Oatmeal
Rating: M (R, if you still use movie ratings)
Category: Crossover with The Cell, Parody, Mild Horror, One shot.
Notes: This has to be the strangest crossover ever. It all started when I was watching the intestine-ripping scene and thought that the costumes would be perfect for the Knives/Meryl pairing. If they ever had to go to a costume party, Halloween party, they'd have great costumes, and Knives would have an excuse to disembowel someone before the night was out. How it went from that to this, I have no idea. Enjoy.
In the dream Stryfe had been positioned on the round dimpled bed, like a doll or perfect puppet. The canopy above, made from thousands of strands of thin white disks chained together, was illuminated by some unknown source. It fluttered in an unfelt breeze, like a sea creature from the SEEDS video archives, singing like a wind chime. The tight dress Stryfe wore was old blood red, as was the goop that has shellacked her short hair into the shape of a fan. Red was the color of her pouting, motionless, lips. Her face was hidden behind some strange mask shaped like the horns of a male deer.
Stryfe's back was to Knives as he walked up to her. He could see the neck corset, and the long thin gold chain that bound her to the bed. He felt a twinge of dark pleasure when he noticed it. His bed had been Stryfe's prison ever since he had told her what she would have to do for him to keep Vash happy. Her debt to him, as personified as this, was a fierce thing for Knives to see.
She didn't respond to his voice, so he sat down and removed the mask, with its veil of chains. As soon as the mask was discarded, Stryfe began to move, serpentine despite her restraints. Her glossy, red mouth parted in an erotic sigh.
Knives
Her voice echoed off of the walls, but her lips had not moved from their lovely pout.
She was on top of him, trying to crawl into his lap. Knives' hand stole down her back and over the curve of her ass. She shivered seductively in a manner the real Stryfe could not have even bared to watch. Here in this small room, as in his small room at Vash's home, he could do anything he wanted, not worry about being caught. But here he knew something was wrong.
He felt as though the shadows themselves were watching him.
"What is this place?" He asked, hearing his voice eerily echo off of the walls.
The canopy shivered and twinkled in a sudden rush of wind.
Meryl's mouth met his in a kiss that was both passionate and dead. In any other situation, it would have made him hold her down and fuck her until he had no further use for her body. But everything in this place was disjointed, unnatural. Something was wrong.
Don't be scared.
The cry of something that feasted on the dead sounded somewhere in the distance. The canopy jumped and slammed into itself. The twinkling strands, swayed violently in the force of a coming storm.
Meryl's dead hands clutched at the front of his shirt as he was suddenly impaled.
He screamed, throwing his head back. Meryl's face became animated with morbid glee. Her eyes suddenly shone with life, as Knives' blood poured out of his chest. Who had stabbed him, who would DARE…?
He looked down and saw the blade of the angel arm, as familiar as the back of his hand.
Knives turned his head to see Vash's serene face, seemingly oblivious to his pain, as Knives began to slip... slip away.
Knives gave out a cry like a wounded beast before he finally slid into a thick darkness…
Knives woke up in the midday light, bathed in a cold sweat. He told himself, firmly, that he wouldn't stay up to watch the bad colonist movies the anymore.
When he came down from his room, he found Vash and Stryfe sitting at the kitchen table. Stryfe had worn a low-necked shirt for the first time since they had started their monthly visits. She fingered the bruises on her neck, embarrassed and nervous, but no longer fearful of him.
Vash looked like he was going to make a drastic decision.