Chapter 67
"Come to get your bitch, Wyatt? Or what's left of her?" Victoria taunted, knowing it would look pretty suspicious if they didn't abuse Abigail, even if it was only verbally, in front of this cocksucker.
Abigail kept her head lowered, knowing exactly why Victoria spoke about her the way she did. Only lifting her eyes when Bray was close enough, her eyes locked with his, or rather one of her eyes. The other was swollen shut currently.
"B-Bray…" Her weak voice called out, gasping when Mark grabbed her bruised cheeks in his huge hand, taunting Wyatt the same way Victoria had.
Good, she wanted Bray pissed off.
"Don't touch her!" Bray growled, holding his hands up in surrender, and hoped to hell Luke had those snipers ready, or else he would feed the man his own tongue, once they got out of this. "You've done enough damage!"
"Oh no, BOY, no I haven't, not yet." Taker taunted, his voice the low, dark baritone that usually made panties drop. Unless he was angry, then it tended to make most people piss themselves in fear. "I've even held off on defiling her, your pure Queen."
Bray's nostrils flared, eyes moving from Abigail to the Undertaker. "You will pay for your sins against her."
"Come to me, little Bray Wyatt, I'm about to take you to church." That was a direct dig at the man's Catholic abusive, Catholic upbringing.
"Almost…." Luke was amongst the snipers, hidden out of sight, watching through his scope. "As soon as our King is out of the line of fire, I want the Undertaker dead."
No, the only one who would pay for his sins against this world was Bray Wyatt. If only Bray knew just how much Mark had 'violated' her and how much she enjoyed every second of it. Abigail had to fight the urge not to start smiling, keeping her face carefully neutral and full of pain.
"Shoulda thought 'bout that before you sent her into our camp, son." Steve held a gun currently, not a fan of swords and daggers, his eyes nothing more than ice. "You're damn lucky she's not dead already. Our leader is lenient and she's only suffered a FRACTION of what she deserves."
"Abbie, look at me. It's going to be alright, okay, my love? I'm going to get you out of here and take you back to the castle. We'll be together, like we always wanted, and I will bathe you in all their blood for what they've done to you." Bray's eyes practically glowed at the thought, clenching his fists tightly at his sides, and gritted his teeth when the Undertaker touched his Queen again. This time pressing a hand against her abdomen and sliding it up in a lewd fashion. "GET YOUR HANDS OFF HER!"
"Hand, boy, this is a hand." 'Taker taunted, holding up his free hand and wiggling the fingers. A second later he had added that hand to the second and ran them both downwards, drawing that fabric tight against her as his palms caressed her thighs. "Bathe her in blood, hmm? Not a bad idea."
Steve watched as Taker's hands both came away from Abigail and clenched into fists. His blue eyes widened when Wyatt froze in place. "Now, get him now!" He roared, stooping to grab a container of blood.
He let the black velvet robe he was wearing slide off his massive body, gesturing at Malcolm. "Now." He ordered, walking towards Bray.
Luke wasn't sure what was happening, but… Bray was drenched, from head to toe and everywhere in-between, in blood. "Shoot!"
The moment Bray was drenched in blood, his eyes snapped over to the man who had colored hair and felt them widen as Malcolm revealed himself. "No – NO!" He roared, trying to move and he couldn't while
Malcolm and the Undertaker chanted in tongues.
The bullets flying toward them from the snipers were reflected by a magical barrier this spell created. Steve and everyone were ordered to duck and cover, including getting Abigail off the symbol. Bray saw the bald man untie Abigail from the monstrosity and pull her to safety, trying to wrap his mind around what was happening. As the chanting grew louder, the blood began forming into chains all around Bray's body, wrapping him up.
"NO! You can't!" He bellowed again, feeling as though it was paralyzed.
The blood chains around him suddenly shattered, the ground beneath him turning black and a wave of energy flew all around them in all directions. Abigail watched in awe as Mark and Malcolm's eyes turned and glowed an acid green, their hands outstretched, and each had a smear of their own blood on their chests, both bare from the waist up. Bray was screaming in agony as the spell was broken, dropping to his knees in a heap and breathing heavily.
"A-Abigail…?" Bray stammered out in question, watching her walk toward him, and suddenly, the bruises and cuts were gone with a wave of Malcolm's hand. "W-What are you…?"
"So much pain, Bray. So much pain and agony you caused all these people, and the ones you hold captive at this moment. All those magical babies you made, all those women you murdered because they couldn't do what you wanted." In her hand was the Mythril dagger, the same one she had brought with her on her journey to the castle with Dean. "You nearly destroyed Vesperia. Your way of thinking, your way of life, can no longer exist. I had to find another way. I had to stop you and I know you're not redeemable. I know your mind and your judgment is warped…clouded, because of what happened to you in that foster home. The Dominion dies today." At his wide, tear-filled eyes, Abigail touched his face and then stabbed him as hard as she could with the dagger, right through his black heart. "This is the only way to stop you. I-I'm sorry, Bray…you can rest now."
"A-Ab-i-gail…" Bray gasped out before slumping against her as she pulled the dagger out of him, his prone body dropping to the grass.
Luke had watched all of this unfold, not believing their bullets were deflected and growled ferociously. "ATTACK!" He would avenge his King and the Dominion would live on because of him!
This time when the bullets came flying, the barrier was down. Magic drained people, and this dark magic had drained him and Malcolm both. Taker watched as Malcolm hit the ground, wondering why he was still eye-level with the man, and realized he was also on the ground.
This had been discussed, Taker and Malcolm being drained. "Press on, take those sumbitches down! Victoria! Nora!"
"We're on it, Steve!" Victoria shouted, leading her and Nora's squads out, all of them on the hunt for the snipers.
When those first bullets had come flying, they had been watching. There was a nest of those bastards. Taker could hear the fighting going on, hear Steve barking out commands, but he just couldn't make himself move. Though… he could feel Glen's healing thing starting to kick in. He just hoped it kicked in before he got shot.
Adrenaline kicked in for Abigail as she made her way over to Mark, the bullets continuing to fly, and didn't care. She wouldn't let him die or leave him to fend for himself with as drained as he was. Malcolm didn't look too good either, but at least he was still breathing.
"Mark, come on, we have to move…"
She would need his help, unable to move his big 300-pound frame by herself. Behind her, she could hear the war ensue, voices shrieking and yelling mixing together as more blood was shed. Bray was dead, but Mark had been right in his assumptions of the man having loyal followers. Mark tried pushing her away, but Abigail was stubborn and steadfast, fresh tears streaming down her face.
"Please move, you have to move!"
"Can't." Taker was trying, sort of. He focused and smiled, feeling that barrier still around her stomach. That was probably what was delaying the healing thing, he was still using a little bit of magic. "Get out of here, Abigail. Get out of the line of fire." Or else he'd never drop that barrier and he'd never get off this ground.
"Time to go, Abigail, sorry." Matt had been taken aside this morning, apparently, Taker had figured she wouldn't be keen on leaving him. She had blood all over her. "Come on, he's not going to stop protecting you and the baby if you don't get out of here." He said, dragging her away. "And he needs that little magic back to heal up."
"No – NO, get off me! Mark! MARK!" Abigail shrieked, shaking her head repeatedly as Matt lifted her gently but firmly over his shoulder, kicking her feet trying to wiggle away from him. "NO! He can't move! I can't leave him!"
"No can do, Abbie, I'm sorry."
Matt refused to disobey their leader's orders, hauling his cookies away from the encampment. They had a second one set up several miles from here, away from the warzone, he hoped anyway. When she continued to struggle, Matt sighed and did the one thing he really didn't want to do, but knew it was needed. He set her down on her feet, accepted a slap to the face, and then pinched the nerve in her neck, watching her drop right in his arms again.
"Again, sorry. Taker's orders." He kept hauling ass, not stopping for anything or anybody.
When he received word that Abigail was safe, Taker let that barrier drop, not that he had had much choice. He was already so weak, maintaining it had been taking energy out of him he hadn't even known he had left to be taken. He felt when Glen's Intent kick in and closed his eyes, letting all disguises and illusions fade away, listening to the battle. When he felt energy starting to return to him, he bared his teeth in a vicious grin. He had a walking corpse to go fetch and return to Abigail. Maybe she would be less mad at him if he returned with a gift. He did have to wonder if alive was really a requirement.
Steve looked up when he heard that Harley ROARING, his eyes sparking at the sight of Taker up and mobile. "Let's finish this!" Because they had a damn castle to raid.
Blood. Everywhere. This land would never be the same again. With Steve and Taker leading the charge, there wasn't a soul left standing. Malcolm had joined in the fight as well, blasting magic left and right at the soldiers. Several hours of fighting and bloodshed later, with casualties on both sides, the only one left standing was Luke Harper.
"I knew that little slut was against Bray all along! I won't let you get near the castle! You'll have to kill me!" His eyes landed on Malcolm, smirking wickedly, and licked his lips lewdly. "How is dear little Susie doing, by the way? I knew about that little whore escaping too, but we didn't know it was you who did it, Malcolm. So you've switched sides, have you?"
"I was NEVER on Bray's side and you know it, Harper!" Malcolm growled, holding his hand up to freeze the man in place, paralyzing him just like he did with Bray during the blood sacrifice. "And if you EVER utter my granddaughter's name again, I'll make a deal with the devil himself to ensure you burn for eternity." He remembered the deal with Abigail and began cutting off Luke's air supply before his tongue was ripped out of his mouth magically. "Is that what she felt? When you cut her tongue out of her mouth, is that how it felt? I sure hope so." Then, he ripped his dick off magically.
Luke screamed, gargling because he was slowly choking on his own blood.
"Enough Malcolm!" Taker ordered, watching as Malcolm very reluctantly allowed Luke to breathe again, pretty sure the old man had just magically cauterized that missing tongue wound. Ouch, he bet that was painful. "We did promise to give him to Abigail." He really hoped she oversaw the execution and did not do it herself. Having someone's blood on her hands…changed a person. He was hoping to avoid that with her.
"Someone tie this piece of trash up and toss him on the back of a bike. MY dark queen demands retribution." They still had a way to go to get to the castle and were about to take a night and day off. Everyone had earned it. "Let's go."
Abigail already had blood on her hands, Bray's blood, Dean's blood, hell, even Roman's blood, though she didn't care much for the man to begin with. So much blood had stained her hands and it would never come off. She was willing to have Bray's, nobody else would've ended his life except her and she made sure of it. Abigail hadn't told Mark what she planned on doing once she was off the symbol to confront him. She had snuck the Mythril dagger in her bag and had it on her person, beneath the dress, to use it on Bray.
Slowly, her eyes opened sometime the next day as Abigail felt the back of her neck, groaning softly, trying to remember what happened. Then, it all came flooding back to her as tears swelled in her eyes, turning her head to look at the empty spot beside her. "Mark…" He wasn't here with her. Was he dead?
"I'm telling you, I don't know how we're going to manage all them women like Susan…"
"She's not a bad kid, she's just…"
"They don't get older mentally, not really. Well, if they do, it's at a very slow rate." Matt said quietly. "There's not much we can do besides educate them, give them… easy jobs, like Susan. It's not a hereditary condition, so after this new generation goes, that'll be it."
"I'm a bit more concerned about the male's mentality than the women's. Undoubtedly, there will be some of them who are… accustomed, shall we say, to be able to just pick a woman and-"
"Fuck her like a dog."
"Abigail is awake."
"I hate to say this…" Steve really did not want to be the bad guy here, but they also had an entire town and thousands of people relying on them. "Taker, maybe it would be best to…end it all at once."
"What are you saying?" Malcolm folded his arms in front of his chest, feeling nauseous suddenly.
"Just burn the whole fuckin' place to the ground…with them inside. They're mostly all magical beings, so they're not actually human…"
Malcolm was appalled by that suggestion, his eyes wide, and wondered if his son would actually consider doing this. Just because they were beings made out of magic did NOT mean they weren't human and didn't deserve a chance to live!
"I hate to agree with Steve, but…I think this time, we need to put ourselves and Wonderful first instead of…liberating these people."
Malcolm couldn't listen to this any longer and walked out, wondering why they hadn't just ended his granddaughter if they were so hell-bent on being against magic.
