#damn this one hurted | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

west-tokyo-incidents · 2 years

Text

It hurts like nothing else. Especially in the moment. But they hadn't been expecting another hard blow months and months later.

CW; major character death, mutilation, torture, pregnancy, birth + related difficulties, mourning, grief, etc.

"I can't believe you did this to me again." Paresse groaned as he rubbed at his temples. The migraines were the worst part of the beginnings. Rage gave a heartfelt and apologetic expression, leaning over to kiss his arm. Paresse had taken another pregnancy test a few days ago, and it was positive. Today had been the second test, and it said the same.

Paresse just rolled his eyes, sitting next to his wife, "Yeah, I know, I know." He leaned back, "But it's not like we can't take care of it, and this fucker–" He jabs a nail against Rage's leg, "--has been wanting another anyways."

Fussa chuckled from her place on the couch as she watched, "You decided to keep it." Her smile made the creases in her face deepen.

Rage laughed and sat in his lap, running his hands over Paresse's still-flat belly, "I'm kind of surprised, we've been using protection."

"Eh, a condom probably broke just a little and we didn't catch it." Paresse just shrugged, "I'm having Dunstan shut off my cycle after this one, though." It was an empty threat, really. He'd threatened the same thing after Jupiter, too.

Fussa made a small noise and looked Paresse over, but didn't say anything. Not right now, anyways. She and Paresse had fucked a month or more ago and didn't use protection. She was old now, though. So it probably didn't mean anything, but it still hung in the back of her mind. She didn't want to interrupt the two as they discussed how to break the news to the others, to Jupiter, though she did give a few suggestions of her own. She'd talk to him about it later.

Later being after she took a trip to a little butcher shop that she loved on the edge of their territory.

She should have taken Rage with her. She'd slipped out on her own, wanting time with her thoughts. Mulling over and rehearsing ways to bring it up to Paresse that his second child might be hers. She picked out a few cuts and talked about anything but work with the butcher. He asked where her bodyguard was and she waved it off. She had something to tell her husband after his, so she was in a hurry. She'd figured out a way to tell him after she got back.

She had hyped herself up and was ready to go as she left and headed down her usual short cut, now thinking about what she'd ask Paresse to cook for her.

She wakes up for only a few minutes, but it's been hours since she was knocked out. Everything hurts. Everything. She can barely see, something is so fucking bright in front of her.

She took a steel bat to the back of her skull.

People are talking. She flinches and tries to focus. What the hell is going on…? It takes almost all of her time awake to wrap her head around what's happening. She's far from as sharp and as healthy as she used to be.

The bright thing is a hologram, and it's hard to focus on. The other Incidents are displayed on it. Mizho, Paresse, Rage, Vice. It's a live feed. And she can only imagine she's being cast back to them. A hostage situation. She'll be rescued. They'll pay the ransom for her.

… Rage is screaming something at them.

Something cold is on the side of her head. A gun.

"We will give you anything!! She hasn't done anything to your crew, we have!! She's retired, leave her out of this!!"

The horror in Rage's voice puts a rock in her gut. Paresse's next words seal the deal.

"I'm the one you're mad at, I'll take her place–"

This isn't a hostage situation.

Paresse is pregnant. He wouldn't say that lightly. He's trying to negotiate a way to get closer to them. To kill them… before they can kill her. Realization makes her head shoot up, eyes locked on Paresse and seeing the sheer panic and despair on her husband's usually stoic face.

This is an execution.

She tries to say his name. It's a hoarse strain against her gag instead. He looks at her anyways. She can't stop the tears that start falling. Her captor says something.

Her eyes flick down to his stomach and her chest heaves in a sob. What if she was right? What if it's hers? What if–

She hears a click.

It only hurt for a moment.

—

Rage's scream rips through the office. Fussa's office. Paresse can't even croak, watching his wife's body just… crumple in the chair. The hologram cuts out. Paresse stumbles back and holds his head in his hands. Mizho can't speak, either, but she's shaking. Vice has grabbed Rage.

"... it was faked… it has to be, they're not stupid… they wouldn't…" Her eye turns to look at Rage. He's practically clawing at his chest, only Vice able to keep him from it, forcing Rage into an embrace to keep him from tearing himself apart. No, it was real. She knew that frantic sobbing. It was the same way Vice had sobbed when he first came back after Kia's death.

That's it… she's all that's left. Kia and now Fussa… she knew it was only a matter of time but…

"Mizho…?" A voice that crackled, a broken voicebox. She looked at Paresse, who was reaching for her. Her shoulders slumped and she reached back, letting him pull her into a hug. No, she couldn't do that to him. Not on purpose. He was the only one left with a master, now.

She'd always, always planned to be the first one to go in a great blaze of fury, to burn her match down from both ends and end it with a great, disastrous flash in one final hoorah. … she supposed she could make this her last. Drag these bastards into the deepest pit of hell with her, kicking and screaming.

"We need to get her body." Paresse muttered into her ear. Rage was in hysterics, so he was being quiet, "We can't let them fuck with her body we have to find them. Now."

Fury blossomed on Mizho's face, her face creasing in a twisted way. He was right.

"Vice and I will. You stay with Rage."

Paresse doesn't answer for a long moment, then, "On one condition; you're not allowed to die."

"I won't. I'll have the twins. I'll have Vice."

Paresse pulls away and grabs her shoulders, looking her dead in the eye, "Listen to me. You're not. Allowed. To die. Do you understand?"

She knows what he's thinking. He knows she'd never planned to live this long anyways. Normally, she'd reprimand him for making an order to his queen… but she meets his gaze evenly, "I'm not going to die. After all, I still have one more kid to train, yeah?"

Surprise and then a broken smile. Paresse nods, "Damn right you do." He lets his hands fall off of her and turns away. He gently kneels next to Rage, who's finally screamed himself out. Rage latches onto him instantly, and Vice's eyes meet Mizho's.

—

She nods. It's been five years since Kia's death. There had been no vengeance then. No cathartic explosion of revenge killing for either of them. Maybe it was cruel to Fussa that they were thinking of Kia, too, but they had five years of grief festering under their skin, and this new wound was making the puss ooze and boil.

It took only an hour to locate where the broadcast had been sent from. Less than that to get there.

Fresh, ungodly sick rain slicked the streets. Trash floated along the sides of the street and disappeared into the sewers. The baying of hounds on the hunt echoed off cars and windows. Oil floated in the water and made it shimmer and ripple. Brick and concrete turned dark in the wet.

The baying stopped. Gunfire and shouting rang out like a bomb, and ended just as quickly. Something darker and thicker than rain and oil was spilled in droves. A small gang would cease to exist. Bodies are dragged through the muck. Some unconscious, most dead.

One body is carried, draped in a tarp to protect it from the rain.

—

Three men wake later, suspended in the air with their arms stretched out behind them, almost far enough to dislocate them, straining tendons at the very end of their limits. Arranged in a semicircle in a plain, windowless, ventless room, featureless room, they can all see each other… and start to scream at one another. Each accusing the others of getting them in this situation. All sorts of things are being slung, back and forth. Echoing off the empty walls and bouncing around.

They don't see the two tone eyes of their captor, standing in plain sight. They're all so focused on each other, selfishly screaming. And he lets them go at it. He listens to their voices start to strain, to crack. Finally, one spots him and goes dead still, causing the others to pause and look, too, at the looming man in the corner.

He is stood at attention, eyes focusing on the men with a hardness that can only be drilled into a person by years of training. He isn't wearing a shirt, nor is he covered in wrappings. His pants are black, plain. Keeping attention on his upper body. The exposed flesh is decorated with ink upon ink.

With a quiet precision, he moves from his place, standing in front of the men. Once again at attention, "Do you know who I am?"

Serpents and bulls and fish and turtles and owls and dogs. Guns and skulls and lyrics.

All flickered and shimmered in the light of a room that had gone deathly quiet.

The silence is louder than their argument had been.

"I asked a question."

His eyes flick between each of the three. One finally explodes, the one on his right.

"Yeah, I fucking do! You're the fucking dick who killed my sister! Blood for blood, asshole!"

The man slowly turns his head to look at him. And stays silent. He doesn't flinch when he's spat at. He looks to the next man, "What about you? Do you know?"

"...you're the guy who offered his life in place of the guy we killed…?" He weakly offered a guess, shrinking away from that gaze. The gaze that then turned to the third.

"And you?"

The man can't speak, and just shakes his head, looking anywhere but at their captor.

"Then let me introduce myself." The words fall out of his mouth like blood drips from a corpse's wounds. Slow and coagulated. No heartbeat behind the cold drip. Just the inevitably of gravity dragging it down, "I am former lieutenant Fussa Paresseux, Karakuridouji of Sloth. My former master, Michel Dubois, and I still hold the highest success rate of any seek and destroy unit that has ever existed in the Japanese military. My current master is Mizho, one of the two queenpins of the West Tokyo Incidents. She and I have killed hundreds more, for far less."

Dread enters even the one on the right's face. They all know his name, save for the addition of the surname. The man lifts up his right hand and runs his thumb over a silver band on his ring finger, his eyes never falling from them.

Silence. None of them will meet his gaze now, contemplating their fates.

"And you killed my wife."

One of them has the sense to shake their head, answering him.

"Do you know who she was?"

"Fussa Fusataro was a topside music producer and former rockstar. She was famous because she had clawed her way out from the underground as a trans woman and made a name for herself. She was loved and admired up there. Her music was featured across Japan and across the seas."

Another pause.

A pause, dragging out as one of the men begins to sniffle in fear, "She was the greatest informant the West Tokyo Incidents had. She escaped the most brutal justice system Japan has to offer while she was guilty as fucking sin. She was smart as a whip and clever as a fox."

One of them chokes as emotion finally graces his voice. A deep, crackling snarl full of both rage and grief. Paresse doesn't budge for a long time. And when he does speak, the snarl is gone. The flat tone becomes almost sympathetic. Almost. More mocking, really.

"You shot her in cold blood in front of her own douji, her friends, and her pregnant husband."

"You were just poor lowly thugs in the wrong place at the wrong time. You didn't know who I was. You didn't know I was married to the old woman you kidnapped. You didn't know who she was. You just knew she was associated with me. You just wanted to hurt me. You saw me panic when you started that holocall, and you decided you wanted to hurt me more. Congratulations." His tone is dead. Flat. "You achieved your goal. You have hurt me more than the gunman who shot Michel."

He slowly blinks, but none of the men see.

"But you didn't look to see how deep the water was. All you had to do was find out who she was and do a little more research. Ask around a little. People would have told you not to mess with her. But you just saw an opportunity and took it, didn't you?"

Silence.

"I have a funeral to attend, but I won't leave you alone for long. There's a couple people who'd like to introduce themselves as well while I'm gone." He puts the phone back in his pocket, "I'd highly suggest treating them with respect." He steps back and away, then walks to a door they can't see and exits.

"Answer me!" He suddenly snaps. They all rapidly nod, tears falling from some of their faces. Paresse just hums, then he straightens his back, having slipped into a slight slouch. He rolls his shoulders and glances at a phone, at the time.

Leaving them alone. Suspended in the air with their arms stretched out behind them. Almost far enough to dislocate them. Straining tendons at the very end of their limits. Arranged in a semicircle. In a plain, windowless, ventless room, featureless room.

—

Paresse exits the room and picks up his shirt, sliding it over himself. He straightens it and makes his way across the hall, to a room where the rest of the remaining Incidents are, and the ones who will be.

Mizho, Vice, Rage. Jupiter and Chihiro.

Jupiter and Chihiro don't exist in any record. They can't attend the funeral being put on for the public, no matter how Jupiter protested being left behind for his mother's funeral. All the Incidents have false identities already relating them to Fussa and Rage has no need for one, so they can all go. But he'd made a compromise with the two young ones.

Paresse's eyes fall on them. He holds up one finger, "You have one rule, you two. Do not kill them. The longer they live, the more they suffer. Understood?"

"Understood."

—

Paresse is silent through the whole thing. He watches others come and go. It takes a long time for him to be able to go up to the casket. He knows she's wearing the rings, and that her hands are positioned just so to hide them. Rage sits with him, all of the rest have gone up and paid their respects already.

Some people come up and ask their relation, they just parrot off their false identities. Paresse doesn't talk, but Rage vouches for him and that's enough to keep people off of him. It doesn't help that his stomach has been warring against him all day. Stress on top of the pregnancy was doing him zero favors.

The place is almost empty when he finally stands up and walks over to her. He's the very last one before the casket is closed. He leans against it. The mortuary people had done a good job hiding the bruises and setting her broken jaw. The other wounds hidden under her suit. Her hands folded over her chest. It doesn't feel real. She doesn't look real. He hated funerals just for that.

Rage waits by the door, arms behind his back. He watches Paresse reach in, and knows he's changing which hand is on top, exposing the rings. He makes a little face and sighs. He really should have left it be. It was already dangerous leaving the rings on her at all. If anyone saw the connection, matched their rings together… it could be the connection someone needs to know exactly who they are. But he knows Paresse isn't thinking about that. Probably isn't thinking about much at all.

Paresse flinches at the bright light as they exit the funeral home. As heat rolls over him and makes his stomach churn. He wavers in place, a hand going over his mouth.

But Paresse also closes the casket and steps away. The staff at this place are all paid off, he doesn't imagine they'll do anything now that it's closed. Rage decides not to say anything.

"Babe? You okay?"

"Too damn hot… I'm gonna be fucking sick again."

Rage leads him to a spot in the shade and he sits, arms around his stomach. Fortunately, it passes without him retching, but he decides against attending the burial. Rage feels obligated to, but Vice nor Mizho stay either.

Paresse rides in the back, a hand rubbing small circles into the muscles of his abdomen.

He goes to his room… but immediately turns and leaves.

It still smells like smoke.

—

For the next four months, all three men are kept alive. Force fed and half drowned to keep them hydrated. They're used to teach Jupiter and Chihiro about torture, kept alive at the very ends of their wits. Taught when to know someone is about to pass out or drown or just straight up die. Paresse teaches them how to dislocate joints and reset them.

One dies at the four month mark, Chihiro cutting too deep. Vice uses his body to teach the kids how to butcher and Paresse teaches them how to cook human flesh.

Paresse is definitely showing now, a noticeable bulge in his gut. It's been rough, but he attributes that to the grief and stress. Phantom pains and cramps abound. The nausea never really leaves like it did for Jupiter after the first few months. But he doesn't take check-ups with Dunstan or Pardonner. It's a douji/douji child, after all. Little risk compared to Kia's pregnancy, right? Jupiter had gone off without a hitch, so Paresse was confident he knew what he was doing now. He's just stressed.

Things have calmed by that four month mark. Fussa's job had long since fallen to another topside informant by the name of Akira after she'd officially retired, but he isn't permitted to use Fussa's old office for work. The office is still used for their meetings, but Fussa's desk is untouched unless it needs dusting. The smell of her favorite smoke sits in the wood like a ghost.

Another month passes and Jupiter suddenly snaps at one of the men remaining. He becomes a bloodstain. Jupiter's noh was rarely used. But the man had said something regarding his unborn sibling and metal turned his body into mush. Rage chastised him, but the tone of his voice makes it obvious that if Jupiter hadn't done it, Rage would have.

The third and final was Paresse's kill a few days later, and it was quick. They were tired of their playthings and the last man was given an undignified death, as pitiful as he was. Shot between the eyes like a lame horse.

—

Something goes very wrong in Paresse's last month.

It's the dead of night, the chill of winter keeping him bundled up tight. Rage is topside, working, so he's also alone. Curled up in the corner of the bed where it met the corner of the room. A warm cup in one hand and a pencil in the other, casually sketching. Headphones in his ears playing some of Rage's music. It's a peaceful night. He's not thinking about much of anything.

And then he shifts his weight and pain rips through him.

He screams. Mizho hears him, feels the echo of pain. She's already dialing Kiyose's number. It's some kind of blessing that Vice and the kids have already fallen asleep and don't wake from his scream.

There's so much blood. Why is there so much blood? Why is it red?? Douji don't bleed red!! It's a nightmare, it has to be, it has to be…!! It hurts so goddamn much!!

The moment Pardonner finally arrives, he sees and immediately gets to work. Kiyose tells Mizho to call Rage, sends her out of the room. Paresse is inconsolable and Pardonner has to knock him out, his noh sending the man right into a deep sleep.

"What is happening??" The older woman snaps, turning rapidly to face her once the door clicks shut. Kiyose keeps a straight face with a gentle, patient smile.

He knows what's happening. He only hopes it won't be stillborn. That he arrived in time. He focuses on his work, cutting Paresse open with careful movements. Once she's satisfied that he won't need her for a while, Kiyose steps out of the room to a pacing Mizho.

"Paresse has been pregnant with a human/douji hybrid, not a pure douji child. He's lucky they made it this far. They'll have a fighting chance this late, but it's possible that they won't make it…" Kiyose trails off.

Mizho is taken aback. The information processing a little at a time. "It's not Rage's kid."

The moment she says it, said man almost broke the door downstairs, storming in. Kiyose feels Pardonner call for her and she gives a little bow before going back in to assist her husband.

Mizho stares at the door as she hears Rage practically fly up the stairs. She spins around and slams a hand into his chest to stop him from running past her into the room. And stop he does, dead in his tracks. He knows far better than to disobey. But his eyes are frantic, darting between her and the door, pupils dilated from the suffocating smell of blood.

"Rage…" She starts, "Was Paresse only sleeping with you and Fussa before she died?"

"What– yeah, of course. I mean Vice sometimes with me and Ress but…" He sputters, "Why?"

—

Paresse comes back to and the world is spinning. He hears crying. His whole body aches, but especially head and his stomach. His stomach– his baby, where is his baby…?? He tries to sit up but a hand stops him as adrenaline returns to his system. A very bloody body is pressed against his chest.

"...it's a girl." Pardonner says, sitting back and watching, "She's premature, but she's healthy. You should have come to see us, we could have caught this and told you sooner."

Instinctively, he knows without seeing and wraps his arms around the newborn, eyes closing as he holds them. Panic bleeds out of his system and is replaced by joy, even as they scream. They're alive. His baby is alive.

Caught what…? Paresse opens his eyes, looking down at his baby… and froze. She has a headful of dark, black hair.

"She's a hybrid. She needed to have special care in the womb, like Chihiro."

Her crying slowly turns into little whimpers. Paresse runs a hand over her little cheek. He slowly curls around her, tears beginning to fall. She looks up at him… with rich brown eyes. A sob runs through his body and it hurts. His stitches protest as he holds the little one close and tries to keep from sobbing too hard. Kiyose smiles softly.

"I'm going to let Rage in. Is that okay, Paresse?"

He nods weakly.

Pardonner stays off to one side, on standby, as Rage comes in. Kiyose joins him once the door is closed again.

Rage quietly sits next to Paresse on the bed, gently rubbing his shoulder. The little girl looks up at him… and little tears start falling from him, too.

"She's Fusataro's…" Paresse manages, looking at Rage through his own tears. Rage smiles softly and nods.

"We're going to need a different name."

#ress writes #damn this one hurted #cyberpunk au #read the warnings

6 notes · View notes

atiyasnake · 11 months

Text

What came after the King

So, I know there is a ton of summoning the ghost king and usually it ends up with Danny/Phantom coming up when usually it was expected Pariah Dark would show up. They expect this big bad dude, the Tyrant King but get the bag of sass and puns that we have deemed Danny to be since Ghost King Danny is a really fun thing.

But what if Pariah is indeed still the ghost king. What if that time when he was locked back into the sarcophagus didn’t qualify Danny to be the new Ghost King, so Pariah was still it. Just asleep like before. (many ways to make it so since ya know *imagination*) But overall, Ghost King is still Pariah Dark...and he can still be summoned.

That would serve for some pretty interesting scenarios. For the cults guys and ofc for the heroes who might be in a situation where their last resort is summoning the Ghost King. Most situations would probably end in world domination and destruction seeing as Pariah Dark isn’t such a nice dude.

So imagine, there we have Pariah Dark unleashed on the mortal realm summoned from the sarcophagus by cultists and making up for the time he has been locked away by causing destruction and poor heroes who are trying to figure out what the hell to do.

But then from the portal where Pariah Dark had been bringing in his undead army, something else came out. Something powerful that everyone can sense and they feared what else the Ghost King called to his side in his reign of terror.

A clawed hand connected to too-long arms. A body made of a black void. Eyes glowing a bright white with a green sheen. It crawled its way out of the swirling green portal and the temperature dropped. An unsettling chill deep in their bones grew along with a pressure that made their body feel heavy before too light. More and more of the body appeared and it was too big. It hurts to look at, to try to make sense of what they were looking at. A hero or two could have sworn that it was absorbing light, like a living black hole. It’s become too silent and some second guess whether they were even alive because they can’t hear the pounding of their hearts in their heads anymore from before.

Everyone in its presence was untethered, feeling like they are floating in a cold nothingness.

It’s a sudden change that left them catching their breath they were not even sure they were getting.

Then they watched as this creature looked at Pariah Dark, its eyes shifted in color and became brighter. Its body writhed where it was. Its claws grew longer and dug into the ground below. There’s suddenly a ringing in their ears and some notice that the creature had opened its mouth that they hadn’t been able to see before and don’t want to look at.

It’s angry, so very angry.

When it looked at them, they knew they couldn’t stop it. They could do nothing against the creature. Their death was inescapable. Deep inside of them, they knew.

But the eyes softened when it looked at them. The chill abated, becoming more gentle instead of harsh and biting. They could feel where their feet were against the ground again. They could hear the reassuring sound of the breaths they took and the beating of their hearts. They were no longer floating in an unforgiving void.

There was no question that the creature was angry but it was not directed at them. There was no malice in its gaze. A soothing croon echoed out from the creature, caressing them and lessening the pain in their bodies and panic in their minds.

A few of them noticed that they had been moved, further away from the destruction and other threats.

Seemingly, with one last glance, the creature looked back at Pariah Dark. It’s fury so clear but none of it touched them. They were still protected. And when the creature headed toward Pariah Dark’s Army, when it obliterated his forces with ease and finally met Pariah Dark with claws, an open maw, and a wail that shook the ground, they felt none of it.

The creature’s fight with the Ghost King did not touch anyone. It did not add to the destruction that had already surrounded them.

As Pariah Dark fought back and attempted to escape the clutches of the creature as it dragged him toward the portal, he was unable to. Despite every hit, scream, and curse the creature never faltered and all they heard was the scream of a King cut off as he was pulled through swirling green.

Leaving the heroes a mess to clean up and a lot fewer casualties/injuries than expected. But afterward, there is a mad rush to get rid of the ways to summon the Ghost King. To not have anything like it happen again. To never even consider summoning the Ghost King because no good would come out of it.

They did not want there to be any chance of the Ghost King coming back.

But it was not only because of the Ghost King himself, no.

But also for what came after the King.

But yeah! overall, it would be cool to see more fic/drabble/ etc of how it would be if Pariah Dark was summoned but as a result Danny/Phantom came after him, in any of his forms tho. this drabble here was if Danny came after in a more elritch form.

#batty ghosts #dcxdp #dpxdc #ghost king summoning #Atiya writes #idea #prompt #eldritch danny #in the eyes of everyone else there is this eldritch creature dragging back the powerful ghost king with no mercy that strikes terror in them #bit for danny its literally like WHO LET THE DAMN DOG OUT I SWEAR TO GO-#or something to that effect #Danny is a protector spirit #so like he goes after the king but makes sure no one else will get hurt #Danny is not the ghost king #but he will drag that ghost king's ass back into the realms with no mercy #Possible Ancient of Space Danny

359 notes · View notes