#AGONY pure unfiltered PAIN AND SUFFERING | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dcvotion · 3 years ago

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❀ || Here’s your warning now !! If you don’t know what Fatal Frame is, it’s a survival horror game in which you photograph ghosts who have suffered in many awful ways. If death, horror, and all of those things aren’t your thing, don’t read! Some things mentioned in the drabble below are dismemberment, eye horror, body horror, stalking, and sickness, so please read at your own risk (even if I didn’t write anything too vicious or heavily described).

This is all from @codebestowed and mine’s Fatal Frame AU ♡ Read Sora’s side of things here !!

If there was one thing Riku would never get used to, it was the sheer amount of pure, unfiltered energy that made up malicious ghosts, the reminder coming to him in the form of slender fingers wrapping themselves viciously around his bicep with a force that made him feel as though his arm had been touched by live wire. Elongated, scarlet nails that were quite obviously not painted on, curled around soft flesh and muscle, a shrill voice reverberating around the room in a near deafening rising cacophony the more venom she spat.

‘Don’t look at me! Don’t look at me !! How dare you judge me!’

He should have sensed the Mistress’s presence long before she manifested, her aura near suffocating with malice. There was little time to feel foolish over his mistake, not when the camera obscura trembled so insistently at his side as the spirit confined within grew equally as angered as she. Sora’s form was at his side in an instant, the phantom’s arm shooting out quicker than Riku could properly unravel the camera’s aperture as his friend moved in to defend him. Arm still seized in under the Mistress’s firm grip, the camera’s strap trapped beneath crimson claw, Riku struggled to lend aid in the form of being the camera’s user, but the angle was all wrong.

Suddenly, the photojournalist was thrown effortlessly across the room, Sora’s concerned voice breaking through the piercing, angered screams of the Mistress.

The burning against his side tore a hiss from the silveret’s lips, elbow gracelessly colliding with the floor in an effort to break his fall, only for the rest of his form to come tumbling after. It was in abject horror that Riku watched as the camera obscura slipped from his hold, old and rotting tatami flooring providing little as a means of stability and grip as it skated across the surface.

Down the gaping hole that had been worn into the floor, exposed beams and foundation support being the only safety between them and the drop from their place in the manor atop the cliff. The camera’s neck strap, now torn and damaged, was caught precariously on a protruding beam.

‘Riku ?’

It was as if Sora’s whisper toppled over the first domino that strung together the next chain reaction, the brunet’s ghostly form suddenly flickering by the room’s entrance only to be jostled across the room with a pained cry, forced to remain within the camera’s permitted range.

One which was currently threatening to slip off the beam and down into the village’s ground level below.

‘You think I’m hideous!’ Continued the Mistress’s wails, razor nails clawing down marred and misshapen features. ‘You think me a monster!’ She pressed on with the accusations, and it took all of Riku’s focus and sheer will to balance equal amounts of attention onto her and the wide-eyed stare of Sora below. ‘I’ll show you... !!’ The last bit of her statement was growled in a low, venomous whisper, as if without warning, her voice had gone hoarse from mistreatment.

Eerily calm, slender form draped in the finest of silks, she moved forward in her advance, spurring Riku on to make his decision.

“Sora!” He twisted around, shuffling towards the edge of the hole in the ground and reaching forth to grab hold of the camera’s strap. With every shift, every inch taken into the dangerous gaping maw and onto the rotting beams, the wood began to groan and splinter beneath his weight.

No... no, he had to...! He had to save Sora! He couldn’t do this alone, not without him! They made a promise to see things through to the end together !!

Another groan, but his chosen perch remained unbroken, and actively did the photojournalist ignore the Mistress’s twisted laughter as she did nothing but whisper sweetly of all the mutilation he would suffer at her hand that he, too, would be made ugly and malformed, just as the tainted water did to her. It mattered not the promises she made, they were built on sinking ground at best, Riku’s own driving him forth to reach Sora, who’s own hand reached for his.

How strange it was to see: Fear, panic, hope, and longing, all reflected back at him through a dead person’s eyes; How alive Sora appeared to be, as lifeless dark carmines seemed to swim with life within their unblinking gaze.

Fingertips nearly grazed before the camera’s strap snapped and sent the camera obscura plunging into the quiet village below.

Riku didn’t know who screamed, himself, Sora, or the Mistress approaching from above.

Perhaps it was all three.

“SORA !!” Panic, palatable and colder than any winter, it settled into his being as though it stemmed from his very soul, vision blurring in a mixture of anxiety and building tears. Something inside of him broke, hands unable to stop in their tremor, a feeling that only transferred straight through into his shoulders. His entire body was trembling, breath coming in short, quick pants hyperventilating as he watched the camera, and Sora’s comforting presence, vanish over the cliffside.

I... I have to go get him... I have to-- ‘I’LL MAKE RIBBONS OUT OF YOU!’

Bloodied fingers reached for silver tresses, jostling Riku out of his daze. Heart hammering firmly within his chest, he clamored across the beam in an effort to crawl beneath the house’s foundation, a cramped space which provided just enough room to shuffle his body through with panicked motions. The Mistress remained wailing from her spot above, an endless stream of curses and terrible promises, vividly describing the desecration of Riku’s living body in awful glee.

‘String you up! Such a pretty pretty ribbon you’ll be~’ Dirt clumped against his chest, burrowing under his nails and slipping into his shoes as he breathed heavily in his escape. ‘Will you make me beautiful again? Your skin will make a fine gown!’ His lungs felt on fire, but he knew the labored breath wasn’t due to him being out of shape. Vision blurring once more, he felt the beginnings of another internal threat waiting to throw his senses into overdrive.

A panic attack. He hadn’t had one of those since he was a kid in the homes, openly weeping to the matrons of awful twisted apparitions and a sky that wouldn’t stop raining red.

‘I’ll cut you to pieces! You don’t deserve to look beautiful! I do! I do! I ’

Silence, deafening and sharper than any knife, causing Riku to pause in his escape. It was only then that he noticed the newly acquired lightning scar to mar the skin against his arm, right where the Mistress had held him in her vise grip, but he didn’t linger on the matter too long.

Why is it so damn quiet...?

A shuddered breath, the exhale he let out being cut short each and every time he tried. He should be glad there was no more screaming, but dead silence never meant well when it came to this cursed village. If Riku had learned anything during his time here, it was that silence meant you crossed into another’s domain, the boundary belonging to each ghost varying. The Mistress was bound to her manor, tall and proud beams displaying every luxurious expense with nothing spare. Was beneath such a grandiose display not a part of that domain?

No, of course not, his mind supplied, allowing himself to calm the slightest in knowing he was safe. She thinks herself too high and mighty to even think of lowering herself this far into the dirt, in living or in death.

Eyes slipped shut, yearning for the safety of the blindfold Sora had found for and gifted him.

More than that, he wanted nothing more than to get Sora back, safe and sound, where he knew they could both watch each other’s backs and keep one another safe.

Lashes fluttered open in a moment’s determination. ‘She put me down here... she is cruel...’ Only for a pale face to greet him in twisted, mangled agony, the spirit’s limbs obviously broken in such a way that came from careless shoving and forcing into a space that was not meant to be filled. She reminded Riku of a spider, elbows and knees bent upwards as joints were pressed firmly into the beams above his head, her neck craned and dangling with the gentlest of sways.

‘The Mistress... even when beautiful... was always an ugly monster...’

And then she had vanished, fading into nothingness as her words provided another blanket of silence. His heart drummed within his chest relentlessly, mercilessly beating against his ribs with such force, Riku swore he could feel the dirt beneath him shift as if being subjected to an earthquake. No matter how many spirits he encountered, each and every one was frightening in their own right, be it by how large of a threat they were, or how terrible a fate they had suffered.

There would be many more ghosts to stand in his way on his journey to find Sora, and even as Riku pulled himself through the crawlspace, and finally, out to freedom, it was difficult to think he could make it through unscathed and without being afraid.

‘Don’t be afraid’, he recalled Sora telling him, fingers gingerly digging out the semi-transparent cloth from his pocket, ‘This will keep you safe.’

He stood there for a moment, body aching with more than just a few bruises and burns, but with a fear and primal need to ensure his ghostly companion was safe to ensure that his friend was safe. Cameras were fragile things, especially one of the obscura’s particular make. It could have been damaged from the fall, even if the camera hadn’t been folded out when it had fallen. Riku only hoped the sturdy casing kept it protected during the tumble.

With shaking hands, cloth met his eyes and shrouded his vision in a layer of darkness, embroidery of cherry blossoms and branches stitched into the fabric in just as black a thread as the rest. It was a subtle design, despite its intricacy, but the fabric or design itself wasn’t what made it so special.

Eyes were the windows to the soul, so the saying went. It was easier to go unnoticed by the phantoms when your eyes were kept hidden, but most of all, it made it easier to remain hidden from

No... no, he couldn’t think of that nightmare of a spirit, a cold chill being sent tumbling down his spine. Riku felt safe underneath the guise of the cloth, and that’s what had mattered.

Sora had told him he was safe wearing it, after all, and he trusted the camera’s spirit with all he had.

“S-sora... please be safe...” He murmured quietly, brows drawn together in a moment’s concern before he drew in a deep breath and took the first step forward.

The pathway from the manor down back into the village was lined with unlit stone lanterns and Japanese maples, bright and fiery leaves rustling gently in the light breeze. It was harder to see with the blindfold over his eyes, despite how translucent the fabric was, not with how the moon overhead grew shrouded behind passing clouds. Riku found comfort in the constant chirping of crickets amidst the otherwise silent night, their music drowning out each and every shaken breath he took as boots took care with each step down the sloping pathway. It was cold, but Riku couldn’t determine whether that was due to the actual temperature of the night, or because of the lingering spirits to inhabit the village.

A sob, one that had the silveret holding his breath and freeze in his descent, going so far as to lifting his hands to his mouth in an effort to keep his breathing to a minimal. Its source came from the mockery of a torii gate just at the end of the pathway, the shape mimicking the sacred gate commonly found on sacred grounds or before shinto shrines. The Mistress was so full of herself in life, it seemed, that she had the thing built to signify the entrance to her manor. A sacrilege among the village, no doubt, if the wrinkle in Sora’s nose told Riku anything the first time they had crossed the grounds.

Sora...

If he wanted to find Sora, he needed to brave the village on his own. With every cautious step taken forward, Riku saw more and more of the phantom stationed behind the gate, a young man knelt in prayer who paid the only living soul there no mind.

‘Heavens help us,’ he mourned unmoving, ‘the sickness is spreading...’

And then he was gone, just as the last spirit had done, vanishing from sight and leaving Riku alone in the dark once again.

I can do this... Sora, I’ll be right there. Just please... please be okay..!

Humble homes stretched out before him, old and forgotten banners and signs swinging lightly in the breeze, the ocassional rusty creak weaving itself upon the wind’s breath. The young photojournalist pressed onward, feeling eyes on him from all angles. On instinct, Riku’s hand flew to his side, wanting nothing more than to feel the reassuring presence and warmth of the camera at his side.

But hand met nothing but his jeans, the space empty where his comfort once was. His opposite hand flew to his chest, fingers curling around a strap that no longer pressed against there, and instead, found himself clutching at the fabric of his shirt instead.

Riku couldn’t lie.

He was terrified, a fear fueled by his own regard for his safety, and the fear that something terrible had happened to Sora and it had been his own, careless fault.

There was screaming suddenly in the distance, loud and piercing, sending Riku near stumbling down stone steps. Heart lodged within his throat, sea green eyes widening behind the veil, he listened intently for the source, hearing the gentle rustling from a house nearby and the falling of something ceramic in another. The spirits were sensing him, smelling his fear and seeking him out to their locale, enticing that sense of curiosity and concern that any living person would pursue in order to ensure the inhabitant from within was okay.

Riku wouldn’t be lured by their tricks, picking up the pace as his heart hammered within his chest, every beat sending spots into his vision. He had his goal, his mind set and determined to find Sora. There would be nothing that could get in the way of his goal, not even

‘I found you...’ That familiar voice hit him like a wave, crashing over him with a force that drew a startled, strangled sound from his lips. Riku hated how his senses seemed to shut down at the sound, hands clamped over his mouth once again as he felt the beginnings of panic settle over him all over. ‘You have my eyes... Give me back my eyes...!’

He saw the Eyeless Akinari’s fingers curl from around the corner of an alley, long digits digging into the wood as though using it for support, before the rest of his form came rounding about. Nose pointed high in the air, he sniffed and smelled for the living, breathing presence to walk among the dead, neck craning a moment before he directly faced Riku’s form.

Thoroughly caught, it spurred the silveret on, feet digging into the ground below as he broke into a sprint. Long limbs reached for him, the air charged with static from the energies Eyeless Akinari radiated, so much so, Riku felt the hairs on his arms stand on end as he twisted away from the ghost’s reach.

‘Don’t be greedy! Share your eyes with me!’

“Get ” His voice cut out, a particularly harsh beat of his heart shaking his very being as he scrambled for balance and bolted down the village steps, hands shooting out to push himself off buildings as he practically ricocheted back and forth clumsily with each dodge. “ your own!”

Riku climbed over stone fencing, leaping over modest gardens that had long lost their fruit and flora, before vaulting over into the roads behind. All the while, Eyeless Akinari followed like a bloodhound chasing its target without mercy, begging and pleading that Riku comply with his requests (demands). Breath heavy on his lips, he descended further and further into the village, ignoring mournful cries and wailing pleas, even when hands sought a banister for stability, ghostly counterparts rising to grasp at them in an effort to further seek his aid.

They were disembodied arms, but the voice to echo in sharp gasps in his ears was particularly feminine.

‘Help me! Please, help me! It hurts! It hurts!’ “I-I’m sorry, I can’t !”

‘Give me back my eyes! You stole them! It’s not fair! It’s not fair!’

Riku tore his hand from the partial apparition, continuing on his race to find his friend. If he could somehow lose the Eyeless Akinari

The cherry blossoms... Eyes widened at the sight of them, that particular part of the village having been long abandoned over the fear of the tainted waters. The ghosts avoided the pastel trees out of fear for their afterlives, for reasons Riku couldn’t entirely understand, not just yet. Sora had spoken very briefly over the matter, but the point remained the same: Cherry blossom trees meant safety.

Sparing no time, Riku bolted for the trees, narrowly missing another swipe from the Eyeless Akinari. The spirit let out an angered scream, making Riku’s blood run cold as the sound startled him and sent him sprawling onto the ground.

Lungs cried for him to stop, to rest and catch his breath, but Riku forced himself upright anyhow, hands reaching forward to clutch at the ground and pull him forward if he had to. The ghost was just above him, but fingers met soft fallen petals with that single reach. Fists clenched, the silveret twisted on the ground and threw a handful of petals at Eyeless Akinari in a last minute’s effort to fight back.

The scream was deafening, but Riku registered the pained sound not to be his own terror fueled, determined one.

Eyes that he hadn’t realized he squeezed shut slowly fluttered open behind the blindfold, catching sight of Eyeless Akinari’s flailing form behind embroidered fabric.

Riku took the moment to scramble back onto his feet, sprinting down the path despite the newly acquired ache he felt in his knee. The road through the cherry blossoms would only slow the phantom down, and surely, Riku would encounter the awful spirit someplace deeper into the village, near the mill the silveret knew resided just below the manor, and where likely, Sora resided in wait.

His chest burned, lungs on fire, but Riku refused to give pause.

Not until he found Sora and knew he was safe.

#VERSE ✬ FATAL FRAME AU #//Do I have enough warnings??? gjhskda who knows but wowie-- I wrote this a while ago c': again... THE BRAIN ROT IS REAL GDHJSK #I love this AU to bits ugh!! Super self-indulgent drabble~ I love the boys//#eye horror tw;#body horror tw;#stalking tw;#blood mention tw;#horror tw;#death mention tw;#ghosts tw;#✮ || ᵀʰᵉ ʳᵒᵃᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵈᵃʷⁿ (QUEUE)

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undead-notunreasonable · 4 years ago

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HAPPY DRAC-O-WEEN || PART 31 OF 31 ||

The sound of dripping stirred Dracula from his slumber, his body felt a strange mixture of light & heavy. Both mourning & relief. There was a strange silence about the place he were in, something held within the air but he couldn’t figure out what it could be. Eyes opened slowly, seeing the stone ceiling above him, the way the candlelight flickered onto the condensation suggested he was somewhere dark, somewhere underground, a cellar perhaps. But it couldn’t have been any ordinary cellar, at least most cellars don’t have beds within them, almost like nurses beds. With a soft groan, Dracula sat up on his elbows, letting his eyes adjust to the light. It’d been at least a century that he’d been somewhere that relied solely on candlelight to illuminate a room. A shuffle in a seat drew his attention to a woman in what seemed to be a blue cloak, a...habit. If he could breathe, it would certainly catch in his throat. “Oh good, you’re awake at last.” a thick, chirpy Dutch accent called back to him. Dracula felt so tired & above all confused, staring at the woman until she pushed past his blurred vision by coming to his bedside “Agatha?” he called out weakly, trying to make sense of it all. “Yes, Count Dracula. You are at my side once again it seems, you’re harder to distance myself from than anyone else.” she slid into a seat, looking at him with a look of scepticism. “What’s going on? How am I here?” he asked trying to sit himself upright until he felt cool slim fingers pressing him down again. “That is not the question we have to ask ourselves.” she urged, dropping her nose so she could look at him with an arched brow. “But if you must know, it seems that those lives you have taken within your 500 years not only live on through you but you continue to live on through them. I seem to be the prioritised choice, which makes sense when you think about it, I was the only one after all who came closer than anyone to understand the beast.” “I feel I’m hardly a beast, I haven’t been this tired in centuries.” he wheezed out and tired he looked, his eyes could barely keep open, his body just hurt, almost as though he were mortal. Agatha watched on at him, arching her neck to get a better look, observing the man who were much different to the woman she’d met at those convent gates. “The question isn’t how but why?” Agatha urged, she particularly enjoyed watching people figure things out for themselves. “Because your blood is within my blood, not only did I carry you, you carried me, all the people whose lives I’ve taken I can easily return to like a terrible book I just can’t seem to finish.” Van Helsing had a glowing smile on her lips at that. “And you can’t bare a bad book, can you?” another arch of her brow, this time rather than judging him, she was challenging him. Dracula’s dark eyes flicked to hers for a brief moment before looking ahead once more, staring at more stone wall dripping with liquid. He lay quiet just then, thinking things over. How did he get here, what had just happened that sent him within his own mind. He was storming the foundation himself and...Vlad. A jolt in his memory brought about the flash of a vision: Vlad’s head on a spike, where it was always meant to be. Surely he would be here with him, inside his veins, they’d shared blood so surely-- “Vladimir Tepes is not here, Count Dracula.” Agatha interjected. “Remember, we’re connected, I can hear your thoughts.” His eyes scanned the walls, recounting everything that had happened and how it came to Vlad being beheaded. His hands began to shake and eyes filled with tears “They killed him. They stole him away from me just when we’d found each other again. We loved each other & we were going to rule--” he began to babble, feeling his heart burn with pain. “--I’m surprised someone as cruel & deadly as you could love someone but I’m afraid that notion was never returned to you.” Agatha remained steady then, knowing her words were unkind but it better to speak the truth. “What are you talking about, of course he did--” “No. He didn’t.” she spoke more sternly this time, taking hold of the conversation like a riding bull “He was using you to win the throne, making you do all the dirty work, finding out information, infiltrating the foundation, speaking to Mr Harker, then he was going to make you his second man.” Dracula took a complete offence to this, cheeks puffing with anger at how a nun could talk about his relationship. “Think about it.” Agatha urged “Whenever you tried to initiate things, did he reciprocate those feelings?” Dracula’s puffed cheeks slowly dropped as he thought things through. He seemed to avoid him all the more the plan were staring to come together. “And didn’t he just steal a human away from you just now? Almost as though he was power hungry, and you just let him.” Annoyingly, as always, Agatha was right. Piecing these things together made Dracula begin to shake once more, trembling with heart break before he burst out into tears. “Oh!” she beamed at the sight, being somewhat cruel in her actions “The vampire does cry, that’s new.” His tears faltered then, taking in a deep breath, realising that he didn’t want that in front of her. His lips pursed in annoyance instead. Until his original question remained in his mind: How is he here? “You’re talking to me, an awful lot, just like before.” his eyes narrowed as he watched her. Agatha rose from her seat, walking away from his bedside again. Dracula sat up immediately, honing his focus on the nun “You’re distracting me again, Agatha Van Helsing. What are you up to?” just then, he climbed out of the bed, seeing himself back in Jonathans robes after he’d torn at his face. “You’re a creature of consequence.” she turned on her heel, raising her chin to look up at him. “All creatures, even humans, have to suffer for their actions.” “You’re killing me, aren’t you?” “No.” her hands folded together as she kept herself calm, and stood strong against the vampire. “I’m not the one killing you.”

A strange sucking sound grew to become an overwhelming sound of vacuum. The surroundings had melted away from that of underground cellar in St Mary’s Convent Budapest to what seemed as though they stood in middle of a tornado. Dracula had to shield his eyes from the dust, squinting to see if he could find any sign of, well, anything beyond this whirlwind. There were screams and moans twirling through the dust, swirling into his hair & clothing. “Where am I?” he called out to the woman in front of him. Agatha still remained still, hands neatly folded as thought the wind didn’t rock her. “Your turmoil!” she called back against the noise “Your victims, your pure unfiltered chaos! All wrapped into one great storm!” Dracula grabbed at the woman then, snarling down at her “Put me back, put me back at that Foundation!” his eyes were wild & shining, matching the mayhem of their surroundings. Pain, excruciating agony but at least the surroundings were quiet aside from his cries. His eyes laid upon the stake of which pierced through his chest, splintering through his heart. A hand reached up to clutch at it & found it covered in blood, having already attempted without himself knowing. His breath wobbled, blood, his own, trickled up from his throat. This was his end. He’d never thought it would be something like this, he always imagined in a much grander scheme, a ruler, adored, not... inside a research centre. He cried out again, eyes meeting the head of Vlad where heartbreak & anger were at war with one another. He choked on his blood once more. How did this happen? The position of the stake were just out of reach for him to pull out. “D,” a female voice called out, tears streaming down her face. “I had to do it.” her voice waved. His eyes looked from the stake until they met beautiful shining brown ones. Lucy Westenra was the one to make him meet his demise, who’d have thought? “I saw what you was planning.” she dropped to her knees, small hands covered in his blood, trembling just as much as he did. “I’m so sorry, D. I couldn’t---” she hiccupped “---I couldn’t let that happen. I couldn’t let you go through with it. Not again.” despite her anger, she was riddled with remorse, clutching at him as though she wasn’t ready to lose him, like she hadn’t placed the stake there herself. A long sharp finger came up, giving a soft wag as he spoke “Lucy Westenra, as long as I live in your memory, I will continue to haunt you for the rest of your Octobers.” he snarled at her one final time. Two people he’d accepted into his life, both betrayed him.

The tornado like purgatory returned once more, and Dracula found himself staring at it’s bleak grey walls. “You’re dying, Count Dracula. At long last. This is the end of the line.” Agatha called out once more. Dracula looked paler than usual, and if anything, absolutely petrified by the idea. “The monster that once was, no one to love him, crushed by those he thought loved him, and murdered by his finest experiment. His last experiment.” She corrected. “A foul stinking beast, gone. A final bow. How does that feel?” All this time he’d managed to avoid death, escaping it’s every sharp claw, and now it had been taken from him, just as he were rising the ranks. The sounds of his victims from five centuries seemed to wail together, rising and roaring at him in their anger. How dare he be upset that he time came before he wanted. Hands threw over his ears to try and drain them out but it was no use. The Count dropped them to his thighs, bursting into tears once again, completely defeated & exhausted. “I have blood on my hands that will never come clean.” he wailed “I’m sorry! Agatha,” he closed the gap between them “I don’t know what to do, how could I have let that man get into my head! Agatha Van Helsing, please help me, please let me repent.” he begged, clutching onto the bottom of her habit, willing her to help him in anyway that she could. Within the commotion, a door appeared between them, slowly opening to reveal a bright white light, and within it, his home. Wallachia. The sound of his Mother & Sister laughing within the kitchen of his childhood home. The smell of snow, stew, and wood burning swirled his purgatory. He looked at it in complete bafflement, bewildered more like. Was this... his heaven? His wide eyes & slack jaw looked back to Agatha, who was looking beyond the door herself & gave a short laugh “Hmm! That seems like a nice place to spend eternity.” she bounced her shoulders in delight at the sight. “Why? After all this time, after all these people I’d killed, slaughtered, and tortured?” “You have to remember, Count Dracula, this is life, everybody dies here. But not only that- -The devil himself was an angel in the beginning. It’s time for you to go home.”

#gif credit gatissed #ITS THE END #THE END THE END #i teared up a little #like it's the end??? but also agatha was there in HIS end????#he wanted agatha as he was dying ya'll #Claes Bang #Dracula #Dracula 2020 #Dracula BBC #BBC Dracula #Netflix Dracula #Dracula Netflix #Count Dracula #Claes Bang Thirst Squad

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brinnygetsstabbed · 4 years ago

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Youve been so sad lately so lets turn that frown upside down!► Take this knife and cut a nice big smile from the edges of your mouth up to your ears! Make sure its nice deep so everyone can see it!

Thirty minutes. It took thirty minutes for her to not die, but get up and finally wrap the unbearable wound in her arm. She had her breakdown moment, as now the numbness had left, leaving all those bottled up fears exploding into her brain. Terror, pure terror and hopelessness and unfiltered suffering.

It all was only mildly cathartic.

Now, she’s got a new note, and it makes her tears fall heavier. She can’t keep doing this, it hurts too much.

But she’s under pressure. Cosmic, unforgiving pressure.

Don’t think, just do.

A shaky hand grabs the knife, her eyes close when she puts the blade to the corner of her mouth. A simple slice upward to her ear, that’s all she needs to do. Twice, then it’s over.

Her free hand grips the fabric of her shirt when the knife digs into her flesh again, she takes the push of pain in stride this time, using it to make this go as quickly as possible. Within a moment, her cheek is cut open, the sensation is strange, her jaw feels... looser, even through the pain. It puts spots of black into her vision, yet still she continues.

Refusing to let the blood run down her throat, all of it ends up spilling down her face, trailing down her neck and staining the collar of her shirt. Just one more cut. It’s rougher than the first, simply because she has to switch hands in order to do it easily. Her wound makes every single movement hurt like hell. There’s too much pain in too many places, it’s distracting. The attempted slice to the other side of her mouth is twitchy and shaken.

Her senses have deactivated at this point, just to avoid being done in by shock. Her jaw has locked shut, sealed and unmoving. No blood flows into her mouth, she won’t let it. She just lets the crimson liquid coat her face, staining her red.

She knows she is going to die. She’s accepted it. At this point, she hopes a final command comes in, ending the agony.

#Brinley speaks;; ic #A stranger approaches;; anon #Young and scorned;; triggering content #;;tw heavy gore

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waywardwhump · 5 years ago

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Attic Angel

It happens again, and again, and again. The burn in his lungs builds, he lingers close to death, he’s allowed enough air to come back. Over and over, each time forced into a new position that’s specifically designed to hurt him.

His body produces blood too fast for the continuous trickle to bleed him dry. The world spins, and each time the darkness draws close to him, he wonders if this’ll be the last.

The sun returns to bake his back, but still his skin is starved of light. Cool air provides only minor relief, and by the time he heals, dawn returns to start the process over.

Three days. Five days. A week.

His captor is ever vigilant. He leaves for hours but always returns just in time to revive him. There’s no opportunity to threaten, to ask what his goal is, to beg for release, just tiny moments where he’s told to plead for air, and as soon as he’s taken in enough to last he’s cut off again.

Of course his captor is patient. He’s known for that patience. He’s known for this sort of cruelty.

Ranizel’s body aches for light. Pure, unfiltered light, to cleanse the creeping darkness. It occurs to him that this is the plan. This man intends for him to fall.

It hits him hard that this is a possibility. Heaven always talks of falling as a punishment, not as a risk of war. The fallen only become such because they are traitors. It’s not something that can be forced on someone.

Yet it’s happening. He can feel it happening. A tickle of warning, a creeping dread, the awful loss of something impossible to get back.

There is no precedent for undoing a fallen’s corruption. Fallen angels are supposed to deserve the state they’re in, the act of being separated from heaven is the price for the worst of crime.

Yet he’s on the verge of it. It’s starting. He’s trapped in plain view of the sun but the veil of power filters out what he needs.

His prayers can’t reach heaven. His fellow angels haven't found him.

They wouldn’t be able to help if they did.

Terror rises up in him, it claws at his heart and drives him to struggle despite the pain. He doesn’t want to fall. Anything but falling. Anything. He was prepared to lose his life, but no one ever once suggested that he might lose his connection to heaven.

He’s given air in precious little sips. He’s twisted into a new, horrible position.

His captor smiles and runs fingers through his hair.

“You understand now, don’t you? No act of heroism can stop this. All the lives you’ve saved and all the people you’ve protected won’t mean anything to your kin. You’ll lose everything. Doesn’t that strike you as unfair?”

Hands curl into the muscle of his shoulders, pushing him down, and he writhes at the strain of rods digging into his flesh. There is no give. He can’t stop it. He’s powerless.

“You’ve done nothing to deserve this, but look at you. Left to suffer. Left abandoned to my hands. How sad this is, such a loyal creature facing the betrayal of those he trusted most. It’s not your fault. It’s theirs.”

The rods of energy piercing him, the unseen forces that cut through muscle and nerves to pin him in place, they started to expand.

Eyes wide with pain, his mind goes blank, the wounds all throughout his body widen as skin tore. The pain demands his focus, white-hot agony to make him fear more of this over the risk of falling. He knows why, he knows exactly why. This is to make him think of himself, his body, over his status as an angel.

His captor pulls away and watches his suffering with a passive gaze. As the shock of his injuries ebb and the pain dulls to a throb, Ranizel’s thoughts return to him. His captor says, “not that you’d ever admit it to yourself. I know angels like you. I know how stubborn you are. It’s difficult for you to place blame on the ones who really deserve it.”

A shrug here. A sympathetic smile.

“It’s alright. You aren’t the first to lie beyond my reach. You won’t be the last.”

#Whump #Attic Angel #Tw: torture #Tw: suffication #Tw: impaled #wayward's favorites

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hubertspala · 5 years ago

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MONSTERMONTH No.18 - Ethereal

One of the credo of the Church of Infinite Suffering is that pain never ends. As in life, so in death, the agony continues and brings new jubilation to the believer, a torture of the very soul, bare and pure as it should be. And so, the chosen few of the One True God gain the unique blessing on the whim of their great patron to not pass into his gardens of idyllic, excruciating pain, but to remain as a bare soul in the mortal realm - a ghost for all intent and purposes, holy in the eyes of the wailing suplicants. With the essence of unfiltered suffering it can feel it all to the very core and share it to those, who satisfy their god with pious display of self-mutilation, flaggelation and unique forms of pain. It is said that the ghastly lantern of this spirits shines the brightest when the screams of the tortured is heard, as the sound of bodily harm fuels it and keeps it alight in the darkness of dull sensations that suffuse the mundane, mortal life... Glory be!

#monstermonth #monstermonth2019 #monster #creature #ghost #spirit #tormented #monochrome #art #digital art #digital drawing #daily art #daily challenge #challenge #art challenge #august #2019 #posterra

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sidespromptblog · 6 years ago

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Blank: Part 12

Summary: Logan is logic no more, now all that is left is Apathy.

One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Thirteen, Fourteen, Fifteen, Sixteen

“I appreciate the fact that you do actually seem genuinely upset for what you have to do.” Apathy said to Patton, it hadn’t taken ten minutes to come up with a plan, but rather much longer to decide who exactly should do what.

While touching Apathy and causing him an excruciating amount of pain was something that none of them honestly wanted to do, Patton quite surprisingly had volunteered, considering that he was the one who had managed to hold onto the emotionless side for the longest out of all of them. Of course, there were other things too that needed to be solved, which was why they were inside of Virgil’s room, at least for as long as Patton and Roman could stand to be in it. The room had an almost immediate effect on them, while the stress and anxiety just seemed to roll off Apathy without a single problem. Unlike them, he was actually fine.

“Of course I feel bad Apophis, I..I didn’t know that it hurt you at first. I didn’t know that something as simple as a hug would hurt so badly.” Patton confessed as they both sat on the spider web covered couch, their shoulders brushing together in such a way that the effects of Virgil’s room didn’t seem nearly as bad as before. “I should have listened when you said stop, and I didn’t. For that I am sorry, I’m sorry for not listen and..and for what happened after that.” The moral side’s eyes trailed down to the other’s bandage covered side, and Apathy shifted on the couch so that the bandages were once again hidden from sight.

“It’s...do not concern yourself with it Mor..Patton.” Once again Apathy gave the tiniest grimace as he straightened himself up, “I reacted poorly as well, as long as we both acknowledge that, then we should move on from the mistake and learn.” A sappy little smile curled onto Patton's face as he bobbed his head happily, the faintest traces of happy tears welling up in his eyes, before he hastily brushed them away.

“Yeah...yeah.” He murmured, leaning his shoulder just a little bit more against Apathy’s feeling the air of anxiety flowing away from him the closer he stayed to the other.

The both of them were silent for a while longer, staring ahead as Roman and Virgil were talking in the middle of the room. Roman obvious getting more and more stressed out by his role in the plan, as he gestured wildly to the tool that Virgil had in his hands. His lips were tugged down into a frown.

“I don’t know if I can do this Virge. I told him not even a few hours ago that I loved, and now I’m going to hit him with a baseball bat. What kind of message does that get across to him?” Roman frantically stated, wringing his wrists as he feverishly paced back and forth through the dark cobweb covered room. Back and forth. Back and forth. Up until the moment that Virgil stopped him, his hand bracing against the princely side’s shoulder to stop him dead.

“Well I haven’t told him yet, so I do it.” Virgil cracked a grin, attempting to ease Roman somewhat by his promise, they had both worked some things out in the hours that Logan had been gone, the both of them coming to some very firm conclusions.

“You’re alright with that?” Roman muttered, letting his own hand rest atop the one that had lightly been placed on his shoulder, the nod that he got from Virgil was all that needed and wanted. As he finally allowed his shoulders to slump in relief, he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t willingly hurt Logan again, not after his words, just words alone, had struck stuck a deep chord with Logan and had hurt him so much.

He would never have been able to do it, not again, they all knew that.

Patton watched them stand together, with Virgil resting the bat against the wall before he pulled Roman in for a hug. Glancing over to Apathy, he saw the other watching the interaction as well, although with a much more bland and almost bored look on his face. He didn’t seem interested in what they were doing, especially as he glanced away the moment that Roman’s and Virgil’s lips brushed against one another. His eyes met Patton’s, and he was looking away again. Very uncomfortable then.

“If I may ask Apophis…” Patton hesitated for a moment, drumming his fingers on his knees as they continued to sit together. “When we ran into the room, I saw..a..you putting something into your pocket. If I’m not asking too many questions, what was it?” The very moment that Apathy stiffened Patton knew that he had touched some kind of raw nerve under Apathy’s steel exterior, and he nearly took it back, ready to tell the other that he didn’t have to answer if he didn’t want to.

Until Apathy took in a steady breath, “It is a bottle, it contains who I used to be in the mindscape,” Moving one hand into his pocket he pulled out the dreadfully tiny bottle that was secured with a thin silver chain around it, “It holds...my emotions.” He confessed, and Patton felt himself inhaling sharply at it. Emotions and Apathy of all things, he had never once stopped to considering it, although it did make sense considering that the other had never let on about it. As it was clearly a secret. “I used to be…” Apathy’s lips turned down into a deep-set frown his other hand gripping his pale ripped jeans tight as his shoulders stiffened and locked into place. “I was once Empathy.”

With the whisper, out came the truth that he had kept buried for so very long, and Patton felt his mouth drop open for a second. Before he instantly shut it with a soft snap, merely letting Apathy continue before he ruined their little moment.

“I used to feel things, I remember that I used to feel things. But..but I stopped, because…” Despite not feeling a single shred of emotion at that moment Apathy felt his mouth get drier and drier as he went to carry on. Just to immediately jerk in surprise as Patton’s hand tenderly squeezed his knee, the look on the moral side’s face telling him to continue when, and only when he felt ready. Although truthfully he didn’t think that he would ever feel ready. “I opened myself up to someone..someone who wasn’t Logan so many years ago when Thomas was younger, and I got hurt.” He softly confessed, “I got hurt, and so I decided to stop when I could no longer handle the pain. But..but even now, I still can’t handle pain, so what is even the point?”

Pain clawed at Patton’s heart like a savage beast, even if Apathy spoke the words in the way that a fourth grader was reciting an essay in front of the entire class, he of all people knew that it didn’t mean such a thing hadn’t hurt. He knew that pain, he knew it so damn well, and it hurt to know that he wasn’t the only one. Patton never wanted anyone to feel heartbreak such as he had, he never wanted someone else to feel as if their chest was caving in and they could no longer breathe properly.

He wished that no one in his family would ever feel that, but... Apathy had. And Apathy, although somewhat distantly, did know that pain, even if he cut himself off from it.

“Maybe,” Patton's voice began in a soft whisper, as his eyes trailed up to meet Apathy’s. “It means that you’re ready. You’ve suffered and you’ve learned from that suffering...maybe..maybe that is the point.”

Glancing over to Virgil and Roman, he got a single nod in confirmation. So, fixing a smile back onto his face, Patton jerked his head in the direction of the other two as he stood up brushing away the cobwebs that clung to him as both Virgil and Roman got into position. Standing in the middle of the room, Patton raised his hand sending Apathy one last genuinely sorry look.

“I’m sorry,” He murmured.

His hands grasped at Apathy’s face, and it took no time at all for the screaming to start, the blood-curdling screams to ring through the room and to echo throughout the entire mindscape.

It was awful truth be told, as Patton felt the icy sensation crawling its way up his arms, as the shrill unfiltered screams of pure agony rang in his ears. A sound that would stay with him forever, Apathy’s face twisted anguish the longer that Patton held on. Yet despite the absolute torture of fire flaying against his skin, and the sensation of ants biting and gnawing at his underlying muscles.

Apathy held tight to Patton, refusing to let the other release him. No matter what, he had told them before. No matter what happened they would not stop for anything.

Low and behold, the sound of hastening footsteps thundered down the hall.

Tagged:

@neko-ereri

@seas-space-and-stardust

@estraevelyn

@katatles-the-fish

@greeneggsandham1998

@ibelievewhatsontv

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@tea0-0stache

#apathy!logan #logan sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #prinxiety #apophis #apathy #hurt/comfort #angst

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kenzieam · 6 years ago

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Surrender to the Call - Chapter One (Bucky X Lev)

Rating: M (language, violence, mentions of torture and abuse, eventual smut, angst)

Genre: Drama/Angst

@captstefanbrandt @iammarylastar @kiiiimberlyriiiicker1995 @notimetoblog @captain-ariel-barnes @jaamesbbarnes @lancefvcker @bitsandbobsandstuff @softlybarnes @lovelybbarnes @buckitybarnes @bucky-plums-barnes @moonbeambucky @badassbaker @citylights221 @empress-of-boujee @tbetz0341 @chook007 @shynara51 @diinofayce @casestudy-mw @jewels2876 @damnaged-princess @everythingisoverrated @allmyfanficfaves @melgoodwin @clarabella960 @curvybihufflepuff @plaidcat4815 @angryschnauzer @wowspideyholland @sergeantwhitewolf@smilexcaptainx @shirukitsune @chook007

If I missed any tag requests, I apologize!!

*IF YOU WANT TO BE ADDED OR DELETED FROM THIS LIST, DM ME*

**Potential Triggers, please read with caution**

Hey guys…. so ‘The Call of the Void’ is over, and I ended it on a cliffhanger..... sorry about that. Here is the sequel ‘Surrender to the Call’.

Lev has been recaptured by HYDRA, will Bucky be able to save her this time?

All dialogue in BOLD is Russian.

*******************************************************************************************

A hoarse scream ripped from his throat, and his eyes snapped open as his body jolted painfully, heart hammering in his chest. Sweat coated his bare skin as he gasped, trying to slow his breathing, change the desperate wheeze to a slower, regular measure.

“Levi,” the word torn from his mouth, agonizing, tearing tender flesh as it passed and a sorrow and grief so heavy they were choking settled on his chest. He rolled to his side, trying to alleviate the torment, but it was futile.

Pushing wearily to sit upright, Bucky reached for a pair of sweats and a shirt, pulling them on mindlessly. There would be no more sleep tonight, Bucky was shocked he’d managed to close his eyes at all.

The common room was empty at first glance, but Bucky knew he was here and he wandered slowly to the chair facing the window, sitting heavily beside his friend.

Steve jolted, so lost in his thoughts that he hadn’t heard Bucky approach. He didn’t bother to wipe away the tears trailing down his cheeks, they would continue to flow anyway, and soon Bucky would be joining him.

“Anything?” Bucky mumbled, the hope in his voice long since gone.

Steve shook his head. “The report was useless. Tony is trying again, but he’s running out of favours.”

Bucky nodded, more a reflex than anything else.

“She’s out there.” Steve replied, his voice fighting to be strong, cracking anyway.

“It’s been four weeks Steve, God knows what they’re doing to her right now-” Bucky broke off, fighting a sob. The full brunt of the anguish he’d been holding back since waking from his nightmare crashed down on him then, and he gave in to the misery, hardly able to breathe through the tears. After a moment, he felt Steve rest his head against his, and his friends' tears joined his own.

*********************************************************************************************

“She is strong.” The voice held an faint edge of respect, a hard bite of frustration. “Again.” He commanded.

The machine powered up, a high-pitched whine filling the air.

Levi, clad only in a sweat-soaked muscle shirt and cargo pants, tensed, eyes going wide as the memory suppressor fired through her again, lips curling back from the bite guard as she started to scream in agony, panic filling her eyes as the last of her memories of Bucky, of the Avengers, of her life were ripped away.

She slumped, only half-conscious in the restraints as the machine wound down. Flickers danced in her mind, flashes of a handsome brown-haired man, his almost supernatural blue eyes, a smile that she knew was just for her-

“Again.”

*********************************************************************************************

Bucky shivered, ears ringing, dust clouding his lungs, his limbs jerked spasmodically with residual shock. He coughed violently, wincing at the pain. Half-crushed by fallen debris, he could hardly move, hardly piece together what had just happened. Then it hit him, like a freight train.

“Why do I feel like I'm in a movie?”

“What?”

“It looks.... Staged! Like this is a -”

A trap.

A goddamn HYDRA trap, and they had walked right into it.

HYDRA had been lying in wait, laid the deception and, lulled by time, the team had given them exactly what they’d wanted.

Levi.

Bucky could sense that she was nowhere near him anymore. Beyond his enhanced senses, he just felt when Levi was near him, like a low-level charge... and it was gone.

HYDRA had taken their experiment back.

Bucky threw his head back and screamed, a gut-wrenching, blood-chilling, heart-breaking wail of absolute devastation.

*******************************************************************************************“Ready.” The technician reported.

“Corporeal.... Ravenous.”

Levi jolted in her restraints, head still swimming. Something about these words was wrong- NO!

“N-no!” She fought to protest, too disoriented, too weak to make an impact. The voice continued in emotionless Russian.

“Twilight.”

“No. NO!” Levi managed to scream, but it was getting harder to remember just what she was screaming for-

“Pure.... Evergreen.... Forge.”

“Bucky! Buck-...”

“Deviate. Fracture. Sister. Sorrow...... Welcome back, soldier.”

“Ready to Comply.”

**********************************************************************************************

“Goddammit!” Bucky raged, throwing all his frustration into his arm, his fist connecting with the heavy bag. The suffering chain finally snapped and the bag flew, splattering on the floor of the training area and hemorrhaging sand all over the floor. “It’s been four fucking months! Where is she?!”

Steve stayed silent. No one knew, and the team had worked itself past the point of insanity to find out; but Levi had all but disappeared. It was too painful to contemplate what Levi had potentially experienced at HYDRA’s hands these past months, and so Steve didn’t, throwing himself into exploring every last avenue, every last dark corner. Every lead had been followed up on, every file and report reexamined for fresh information, the team attacking and raiding any potential source of information, every potential HYDRA hideout, every abandoned base.

Nothing.

The team was unrecognizable in their grief, but none had changed more than Bucky. The only thing keeping him going was the drive to find Levi, to rescue her. Memories of his own tortures, speculation of what Levi was being subjected to haunted him constantly. He hardly slept, collapsing from abject exhaustion every few days, twitching and thrashing awake with guttural screams mere hours later.

He ate, but only to maintain his frame and power so he could deliver vengeance when Levi was found. His workouts and training had become hard to watch, the drive of a dangerously obsessed man with only one goal in mind.

He would find Levi, his soulmate; and he would tear apart and drink the blood of her captors.

Tony had called in every favour owed, begged and did deals for even more, turning the globe inside out. Money was no object, nothing was too outrageous to utilize, but still there was no trace.

Staggering, Bucky fell heavily to his knees; dropping his head, his hair now shaggy and unkempt, into shaking, bloodstained hands. Steve’s enhanced hearing picked up the sound of sobs being desperately fought back and his heart broke further for his friend.

Bucky had finally believed himself deserving of happiness, had finally found the person who completed him, who soothed and healed his damaged soul and loved him back every bit as strongly as he loved them; and now, the man who’d lost his whole life at one point, had lost it again.

It wasn’t fucking fair.

And, even if they did manage to find Levi this time, which was looking more and more unlikely with each passing day... what would they find? What shattered, broken, devastated wreck would they encounter; what brainwashed monster, with no memories of Bucky or her friends, only the orders to destroy them?

Movement at the corner of his eye startled him and Steve glanced over, surprised to see Tony approaching. Tony was rarely seen outside of his office or his lab; either searching tirelessly for Levi or trying to decompress by tinkering. He hadn’t attended a family dinner in weeks, not that the team held any sort of lighthearted gatherings anymore anyway. Tony’s eyes were wild, sweat on his face, clothes wrinkled and rumpled; this wasn’t anything new, not since Levi was taken at any rate, but the stench of dread on him was.

“Tony? What-”

“Steve-” Tony broke off, swallowing hard. “You need to come see this.”

This too made Steve instantly fearful. Whatever this was, it had disconcerted Tony enough to make him act completely out of character, and the man who normally would have had FRIDAY call, or texted Steve had instead thought only of running and finding the man personally.

“What is it-” He broke off with a grimace as Tony’s claw-like fingers gripped his forearm painfully. Unspoken dread, horror and anguish showed in Tony’s dark eyes and Steve felt the beginnings of real terror. Stumbling, he followed the billionaire as he all but dragged the Captain from the room.

*********************************************************************************************

It couldn’t be. It couldn’t...... no.

“You think it’s her?” It was a pointless question.

“You don’t?” The barest hint of Tony’s natural sarcasm bled through.

“God, I wish it wasn’t. But it has to be.... That’s why they took her, right?”

Tony nodded soberly, turning his attention to the flat screen.

AMERICAN EMBASSY IN RUINS the headline scrolled. The commentator sat speechless, mouth opening and closing, stumbling over her words. THE EMBASSY OF THE UNITED STATES, LOCATED IN MOSCOW, HAS BEEN DESTROYED IN WHAT WITNESSES CALL ‘AN APOCALYPTIC-LIKE EVENT’.

Another monitor showed the carnage, unfiltered and raw. Tony’s access to live feeds not available to the public hammered home the severity. This was not what the public would see, they would be fed a sanitized version.

Blackened, still twitching bodies littered the ground. Burning people, their visible skin blistering and peeling off in raw strips staggered mindlessly. Others sat, stunned, holding bloodied rags to ruined skulls, or lay flat-out, brain dying but still making the body’s limbs move in spastic, random jerks.

INITIAL ESTIMATES SAY 340 DEAD, ADDITIONAL 200 INJURED, 500 STILL UNACCOUNTED FOR.

Ice cold fear trickled down Steve’s spine. Tony looked like he would be physically sick.

“It can’t be her, it....”

“It’s her.” A new voice spoke, guttural and savage. Steve turned to see Bucky entering the office. His eyes were red-rimmed, jaw clenched. “They took her and turned her back into a killer.”

NO SUSPECTS AT PRESENT, REBEL GROUP ‘PEOPLE’S VOICE’ IS CLAIMING RESPONSIBILITY, INTELLIGENCE SOURCES SAY GROUP NOT LARGE ENOUGH TO CARRY OUT SUCH AN ATTACK, PRESIDENT IS APPRISED AND HAS BEEN MOVED TO UNDISCLOSED, SAFE LOCATION.

“Jesus,” Steve mumbled, numb with shock.

“HYDRA is declaring war on the United States Government, and they used Levi to fire the first shot.” Tony announced, his voice bleak.

*********************************************************************************************

“We can’t wait any longer!” Bucky raged, pacing. His fists clenched and unclenched spasmodically.

“We still don’t know where to look!” Steve shouted back, breathing heavily.

“Anything’s better than just standing here, waiting to hear about the next attack!” Bucky roared, slamming his metal fist into the wall. The metal gave with a groan under his savagery, the normally quiet whirring of Bucky’s metal arm rising to a screech as the advanced prosthetic strained under the onslaught. Bucky stared at his metal hand in silence, chest heaving, flexing the fist a few times until the mechanical sounds settled. This seemed to break through his fury and he turned back to face the rest of the team, jaw clenched and eyesf lowered, but no longer radiating dangerous violence.

“That’s why we’re here, reviewing the information again.” Nat spoke up now. “What do we know for sure?”

Tony turned in his chair, pointing a tiny remote at a bank of flat screens. Twelve simultaneous images appeared.

“Okay, attack number one... the US Embassy in Moscow.”

The team winced, forcing themselves to watch the footage. The final body count had been just over 500, with 325 injured and over 200 considered missing because what remained was simply too destroyed to identify.

“Two... the Embassy in Paris. Not as many dead this time, but the Secretary of State was hit this time. What’s the last update of his status?”

Wanda spoke up, tapping at a tablet, her voice subdued. “No longer in a coma, looks like permanent and devastating brain damage though.”

The footage continued, the stakes raising with each new image. HYDRA was steadily eroding the US government with coordinated, guerilla-like attacks, and no amount of preparation seemed to help. The country was at the brink of war, with no idea where to point the missile. Speculation ran rampant, but there was never enough evidence. Faint, vague, blurry images from security cameras surfaced occasionally, showing potential leads, but nothing more could be determined.

“A solitary figure was caught on closed circuit cameras entering the Embassy approximately 15 minutes before the first explosion and exiting approximately 11 minutes later,” a newscaster in the latest footage reported, twelve copies of her face speaking from the flat screens as the team watched.

Tony froze the screen. “It’s always the same, if any cameras catch sight of her, it’s always blurry and indistinct. It has to be deliberate...”

“Setting her up to eventually take the fall?” Steve wondered.

Tony nodded soberly. “Looks that way. It’s not looking like HYDRA’s planning on keeping her long-term. This is their big move.”

Bruce cleared his throat, obviously already regretting what he was about to say. “Okay, say we manage to find Levi, and recover her... the government is going to want their pound of flesh, someone to punish for this.”

“So, either HYDRA disposes of her, or our own country will.” The bitterness in Steve’s voice was startling.

“But nobody’s been identified yet,” Tony continued. “I’ve had FRIDAY monitoring everything, and Lev hasn’t been identified, no one can even say with confidence yet whether the ‘solitary figure’ is male or female. CNN dedicated a three-hour spot to a panel of experts debating that and they still couldn’t decide. If we can keep that secret, we can recover her.”

“So...” Steve cut in, an edge of hope in his voice, “if we get Lev before HYDRA deserts her, and before anyone figures out it’s her, we might be able to-”

Bucky suddenly leap to his feet and, without another word, stormed from the room. Silence followed him, and the team glanced uncertainly at each other. Bucky had been a volatile powder keg ever since Lev’s abduction, but with the mounting evidence of the evil HYDRA was forcing her to commit, he’d become downright mercurial, swinging crazily from wild anguish and sorrow to near murderous rage and anger. The walls shook as he slammed the door behind him and a muffled roar of frustrated rage drifted back to their ears.

Steve stood slowly. “Give me a few minutes. We need to discuss this as a team.”

Tony nodded soberly, looking back down at his tablet. “FRIDAY? Anything new?” He asked the AI as Steve left the room.

It wasn’t hard to follow him. Even without Steve’s enhanced hearing Bucky was in no way attempting to be quiet. Dull thuds and booms filled the air, Bucky seemed to be randomly slamming his fists into the walls as he raged down the corridors, and Steve could hear the occasional growl or snarl.

“Buck! Stop!” Steve moved into a jog and, turning a corner, found Bucky leaning heavily against the wall, chest heaving. His knuckles were bloody, fists flexing. “I know it’s hard Buck, but we’ve gotta make a plan, if we can find a way to recover Levi--”

“And what, punk?” Bucky barked. “Bring her back here and try to put her back together? Then what, she figures out she’s responsible for almost a thousand deaths and we have to watch her go through that?”

“What other option is there?” Steve’s voice rose with incredulity. “You’re giving up?”

“No.” All the ire and rage were gone from Bucky’s voice, and only bone-deep misery remained, he sagged further against the wall, bowing with anguish. “But I’d rather she was dead then have to live with that on her conscience. It’ll break her.”

Steve fell into stunned silence, his baffled retort dying on his tongue. They’d all been so consumed with trying to rescue Lev, they’d failed to consider whether she’d want to be saved once she realized what she’d done.

“HYDRA knows they only have this one shot with her,” Bucky continued. “They’re going for it all; even if Lev lives, they’ve destroyed her.” The anguish in Bucky’s voice was thick, and tears glimmered on his cheeks. “I’d rather lose her, have her die and leave me here alone than see her try to live with that in her mind. She doesn’t deserve that burden, she never did.”

“No.” Steve cut in bitterly, hitting his fist against the wall as he leaned heavily against it, across the corridor from Bucky. “No. You came back from that, she will too.”

Bucky lifted his head, and the bleak expression in his eyes broke Steve’s heart. “You have no idea what I live with... every day. I’m willing to sacrifice my happy ending if it saves her from this.” His hand drifted to his chest, curled against his heart and he shuddered, exhaling heavily.

Steve was momentarily unable to speak, what do you say to that? Bucky was willing to lose Lev, let go of his soulmate to spare her this pain, what greater sacrifice was there for love?

“Buck, I...” he trailed off. “Lev deserves the chance to decide that for herself.”

Bucky winced, his thoughts clear on his face. And then what? Lev decides she can’t live with this weight, and he has to deal with her leaving, disappearing somewhere? Or worse, her suicide? Finding her, cold and gone, already past the mortal coils where he can’t follow, clutching her lifeless body to his chest as he broke down completely? Suddenly, his knees gave out and Bucky collapsed to the floor, sitting heavily, dropping his head forward into his hands.

Steve hesitated, the anguish around Bucky was thick, suffocating, then he stepped forward and slid down the wall to sit beside him.

“We have to try.”

*********************************************************************************************

The alarm went off suddenly, startling Bucky out of a fevered nightmare; he lay there a moment, just panting, trying to collect his thoughts but then FRIDAY was speaking, voice booming.

“All team members report to briefing room immediately!”

Still trembling, more on a soldier’s autopilot right now than anything else, Bucky rolled out, snagging a t-shirt and pulling it on as he left the room, barefoot, jogging towards the stairs. As he hit the right floor he broke into a sprint, meeting Steve approaching from the other way. The confusion on the blonde's face said he had no idea what was going on either; but Bucky felt a suffocating dread. This was about Levi, had she been identified? Captured?

Tony didn’t even wait for everyone to sit before he was speaking. “We got a lead, it’s not much, but it’s something.”

“On Lev?” Nat gasped.

“Like I said, it’s not much, but I’m taking it.... sit down.” He flapped his hands at the team where they’d frozen in shock at his declaration and they shuffled quickly to chairs.

The screens filled with a barrage of images. “There is strong reason to believe that the secret location of the President’s family has been leaked inadvertently. Obviously, Madame Pres isn’t taking any chances and is arranging a rush transfer for the first husband and her kids. Based on the evolution of the attacks, I believe that Lev is going to target them next. This gives us a chance to intercept. I know, it’s not much, but it’s a strong possibility and I think we need to move on it.”

“With the President’s family as bait?” Bruce asked incredulously.

“When you put it that way, it sounds bad,” Tony grumbled. “But yeah.”

“Where are they now?” Steve asked, all business.

“We only have the coordinates,” Tony answered, and a location appeared on the screens.

“It looks like a warehouse district, in any random city.”

“It’s Philly, but yeah. They were going for random and unexpected.”

“Okay, and where do we come in?” Clint asked, studying the image, rubbing his chin with his hand.

“Half of the President’s advisors want a full armored guard escort, basically a lineup of tanks to lumber the family out of there, and the other half wants an above top-secret in and out. I think they need both, one as the red herring, the other real.”

“And we watch both, ready for Lev to attack either way?”

“If she’s even going to be sent out for this.” Bucky spoke for the first time. “This might be a wild goose chase.”

“Maybe,” Tony agreed, surprisingly amiable. “But it’s the only lead we have, and there isn’t much else HYDRA can do at this point. If they succeed and take out the first family, it pretty much guarantees they win, the President will either break down, or knee-jerk retaliate, and either way, the pricks will be ready. I get the strong feeling this is what they been building to the whole time. Take away everything until the President has nothing left to lose.”

“So, we’re going rogue then,” Steve replied, his voice rising as he began to agree more and more with the decision. “We don’t report, we don’t let anyone know; that way, if there is a mole in the government, they can’t alert HYDRA.”

“It was a software fail, not a mole.”

“I’m not taking that chance, from now on, we assume sabotage.”

The team fell uneasily silent. HYDRA had infiltrated the highest levels of government before, had they again?

“We need a plan, and I have to talk with the President, we need to secure Lev’s safety if we’re successful.” Tony’s voice broke in. “Whatever we decide, the family is being extracted within the hour.”

“Divide in two, one team per extraction... and prepare for war.” Steve replied.

*********************************************************************************************

Bucky shifted his weight, grip tightening on his rifle. Nearby, Steve eyed him warily. Two stories below, at ground level, a nondescript SUV idled. An old coal transport tunnel linked the nearby warehouse with another one across the block, and the first family was due to emerge from the inky depths of the underground any second, then creep through the abandoned building to the door before scrambling carefully into the vehicle. Six blocks away, a full armored escort rumbled, flanked by innumerable police and secret service.

The red herring, the decoy.

Despite the team’s reluctance, the President and her advisors had chosen this. Tony and Steve wanted the family to be protected by the armored transports, knowing HYDRA was both skilled and cynical enough to suspect a decoy, and would be searching for the real hand-off, but they’d lost. The best they could do now was watch and wait, do their best to help. Maybe, just maybe Lev would be set loose on the tanks. It was a long shot, HYDRA was smart, and they could have sniffed out this trap already, but maybe not; maybe, for once, luck would be on their side.

Half the team watched the tanks, the other half waited within comm distance of Steve and Bucky. Tony led the other team, managing to look grim even with his full suit on.

Tension radiated off Bucky like body heat, and his jaw was clenched so hard Steve worried he’d shatter his teeth. Bucky was way too off balance to be here, but there was no other choice. Other than completely incapacitating the former assassin, there was no way to keep him away. His complete and sole focus was finding and recovering Lev.

A hastily made agreement was in place. Without identifying Lev as the attacker, Tony had negotiated with the President, asking for and receiving her promise that if the team kept her family safe, the President would allow them to do with Lev what they wished. In other words, the team would deal with the fist of the attacker, while the government would turn and go for the head, attacking HYDRA with everything they had while the Avengers kept the organization’s most dangerous weapon subdued. It was a shaky agreement, and would dissolve if anything bad happened to the first family; but the President was aware of HYDRA’s mind-control experiments, realizing this was again the case and was willing to let the weapon go for the bigger picture. Just how Tony had managed this, what it had cost him, Steve didn’t know, but there was no time to ask.

The door at ground level opened, and a wary head poked out, scanning back and forth down the deserted alley.

Steve tensed, heart beginning to hammer in his chest, if something was going to happen, if Lev had guessed their decoy, it would happen now.

Movement, in the shadows of a nearby roof; without his enhanced senses, Steve would have missed it. The way Bucky’s breath hitched told Steve he’d seen it too. Swallowing hard, he aimed his rifle. There was no way they would be able to get closer without Lev noticing, she needed to be disabled first.

Steve whispered into his comm, readying the team. Six blocks away all hell broke loose, HYDRA attacking the convoy and Steve realized with lurch that the final battle had begun.

The next few minutes seared forever in Steve’s mind, both over in the blink of an eye and seeming to drag on forever.

The muffled sound of a silenced shot, Bucky suddenly sprinting towards Lev, silent and single-minded. Lev disappeared into the shadows and Steve followed his friend, adrenaline almost painfully pulsing through him.

The rest of the team descended on the first family and Steve heard the beginnings of a firefight, then all other sounds faded away. A scuffle drew his attention and he ripped around a corner on the roof, seven buildings over from where they started, shield up, not knowing what to expect.

Lev had Bucky down on the ground, a knife to his throat; he was frozen, paralyzed beneath her, eyes wide, his chest heaving, brushing against her shins as she crouched above him. Her eyes were hard, determined as they lifted to meet Steve’s. Her gorgeous auburn mane had been shorn off, close to the scalp and, as her icy gaze met Steve’s, he saw a fresh vertical scar bisecting her right eye, marring her once perfect visage. Dropping her gaze again, she pulled her arm, ready to slash across Bucky’s throat, more than likely decapitate him with the force she was capable of and Steve did the only thing he could.

He had no idea if Lev was just so focused on hurting Bucky that she didn’t notice, or if, in some subconscious way, she wanted to be stopped, but she didn’t twist out of the way fast enough to evade the flying shield and it slammed into her skull with a dull thud, knocking her away from Bucky’s prone body.

Steve caught the tang of fresh blood as he sprinted towards them and a shiver of dread hit him as he saw Bucky struggle to sit up, pressing a gloved hand to his throat, thick blood welling between his fingers; Lev may not have been able to deliver a killing blow, but she’d definitely injured him.

Bucky pushed aside Steve’s fretting fingers and coughed, blood flecking his lips. “Help Lev,” he gritted, teeth stained red.

“But-”

“Help her! Get her out of here, I'm fine!”

Steve was about to disagree when Nat appeared, breathless and disheveled. Her eyes snapped back and forth between her nearly unrecognizable sister, still sprawled unconscious, to Bucky, still coughing and choking, glaring daggers at Steve.

“He’s right.” Her voice was decisive. “Get Lev out of here, I’ve got Barnes.”

Nodding tightly, Steve complied, scooping Lev’s limp body into his arms and sprinting away.

*********************************************************************************************

The glass rattled worriedly in the frame and Steve looked up warily before glancing to his side. Bucky sat nearby, pale and withdrawn, a fresh bandage around his throat. Steve had managed to get Lev back to the quinjet and properly restrained before she woke back up, but she’d been raging ever since, deaf to everyone’s pleas and, when she did actually verbally answer, snarling in guttural Russian.

They were back in the sub-basement of the Tower, in the same detention cell that Lev had first been placed in. Tony had been gone for hours, negotiating with the President, fulfilling whatever end of the bargain he’d struck on Lev’s behalf. The first family had been whisked away to safety, but Steve was unsure if the team would be called back into action to help hunt down HYDRA, apparently an agent had been captured during the attack, and the President was, at this point, not above ‘physical and psychological persuasion’ to get him to talk.

Another bellow, the glass rattled again and Bruce looked up from his tablet, swallowing hard. “Her readings are off the charts, they’ve been chemically enhancing her.”

It was easy to see, although Lev had been in amazing shape before her capture, Olympic athlete level, she had at least an extra twenty pounds of corded muscle on her now, and her movements, although still graceful, were jerky, almost feral.

“She’s been pumped full of anabolic steroids.” Bruce continued, tapping at the screen. “And, at this point, I can’t rule out cognitive treatments to increase aggression.”

“What do you mean by that?” Bucky demanded, nerves strung tight.

Bruce sighed heavily. “If I had to guess, she was restrained and made to watch unfiltered footage of carnage, like those chimps at the beginning of 28 Days Later; that, coupled with the steroids, has transformed her into...” he faltered, trying to find the right words.

“A She-Hulk.” Bucky supplied, his voice raspy.

“Without the radiation, yes. And they re-integrated her previous training. She’s a Winter Soldier again, 2.0.”

“So, she’s triggered by the same words again?”

Bruce nodded. “This is probably what they would have done to her before, if her cryo-stasis hadn’t been compromised.”

Lev appeared in front of the glass, eyes unnervingly finding the men. Although the glass was one-way only, and all Lev could see was her own mirrored image, she knew they were out there. She spat angrily in Russian, and Bucky winced.

“What did she say?” Steve asked, heart sinking; Bucky looked like he’d just had his heart torn out.

He took a deep, steadying breath and answered. “She said ‘You are still my mission, Asset’.”

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