By StarWolf
4/5/2005
Title:
Author: StarWolf (elendraug at yahoo dot com)
Fandom: Galerians
Rating: R
Pairing: ParanoxRion
Warnings: A/U, slash, violence
Disclaimer: Not mine, don't sue. plzkthxlol
Distribution: No archiving anywhere ever. If I want it somewhere, I'll put it there myself. :B
Summary: BreakAR(i)on.
Author's Notes: Wrote this before I finished the game, so. 8D; Just take it as it is. Written while listening to Akira Yamaoka's "Lifetime" (not the channel) on repeat. Mmm, frotteurism.
Bands of electricity snap tight to Rion's upper arms; before he has time to react, he's been knocked to the ground and is grounding the bolts of artificial lightning. Parano looms above him, the ceiling lights casting short shadows on the tiled floor. Laughing harshly, he steps forward and kicks his prey: once to each shin should do it. Rion sees only a silhouette against blinding brightness.
even pain can be
Viciously, Rion bares his teeth -- to the amusement of his opponent; he's not the one with veritable razors in his mouth, but he's sure that the look in his eyes might rival that gleaming ferocity. Parano grins, twirls the blades twice, and kneels down in a mockery of reverence. With sickening precision, he brings his hands to Rion's face, trailing first his fingertips and then the cruel metal down his cheeks. The red droplets could easily be clear (or cleared), but no change is made. Rion looks away as searing, tearing heat scalds his flesh. If he survives long enough, they'll leave scars.
He needs a way to distract him.
All it takes are a few synapses. Thinking but not on his feet, Rion breaks through the electric deathgrip long enough to run a flat, smooth palm along Parano's exposed skin. The blades remain horrifically close to his previously-threatened sockets, so he ventures lower. For a fleeting moment, Parano is stilled -- his breathing shaking ever-so-slightly, sparks jolting Rion uncomfortably every time the knife-wielding maniac inhales a bit more sharply. His eyelids flicker, his muscles twitch, his hands relax...for a second or two; as if unaware of reality, he braces his wrists against the linoleum, shallowly thrusts thrice against Rion, and pauses.
It's over too soon.
Before Rion has a chance to breathe a sigh of misguided relief, Parano's leaning far too near to his face. His eyes, rust-coloured whether with or without a lens, narrow dangerously, and 'too close for comfort' is quite an understatement. Carelessly sinking his teeth into Rion's bottom lip, he licks away the blood and muses that its metallic taste isn't as good. He rolls the 'r' in a sentence that's otherwise monotone.
"Won't work, Rion."
Grip on the handles reaffirmed, he doesn't hesitate -- the daggers are driven deep into Rion's chest: one above his shirt's zipper, and the other below. A disgusting squelch later, the blades are removed and once again poised in front of the psychic's physical vision.
Encroaching darkness can't steal the final sardonic words.
"I told you I would."