Fifth Sin: Performance Past And Present (Pt. 4- Revelations)
--- Mercer ---
As he stood there holding the -not actually- smoking gun he couldn’t help but breathe as he came to terms with what he’d just done, how he’d shot the closest thing he’d had to a father in the face without hesitation.
His eyes drifted around the now empty street, as -now that no one was trying to kill him- he realized he’d also knowingly attacked and killed all of the Vigils.
And even if he knew that they weren’t really the Vigils that didn’t change the fact that he had… that he… that… “I one v six-ed the Vigils!!! I knew I was the biggest badass on the team! Suck it mother fuckers!!!”
He couldn’t help but laugh at that little revelation. “Oh, fuck… and I caught it all on camera too!”
Admittedly he was probably going to have to delete it since it showed him killing the Vigils, but he could at least show Julie and his sisters to really underline how badass he truly was. “Heh-haa, this made my year. All the pain, agony, psychological torture, all completely worth it.”
The mists around him seemed to take that as a challenge as all around him walls of white surged forward to drag them into the next of its little scenarios. “Heh, bring it on! I’ve been toying with you all night and there is no killing this high right now!”
As the mists faded he found himself inside of what appeared to be an old bank vault, the walls each covered in rows upon rows of small lock boxes. In front of him was the door to said vault, having -and he just knew it- been freshly sealed, with the rest of the vault behind him.
Without a trace of laughter to him, his heart pounded in his ears as he stared at the door, fully aware of what he’d find if he turned around and dreading it like nothing else.
(No… No. No. No… Not this… Not him.)
“Oh, you were just throwing out quips and laughter like it was nothing, but now that it’s just you and me you’ve gone all quiet?” A voice he never wanted to hear again asked.
His gun slipped from his numb fingers as that voice clawed at his mind, and brought forth a number of other voices. Ones that he knew came from his memory rather than anything the Mists were doing to him.
(Metal hit flesh, the twisted man in front of him laughing. “You can’t tell me you don’t want this to stop? We’ve been at this for three days now… you know all you have to say is three little words. No?” More metal hit the flesh of a boy in too much pain to say much of anything.)
(“Oh, I know you kids hate shots, but don’t worry this one has a special medicine that will… well it won’t make you feel better but it’ll definitely make me laugh to see whatever it does to you.” The psychopath told him before driving the syringe full of drugs into the boy.)
(“You think you can laugh at me? Me?! I am the only the one who laughs, you hear me?! I. AM. THE. ONE! WHO! LAUGHS!!!” The insane man screamed each word underlined and punctuated as he delivered more pain unto the boy who’d broken, if only in a way opposite of what the man wanted.)
All these memories and more bubbled up from the repressed depths of his mind as he undid the straps on his grapplers, the haunting whispers reminding him of the day that broke the kid he was and turned him into the man everyone knew as Mercer
“I just knew you were all talk.” The twisted man taunted. “I mean really, you’re the only Vigil so cowardly that you have to use guns rather than your fists or that stupid shield on ol’ blue boy. No wonder Vig kicked you out, I bet big daddy V-V os oh so disappointed in you!”
He didn’t say a word as he let gauntlets fall before removing his jacket.
Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.
“Just as disappointed as I am in my boys, I’m sure.” The psychopath sighed. “Oh, I always knew they were going to try and kill me, but this? This is their big play? You. Heh-ha, I knew those two were cowards… You can beat a lot of things out of people but that, that ain’t one of them. Might have to kill them and get a new set of kids, maybe a couple of girls this time?”
His jacket fell to the ground as he silently moved onto his shirt.
“You know what, I don’t even have to make them this time!” The insane man laughed. “Old V-V has proven you can pull any two bit orphan off the streets and do something with them, even after getting one killed! I mean seriously, he’s got a third dumbass in those red tights even after I murdered the second one! Fuck, you think it’s the same”
He spun on his heels and saw a face he could’ve happily gone the rest of his life without ever seeing again.
The dark haired man was what many people would consider ‘handsome’ with bright blue eyes and a clean shaven face that many a model would dream of. He wore a fitted white suit without a speck of dirt on it, as if the very idea of the man being ‘dirty’ was universally objected upon.
By contrast, Mercer was a scarred mess that would make most people flinch upon seeing him whether they meant it or not.
Honestly, he couldn’t be more proud of the contrast.
“Oh, that got your attention? You care about the little baby Virtue? Or, given how you stripped, is it me you want? Look I appreciate the sentiment but I’m not into men so you can take your stripagram and shove it.” The (monster) told him, before rolling up his sleeves. “I mean, sure I’ve broken more than one woman with my looks and I’ll still break you because that’s what I do, but you’re clearly making this sexual when it’s never been that. I mean it is pleasurable for me, don’t get me wrong, just not that way and-” The (abomination) rolled his eyes. “Eh, fuck it I’ll just stitch a shirt onto you or something later so you can’t pull this weird shit again.”
The (demon) pulled out a switchblade before rolling his shoulders and assuming a stance. “Now back on topic, I’ve got to wonder if daddy V-V will even be surprised that you were the Vigil to break? I mean, he already kicked you out for being a killer and that’s only half of what you need to be broken. The other half just needs you to bleed a bit!”
With a laugh the (nightmare) lunged forward, rushing his unarmed opponent with the knife.
Mercer didn’t bother dodging, in fact he stepped into the slash making sure that it would catch and stick into his flesh rather than being drawn for another strike.
“Oh, that’s different…” The (devil) blinked, before Mercer grabbed him by the throat and slammed him onto the ground.
He sat on the (corpse) completely uncaring of the blows being laid upon him as the (dead man) struggled against him, having felt far worse by those same hands that hit him now.
Before they broke him, now they did nothing to stop him as he pulled his fist back and slammed it into the thing’s face, not once or twice, or even thrice, but dozens upon dozens of times. His blows continued even as his knuckles split open, even as the (still breathing corpse) quit moving, and when that hand could no longer punch he simply switched hands until that one was in just as brutal a shape.
He had no idea how long he continued like this, switching between bloody hand and bloody hand as he let out every ounce of rage and fear that had consumed him since the moment he heard that horrible, nightmarish, voice. The one that would echo in the background of his every thought so long as its owner drew breath.
And so he continued punching the man’s face, long after it could be considered as such, and far beyond the point where the dead man had drawn breath, its body slowly dissolving into mist but still held together not by the Madness of the Mists but by the Madness of Mercer instead.
For hours he continued on like this, until whatever eldritch force made up the Mists simply ceased to exist.
And so sitting there in the bank vault that was slowly dissolving into a theater room, with his knuckles bloody, his hands damn near unusable, he simply leaned back and listened to the world around him.
There was no taunting laugh.
There was no metal hitting flesh.
There was no whispering darkness.
There was only silence.
And much like he had several years prior, he realized he didn’t give a fuck what Vigilance thought, if killing someone could bring even one victim something like this than he’d murderer ever monster in the Way without an ounce of guilt, because this. This silence. (It’s divine…)