Loki
You wanted it to be personal, that sometimes you found yourself imagining how you would like it to go deep into the night.
You showed up in the obscure, discreet hotel room where he stayed with another hookup just as he was about to touch the disgusting whore. If anything, your father wasn't surprised to see you. He greeted you with a haughty grin and you thought that the man you were unfortunate enough to be sired by would never be surprised by anything. He quickly ushered the unknown woman as if she was just another face in his little conquest.
Just like your mother.
You clenched your teeth, surprised by the shock of irreversible hatred you felt and you turned to look at the man who has become a keystone of your waking life, remembering the end of your childhood that was curb-stomped by this very existence. Both of you were worlds apart.
He relaxed on the elegant, high-backed lounge chair and said, "I've been waiting for you."
You tilted your head to the side and smiled. There was a mirror in front of you and your eyes glinted under the dim lighting. Your eyes were the only part of you that you inherited from him and you loved how the reddish eyes with brown hue were reflected back to their original owner.
You opened your mouth, circling him as you coloured the dismal room with your voice. You knew that your voice was pleasant, after all, you have used everything predisposed to you as a tool to serve your purposes. You often felt like you really were his son when you thought like that and you grinned.
He was your father, but he was also someone who never did anything during your whole life. You craved his approval, his pride that validated your presence. You did everything he told you to because you were his son. Because meeting his expectation would eventually gave you a place amongst the Shido family. It was a different case with your mother, since she gained your love simply by existing.
But slowly, you understood. You wanted to love someone else that deeply someday. Just like how your mother loved this utter trash, to the point of where she can accept parts of him that no one else could.
And to you, everyone else were insignificant puppets with strings attached to their heads. Until the thieves came along. Until Akira came along.
Akira... Akira was different. You never knew anyone who could risk limbs and identity and life for you, not without any agenda or careful acts behind it. You were only useful to your father because he could throw you away without any remorse. Akira saved you anyway. That was what made Joker so important.
Your love was disturbing. It was malice and manipulation and betrayal and unerringly yours. In your imagination, Akira and your father understood that.
"How do you feel right now?" You asked in a light tone and when your father didn't answer, you stepped forward directly into his line of vision and he looked at you like what you were supposed to be.
You felt real, defined and meaningful in a way you have craved before. He looked at you like how a master would see his vassal and you changed under his watch. You felt the tug of your another self but you didn't want to let go. You wanted to be the only thing your father saw.
Your sire drank the golden-coloured champagne. He gazed upon you and you have never felt so entitled to be the focus of his attention before. "I created you, didn't I? You disgusting monster." He said with a smug look so familiar on his face.
Everyone was corrupted by this man, including you. You wanted to reach out, to feel the quiet thrum of life beneath his veins but you only smiled as you towered yourself over him. You were stronger, you have the complete control over every minute detail of your contour and you knew that you had him wrapped around your fingers.
You breathed out, "Am I your son now?"
There was a small tinge of fear on your tone, but it was alright, you wanted to absolve yourself in his eyes.
Your father smiled and regarded you with a foreign expression on that powerful, confident face. "Yes, you have always been my dutiful son."
"I'm your precious Death God, too. Why? Did you think I was the helpless five years old child that cried over his mother's body that was suspended to the attic by the ropes?"
He grew quiet, but your father still regarded you with a contemplative look. The silence between you and your father was stretched out but you simply waited as you observed the room with your trained eyes. French windows that spanned out the best view to the sea, a soundproofed room that ensure the guests' privacy and tiled floor that was easy to clean.
As you waited, you walked to the carved windows and closed the expensive curtains, drenching the room in absolute darkness before you turned on the bedside lamp.
"I know." Your father finally said.
You clasped your hands behind your back, "It'll be painless."
"I know."
"You have to stop."
"I'm at the pinnacle of power. I can't."
You said, soothingly. "I'll help."
A smirk, proud and unbidden. "...My choice in your name wasn't wrong, after all. Akechi, you are my most valuable asset yet look where we end up."
"I'm your most useful vassal, father." You told him with a laugh and walked to the queen-sized bed to retrieve the exquisite duvet. You returned to the side of your beloved father and settled his figure under the warmth of the blanket.
"Huh, I thought you were about to replicate the Coup of Honno-ji." Your father sat back on the chair and closed his eyes.
You only shrugged and crossed your arms, "Too much trouble. Although, on the plus side it would erase the evidence that I was here but Tokyo has a busy night life. I wouldn't count on it to work before I could escape."
"Well?" His voice beckoned and you took it as the cue to continue, so you did.
"Police dogs can trace fire accelerants in arson investigation, so I'd rather keep physical evidence to the minimum." With your explanation, your father nodded and laid his head to the soft headrest. You tucked the duvet over him like how a good son should be.
With a gentle smile on your face, you left his bedroom and returned shortly, arriving with a glass of water on your left hand and a Glock on your right hand.
"I'll escort you to Hades personally." You said, warmly and comfortingly. You brought out the two items within his line of sight and said, "Your choice."
"Is that dissolved sleeping aid?" He pointed at the glass of water.
"More than enough." You nodded your head and brought the glass closer to your father. "I thought I could use the excuse of you not being elected as the next Prime Minister to overdose from trying to sleep peacefully without being hounded by reporters."
Perhaps it was the kinder option, since you also didn't want to get arrested.
At the last few inches before your father could reach the glass, you pulled it out and pointed the gun's muzzle to his temple. His shocked expression was priceless and you laughed, the soundproofed room muffling your sound.
You really were a cruel God.
"Did you know that more than fifty countries and hundreds of military organizations use Glock as their standard gun? The murder of one potential Prime Minister candidate could be the work of any foreign power that doesn't want you in that position." Deliberately, carefully, you rested the muzzle on your father's forehead.
You felt him trembled for a few seconds and you were mesmerized by the amount of control you had over him. The thrill of holding one's life on your fingertip was addictive and finally, you could see why the monster of your father was addicted to it.
You were your father's son, after all.
BANG!
The bag of flesh shuddered one last time and the head lolled to the side. The rich, scarlet blood stained the white headrest. You readjusted the disturbed blanket on your beloved father and kissed his forehead for the first time. You carefully avoided the dripping liquid so you won't have any of his filthy blood on your face and you left the room.
Akira grinned at you outside and you allowed his fingers to card through your hair, murmuring praises from his crooked smile. You didn't resent the gesture and you –almost- welcomed it. Because it was him, yet maybe wasn't.
The young man before you was like another version of him, his hair the darkest black you've ever seen, the skin so pale you could compare it to the moonlight. The glasses were gone, but just slightly, you could see the barest speck of yellow within his eyes. You saw your reflection in his silver eyes, your face deranged like a devil's and not a trace of your fake self to be seen.
You felt free.
With one last turn, you closed the door so as to not waking up the dead man inside.
"Good night, father."
Author Note:
Gah, this is sick. I don't think I can write another fic for a few more days... Anyhow, thanks for reading and if you like it, let me know.
The Coup of Honno-ji I mentioned was the coup where Akechi Mitsuhide betrayed Oda Nobunaga during the Sengoku era where the Temple of Honno-ji was burnt to ruin and where Oda Nobunaga presumably died.