Chapter Text
“What’s this?”
Jasper rolls the sheathed blade around between his two palms. Leather binds it tight, a simple snap keeping the cover in place. The handle is showy, boasting it’s intended deadliness with several hooked circles for his fingers to fit through; Like knuckle dusters. He’d seen those on TV.
It’s no longer than the length of his forearm, from tip to pommel.
“Your weapon.” Remi says.
He’s slapped it down on Jasper’s hand, not a word spoken otherwise, and now he’s talking as if Jasper is missing the obvious.
His eyebrows raise, “My weapon?” Jasper repeats, curling his hand around it. He tests his fingers through the manufactured rings– A solid, comfortable, fit, “Thanks, but I don’t really use knives.”
That’s Jae’s weapon of choice.
Or was Jae’s weapon of choice. He curls his grip tight.
“I know, that’s the point.” Remi sits back down across from him, hand bracing on the seat to keep from falling. The rumbling roads outside of Três Lagoas were a smooth ride up until Maria announced they were turning off onto gravel and red dirt. Suddenly, sitting became the only option lest any of them fell on their asses.
In his opinion, the Order’s vans should come with seat belts in the back. Jasper’s legs are tired from bracing against the footing to keep upright. That’s the first thing he’ll mention when he returns; First mission went great, but fix your van’s suspension.
“They won’t just give you your weapon back.” Tuco says from the front seat. He cracks his neck to the side, trying to muscle out a hidden strain, “Sorry, kid.”
“So this is what I get instead?” Jasper huffs, exasperated, “A knife? We’re fighting blood zombies, and you’ve given me a knife?”
“Even a scythe wouldn’t be effective,” Remi reminds him, palm raised in a calming motion, “And we can’t trust you with a gun yet.”
“Clearly.” Jasper lifts his handcuffed wrists. They’ve been making a racket the whole ride over. He can’t wait to get them off the minute they arrive.
“I don’t see what the problem is, you know?” Tuco says, glancing briefly over his shoulder, “The guy can bite. I’ve seen it. Unless you plan on muzzling him, he’s always dangerous.”
“Jasper can’t bite as fast as a round of pistol shot.” Remi drawls, “And it’s not nearly as deadly.”
“I dunno. He bites pretty hard.”
Remi glances at Jasper. The floor suddenly becomes very, very, interesting.
He sighs, “Relax, this shouldn’t be an intense mission by any means. Even bringing you was overkill, Tuco. We go in, clear out some blood zombies, and leave. Takes less than a couple hours and Jasper won’t leave my side.”
Jasper slumps against the chair, “If it’s so easy, then why bring me?” Especially if he was just gonna sideline Jasper like this.
“You want to go on bigger missions, right? To find these cultists?”
He nods, slow.
“Then you need to prove you can handle it. Get through this, and we can build up your credibility as an agent,” Remi sways in place with the movements of the car. He fingers the ridges and strings along the inside of his arm, tugging down his sleeve, “Every mission is a dangerous one with the paranormal. Just because we know what’s coming, doesn’t mean there isn’t a chance it can go wrong.”
“Jesus, he even sounds like Veríssimo.” Tuco tuts.
Smothering it with their hand does little to hide Maria’s laughter.
“I heard that.” Remi mumbles coyly, catching Maria’s eye in the rearview mirror.
“Ah, but it’s true, amor. You do.” It sounds more praising than teasing when Maria says it, and Remi’s cheeks bloom with color, expression pleased.
“Stay focused.” He says, lifting his chin.
Somehow, Maria’s cackles just grow louder.
Their GPS suddenly chirps, the map on Maria’s screen twisting to show their destination inching closer.
“Few minutes left until arrival.” Maria announces, tapping the alerts away.
Jasper wobbles up the length of the van to glance out the window. In the distance, saturated by the blues of distance, sits their target; An old sugar production factory.
It’s been shut down for years now due to an influx of phone calls from that location. Complaints about outages, sudden changes in temperature, and an inky darkness that crawled along their pipes.
C.R.I.S pinged it for paranormal activity ages ago and since then, it’d been collecting dust. Or so Maria’s retelling goes.
Nothing special. Nothing related to Jasper. No cultists, no Sangue– Nothing. It’s hard not to take offense. And part of him wonders if the reason they picked this location to begin with was because it’s too far out from any civilization for him to book it reasonably to.
(An underestimation on their part. Jasper wasn’t sitting around doing nothing with Aguiar, he was training. He was learning. And at least twice now his thoughts have drifted to the logistics of cutting and running. Though, he’s far too monitored for that.)
Another jostle and Jasper lands back onto his seat. “Hold tight.” Tuco calls.
Remi gestures to Jasper’s knife with a nod, “Can you use it?” He asks.
Jasper presses his lips together in a thin line. Shrugs.
He can, yeah, but he’s not gonna like it. Or pretend to. He holds it tight and pops the sheath’s button, thumbing the covering off. Serrated, pointed, and gleaming; It is a perfectly crafted blade. The central groove is smooth and shallow, he runs a finger along it just to check.
He sucks in a breath. It’s unsteady even to his own ears.
Jasper does a testing swipe through the air, however much he can with his wrists bound together, and adjusts his grip slightly. A slash. A stab. The knuckle grip is nice, but unnecessary.
It’s like he can hear Aguiar in the back of his head, scanning it over with Jasper’s eyes.
“It’s fine.” He bends over and picks back up the fallen sheath, wiggling it back on. The snap is easy to do one handed, at least, “I prefer my scythes.”
They were balanced to his weight, a more familiar grip and swing than the one-handed hunter’s blade. Plus, he had less distance to work with– A knife like this puts him in striking distance any time he’s to use it.
Remi did say it was purposeful. It’s meant to cow him slightly, though not enough to put him in danger should any arise. For that goal alone, it works perfectly.
So it’s fine. And Jasper isn’t gonna think about it much more than that. Not Jae, or Aguiar, or the trust to put a weapon in his hands but the distrust enough to not choose the right one.
He catches Maria slipping their face back to front, and Jasper realizes with a start that the van is a lot quieter than it had been a few moments ago.
Oh. He tries to hold back a wriggling grin.
“Didn’t mean to make you all nervous.” Jasper says.
Remi reclines back, “Don’t look so happy about it.”
Tuco warns everyone about another turn and the whole car shifts to accommodate their wheels chugging over loose ground.
“We’re here!”
Jasper leans his head back to drink in the sunlight as Remi fiddles with his restraints. Stretching his legs feels great after what’d felt like ages cramped in a car, then longer cramped inside the Order. While visits outside have grown far more common since his early days, it’s always a treat in his mind.
Remi tugs the keys out, “What do you think of the place?”
Jasper sighs, glancing it over with lidded eyes.
Their designated location– this factory– Is a several story tall abandoned waste of stone. Far out from civilization, it sits with broken windows and rusting doors, a tetanus shot waiting to happen. Be that as it may, it had a more recent usage as a make-do home for people trying to escape the heavy fees of living.
Even from a few meters away, Jasper can see blankets covering windows and lines of dried laundry, abandoned.
“Empty.” He says.
Mist crests over the open sills and leaks through doorframes.
Jasper tacks on a quick; “Probably.”
Maria had traced the length of it through the air the second he stepped out; Three stories above ground, two below. Parking garage. There was an entrance to it, but it’s locked from the other side. So we’ll have to go in and take the service stairs down.
Then they told him to wait.
No one is allowed into the building until Tuco and Maria have cased it first. If there’s traps or new build-up of fog, Maria and Tuco would be the ones to notice it. Not Remi and an overeager Jasper. Their words, not his.
His cuffs come free and Remi stuffs them in his pocket, “There,” He says, stepping away, “Stick by me, understood?”
“I get it,” Jasper drawls, “I promise I won’t run off into the Mato and get myself killed.” It’s the most he can promise with an honest tone.
Remi hums, clapping him on the shoulder, “Now you’re getting it.”
He snorts. It could maybe be construed as a laugh.
Jasper stretches out his hands and arms, raising them high above his head. His joints pop and he stifles a pleased groan. So much nicer. It’s been ages since he’s hunted, and he wants to be loose and ready for it.
Jasper’s hooking the knife onto the band of his pants when Maria and Tuco come back, brusque. Remi greets them with a grunt and confusion of his own– Not a great sign if Remi’s also confused.
Maria barely gives Jasper a second look as they grab Remi’s arm, “Hey, come here.” They say under their breath. Almost as quickly as they arrive, they bustle away further down the sidewalk.
Jasper watches them with a furrowed brow.
Weird.
Tuco comes to a stop by his side, hands on his hips, “Damn, they’re fast.” He puffs, fanning himself.
“Is everything alright?” Jasper asks.
“Yeah, it’s fine. Seems clear.” He shrugs, “Looks like someone had a party on the first floor though. Maria said the only big signs of life they saw were drugs, but even those seemed old. So, likely no one living inside.”
“So what’s with…?” He jabs a thumb at Maria and Remi.
Tuco’s eyes flick between them, “Ah, you know. Couples.” His tone is suggestive, hand-waving the two of them.
Alright. That’s– Well, that’s not an answer. He’s not dumb enough to press the issue, though. Clearly, this is something they’re not willing to loop Jasper in on. He watches from a distance, busying his hands with making an overcomplicated knot of the sheath hanging from his waist.
In sparing glances, Remi’s expression darkens, shifts.
“We can just come back later.” Maria says, quiet, voice only barely carried by the wind.
“It’s fine.” Remi assures them, “I’ll… I’m fine.”
“Remi.”
“I promise.” He tangles their fingers together and rests their hand over his heart.
“Hey lovebirds,” Jasper suddenly calls, “Are we going or not?” He startles himself with his own intrusion, something twisting in his chest compelling it.
“Yes–” Remi starts, louder now, “Tuco and Maria take two and three. You and I will do… the lower levels.” Maria relaxes an inch.
“If there’s any blood zombies, they’ll be down there.” Tuco reminds him.
“We’re hardly unprepared.” Remi says with a shrug, “Besides, once you’re both done upstairs, you can meet back up with us. It’s faster.”
“Most people lived upstairs too. There shouldn’t be any signs of life below. You might just sweep it clean and wait outside.” Maria notes, lips pursed, “At least, that’s what the first floor shows.”
“Wait–” Jasper holds out a hand, “Hang on, if you finish sweeping upstairs you’ll come down to meet us, but if we finish downstairs we wait outside? Why?”
“‘Cause you’re precious cargo.” Tuco is quick to reply, ruffling his head. Jasper scowls, batting him off.
The air doesn’t steady, though, and Remi and Maria keep sharing glances with unspoken words between them. Tuco’s smile looks resigned. And for what? Jasper’s stomach twists and churns, caustic acid boiling in his gut.
All three of them are a united front and Jasper shouldn’t be surprised that it’s against him, but it’s still… Whatever. The teams are two and two, which is beneficial for Jasper. Less people to deal with, easier to sneak out if the opportunity rises.
Which he… has a plan for, certainly. He has a knife now, at least.
A clap splits the near tangible pall, “Let’s get moving then.” Maria says, “Faster we start, the faster we end.”
Tuco tosses him a flashlight from the depths of his pocket. He catches it, “Don’t tell me this is all I’m gonna do.” He complains.
“Boring is better than dead.” Maria teases, “You’ve got a steady grip, right?”
“Yeah.” He grumbles.Testing its beam against his palm, Jasper jogs to Remi’s side and Maria returns to Tuco’s. They huddle in, foot to foot.
“Divide and conquer.” Remi says, “If you see anything that looks like too much, we return and face it together. I want no major injuries, and definitely no death. This place isn’t worth it. Got it?”
They all nod and mumble agreements.
“If a group doesn’t return within an hour, call out and leave.” Jasper’s breath catches. Really, now? Energy buzzes under his skin. Interesting choice. It’s for their safety, he assumes; If no one shows up because they’re dead, then it’s best to leave and come back more prepared instead of hunting for them.
However Jasper hears that if he vanishes, there’s a definite hour-long head start. Surely not now– He mentally recounts what he has on him and it’s barely anything. A knife, his clothes, and maybe– maybe– Whatever Remi has on him if he can pick a pocket. Or maybe take from the factory itself.
Risky. God, all of it would be so risky. He shouldn’t. There’s too much on the line, information about the cult, about Elisa– But the time it would take to get them? How much time has he already wasted here?– Jasper tries to school his expression back to neutrality.
Remi’s lips press into a grim line, “Olhos sempre abertos. Good luck.”
He won’t. Maybe. Jasper lags behind Remi as they vanish into the factory’s worn doorway.
If the chance comes, he’ll take it.
Temperatures drop the moment they get halfway down the first staircase. Thank god.
Jasper was roasting in the van, and the heat was getting uncontrollable outside. One of the few things he misses about being locked in a glorified closet is not having to deal with Brazil’s massive heat wave of a summer.
Sweat cools on his skin as they descend.
“We’ll start with the closest and move downwards. I don’t want to be pinned if something above us hears us moving.” Remi says over his shoulder, pulling open the first door.
Jasper dutifully follows, “You’re pretty paranoid for someone leading a mission.”
“It’s not paranoia, it’s preparedness.” Remi says, “I figured you’d understand that.”
“What, because I was on the run for five years?” Jasper drawls, flicking on the flashlight. He draws the beam over the high arches of the parking garage, watching streams of dust flit through the light, “That made sense for the situation. I was being hunted, or would’ve been.” And look what good it did me anyway. Still got arrested.
Remi gestures to the collective space around them, “This is a time to be paranoid, Jasper. Lives are on the line. And as a leader, it’s my responsibility to–” Blah, blah, blah. Jasper tunes out.
He respects the guy’s sense of duty, it reflects his own in a strange, funhouse mirror, way– But Jasper has little patience to hear about it every day. There’s more important things on his mind.
He sweeps the light over abandoned vehicles, torn apart and engines ripped. There’s rubble from collapsed pillars crushing some, black spots where small explosives or fires were started. He can imagine some random teenagers coming here to blow stuff up. Break things. Scream. Jasper would’ve liked a place like this.
Probably for different reasons than most, though. He frowns, scanning over the walls of graffiti.
Now that he thinks about it, this place would be perfect for rituals. Empty, with a thin membrane, maybe some blood zombies in it but– Hardly a huge contest if you’re someone looking for a good spot to plant a symbol or ritual.
Jasper can recall amany conversations had over his head by his parents, who either didn’t know or care that he could listen. Places like these were few a far between; Hotspots for activity that they could all collude to if needed.
Why is it so empty? Of citizens he understands, but occultists?
Distracted, he walks straight into Remi.
“Hey–!” He snaps.
Remi doesn’t move. His broad back remains still. Something cold crawls up Jasper’s spine and he leans over to see past him.
Nothing?
His light sweeps the space. He strains his ears. No sounds. No monsters.
Jasper’s brow furrows. “Remi?” He questions, looking him up and down.
Remi jolts, turning to face the nearest wall. He palms his face suddenly, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Shit.” He rasps.
“There’s nothing there.” Jasper says, squinting into the dark, “If you’re seeing something, I’m not.”
Oh. Wait.
Jasper points the light downwards as it catches on a glimmering something.
Needles. Well, that’s gross. They’re tossed about like confetti, empty vials and bright plastic connectors pointed with sharp ends. Jasper should probably watch his step, god knows what he could catch from cutting a hand on those.
A wiggling thought rises in his head.
“Needles?” Jasper wonders aloud, “Is that it?”
Remi’s stunted silence is answer enough. He scowls after a long beat, “Don’t patronize me.”
“I’m not patronizing.” Jasper rolls his eyes. He glances them over. “Is this why we couldn’t go upstairs?”
Maria had been rather hush-hush about the whole thing. But for what– To hide it from Jasper? Yeah, god forbid he knows Remi can feel fear, he wouldn’t have assumed it otherwise.
His mind drifts to the van, and the knife feels heavy on his hip.
“I’d rather not talk about it.” Remi shakes his head, voice straining.
Jasper scowls. He hates this shit– This unknowing. He doesn’t care what the truth is, just that he knows it. This silent, second-rate, bullshit where he’s meant to presume what they want from him is more frustrating than it was with Aguiar.
Jasper puffs, “What, you can know everything about me but I can’t know anything about you?”
Remi stiffens. His eyes slide shut momentarily, “Ideally.”
“I’m not gonna bully you for having a fear of needles.” Jasper grumbles, “I’m not that much of an asshole. Can we move on now?”
“Don’t say that. I’m not afraid of them.” He hisses, running a hand through his hair. Still, he stands silent as stone, facing the wall. Jasper keeps waiting for him to shake it off and continue walking, but he doesn’t. It occurs to him that Remi might just… stay there.
“Of what? The needles?”
He keeps rubbing at his face, looking up at the ceiling, teeth grit.
“C’mon man. We can’t do a mission like this.” Jasper implores, gesturing around with the flashlight.
“Shut up.”
Jasper huffs. Fucking hell. Is this how it’s gonna be? Remi so stuck in his own ego he can’t explain why he won’t walk past unmoving needles? Now, knowing Jasper’s luck, he’ll poke him about it and learn that Remi used to be a lab experiment or something.
“Fine.”
Well, he considers lightly, then at least they’d have that in common.
He marches over, sitting against a car’s rear wheel. Keeping his eyes forward, he watches over the field of used needles and old blood.
They can’t stop before they’ve even begun. If nothing else, for their combined pride.
Remi keeps looking upwards, face red. Jasper bites down on the inside of his cheek.
“When I was a kid, my parents used to drown me.”
Remi startles, head whipping over to look at him. Jasper can feel his eyes burning into the side of his face.
“You probably already knew that. Or parts of it.” He cards a hand through his hair, “I went to school, came home, and got drowned until I thought I was gonna die. They just– Held my head under and…” Jasper’s mouth goes dry and he trails off.
His throat clicks with an audible swallow.
“You wanted to know why I couldn’t wash my hair. Don’t– Don’t act like you didn’t. I know you did. You and Maria both. I figured you already knew, but… Maybe that got missed in the report. I don’t think I ever brought it up. I can’t imagine anyone else did.” Aguiar, his mind supplies, He wouldn’t tell them that. A weakness. An exploit–
Oh. That’s why Remi didn’t say anything.
“Okay. Your turn.” Jasper says. One weakness for another.
Remi hums noncommittally.
They sit in silence. Jasper picks at his nail. He’s fine to wait it out if he must.
“I used to do drugs.” Remi says.
Jasper considers the needles carefully, “These ones?”
“I don’t know.” Remi admits, “It doesn’t matter. I get along fine most of the time. The urges pass. But memories…” He hand waves it off, shaking his head. “Maria saw them littered upstairs. I thought– Maybe we were safer down here.”
“You don’t do it anymore? Drugs?”
“No.” Remi gruffs.
“Do you wanna turn back?”
Remi needles him with a look. Jasper raises his hands in surrender.
He kicks one with his boot and watches it roll away. What did Aguiar do? He handed him a hose and said to get it done, however that looked like for him. But– Well, that’s not going to work with Remi. This is… different.
Jasper taps a tune out on his sneaker. He thinks of Lena covering his ears. He thinks of Maria sneaking a small light into his cell. He thinks of Remi demanding of him, earnestly; What do you need? And ordering a break when his temper falls short.
Hm.
“Alright, hang on.” Jasper stands, casually strolling over to the needles. He kicks them with his boot, nudging them out of the way. Each one slowly rolls into a pile Jasper makes along the wall. There’s not many, luckily. The flashlight glint catches anything on the ground that could sit in their path.
“What are you doing?”
“Just hang on.”
He glances around and tugs a piece of wood out from a shabby hovel, using it to cover up the pile. It’s pretty obvious something is hidden under it, but it’s not about knowing they’re there. At least, with Jasper, it’s not. A bottle of water doesn’t do anything for him; But running it over his neck?
“There.” Jasper announces, crushes them under his boot, “Clear. You can turn around.”
He turns, scanning the space. No needles in sight.
“See? Clear.” Jasper shoves his hands into his pockets, “You’re welcome.”
There’s something… raw in his eyes. Hidden in the irritated red of swollen tear ducts. In this way, Remi stares at Jasper like he’s a puzzle they simply can’t figure out. The sentiment is returned in kind.
Jasper ducks his head. “C’mon already.”
A growl emanates from the next space over, running a shiver up his nape.
Immediately, the two of them drop to a crouch. There’s a divider between the two halves of the parking lot, sitting up to Jasper’s stomach. Remi gestures to it, waving the hand Jasper’s using to carry his flashlight low. They crawl over it with ease, following the sounds of gnashing teeth.
Jasper sticks close to Remi’s shoulder.
Silent, the two of them creep towards the sound. Remi announces it in a whisper before Jasper’s flashlight, “Blood zombie.”
Grotesque and weeping, the mass of flesh croaks and claws at the air. Its disfigured foot drags behind it, slowing it considerably. There’s no eyes that Jasper can see and, considering how it doesn’t react to him shining the beam over it’s bulbous, pulsing, skull– He assumes it has no sight.
Easy. The world’s easiest kill.
“You want this?” Remi offers.
“Nah. All yours.” Jasper pats his knife, more comfortable with it at his hip than in his hand. He does want to hunt something down but… what’s the thrill in this? It’s glorified janitorial work, and he’s happy to make Remi work for it instead. It’ll hardly be a strain for him either.
He places the flashlight upright on a car hood, providing a wide range of view as it spills outwards.
“Alright, get back.”
Jasper hides a roll of his eyes and backs up behind a collapsed pillar, sitting at the slant to get the best view from afar. Regarding his spot, Remi gives a resigned huff, and darts out into the open space.
Before the monster can even react to his shifting feet, Remi cocks his gun, flicks off the safety, and fires all in one smooth motion.
The shot goes straight through, clipping off elongated fangs and viscous, stringing, meat. The creature shrieks, rearing wildly, and Remi leaps aside as it swipes.
Jasper whistles lowly as its claws almost glance Remi’s foot. He can’t deny that it’s fun to watch Remi work, especially in his element. The shot went long, sure, but he can see the advantage of forcing the beast to rear instead of giving him time to adjust. He’s hardly going to kill the thing in one shot anyhow, not with the caliber they’re packing.
His heart is racing in his chest and Jasper palms it, surprised. He missed this. This game of logistics and battle, the rush of adrenaline. It’s wasted here, but when Jasper gets his chance?
His focus strays to the open stairway on the other end of the lot. Just slightly.
Remi circles around, aims– Two shots this time sear through the thing’s head and splatter across the floor. It buckles and slaps forward onto the concrete, twitching. Efficiency at its finest. Three bullet loss on a thing wider than it is tall. Jasper can’t deny it; He’s a little in awe.
Remi wipes his brow of sweat. The mass of flesh begins to bubble and burn, the smell of horrid turgid flesh filling their nostrils.
Jasper stands to give a curt, sarcastic, applause–
From the dark behind Remi, something swings wide.
He can hear the crack of metal against bone ringing out, and a pipe gleams in the low light. Its owner; A man of stout and heavy stature, body draped in half-torn and bloodied rags.
There’s no time to even shout.
Remi’s eyes roll back, snarl dropping slack as his head bounces off the concrete. Bounces.
The floor under Jasper gives away, heart crashing to his stomach.
And Jasper can only register the manic, pulsing red veins in this man’s sclera before he drops down and huddles behind a car. Sangue. Rags. Thinning gray hair and a cut under the jaw– Facts reel through his mind’s eye at lightspeed. Is Remi dead? Red veins, nearly yellow eyes–
Recognition slaps all thought away, wiring him stiff. Because Jasper knows this guy.
“Fountain!” The cultist bellows, yellow teeth gnashing at the humid air, “Son of Sangue, I know you’re here! I heard you! I saw you!” He sways in place as he scans the emptied building with hardened, frantic, eyes.
His mind reels. Memories flood back to him, almost too fast to comprehend; A confidant of his parent’s, cruel, cultist, monster– Jasper bites his tongue. There’s phantom hands on his arms, tugging and clawing. Pathetic. Get up! Get up!
He can barely move. Despite the screaming in his skull, he is frozen in place, terror leaking into every bone.
Crimson pools under Remi’s cheek, weeping down from his hairline.
He forces his head to turn towards the open door leading to the stairway. It’d be a slow crawl, but he could make it without being detected. Go. Go. He can’t feel his fingers.
A groan emits from the floor. Jasper snaps back just in time to see the cultist driving his foot into Remi’s side, “Still alive?” He scowls, “Persistent bunch, you agents. Like flies. We all could’ve been fine if you had the ability to leave me alone!”
He watches him shake his head, pacing around the space.
He hefts the pipe over his shoulder, glaring down his nose at Remi, “You’ve done me a favor though, bringing me my fountain. So, I’ll do you a favor, huh? Fair is fair?.” His arms raise high. Just leave. Just run. Run fast, far– It doesn’t matter, who cares, it–
“I’ll try not to drag it out.”
A piece of rubble soars above the cultists head and clatters noisily against a support beam.
Jasper’s arm aches from the force of his swing.
“There he is!” The cultist cries out, spinning on his heel to pin Jasper with his odd, disjointed, stare. A smarmy grin splits his face in two, “The fountain himself! The drowned son of Nascimento– you’re a hard man to find!”
Suddenly, a cold, familiar, calm sweeps through Jasper like a storm. His muscles tense, jaw setting– For once, all his dread and adrenaline is purposeful. It’s been building up to this, to fight.
Jasper is made for this and was trained for it. Finally, he’s aligning both his body and mind and it gives him a peace– a stony dissolution– he hasn’t felt in ages. Even his name, Nascimento, bounces harmlessly off his guarded heart.
“Step away.” He says, lip curling. Blood boils through his limbs, twitching almost unconsciously. The cultist chuckles, pointing at him with the pipe;
“You’ve grown some balls now, haven’t you? Ordering me around!” He barks out a laugh, “Oh, fuck, I’ve missed seeing that shit get beat out of you.”
Flashes of memory berate him like stones to his skull.
“Tell me what you want.” He snaps. Jasper steps around the rubble, trembling with rage. Without thinking, he walks in front of Remi’s fallen form.
“What I want? What I want?!” The cultist muses, finally stepping away and spreading his arms, “You– You ruined everything! What I want is your fucking insides painting the walls!” His face contorts, turning red as he shrieks, “First the fountain, now this? Pathetic, destitute, child– You’re useless! Did you tell them about this place?”
Jasper’s hackles rise, hair raising on the back of his neck. His grip on his blade tightens, fingers going numb. Without a response, the man crumbles, rabbling on in maddening shouts;
“Useless, useless, useless!” He clutches at his face, feet scrabbling backwards.
The cultist reaches the other end of the outcropping, back bumping against a van, his fanged smile still wide through the peeks of his fingers and his veins popping, bulging, against his skin. He raises his pipe, roaring, “You’ve ruined me for the last time– I want to see the boy who slaughtered his family and make him beg for mercy again!”
Jasper leaps.
The two of them tumble hard against the concrete, pavement scraping up Jasper’s arms and tearing his shirt. His cheek hits a car bumper. Weapon. He yanks at the handle.
His knife pops free and Jasper slings his fingers through the holds just in time.
Pain lances through his back– The man slams the end of the pipe against his spine, shoving the length against his face and squishing it over his cheek and teeth. He manages to get a foot between them and shoves, sending Jasper stumbling away.
“Disappointing!”
Swing! Jasper just barely ducks the end of it, jumping to tackle his lower half once more. He can feel the butt-end of the pipe stabbing down against his skull, shoved hastily between the two of them to create space.
He raises his knife and plunges, shoving it deep into his hip. The cultist howls in pain, feet tangling in an instinctual attempt to run away.
His next swing hits iron, bouncing off the pipe and shoved away. Another firm kick hits his shoulder, then a swing collides with his ear before Jasper has any time to react.
His head rings like a church bell, vision dotting with blackspots. Everything’s rushing past him, he can barely hold tight to the present long enough to assure himself he’s in it.
Jasper drags the blade down and scores through the cultist’s clothes, cutting through skin, but nothing vital. He falls back.
“Is this the boy that killed the Nascimentos?” The cultist cackles, “Luck, then? Was it dumb fucking luck that your parents died?” A blow smacks him across the face. Jasper’s cheekbone splits, bright hot with pain.
Blood boils in his stomach. Jasper shouts, jumping back onto his feet and swinging. Jae. Think of Jae– He swings, stabs, swings– Feign left. He raises a hand and bears left, then slips the knife to the right to carve a blow across the front.
“Ambidextrous?” Jae notes with a curious lilt.
“I have two scythes, don’t I?”
His face is sprayed in a fount of hot blood, a diagonal cut digging deep into the cultist’s chest. It sends him reeling back, hand palming his front. A long, fiendish, tongue slips out to lap at the crimson splatter over his palm.
“Is that all?” He goads.
Sound roars in his ears, disruptive white noise that grows louder still like a rising storm. Jasper kicks, carving through the air with his blade.
“You think you can just walk away from us, Nascimento?” The cultist shouts, knocking his blow away, “From all of this? Change sides, get a clean slate? No– No–!”
“Shut up!” Jasper screams, grabbing the pipe and wrenching it aside. He rushes him, pinning the man against a hood. It creaks and whines under their combined weight. He rips the pipe away, tossing it aside.
Rapid, frantic, the cultist giggles; “You’re poisoned, boy, just like me! You can never wipe it clean, it runs in your veins, it’ll always–”
A kettle whistle screams in his head. The man jolts suddenly, mouth agape. It’s not until Jasper feels the blood cascading over his fingers that he realizes it’s his knife that’s buried into the cultist’s stomach.
And when he does, Jasper leans in and twists. The blade carves through his insides, sliding fat and muscle, intestine, churning it all into unidentifiable flesh. Jasper churns his insides into a slurry, digging in deeper and deeper until he can feel ribs protesting his blade.
A cut off cry turns guttural. Blood spatters over Jasper’s front, coughed out of punctured lungs. He sounds like he’s drowning.
Good. Jasper digs deeper.
He pulls out his blade and swings the handle hard across the man’s face.
The snap of his jaw shattering echoes off the walls. The cultist drops like a stone, and Jasper jumps onto him, grabbing the knife from the dirt and blood splattered covered pavement. His nerves feel alight with gasoline and lit matches. He raises him up and throws him down against the ground.
The man’s words become gurgling nonsense, thick with blood that spills out of each corner of his lip, cut through with wet singing laughter, “Drowned son of Sangue, Sangue, San–” Jasper drives his knife’s end into his mouth, severing his tongue in two. No more talking.
His knuckles bleach near-white with the force of his grip. He forces his blade up and out of the carnage, thrusting down over and over– Again and again. No more. No more. His blade plunges into the cavern he’s making of his nose.
Jasper’s whole hand can fit into his skull. His knuckles come back stringing viscous blood and gray matter and there’s only a quiet stillness in his mind like a violin dragging out it’s highest note at the end of a beautiful symphony. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.
He will ruin him. From the inside out. Tear out every vein he claims has Jasper’s twin and wipe it clean. He will dig until Jasper finds the difference between the bodies they share and only then will he rest. Tick. Tick. Tick.
Down and down, he carves through splitting fat and flesh. Everything blurs, Jasper sitting a million yards away from his own body.
He grabs bone and rips it out. His fingers go slippery and torn at the tips from shards of it cutting his skin. He did nothing– Nothing to save him. He hurt Jasper, he hurt Elisa, he ruined them. A rib cracks and snaps free and Jasper throws it aside. Useless.
Useless.
Touch burns an iron brand onto his shoulder and Jasper whips around, swiping in a wide arc.
Litanies of curses fill the air and Jasper lunges, blood clotting the inside of his nose, draining into his irises. His throat is raw as he shouts, barks, yells– Someone snags his wrists and disarms him with an easy squeeze, the tendons of his arm weak from throwing all his weight into each stab.
He pitches himself away from them. From all of it. Snaps and gnashes his teeth. Rolls his head around like a madman. His feet kick out at the ground, heels dragging through blood. Never surrender.
“Jasper– Jasper!”
His own voice attunes to his ears, “Get the fuck away from me! Don’t fucking touch her! Leave me alone! Leave me alone!” Jasper’s voice breaks on every second word, maybe every third. He rasps like he’s been screaming for hours. It’s so dark, how long has it been? His head hits the floor.
“It’s okay! It’s okay, Jasper, it’s okay! It’s me, Jasper, please–”
Hands squeeze around his pulse and he bucks away, eyes stinging.
“It’s me. It’s me,” A cool forehead presses to his own, nose bumping the arch of his glasses. Breath spills over his cheeks, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Jasper. It’s okay, I’m here. I’ve got you. You’re okay.”
Thoughts dart away from his fingers like minnows.
His chest convulses suddenly, sobs working up his throat, “Please.” He begs softly. Jasper’s not quite sure what he’s begging for. Maybe that the smell of honied vanilla and tangerine never disappears. It’s so much nicer than the thick coppery scent of blood.
Fuck, he’s scared. His hands won’t stop shaking.
“It’s me, okay? I’m right here. Breathe, Jasper. I’ve got you.” Maria’s voice floats through him like a dream. Tears stream down his face, curling down the sides of his head.
He’s laid flat on the ground, wrists pinned by his ears by Maria’s familiar grip. Numbness leaks away from his limbs, the ache of effort starting to pulse through him like a bruise. Jasper’s stomach heaves, confusion and panic swimming in his veins.
Jasper licks his dried lips. “Maria.” He coughs out.
He’s rewarded with a chaste kiss between his brows. “That’s right, querido. It’s me.” They’re a hazy form in his vision, an ephemeral image from a long-forgotten memory, “Take a deep breath.”
Without hesitation, he sucks in the cool, heavy, basement air. There’s so much blood.
A sharp prick pokes at his neck.
He flinches, breath ragged– Jasper can feel the cold fluid traveling down through his bloodstream, his head almost immediately going soupy and slow.
“I know, I know, I’m sorry,” Maria murmurs, leaning into the shell of his ear, “You did good, okay? You did really, really, good, Jasper. You’re just a bit overwhelmed, huh?” The needle is tucked back away, the pressure on his wrists lifting. More of it shifts back onto his hips and the first cognizant thought Jasper has is; Are they sitting on me?
Words get exchanged over his head. Jasper can’t catch much of it.
“Remi–”
“A concussion, for sure. I don’t have time right now, just get him in the truck!”
His heartbeat slows, the rushing sound in his ears falling to a rumble. Breathing comes easier. He swallows around a dry stone in his throat, casting his gaze about for the hazy form of Maria as the scent grows more distant.
Lightheaded, he uses his newfound freedom to grasp at the air. He whines, voiceless.
“Jasper? Is everything okay?”
His blood-stained fingers curl around a warm palm once more. Oh, god, there’s so much he wants to ask. To say. But he can’t even remember where he is, much less draw enough energy together to ask anything profound.
Jasper sniffles wetly.
Maria’s free-hand cards through his hair, “Shh, cutie. Take it easy. Just rest.” Then they raise their conjoined fingers to their lips and kiss his blood-soaked knuckles, “I’ve got you. Remi’s okay. You’re safe, you did it.”
Jasper’s heart skips a beat in his chest. He drowsily nods, letting his hooded eyes fall shut. What a strange idea.