Un-doings
A smutty Vince-fic by: Bee
Vincent smirked at his reflection in the wall to floor mirror. So, the girl was rather quick in a sticky situation. However, the mirror must have given her quite a fright. He watched the blood pour from the faucets reflection, with much the same marvel, as Heather must have done. Only Vincent knew that the blood would not materialize, not for him. No, the girl alone reserved the frights.
There was no real reason for her to examine this room, but with the ignorant need to check everything out, she would accidentally on purpose step into a room that could potentially be her fate. Oh, how she must have gasped in horror as the nightmarish image began to happen in the room she stood. How her reflection became covered in the gore, much the same as Vincent's was now.
When the door refused to open, despite her pleas, Vincent stood outside the Storage Room door, twirling the key around his little finger. It served her right, wandering off the path for the big bad wolf. How he had smiled in secret satisfaction. The thin wispy tendrils of blood seem to know she was there, as they creep across the linoleum, as if they desire to creep up her legs.
Those legs, covered in the gore that she returned to stare at inside the glass. The mirror does not lie; it foretells her fate, stopping her reflection, as if the vines consume her very soul. Then they touch her feet, and she races for the door.
Just outside, Vincent can her the first cry of pain as the blood acts not as is, but as little razors shooting up into her feet, then up her legs, draining away her own life. Until Vincent unlocks the door, and the terrified blond bolts through. She does not even pause to spare a glance behind at Vincent's smirking face behind the opened door.
"She could've died, that Heather, and all for your precious God Claudia." Vincent growls now at his stilled reflection, covered in grimy crimson residue. That Claudia, torturing the poor girl, making her hate, making her hurt. When will the damned woman realize...
It didn't matter. Nothing mattered. He supposed that it was time to head over to the hotel, to catch the girl off guard. After all, it was his duty to lead her to Claudia, to throw off that crazy bitch. Secretly, Vincent also thought, it was to get rid of Douglas. He wanted to be there to greet Heather after the hospital ordeal, not that damned detective.
"He wants to be a father to her," He sneered again. "The girl does not need another Father, she is nearly an adult, and she needs a lover, a husband, someone to treat her as something other than the pawn that she has been played as." Vincent shook his head and pushed up his glasses. "I don't count," He told the voice in his head. "I'm not for her."
"But neither is he." It persisted. "Besides, you do feel for her, even if it is in some sick un-priest-like way. Unholy father." It mocked. "That thing between you're legs doesn't lie."
True it was, in fact, Vincent's dirty brown slacks had indeed gotten tighter. He adjusted it with one surly gesture. After a moment of staring hatefully into his unmoving reflection, Vincent threw a little fit into the process of unbuttoning his fly. The damnable aching organ was not going anywhere anytime soon, and the voice certainly wouldn't shut up until he gave in to the blasphemous fantasy.
As if Heather could feel this for me. As Vincent stroked himself, long and even, he imagined that the girl would return, and fear not the mirror because if it would not touch Vincent, it would not touch her. Her hands, how silky they would feel against his fevered flesh and the thought of her puckered pink mouth made him drip with unholy passion. The bloody image of him moved not an inch, and Vincent began to wonder if it would after he finished.
He made a sound that the priest did not often make, gripping and twisting, pulling and pushing until his hips shook with enough force to knock him to his knees, and he came, oozing over his fisted fingers. He stared hard at his unmoving body. The mirror felt cool pressed against his cheek; his hot heavy breath fogged it just slightly. In rapture, his green eyes followed the white globs spill from the stiff, bloody, corpse-like figure. It took only a moment for it to blend in with its surroundings, but in the seconds that it was different, it gave Vincent sick shuddering pleasure.
After, thankfully, getting clean water from the sink, Vincent left the hospital and arrived at Jacks Inn just in time to intercept Heather. He got rid of Douglas only by telling him Claudia's whereabouts. The foolish woman had just seconds ago told him herself.
"Tell Heather where the Church is as well Vincent; she would like to know too."
"I'll be sure to tell her then Douglas," Vincent smiled at his little victory. "Oh! And Douglas," he stopped the older man in the doorway.
"Yeah?"
"Do be careful."
When Heather eventually arrived, she'd been nonplussed and non-too-happy to see him. After receiving adorable scorn from her did she follow his directions. He'd been good this time; he'd delivered the message that Douglas left, only giving them both the unneeded detour through the Lakeside Amusement park.
It would serve as another test for the girl, and perhaps get rid of that annoying cop along the way. Vincent laughed heartily to himself as he disappeared into the fog, taking delight in the fact that he could have easily rowed the girl across the lake to the church himself.
It seemed that all he did was run amuck and cause chaos for the poor girl, perhaps he would go to hell as Claudia predicted after all. It did not matter though, Vincent was sure that wherever he would be going, he'd see Claudia there as well.
When the girl finally arrived at the haunted mansion, Vincent waited in the upper broadcasting room to play narrator for a while.
"Welcome to the Borely Haunted Mansion..." He stuck the end of his glasses in his mouth as he watched the curious girl on the monitors. How he loved to toy with her.
"That was supposed to be the exit!" He drawled on, watching twisted and happy as the corridor incinerated itself behind her thumping feet. There was something exciting about watching the girl escape with little to spare. Though Vincent had no idea what he would do if the girl didn't make it...
Finally, Vincent walked up to the church and entered his beloved home. As he suspected, Claudia had warped reality there too, turning his only sanctuary into something arcane and inhuman. He stood arguing with the damnable woman for what seemed like hours. She drabbled nonsensically on about Alessa, then God and how Heather would be the one to birth her again.
"Paradise," She said, "We would all live in a paradise!" It was all Vincent could do not to slap the babbling bitch. He did not want paradise.
"I don't want that! I want my church...and my home—"
"And Alessa?" Claudia intoned dangerously, staring him down with her deadly bright blue gaze. She laughed sadistically at his baffled expression. "You can't honestly believe that you're obsession eluded my sight? I know all Vincent, I even knew of the sacrilegious feelings for my dear Alessa. You cannot have her Vincent, she is, was, and always will be mine."
"Unholy for you too," Vincent snarked, curling his lip in disgust. "Besides, once she birth's God, there will be no more Alessa, or Cheryl, or Heather. God will consume her flesh and soul, and leave you with only her memory."
"What is it that you want Vincent?" Claudia asked, turning her head and pinching the bridge of her nose.
"Well, for the two of you to die," He lied. "That would be nice."
"If you continue to get in my way. . ." Claudia threatened, but he was past the point of caring.
"Then you'll kill me?" Vincent was startled out of staring the woman down when Heather burst into the room, looking very frazzled, angry, and extremely delectable.
"...Kill this crazy bitch..." Vincent heard himself telling the girl.
"You'll go to HELL!"
Vincent had barely registered the harsh, angry words when pain seared through him. He jerked forward as the blade dug deep and twisted in his back. It was so like Claudia to attack from behind. The last thing Vincent registered at the edges of his fading vision was Heather's surprised face. Perhaps the girl did feel something after all.
Vincent came back around a few minutes later, lightheaded, but alive nonetheless. For how long he didn't know, and the least he could do was help the poor girl out.
"Use the seal!" He exclaimed. "Now you're stupid dream is over," Even though it hurt so badly to talk, Vincent still had enough in him to put down Claudia.
Heather looked pleasantly confused as she pulled out the seal of Metatron, and much to Vincent's horror, Claudia's face twisted into an evil grin.
"That's just a piece of junk," she sneered, and then gave the final blow to Vincent's prone body.
Heather stood next to that annoying detective, laughing about something that the eavesdropper could not quite hear. He stayed in the shadows for a moment, watching her flick back her hair, smiling happily at the older man, and he laughed as well, even in his pained state.
Heather turned at the click of a heel on the pavement to her right. Vincent emerged from the shadows, rubbing his chest in the spot where he had sustained the stab wound.
"Vincent!" Heather exclaimed, startling him. "You're alive! How? I—I seen—I watched her—"
"God is dead. Claudia's evil doings are all undone," Vincent shrugged nonchalantly. "I suspect there is still a scar somewhere deep inside, but evil doings included me too. Douglas as well."
They both watched the cop get to his feet and flex his leg.
"I'm glad you're okay," Heather admitted.
"Does this mean we're friends?" Vincent ventured. "I was always on your side."
"Friends?" Heather asked.
"For now," Vincent smirked. "C'mon, let's get the hell out of here."
"If I ever see Silent Hill again as long as I live," Heather commented quietly as Vincent's arm came around her waist and Douglas's around her shoulders. "It'll be too soon."
Vincent, with the help of Douglas, steered the girl out of the park and off into the choking fog.
OWARI
A smutty Vince-fic by: Bee
Vincent smirked at his reflection in the wall to floor mirror. So, the girl was rather quick in a sticky situation. However, the mirror must have given her quite a fright. He watched the blood pour from the faucets reflection, with much the same marvel, as Heather must have done. Only Vincent knew that the blood would not materialize, not for him. No, the girl alone reserved the frights.
There was no real reason for her to examine this room, but with the ignorant need to check everything out, she would accidentally on purpose step into a room that could potentially be her fate. Oh, how she must have gasped in horror as the nightmarish image began to happen in the room she stood. How her reflection became covered in the gore, much the same as Vincent's was now.
When the door refused to open, despite her pleas, Vincent stood outside the Storage Room door, twirling the key around his little finger. It served her right, wandering off the path for the big bad wolf. How he had smiled in secret satisfaction. The thin wispy tendrils of blood seem to know she was there, as they creep across the linoleum, as if they desire to creep up her legs.
Those legs, covered in the gore that she returned to stare at inside the glass. The mirror does not lie; it foretells her fate, stopping her reflection, as if the vines consume her very soul. Then they touch her feet, and she races for the door.
Just outside, Vincent can her the first cry of pain as the blood acts not as is, but as little razors shooting up into her feet, then up her legs, draining away her own life. Until Vincent unlocks the door, and the terrified blond bolts through. She does not even pause to spare a glance behind at Vincent's smirking face behind the opened door.
"She could've died, that Heather, and all for your precious God Claudia." Vincent growls now at his stilled reflection, covered in grimy crimson residue. That Claudia, torturing the poor girl, making her hate, making her hurt. When will the damned woman realize...
It didn't matter. Nothing mattered. He supposed that it was time to head over to the hotel, to catch the girl off guard. After all, it was his duty to lead her to Claudia, to throw off that crazy bitch. Secretly, Vincent also thought, it was to get rid of Douglas. He wanted to be there to greet Heather after the hospital ordeal, not that damned detective.
"He wants to be a father to her," He sneered again. "The girl does not need another Father, she is nearly an adult, and she needs a lover, a husband, someone to treat her as something other than the pawn that she has been played as." Vincent shook his head and pushed up his glasses. "I don't count," He told the voice in his head. "I'm not for her."
"But neither is he." It persisted. "Besides, you do feel for her, even if it is in some sick un-priest-like way. Unholy father." It mocked. "That thing between you're legs doesn't lie."
True it was, in fact, Vincent's dirty brown slacks had indeed gotten tighter. He adjusted it with one surly gesture. After a moment of staring hatefully into his unmoving reflection, Vincent threw a little fit into the process of unbuttoning his fly. The damnable aching organ was not going anywhere anytime soon, and the voice certainly wouldn't shut up until he gave in to the blasphemous fantasy.
As if Heather could feel this for me. As Vincent stroked himself, long and even, he imagined that the girl would return, and fear not the mirror because if it would not touch Vincent, it would not touch her. Her hands, how silky they would feel against his fevered flesh and the thought of her puckered pink mouth made him drip with unholy passion. The bloody image of him moved not an inch, and Vincent began to wonder if it would after he finished.
He made a sound that the priest did not often make, gripping and twisting, pulling and pushing until his hips shook with enough force to knock him to his knees, and he came, oozing over his fisted fingers. He stared hard at his unmoving body. The mirror felt cool pressed against his cheek; his hot heavy breath fogged it just slightly. In rapture, his green eyes followed the white globs spill from the stiff, bloody, corpse-like figure. It took only a moment for it to blend in with its surroundings, but in the seconds that it was different, it gave Vincent sick shuddering pleasure.
After, thankfully, getting clean water from the sink, Vincent left the hospital and arrived at Jacks Inn just in time to intercept Heather. He got rid of Douglas only by telling him Claudia's whereabouts. The foolish woman had just seconds ago told him herself.
"Tell Heather where the Church is as well Vincent; she would like to know too."
"I'll be sure to tell her then Douglas," Vincent smiled at his little victory. "Oh! And Douglas," he stopped the older man in the doorway.
"Yeah?"
"Do be careful."
When Heather eventually arrived, she'd been nonplussed and non-too-happy to see him. After receiving adorable scorn from her did she follow his directions. He'd been good this time; he'd delivered the message that Douglas left, only giving them both the unneeded detour through the Lakeside Amusement park.
It would serve as another test for the girl, and perhaps get rid of that annoying cop along the way. Vincent laughed heartily to himself as he disappeared into the fog, taking delight in the fact that he could have easily rowed the girl across the lake to the church himself.
It seemed that all he did was run amuck and cause chaos for the poor girl, perhaps he would go to hell as Claudia predicted after all. It did not matter though, Vincent was sure that wherever he would be going, he'd see Claudia there as well.
When the girl finally arrived at the haunted mansion, Vincent waited in the upper broadcasting room to play narrator for a while.
"Welcome to the Borely Haunted Mansion..." He stuck the end of his glasses in his mouth as he watched the curious girl on the monitors. How he loved to toy with her.
"That was supposed to be the exit!" He drawled on, watching twisted and happy as the corridor incinerated itself behind her thumping feet. There was something exciting about watching the girl escape with little to spare. Though Vincent had no idea what he would do if the girl didn't make it...
Finally, Vincent walked up to the church and entered his beloved home. As he suspected, Claudia had warped reality there too, turning his only sanctuary into something arcane and inhuman. He stood arguing with the damnable woman for what seemed like hours. She drabbled nonsensically on about Alessa, then God and how Heather would be the one to birth her again.
"Paradise," She said, "We would all live in a paradise!" It was all Vincent could do not to slap the babbling bitch. He did not want paradise.
"I don't want that! I want my church...and my home—"
"And Alessa?" Claudia intoned dangerously, staring him down with her deadly bright blue gaze. She laughed sadistically at his baffled expression. "You can't honestly believe that you're obsession eluded my sight? I know all Vincent, I even knew of the sacrilegious feelings for my dear Alessa. You cannot have her Vincent, she is, was, and always will be mine."
"Unholy for you too," Vincent snarked, curling his lip in disgust. "Besides, once she birth's God, there will be no more Alessa, or Cheryl, or Heather. God will consume her flesh and soul, and leave you with only her memory."
"What is it that you want Vincent?" Claudia asked, turning her head and pinching the bridge of her nose.
"Well, for the two of you to die," He lied. "That would be nice."
"If you continue to get in my way. . ." Claudia threatened, but he was past the point of caring.
"Then you'll kill me?" Vincent was startled out of staring the woman down when Heather burst into the room, looking very frazzled, angry, and extremely delectable.
"...Kill this crazy bitch..." Vincent heard himself telling the girl.
"You'll go to HELL!"
Vincent had barely registered the harsh, angry words when pain seared through him. He jerked forward as the blade dug deep and twisted in his back. It was so like Claudia to attack from behind. The last thing Vincent registered at the edges of his fading vision was Heather's surprised face. Perhaps the girl did feel something after all.
Vincent came back around a few minutes later, lightheaded, but alive nonetheless. For how long he didn't know, and the least he could do was help the poor girl out.
"Use the seal!" He exclaimed. "Now you're stupid dream is over," Even though it hurt so badly to talk, Vincent still had enough in him to put down Claudia.
Heather looked pleasantly confused as she pulled out the seal of Metatron, and much to Vincent's horror, Claudia's face twisted into an evil grin.
"That's just a piece of junk," she sneered, and then gave the final blow to Vincent's prone body.
Heather stood next to that annoying detective, laughing about something that the eavesdropper could not quite hear. He stayed in the shadows for a moment, watching her flick back her hair, smiling happily at the older man, and he laughed as well, even in his pained state.
Heather turned at the click of a heel on the pavement to her right. Vincent emerged from the shadows, rubbing his chest in the spot where he had sustained the stab wound.
"Vincent!" Heather exclaimed, startling him. "You're alive! How? I—I seen—I watched her—"
"God is dead. Claudia's evil doings are all undone," Vincent shrugged nonchalantly. "I suspect there is still a scar somewhere deep inside, but evil doings included me too. Douglas as well."
They both watched the cop get to his feet and flex his leg.
"I'm glad you're okay," Heather admitted.
"Does this mean we're friends?" Vincent ventured. "I was always on your side."
"Friends?" Heather asked.
"For now," Vincent smirked. "C'mon, let's get the hell out of here."
"If I ever see Silent Hill again as long as I live," Heather commented quietly as Vincent's arm came around her waist and Douglas's around her shoulders. "It'll be too soon."
Vincent, with the help of Douglas, steered the girl out of the park and off into the choking fog.
OWARI