s not chloroform, it’s a high dose of morphine, so we can wake them up when we get them to where we want them.”

It had been days. Weeks, even. Maybe it had even been months. Tabitha wasn’t sure. It was hard to keep track of time down there, stripped of his sight, his mobility, his ability to even open his mouth and speak. Months of being starved out, beaten, treated like an animal, and all because Archer had caught him screwing with Damian’s toy. The only constant in his life besides the blindfold, the handcuffs, the muzzle, were the beatings, the waterboardings—and he was starting to wear down.

When they’d first taken him downstairs, he’d been certain he wouldn’t be down there for long. Someone would save him, whether it was someone he knew or someone he didn’t, and until then, he would need to bide his time and wait. It was a test, he would keep thinking, just a test. Groudon was testing his faith, pushing him to be a better worshiper, a better man, and so even when help didn’t come right away, he didn’t panic. He kept himself grounded, stoked the fiery faith in his heart and waited. Waited. Waited. He must have waited a while. He could feel his hair passing his ears again.

He continued to wait, kneeling on the hard concrete floor of wherever they were holding him with his hands cuffed securely behind his back and the muzzle and blindfold—well, they were one and the same, and with the odd wait at the back of his head, he had the feeling they were padlocked, an annoyance to consider on most days and downright maddening on the rest. He wanted it off—this was not a fun situation to be wearing it.

He had been searching for weeks, ever since his little pet had been taken into temporary custody of that asshole Archer. He had been searching for where Archer had hidden her, but after a few weeks, he had noticed Tabitha had gone missing as well. He had heard whispers in the catacombs, about someone having been taken down, but he had found no paperwork for it. He heard many things, whispers, that someone had attacked someone in Archer’s room. 

He had put the pieces together quickly. 

It had taken some time, but he had sneaked past a group of the T&I members and made his way down into the very depths of the chambers, had opened the door and found this. Tabitha, blindfolded, muzzled-- Damian felt a hot rage bubble up in his chest, Archer had this done to him, and even if he didn’t understand familial connection-- this was fucking unacceptable.

When they got to the dorm, he popped in briefly to change his boots and grab his ballcap, jamming it down over his messy hair. He waited patiently (or as patiently as he was capable) for Damian to change as well, practically vibrating by the door.

Tabitha was practically vibrating at the door, and it made Damian pick up his pace. It was good to see his little pup so excited for a good ol’ hunt. “Yeah, and the crowds will help cover the grab. All those people clustered together, just waiting to be grabbed. We knock em, and make it look like we’re helping a friend fine a place to rest. I’ve got drugs that’ll daze em long enough to get em’ to the woods, till then they’ll just look really drunk.”

“Yeah, mate!” he said, “some kinde festival er somethin, nothin’ with the Temple—music maybe? Carnival? Who knows? Gonna make it easy te blend it, Groudon, jes’ imagine it, pullin’ some dumb fuck right outta a crowd…..” He shivered with anticipation and took Damian by the wrist, tugging lightly in the direction of the door. “C’mon, Dam, ye gotta hurry, if ye take too long, there won’t be no one good te grab!”

He watched Tabitha dart forward and let out another laugh, louder this time and ran to catch up, pulling off his uniform hoodie as he did. He finally caught up with the overeager boy, and felt a smile tug at his lips. It was always so nice to have such an eager little peon to have around him, the boys willingness to kill was an even better bonus.

The Magma base was always buzzing with activity, for as long as Tabitha could remember staying there. It didn’t seem to matter the time or the day, everyone was always busy doing something, whether it was working or goofing off or other things, it never got boring. Well… maybe not never. It may have always been a buzzing, but it was a peaceful buzzing, like a happy vibrava dancing through the air. Sometimes, Tabitha thought, sometimes the peace could be stifling, and that was why he tried to keep as busy with missions outside as possible. It just so happened that, this week, there hadn’t been any, and he was going out of his mind.

Of course, boredom could easily be fixed. As usual, the boy found his steps—well, skips—leading him towards a very particular room, and he barely stopped to knock before poking his head in, grinning from ear to ear.

He swiped the knife clean across the man’s neck, listening to him gurgle as he bled out. “Wasn’t getting anything good from this one anyways. You said there’s something going on downtown? Lemme wash my face and grab a dark hoodie back at our bunk-- I haven’t had good fun in waaaaay too long mate.”

The room they ended up in didn’t make Shugo feel any better, of course. For a brief moment as they entered, he took in everything in the room he could, including what looked to be a man secured to a table with no way to run. Immediately, Shugo averted his gaze, trying to look anywhere but the prisoner; no, he wasn’t happy with this situation, not at all, his was already too much, and if it he wouldn’t lose points for doing it, he would turn around and run right back the way he came. Instead, he tried to focus on Damian, swallowing hard before he opened his mouth to reply.

“Alright then Shugo, this is the first lesson for today. But first I would like to know something.” Damian walked around to the table of sharp instruments next to the groggy man strapped up. He was a snitch, had tried to give away the location of one of the bases to the cops before he had been caught. Nothing had been let out, and the man was in for a very vigorous round of questioning.  

“I plan on playing the roulette with this one, but I’ve got backup plans if he tries to pull anything, don’t worry.” Damian gave a sharp grin to Tabs, before pulling the other man into  a side grip to ruffle his hair once more. “In the meantime, we’ve got to git some food inta you, I can’t believe Archer is letting you go hungry here!” He spoke with mock sarcasm, it was no secret he despised Archer, but loved to fuck with him.

“I’m not a recruit,” he groused, unable to help but prickle up, “and I didn’t piss off anyone. I’m second generation, and I’d bet my nidoran I’ve been here longer than an outsider like you.” Good job, dolt, he found himself thinking, making friends with the mentor, A+, totally won’t lose any of his points for the afternoon. Immediately, he deflated, eyes falling to rest on his feet. “The aptitude exam is in a few months. They want us to have experience with a lot of the jobs so they have an easier time placing us into departmental trainings.”

Fidgeting, he looked back up, eyeing the man wearily. He looked—well, Shugo supposed he looked alright. He didn’t seem like the demented monster his dad had made interrogators out to be, but—but there was something, something that just seemed off, the same kind of something that felt wrong abut Mr. Petrel, but Shugo couldn’t quite place it. Thank Mew this was only for one day—still, he supposed he should be making an effort to behave himself, and with a sigh, he snapped off the salute he and his peers had been taught since they were old enough to begin training.

He nodded as the kid explained why he was there, and Damian flipped through the file, trying to fine the best victim to start the kid on. Ahhhh, here. A snitch to the police they had ‘recovered’ from custody. Perfect.

“Just call me Damian, formality ain’t really my thing.” He snapped the file shut and gestured for the the kid to follow him. “Alright, welcome to Torture and Interrogation, or as some people like to call it-- the fungeon.” He turned to grin a the kid as they descended into the depths of the base, leading Shugo to a small room with a man strapped to a table.