tampered | Log; Complete

Log; Complete

When; October 24th, earlier in the day
Rating; R (gratuitious violence)
Characters; Arion

heronoday, Belphegor

unknownandi
Summary; The psychotic duo go witch-hunting... and "find" one.
Log;

The two strolled down the street, heading towards the last known location of one of the people on the list they'd recieved: Arion. It had been something of a success last night, working together. So why not again?

"It's good to have friends in these troubled times," X said cheerfully to his companion, using the same boyish shape as last night, very close to his favored form, but without the strangely colored eyes and hair. He didn't want to become one of the accused, after all. Not while passing the time like this. He'd have to start all over again, making himself known as one of the pious, and talking funny and making speeches got boring after a while.

He was playing the role of witch-hunter much more lightly now than when this whole curse mess had begun, though. "Since you never know who you'll run into in this city, right?"

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Arion hastily walked down the street, not really looking at anyone else he passed. It was stupid to wander around in the open, especially alone, but he needed to find something to eat. Dwayne's Goldfish and Cheez-Its hardly made a satisfying meal.

He stopped at the curb to get his bearings, not really sure where he was going, but well aware of what he wanted to find. A small store would be good; he didn't want to run into any witch hunters, not after Jolly posted up that lovely accusation. Still, he was getting dangerously close to the Square.

He turned to walk on, zipping his hoodie partway. Of all the times for it to get chilly, it had to be when he was forced to camp out.

"Lots of dangerous folks around," Belphegor agreed, snickering at the thought that he was amongst the more dangerous of them, in his opinion. Others might have supernatural powers, but they could hardly stand in the face of royalty.

His eyes, forever shaded by shaggy blond bangs, followed his companion. He wasn't sure if the other was affected or not, but it hardly mattered. Whoever he was, this newfound peon wasn't half-bad to play with. In fact, Marmon Mark 2 was almost as good as the original and didn't even bother him talking about money or any of that nonsense. Besides, if this one got in his way, he'd be just as fun to try and kill as to kill with.

"But it's no fun if everyone's gone hiding into the same holes," he murmured, tilting his head back to stare at some of the people they passed. "That's not how you're supposed to play the game at all."

"Game? This is no game," X chided cheerfully. It really was a game, but far be it from him to actually say that. "This is the Lord's work, right? Important stuff. See, watch this."

"Hey, you!" he called out to the back of Arion's head, up ahead. A solitary person would be good for fun, accused or not. It didn't really matter too much. If they weren't a 'witch', they could just make him 'confess'. That was fun, too, even if it was something of a foreign idea to hurt people and not just kill them. "Do you know the light of the Lord, or are you a foul servant of the Devil himself? We'd like to know, you see."

It took a second for Arion to realize the words were meant for him and he glanced around, startled. For a brief instant, he didn't know whether to run or try to reason with them; it definitely took a lot of effort to not look as anxious as he felt. In the end, his common sense won him over and he forced himself to stay still. He knew that even if he did manage to outrun these two, he'd still attract a lot of unwanted attention.

"Definitely not a servant of the Devil, thanks." The accusations were starting to get a little old.

"I dunno," Belphegor stepped lightly to intersect with Arion's path, boots making soft sounds as he did. It was less intimidating if he didn't make any noises, even if he wasn't going overkill like Squalo might.

He leaned forward, taking a sniff of the air with an exaggerated playfulness, hands still buried in his pockets, "Smells a little like brimstone. We might have to take you in for questioning just to be safe."

X nodded in agreement with his royal companion. "You know, I think I caught the scent just now? And we can't be too careful. Witches are good at disguising themselves... hmm."

"What did you say your name was, again?" he asked their new 'friend', smiling sweetly, all the while giving him a careful, thorough look-over.

Arion stopped short of Belphegor, not liking the way this was going. "Brimstone?" he echoed, the word only with a hint of a question. Next they'll be accusing me of being a dragon.

He stared at X, expression unreadable, but it was getting harder to hold his ground. "I didn't." He was not telling them his name, at least not the name he'd been accused under—but he knew there was no way they'd let him go without something. "It's Isaac." He wasn't lying; technically, that name was more real than the one he used.

Now he just had to hope they found him too boring to play with. And genuinely had no idea who he was.

"Isaac, Isaac," Belphegor hummed, rolling the name over in his mouth as he thought of the list he'd been given. The humans certainly were silly, just handing out lists to whoever volunteered to go hunting for witches. Didn't they know that people could take advantage of a situation like this?

He cocked his head to the side. He couldn't remember an Isaac on their list, but it would be boring just to let this one go.

"I think there might have been an Isaac on our list, come to think of it. Wasn't there?" he grinned as he lied, glancing up at X as he pulled free a few knives, spreading them like a fan in his hand.

X gave him a purely innocent look of confusion, before the idea fully registered. Playing at being a evil witch hunter who was pretending to be a good witch hunter while actually being a murderous thief who didn't actually know who he was... it was even more confusing than usual.

"I don't th-- oh, you know, you're right!" he suddenly smiled, and turned back to Isaac, wondering if the guy would try to run. "Why don't you come with us. It's okay if you don't want to come nicely, but we might have to hurt you a bit. In the Lord's name, of course."

This Isaac seemed normal enough -- another human, probably. He'd seen hundreds of humans' insides, and they were all the same. No point in using him to fill a box, even if he was willing to risk it with Belphegor around. No, they could just turn him in, after a little playing around.

Oh, fucking shit. Arion immediately drew back; Belphegor had been too close to begin with and now he was pulling out knives. Fucking hell.

"I'm not a fucking witch," he said, an edge of panic leaking into his voice. Were they going to try to kill him? A part of him almost hoped they would—but that'd just cause more problems, especially with the curse.

Belphegor laughed, a hissing 'ushishishi' beneath his breath, one that could send shivers up the spine of any of the Vongola's proud number, aside from his dear king.

"Then it should be a very short trial," a flick sent a knife just past Arion's leg to bury in the ground, the wire attached to its base unseen. "You won't have anything to repent for."

"I think you look like a witch," X said casually, moving closer, trying to corner Arion. "But either way, I guess we'll find out. There's the dunking... and I watched them snap one lady's fingers."

"We can probably get more creative than that, though," he continued cheerfully. "Hey, Prince-y. I hear there's spots on a witches' body that won't bleed if you poke them. Should we try?"

Arion immediately leapt back when Belphegor threw the knife, his back colliding with the wall behind him. X was close, too close, and he felt his last shred of self-control dissolve. He bolted—should’ve done that in the first place—cursing himself for leaving beach and rejecting Robin's help.

"Ah!" Belphegor's grin widened with an almost manic twitch of glee. Did their Isaac realize he wanted to play hide and seek with them a little late?

"Looks like we'll have to catch him to see," he didn't start running, shifting to send the handful of projectiles flying, invisible wires trailing in the air behind the knives.

X was the one who moved, taking a quick sprint across the road. Definitely faster than any human ought to be. Zipping out in front of Arion, he reached out to snatch at one on the young man's arms and crush it just a little, for fun.

If one of the two didn't catch him, surely the other would. They were such a great team, after all. X considered, maybe, after all this witch curse stuff was over, he should find his Prince again sometime.

"Gah—!" Arion felt the hand close around his arm and his body abruptly jerked to a halt; he doubled over for only a moment, before pulling almost hard enough to dislocate his shoulder in the struggle to get loose. He glanced at Belphegor in a panic, staring at the knives; as if he needed any more encouragement to escape.

Ah! His Marmon Mark 2 already caught the witch. Belphegor laughed, abandoning the thrown knives to catch up with the pair. He drew another slender knife as he approached.

"The prince's lackey is fast," he beamed, stepping forward to press a knife against Arion's skin.

"Lackey?" X should almost feel insulted. But he just laughs instead. Maybe the Prince needs introduction to a nice little toy he stole. Although, there's all that hair covering his eyes... ah, but that's a thought for another day.

X just grabs for Arion's other arm too, the better to hold him still. Someone who looks like an adolescent boy should not be that strong either, his fingers digging in hard, but it really does seem effortless to X.

"Let's move him over there," X nods over to a side-street. "He can confess there. Won't you, Isaac? Unless you want to confess now, to being a witch and all?"

X really hopes he doesn't.

"I'm not a fucking witch!" Arion spat, wincing at the increased pressure on his arms. He held very still, but still a thin line of blood appeared against the knife. "Go find a real witch, you fucking psychos!"

"Psychos?" Belphegor laughed, shaking his head, "We're not crazy. We're geniuses." He shifted the knife deeper against Arion's skin, only sparing a glance at the alley that X had pointed out.

"And we're gonna help you confess whether you want to or not."

"Geniuses," X repeated, echoing Belphegor's laugh.

"Don't make this harder than it has to be, witch," he added, loudly to make sure that people 'knew' what was going on here, while trying to think up something new and suitable for their purposes. Encouraging other people to torture others was better, since that way he didn't have to think up things on his own. It was an art, and X didn't really consider himself an artist.

"We could, hmm. I don't think we have any nails or a hammer. So I guess we can't drive nails into bits of you. The Prince has his knives, though. Want us to cut off little bits until you confess? We could do that. Or I could break your arm. Mmm, what else could we do, Prince-y?"

Arion bit back a hiss of pain as the knife dug deeper into his skin. Don't scream, don't scream, don't scream...don't make a fucking sound.

"You don't even care about the confessions," he said, shrinking back from them. "It's just a fucking excuse." They were insane. Figures he'd get the insane ones.

A conspiritorial glint flickered in Belphegor's eye, hidden behind the mask of his hair as he softly intoned, "We don't."

"We could skin you alive, you know," Belphegor continued, voice growing louder as he let the knife sink deeper, bright crimson an almost intoxicating sight. Never as much as his own, no, but he liked the sight, lived for it.

"I wonder if witches have insides that look the same as us?"

"I wonder." It was practically a trigger for the thoughts just hiding under the surface in X's mutated brain cells. Should he try to take the young man apart? But he didn't want to make a box here. That would be bad, revealing him as truly a killer, of the kind the chruch didn't approve of. And then it was back to square one again.

"But... we're supposed to take witches to the church," he said, apropos of nothing, working through half of his thoughts aloud. "After they confess. They're only ours until then."

Arion paled, both from pain and fear, but a part of him wondered if he should provoke them. The little voice that told him he was really a terrible person insisted he should. But he had never intentionally tried to kill anyone before; he wasn't about to start now. At least...not while he was sane.

So, he didn't say anything, eyes darting quickly between the two of them. He was too terrified to say anything, really.

And he was pretty sure the bones in his arms were fractured. And that he needed stitches. Yeah, he definitely needed stitches.

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