This one-shot is very dark; rated a high T. There are mentions of death, blood, and violence—none of which I advocate; it's shown in a negative light. Betrayal is bad, kids! There are also several hints of insanity, as well as possible abuse/manipulation. It's dark. I'm warning you now.
Also, there's Kavery! :D They kiss, but it ain't what I'd call "fluffy." It's AU. Maybe OOC. Yeah, pretty OOC. But there's a reason! So read anyway.
I listened to "Sometimes" by Skillet on loop while writing this. Perhaps you should do the same. ;) It influenced much of the story.
I don't own Dog With a Blog. Enjoy! Or try to . . .
* * * Queen of Pasadena * * *
She walked through the streets, smoke rising around her. Blood stained the ground as well as the end of her dress. Earphones sat snugly in her ears and a dark song blasted through them, one that reflected her emotions. Children cowered behind dumpsters as she passed, but she paid them no mind.
"It's a beautiful world," she mumbled. She pulled the right earphone out of her ear as she reached the fence. She typed in a long code on the keypad and pushed on the handle. With a forceful shove she got it open. A few short steps brought her to the shed, where she knocked lightly and allowed a grin to slid over her face.
The door opened and revealed her handsome beau. She fell into his arms and her heart fluttered when he planted a kiss on her cheek.
"How is my darling today?" he asked, pulling her upright.
"Lovely, as always," she replied. "I just got back from my walk. The city looks just wonderful."
"And by wonderful you mean full of destruction and chaos?"
She giggled. "But of course."
Along one wall of the shed were several computer monitors. She slid into the seat and removed her earphones, instead focusing on the displays. On one screen was an image of one of her husband's henchmen making an arrest on a juvenile offender. Most likely the child had profaned her darling's name, and that could hardly be accepted.
It was a haven here in Pasadena. Some would try to deny it, but after being cut off from the outside world by her husband's dome-like shield several years earlier, they had been much better off. Sure, the jails were ready to burst, but that wouldn't happen if the people could learn to behave themselves. People like her family. Why they had protested, she may never know. But they paid the price for their resistance. The bloodshed would not be necessary if the people would stop fighting back.
A sick grin slid across her face. She turned to her spouse and said, "I love it when the people fight back."
"It is rather amusing, isn't it?" he said, walking over and crouching beside her. "They think that if they fight, they can escape me. It's just not true. This is a gorgeous town, and it's all mine."
She made a pouty face and crossed her arms.
"Right," he said. "And yours, my lovely."
"Thank you," she said with a smile. "Oh, you know I love you."
"I know."
Their lips met in a passionate display, and she didn't regret a single second. He completed her, and to be against him made her feel whole.
"Ours is a dark love," he said as they pulled apart.
"Black was always a beautiful color."
"So true. You know, when I first met you, I wouldn't have assumed that black is the color of your heart."
"Maybe it wasn't then, but you turned me around. Evil has taken me over; you can be sure of that."
"Good. They would say that what you're doing is wrong; don't ever listen to them. You belong here, with me. They always were wrong, and they always will be." He stood up and moved to the other side of the room, picking up a blue mixture in a beaker on his way over.
She sat up straight and cocked her head. "You say that a lot." She spun the chair around and watched him fiddle with his chemicals on the other side of the shed. "Who is they?"
He stiffened. "They are people like Mother and your family. People who don't think that what we're doing is beneficial to the world. People who can't see that our control is better."
She stood up and walked over, dress swaying around her knees. "But it's not better for the world. We both know that." She put hand on his shoulder and he looked at her. "We made it better for us."
He grinned. "You understand. Some people just need to be in charge. You were always that way; it just took you a while to see that this is the way to have control."
"My silly idea of ruling a country according to a set of laws was ridiculous. Now I make the laws. And the people are too terrified of your technological constructs and torture to contradict you."
"Speaking of which, I'm developing a new serum to apply to prisoners. A form of torture, to put it lucidly. How would you like to test some?" He flashed a teasing grin.
"I think I'll pass," she said with a laugh. "Perhaps you can discover how to use it in a bomb, as you have done with your other poisons. It's so enjoyable to see whole masses of people suffering the effects."
"Perhaps I will. For now, our current bombs will have to do."
"They do an excellent job, although the population has begun to dwindle."
He shrugged. "Then we'll find a way to capture others outside our city and bring them. There will always be people to rule; don't fear, my love."
"I'm never afraid when I'm with you." She leaned her head on his shoulder and he wrapped an arm around her waist.
She enjoyed his embrace, melting into his touch. Tainted and sinful as they were, she loved every second she was with him.
Pain exploded in her chest and she coughed, pulling away from him. He stared at her with concern. She waved a hand as if to reassure him. "I'm fine," she said. "May . . . may I step outside for a moment?"
"My dear, you needn't ask. Just be careful no rebels snipe you down while you're out there."
"I think your electrified fence and gas bombs will take care of them. I'm not afraid."
She slipped out the door and stood in the backyard of the nearly-decimated house where her husband had once lived. She wasn't scared of the rebels; they had many precautions agains the revolutionaries who opposed their rule.
A small bench sat beneath the vines on the fence. She took a seat on it and placed a hand on her chest. She coughed again. It's just pain. It'll go away.
Smoke rose in the distance, probably from another protest fire. They happened almost daily in the town of Pasadena. The citizens couldn't accept that they were now under the rule of a single man and his beautiful bride. Maybe they weren't better off, but couldn't they just accept their fate?
The pain persisted, and she squeezed her eyes shut. "What is this?" she murmured. "What's happening?" An odd sense of déjà vu struck her with full-force. As far she knew, nothing like this had ever happened before. At the same time, however, it seemed incredibly familiar.
"This isn't you."
She jumped up at the voice and spun around. No one was there. She took a deep breath and brushed the hair out of her face. She wasn't crazy; there had been a voice.
"This isn't you, Avery."
There it was again! This time, when she turned around, she caught sight of something white coming out of the bushes beside the fence. Her mouth fell open and she sank to her knees. "S-Stan?" she mumbled. "B-But, you're . . . you're . . ."
"Avery," Stan said, his head lowered and his tail between his legs. "Who are you now?"
"I'm . . . I'm the Queen of Pasadena."
"So that's who you are. And have you ever thought that maybe you had to kill the old Avery to get here?"
She swallowed. "If she's gone, it's a good thing."
"No, it's not. You know it's not! The old Avery was full of love and goodness. This isn't who you really are. Something happened to you."
She folded her arms across her chest. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Stan looked at the shed. "It's him, isn't it?" His lip curled back and he growled.
"No," she protested. "No, Stan. Karl is wonderful. He treats me like I'm a queen . . . and because of him, I really am. He loves me, and I love him."
"He did something to you. You were right all along; he's pure evil!"
"He is, and so am I."
"That's what I'm trying to say, Avery! You're not!" Stan threw back his head and barked.
"Shh!" she hissed. "You want him to hear you?"
"I want him gone completely. I want the old Avery back. Think of everything you did to your family. To your parents, and to Chloe and Tyler. You hurt them! You ruined their lives! And what about your friends? Max and Lindsay are in jail because of you; because they didn't like Karl's new ideas. What about me? Do you remember what you did to me?"
A memory of a pained yelp echoed through her mind and she found herself cringing. "But . . . but . . . it wasn't to . . . I wasn't trying to . . ."
"Avery," Stan pleaded. "Come back to me. You need to fix this."
"N-No. Nothing's wrong. W-Why am I doubting now? I've never doubted him before. This can't be happening. Karl's good to me. H-He loves me. But . . . we've done so much wrong . . ."
"You're remembering what you've forgotten. Keep it up! I know it hurts, but you can't forget. You have to remember the truth . . ."
"Why are you doing this, Avery? No, stop! That's my bike! Put it down! W-What are you doing?"
"Run, Mrs. Crimmons! I'm sorry you had to see this. My sister's gone crazy!"
"Sweetie, you need to snap out of this! And put that thing down this instant, young lady!"
"This is not an acceptable phase in your life. I'm sorry, Avery, but I cannot condone what you're doing. Especially not that! Please don't hurt me!"
"We're best friends! Why me, Avery? No! Leave my hat alone!"
"New look, Avery? Not that I care. Um, what is that? Okay, maybe I do care about why you're pointing a gun at me."
A gun . . .
She fingered the weapon strapped to her thigh. Her eyes flicked to the shed door. No, she would never, ever in a million years use it on him. He was her husband. He loved her. He loved her.
"You know the truth," Stan said. His voice was now almost a whisper.
Her breathing quickened. It was all too much. She knew she was right. She knew he was right. This was some kind of dream. She patted the blood stains on her dress as if they could reignite her darkest desires.
The joy in the pain.
It was something her love had taught her many years ago. And for the first time, she questioned the philosophy behind it.
She pressed a hand to her forehead. The pain in her chest was stronger than ever. She stood up and almost fell forward. Her knees knocked together and her vision became fuzzy. Her arms strung like a thousand wasps had landed on her. She looked down to see the veins beneath her skin glowing an eerie red color.
"No," she whispered first, then she began to scream. "No! Stop lying to me, Stan! Stan! No! Stop!"
Blindly she reached for the closest object, which happened to be a decorative clay jar sitting near the bench. She hurled it in Stan's direction and flinched at the horrible crashing noise it made. Her legs gave way and she fell in a sobbing heap to the ground.
Warm arms wrapped around her, and she snuggled into the embrace. After a few seconds, she looked up into the face of her savior. He stood there with genuine worry covering his face. "What's the matter, Avery?" he asked.
"Stan was . . . he was lying to me."
"Stan?"
"He . . . he came out the bushes. He was talking to me."
His face twisted up into a mix of confusion and sympathy. "Avery, Stan . . . died two years ago. Don't you remember?"
Come to think of it, she did. She could hear his last strangled yelp echoing through her memory once more. That sent her into a fresh round of tears. She didn't know how to feel inside; there were too many truths and too many lies.
"Y-You love me, don't you? K-Karl, tell me that you love me!"
"I love you. I love you, Avery. I've always loved you. I always will."
"Good." She sighed, too exhausted and confused to say anything else. She took a few deep breaths, wincing at each new bout of pain in her chest. After a few seconds, she found the breath to say something else. "You did change me."
He sighed. His voice was full of desperation and honesty. "Everything I ever did, Avery, I did for you. I really do love you." He moved his hand around, and she saw a metal object in his fingers glint in the sunlight.
Something sharp pricked her upper arm, and she fell asleep.
Asleep in this dark love.
Well then. This whole thing was based off something Karl once said. I don't remember the episode, but I think it was Stan who asked him if he was making plans to take over the world. He said that conquering Pasadena would more than suffice. There you have it.
Hey, Karl's that evil. The whole crazy-Avery and Stan-coming-out-of-the-bushes and Karl-possibly-manipulating-her came about later on . . . like a few hours ago when I opened this document to start it. Still, I love how it turned out.
I only edited this once, so I apologize for any mistakes. Thanks for reading, and reviews are always wonderful. How many of you have I scarred for life? Have fun sleeping tonight! Sorry 'bout that. Hey, I warned you. Bye, everyone!