PSL - NSFW, approach with caution

[primordialice]

- If you're looking to make an appointment to speak with the Administrator, please speak with Ms. Marette at the front desk.
- If you're looking to schedule a boxing match with the Administrator, please speak with Mr. Roussimoff in the Pankration Ring.
- If you have a really, really urgent matter that desperately needs the Administrator's attention right now, please find a senior guard and relay your information to them.
- If you have a new tea variety you'd like the Administrator to try, please leave it with Ms. Marette at the front desk or knock to the rhythm of the first movement of Furina's Benevolence and he will be with you shortly.

All other matters are first come, first served.

Comments

A few days after Scar is sentenced to Meropide

[theblacklamb]

It isn’t long after Scar is sentenced to Meropide that he’s called before the Warden, ostensibly for bad behavior (picking fights with the other inmates). The actual reason, though… well, Mezzetino is perfectly capable of recognizing Brighella, even if he looks a few decades older. He moves exactly the same.

So he has no compunctions about draping himself insouciantly on the man’s desk and grinning up at him. “So eager to see me, dear Brighella? I was beginning to think you might not notice my presence!” He is, after all, only the Eleventh Harbinger, a rank below the Warden of Meropide. Which is all the more reason he wants to get the man to fight him properly.

[primordialice]

"You've been making yourself hard to miss, Mezzetino." Wriothesley leans back in his chair and crosses his arms, looking his junior over. Having one of his fellow Harbingers in his prison is... annoying. Having it be Scar, by far the least discreet and most impulsive member of their ranks is an active security risk. Unfortunately, Brighella is fairly certain making Mezzetino disappear into the depths of Meropide will get him censured by the Tsaritsa and Pierro, a punishment he'd rather avoid. "Don't tell me you've just been vying for my attention? I thought you'd have more self-respect than that."

[theblacklamb]

Scar gives him a faintly absurd but completely earnest doe-eyed pout. “I was beginning to think you weren’t going to acknowledge me at all! Aren’t we brothers in arms? And I was bored,” he adds, as an afterthought.

Self-respect is for boring people. “I’ll stop fighting the other inmates for twenty-four hours if you spar with me,” he offers.

[primordialice]

Brighella barely manages to avoid rolling his eyes when Scar starts trying to be cute. The fact that he is cute doesn't help matters. It just makes it more irritating. "Here in Meropide I'm primarily the Warden, Mezzetino. Socializing with a Fatui Harbinger could make people wonder where my true loyalties lie."

He knows that sneaky little head nurse is always reporting to the Iudex, after all. He checks her letters before they leave the Fortress to make sure nothing too incriminating is included - he's excellent at forging her cutesy handwriting - but still. He'd rather not go to the trouble of doing too much editing.

"Twenty-four hours?" He scoffs. "Don't be ridiculous. Give me a week of good behaviour and I'll spar with you."

[theblacklamb]

“So socialize secretly. You’re a Harbinger, surely you have things in place for covert activities. Or do you think there’s someone more interesting than you here for me to befriend?” Quite a joke, the thought that anyone here might be more interesting than the Tenth Harbinger.

“Two days,” Scar counters immediately, eyes alight. If Brighella is negotiating, that means he’s willing.

[primordialice]

"I doubt there's anyone you'd find that interesting, though if you want to make the attempt with Nurse Sigewinne I'd love to watch you try." As sweet and friendly as the heard nurse is, Wriothesley is quite aware she has a sharp intelligence and surprising skills at manipulation. "Why this sudden interest in socializing with me? I was never your favourite person before." They've never been at odds with each other the way some of the Harbingers are, but they've never been close. "If you tell me it's just because there's no one else around, you'll hurt my feelings, Mezzo."

"Hmmm..." He does not want to get locked into sparring with Mezzetino every two days and he knows if he does it once, Mezzetino will probably expect it thereafter. He could probably use the stress relief, but he has actual work to do. "A week, but it's not just sparring in the Pankration Ring. I'll take you to my training ground where we can have a real match."

[theblacklamb]

Scar wrinkles his nose. “She’s much too goody two shoes and dedicated to the living. But you—you’re interesting, Brigi. You’re in your element here, and it shows you off in a way you aren't elsewhere.” He gives him a sly look. “And you’re so stern and commanding…”

"A week, a real match, but if someone challenges me I can accept." He's sure he can goad someone into it. And he doesn't want to go entire weeks without fighting at all.

[primordialice]

"You mean I don't look like a teenager." Wriothesley looks slightly amused. He never bothers to shift into something more mature-looking when he's playing the Harbinger - it helps keep some separation between his roles, and encourages people to underestimate him, which he enjoys. "But I'll take that as a compliment, I suppose."

He strokes his chin, considering it, then shrugs. "Fine. And if you want to fight in the Pankration during your off-hours, I won't stop you - just don't kill anyone. A few more broken bones will help keep Sigewinne busy."

[theblacklamb]

Scar shrugs shamelessly. "That certainly helps, but not just that. You're in charge here, the last word. And everyone knows it."

He grins. "Deal. When can we go?"

The next day, cafeteria

[theblacklamb]

Scar wants to know what extra credit means. So he watches for bullies, and it isn’t long before he finds one, a sad little man laughing while he steals the meal of a young inmate who looks gaunt and near tears.

It’s only a moment to be behind him, the tray out of his hands and back on the table, and then Scar is shoving him in the chest, a challenge and a redirection. “Pathetic. Can you only feel big kicking around people smaller than you? Afraid of anything that can fight back?”

The man’s face goes dark and ugly with rage, and he forgets his original target entirely, stepping up into Scar’s space. “You think you can fight back, odd-eyed freak?”

“Marcus, stop,” someone hisses from the sidelines. “He’s fucking Fatui, don’t provoke him.”

The man apparently named Marcus scoffs. “Like the Fatui hang out in Meropide protecting weaklings? He’s just a man.”

“Doesn’t Lord Mezzetino have eyes like that?” Someone else whispers too loudly. “I think that’s a fucking Lord Harbinger?”

“Mezzetino can fucking teleport, he wouldn’t be in prison,” Marcus snaps.

“Not quite teleport,” Scar says, a smoldering card appearing between his fingers. “But you’re right, I could portal out of here any time I pleased.” He flicks the card, and it grows rapidly into a portal, which he lunges through, coming out behind Marcus to shove him hard, sending him to the ground on his knees. “Why, are you scared when someone is stronger than you?”

Marcus scrambles backwards, fear leaking onto his face. How very boring. “What do you want?!”

Scar leers at him anyway. “Warden said bullies were free game. And guess what I found?” He kicks the man in the ribs just to punctuate it, even if all the fun went out of the potential fight when the man’s bravado did.

[primordialice]

Given that the cafeteria is very nearly outside Wriothesley's office, it doesn't take long for someone to scramble over and fetch him when the confrontation between Marcus and Scar begins. The guards arrive slightly faster than he does, but hang back, obviously hesitant to interrupt a fight involving a Fatui Harbinger. Wriothesley, however, has no such concerns, strolling between the tables with a casual look at the situation.

"Mr. Marcus, Mr. Mezzetino, please stand down. I believe the rules are quite clear about fighting, but especially not in the cafeteria. You'll disturb the other diners." He looks around at everyone watching, narrowing his eyes at someone quickly tucking away a book behind their back. "They're also quite clear about betting on fights outside the Pankration Ring, Mr. Baudelaire. Would you be so kind as to explain what's going on?"

Baudelaire chuckles nervously, tugging at his collar. "I - I wasn't running book, Your Grace, I just thought - hypothetically -" He pauses as Wriothesley's eyes narrow again. "I mean, Marcus was, uh, hassling Thomas there, pretending he was gonna take his dinner, and Lord Mezzetino stepped in to set him straight. No harm done, right, Your Grace? Everyone off with a warning?"

"Thank you, Mr. Baudelaire." He eyes Marcus with disfavour. "I believe the guards have spoken with you about "hassling" other inmates, Mr. Marcus. Unfortunately, it seems like you're a little slow to learn your lessons. I'd allow Mr. Mezzetino to continue teaching you, but I'd hate to waste his time. One night in solitary for interfering with a Welfare Meal, and one month doing additional shifts in the laundry. That should get rid of all that energy you seem to need to work off." He motions to one of the guards, who quickly steps forward to haul Marcus up.

With that disposed of, he turns to Scar. "Mr. Mezzetino, I'm sorry you felt the need to step in like that. Why don't you come to my office so we can discuss the restrictions on fighting again?" There's a glint in his eyes, though his face stays straight. "This way, if you please."

Before Scar can leave, the young man he stepped in to help, Thomas, plucks at his sleeve nervously. "Um, Lord Mezzetino - thank you! Thank you so much." He sat back down quickly, staring at his meal but taking shy glances at Scar.

[theblacklamb]

"Of course, Your Grace." Scar watches the glint in Brighella's eyes. He's being good. And reinforcing Wriothesley's authority over the prison, over even a Harbinger, is good, right? It's even good for the Harbingers, probably. For Brighella's cover.

He's taken aback by the victim he'd nearly forgotten about thanking him. People don't thank him. What do you even do if someone thanks you? "You're welcome," he hazards, ruffling the young man's hair vaguely. It's probably good for Fatui recruitment or something.

He follows Brighella back to his office with bated breath and without a backward glance. Extra credit for bullies. He can't wait to find out what that means.

[primordialice]

"I think you've made a fan," Wriothesley notes with amusement as they head across the walkway to the administrative office. He drops the bar behind him, making sure nobody will be able to enter without his permission. He definitely doesn't want to be interrupted.

"Now, what was all that about? Were you just looking for some action, or were you trying to earn some extra credit with me?" He hooks his fingers in Scar's collar, pulling him in close.

[theblacklamb]

Scar lets himself be pulled in, grinning crookedly at Brighella, eyes alight. "You told me it was extra credit for bullies, Your Grace. I found one." The emphasis isn't mocking, this time--more like he's tasting the words. "What does extra credit get me?"

[primordialice]

"I suppose my appreciation isn't enough?" He grins teasingly. "Come on upstairs, I have something you'll like." He leans in and gives his lip a bite rather than a kiss before pulling away to head up the spiral staircase to the large room that houses his desk and files.

Wriothesley nods towards the box on the desk. "Take a look." Inside there's a set of chains, collar, and cuffs, similar to the primordial ice chains he'd put Scar in last night except made out of polished black metal and including chains, cuffs, and a spreader bar for the ankles.

[theblacklamb]

"You didn't say appreciation." Scar runs his tongue over his bitten lip and follows. He looks into the box and his breath catches, his eyes darkening. Those would be... much harder for him to melt his way out of. He would be more genuinely helpless, not just choosing to let Brighella keep him chained.

He looks back up at Brighella, his eyes dark, and licks his lips. "Going to chain me up again, Lord Brighella?" His voice is lower, rougher.

[primordialice]

"When you look so pretty in a collar it seems like a shame to pass up the chance." He slides his hand around Scar's throat, giving it a squeeze and a shake, halfway between rough and affectionate. "Clothes off first. I don't want you making a mess."

He doesn't want Scar walking out of his office looking like he came in his pants, that's for sure. He has explanations for increased dealing with the Harbinger, but that would be a little beyond explanation.

Tomorrow night

[theblacklamb]

As soon as the lights go down, Scar steps through a portal into Brighella's office. "Two days. Have I been good, Lord Brighella?"

[primordialice]

"The foreman complimented your work today. I was impressed." He reaches out to squeeze the back of Scar's neck. "You've been good, and I've found us somewhere to train, come on." He leads the way back to the same elevator they used two days ago, but this time they go all the way down, into the abandoned production zone. There's a series of mechanisms he has to open, but it doesn't take too much time to head into an even less accessible area.

"I found an old Arkhium processing area. The radiation is still too strong for anyone without a Vision to go into, but we should be fine." It feels like a light buzz on his skin, which he doesn't mind at all. The room is filled with old machines and abandoned parts - a much more interesting battleground.

[theblacklamb]

Scar looks around, admiring the terrain. Things to throw, things to break. Cover, if one cared about that, which he doesn't. Hiding is boring.

“Any rules this time?” He wants blood, violence, needs it like an itch under the skin. His fingers are claws and his eyes yellow already. He’s going to take a bigger bite of Brighella this time. He wonders if the other man would let him string a necklace with his fingers.

[primordialice]

"If I was a... more normal person, you'd have one major advantage against me in your beast form. And it works to an extent even against me. Last time, when you were trying to move me five steps, there was an easy way you could have done it. Can you guess what it is?" He crosses his arms, waiting for Scar's response. He knows he's not going to love a surprise quiz, but he needs to learn.

[theblacklamb]

“Could have just picked you up and moved you,” Scar admits grudgingly. It would have been boring, but he could have. It may be slightly embarrassing that he didn’t think to until the last, but attacking Brighella was much more interesting. He had still just been thinking about wanting to fight him, make him fight back, not the terms he had set.

[primordialice]

"Exactly. You're going to be larger and stronger than your opponents nearly every time. Use that size. Throw me into things, pick me up, grab me and tear me apart... there's more to fighting than stabbing and punching. It might even be fun." He knows Scar loves the rush of close-quarters combat, but he needs to learn to use his size more efficiently.

[theblacklamb]

“Is that an invitation?” Scar’s voice distorts for a moment, his second set of eyes forming and his horns spiralling out. He does so dearly want to rip Brighella to pieces.

[primordialice]

"Show me what you've got." Wriothesley wants him to rip into him, tear him apart, do his worst. He's looking forward to it, a lot more than he would have expected to two days ago.