"I don't feel any shame, I wont apologize
When there ain't nowhere you can go.
Running away from pain
When you've been victimized...
Tales from another broken home"

--

Nine o'clock. Delilah headquarters, blending in with the rest of higher class london, blending into a world oblivious. Cassandra Gladstone was a proud example of this. Such a noble figure, such a hero to the common man. Such a joke. He hated the lower class, they where cockroaches beneath his feet, the only exceptions being a few of the more attractive prostitutes here and there. Of course, It was not as if he treated them much different, they where just dolls in his possession. He'd do with them as he pleased. Whatever he pleased.

The door to his room almost closed, allowing just a little light to shine out into the dark hallway. Completely silent but for a few pleasured moans, aswell as pained ones... The motions in the room ceased, and shortly after the sound of metal clanking onto wood was heard, as a pair of shackles where undone and dropped to the floor.

Almost half past nine. A few words where exchanged before the door swung open, A younger man stepping out, still adjusting his tie and straitening his clothing. Doctor Jizabel Disraeli. Deliliahs Death card, or so he had been for the past ten days... This was precisely why he never wanted that title to be official. The violation of his mind by that sick bastard, and now... Now he was defiling even more at any chance he got.

But the Cardmasters word was law.

He swallowed, and began to make his way back to his own quarters. His legs still shaking, and that mans taste still fresh in his mouth. He took a deep breath, as more queasy feelings rose, and held his hand to his mouth fighting the urge to vomit. He drew his hand back, glancing very briefly at the red marks on his wrists where Cassandra had chained him down.

"Disgusting..."

He took another breath, trying to compose himself, when he heard movement behind him and turned sharply.

Cassian, a trump card, The doctors current assistant... and so far the most persistent. He froze, swallowing at the realization he'd been caught, although it didn't come as much of a shock to him. It wasn't as if he expected to follow the doctor around all evening and not be noticed.

"...How long... have you been standing there?"

The doctor received no answer from him, and the tension between them was growing ever thicker.

"...How long?" He demanded, stepping towards the 'boy'.

"...That was... Cassandra's room..." Cassian murmured, finally, letting the reality of the situation sink in. Jizabel stepped back, Cassian could just barely notice him shaking, but said nothing.

"...Yes." He murmured, his eyes wandering over the tiles on the floor, his intense nausea only growing worse.

Cassian took a few steps towards him, about to reach out when Jizabel knocked the subordinates hand away from him. Cassian withdrew his hand, ignoring any pain the doctor may have inflicted. Before Cassian could say anything more, however, Jizabel had already bolted down the hall towards his own quarters. Cassian gasped, then took a breath before following after him.

This was going to be a long night.

TBC

--

Chapter one is up, yaaaaaaay. This shall be a total-slash-fest-of-doom, I swear to god... That was JUST the prologue, so yeah, it's short... next chapters will be full length. Note that this fic is a writers block buster, so it may be very long and have an actual ending... Or I may get bored, and just drop it off at the end. Ehhehh... I have no obligation to finnish it...

but I probably will.

So enjoy, and R&R please. Next chapter coming... soon-ish... Oh, and the song lyrics are Green Day, a section near the end of Jesus of Suburbia.