"They call it creeping"
Disclaimer: Villainous isn't mine... yet.
It was half past midnight.
The nearly full moon peaked slightly through the arched window, lines of red light trickling across the floor, a top hat shaped shadow forming from the decorative bars that blocked out the almost light.
The room went black for a fleeting second, as a disfigured mesh skittered past the window silently, blocking out the light with its fluff.
The rafters creaked ever so slightly.
A burst of dark and twisted energy revealed a tall and foreboding figure- a demon in an 'amiable' form, as far as demons see it at least- adjusting his tie in front of a very Victorian-vampire looking oval mirror, a permanent scowl across his face as he watched his reflection struggle with a tie crimson like the blood of orphans, the ones who cursed their fate, and hated violently, their blood tainted by sin, the red contrasting his skin, which had an iridescent quality, but was blacker that the darkest black holes in space, darker than the eclipse, and darker yet than the blackest of souls, from the darkest of places. A black straight from hell itself.
Only a few feet above him, shoeless feet and gloved hands clung to the ceiling, fingers careful not to dig deep enough to leave noticeable marks. Besides that, the creature was nearly completely hidden by bright green hair, wide maniacal eyes peeking out between the hot pink strands of a flashy bang.
The creature shook with a silent girly giggle, of the sort one might have while looking at a cute boy. And despite the fact that the demon wasn't exactly (remotely) cute, and wasn't really hot either, just irritating at times, and terrifying at others, as far as this creature, Dementia, was concerned, he was the dreamiest, cutest, hottest thing that had ever bothered to walk the dirt covered planet of Earth.
The demon's scowl tightened, pointed teeth flashing dangerously at his reflection, and he held the tie between two fingers, twisting it violently, giving it a sharp yank. "Garbage." He hissed through gritted teeth.
Dementia swayed, a hungry look consuming her face completely, she loved when he was even a little angry, it gave an even more dangerous edge to his attractive features.
And then he faded, body shuddering and snapping with noises that would terrify anyone with their mind in order right into insanity headfirst and screaming.
Luckily Dementia didn't have her mind in order in the slightest.
And then he vanished into the darkness, taking it with him.
The puff of green dropped silently from the ceiling, the face of a young wild creature, too immature and chaotic to really be called a woman moving to and fro in sharp little movements, taking in the whole room. Her manic grin was spread from ear to ear, eyes dancing with a deep-seated wild starvation and excitement.
Today was a Flug Friday.
The demon, Black Hat, should be heading to the small apartment down the street to keep an eye on his own little crush, a work alone researcher, coder and hacker of some sort, who lived in the bad end of town, and seemed to always have supplies, although it was unclear from where. He never seemed to leave his apartment, didn't work a job, never sent out mail, and rarely threw things away. He seemed to live entirely on coffee.
Dementia, truly, did not quite understand what Black Hat's obsession with the pathetic guy was.
Well, he was cute, in a way. At least, as cute as a guy could be if he wore a paper bag and a pair of goggles constantly, even when he slept. She couldn't really judge his looks as cute, though the way his body looked like a thin little toothpick that would just snap if you put enough pressure on it was pretty adorable. It wasn't really his looks that were cute, but rather the way he acted, the little things he did.
The way he darted about his house quickly, worn sneakers rubbing against the stained floors, arms wrapped around beakers and hunks of metal, as he brought them back and forth, from room to room, to fiddle with in different places, switching around with the 'when's, the 'where's and the 'how's.
The way he tapped at his keyboard in silence for hours and hours, writing in some strange code, humming to himself, as his fingers danced across the keys, every couple of minutes one of them abandoning the keyboard, to take a sip of the nearly forgotten coffee.
The way that they sometimes could not find him no matter where and how hard they looked, no matter where they checked, he was just nowhere to be found.
The way he'd nearly catch them oh-so-often, coming so close, hand just about to push away the lid of some box, or to try and see it there were a rat in the cabinet, but always, without fail, when disaster was inevitable, getting distracted at the last moment, wandering off to do his own thing, seeming to have completely forgotten about what he was doing.
The way he'd monologue about vengeance and power, a thirst in his eyes, a rage deep inside him, sometimes for hours, pacing between rooms, ranting, and typing occasionally, chanting and almost screaming about how someone would regret what they had done, if they had any thinking capacity once he was through with them.
And then- suddenly, abruptly, without any reason- seemed to realize something, he would duck his head, in a way that Dementia could have sworn was a soft sort of shyness or embarrassment.
Those were a few things that made Flug Slys cute, at least to Dementia.
Black Hat however, found a large amount of sadistic amusement in tormenting the guy, in simple ways like making his life more difficult, or by putting him through pain.
Dementia thought that Black Hat's sadism was a very attractive trait, and enjoyed watching him torment Flug.
Tipping Flug's mug, and splashing his coffee across the ground would earn a worn-out groan and an irritated eyebrow raise at the floor.
Tearing out his notebook pages, leaving them scattered across the floor like giant dirty moths, made him make irritated little mutters and grumbles as he collected them back up with his hands, leaving them in a messy pile on a table.
Once Black Hat picked out a particularly important looking file and tore it down the middle, ripping little pieces off of it, leaving it in a scattered pile on the floor, hoping for a strong reaction.
He got to see Flug's horrified and enraged expression for a fleeting second, before he let out a huff of air, emotion draining from him, leaving him looking tired. He stared at the shreds with such a worn out, depressed and haunted expression, that Black Hat never did it again.
Flug still hadn't cleaned up those particular shreds, letting them just stay in their little place, occasionally stepping on them by accident.
Black Hat particularly enjoying knocking heavy objects onto Flug, and then listening to his surprised and pained noises, and he struggled to get out from under whatever had been knocked over that particular time.
One time, Flug was working with some strange hunk of metal and wires, and him arm got tangled in a few wires, and caught between the different pieces of metal, right as the machine began to overheat. A look of terror flashed in his eyes, as he tried to wriggle his arm out to no avail, the machine getting warmer and warmer. "No, no," He whimpered to himself, yanking on his arm with a touch of desperation, panic setting in. He squirmed in place, tugging desperately, struggling helplessly, panting between his soft little gasps and whimpers of pain as it heated up, burning his arm. Finally, the pain became unbearable and he threw his head back in a desperate wail of agony, pitching into a scream, as he pushed and shoved, kicked and punched, unable to escape the metal clamp that was eating his arm with its heat.
Black Hate hissed in a pleased sort of way, eyes glinting as he watched Flug struggle and wail.
Dementia purred.
Finally, Flug ripped himself loose, leaving his glove and an inch or so of charred skin in the machine, stumbling backward, shaking violently, and crying oh-so pathetically, falling to the ground, curling up and whimpering.
After about half a minute, he came to his senses, leaving the room to go and treat his wound, paying no mind when the machine exploded, blasting into a thousand shiny pieces, shattered metal flying across the ground.
A/N: This is actually pretty old, but I just noticed that the formatting was ruined so I had to fix it. If anyone was wondering where I've been(though I'm sure you haven't), I've given up! I was trying to run about five social medias at once and I am basically rewriting my whole online identity. Again. This social media is still up as a record, or for anyone who appreciated my work. (Ha! As if)
Someone asked me to collab and I didn't notice it for half a year, so I feel pretty terrible about that too. Feel free to reach out to me about collabs or literally anything else, with no guarantee that I'll notice. Feel free to spam for my attention. Peace.