Slightly obsessed with this game lately...over the course of a few days and a few choice pieces of fanart tumblr converted me into a Batterie fan _ Anyways, this was just a drabble that got a bit out of hand, I hope you enjoy.

The Batter cursed as he narrowly avoided a set of jagged claws, his back hitting the wall with a solid whump. The hallways in the Director's factory were narrow and poorly lit, the sad lightbulbs hanging naked from the ceiling barely providing enough light to distinguish door from cracked plaster wall. The corrupted Elsen and his spectres that the Batter was currently in the process of purifying were more difficult than the Batter's previous foes in other areas—in fact the Batter had not come across a single pure soul in this area. The Elsens, while timid, were never this drawn-looking, eyes so sunken into their small skulls that they appeared as standing corpses. All it had taken was a single glance in the Batter's direction before they mutated and turned into disgusting, impure creatures, calling spectres to their sides to destroy him.

The limited maneuvering space forcing the Batter to constantly push from wall to wall between lashing out with his bat—the Add-Ons were fairing no better, the space constraining their spinning and making it impossible for them to move back to position upon striking forward. It was difficult, maddening, and the Batter let out a constant stream of curses as he slowly struck the Elsen and his minions down. His pulse hammered in his throat, sweat beaded on his forehead and upper back, his breath came out in desperate pants.

After what felt like an eternity of fighting, the Batter swung his bat one last time and crashed it into the Elsen's side just as Epsilon spun through the remaining spectre. The Elsen faded away with a tortured shriek, and the Batter let out a weary gasp, falling to his knees and propping his bat up for support as the Add-Ons returned to his subconscious.

"Why friend, you seem a little breathless."

The Batter quickly looked for the source of the words, and noticed Zacharie leaning against the wall a few metres away. The poor lighting made the merchant a smear of black and white, the hollow eyes of his mask the only solid parts of him.

"How long…have you been there?" The Batter huffed as he tried to catch his breath, his pulse still racing.

Zacharie chuckled. "Hmm, I do wonder. As the mysterious, honorary guide character in this narrative I could have been here since the start of your fight, and you would not have noticed. Yes…let's go with that."

The Batter shook his head in irritation. It was always unsettling for Zacharie to bring up the linearity of their lives. The Batter much preferred to live in the moment. He focused on breathing and returning his heartbeat to normal. "…What do you want?"

"Ah, a far better question. I think it would be easier to just let the story unfold than to tell you. Not to mention it would be far more interesting for our readers to continue on unspoiled."

The Batter turned to face Zacharie in disbelief, but….the man was gone. Getting to his feet, his pulse picking back up where it had left off, he spun to look down the other direction of the hallway. The only things that greeted him were flickering lights.

"…What is going on?" The Batter asked, gripping his bloodied bat in his bruised hand tightly. The hallway was absolutely silent. He swallowed, a nervous churning in his gut beginning to arise, he did not like this-

And the lights shut off completely.

The Batter was thrust into utter darkness. He let out a startled gasp before digging through his mind for the Add-Ons to appear. They would provide at least a faint glow—but they would not come. It was as though a barrier existed between him and his companions for they would not appear for him.

It was so dark. There were no windows, no back-up lights. There was nothing but a black void. The Batter listened to his panicked breathing as he waved a hand in front of his face and saw only the darkness.

He gripped the bat in both hands and held it in front of him, arms shaking. He swallowed, his heartbeat throbbing in his ears, before calling out. "Zacharie!"

There was a moment's pause before a familiar, deep chuckle sounded down the hallway, echoing through the darkness and disappearing into it. The Batter swallowed again as his skin prickled with gooseflesh. "What have you done?"

Another pause, and then, disembodied, Zacharie's voice sounded in the hallway once again. "Hmmm…I guess you'll just have to see."

This was not a good situation. What if a corrupted Elsen found the Batter in the darkness? His mission would be over. And he was so close, so close to her. He could not afford to be stopped by a trickster merchant's petty games.

"Zacharie, I don't have time for your tricks. I must purify this zone."

A gust of breath on the Batter's neck.

The Batter jumped away from it, swinging his bat at the empty air before accidentally slamming his back into the wall for the hundredth time that hour. He allowed himself a second to recuperate before getting to his feet again, back throbbing, skin crawling, electricity crackling along his limbs. "Where are you, Zacharie? Stop this at once!"

A deep hum sounded down the hallway, passing through his body in a throb of base, and he felt it all the way down to his toes. He shuddered, holding a hand out to brace himself against the wall as Zacharie's words came again.

"I cannot…nor do I really want to."

The words were oddly close to him this time. The Batter could pinpoint a location in the darkness, and he summoned the last of his strength to swing the bat in that direction.

Of course, his weapon hit nothing but the wall on the opposite side of the hallway with a crackle of busted plaster, and the Batter slumped forward, dropping the bat to the floor. He leaned against the wall, pressing his forehead into his raised arms. His breathing was erratic, he knew this position was vulnerable but his had to get his...fear under control. It was just so dark. And somehow…somehow Zacharie was making this worse.

The unpredictable nature of the merchant made this scenario all the more uneasy. The Batter had thought the man an ally—or at the very least, a neutral party, since the Batter frequented his shop. But now since Zacharie appeared to be the one blocking the Batter's path and thrusting him into this uncontrollable circumstance, the masked man's true potential had appeared.

The Batter's chest heaved with shallow breaths, and new, cold sweat ran down the exposed taunt skin of his neck.

A finger dragged up his neck, catching the bead of sweat.

The Batter let out a choked gasp as, before he could react, another hand ran down his thigh. It squeezed the muscle as the Batter swiped out tiredly, and the pressure released.

"Zach—"

A hand stroked down his exposed side, dragging down the fabric, and the Batter hissed through his teeth and swiped out again, less energy behind the movement than before, and within seconds both of the invisible hands were on him again. One flipped his cap from his head and the other stroked down his cheek, fingers lingering at the corner of the Batter's gasping mouth.

The Batter's skin was on fire; all along his body he felt feverish and too warm and there was a building sensation of confusion inside of him because he wasn't sure when this weight had appeared between his legs but the hands currently untucking his shirt from his pants were not making it go away.

When warm fingers grazed the skin of his damp lower back the Batter let out a groan, one that seemed to come from deep within him, and in response he received a chuckle hot against the skin of his jaw.

"Y-You're—" What was even going on?

"Shh, dear Batter. I think at this point my hands should become more acquainted with your skin."

"Wh—"

Zacharie's hands slid up his back under his shirt, caressing the skin, running calloused fingers along shoulder blades and then briefly massaging the bottom of the Batter's neck before abruptly circling around his torso and dragging themselves down the Batter's chest, nails scraping lightly into the skin. The Batter let out a small noise and stepped backwards, his back now flush with the merchant's front and there was something pressing into him from behind fabric—

The Batter felt something encircle his earlobe, wet and tugging, and those were Zacharie's lips.

The combination of the stimulation from his hands and the knowledge that Zacharie's mask now lay discarded somewhere with its owner's face thoroughly exposed rushed through the Batter in a tide of inexplicable desire; his hands balled into fists at his sides and he abruptly spun around, forcing Zacharie's hands out of his shirt.

But now the two were facing each other in the darkness and the Batter reached forward and found the other's face. The skin was smooth under his hands, and he barely paused to perceive this before surging forward and bringing his mouth to the merchant's, hot and desperate. The Batter swallowed Zacharie's next chuckle and forced a small noise to escape him instead, the man's hands now gripping the Batter's shoulders. The Batter pulled on Zacharie's lower lip, running his tongue over it briefly before lightly biting, Zacharie jerking under his hands. The Batter fisted his fingers into the man's thick hair as Zacharie's tongue licked at the corner of his mouth.

The Batter let him in and oh, Zacharie tasted oddly sweet, and somehow bitter at the same time, and the texture of his tongue was intoxicating the Batter and surely, surely it wouldn't be so bad to see his face. As the Batter swept Zacharie's tongue into his mouth, the merchant's hands slid from the Batter's shoulders and down to his pantline and wait, yes, the Batter was groaning into Zacharie's mouth please touch me there.

The sly hands lightly cupped the damp fabric in the front of the Batter's pants and yes yes the Batter was bucking forward, breaking contact with their mouths in order for him to suck in a ragged breath, Zacharie let out a breathless gasp of a laugh before leaning forward and placing his lips to the Batter's jaw and sucking, his fingers were now outlining the Batter's cock and applying some pressure and the Batter lost his grip in Zacharie's hair.

"…Zach..Zacharie…"

The merchant's lips left his skin. "Hmm?" His voice was deeper and the Batter took a moment longer than intended to continue to speak.

"Would you…could you…"

"Ah, you want me to stop teasing you, I take it?" A thoughtful gust of breath against the Batter's neck. "I suppose it's time for that."

And then Zacharie's hand plunged down the Batter's pants and grasped him firmly, stroking him roughly, once, twice, and the Batter cried out, hands gripping Zacharie's sweater, he was done.

Zacharie continued to stroke him until he was soft, then gently let him go and withdrew his hand. The Batter's hands remained thoroughly entangled in Zacharie's sweater as he breathed heavily, coming down from his high, and it occurred to him that Zacharie hadn't yet—

But then Zacharie's hands were grabbing his face and forcing his lips to his own in the darkness. The other man's mouth was relentless for those few final seconds, as though he was grabbing one last gift, and his mouth tasted like the Batter—

And then the Batter was pushed away. Once again, his back hit the invisible wall and he slumped down, legs shaking, and before he could speak the man's name the lights snapped back on.

They were still horrible and dim, but the Batter could see that Zacharie was gone.

The Batter looked down at himself, dishevelled, his shirt untucked, wet patch at the front of his pants, chest rising and falling with post-adrenaline breaths. His lips felt bruised.

His bat and cap lay a few feet away. Next to them was a cat-shaped mask.