Trigger Warning:

- sexual assault

- torture

- blood

- gore

Oh heavens and hells, it is going to happen again.

His legs immobilize men, and his hands press mine to my sides, deeper into the mattress.

I am about to be raped again.

No matter how many times it happens to me, I can never get used to it.

I used to tell myself to think of something else when I was violated. Think of something pleasant, dissociate yourself from your present as much as possible. Lately, I reminisced over the memories shared with Shouto-kun. Memories, real and irreplaceable, all of them. The happy ones, the bitter ones, the terrified and the poignant. But right now, it is impossible to do that. Each sensation is made acute with my panic, chaining me to this horrible reality. Madam Ahearn's voice rings in my ears, urging me to resist. Do something to fight back. I struggle in his grip, which only delights the sick menace.

"Oh, little angel. Don't you know how much that arouses me?" he chuckles against my jaw.

Oh, I will show you arousal when I tear your neck with my teeth! Then I realize something. Angel … he has called me that twice now. That is the same endearment Madam Ahearn used in her letter that I had shown to Thalia. I stare at the man on top of me with a new perspective: he thinks that I am his daughter. Given his sluggish movements and drawl to his words, he is still heavily intoxicated. Otherwise, how would my white tresses match caramel hair? I found his weakness … Once you know someone's weakness, they're easy to manipulate. That invigorates me with a newfound strength and desire for vengeance.

I will not let you ruin me; I will ruin you. Beauty is a weapon. A lesson I have paid a heavy price to pay. Until now, men like you turned my beauty against me. No more. Now I will wield that enchanting sword to your neck. The victim will become the seductress. Instead of being afraid, I could become something to fear.

I push at his body until it rolls over. Until we reach the position we were in before, with me on top of him. "I apologize sincerely, Madam. But this is the only way I can escape and complete my end of the deal. Forgive me," I whisper before removing the earpiece and tossing it aside. Remembering all those little things that men did to supposedly pleasure me, I return them to him. A gentle blow to his ear. A brush of a kiss against his lips. A finger trailed down his neck. A press of my breasts against his chest. A hand slipped beneath the waistband of his jeans, teasing him. I hate and love that I am wearing gloves right now. His arms wrap around my waist, pulling me flush against him. The action intensifies the physical contact I initiate, inciting a deep, guttural groan from him. "Angel, you will kill me." Oh, I will inflict something much worse than death, worry not. His legs spread to bracket my thighs in place. A foot roams up my ankle, beneath the trouser fabric, lining my legs. He lets go of one arm, only to slip it beneath the hideous Disney shirt and grope my chest. I stifle a shriek when he pulls my sleeves down and bites. Each time he brings me closer to him, it becomes more and more difficult to gain the upper hand.

Making the situation worse, he tumbles to the side, and once again I am trapped to his bed. From the bestial look in his eyes, I know that he wants to end these games and claim me. The menace intends to turn his carnal fantasies into reality, but I won't let him. I climb on my knees and elbows beneath him until I am reclining against the headboard of the bed. I want to end this game, too, but on my terms. I spread my arms across the headboard and give him a smirk so lascivious, it would damn the virtues of the angels of heaven. Arching my back just enough, I trail a foot up his thigh, his length, his hairy chest, his neck. He catches it before it can reach his bearded, mustached face and strokes it, pushing the fabric higher and higher. He pulls me toward him, giving me the momentum I need to push him to his back and end this manipulation.

I rise to my knees and pull out four stiletto daggers from my hair bun. Quickly, I proceed to stab them through both his hands and feet, pinning him bloodily to the mattress, and press a knee against his manhood. He howls, and I slap my hands over his mouth before the neighbors can be alerted. Bending close to his ear, I whisper, "Good evening, Sir Ahearn. Your damnation has come to greet you, and your sins will deem your punishment."

"Who the bloody hell are you, you witch?" he shouts when I remove my hands.

"Tut-tut," I scold with a pout and cover his mouth again. "I am no witch. I am Lucifer Morningstar. But perhaps you know me as The Bone Crusher Killer." I glare at him with murderous intent. He gulps silently, sobriety rushing like a tide, fear washing over him as he realizes the implications. Nothing sobers a drunkard than some blood. "If you value your life, you will obey my every command. Remain silent, only speak when permitted, and open the damn safe. Understand?"

He nods, but when release his mouth, he has the gall to speak again. "What do you want from my safe?" For that interruption, I press my knee harder. He chokes on his pain. I pull out the daggers from his appendages, one by one, and beckon him to get up. Blood drips into puddles on the bed and floor. But when he does, he tosses me back down, one hand wrapped around my throat and the other scrambling for the knives in mine. He smiles cruelly. "I am a high-ranking police officer. Physical combat is my speciality. I can kill you painfully right now and hide your body. No one will know." I jerk a knee into his manhood, not caring about the howl that leaves his mouth this time. His grip loosens, and I shove two daggers into his thighs. He shrieks again when I twist them.

"Resist once more, and this time the knives will be embedded in your arteries," I warn with a hiss. I push him off me, then kick him to rise. Meanwhile, I put the earpiece back in my ear. Surprisingly, there is no voice on the other end. Madam is stunned speechless. This was just the appetizer. I hold a dagger to his spinal cord and another to his kidney. He limps to his closet, feigns a stumble, and turns on me instantly. His mistake, though. I pierce his abdomen and back - intentionally avoiding the major nerves and organs - unbalancing him. For effect, I slam his head into the wall. His eyes roll back into his head from the impact, and his nose gushes a river of blood. "Open the bloody safe," I order. Finally, he unlocks it. He looks back, waiting for further instructions. I usher him to empty it and set everything on the bed. When he finishes, I push him to a chair and restrain him with his own clothes. I even gag his mouth with a handkerchief. Then I scour the contents of the safe. Well, it seems his dream was not an utter waste of time. There are folders detailing the bribes and forgeries he committed to frame his ex-wife. A video camera and some memory cards, which when I insert reveal visual evidence of him insulting and beating his daughters, arguing with his former wife, and his insatiable madness for alcohol and smoke. A photo camera and its respective memory cards show pictures of him lying in bed with stranger women, close-up shots of bruises on the girls' bodies, and all kinds of … bedroom toys … he kept. To my dismay, there is no cash; it was just another part of his vivid dream. Apparently, Madam Ahearn had been collecting evidence against him for her divorce, but he must have found out and forcefully confiscated them. Why he did not get rid of the evidence promptly is his own folly, and one I will exploit. For confirmation, I mutter, "Is this what you need?"

When Madam Ahearn replies yes, I scavenge the closet for something to carry all these items until I spot a sports bag. It will do. I stuff everything into it.

Turning to him, I grin diabolically. "Just one last step remaining in the process, and then are you are free to suffer for the rest of your miserable life." I pull another chair and drag a small table between us, so we are face to face. The red moonlight shines on him and silhouettes me in shadows. His gag is extricated. "We will conduct an interview. Confess to everything. What you did to your former wife and your daughters, why you did them, etcetera. Begin," I command.

He growls, "Like I will tell you anything, witch! I know your kind. Girls like you think they're so tough and all. Bull-" I huff and repeat myself. "Start talking about the matter, or I will sever your toes from your feet. Science says toes are important for balance, and I am all too willing to imbalance you." I twirl a dagger on the table for emphasis. He sneers and struggles in his chair, trying to free the makeshift restraints. That warrants him a loss of his left big toe.

I bend down and press the blade into the joint. There. With one clean cut, the appendage separates and leaves a bloody trail as it rolls across the floor. Madam warns me, but I ignore it. This is the main course. When I get up, he is crying and sobbing. Snot dribbles from his nose. My sadistic, blood-lustful self purrs in delight. "I have claws, Sir, and I am not afraid to use them. I will say this once and only once more. Speak."

This time, when I remove the gag, he does start talking. Nothing gets someone to start talking than some amputation. Between intermittent sobs, he cries his sins. Three times, he begged me to release him. To which I replied, "I like it when men beg, but this isn't the time for it," shortly before amputating another toe. So now it is two big toes, two pinky toes, and ten bones missing from his body. When he whimpers just what I will do with his confession, his middle toes detach. He is intelligent enough to know that this exchange is being recorded, and that is all he needs to know.

"Any other questions?" I say once he has finished. He looks around, wondering just to whom I am talking to. "Not to you, scum, but to your former wife. The one who brought me here." Realization dawns - rather, eclipses - his face as he puts all the pieces together. Madam Ahearn responds no, with a current of vindication. I lean over the table and grasp his chin with my fingers. "Tell anyone who tortured you, and you will find yourself deprived of all appendages and a head. Believe me, I will know if you tattle." With an imitation of a slap to his cheeks, I leave the bedroom to search for the daughters.

They are obedient. The three of them sit in the drawing room, backpacks and belongings in hand. All of them have inherited their mother's hair, but the youngest one has inherited her father's iridescent green eyes. She approaches me, fascination glimmering on her face. "Are you the fairy godmother that Tillie said would save us?" Tillie? Is that the pet name for Thalia? And fairy? I glance at Thalia, trying to figure out what story she spun to bring her sister down here. Thalia winces in embarrassment, a silent gesture to play along. Calliope, I observe, has the opposite reaction. She stares at me with unveiled, blatant suspicion.

I bend down to the little girl's height. Ourania, I recall her name. "I am a faerie. A dark one. But I am no godmother. I made a deal with your mother to bring all of you to her. Do you wish to see her?" She nods vigorously. Smiling gently, I tug her pigtails and whisper, "Then let's go to Mum dearest, shall we?"

Summoning Kurogiri's quirk, I open a portal leading to Madam Ahearn's back yard. One by one, I usher the girls to step through. I step in last, dragging the sports bag and closing the portal behind me. Madam, who has been sitting on a garden swing, leaps when she spots her lights of her life and runs toward them. The girls run to her, too. A collective hug. Mutual tears. Condolences, adorations, and apologies. I watch all of this from a distance. Feeling like an intruder on an emotional scene, I look away and scrutinize the snapdragons in full bloom. Beneath the red light of the lunar eclipse, they look morbidly beautiful. I spot a hose and shower the flowers, even though their soil is already wet.

My arthritic flare is due soon. I should go inside. Once I feel too embarrassed to stay any longer, I sneak around the garden to the back door. But before I can open it, Madam's voice calls out my name. "Selene, come here." Curse my luck! I look over my shoulder at the four ladies, understanding all too well what is about to happen.

No. Absolutely not. I am an introvert, and my reservoir for social interactions has been exhausted for the night. "Tell me when you need to return to the investigation agency," I return before entering the home and shutting the door. My joints tingle, a warning before the agony takes over. I cannot reach the nearest sofa soon enough. Instantly, the pain lashes at me viciously, and I cannot stifle the groan that escapes my lips. The rumbling of my stomach does not help my situation.

Gratefully, Madam does not pester.

Hushes repeat.

Gazing at the red rays of the lunar eclipse, my eyes slowly close.

I destroyed, I regenerated, and I unleashed a new facet of myself, just as prophesied by the blood moon.

All that remains is misfortune.

Misfortune does arrive.

In the form of an irritating, bothersome, and frustrating fever.

I was already somewhat annoyed since my capture. Now I am livid, but I have to reign it in. Because while Madam Ahearn is at the facility, making up for her alibi and sorting out the legal process for child custody, and her daughters are at the police station sorting out their alibis, I am stuck at Madam's home all alone. I understand all the reasons why I must be alone, but really? Having to go down the stairs for food, drinks, and other things is a pain! Why do I have a fever? Because it is a side effect of juvenile arthritis, England weather for the past two nights was preposterously cold, and I did not wear proper clothing for the onslaught. This makes it the third day I have been missing in Japan. The knowledge that I will be reprimanded without a break by Shigaraki, Kurogiri, All-for-One, Hanada-sama, and Shouto-kun does not help to better my mood.

I lay in Madam's bed because her home does not have a guest room and read her copy of The Phantom of the Opera. By the time she returns from her hectic day, I have finished that, Shakespeare's The Tempest, and a few sections of Dante's Inferno. If she did not know about the fever earlier, she does now. I know how I look: swollen, red eyes; shivering and aching body; a withering scowl on my lips.

"Did you take pain and cold medication?" she asks. I reply that I did, in a voice much hoarser than usual. A long moment of silence passes between us. We had mutually agreed that I should leave early afternoon - London time - for both our benefit. I glance out the window. The sun will start to set in a few hours. I get out of the bed and walk into the bathroom to change. My villain costume has been washed and dried. When I come out, Madam Ahearn is still in the room, staring at nothing.

"I should depart now," I say, breaking her out of her reverie.

She nods, and we descend the stairs to the garden. I summon the burner phone and call Shigaraki. "HOW DARE YOU PUSH YOU ME THROUGH THE PORTAL AND STAY BEHIND! WHERE IN HELL WERE YOU AND WHY DIDN'T YOU CALL SOONER!" He screeches so loudly that although the phone was by my ear, even Madam Ahearn flinches.

"I missed you, too, but please, calm down. If my ears bleed because of you, then you will pay my hospital bills," I greet.

"DEAD PEOPLE DON'T NEED TO BE TREATED FOR INJURIES!" he retorts. "BECAUSE YOU SURE AS HELL WILL BECOME ONE OF THEM! YOU LITTLE-"

I cut him off with instructions to tell Kurogiri to open the warp gate. I give him the address, and to give him a little peace of mind, I also tell him that I am not coming empty-handed. That tempers his anger a little, and he grumbles we'll see whether I live or die once I pass through the portal. Immediately, those familiar purple-black coiling swirls appear amongst the plants. I proceed to step through, but Madam grabs my hand from behind. When I turn to look at her, demanding an explanation with my eyes, she is weeping.

My sternness softens. I hesitate for a moment before adjusting her grip so that her palms rest in mine. Between sobs, she croaks, "A trial was hastily held today. The court ruled in my favor and sentenced my ex-husband to many decades in prison. He looked like a maniac, a satisfying sight. My daughters will be with me again, all thanks to you, Selene."

I shake my head. "Don't thank me. We had a deal, remember? My end has been met, but yours is still remaining. We have to see each other for five more weeks."

She denies it. "An expression of gratitude is still in place. One moment." She heads inside the home briefly, only to return with bags of goods. She passes them to me, one by one. "This one contains some money. That one has some expensive clothes and accessories, since you were complaining profusely about the 'clown outfit.' The bag over here has some more medication. And, last night, you said you wanted a feast of sweets. So the rest of the bags have boxes of macaroons, cakes, and other pastries. All of them are nut-free, I checked."

Stunned, I take them from her. A rogue police officer and a criminal with a conscience … really, we are bonding. As much as I loathe it, giving the money to the League is in my favor. On the safe side, I create a few gemstones - thanks to one of my absorbed earth quirks - and drop them into the bag. "Thank you," I say, mustering confidence in my feverish voice. "According to propriety, a return gift is due. So …" I remove the black roses from my black hair. Their edges curl a little from drying, so I vitalize them with freshness. Bundling them in a small bouquet, I untie my white lace choker and bind the flowers together. "Black roses represent death and dirges, murder and politics, but they also signify rebirth. Perhaps I should change their color to peach - to express my gratefulness for not having me put on the death row - but these roses are a rarity."

She smiles warmly and inhales its subtle scent. "I would have it no other way. Goodbye for now, Selene. I will see you soon."

"Farewell, Madam Ahearn."

"I think you can call me Aline now."

Once again, I am surprised into silence. Then I regain my senses. "I am nearly the same age as your eldest daughter, Madam. Does your daughter call you by your first name?"

"No, she calls me Mum. In that case, I don't mind if you call me 'Aunt Aline.'"

I blush profusely. Maybe, I blanch. Either way, the blood in my face must have changed directions because Madam giggles. Giggles! "I-I-I sh-should go. N-next week, we'll meet." Now I dread next week. I turn around and step through the gate. Her laughter never dwindles, much to my embarrassment.

"My greetings to the small syndicate known as the League of Villains!" I announce the instant I am fully in the bar, and the portal disappears behind me. Raising my arms, I continue, "And as promised, I come bearing gifts!"

Not a moment later, I fly through the air to crash onto the sofa. Despite the cushioning, the sensation is jarring. A weight settles on top of me and something grabs the collar of my trench coat, vigorously shaking it, and therefore, me. "YOU BETTER HAVE AN EXCELLENT EXPLANATION OR ELSE YOU'LL DISAPPEAR OFF THE FACE OF THE EARTH! PERMANENTLY, THIS TIME!"

Shigaraki is the one jostling me like a rag toy. Between the forceful impacts the back of my head makes with the sofa cushions, I gasp my story. "The police caught me. It was better that only one of us were caught instead of both, and I had spent more time in England than you, so I shoved you so that you could escape. Then I struck a deal with the officer in charge, and fulfilling it was the reason it took so much time."

The moment when Shigaraki stops manhandling me feels like a blessed reprieve. He makes no move to rise. Instead, he demands that I give a more detailed explanation. "Start from the beginning and leave no detail out," he orders with a vicious glare in his eyes. So I do, but I distort the story so that my true quirk is not revealed. Given that I do not know Madam Ahearn's quirk, it is easy to lie that she released the sleeping gas rather than that I did. When the part comes where I help escort the girls out of their father's home, I lie that Madam was already waiting outside in a van.

That story should suffice, but fear replaces comfort as Shigaraki still does not get up. I nudge him, but no effect. It is only until All-for-One tells him to release me does he shift. At the same time, Kurogiri comes toward me to check my temperature. He searches for some medicine, but I tell him not to. "My intuition tells me that this fever will be integral. What are the rumors circulating about my supposed disappearance?"

Kurogiri says what I expected. "Your adoptive father informed the police. They and the Pro-Heroes are teaming up for a nationwide search mission. The fact that your cane was not at the crime scene raised some questions, but finding you is their priority. All-for-One hypothesizes that their prime suspect is the League. That we kidnapped you to make a statement."

"That is not an irrational hypothesis," I reply. "But, of course, it is not true. And I do not intend to make them think that they were right."

Shigaraki and Kurogiri stare at me incredulously, and from All-for-One's silence, I think he is waiting for me to elaborate. Elaborate I will.

"We will make the police and heroes think that I was indeed missing from an abduction, but not because the League abducted me."

I gaze at my silver dragon head cane.

"Do you still have my nightgown from the night I was captured?"

Shigaraki replies that he does.

"Then Shigaraki dearest, half of your wish will be fulfilled tonight."

Citations:

"Once you know someone's weakness, they're easy to manipulate." - Unhinged by A. G. Howard

"Instead of being afraid, I could become something to fear." - The Cruel Prince by Holly Black