This is very much darkly mature material. Probably nothing like the prompter expected/wanted, but hopefully they'll still like it.
Theme provided by: Tigerlilith
Rating: M for disturbing violence and general psychotic motivations.
014. Trapped
It was getting to be funny how terrible his luck was this week. He probably would have laughed if there wasn't a blade digging into his throat and six guns pointed at his head. Even so the need to was almost overpowering as he was dragged toward a tragically cliché panel van. Eric had betrayed him, luring him into an alley between storage warehouses on the wharf in order to jump him. He'd joined with the very group Hayner and Seifer were working on taking out right now which just spoke of bad taste beyond the disgusting lack of faithfulness Eric had to the organization. The cloth over his mouth as he was pulled into the vehicle was hardly a surprise. As Hayner faded out he managed to land a kick to the face of the man in front of him and chuckled under his breath.
Looking at his watch, he frowned deeply and looked back through his scope at the compound. His partner was never late and should have been here ten minutes ago, unless something has happened during his meeting with Eric. A van caught his attention, passing the gate and pulling up to the main entrance to the largest building. Two men got out of the front doors and went around to the back. Three more people got out, one of them carrying a person slung over their shoulder. His heart stuttered violently in his chest as he recognized Hayner, his boyfriend and partner dangling helplessly, clearly unconscious. A closer look at the others revealed their coworker among them and he almost took the clear shot he was offered. If he didn't think it would put his lover's life in even more jeopardy he would have blown the bastard's head off.
They hadn't had time to figure out the layout of the building yet, time the guard rota, or find weak points in the security yet; they were supposed to start working on that today. God fucking dammit. He sent a text to his boss, knowing the man would want to know one of his operatives had betrayed them in order to pull out any other agents on missions Eric knew about. Not only was every assignment threatened by this, but his partner was probably going to be tortured by the brunet agent and maybe even killed before Seifer could get to him. If he got ahold of the turncoat he was going to make him die very, very slowly.
Packing up his sniper rifle, he snarled darkly and started considering his options. Any more than two hours and Hayner was guaranteed to be dead unless Eric wanted to keep him alive for some other purpose. Checking his weapons, he climbed down the smaller building he'd used as a vantage point and set about finding the quickest way into the main area.
Groaning as he came to, arms and legs tied painfully tight to a chair, he opened his eyes into the harsh light of a fluorescent fixture. Eric was alone with him in the room, the very knife that he'd pressed into Hayner's throat earlier twirling through the air as he tossed and caught it idly. There was still some of his blood on the very edge of it, glinting metallic red in the light.
"Morning beautiful," he said, voice low as green eyes watched the lithe blond come to terms with his surroundings.
"What do you want with me, you fucking traitor?" He swore, anger peaking immediately.
"For one, I need you to bait your boyfriend into our trap. Once he's been dealt with, I plan to keep you as a pet. Maybe you'll be a little more receptive to my advances when you don't have anyone else in your life but me."
"No. Fucking. Way. I don't care if you were the last human being on Earth, I'd just shack up with a goddamn dog."
"How about if I kept your boyfriend alive? Would you cooperate with me if I held him hostage?" The double-agent asked, smirking at him as he walked closer to the chair.
Brown eyes narrowed to slits, but he didn't have an answer for the other. If he were to be honest, he probably would let the guy fuck him if it meant Seifer survived. This was exactly why it was total shit to be romantically involved with your partner when you were elite assassins; he'd do just about anything to make sure the scarred man made it out alive.
"How romantic, you would. It's too bad for the both of you really, if Seifer wasn't so emotionally invested in you, he could think things through before he infiltrated the compound. As it is I wouldn't be surprised if he's found his way into the building already. It's been half an hour since you were brought in, I'm sure that's enough time for him to find the weak spot we left for him. Very efficient assassin, one of the best, except for one grave mistake: he fell in love with his partner. A rookie move you both made. Now, Almasy's always been a romantic, but I was surprised when you fell for the guy after you two acted like you hated each other for so long. I figured if you were going to date an operative it would be me, since I've been chasing after you for three fucking years, but no, you dump me as your partner and start sucking his cock instead."
"I can truthfully say I never felt a thing for you beyond a strained friendship. I was going to ask for a transfer of partners anyway, it's impossible to work with a guy constantly trying to get in your pants. I'm rather surprised you didn't kidnap me and try to rape me earlier in our working relationship."
"You know what I love about you? You're hot as hell when you're furious," Eric commented as he cleared the distance between them and sat down nonchalantly in Hayner's lap.
"Eric, get off me," he ground out, blond brows furrowing tensely as his temper rose.
"Oh, but why would I do something like that?"
He used the knife to cut Hayner's black turtleneck open, from collar to hem. He pushed the useless material to each side of his victim's torso and the brown-eyed blond knew exactly what he was going to do. The irony was that he was the best of them as far as criminal psychological analysis; he could read people like a fucking book, but he didn't even see Eric's betrayal coming.
"I remember, you didn't have any scars before you let that bastard into your life. You were the only one of us untouched by our job or the lives we led before it. Then suddenly you got shot up on that mission in the south and were in an ICU for three weeks," here he traced the scars from the bullet wounds in his chest and stomach, "And were fucking covered in them. You don't see it, but he ruined you."
"I got shot because I made a mistake. If it wasn't for Seifer I would have been killed, he had to drag my ass out of there."
He had to at least make an attempt to clear things up with the traitor, not that it really mattered. Hayner had seen this particular brand of crazy quite a few times, though never while tied to a chair and at the mercy of it. The blade sank into the skin over his heart shallowly, just enough to draw blood. The sting was something he'd gotten used to, cuts and scrapes here and there from falls or broken glass, and as such he didn't even blink. If he was lucky it might not scar too badly, whatever the man on top of him was going to carve into his body. In a few years they'd be faded, in less than a month if he opted for surgery to correct them.
"You're not much of an artist, Eric, better stick to something simple."
"That's something else I admire about you, even in the face of a hopeless situation, you manage a devil-may-care attitude and just shrug everything off. Sometimes I was pretty sure if you were shot through the heart you'd joke about flesh wounds until you choked on your own blood. Maybe one day I'll get to test out the theory."
The knife bites deeper now and he can feel the trails of blood slowly meandering their way down his torso to soak into his pants. The stainless steel cuts into his ribs, curves and straight lines that keep him breathing shallowly, just short, pained pants. The sound of metal scraping against bone was beginning to make him physically ill coupled with the searing pain of being flayed. Squeezing his eyes shut against the hurt and the hot pricking he felt at the back of them, he was almost surprised at the backhand that came promptly after. Almost.
"I know all of our interrogation survival techniques, Hayner. Do you really think I'd let you slip away from this? If you take your eyes off me, I'm just going to make it hurt worse. Make this easy on yourself and don't be a goddamn hero."
"Isn't that my job, Eric? Being a big damn hero? That's what they call us on the news, unnamed heroes, haven't you heard?" Smart-assed humor is about the only thing he has to fall back on now.
The weapon is immediately buried into a portion of his thigh that the older man isn't sitting on, scream tearing itself from his lungs like a demon escaping hell. His chest heaves as he tries to get his breathing under control, a single tear that he couldn't stop trailing hot down his face.
"You only act this way when you're helpless. You hate that more than anything else, don't you, Hayner? The feeling of complete and utter helplessness. I love the way you get so angry you could explode when someone has you trapped, but you can't do a damn thing about it because you know it'll just get you killed. Like earlier, when I had that knife to your throat, I could feel how angry you were and it got me hard just thinking about how I have complete fucking power over you. I can and will do everything I want to you and there is nothing you can do to stop me."
He twists the knife cruelly, drawing another cry from his captive. Hayner sobbed, more salty tears twining their way to the other assassin's pant leg as he curled forward in an instinctual move to try and protect the wounded area. Eric wound his fingers into the blond's hair and held his head against the larger man's chest, other hand patting what he could reach of the lithe man's back, muttering soothing words. It's horrifically, disturbingly ironic, the torturer comforting their victim as they cried uncontrollably from the agony being inflicted, but he can't even bring himself to laugh about it because he can't get his lungs to work properly past the pain poisoning his body.
"So beautiful," the green-eyed man whispers reverently, yanking the weapon out of Hayner's thigh.
He choked for a few seconds and was already starting to feel dizzy from the sudden drop in blood pressure. The need for his partner to rescue him was starting to coalesce in his stomach, a slow, burning want so violent and demanding it was an utter necessity. If Seifer didn't rescue him, the best he could expect would be months of similar torture before the agents managed to track them down. Even then, they wouldn't be there to save Hayner, they'd be there to kill Eric. The thought that his lover could die trying to save him tightened the blood vessels around his heart into an ache almost worse than the physical wounds being inflicted.
"I'm actually quite skilled at wood carving, to respond to your earlier artist comment. You'd be surprised what agents did before they fell into the life of an assassin. Why do you think I was one of the best interrogators? You need a certain precision to torture people properly, as I'm guessing you're beginning to understand."
The knife, slick with blood, was wiped off on what remained of his shirt before the 'artist' got back to his work, pushing his victim back into a fully upright position. Hayner wondered what the other man would do once he lost too much blood and went into shock; it was possible they had medical facilities somewhere in the compound, but he didn't know if Eric would be able to stop cutting him up in time to keep him alive. If not it would be a relief, if he was going to die anyway might as well save him a few months of brutalization. The feeling of sharp pain in his chest halted for a moment as the knife was pulled away again, green eyes seeming to survey their work.
"There's nothing that turns me on more than seeing you covered in your own blood."
A hand grasped his hair harshly, pulling back as lips crashed down on his. Warm steel found its way against his jugular, tracing a cut the length of it in the most sinister way possible. He relaxed into the contact out of the knowledge that if he did anything right now the other would expect it. Hayner felt cold, the sheer lack of proper recourse afforded him settling poorly with his personality. Reading the brunet's body language, he waited until it seemed like he was calming down, knife traveling away from his throat, and bit down as hard as he could on the foreign muscle in his mouth.
"Fuck! You little cunt," he swore as he jerked away, blood on his lips.
He turned his head and spat, the action symbolic more than helpful in getting the taste of his ex-partner out of his mouth. It was a terrible move on his part, he knew that before he did it, but sometimes it was better to do the worst thing possible than just sit back and take it. That sort of mentality was going to get him killed, quite possibly sooner rather than later. The blade flashed before it was thrust into his right shoulder, cutting muscles and tendons indiscriminately in its travel. The groan that escaped him was irritating, but not as satisfying to Eric as him screaming, so he took the small victory for what it was. He was left handed, at least, but it would still take two or more surgeries and several months of physical therapy before he was able to use his arm properly again. The throbbing pulsed through his whole body at this point and the edges of his vision were turning red.
"No you don't, stay with me, Hayner," Eric chided as he slapped his captive again.
"Do you always kill the people you're torturing? If your goal was to keep me alive, you're working against yourself right now," the brown-eyed man said haltingly, breath coming out in short huffs.
"There's a medical wing right next to us, you'll live whether you like it or not. Let's just enjoy the time we have before you pass out, shall we? Don't worry, I'm almost done, for now."
Withdrawing the knife with the speed and carelessness one would rip off a bandaid, he set back to finishing the design he was making in Hayner's chest. His breathing was getting shallower and he knew he only had between five and ten minutes of consciousness left, maybe twenty before he bled to death. He'd held out this long against pain that any normal human being would have blacked out from quite a while ago, but no amount of training could get him to stop bleeding out.
Suddenly he could hear gunshots outside of the cement room they were in as well as people shouting. The frown on Eric's face was all he needed to know that his boyfriend had made it past whatever trap they'd left for him. The door was wrenched open and he could hear a gun fire, the green-eyed brunet's face shifting to one of pain before he clutched at his shoulder, Seifer coming up behind him and throwing him to the opposite wall. Ice-colored eyes hard, he was splattered with blood, including a particularly telling patch of it on the left half of his face. Likely he'd slit someone's throat, kills like that were always horribly messy. Without a glance he shot Eric in both legs to prevent his escape.
"Took your time, huh Seif?" He joked weakly, so quiet he was certain only his partner could have heard it.
"Sorry, had to radio in a helo to get us out of here. You gonna be okay till we touch down at the hospital?"
"No, my shoulder and leg are bleeding badly. You'll have to make some sort of tourniquet. I'm going to be honest, I'm about to pass out and will be of no help in under ten."
"I don't need you to help, just stay alive, alright?" He answered calmly as he cut the ropes that held his boyfriend to the chair, lifting Hayner into his arms.
He knew on a basic level that Seifer dressed his wounds as best he could and carried him and dragged Eric by the shirt collar out to the helicopter that was waiting for them, but beyond that the details were lost in the haze. Despite his best efforts to remain conscious, the world faded out seconds after they got into the air vehicle.
Cradling his boyfriend against his chest, he took stock of the damage done; the wound in his leg was the worst in terms of bleeding, but the one in his arm would probably take the longest to heal completely. Peeling back the remnants of the younger man's shirt, he could see a design carved into his chest and felt suddenly cold. He knew what it meant, the cross now cut into Hayner's skin was a fairly accurate colorless replica of the tattoo on Seifer's back. Eric had once joked sinisterly that the red symbol was painted over his heart like a target. The traitor was trying to imply that the lithe assassin's relationship with his partner was as good as painting a target on his chest.
It was really for the best for all parties concerned that Eric was on the other side of the passenger compartment and being detained by Rude, Reno operating the helicopter, because if he had the option he'd find the slowest way to separate a human from their four major limbs while keeping them alive. Maybe if he was lucky they'd let the two of them kill Eric once they were done interrogating him. Even if they didn't, he was going to anyway, rules be damned.
The ride was tense, each passing moment he listened to make sure his lover was still breathing, and even when they landed at the hospital he knew they weren't in the clear yet. Watching the emergency room personnel take the two dying men away was difficult, but he knew lurking over the surgeons wasn't going to make them do their job any better. Even if he did point a gun at their head.
He occupied the time until Hayner got out of surgery by explaining everything he knew to his boss over their comm lines. Rude brought him a towel and a bottle of water, a quirk of his eyebrow all he needed to express what he meant. Wiping the blood off his face and using the water to clean a few of his wounds, he offered his thanks and dismissed the other assassin. He really just wanted to be alone. His boyfriend had been tortured by his ex-partner and he knew just from the way Eric had been sitting on him that the brunet was probably planning on keeping Hayner alive. The brown-eyed blond had mentioned once that Eric seemed vaguely sexually obsessed with him before they stopped working together and he really didn't want to think about what would have happened if Seifer never rescued him.
Waking up in a hospital was never his idea of a good morning, but he had to admit, this time it was far preferable to the alternative. If he had to wake up in the cell again he'd rather not wake up at all. Seifer was at his bedside, pale eyes watching him evenly. He forced a smile at his boyfriend and got one back, the larger man standing and leaning over him to kiss him. Using his uninjured arm, he held his boyfriend down and deepened the kiss as much as he was able.
"I was worried you'd been killed trying to rescue me."
Seifer just smirked, "It'll take a lot more than an entire building full of armed hostiles to keep me from you. Love you, Hay."
"Love you too, Seif."
Four weeks later he was released, and maybe it was wrong, but he enjoyed putting a bullet in the chest of his ex-partner and watching him drown in his own blood. He didn't even make a joke about it, which seemed like a tragic waste of a perfect ironic comedic opportunity. The scar didn't bother him that much and he opted to let it fade on its own if it ever would. Secretly, he sort of hoped it never went away, because even if his relationship with his partner did leave him vulnerable, their love also kept them both human.