WARNING: BLOODY.
NOTE: I will refer to Evil Flippy only as Evil Flippy, but I will refer to Good Flippy as, Good Flippy, and just Flippy.
While I know this is, for awhile, not going to seem very much like a romance story, it will get there. This isn't a oneshot, so don't expect quick satisfaction. :) Enjoy!
Evil Flippy:
Flippy might not think about where exactly his evil countepart's conciousness went when he 'flipped' back, but regardless of whatever he might believe, Evil Flippy was by no means gone when Flippy was in control. In fact, he was constantly alert, at any point that the hard earned self-control that Flippy had slipped, even slightly, giving Evil Flippy a chance to take over, and transform his environment mentally so that he was in the perfect state to kill.
If Flippy would have really given it thought, he would have realized that Evil Flippy's mental existence went the same place Good Flippy's went - into a dark corner of the conciousness, where one could only feel and see and think, experiencing everything second hand, but unable to interfere, until the control slipped. Evil Flippy's control was not carefully cultivated and firm in it's roots, unlike Good Flippy's was, because Evil Flippy had no patience. Therefore, Evil Flippy was far easier to be thrown out of power. It was a constant internal battle, a warfare, and mainly, Good Flippy was winning. But Evil Flippy won all the important battles, because every time he won, countless others died. When Good Flippy was winning, he had to spend most of the time concentrating on staying in control.
But when Good Flippy wasn't in control, all he did was watch in horror as his friends were slaughtered by the very hand he used to feed himself, his own hand commiting such terrifying when Evil Flippy was forced back into that little cranny of their mind, he was not paying attention to the petty seeming life that Flippy led. He was thinking, and planning... and remembering. Remembering everything. Good Flippy's mind had set up a nice, neat little mental block over everthing that had happened during the war. But Evil Flippy had no such luxury.
During the war, he was just the manifestation of Good Flippy's pure, animal killing instinct. He would have faded away, if it weren't for the fact that Good Flippy refused to remember anything about the war or deal with any of it. And those memories had to go somewhere. If Evil Flippy hadn'nt been in the wrong place at the wrong time, those memories would have eventually bombarded Good Flippy, and he would have been forced to deal with them. It would have ended there. But instead, they bombarded Evil Flippy, who had no real logical reasoning skills, only killing instinct and raw emotions. So while Flippy had been relaxing, and rebuilding his home life after the war, Evil Flippy was slowly being driven insane, by pictures, memories, and all the horrors of the bloodshed and death he had witnessed, participated in, and sometimes solely caused.
At heart, Evil Flippy never stopped living in those moments, curled into a ball in the bloody carcass of a large friend, ripping out the throat of an enemy with his bare claws, basking in the bright red splatters across his chest, the ground, and his enemies' bodies. But someone's mind had to pay for seeing and causing such things, and Evil Flippy, the brainless slaughtermachine had been driven as batshit crazy as was possible.
But he had figured some things out. He realized that Good Flippy had done it to him. He didn't know how, or why, but something in him was setting the blame on Good Flippy. And the target was his own body. But he had yet to kill Good Flippy, and not because he was unable to. Good Flippy was weak the one time Evil Flippy had gone about the exhausting task of seperating his conciousness from Good Flippy into another body, and fought good Flippy. He was by all means planning to kill Good Flippy, but something made him stop. He held back. He still did not understand why. He viciously vowed to not hold back the next time, and was frustrated when he did not believe himself. Why did I stop? He is the source of my problems, isn't he? He did not know why.
Good Flippy:
Flippy and Evil Flippy's thoughts were the only thing truly seperated. They never heard the others thoughts. In fact, Flippy was under the vague notion that Evil Flippy had no thoughts. He constantly thought about the day Evil Flippy had actually appeared before him. He noticed the constricted pupils and green, pale irises before he was tackled to the ground, completely caught off gaurd. He knew that Evil Flippy could have killed him. When he fell into Evil Flippy's trap, Evil Flippy could have snaped his neck while he was unconcious and that would have been the end. But he hadn't. He had wanted to play with him a bit. But he would have eventually killed him, right? He had to have been planning on it!
Eventually... But why, in the first place, would Evil Flippy kept him alive? Flippy's thoughts ran in circles. He closed his eyes, laying on his bed, and a picture of those green eyes, bright with hate, hurt, mishief, insanity, and utter rage came unbidden into his head, then Evil Flippy's whole head, running down to a strong, thick neck, shoulders, chest thick with ropy, tight muscles... Goosebumps ran up Flippy's fur coated arms and Flippy quickly opened his eyes. A bead of sweat ran down his cheek. He shook his head fervently, and ran to the bathroom to take a very, very cold shower.
Evil Flippy:
But he had stopped himself from killing Flippy. Some part of him was intrigued with this little green soldier, so innocent and untouchable. It turned on something in Evil Flippy ( No pun intended) and was a very different kind of excitment than that of when he was killing. He was curious about it, so he decided to postpone his seemingly inevitable murder of Good Flippy. But he did not want to remember this. So he continued to be confused and angry.
Good Flippy:
Good Flippy came back to his room after the shower, feeling sobered and a bit cooled off. He calmly passed off the heat that had passed through him when he though of Evil Flippy as a low fever. Certainly that was all. He remembered that he had a low fever when he first saw Evil Flippy and was tackled forcefully to the ground by him, being straddled by those strong, muscular legs.... This fever was recurring, and beginning to worry him. So he decided to go to bed, turn out the lights... And after the lights were out, he wasn't held responsible for anything he might do... In the dark, all logic and reasoning was kaput, the real world postponed until the first lazy streams of light penetrated the blinds...
Evil Flippy:
The current host of the shared body was asleep. While Good Flippy did not know it, This was the perfect time to take over. Evil Flippy rarely did this, taking over during the night, because Good Flippy would become wise to it, and this was one of the secret weapons that Evil Flippy was storing away for the big day when he would kill Good Flippy. But tonight was an exception. He quietly forced his conciousness forward, bursting into power like waking from a particularly intense dream. He stretched his fingers and toes first, then began to mechanically check his arms, legs, head, and noticed that his manhood was throbbing forcefully. He vaguely wondered what Good Flippy had been doing, or thinking about, before he wen to sleep. He shrugged and stood up, smiling at the feel of moving on his own. Good Flippy's conciousness had never been disturbed, he was still sleeping, just in a different part of the mind.
This was going to be the beginning of his new idea - mental torture. He was going to abuse Flippy psychologically. He stalked out the front door with his trusty bowie knife and hand grenades, and snuck over to his neighbors house, Lumpy.
He went to a window, and pulled off his shirt. He wrapped his hand in it, and quietly broke the window. He climbed through, not noticing the painful lacerations his body now boasted from brokedn glass. he climbed in the window and dropped to the floor. He listened very, very closely. He heard a very light shuffling down the hall. He hid behind a chair. Lumpy came out, arms held out, eyes Flippy recognized that he was sleep walking. he crept up from behind, put the knife in his left hand, and grabbed Lumpy. One hand held a knife to his neck, the other muffled his mouth. A the same time he grabbed him, with two deft kicks, he broke both of Lumpy's legs at the patella and badly fractured the femur, in other words, the kneecap and thigh bones. With a snap of his own elbows he dislocated one of Lumpy's shoulders, and broke his arms. While Lumpy was distracted, Evil Flippy quickly cut his own hand deftly, instantly waking up Flippy with a bright surge of pain. Flippy had only seconds to take in the shocking scene. Lumpy was a bloody, disfigured mess, but not dead yet. Evil Flippy suddenly punched lumpy, hard in the back of the head, and Lumpy was temporarily incapacitated. Looking down at him, grinning, Evil Flippy licked the blade clean, put it on his utility belt, and hauled lumpy over his shoulders.
Lumpy woke up later, groggy and in excruciating pain, and found himself totally bound to a bed. Every arm and leg was attatched to a different bedpole. he looked up and saw Evil Flippy standing over him, smiling. There was a knife in his hand. He walked over, and began to undo Lumpy's pants. Lumpy would have screamed, but his mouth was gagged. Evil Flippy finally pulled out Lumpy's manhood. He put the knife to the side. Tears of fear were coming down out of Lumpy's eyes. Sqrthshhhhh!! And Lumpy was castrated. He screamed and thrashed against his Flippy suddenly looked annoyed and put the blade so close to lumpy's throat he had to lean his head into the mattress to avoid being killed. Evil Flippy meant business. Satisifed, Evil Flippy smirked and brought the knife up to the side of Lumpy's face, and pressed it softly against his ear. Flippy was still watching in horror, unable to begin to try to take over. Sqrt, sqrt! Both ears were gone. Flippy turned around, and stared right into the mirror at his own eyes. Straight into Flippy's eyes.
Evil Flippy grinned, covered in blood, so much blood, more blood than Flippy felt he had ever seen, and Evil Flippy licked his blade clean again, and put his fingers on the blood caked mirror, and spelled out, clearing blood out of the path of his fingers, " You next, baby!" Turned back around, and did a jumping plunge of the knife through Lumpy's stomach. Blood squirted out onto Evil Flippy's face and dripped into his mouth and eyes. Lumpy's guts, so tight and wound up and firmly set, began to unwind wildly and come out of his stomach, as if there was not enough room for all his intestines inside him. But he was not dead. Evil Flippy ran over to the windows and locked them shut, moved a giant piece of furniture in front of the door, and picked up Lumpy, still alive, and set him next to the window. Then he obeiently surrendered power to Flippy.
Good Flippy:
He stared at the wreckage before him. His legs buckled, and he fell to his knees, as tears of horror and stress came to his eyes. he was covered with pieces of Lumpy noone had ever seen before. because they had always been on the inside. His own blood was also spilled, from a long gash, currently throbbing away, that ran up the length of his arms. He didn't feel it. He was forced to leave through the locked window, where he had to step over Lumpy.A bloody hand shot up and grabbed his leg, and he looked down. A face barely recognizable with blood gazed up at him, in a kind of dying stupor, and tried to mumble something but began to choke and cough on blood, and vomited once on Flippy. Then Lumpy lay back, jerked once, and died. Flippy almost fainted then, but pulled on, breaking the window and taking even more lacerations to his bare body, along with the ones from the previous window and the gash from his knife. Which was still on his utility belt. He shivered convulsively, and trudged home, thinking to wash vigorously and go to bed.
Bed!? He started suddenly. Was he insane? Go to bed after that, after he had seen what Evil Flippy was capable of? Fat chance. He wasn't letting another friend die because of Evil Flippy. He supposed he would just stay awake. Forever.
...
...
...
Maybe he should just take the knife to his own stomach.
Evil Flippy:
It was all starting to come together. Flippy had sworn off sleep. Evil Flippy knew he was tough - he could last a few days. But he couldn't last forever. And if he could, he couldn't keep control forever. Now to just plan his trap, and wait, wait for an opening. The right opening.
I told you, first chapter, not exactly lemony. But I bet you could see where I am going, at least partly, you could already see that they have peaked the other's interest. ;) Cold shower? Eh? Eh? Oh yeah, you get it, you dog you! XDXD