A.N. And so it begins. I've been looking forward to writing the third (and final) part of this story since the second ended. The trouble was I wanted to do something radically different to before since the first two were very similar. At long last, I thought of a plot and I've been trying to piece together how it will work. I'd love it to become like a jigsaw all coming together in the end but – let's be honest – I'll be lucky if I give a somewhat sensible conclusion. I've had a lot of fun writing other stuff, like some Kurtbastian, ficlets, even now I'm trying out some hero romance, but my heart belongs to dark!Klaine.
Info on the story: this takes place months after the ending of Funny Games II. There's a brief summery in the chapter but please ask if you aren't satisfied with it. This will be different in the sense Blaine now has Kurt alone and he has big, big plans for him which is essentially the story. I've had requests to strengthen Kurt into a true fighter and so I'm trying to accommodate that, just maybe not in the way you would have liked...sorry! Finn and Sebastian will be present too but, again, dynamics have changed. One of the story's characters will have a major progression and another will deteriorate. Can you guess who is who? My goal is to come full circle and (finally!) explore Blaine's past as well in keeping with his elusive nature. One final thing: if, along the way, you have an idea of what you would like to see then let me know. I got a handful of scene ideas for Funny Games II and I managed to use nearly all of them.
To thank everyone who has been showing interest in support, I'd be dissolving into gratuitous mush so I just wanted to tell DarrenCrissCat11 that when I got your review saying your birthday was on April 11th and that you would have liked something Funny Games related, I viewed it as a personal challenge. You see, nothing had been written. I hadn't planned on uploading until later because I thought I should plot out future chapters better before committing. But then I thought 'My birthday is the 16th of April, and I would flip out in delight if my favourite stories were updated – if she is half as excited as I am about fics being added then I want to meet the deadline of her birthday'. So I should thank you for giving me the motivation to actually start! Also, if authors that I follow are reading this...my birthday is on Thursday so...updates please? Teehee
Warnings: ...Gore. Lots of it. Sex. Lots of it. Foul language. Lots of- you get the idea. As with before, mental/emotional/physical torture. This is probably going to be a lot more violent than previous fics and the reason for that will be explained in chapter 2. If that makes you nervous then do not read. I'm not here to upset, I'm here to entertain with story ideas. Also, if general UK English spellings offend you then go read something less offensive. ;)
Disclaimer: I do not own Glee, Funny Games, or anything related to it. All I'm doing is merging the two together and forming a very OOC plot.
IF YOU HAVE NOT READ FUNNY GAMES I AND II, PLEASE GO READ THEM BEFORE STARTING THIS. *NOTHING* WILL MAKE SENSE IF YOU DON'T.
Was It Worth It?
The silent night was broken by the sound of a piercing shriek.
Mrs Rodgers took off running, leaving her now-deceased husband of twelve years in the living room of their farmhouse, his body hacked into three separate pieces. She fell into the parlour in wild tears which blinded her, hearing the sickening squelches of the axe being ripped out from Mr Rodger's round and full belly. The urge to throw up hit her hard but she knew she had to get up and move. She had to escape him. The stranger.
The slow moving thuds on the floor told her he was coming. Tearing out into the hallway again, Mrs Rodgers shrieked again as she almost collided with the stranger. He made no move to grab her so she continued running until she hit into the staircase. The broken vase glass from earlier cut into her bare feet and she fell onto the first step.
'Allison...' The stranger tutted in disappointment. He strolled up. His looming stature frightened her to the point of her quaking uncontrollably. His deep hazel eyes gazed down as he leaned on his axe. 'I told you not to turn round. I warned you, didn't I? I warned you that if you turned round, you would not like what you saw. And now look what you've done: you've stepped on the glass and you're going to get blood all over the beautiful original floorboards!'
The irony of his words seemed to be lost on him; he himself was drenched in blood and his boots had trekked thick stains right across the house. His handsome face which only an hour earlier was clean and youthfully innocent was now painted scarlet. His clothes were as prim and proper as they had been when he first arrived, a 'befuddled hiker who had lost his way in the miles of woodland forests surrounding their home', but bits of tissue and other bodily flesh gave away his horrified acts. How Mrs Rodgers could have pitied this boy and offered him a meal and a bed for the night was a torturous question she was asking herself as she feebly waved him away, pleading for him to stop. 'Please!' She screamed in hysteria, 'Leave us alone – Go away!'
The unmistakable pattering of little steps upstairs caused them both to pause. The stranger, who went by the name Blaine, drew his face upwards and hummed. 'Oh yeah. I almost forgot about little Sophie. She was tucked up in bed when I got here; I haven't had the pleasure of meeting her yet.'
The prospect brought on another howl from the wife and mother. 'No! Have mercy on her – she's a child! A baby!' She threw her arms out wide across the stairwell as if she stood any chance of blocking his way if he chose to go up. 'She's only three – you can't touch her!'
Blaine looked on with a sympathetic frown. 'Allison, when you make broad statements like that you're only opening yourself up to being proven wrong.' His hands slid down the handle of his axe in a wistful manner. He pulled it up off the ground a few inches and then let it fall to the floor with a bang. Mrs Rodgers shook and screamed nonsensical words, her head tossing side to side with tears splashing off her. 'But I can understand that this game we're playing is new to you – that's how it's supposed to be. You're only meant to play it once.' His hand lightly patted his pants pocket where what looked like a radio of some sort poked out into view. 'The fact is you can't do anything to help Sophie right now other than simply doing as I ask. If your husband had just listened to me then his death would have been a lot cleaner, believe me-'
'You're insane!' The woman sobbed, not even able to sound accusing in her statement. It was just a fact. 'Please – leave my daughter alone. She's n-not- How can you-?'
Blaine held up his hand, shaking his head. 'Allison, please, you don't need to tell me. And to prove how much I understand, I want to offer you a generous choice. Are you listening?' Mrs Rodgers could not control her cries but Blaine was able to speak over them. He leaned in and smiled warmly. 'I'm giving you the choice. Do I kill you first, or little Sophie?' The farmer's wife was hit with horrific disbelief at the question allowing two seconds of sudden silence before she wailed once more, rejecting such a choice. Blaine sighed and rolled his eyes. 'I'm playing with one man short these days, the fact I'm giving you this opportunity is very gracious of me. I hope you appreciate it.' He took a step closer and the woman plastered herself against the stairs as if it would protect her child. 'It's really straightforward. Either you offer to be killed first – in which case, I will promise to keep it all quick and as painless as possible – or you continue to argue with me and be forced to listen to the worst sounds any parent could ever hear as I do to your daughter what I just did to your husband.' As the woman tried to claw out her own eyes in despair, Blaine winced with his fingers drumming on the banister. 'And trust me – as someone who has given this choice to others before you – if I were me, I would want to go first. The alternative is worse.'
Mrs Rodgers collapsed on the hallway floor, the broken glass which hadn't already pierced her feet now cut her arms and knees. She mumbled ferociously for Blaine to change his mind, to spare her and her daughter or at least her daughter who was probably running around her little pink bedroom wondering why mommy sounded so sad. Her hands tugged helplessly at Blaine's pants. The same man who just barbarically killed her husband remained as still and as silent as a saint. There was no budging and, with nothing else to do, she eventually nodded. 'F-Fine...kill me.' She wept. 'And please...if there is a-any good in you...don't let her suffer.'
Blaine watched. He then held up his hand in oath. 'I swear, she won't.' And with that he motioned for her to stand up and head back to the living room so she could die alongside Mr Rodgers. She stood and numbly wiped off glass from her skin. She took four slow steps leading them along the hall. She didn't manage a fifth step; Blaine cheerfully swooped up his axe, twirled it in his hands, and then swung the blade into the back of her head.
The crunch of a skull breaking was too much. Kurt felt his body go through the motions of throwing up but there was nothing left in his stomach to give. His eyes burned and stung like hell from all the crying and dry heaving he had been doing in the last hour. Fixed on the wall mere inches from his ears was a walkie-talkie. It was a top-of-the-range product, Blaine had made sure of that; every word, every movement, every breath was as clear as day and might as well have taken place in the hay barn where Kurt was currently bound in.
His ankles and wrists were tied tight and parts of his body strapped to the wall. He had questioned the excessiveness of Blaine's handiwork until he had heard the farmer's first scream when Blaine cut off his thumb in a game of 'How Many Fingers Am I Holding Up?' At hearing the agonising pain, Kurt had desperately tried to knock himself unconscious in order to not be forced to listen to the gore which was coming. However, that had been his method to escape the experience at the last house that had been attacked, and Blaine had been furious, vowing to not let Kurt escape it again. And he was true to his word; he had tied Kurt up so tight there was really nothing he could do but sit and listen.
Blaine wanted him to listen. He wanted him to hear the art of playing his game. It was all charisma, or so Blaine wanted him to believe, there's no fun in simply storming a place. You have to earn your entrance with mastered expressions, confusing backstories and charming your soon-to-be victims into inviting you into their home. Kurt had begged him not to put him through this but his tears did nothing. Things had changed.
They had been 'on the run' for months now – Kurt couldn't be sure how many anymore – but Blaine had only just resumed his killing spree within the last two weeks. He had told Kurt he couldn't lay low any longer; his fingers were itching for action and he felt himself grow rusty. Kurt had to ask himself what had he been expecting when he had agreed to go with him. Had he thought he was doing the world a favour by sacrificing himself as Blaine's one and only victim? Did he really believe that Blaine would stop his murdering ways for him? He loves me. That's what he believes. But his form of love is not pure and good: it is evil. I should have known he'd do this to me.
At first, Blaine kept Kurt under extreme wraps. Even with the teenager's promise that he would follow his direction and never try to undermine him, they only travelled at night. They had stayed in isolated homes like cabins or abandoned houses until the older man grew tired of the lack of comfort. He reiterated to Kurt his plan to gut his step brother if he stepped one toe out of line but then started trusting him to keep quiet as they rented motel and hotel rooms. At one point, as Blaine went through a stage of only wanting to sleep and fuck uninterrupted, they stayed in a first-class manor house for nearly three months. The large empty building only proved to make Kurt feel more alone, even when he was given the freedom to use the vast library or swim in the pool (supervised, of course), so when Blaine first mentioned moving on to somewhere else Kurt was actually relieved. However, if he had known what unthinkable mental and emotional torture Blaine planned to put him through next with listening to countless people die at the handsome raven-haired man's hands, Kurt would have clung to the manor gates for dear life.
A thud came from the barn door. Kurt's eyes widened in alarm. The walkie-talkie had gone silent after the apparent murder of Allison Rodgers but he hadn't noticed, too lost in his own turmoil. He couldn't stop his hopes from rising; could the person coming into the barn be someone who can help him? Surely Blaine hadn't enough time to go after the daughter and walk the five minute back to the barn? But, sure enough, the barn door opened and a smirking, blood-drenched Blaine sauntered in. Seeing him like this and knowing why he looked the way he did almost made Kurt sick again; he was so proud of himself and his eyes sparkled like jewels under the dipping moonlight. 'Ah, you managed to stay awake this time, beautiful,' he praised him. It left a bitter taste in Kurt's mind as he would have given anything to have knocked himself out earlier. Blaine swung around his axe lazily before dropping it on a nearby hay stack. He strode up to the bound teenager and ran a hand through his rich brown locks
'You killed the girl?' Kurt's voice came out as a croak, hoarse from all the screaming he did earlier to try and drown out the walkie-talkie.
Blaine shrugged, pulling his shirt off in the process to reveal clean, golden skin. 'I looked in on her. She showed me her toys; the kid is far too trusting.' Kurt stared at him wide-eyed until Blaine sighed. 'There's no fun in killing a kid, Kurt. They don't understand any of the rules. I locked her in her bedroom-'
'She'll starve to death!' Kurt tried to yell but it came out as a strained gasp.
Blaine narrowed his eyes and calmly straddled his hips on the ground. Kurt shifted uncomfortably but knew better than to believe he could stop Blaine from doing as he wished. 'Watch your tone, Kurt.' He warned, 'I already let you away with so much, don't push your luck.'
'Please,' Kurt steeled himself to look his captor in the eye though even now the act took every ounce of willpower he had, 'don't leave her there. We can drop her in the nearest town; at least there she'll be found. Give her a fighting chance.' He knew his caring words were falling on insensitive ears so he tried to appeal to Blaine's orderly side. 'If she dies because of a lack of food and water, it'll be sloppy. That's not how you play your game. There's an art to it, right?'
A fond smile breached Blaine's face. It was a smile used for a child who was trying to trick a parent who was not falling for it. 'Nice try,' He cupped Kurt's jaw with a bloodied hand and swooped down for a kiss. His tongue ran the length of Kurt's bottom lip before he captured it with his teeth. Kurt let out a whimper of pain but couldn't move his head an inch thanks to the strap keeping him in place. The sudden metallic taste of blood which wasn't his met Kurt's senses and he tried to force it out; he only succeeded in meeting Blaine's tongue with his own. Blaine moaned into him, his hands already moving to unstrap and undress his prisoner. 'I'll tell you what, baby,' he muttered, his voice low, guttural and hungry – brutal killings seemed to be an aphrodisiac to his twisted nature, 'if you ride me hard enough, I'll consider your idea. Because I want to be good to you.' He leaned his forehead on his and lightly toyed with his lip. 'I want this to work, don't you? It's all give...and take. I love you.'
The words were like a dagger in Kurt's heart.
I love you, Kurt.
You are my one and only love.
You are my everything now. You're mine and I'm yours. You'll learn to love me back...
Why was Kurt doing this? He asked himself that question every day, and the answer was always the same: Finn. He couldn't bear to even think his name, it hurt too much. However, he would tell himself every day that he made the right decision. If he hadn't gone with Blaine and if he hadn't been the most well-behaved kidnap victim then Finn would most likely be dead by now. Or worse. He knew what Blaine had done to people before and to think of him finally laying a hand on his brother made Kurt want to bawl and thrash about. Yet...when the screams of innocent people haunt your dreams and your 'lover' smears you with the blood of his kills every night when he fucks you raw, you cannot help but hate every morsel of your being for being in your position. He might have had one or two possible opportunities to escape, but the voice inside his head would always yell in its panicked tone to not even try. He feared Blaine too much. And if he succeeded? He would have gone back on his promise to stay with him, and Blaine would waste no time on going back on his side of the deal.
So...this was Kurt's life now. His life was to try, in vain, to block out the echoes of children crying and pleas for mercy, the crunching of bones, the gasps for air and the sickening sound of torn flesh. He would tell himself he had no choice; he couldn't live in a world where he was responsible for Finn's death. But a part of him – a part that was crouched in terror behind some mass of brain tissue – would whisper that anything had to be better than what he was living through now.
He could be forgiven for not realising that Blaine had not even begun.
A.N. Am I right in saying this is a very tame beginning? Enjoy it while it lasts. Teasers for next chapter: Finn, sex, romance and Kurt is blown away by an insane request of Blaine's. Please review or PM with your verdict!