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fraugwinska · 2 months ago

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Part 2 of the Alchemist series - No smut today,but I had this idea in my head and couldn't continue NOT writing it. And don't worry - those two will have time enough in Part 3 for some biological studies! :> TW: Emotional turmoils, Graphic depictions of torture and violence Read at your own discretion. As always minors - please exit to the right, DNI, this is an 18+ space

Your assistant flinched when you threw another rack of test tubes against the walls, the black, polished tiles to your feet covered in shards of glass and bubbling, oil-like liquids.

"M-Ma'am, please, ", she pleaded, kneading the pink, naked tail that peeked out of her lab coat nervously in her hands while she backed away as your grabbed the big Erlenmeyer flask still sitting over the bunsen burner, fizzing as if in mockery. "i-it's better than number 52. Isn't that progress...?"

Failed. Again, you had failed.

"Idiots call it progress...", You held the flask up, cold flames of renewed anger licking down your spine. "I call it A FUCKING DISGRACE!"

The rat demon squeaked when the glass crashed on the floor as you howled in frustration, the black gas that evaporated with a hiss and the dark purple flames the substance evoked enough to make her run out the door and out of the laboratory with a sob, the sound of her heels clicking in the hallway a grim farewell and final goodbye to a fairly good assistant.

You slumped back against a work bench and put your hands in the pockets of your coat, struggling with your breathing to calm down. The painful hunger in you scratched at your insides, this insatiable need that appeared ever since...

Ever since you returned to your laboratory that day, ever since your last encounter with the Radio Demon. The image of Alastor and his shadow flashing up in front of you. How you were deceived and subdued by him, outsmarted by him and most humiliating, how you had liked it. It should've left nothing but disdain and anger inside you, instead it left an aching want, a restless desire for filling the gaping hole of knowledge you had been faced with as well as your paradox craving for another fight ending inevitably into your submission. Defiant to do something about the latter, you had begun to at least try to satisfy the first.

You were usually okay with failure as part of the scientific progress. A failed experiment only meant an additional tool in your hand on your surefire way to success. But never did success seem so impossible to you. Every new try of recreating the shadows that had so efficiently overpowered you felt like a rerun of your previous one. You had exhausted your knowledge, rewritten the same hypotheses over and over and burned through five assistants since. These angry outbursts were so unlike you - but as the number of failed experiments rose so did your temper, and the higher your anger, the harder it became to concentrate.

Alastor haunted your mind, infiltrated your rationale with images of a teasing smile, flesh threatening to burst beneath black and sharp claws, burning red eyes staring at you from the wet heat of your core. You hadn't eaten in two weeks, hadn't slept in nearly as long, had spent all your waking hours locked away in here in a futile attempt of fleeing these emotions that were so obstructive to your work. You were obsessively reading your books, furiously rereading your notes, desperately starting test after test, trial after trial to try and satiate this thirst only to be left even more parched. You knew it wouldn't be long before you inevitably would have to drink, even if you knew it waould be poison.

"I can't go on like this..." you sighed into the deafening silence of your laboratory.

There was a certain pep in the Radio Demon's step as he walked through the streets of the Pentagram, humming to himself as sinners parted and hid away wherever he went. Alastor reached into the inside breast pocket of his overcoat, unfolding the little note that had sent him in high spirits and rereading it with impish glee.

'To: The Radio DemonRegarding: Our most recent encounter

Alastor, I hope this note will find you well. I'd like to discuss the possibility of a mutually beneficial arrangement regarding our personal and professional feud. If you agree to a meeting, a table at RAUM in the Entertainment District will be reserved tomorrow at 9 p.m. PST (Pride Standard Time)

Best Regards,The Alchemist'

He laughed to himself at the forced choice of words, the tenseness evident in every neatly drawn letter and the obvious refusal of showing even one hint of familiarity. He had known he'd just have to give the proverbial ball a little nudge - his little note so easily snuck into her lab coat by his shadow companion - and let it roll, patiently waiting long enough to see it finally crush the prideful, stubborn resistance of the little sinner known as The Alchemist in the end. Although, he had to admit it took longer than he had expected.

His spies had been useful in keeping track of her ego crumbling - the chimp, roach and gerbil sinners that she hired as assistants all painted him the same picture - that the poor woman descended more and more into restless obsession by trying day and night to solve the mystery of his shadowy companion. The last one of her henchmen, a meek little rat girl, added a curious detail to the usual report that had Alastor's self-confidence booming: That, on the rare occasion that she fell asleep on her workbench, the Alchemist seemed to writhe and whimper - calling out a name.

His name.

He could hear it, her voice, the usual dismissive contempt replaced with poorly repressed desire and urgency, breathing his name while rendered helpless and at the mercy of his hands and tongue. What a rush it had been, to see his rival and latest person of interest fall apart under his doing, breaking her stoic and methodical facade to reveal the raw and weak creature she was deep down. What a divine image, seeing the haughty, refractory Alchemist beneath him, squirming and gasping and panting beneath his touch that she begged for, seeing and feeling her whole body turn against her, reduced to a groaning heap. How delicious it had tasted, not just her, but the satisfaction in knowing he'd forever carry the taste of her and his victory.

But when the moment approached to end her, to finally wipe her off the face of hell, it spoiled in his mouth, turning from sweet into bitter. He had planned it to be his grand finale: To kill her after showing her blatant inadequacy compared to him, bound by his shadow and thoroughly humiliated - But he found himself unable to.

Rosie was the only one he told about that day, and her reply to his retelling had him brooding ever since.

"You know, Alastor - The only difference between hate and love is that hatred doesn't fear the death of the one at our mercy."

He had almost cursed at his oldest friend. The ridiculous idea alone was unsettling. Alastor never had interest in the concept of loving something or someone - he had felt no need to either. The methods he used were chosen due to this wretched urge he felt every time she had crossed his path. He hadn't been unfamiliar with these emotions stirring in him - but the intensity of them had him struggle, had him furious at the effect she had on everything that made him the powerful, ruthless overlord that he had become. To think this unhealthy fascination with her powers, how riled up and agitated he got just seeing her in her resulote disinterest in power or status, the joy he felt sparring with her as she held her fort against him had been anything other than feelings of rivalry. But hell had a habit of twists like this - that what he thought was hatred turned out just the opposite. He still wasn't certain how he'd handle this predicament, but her note had been the perfect catalyst to explore the potential this little change held for him.

Just as the clock tower of Pride's main city began to strike nine, his destination so close - Something wrapped around his ankles and wrists, and hadn't Alastor been so lost in his thoughts he would've had enough time and mind to dodge the cables that had slithered towards him. A second too late he realized just what building he was in front of, before he was violently dragged by the electrified strings, out of the street and into the darkness behind the blue sliding doors of 'VoxTech Enterprises'.

"I thought" he heard a familiar, suave voice resounding in the pitch black darkness around him as the doors slid close, dripping of malicious glee that had Alastor furious behind his smiling mask "that with old age comes wisdom, Al. Seems you've skipped that phase and went straight to senile."

Alastor heard Vox's laugh, amplified from every direction. His hands and feet were spread apart, leaving him hanging with no sense of direction or solid ground beneath him. Without light, summoning his shadow was a useless endeavor - one of the only things Alastor regrettably shared with what was once a trusted partner not too long ago. And the only light was the laughably negligible red glow of his eyes, losing the battle against the black void around him. His best bet was to be buying time, so he decided to humor the fool until chance would show itself.

"Ah, no, I do quite remember your lack of imagination when it comes to these sorts of affairs." Alastor chuckled, a slight static distortion lacing his voice as the anger within him grew. "Glad to see that's at least one thing that hasn't changed."

Electricity burst from the wires that pulled him even further apart, sending shockwaves through him as Alastor's smile widened at Vox's inability to hide his rage.

"Mighty cocky for someone who's got his ass on the line, eh, old pal?" in the distance, a screen turned on, dim and flickering, showing the face of the smirking tv demon. "Tell me, Al, was it just stupidity that brought you right to my doorstep? Or did you already miss me that much?"

Alastor laughed mockingly, concentrating enough to at least create a shadow in the weak light around Vox's screen to smash it in before it dsappeared. "If I recall correctly, you were the one begging me not to leave, Voxxy. How is your face these days, by the way?"

The screen flickered as Vox's eyes went wild. "You motherf-"

"As to what brought me to these parts of our illustrious city," Alastor continued, gritting his teeth as another surge of electricity shot down his spine, making his shoulders jerk painfully in the tight cable's grip. "I was on my way to meet someone who is actually worth my while."

"Oh yeah? Well, they can send me a Thank-You-Note for saving them the disappointment your 'while' would've brought them." Vox sneered, a mocking smile appearing on the broken screen as he bared his teeth in a snarl. "Face it - You're done, Al. Finished. You can't do shit in here. I created this room specifically for you to die in - thanks for the intel, by the way. And believe me - I could kill you here and now, get rid of a fucking nuisance for everybody, and be called a hero for it. But for old time's sake, I'll offer you my deal once more." His joints cracked under the pressure of the pulling cables, and Alastor yanked in cold fury at them. Vox's voice was saturated with sadistic glee. "Join my team, be my second in command, my real partner this time and not a fucking uptight coward, and I'll spare you the humiliation of a slow, torturous and publicly viewed dea..."

A sudden boom had the cables and the screen shake and flicker, the image of Vox's face breaking up in pixels. Alastor felt his chest filling with a sudden eager anticipation of what - or who - the source of that explosion might've been. With a hiss, Vox's screen was restored to full resolution again, but his eyes were wide in confusion. "What the fuck was that?"

Alastor's laughter echoed across the room as another, louder explosion followed, along with panicked screams of pain and horror and he smiled over to the shocked overlord, heart beating with feverish euphoria. If the intensity of the detonations were any indicator, he was about to see a marvelous show of what true power looked like.

"It seems, old pal, that my date has arrived."

Vox didn't get to say anything else before one of the walls burst into its components and the room filled with the bright light of the neon signs illuminating the district, and amidst the clouds of dust settling, stood his darling alchemist. Her lab coat was stained in every beautiful shade of red, face and skin smeared with soot and the remnants of blood that wasn't hers, a look in her eyes that was so unhinged it made him shudder with all kinds of arousal, the aura around her glowing in a dangerous toxic green. Although her chest was heaving, there was no trace of exhaustion to her, only pure, cold rage.

"What the hell is going on? And who the fuck are you?!"

She didn't pay Vox any attention, walking up to Alastor as he ripped the remaining bits and pieces of cords and cables from his arms, her heels clacking loudly on the polished concrete floor.

"You are right on time, darling."

"And you were not - our table was canceled." Alastor had to refrain himself from giggling in feverish excitement as she walked past him, towards the stunned television demon that had been thrown into the back of the room by the force of the explosion and now leaned with his back against the wall, his expression mortified behind the cracked, flickering screen.

“Polyethylene, glass, sauter, copper, lead, platinum, silicone." Her voice was cold and calculating, each word a step closer and Vox shrunk away further into the wall behind him. Her face was neutral, a mask devoid of emotion and any trace of empathy or emotion, but her eyes sparkled full of life and fire. "But even though there are so many valuable building blocks in your electronic equipment - I can't say I appreciate the use."

She put her palm over Vox's monitor in an almost comforting gesture, her lips curling into a cruel smile as his casing started to melt and Vox screamed.

"Especially when it leaves me hungry and waiting for my dinner partner."

Alastor marveled at the beauty and precision of her strength and the effortless way she wielded it, her mind calculating every atom of Vox's technology, rendering the presumptous perfection of hell's television and phone industry to a wailing mess, his limbs and body twitching helplessly at the mercy of her touch, screen flickering with increasing speed the more damage she did. His pulse quickened, blood rushed deafeningly loud through his ears - She was dangerous and cruel and she was perfect, she was everything and so, so much more of anything he imagined and hoped her to be.

She let off Vox, his face half gone, his remaining speakers whimpering in agony and body trembling as she stood upright, looking down at the demon in disgust.

"Repeat this mistake and I will make sure I'll be there to slowly and painfully disintegrate you every time you start to respawn anew, Television Demon."

Alastor appeared beside her, making use of his shadows now that the requirement of light was covered, looking at the beaten form of his unfortunate rival with an amused laugh before taking his little alchemist's hand, breathing a kiss onto it with a smile.

"I apologize for the missed reservation, darling, but we can't have you left starving, can we? How about we relocate to my townhouse - I'll whip up a nice Pain Perdu while we discuss your... proposal, yes?"

When her face turned to him, her features slightly softened around the edges - barely noticeable to the untrained eye, but all too obvious to him, who had thought, dreamt and obsessed over her likeness enough times to see every tiny shift in her expression, even those one could interpret as her rare, discreet show of joy.

"I suppose that's an acceptable compromise."

It made the gnawing hunger inside him become all the more insatiable when she let him pull her closer, her hand still in his - warm and stained with remnants of Vox's fluids. He gave her the brightest of smiles as the destroyed room filled with radio static and his shadows swirled and wrapped themselves around them, shooting his wounded, rancorous ex-companion a sneering smile.

"I, again, have to disrespectfully decline your offer, my dear Vox. I'd rather invest my time into more..." He looked back at her, giving her an intense, heated gaze he refused to hide anymore, and the smile lingering on her lips growing into one that was just as sharp as his, and yet so much more endearing given its rarity. "...innovative propositions, I think is the right word."

Within a moment, the black swirls faded into the night, leaving nothing but the echo of his laughter and the shuddering, crying mess of the tv overlord behind.

Tagging for scientific purposes (based on comments/reblogs): @minkdelovely @macabr3-barbi3 @depressinglyobsessed @tywrites @mydickisjuicy

@littlebluefishtail @catticora @cosmiccandydreamer @anngray1369 @angeldustharmony

@jurijyuu @liz776 @selenezq

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