Beat
Prompt: music/ "it's us against the world my dear" taken from the pufftober2021 prompts by @may8elle
Characters: HIM and Sedusa
Content warning: character death and resurrection, swearing, prostitution, vague illusion to stds
a/n: I've been planning on writing something with Sedusa and HIM for a long while because I feel their relationship would be interesting, and figured now was as good a time as any! This is just one way I'd envision Sedusa's descent into evil. Lol most all of my ideas about her descent involve HIM.
As a warning, it's sort of shit. I sped through it because my pup wants to go on a walk!
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“Do you hear it—that one, two, three?” The entity moved around her, snapping its' claws to a beat only it could hear as it twirled her into the next set, “The next crescendo is here, my dear, come dance with me.”
“I haven’t danced in years,” Ima Goodwoman declined, stepping away from the smartly dressed demon, “I have—“
“Aw,” It cooed, long-legged steps quickly closing the distance she had created; a lobster-like claw caged her cheeks and squeezed, “but you used to be so good at it. What did they call you when you got up on that black, black stage—you know the one I’m talking about, right, don't you?”
They were moving again—one step to the right, a quick turn to the left—close to a perfect waltz with one step forward and one step back. Ima hadn’t moved like this in a long time. The dance was slow and practiced, and for a split second, she swore she heard the low thrum of a distant bass. Then, transfixed by the acidity in the entity's eyes—the power in its form—a dance she had once thought she had forgotten wormed its' way back into her muscle memory.
“Boogie and his boys in that dark, dark nightclub—" The demon droned on in a smooth, rumbling baritone, "—when you walked on the stage, your hips turned men to stone, when she danced, Sedusa, they said, could keep the pope glued to his seat.”
“Where am I?” She demanded, shaking her head free of the daze and pulling away from its grip, “Who are—h-how do you know me?”
“They used to dress you up, right? Jewels, money, anything you wanted?”
“I asked,” She hissed, backing away, but it matched her steps, gliding across the floor—in a state of perpetual dance—towards her, “who the fuck are you?”
“Did it make you mad?” The entity’s smile grew in size, “Did it make you mad when those snakes bit you in the back?”
Her eyebrows furrowed, “What—“
“They left you for dead when things turned to shit—Boogie and his boys, right?” It chuckled, “No more pretty underwear for Townsville’s biggest skank, right?”
She lunged for the bastard, but it spun away on the tips of its toes, laughing as she stumbled. Her heart pounded in her rib cage, and she gulped in a breath of air, willing herself with all her might to stay upright on her feet. She wasn’t used to standing like this anymore, or walking, or dancing. She couldn’t. Her heart couldn’t take it.
“Where am I?” Ima gasped, putting a hand to her heart, finding her pulse, “What is this?”
“I think you know.” Came a low whisper right in her ear. With the last bit of her strength, she swung a fist at the sound but only hit the air. With a cry, she landed painfully onto her knees.
“Get up, Ima, you don’t do that anymore, remember?” The entity quipped, pulling her up roughly by the arm from the floor.
“Careful,” she warned weakly, already imaging the purple of her bruises, “Just—just be careful.”
“Hmm?” It tilted its head, “Now, now, now, where did that fight go so suddenly?” The entity spun her in a lazy twirl, “What about that bite?” The spinning became faster and faster, “Don't tell me you're lacking in spite!”
“Stop!” She cried, dizzy and sick, “I said stop!” She brought a knee between its legs, but the creature didn’t bulk.
“Ah,” It said instead, smile ever-present, holding her steady as the room slowly stopped its dizzying spin, “there she is.”
“What are you?” She asked through gritted teeth, refusing to back down and break eye contact, slapping her hands hard against its' chest, “Answer me!”
Its’ eyebrows quirked up, and with a little “tee-hee” sort of giggle, it shrugged, grabbing at her hands to keep them still, “What am I, Ima? The answer all depends, my dear, on you.”
“That’s a shit answer,” She sneered.
It threw its head back and laughed, pulling her back into a slow sway. “It’s a shit question.” He answered as he turned her into the next step of the dance.
“How about a name then, huh?” She asked with the same bite in her tone as before, "Who the hell are you? How do you know me? Who I am?"
The entity danced them around the room, leading with ease. For a long breathless moment, it hummed along to a song she had never heard before until, finally, it spoke again, “How about you call me HIM. People tend to like that one. Humans are silly like that.”
She gasped, stumbling over their footing, but HIM didn’t mind. The demon continued to drag her along. “Does my reputation proceed me?” HIM’s voice rang high, “It tends to.”
“W-w-wh—“ She whispered, knowing fully that escape was futile. She was in the clutches of evil—fear paralyzed her.
"You're awed, no doubt," HIM ignored her stammering with a nod of its head, “of course, you are. Townsville wouldn’t be what it is without me, right?”
"The nightmare of nightmares." She whispered more to herself than to the entity something Boogie had once told her, but regardless, the utterance seemed to amuse HIM.
"Oh, that Boogie," HIM shook its head, "that one really knows how to flatter a girl, doesn't he?" HIM's voice went high to low in an instant, "That piece of shit."
Any other day, Ima would have foolhardily agreed, but her heartbeat kept quickening, and her chest kept tightening. Ima could admit she was afraid of death, but that fear paled in comparison to dancing with chaos itself. She hadn't prayed a day in her life, but she prayed then.
"You'd know that, wouldn't you? That he's a piece of shit." Then, HIM asked, "You sympathize with me, right?"
Some still-brave piece of her—the part dedicated to survival—nodded in agreement.
The entity's smile disappeared, and gently, HIM twirled her out of its hold. He kept her away at arm's length, keeping them linked together by their hands. She met HIM's gaze as evenly as she could muster until, finally, HIM pulled away completely.
"Ima, Ima, Ima" HIM tutted with a slight shake of Its head, staring straight at her chest, "the music stopped."
She floundered under his stare, confused until she registered the odd silence within her. With a horrified gasp, she slapped a hand to her chest, looking for her pulse; her heart, though, had gone still. Not a single beat was left.
"I died?" She asked.
"My condolences for your recent loss." HIM hummed, tilting its head to the side, "You must be devastated."
"But—but I-I didn't even notice?"
"Oh? No one told you?" HIM smirked, "That's the thing about being dead—you don't feel it. You're dead. You may have had a chance if you had health insurance," HIM tsked, "but whores don't have health insurance, do they?" HIM's smile was back, "Now, insurance, that was a good idea. Wish I could say it was my idea, but you little humans, sometimes you're all too smart for your own good."
"I'm not a whore!" She bit out before she could stop herself, still searching for a beat.
"You mean you weren't a whore," HIM corrected, "but you were."
"I'm a dancer." She argued.
"Oh sure, and how did you get that nasty little disease again? You know, the one that killed you?"
"Fuck you." She spat through her tears, "Fuck you!" She lunged for HIM but never made contact. It was as if she were moving through water, her vision tunneled, and a light called out to her by name.
There was a snap, and the tunnel disappeared.
"Dear, let me spoil it for you right now, that light looks pretty, but it's going down."
HIM's words froze her to her core. With horror, she realized she really was actually dead. And she wasn't going up.
"When you were a little girl, you wanted to be a ballerina, isn't that right?" HIM asked her suddenly, the sick smile plastered back on its face as the entity gestured to her outfit. The cheap hospital gown was now a beautiful red and black tutu.
"How—"
Her tutu warped and twisted into the red leotard teddy and fishnets she had worn when she had been a dancer at Boogie's clubs.
"I know most everything, darling, don't ask me how." HIM snorted, going through the synopsis of her life, "Your father hit you upside the head and told you no. So you ran away to prove him wrong, which I suppose, in a way, you did. You've always been a fantastic dancer, Ima, but you have shit taste in men." The entity paused in thought before tacking on, "Well, I guess you can blame that on your father too, huh?"
She stared wide-eyed as she processed HIM's words, speechless. When she blinked, HIM vanished, appearing behind her suddenly. Its claws clutched tightly onto her shoulders.
"I'll ask you one more time, Ima, how does that make you feel," HIM spoke in a low whisper, "knowing a guy like Boogie left you for dead? Threw you out on the streets? Made you do things for money that they promised you'd never have to do? How did that make you feel being putty in their hands? Just a throw-away toy?"
She thought of her life as HIM whispered in her ear. She remembered all of the atrocities she had faced, all of the broken promises, and the crushed dreams.
Then, she thought of her hair.
She didn't have hair anymore, not with her treatment; just like dancing, she hadn't had any hair in a long, long time. But when she did have hair, it had been beautiful, ink-black, with curls that bounced with every step.
It had been beautiful—she had been beautiful. That's why men had wanted her. And that's what men had taken from her.
"Well, HIM," She smiled, but it was far from sincere; her voice sardonic as murder played on her mind, "I guess it kind of turns a bad girl on."
"Well, well," HIM's smile split the entity's face into two as a dry chuckle escaped from its mouth, "I can help you with that."
Her head snapped to the right, meeting its eyes without fear, "How?"
"My hands, your bones, I won't let you fall to death," HIM explained in a cryptic way, "I'll make you as good as new, better even."
"What's the catch," She squinted, "there's always a catch."
There was a laugh, and in a puff of red haze, the entity disappeared from behind her. In a blink, HIM was again a few feet in front of her.
"No catch, you just owe me some of your newfound life. An acquaintance of mine, well, let's just say, he'll be conducting a science experiment soon that I just don't like, but, that's not here nor there. For now, Sedusa—" HIM extended its' claw towards her with a sinister smile, knowing already that she wouldn't refuse, "—it's us against the world, my dear, so why don't you come dance with me?"
The words stirred a dull painful thud from her chest that echoed in the silent space around them. She put a hand to her heart and breathed deeply, relishing in that feeling of life. Then, after a moment, she removed her hand from her heart and placed it in HIM's outstretched claw.
Ima Goodwoman screwed her eyes shut, counted out the beat—one, two, three—and right on her mark, Sedusa twirled into the waiting entity's arms.
HIM caught her with no hesitation, just as promised, but still, in a way—
—she fell.
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