Chapter 5 - 'Home' And 'Sweet' Are Relative
Mosquito glared up into the rearview mirror at the young ruffian sprawled so indecorously beside Lady Arachne, allowing himself a sharp exhale of displeasure before starting the engine of the now-topless vehicle. A tepid wind flowed sluggishly through the twilit forest, creating a shimmer of motion through the leaves but doing nothing to alleviate the overwhelming stillness that had fallen after the weapon's noisy little display. Tch. Some people simply had no understanding of proper luxury and class.
Shifting the car into drive - one of the few good things about the modern age was the convenience of an automatic gearshift - Mosquito accelerated smoothly down the flat, red road. He glanced periodically at the rearview mirror, although not to check for approaching traffic. This was Lady Arachne's realm, after all, not some common expressway. No, Mosquito checked the mirror to ensure that Giriko was exactly as obnoxious as ever. If he even was Giriko any more, that is. No human was built to live thirty lives in one, much less an unstable prototype such as the Nakatsukasa brat - he'd probably grown quite insane in her ladyship's absence.
So much for the great triumph of magic over the natural order, whispered a traitorous voice in the back of his head. If it hadn't been for those glorified lab-rats, Lady Arachne would never have been driven into hiding.
Mosquito shushed the voice. The eight hundred-year exile hadn't technically been the fault of her first human subjects, he reminded himself - witches, as solitary as they can be, do tend to notice when they're hunted for their souls. The Reaper certainly hadn't helped matters, either, storming through the castle like he owned the place. Hmph. It had taken Mosquito weeks to put everything to rights after he'd left. But no matter. Lady Arachne would soon see for herself how faithfully he'd kept it. If he was lucky, she might even… hmm, no. Best not to think thoughts so distracting as those, not while operating a vehicle.
He drove sedately through the trees, following the red-paved road until the great bulk of Lady Arachne's castle loomed out of the haze. It was even more impressive than it had been during her reign, if he did say so himself - eight hundred years was ample time for a little renovation, and the hundreds of masked Arachnophobia lackeys thronging by the gate added a wonderful little flair to the castle's overall aesthetic. He parked the vehicle and made his way to Lady Arachne's door, opening it with a bow.
"Welcome home, madame," he said, glancing up at her as she exited the car. The lackeys cheered, raising their black-clad arms in celebration at the return of their leader, and the corner of her lips curled up in a slight smile.
"You've done well, Mosquito," she purred, opening her fan with a soft snick. She fanned it gently, stirring the still air around her face as her minions continued to shout greetings. "You can drain one of them later, if you wish. You must be hungry."
"Thank you, milady," he replied, satisfaction welling up inside him at her words as she walked towards the castle gates. The spider-masked masses parted before her as she swept imperiously closer to her old seat of power. Mosquito hummed out an exhale, pleased that everything was as it should be. The sensation vanished abruptly as Giriko emerged from the backseat. He muscled past Mosquito, standing with his arms crossed behind his head as he leered at the sight before them. He glanced back as Mosquito attended to the vehicle he'd brutalized, tongue slipping through sharp, bared teeth.
"Bet it'd be easy for you to take your fill from any of those sheep," he snickered, "what with you being such a fuckin' suck-up and all."
Mosquito froze, mustache bristling with indignation. The nerve of that little upstart, to insult him so uncouthly - him, Arachne's most loyal servant! He took a breath, closed the car door, and slowly turned around to face him.
"If it weren't for Lady Arachne, I would have drained you years ago, Subject HS-N07," he said icily, watching the man grow pale around his ridiculous metal piercings. The feeling of satisfaction came back with a vengeance, and Mosquito grinned, revealing teeth every bit as sharp as those of the whelp in front of him.
"Oh, yes, I know who you are. I was the one who gave you humans food and water all those years ago, I was the one who prepared the souls that made you what you are, and when your brother became a casualty of scientific advancement? I was the one who scrubbed his splattered remains off the floor of the lab. I've been Arachne's loyal servant longer than you've been alive, and it was me she trusted to orchestrate all matters of importance in her absence. You are barely more than a sentry. You are beneath me," he finished, glaring up at the glorified lab rat who dared to challenge him with such petty insults. Giriko's face was frozen with an unidentifiable mix of emotions by the end of his speech, and Mosquito nodded to himself, turning to wade through the dispersing masses of lackeys and rejoin Lady Arachne in the castle. He'd barely made it three steps before a peal of laughter rang out behind him.
He turned around to see Giriko laughing riotously, bent over with one hand braced on his thigh and the other clutching his abdomen. Mosquito frowned, unsure what could have possibly elicited this reaction. Hadn't he been in shock not thirty seconds ago? Hadn't Mosquito properly shown him his place?
"What, may I ask, is so utterly hilarious?" he asked crossly, standing in front of the cackling weapon with his arms folded neatly across his chest.
"It's you, you wrinkly old fart!" Giriko exclaimed, straightening up and flinging his arms wide above his head. "You think I give a rat's ass about any of that? HELL no. The fuck do I care about shit that happened eight hundred years ago?"
He started pacing, four steps by four steps, pivoting neatly on his heel like a soldier, the manic grin plastered across his face tugging at the silver brace across his nose.
"So what if my brother got juiced? It just means he was too weak to handle it. I'm stronger than any of them ever were now. Arachne made me better. I coulda slaughtered Death's little kiddies back there without breaking a sweat if I hadn't been so fucking rusty. What about you? You suck up any fighting blood in the last thousand years, or are you just some dick-faced tightass with a glorified desk job?"
The last half of his sentence came out in a patronizing sing-song as Giriko stopped in front of Mosquito, leaning down and stopping just short of brushing noses with the vampire. His tongue lolled out past his sharpened teeth, and a wave of sour breath washed over Mosquito's face. Mosquito's mustache bristled a little harder.
"Why, you-! I'll teach you to respect your betters, you little punk!" he barked, drawing on his magical reserves to pull forth his body from 100 years ago. No chainsaw edge could damage that, weapon or not. Giriko stepped back, beckoning with one hand.
"Let's see what you're made of, you obsolete piece of shit!" he called, jags of light flashing around his arms and legs in a partial transformation.
"Better material than you, I'm sure!" Mosquito called back, eyeing up the space around him. There should be enough room to transform - the car was a lost cause anyway. He pulled on his former form, ready to unleash its full strength on the little upstart in front of him -
"Giriko, didn't you hear me in Loew? I don't like boys who shout," came Arachne's icy voice from behind them. Mosquito withered guiltily, ashamed of losing his decorum in front of his lady. He removed his hat in remorse, head bowed.
"I'm sorry for my conduct, Milady, it shan't happen again," he murmured.
Arachne ignored him, pointing her closed fan at the two of them in turn. "Come with me. I have much to discuss with the both of you."
"Yes, Milady," said Mosquito and Giriko in unison, before glaring daggers at each other after Arachne turned to walk back to the castle.
"This isn't over," Mosquito hissed as they followed his mistress up the blood-red flagstones.
"Damn straight," Giriko muttered back, clearly not put out at all by Arachne's intervention.
Mosquito forced himself to let it be for now, walking in silence towards the castle. It could always be settled later, in a more decorous matter. And besides - the brash hooligan walking by his side was only human, with a soul that wore his borrowed body down a little more every day. He wouldn't last more than another few decades, if he didn't get himself killed in combat first. Mosquito was patient. He could wait. And if that new-old hooligan died a little earlier than he might have, well. All the better for him.
Giriko, several paces ahead, was oblivious to the death glare boring into his skull from behind. He paused just inside the castle gate, eyeing up the main building ahead. It hadn't changed much from what he remembered as a kid, not that that said anything - any memories from that far back were hazier than the humid-ass forest he was standing in. Still, he felt a tug of recognition as his eyes roved up and down the edifice.
"Lab cage, sweet lab cage, am I right?" he muttered to himself, wondering idly whether those had stayed the same as well. Then, shrugging, he jogged across the open courtyard towards the front entrance. Arachne was expecting him, and he didn't want to keep her waiting.
And there it is. Happy Reverb, everyone! I hope you enjoyed it. Be sure to check out the art that this fic accompanied, as well as rebornfromash's fic on the same art - you can find them both on the Grigoriwings Reverb masterlist ( grigoriwings : yuku : com fem topic fem 658 fem 2015-Fic-and-Art-Masterpost - replace the :s with .s and the fems with slashes). There's been a ton of amazing fic, art, and other things to come out of this event, and you can find everything that's posted so far (or everything that's posted, period, if you're reading this when it's over) at that link. Happy reading!