V S M Every Rose has its Thorns

[Masahir N'air]

Previous thread: Back to Normality?​

Damien's pointed nails drew her attention back down to the contract. “Then, my dear sweet pet, sign it. We will punish him for his offenses, and you will feel so much better...”

Masahir swallowed one last time, her jaw jittering as she glanced down at the parchment and grimaced. The sound of the pen tip scratching her signature into the page burned itself into her ears as her fate was sealed.​

11:49pm​

"What a good girl you are Masa~" Damien cooed warmly as he praised the diva, his smirk coy and crawling with callous excitement. His crimson eyes twinkled with an ill-befitting glee as the parchment coiled itself back up into a scroll and vanished in a puff of sulfuric smoke. "Now," he declared matter-of-factly, "give me that dastardly phone you've got smuggled away and come around the back of the bar, pet."

Masahir sheepishly produced the brick-like communications device of Ulip and passed it over to her temporary fount. She did not bother to question how he already knew of the phone, or of the fact that it belonged to her prior captor. Instead she hopped down from her barstool and did as told, coming around to Damien and accepting his extended hand. He pulled her in close to his side with a firm grasp, then leant down to plant a rewarding kiss upon her awaiting lips, and with a snap of his fingers they were suddenly somewhere very different from the hotel bar.

Here the floor was made of polished dark hardwood, and the walls of exquisitely patterned crimson Victorian wallpaper. Here plush blood hued sofas and ottomans lined the edges of the warm space, playing company to the decadent scarlet satin bed set positioned against the middle wall. Masa recognized this place; it was just one of many pocket-sized dimensions the devil slipped away to when he sought privacy. Damien deposited her on one side of the bed then spun around to fiddle with the bulky phone, his nimble fingers quickly pecking through the menus in silence.

Masa laid on the bed, her dark curls spread around her face and her posture as limp and delicate as a silk ribbon blown about the room before having settled atop the satin sheets. Her large, dark eyes stared into the back of his black tresses with a glassy dissociation. He was going to help her, like he always did when she felt overwhelmed and lost.
​

Damien put the phone up to his pointed ear. ​

He was always helpful, despite the awful things he made her resort to as his price... But it was only fair that she give him what he wanted so that he could give her what she needed, after all, nothing was ever really free. The world at large had taught her that.
​

"H-hey boss..." The devil began, his voice an eerily accurate mimic of Ulip's.​

Everything had a price, you just had to be willing to pay it, and... and for the sake of wiping Cecil Carter out, she was more that willing.
​

"Sorry about being late- yah, yeah I knows..."​

But if she was so ready and willing, why did she feel a horrible tension racking across her ribs and pressing down on her chest?
​

"Well, maybe yous can talks with one'a ya contacts in the city guard next time, eh boss?"​

Why did she feel that tightness in her throat, not unlike a hand reaching up from her soul to strangle her in punishment? She was going to kill someone tonight, after Cho had begged her to not do anything rash. She would have to lie to him again. She huffed out loud in frustration.
​

"Yah. Yah I got the gal. I'll's tells ya boss, been a hassle keeping the men off her..."​

Damien was going to help her. She didn't need to worry, he always made sure to take care of her. He was always good to her, in the end. Now was no time to start doubting his methods when he had proven time and time again to her that he wanted nothing more than to 'see her blossom' during her life. Tonight was hardly any different.
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"What's the earliest ya can meet up? We're in the city."​

Damien shifted, turning to gaze at Masa and her theatric penchant for star-struck devastation, and flashed her a smile. He slunk over to the bed and sat beside her, his blazing crimson eyes boring into hers as he studied her expression with an otherworldly intensity. His spaded tail tip flicked in morbid excitement, and he ran a pleasurable hand along the inside of her knee.
​

"Oh, and boss? Maybe don't brings an entire entourage withs ya?"​

Masa held his gaze as her countenance relaxed. It was what he wanted. His touch easily beckoned her out of her head and into the palm of his hand.
​

"Why? Well, I doubts the gal needs much more scarin'! She's as soft as a rose petal by now..."​

He liked her compliance and rewarded her with a firm squeeze on her inner thigh. He chuckled as he played the part of her would-be seller and captor. Part of him found it ironic and amusing, she was positive of that. His energy vibrated with a deviously wicked hum.
​

"Yah... Yah... Mhmm..."​

The bemused devil lifted his hand and traced his nails along the diva's cheekbone and jaw.
​

"Alright. See ya in a few."​

Damien hung up and tossed the beater phone on the empty side of the bed and sat up to lean over Masahir, his hellish gaze never faltering from her own. "Oh come now, my rose. I've already gone and done so much for your sake, and yet you still look so utterly devastated by the state of things," he chided mildly, frowning in a show of subtle dramatics.

"It's just... you know... I just..." She sighed, short for breath as she struggled to not tear up. The way he expressed his disappointment and dejection had her stomach in knots. "I'm sorry..."

"I know it may seem distasteful, but I only ask this single thing of you." Damien asserted, half-mindedly playing with one of her many cherry black ringlets the way one might admire a fine wig. "I make myself available to you at a moment's notice. I always do my best to help you out the ways I can."

"I know." Masa sniffled, her hands reflexively reaching out to hold at his arms and side in the urge to be embraced by him. "You know that I love all that you do for me, Damien. Thank you..."

"I'm not asking much of you, my rose." Damien persisted, pinning one of her wrists under his large hand. "Just that you be the one to take action when the moment comes. You'll be doing the world a favor, too. Think of how many lives you'll help to save. Don't you think that protecting that many people is worth a moment's discomfort? It will be like taking a shot, my darling petal. Shocking for a split second, then over with. You're a big girl, I think you can handle that for me."

Masa grinned, all her prior agonizing gone as she put on a more agreeable energy for him. "What if I feel like misbehaving, papi~?" She pressed impishly and reached her free hand up to trace along the edge of his horn.

"Then your master would have to punish you for being so disrespectful to him, pet." He remarked sternly, catching her free wrist and pinning it down to the bed. "I wonder if you would be able to survive a month without the comforts of my touch..."

Masahir gasped. "No, you wouldn't be so mean to me, would you~?"

"Depends on how poorly you behave yourself, my rose~" Damien pulled back and stood up, easily pulling Masahir along up to her feet. He held to her wrist and elbow, holding her firmly in place amidst his grasp despite her utter lack of fuss or fight-back. "Trust me when I say that dealing with Him will put your precious mind to ease. Now it is time for you to be the savior you've dreamed of being."
​

With a snap of his infernal fingers they once more vanished in a tuft of black smoke.​

 

[Masahir N'air]

12:21am​

"Damien?" Masa called to her profane guardian. He guided her through the emptying nighttime streets of Karim by her arm, quick to pull her towards their destination.

"Yes, petal?" The devil murred languidly. People passing by them dipped their heads to the beautiful couple enjoying the night, the tall pale man and his sun-kissed dame. The angled cut of his fine jawline and her pouty lips drew the attention and admiration of passersby in equal measures. More than once the diva had caught pedestrians and tourists giving them double and triple takes. How flattering, she thought. But would they still gaze at her in awe if they could see all the cracks in her mask?

"Do... Do I seem different to you?" Masahir asked cautiously, her mind instantly flickering back to her experience in the desert. Those fires she had conjured before had settled down into embers deep in her chest, but the memory of that voice that had compelled her was beyond hard to forget. It had spoken to her, and through her, and left her feeling hollowed out and empty in its absence.

"Hmm..." Damien paused for a moment, slowing to appraise the diva with his discerning gaze. His mouth curled into a smirk, as if mimicking the playfully curled ends of his dark moustache. "Well, you're as ravishing as ever, but you probably already knew that~" He teased lightly before locking eyes with her, his wicked grin made all the more apparent. "But there is a certain new fire about you, yes. Why do you ask?"

"Uhm... Well, when I was trapped out in the desert I, uh... Something else spoke to me, in my head." Masa bridged her fingers together and gave a nervous smile. If there was anyone she could trust when it came to not judging her too harshly on morbid matters of mental health, she felt as though she could trust him. At least, trust him to not ridicule her or think of her as less attractive over it. He liked her brand of crazy.

"It spoke to you? What manner of things did it say to you?" Damien inquired, curiosity obvious in his tone.

The diva swallowed, her big brown eyes lingering on his lips as he spoke. "It compelled me to charm them all... And to kill them."

"Oh~?" Damien remarked pleasantly as he wrapped his arm around her waist. The arm of his pressed black suit scratched softly against the red lace of her gown. He had dressed them one step removed from aristocracy, because were they were going, people didn't question the odd tastes of the uber rich.

"And did I mention that I have actual fire powers now?" Masa reached a hand out in front of them and with a moment's effort summoned a flame above her palm. "I... I burnt them all to a crisp, Damien. Like it was nothing at all..."

"Hmm, it sounds like you defended yourself." The devil beside her chuckled, impressed by the information. "What's a few less bandits in the world, after all~?"

"Yeah..." Masahir agreed effortlessly. The pride radiating from him was more than enough to bury her flighty fears. "They were disgusting pigs anyways."

"Yes, vile creatures most befitting a place in the hells. And to think: they threatened to take you from me, my dearest rose." Damien sighed and shook his head in disappointment or disdain, Masa couldn't quite tell. But there was a certain way he purred that silent threat present behind his words that left her trembling with an intoxicated desire. There was a certain safety in his possession that she couldn't deny craving, as ill advised as the people in her life might tell her it was.

But the people in her life? Yeah, they made her happy enough with their company... But Damien? He always made things happen for her, and he made it simple. He set down rules and expectations and rewarded her generously in turn for her compliance. All she had to do was listen to him, and he would make all her problems and aches disappear.

"But hey, what about that new fire you noticed? Tell me more about that, papi." Masahir eyed him eagerly.

"You have always seemed to shine, but now you actually glow. A warmth radiates from you, not unlike fire. It is more than just your passion, but a force exuding from your very soul." Damien leaned in close to her ear, "When I look at you, I see beauty and power in equal measures. The very essence of fire itself, as mesmerizing as the setting sun when it crests over the golden horizons of the disk..."

"Come, my rose..." He trailed a finger up her jaw and drew her into a kiss, and she pressed her lips against his as if she could drink him down. He worked his mouth down her neck, teasing her throat with his fangs. To anyone passing by they were a stunning couple, madly in love. "I'll make you feel so much better, just as soon as we handle our problem~"

He pulled her along once again, a Shepard to the poor little lost lamb...
​

They were like a fairytale.​

"Hey Damien?" Masahir asked softly as they drew close to their destination.

"Yes?" The streets had cleared as they walked through the city, and now in the warehouse district the road was almost entirely devoid of others save for the occasional lone security guard standing at their posts. "We are almost there."

"Am I yours?"

"Of course you belong with me, dear pet." Damien smiled, flashing his flawless white fangs in the toothy grin. How effortlessly charming he looked, despite the quiet voice in the back of her head, begging that she flee from him. "Why do you think I take so much care of you? Why, I would do almost anything for you...."

He held her face in his hands and gazed into her eyes. "I'm practically at your beck and call, my most lovely flower. You must only ask it of me~"

That was always the deal. One of his ground rules. She got a highly efficient and dangerous devil, and he got her unwavering obedience, she only needed to speak her desires into the world and he would exact them. Simple and easy, right?

"I would simply adore to rid the world of the cretins that dared burden you with such pains." The devil took her hand in his own and laid a kiss upon each of her glimmering rings in a display of his devotion. "A precious gem such as yourself deserves to be treated better... Aren't you sick and tired of people doing naught but taking from you? The carrion vultures of the world pick at your most sensitive spots until you're brought to world shattering tears. We will teach them a lesson my love~" He cooed his sweet slithering words in her ear and sent waves of goosebumps prickling across the expanse of her skin.

"And what better way than by showing them to fear and respect their betters~? Now look alive my rose," he whispered as they approached the front door to a large nondescript white warehouse, "and play your part."

As Damien stepped away she felt conjured bindings snare her wrists behind her back.

Masa's face burned hot with the indignance and pride of her shame. She did deserve better. Some days she loved that devil. She was sick and fucking tired of people using her pain and misfortune to laugh or drag themselves up onto a pedestal of purity. Some days she hated his guts. She was over the disgusting men that did nothing but treat her like meat, or the women who used her appearance to dehumanize her. She was going to be treated with the proper respect, even if she had to negotiate that fact in the only languages that those freaks understood: violence and dominance.



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12:35am​

The dull brick red paint of the door stood out starkly against the lifeless white concrete wall, even under the sterile cold light of the front lamp, and was guarded by two armed figures dressed in navy blue three piece suits and trilbies. The inky black gunmetal of their tommy guns was a stripe of night across the steel blue of their armored vests. One of the guards shifted on his feet, raising a hand to motion the couple to stop.

The guard strode up to them, a casual swanker to his gait as he chewed a wad of gum on the side of his mouth. "I think yous two might be a little bit lost, buddy."

Damien smiled, every ounce of his charisma on display as he studied the two men. "Oh, no. I don't think we are, gentlemen."

The swankering guard frowned, narrowing his greyish-hazel eyes at the tall pale man. "And what business does a pretty boy and his broad got over here in the industrial district?"

"Business with a Mister Cecil Carter, if you don't mind, lackey." Damien sighed, as if this fedora wearing man was the most obnoxious burden on his schedule for the night. "He's been rather excited to receive my delivery all day today. I'm certain that he will appreciate the needless delay."

"What delivery?" The first guard pressed.

Damien glanced at the second guard, a baffled and somewhat offended expression worn on his face. "... Does Mister Carter make a habit of employing imbeciles now?" He quipped with a roll of his feline eyes, then pointed at Masahir who stood with her head down beside him. "I have brought him the most decadent desert rose for company, courtesy of Ulip."

"Yeah. We were expecting him, not you."

Damien shook his head, as if it were all so obvious and these simpletons were just missing the point. "Look at this gorgeous creature." He commanded in reference to the diva. "She catches your eye quickly, even here in the dark of night, doesn't she? It was impossible for someone with the... countenance of Ulip to not draw suspicion escorting this precious tart around. After the city guard proper stopped him for questioning at the gate he called on me to assist him. I owed him a favor, you see."

The guard drew close to Masahir and lifted a hand as if to touch her.

"Ah-uh. I wouldn't advise that," Damien cut in with a soft warning, a knowing smirk plastered to his face. "She's known to be rather feisty."

Masa glared at the swankering guard, daring him to attempt touching her.

"Gotta inspect the merchandise." The man dismissed and ran his hand down her side and caressed her hip. The way he fantasized about her submission, willing or not, played out like some sick fuck's snuff film in his mind. Now he trailed his hand up her bodice, over her collarbones and throat to rest under her jaw. Some part of him idly pondered if Cecil would merely keep her all from himself. The guard lifted her head to inspect her features closer. Masa darted forward to bite at the flesh between his thumb and forefinger, but missed when the man flinched back. Spiteful, the diva instead launched her knee up into his crotch and sent him plummeting onto the pavement before he could finish hurling an explicative from his lips.

"Keep your dirty hands off of me, putamadre pendejo." Masahir spat with venom. She lifted her stiletto heeled foot, kicked the guard in the chest and made him lay flat on the asphalt. That familiar fire danced under her skin in a perfect match to the growing inferno burning in her heart.

"Hey, hey, hey! Get control a' that broad now!" The second guard hustled up to them, his gun drawn and at the ready.

Damien pulled Masahir away from the fallen guard by her wrist bindings, but not before she could land another few swift kicks to the creep's groin that left him groaning and rolling on the ground.

"You!" Masa hissed at the second guard, her voice a dart that demanded his attention above all else. He skidded to a stop, instantly regarding her command as the word of god. "Put your gun on the floor, and his too."

"I warned him." Damien remarked with casual disregard, an amused smirk worn on his lips. The second guard eagerly followed Masahir's command, stripping himself and his partner of their guns and putting the weapons aside. He obeyed flawlessly as she ordered him to open the door, swiping his keycard over the access panel. It lit up green and he even held the door for the couple.

"Damien..." Masahir was not nearly as amused as the devil holding her wrists. Her eyes blazed with an eerie light as she glowered down the aisles of the warehouse. "If you are done making a fool out of me, get them out of my sight, and get me to Carter. Now."

"Oh darling..." The devil's smirk grew, splitting his face in twain with the perfectly pleased fang baring grin. A new energy invaded the air now, one large and dark in its' suffocating sinister desires. "I thought you'd never ask."

With a flick of his wrist he summoned several playing cards to his hands and sent them flying at impossible speeds, only to return tinged with crimson. The guard on the ground laid still, now silent in his pain. The man holding the door for them gagged for a moment before collapsing to his knees, a fine high pressured spray of blood blasted out to coat the grey cinderblocks opposite of him. Masahir sucked in a quick gasp at the suddenness, droplets of blood beading up on her arms and chest as she was struck by the spray. It coated her tongue in a warm meaty-metallic taste and forced every bit of composure from her as she struggled to not immediately retch.

Damien merely laughed as she turned to grimace at him. "What's wrong love? You look positively darling in crimson."

"In my mouth? What, did you have to use me like a blood shield?" Masa sneered. She had half a mind to punch his stupid sexy lights out at this rate. "And you've had your fun. Untie me, right now!"

She didn't want to think about the horrible whistling gurgle that wheezed from the door man's new throat window as he began to choke on his own blood. His panic had been hot at first, a burning denial before it all ran cold. Now he slipped further and further into the dark beyond the veil. Once alive and full of vigor, he lay slumped against the unforgiving white cinderblock wall. It was almost... almost a relief when his light fully faded.

"Aww," Damien tutted, the bindings on her wrists falling away like ribbons of smoke, "don't tell me you've grown bored of being my favorite plaything already, love~? You know how the cleaners act about my suits when I bring them in. Really, it's like no one knows how to take care of proper finery these days."

Masa rolled her eyes and tossed her hair with a rather prim scoff, ignoring his words. "At least you dressed me in red."

"A more than fabulous choice on my part, I admit." The devil purred proudly. "Look at you. A portrait of devastation so divine it nearly hurts my infernal eyes to gaze upon your grace. Tell me, my dazzling summer star," he took her by the wrist and gestured deeper into the building before pulling her along, "are you ready to meet the root of your fury~? Are you ready to finally breathe freely again?"

His words floated through her head, but his pace left her with precious little time to actually think through things. She couldn't remember the last time she had felt true peace, unimpeded by stresses levied upon her by life, outside of those brief moments in bed when she entangled herself with the warmth of her lovers.
​

"You wanted this."​

Damien reminded her of that fact when his cards found their homes slicing through the flesh of Cecil's men as they made their way towards the back of the warehouse. With the grace of a calligrapher he took their hands from them first, and brought them to kneel at his feet. Then from each of them he cut their vision, so that they could no longer make insult with their disrespectful glares. Finally, after they had begged for the Lord's mercy, he cut the tongues from their mouths for their blasphemous ways and slit their throats.
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"You asked for this."​

She had asked for it, and in the midst of all the wanton carnage she found that furious fire still roaring through her veins with every thundering pound of her heart. It wasn't enough to simply play passenger, as much as Damien put on quite the show for her benefit. She had expected to feel terror or remorse upon feeling each of their deaths intimately, but instead she felt no relief and the tension left behind drove her hands to shake with an ungodly compulsion. Each rush of adrenaline had her quaking with all the pent up rage burning at her core.​

 

[Masahir N'air]

12:46am​

Cecil Carter sat paralyzed in his office chair, the cool blue light of the CCTV security feeds washing out his swarthy complexion. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the horror happening on the monitor before him. Between flickers of static the trafficker watched his worst nightmare unfold: several of his men lay dead, either sprawled unceremoniously on the floor where they had fallen or propped carelessly against whatever wall or shelf they'd slid down, vast lakes of crimson-black pooled beneath the guards as they bled out from the necks and flooded the concrete floors with a tide of ichor, and in the midst of it all stood two people- no, not people- hellspawn.

Cecil easily recognized both of them, the woman was obviously one of his prospects, but the man... Cecil swallowed dryly. He knew that tall dark haired man, but had never expected- not in a thousand years- that they would cross paths again or in this way.

He reached under his desk, fumbling around for a few seconds before he pulled out a small black gun case. His fingers trembled as he unlocked the case, checked his ammo and loaded the magazine into his pistol. He cocked the hammer back and lifted the barrel to his temple, silently whispering prayers as he barely managed to keep hold of the grip. His breath came in shaky gasps as his finger depressed the trigger and--
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*** CLICK ***​

Nothing.

Nothing?!

He pulled at the trigger once more and was met with the click of an empty barrel. The now miraculously empty magazine fell to the hardwood floor of the office with a hollow clatter. Cecil's eyes snapped open as he pulled the gun back and stared at it in terror. He had been too late.

"Oh Cecil Carter..." A familiar voice tsked at the man in disapproval. "Always taking the easy and cowardly way out..."

"No..." Cecil breathed, his voice wispy with fear. "But we had business."

"And our deal is done, my morsel. You thought that you could run forever, but it seems that your sins have caught up with you..."

The ceiling lights flickered, and for just the briefest of seconds Cecil Carter swore he saw his captor's huge dark coiling ram horns and hellishly infernal red skin. He saw the piercing way those flaming eyes stared into his soul and feasted upon his sins.

Cecil's eyes were wide with a terrible horror. He had hardly believed in the fairytales that street-corner preachers spouted about gods and devils. Until today he firmly believed that when he died there was only a great vast nothing afterwards, who cared what the fuck he did if it meant he survived and thrived. Some creatures had magical powers, sure, but he had thought the soul-stealing stories to be the stuff of tall-tales and mythology.

The door behind him suddenly flew open, crashing against the adjacent wall. The handle embedded itself in the cement board drywall. Masahir stormed through the door, a portrait of rage as she raised her handgun and aimed at Cecil. "Sit the fuck down!" She commanded.

Cecil, startled out of his mind, bolted to his feet in his panic. Masahir blew one of his kneecaps out for the disobedience. Cecil crumpled to the floor and clutched his ruined joint, his cries of pain coming out half-choked. "Oh god- please no!" He sobbed hysterically. "I don't wanna die!"

"I said sit the fuck down." Masahir demanded with a growl through her teeth. Her whole body was racked with countless waves of awful adrenaline fueled shivers.

"Please..." Cecil whimpered and held out an empty capitulatory hand in a vain attempted to placate the furious woman with his surrender. He was helpless, his own personal handgun laid abandoned and useless just there on the top of his desk. Curse him, curse him and his cowardice! "Please... I'll give you whatever you want. I didn't want anyone to get hurt-"

"Oh what a hypocritical charlatan~" Damien cooed. A huge grin was stretched across his fine face as he clasped his hands firmly on Cecil's shoulders and hoisted the man up into the empty office chair. The trafficker shuddered worse than a leaf in the wind, the crotch of his navy blue suit pants darkening with urine as he trembled. "Did you hear that~? He 'didn't want anyone to get hurt'. What do you think about that, mi hermosa rosa~?"

"Bullshit." Masahir hissed. She stayed firmly in the doorway, unwilling to bring herself closer to the object of her fury. She turned her nose up, repulsed by the stench of his panic.

"Bullshit, she says!" Damien declared in a celebratory singsong fashion. His eyes sparked with unholy glee. "Those are her words, not mine~ Sounds like you're more at her mercy than mine..."

"S-so what, you make a new contract and just say fuck it to anyone else prior?!" Cecil looked between his two captors. The way his heart climbed up into his throat made it hard to speak.

Cecil's phrasing did not go unnoticed by Masahir, who glared hard at Damien. Damien in turn rolled his eyes with disdain and annoyance, and gripped Cecil's ruined knee tight enough to make the man writhe in pure unfiltered agony with each fresh wave of pain sent through his screaming nerves. "Please! Please just- just t-tell me what you want." Cecil pleaded in desperation. "I-I-I- I have connections in hi-high places in Karim. I c-can get you whatever you want!"

The devil turned his wicked gaze on his charge and cocked a fine dark brow at her then stared at the man. "My my... What a delicious bargain you offer, my morsel. Whatever we want... But, hm, how do I put this..." Damien smirked. "I think what we desire is far, far outside of your price range, dear Cecil..."

"Y-You truly are the devil himself..."

"And the Devil has come to take his due!" Damien purred and rounded on the man, lifting his gloved hands to cradle Cecil's jaw as he settled into place behind the trafficker. Cecil whimpered pathetically as he searched Masahir's face for even the smallest trace of pity and compassion, he knew it was a long shot but the pistol she held in her hands had slowly lowered inch by inch over the past couple of minutes.

She still couldn't get the sound of the guards' dreadful gasping last breathes out of her head. They played on looped and filled the confines of her skull until the pressure threatened to split her head in half. A sickened revulsion rippled through her body in pangs with the turn of each thought. The smell of hot copper and meat stuck to the inside of her nose and the blood staining her skin had begun to coagulate into rough drying patches. This was disgusting. She was disgusting. Her guts twisted up into agonizing knots.

Damien's glowering crimson eyes fixated on her expression with a cutting sharpness. His grin faded into a displeased scowl at her growing cold footedness. "Oh come on with it love." He snipped with the slightest impatience.

"I-..." Masa wobbled on her feet and braced against the doorframe, trying to find some patch of clean air amongst the miasma suffocating the warehouse. The tone of disappointment in Damien's words sunk cold claws into her body.

Damien scoffed dismissively. "Fine. It seems you need more persuading to hold to your convictions, Masahir." He snapped his fingers and the heavy door behind Masahir swung shut, sweeping her into the room with the motion.

Her eyes darted up to his face anxiously. She knew he would have his way, that was what the contract stipulated. It was far too late to even dream of backing out now, she just wished that she could breath. Just a face full of fresh air, a gasp of sobering cold breath. She couldn't think straight, her heart raced and thundered against the inside of her ribs and her vision floated. It was too warm in the confines of this room, it reeked of blood and urine and sweat. The tension of terror still hung in the air and clung to her skin.

"Cecil," Damien started, he casually pet the front of the man's throat in an almost affectionate manner, "I'm burning with curiosity. Why don't you tell our darling doll over there what your plans for her were?"

Cecil squirmed then went rigid. "Keep her for myself for a few days," he confessed, "if she was as good as she looked in the pictures. Maybe longer."

Masahir grimaced, looking as if she were about to vomit.

"Oh~?" Damien asked in blithe coyness. "Keep her, and do what dear Cecil? Enjoy her company over honeyed tea and scones? Solve crossword puzzles, perhaps...?"

"No."

"No~?" The devil egged the man on.

"Damien..." Masa warned with a hand clutched to her stomach. He was making a production of this awful shit they were doing. "Don't make him fucking confess..."

"Apparently I must, if I am to get my point across, love. Now Cecil, be good and answer my question."

"For companionship."

"Bah, companionship. What a neutered way of phrasing your intent. Come on Cecil, it's time for confession-"

"Damien, please." Masa urgently cut in again, but was spoken over.

"Me and you both know you wanted more than just toothless company to chatter away the hours with. So be honest with me." Damien pressed. "You'll feel so much better when you get those sins off your chest."

"I just wanted to enjoy the whore of Babylonia. Recognized her from a couple of local classifieds, figured I'd have to keep her locked away or ship her off world." Cecil answered.

"Oh you sinful little deviant." Damien chastised. "And where were you planning to send her?"

"Lords in the Hinterlands are always in need of new wives. They have a need for sons and heirs out that way, what with the feudal land system. They pay good money for exotic women with no local allies."

Masahir wanted to hold in on herself until she collapsed into a black hole. To hear the details of the future she had been spared by a miracle left her swimming in a myriad of intensely frothing emotions.

"I spent last night getting the camera angles set up in the backroom for when I--"
​

!!! BANG !!!​

"Yeah, it's hard to fucking talk with a MASSIVE FUCKIN' HOLE IN YOUR GODS DAMNED SKULL, TÚ PUTAMADRE PENDEJO!" Masahir screamed at the top of her lungs like a shrill banshee at the slaver she had just killed, her shoulders rising and falling with each ragged breath she raked in. Cecil's head lolled to the side, blood pouring from the gaping hole in his face. His jaw hung slack and his eyes bulged from their sockets from the force of the shot. He hardly looked recognizable, but it wasn't enough.​

!!! BANG !!! BANG !!! BANG !!! BANG !!!

!!! BANG !!!​

The last shot was for nothing more than righteous spite on the diva's part. It was only when her eyes finally slid up to meet Damien's infernal ones that she suddenly realized that Damien had been standing right behind Cecil, whom she had just shot six some-odd times. He quirked a brow at Masahir's explosion of anger, but the devil himself was no worse for wear. His suit, however, was a different story entirely. His reflexes had saved him from bullets mindlessly fired into Cecil's skull, but he had to prestidigitate globules of grey matter from his suit sleeve and glove.

But a split second's cleaning up was hardly a footnote before what he had just achieved. The devil slinked over to his diva in a few graceful strides and took the gun from her limp grasp, then embraced her.

She couldn't stop staring at the pulped remnants of Cecil Carter's head. He was no longer recognizable in the slightest. Bits of his scalp clung to the walls and security monitors. Bloody bone shards and gore littered the room in a downright impressive spray of crimson. It disturbed her to reconcile the fact that the stains and smears she was looking at had once contained the physical embodiment of another human being, a human being that she had destroyed. She had caused this scene of savagery, just like she had caused those bandits and cutthroats to burn alive. She was a killer, her hands capable of such awful acts of rage.

Damien took her face in his hands and stroked his thumbs across her cheeks. For the first time that night her mind was finally pulled away from Cecil Carter and the sordid nature of her pain. He commanded that she give her attention to him with the gentle but firm suggestion of his physical affection and smiled proudly down at her bloodstained face. "Oh my beautiful thorny rose..." He cooed sweetly before he leaned down and kissed her. With a snap of his fingers he spirited them away from the carnage.​

 

[Masahir N'air]

1:13am​

Masa rubbed at her puffy eyes. Her mascara ran down her cheeks in bold, dramatic lines that declared her distress to anyone who cared to look- not that it mattered. She pulled her knees up to her bosom and shivered despite the warm waters of her rose scented bubble bath. Damien had spirited them away here, back to his private decadent red pocket dimension. He had striped her down and ran her a big hot bath scented with oils and decorated with piles of fluffy white bubbles. She would have thought his satin bed sheets exquisite just a few hours before, but now the scarlet bed reminded her of the lakes of blood that pooled under the guards, and the finely patterned Victorian wallpaper only brought to mind the countless rivulets of blood running down the cinderblock walls in their wake.

"You did so wonderfully tonight, my precious pet." Damien cooed softly.

The devil sat on a stool next to the tub, his white sleeves were rolled up his forearms to his elbows as he gently scrubbed her back with a plush loofa sponge. He whispered sweet praises to her in a tone so loving that it could convince even the most devout nun that there was good within his infernal heart. She didn't remember when he had abandoned his suit jacket. Her mind was too busy elsewhere. She could still feel the recoil of the pistol against her palms. The sound rang in her ears like an obnoxious hum, an annoying earwig she couldn't get out of her head. And the gasping. The gasping. It played on repeat and would forever haunt the dark recesses of her mind. It wasn't like on her telenovelas, or in movies and video games, where a sliced throat was a silent and instant death sentence, something merciful or fast enough to not think about it closely... But in reality?

Masahir stared down at her hands, her deep brown eyes trailing along the lines of her light palms. Her fingers were already getting pruney. None of this felt real anymore, neither her hands nor the rest of her body felt real. She was just some thing, some creature trapped in a miserable suit of skin, condemned to look out through the eyes of the mask that composed her face. The last thirty-six hours had been one thing after another on the hectic emotional rollercoaster that was her life. The sensation of the loofa running over her back and arms could have been a thousand miles away and she wouldn't have noticed the difference.

"I died." She suddenly declared into the calm silence of the bathroom, ending her retreat into the non-verbal.

"Hm?" Damien asked, puzzled by the steps needed to arrive at her conclusion. "Whatever are you talking about, love?"

"I died that night, in the dressing room. Now I'm stuck living through hell." Masahir stated without looking up at him. Her gaze was still focused on her hands. "Even if you didn't take my soul... I'm still stained and ruined."

"Darling, please. You're not dead, don't be so absurd." Damien dismissed with little fanfare as he worked a rich conditioner into her damp mane of curls.

"Then why has my life been nothing but misery since that night, Damien? I just- augh. Augh!!" She threw her head back and groaned from deep in her throat. "Nothing has gone right since then!"

"Nothing~? Don't be so ungrateful, pet, you'll break my poor heart. I've done so much for you already. I've made many things more than favorable for you over these last eight months."

He didn't have a heart, she wanted to snap. Instead she merely glowered up at him passively. "And what about all that 'business' you apparently had with that piece of shit? How many people did you condemn to his cruelty?"

"Oh behave yourself." The devil sternly corrected her attitude, his voice taking on a sharp edge as she challenged and pried against him. "What is it with humans and their penchant for guilt? You did the world a favor tonight. Really. I don't see why you're so intent on making a total villain of yourself, darling. The world needs strong women, capable of doing the hard work necessary. Normally I'm not one fond of breaking confidentiality, but seeing as Cecil is currently twisting on the rotisserie racks of hell, I'll make an exception for you, my favorite petal. Consider an extra treat for being such a good girl."

Masa rolled her eyes, unamused. He was talking and talking the way smart lawyer types liked to do, "If you must be so intent on nosiness, know that I originally met Cecil Carter at the Solstice Casino."

"And what did he want?"

Damien scoffed out a chuckle. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you, for it caught even myself off guard-"

"Try me." Masa dared and cut him off with little humor. It drove her more than just a little mad to know that he apparently had some sort of history with the man they had just executed. Was he involved in this web of human trafficking? She could barely stomach the mere thought of someone that she had relied on- and fucking SLEPT WITH- for so much doing such a thing. She could overlook the fact that the people around her were ultimately killers and murderers at the end of the day, but... She shook her head and blinked hard a few times, trying to keep ahold of herself. Slavery was too far. At least there was mercy in death.

The coy devil rolled his eyes. "Oh lighten up."

Masa's eyes widened in slight offense at his dismissal, but he carried on regardless. "You will be pleased to know that it didn't require even a drop of my magic. He was a gambling man, and he simply wanted a winning hand. I was the dealer at the poker table, you see." He smiled broadly. "It only required a quick slight of hand, and darling; I've always been a master at cards." He paused, observing her for a few seconds. "There. Better now, petal?"

"Ugh." Masahir huffed, disarmed by his answer. "It was really just card tricks and casino chips, Damien?"

"My lips never lie, and my tongue never flatters." The devil asserted widely and warmly.

"And what was your price?" Masa side-eyed the infernal man shrewdly. She wasn't convinced just yet. There was always a price.

"Oh nothing too serious in the grand scheme, a trifle really." Damien shrugged nonchalantly. "Just some information I was after at the time."

The diva studied him long and hard before exhaling forcefully enough that her infernal partner could have sworn he watched her soul exit her corporeal body. "I'm just some street rat." She whined and buried her face in her hands. "How in all of the hells would I, of all people, explain morals to you, devil? I'm pretty, not smart, remember? That's the only reason anyone ever pays attention to me. It's about empathy." She stated bluntly, her gaze now wandering over the white plumes and crests of sweet scented foamy bubbles. "It's just a feeling you get because you know you did something wrong, because like, you know that you did someone else dirty."

"I hardly think those bandits or traffickers are deserving of your 'empathy', love."

"I don't care about those fucking pigs." Masa remarked spitefully and combed her fingers through one of the piles of fluffy suds and reduced the delicate structure to a deflated mat atop the water. Her lips pressed into a thin hard line as her brows knitted up. She sat like that for a handful of seconds, then suddenly leaned her head back and let out a low growly groan through clenched teeth. "But sometimes I wish that Cho would just... That he would just- Just go away!"

"Oh?" The devil's tail curled in his piqued interest. "Is he that bad to you, love? And here I thought he treated you so well..."

"He shouldn't be with me." Masa remarked with mild indignance. It was true. She did nothing but chew him up and spit him out. She was a creature that sought novelty in fleeting places and consumed it ravenously until she got bored. Cho loved her because she was beautiful. It was as simple as that. People loved her in the same way they loved expensive things. She was a precious necessary accessory to the men in her life, the symbol of their status and prowess. That was why Ulip and Cecil had been so eager when they saw her, eager to commodify her. It was why anyone at all cared. Aesthetics.

But maybe that was the best thing a woman could be, a wonderous piece of art. An eye-catching attraction to the hungry gaze of the world.

"Ouch~" Damien winced dramatically in mock empathy for the earthbender, but his small smarmy grin never once budged.

"Augh. Cállate, demonio." Masahir quipped sharply and pouted up at him from her spot in the tub. He merely smirked warmly at her. Masa rolled her eyes and sulked, resting her chin on her forearms. "That boy is too good to me. All I do is hurt him, with your help no less. If he ever found out about tonight he'd probably never forgive me."

"Then don't tell him about tonight. Truly it's as simple as that, love." The devil answered as if that were the only natural course of action. To him it made little sense to do anything else given the circumstance. He washed his hands off and let the conditioner sit.

"It's wrong to lie to him!" The diva keened the same way a young child protested the fairness of something. "It breaks his heart and makes me feel gross! He's not some dickhead or stranger, I-..."

"What, Masahir?" Damien asked when she suddenly trailed off. "You what?"

"Nothing. It's nothing. I just, I don't know! He trusts me. He loves me. Don't you think it's wrong?" Loves. That word coiled uncomfortably in the landscape of her innards. Love. How could she ever give that back to him? Her inability was unquestionable.

"Wrong?" Damien asked incredulously. "Hell's Bells, no. Telling that poor boy would be tantamount to..." He searched the air for his lines of well practiced wisdoms, "murdering him, don't you think? Really, love, what point would it serve but to act as a double edged dagger plunged into both of your hearts? Is your sense of integrity really worth the agony you'll put him through?"

Masa frowned, the creases at the corners of her lips more apparent than ever. "Why does it sound so selfish when you put it like that?"

"Because, my sweet rose, it is selfish. You're going to, what, go run and tell him about this? And to what end? A self-serving sense of honesty? It would be a truth spoken without regard for the pain it will cause others, all so you may temporarily feel better. Selfish." He whispered that last word in admonishment as he began to rinse the conditioner from her hair with the showerhead.

More tears beaded up along the corners of Masa's eyes and spilled over onto her cheeks. She sucked a sob in and grimaced as she turned her face away. Damien was right. She couldn't dare breath a word of this to Cho, ever. He had promised to love her through all her flaws, but she had gone against all of his wishes. She had snuck away in the night while he slept, like some sort of covert agent, to do what she told him she would not do- what he had pleaded with her to abstain from. Instead, ever reckless and impulsive, she once again found herself disregarding his reasonable requests. He would hate her for it, hate her for lying, hate her for sneaking out. She was fucking pathetic. Disgusting. Wretched. Worthless.

Damien turned the notch on the shower head and the water kicked into a high pressure rhythm that massaged her scalp. She melted under his attentions. Maybe he was right. Maybe she was being selfish. What she had done these past two days were her sins alone to bear, not Cho's. She couldn't just offload this burden onto him and just expect him to bend over backwards soothing her needy emotions. It would hurt him, too.

"What he does not know will not hurt him, pet." The devil firmly maintained as he used his hand to shield the Masahir's face from the water like a visor. "After all, you wouldn't want to be cruel to the poor boy, would you, my rose?"

"No..." She murmured and leaned back to rest against the tub. She could easily envision Cho's distraught expression, those big glimmering green eyes of his swimming with heartbreak, anger, and betrayal. It sent daggers through her chest. Really she wanted to slide down until her face slipped beneath the water so she could just give up and drown. She deserved to be smothered to death. Why was she always doing dumb shit like this? It made her want to scream like a lunatic. Some days she hardly managed to recognize herself in the mirror. Her reflection always registered as hazy, smudged and dripping with the unseen decay of her heart. Who even was she anymore? Who knew. Who. Fucking. Knew. She certainly didn't at this rate.

"Oh won't you perk up, dear rose~? I'm as much of a fan of gothic classics as the next devil, but seeing you sulk..." Damien sighed wistfully. "I know they say that there's a great beauty in pain, but it's simply dreadful, my love..."

Masa swallowed dryly. She was being miserable, and making him miserable too. She could do nothing but inspire rainclouds, even for the broody goth holding her leash. It was yet another icy blade to her core. What if she bored Damien? He was so smooth in his nature, every time he opened that perfectly coy mouth she could do nothing but listen, enraptured. A hundred sensations ran through her mind, memories and reminders of that special solace only he could offer her; the feeling of his soft skin sliding over her own, the way his dark eyes gazed over her and drank her in, alluring in their dangerous hunger. She belonged to him. To lose his favor... It was unthinkable and hurt as real as any slit across her throat. She ran her fingers through her hair and did the best to push the thoughts down and out of her head. She imagined crushing them all down into one little cardboard box and shoving it to the side. A calm settled over her as she sank into the familiar mask of an entertainer and gave him a small rueful smile. "There is great beauty in pain, and great pain in beauty. I must inspire such agony, because I'm nothing short of a masterpiece."

"Spoken like the most eloquent of poets~" Damien complimented. He reached down into the tub and pulled the stopper from the drain then beckoned her to her feet. With a snap of his fingers Masa found herself wrapped in the softest towels she could have imagined. He bent down and ran a hand towel up her calves, taking the opportunity to massage her legs tenderly. "Sometimes you need to destroy ugly things to keep the world beautiful. We do not cry over the weeds that the gardener uproots when he tends to the flowers in bloom, nor the vermin that are exterminated by pest control to prevent disease. Such things must be maintained for the more deserving to thrive and flourish."

Masahir's smile became broader and more sincere as he worked his words over her in time with his motions. His touch was firm and soothing, a reassurance that her company still brought him some feeling of pride. "Then I am your most precious rose ever."

"And I your devoted gardener, petal." He rose to his full height and swept her off her exhausted feet.

The diva trilled a melodic giggle of delight at the royal treatment he bestowed on her tonight. "My gardener, most devoted to seeding the plot~" She teased, her lips brushed against his neck playfully.

"Shall I call you my personal Eden?" He murred back at her in amusement. "You are a paradise deserving of being tending to," he declared as he deposited her on the bed and slithered up alongside her to cozy up. He traced his fingertips over her arm and shoulder in spiraling feather-strokes and watched as her fine hairs stood on end in response. Masa's breathing rose and fell in tempo as he brushed over the sensitive belly of her forearm and inner elbow. Each round of his touch had the stress peeling off her in moan-inducing layers. The way he gazed hard at her in response left even her utterly and entirely flustered.

"Crying for me already, my pet~?" He teased pridefully.

"Hh, it's been a long two days..." She breathed with only the slightest edge of defensiveness. Her cheeks were tinged with a deep blush. "This poor rose has missed the way that her gardener tends all of her needs..."

A deep sultry chuckle rumbled from his throat, his spaded tail coiled in pleased approval. The sharp angles of his fine features were softened by warm shadows. Unlike her, with her deep sun-kissed sun, the inky black of his long lashes, sharp brows, and immaculately groomed goatee contrasted strikingly against his pale skin. Those dark brown eyes of his, ever so slightly downturned, studied every detail of her pleasure. He inhaled audibly, then exhaled with a marked sigh as if he was fighting to keep his ever-patient composure in check.

She watched the lines of his handsome mouth as he sighed. Fuck. He was like a living sculpture in his elegant perfection, the vision of a fully realized artist. He brushed the modesty of her towel to the side in a single motion. The way his gaze smoldered with dark passion as he drank in her form was enough to make her squirm in impatient desire. He hungered ravenously. Dangerously, that voice at the back of her head warned.

Yet he abstained from touching her further. There was entertainment in torturing her with all the anticipation and watching her writhe, she figured. He wanted her beg. He loved when she cried for him.

"Damien..." Masahir breathed with a pleading tone, eliciting a coy grin from the devil.

"How beautiful you are when your blood runs hot in desperation, my love~" Damien downright purred. His words sent waves of terrible need racing through her body and left her groaning.

"I bet you can hardly help yourself, can you, pet~?" He gloated and traced a single black nail up the sensitive skin of her bare midriff.

She licked at her lips. Hungry. Hungry. The pangs of searing need settled in her lower abdomen. It made it hard to think about anything else. "Can I be your little bunny-rabbit tonight, please Papi~?"

He was the wolf to her rabbit. The predator to her prey.

Why did she find such steady comforts held in his vicious jaws, then?

"Darling..." Damien grinned, his fangs bared in the moody crimson light, "say no more~"

A black leash snapped into existence in his hand, a matching collar cinched itself closed around her neck. The leather necklace was decorated with a playfully tittering silver bell at the front, a cute little thing, really.

Masa swallowed, relishing the way the leather constricted her throat. "Damien," she breathed, more vulnerable than ever as she laid bare under him, "Am I yours?"

"Yes." Damien affirmed with an insurmountable confidence. "And you shall want for no other, dear rabbit."

Oh... How alluring he made the command of total submission. He was awfully good to her, the bunny living in the wolf's pocket. "Will you be nice to your favorite bunny tonight, master?"

"Of course, my love~" He cooed as he descended to kiss and nip at her delicate jawline.

She smiled with a small sigh, a feeling of peace settling over her raw mind, and closed her eyes, then utterly surrendered herself to him. ​