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atherix · 1 year

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Midnight Alley Missing Scene

Y’all wanted to see it so here we go :D

This isn’t included in Midnight Alley because it messes with the flow of the story and isn’t absolutely plot necessitated, but here we are!

CW: Manipulation, a bit of mind control (depending on how you define “mind control”), death, also uh mindbreak I guess-

The other camp isn’t hard to find. Whoever they are, they don’t seem overly concerned about keeping hidden; the light of the fire, even in the dying night, is like a beacon in the shadows.

Scar, of course, knows this trick.

He moves around, away from the obvious entrance of the camp where the light shines brightest. He moves silently, the trees and brush blocking him from sight as he takes in the camp before him.

Three people sit around a firepit, the smell of salted meat cooking over the open fire. There is a device set up, facing the wide open entrance of the camp, and when a Zombie stumbles into the camp it shoots off a number of arrows in fast succession, ripping the Zombie apart before it can even groan.

“Disappointing, just a Zombie,” one of the people says, tossing down a bone into the fire. It cracks and splinters quickly. “Was hopin’ it’d be that cute little Hybrid we saw earlier. Bet its horns would fetch a decent price.”

Anger and hatred flares up in Scar’s chest, and he regrets not letting Grian kill them now.

(It’s fine. He’ll do so much worse than that.)

He pulls his Fairy lights closer to himself, letting them shine just a little brighter, and steps into the clearing. “Well, hello there,” he says, and immediately all three strangers are on their feet, loaded crossbows pointing at Scar. He simply smiles, seeing how they freeze before they can even consider letting the arrows fly.

“Who are you?” one of them demands, though their gaze is solidly trapped on a Fairy light. A strong will, he notes. He’ll need to weave a stronger compulsion for that one.

“Well, I was passing by and saw your campfire,” he says easily, and even knowing that they have seen him already in his own camp, they are unable to even think for a moment that he might be lying. Human minds are awfully fragile like that. He steps closer, easily reaching over and lowering the crossbow one of the strangers holds- fingers barely brushing the end. He raises a brow at the person who stares at him with wide eyes.

They look almost enchanted. Scar can remember a handful of times he’s seen that expression aimed at him, but no other time has it made disgust and anger and hatred twist up in his chest like this.

(How dare this person, who so casually wished for his son’s death, look at him like this.)

However, such an expression tells Scar it’s an easy in; there is no emotion easier to manipulate than infatuation, no desire easier to twist than lust.

A man who hates another will never fully trust, but a man who loves another will hardly ever doubt. It’s the perfect recipe.

He smiles.

(He’s never done this before. It feels dirty and wrong, but it’s easy. He can see any resolve they have slip, and he hasn’t even done anything yet.

He’s going to destroy them.)

“Perhaps you’d like to sit with us for breakfast?” the bandit suggests, and their companions- still struck by the Fairy lights- make a vague sound of discontent.

“Boss?” one of them utters, confused as the light in front of them flashes brighter. Whatever protest they had ready on their tongue dies before they can even form it.

“That sounds lovely,” Scar says, never breaking eye contact with the stronger-willed human. So caught up in his compulsions they don’t even notice his cold tone, his sharp gaze, the lies that lace his words- the hatred that burns in his eyes.

The other two lower their weapons and the leader gestures to the campfire, and Scar breezes by them. He takes a quick account of everything there- the arrow trap machine, the packs that a hint of gold poke out of, the mis-matched tools and bags that tell Scar they definitely did not belong to these people... a smaller backpack catches his eyes, the hand-sewn cat on it sending a wave of revulsion and anger burning through his entire being.

A child's bag.

These people know no limits.

"What are these lights?" One of them asks distantly, stumbling over the log lying by the fire as they steadfastly stare at his Fairy light. Scar turns to them, a smile verging on sneer curling his lips.

Two of them continue to stare at the Fairy lights, reaching out before pulling back quickly. The third- the 'boss'- watches only him, victim to an entirely different compulsion.

"It's nothing," he says, and in their stupors the bandits simply accept it.

"Your eyes are like gold," the leader says suddenly, hardly more than a mutter as they tilt their head at him.

"Yes," Scar agrees easily, because he can feel his magic buzzing under his skin- begging to lash out. His Fairy lights glimmer dangerously in time with his heartbeat.

He sits down now and the leader is quick to follow, dropping clumsily next to him. They offer him a strip of cured meat and Scar’s nose wrinkles at the scent, and he shakes his head. The bandit is quick to toss the meat aside and offer him a flask instead, pushing it into Scar’s hands in some semblance of polite hospitality that makes Scar’s stomach twist with disgust.

(He remembers, for a split second, the first time he met Mumbo in person. The reserved and hermitlike Vampire who had lost and lost so much, who was still so polite and kind and good despite it all. He remembers the light feeling in his chest when Mumbo smiled, the warmth of his touch when they shook hands- remembers how much he wanted as it lingered a second too long, how much he thought he couldn't have. He remembers those precious minutes before he pushed it all away.)

"What's your name?" The leader asks as their companions find their way to their seats, Fairy lights lingering in their laps. They stay silent now, unable to even think. "My name is Aaron."

"A pleasure," Scar lies, offering the bandit a dangerous smile. "Aaron, you say?"

A strange name for a bandit, he thinks, but the haze that falls like a veil over their face when he speaks tells him it's his real name.

How foolish.

"And your friends, Aaron?" he asks, leaning closer. The bandit watches him, oblivious to the way the fire flickers hotter than before.

"Jamie and Jones," the bandit answers without question, without hesitation.

"Jamie and Jones," he repeats, noting how the two in question sit up just a little straighter at the sound of their names. "Wonderful. Thank you."

"And your name?" The bandit repeats.

Scar chuckles. "You don't need it, Aaron," he says, and the other simply nods.

"Of course," they agree. Scar looks around at them, taking in their clothing and lack of sharp teeth, their rounded ears and long, bony fingers. Their fingernails are dirty and not sharp, cut short towards the bed.

"You're all human," he notes.

"Of course!" One of the others- Jones, he believes- proudly thumps a hand against their own chest, puffing up. Scar frowns. "Humans are the only true people, ya know!"

Scar tilts his head. "What does that mean, Jones?" He asks innocently.

"The humans were the first," Jones says. "Specifically, Peecy! Alex and Steve- what were they?"

"Peecy!" Jamie declares with a confident grin. "Hybrids and them sort'a things- they're just glorified beasts."

"So you're followers of the Old Book," Scar mutters, glancing between them. It makes sense, unfortunately- in the old days, when the Void was nothing more than a story and only one god walked the lands, back when there were no Testifica or Illager or Hybrids, no Natural or Supernatural...

Back when a Mob was nothing more than a Mob.

"The only right book," Aaron says, nodding sagely. "Of course someone of your caliber would understand such things, sweetheart."

"Don't-" Scar starts before catching himself. He breathes out and smiles.

(No matter what, he remembers, a prince must never wear his thoughts on his face.)

"Right," he says, because he refuses to agree even with lies on his tongue. Not that these three notice it's neither truth nor agreement- just an acknowledgement. "I believe I've heard enough, then."

These people would hurt Grian and Tubbo if given the chance. They'll hurt Mumbo if they realize what he is.

They would try to hurt Scar, if they weren't so heavily under his spell.

Humans are terribly fragile.

"Heard enough?" Aaron repeats, watching him. Scar stands up and turns to them, pulling his staff out as he does.

"You're dangerous and unforgivable," he says simply, trying not to glance towards the child's backpack lying on the ground. He twirls his staff and the Fairy lights brighten, and whatever protest the other two might have called dies in their throats as their vision is overwhelmed by gold.

Scar taps the end if his staff onto the ground between him and Aaron, who at last seems to realize they've been tricked- but not fast enough, as when they try to grab their sword a vine breaks through the ground, wrapping around their wrist and yanking down.

Aaron yells as they're dragged to the ground. "Sorcerer!" they get out before the vine crawls across their skin and blooms flowers and leaves, pressing against their mouth and silencing them.

Scar smiles coldly and kneels in front of them. He pushes his hair back behind his ear when the bandit's angry wide eyes turn up to him.

Even in this moment, that hint of desire still remains. A remnant of Scar's earlier compulsion, he knows- but he doesn’t need it anymore.

He has the bandit Aaron right where he needs them, and Jones and Jamie are in no condition to help.

"Maybe you should make sure you're speaking to another Human before you start saying such things," Scar says, his eyes flashing as the vines and flowers continue to grow. The bandit chokes and struggles but Scar's vines only pull them tighter to the earth.

Scar stands up straight again. "I was gonna just lead you three on a wild goose chase," he says, seemingly-amiable as he smiles dangerously. "But I think my Birdie was right, after all."

The Fairy lights grow ever brighter. "Jamie. Jones. Aaron. Farewell," he says flatly, watching as the haze consumes them. He watches the vines grow, pressing through their skin- blood prickling up around the blooms and thorns-

(Too far.)

Scar steps back, away from the three bandits- one being steadily cocooned with vines and two staring blankly ahead of themselves, no thoughts at all behind their eyes. He looks at them and feels nothing.

No guilt. No regret.

It’s not quick. Not merciful. It’s suffering and he’s not even slightly sorry.

(Is he any better than them, then?)

Scar’s gaze moves to the pile of bags, scanning over the fabric; some of them have suspicious red stains, some are torn and ripped, but Scar’s eyes stop on that child’s backpack once again.

They would have killed Tubbo, he thinks, and he turns around and walks away- leaving the vines to continue growing, spreading out from the body they consume and snake around the ankles of the broken people, to snuff out the fire, and before too long it grows into a thick bramble, blocking the clearing from sight.

Scar doesn’t return to camp until hours later, when everyone else is asleep.

(If a human loses their humanity, are they still human after all?)

#Atherix Writes #Midnight Series #Tumblr Exclusive #CW death #CW manipulation #CW mind control #<- kinda. Just in case #CW mindbreak #<- just in case again #Anyway the only time Scar notices people's interest is when he can weaponize it lmao

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