Fandom: Bomberman.
Pairing: Zoniha/Regulus.
Summary: Plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose...
Rating: PG-13 for language, mostly from Zoniha. Though Reg has his moments where you'll have to pardon his French. Hur hur. Also, violence!
Notes: A second title from a foreign language
Takes place at some vague point after Ankoku Tengoku. I really just wanted to get inside Regulus' mind for a bit. Only for a bit, though, because the man is skeery. No real plot here, just Reg and Zo, talking...talking...and talking...
I stared down at Zoniha on the sofa, who lay there vapidly like a dead fish. Her legs were propped up on one of the arms of the sofa, just under her knees. The back of one of her hands was pressed to her forehead; the other dangled off the edge of the seat. I had returned home only moments before, and I did not like this surprise at all. "You do not mean to tell me that a simple flu has incapacitated you," I said. "Not when your self-healing abilities are higher than even those of the other knights."
"Fuck you," she murmured through barely-moving chapped lips. Her words were almost unintelligible, running together like powdered colors in water. She let out a cough. "It's nothing bad...be up within the hour...just need water and sleep but otherwise..."
I sighed, and took her hand off her forehead to check for fever. I got, instead, something fairly close to the frigidity of death. Something else tingled at the edges of my aura when I touched her, as well. It was not pleasant and it had the touch of the demonic. "You encountered a Deathmouth today," I said, frowning.
Zoniha groaned. "Son-of-a-bitch got m-me two blocks from here...about an hour ago, maybe. Two hours? Can't remember. Was...disguised as a kid that...that had gotten hurt. Went over to help...and then...yeah. Not really fun. Couldn't even beat the fucker to d-death. Still out there."
Deathmouths were the current otherworldly threat that the Angel of Light and Shadow had set the Elemental Knights to clean up. (I did not understand why the Angel, for all Her power, did not directly involve Herself to resolve this issue, and instead let us - Mihaele's Knights, technically, but now Hers - handle the worst of it. More than once the thought has occurred to me that the Angel runs the universe like an organized crime ring, though certainly She does not run it in a way that I find effective.) They were creatures under the power and guidance of the archdemon Abraxion, whom Seer's Sun had recently summoned in an absurd, foolish attempt to help Madrulla of the Basilisk Cross expand his holdings in Cerbera, as well as on all of Thantos. Deathmouths prey on life energy, though they will take flesh once the life energy is depleted, and like to lure their victims by taking the guise of something that will appeal to the intended victim's sympathies -
I suddenly drew back from Zoniha.
She coughed again before giving me her usual smirk. "You think I'm a Deathmouth in disguise."
"You cannot blame me," I said.
A raspy sigh. "Right. Let's do the...the usual 'ask a question' shtick. Ask me...about something that...that only I would know about you."
"There'll be no need for such things." I extended my shadow aura out to Zoniha a bit. A shiver prickled my skin as her light aura rose up and resonated with mine. "I do not believe Deathmouths have the ability to replicate auras, so unless I've not been informed of something, you are the Zoniha I know." A pause. "In a manner of speaking, since the Zoniha I know does not lie around on couches looking for all the world like a swooning maiden."
"You damn prick," she swore breathily. "Don't have to p-put up with...your shit when I'm...wh-when I'm..." Her head lolled a bit, and her other arm fell to her chest. Her eyes closed.
Merde. The Deathmouth must have struck her harder than I had originally thought, if she was starting to black out. "Stay awake," I ordered her.
Of course she fell unconscious. Zoniha does what Zoniha wants, after all.
I growled silently. I put a hand to Zoniha's shoulder and shook her violently, and called her name a number of times, though I could not find it in myself even now to strike her into wakefulness, into life. She still breathed, but for how much longer, I didn't know. Even in those that escape, the Deathmouths can leave their poisonous mark, which were the demonic traces that I sensed when I touched her. One had marked her now. It would search her out again to feed.
Well and so. Zoniha would not be alone this time. What a surprise that would be for the unfortunate salaud.
I went to the kitchen to prepare something for her when she woke up. She had wanted water, and would need something to eat as well. On the table were two blueberry muffins left over from an earlier meal, so I took those and the glass of water I had poured from the tap to the coffee table in the living room. I set them down before taking a seat on the sofa close to Zoniha.
There was nothing I could see to do at this point except wait. I, and the rest of the knights, lacked the knowledge for aiding victims that didn't require the talents of the Purifying Light. We had not rescued many people; the Deathmouths simply surfaced too quickly, too erratically, and in too many places for us to be there in time even by teleportation. It was more practical to strike at the heart of things. Where and what that heart was, exactly, we did not yet know. Abraxion was hiding himself well, and growing stronger at every moment. I knew because I could feel it. The thing of demons, a thing usually called "evil" but encompassing far more than that four-letter word, and the neutral shadows are separated only by a fine line. The ever-pervading presence of Abraxion strained that line to the limit in my mind, alternately accepting and rejecting me. For this reason, the Angel had insisted - with great earnestness - that I stay close to Zoniha, that I could draw on her element to counteract Abraxion's influence. As if I had no other reason to stay close. I would not have the second-in-command of the Obsidian Phoenix killed because I hadn't been watching her closely enough.
I glanced at Zoniha, still asleep. I noticed that she was glowing softly as though from within, and recognized it from when she used her healing spells. Indeed, the spell glyphs were hovering about her like fireflies. Faint, but there nonetheless. That was good. That meant she was still fighting. Of course she was. I'd expect no less from her.
I took her left hand in my own, letting the warmth of her powers seep into me a little. The Angel spoke truth: the light element did lessen the force of Abraxion's potential hold over me, though it bothered me that I should have to seek help thusly. My thumb ran over the silver band on the fourth finger of Zoniha's hand: the ring I'd given her not long after our civil marriage. I did not know why she felt the need to ask for such a small thing, but there it was. It prevented her from walking around with a thundercloud over her head. That was reason enough for me to do it. She also seemed pleased by the fact that I wore the other ring on a chain, though no one else besides the two of us knew it was there. Perhaps that was why it pleased her. Even after ninety years of knowing Zoniha, I don't claim to know what goes on inside her head. I merely conjecture and watch the threads spin out.
Minutes passed. Zoniha continued to glow, to heal. I continued to watch and wait, her hand still in mine. Her fingers curled, one by one, and I realized that I was holding a little too tightly, so I loosened my grip.
Then something knocked on my mind's door. I recognized Baelfael's aura on the telepathy network. What is it? I asked.
Zoniha isn't answering her door. There was a note of panic in Baelfael's voice.
She was attacked by a Deathmouth. She has passed out, but is somehow healing herself, as far as I can tell.
Baelfael was clearly dismayed. That was quite a lucky shot the Deathmouths made. Or perhaps not, but it'll do no good to speculate at this point. How long will it take for Zoniha to recover?
Zoniha whimpered gently. I regarded her for a moment, and when I was satisfied that she did not need any intervention, I answered. Why do you ask?
Bem was attacked as well, a few minutes ago. Though he'll be fine for a while, since it's essentially a surface wound. And his stubbornness will pull him through if his condition worsens.
Zoniha will be fine. I'll inform her to visit you once she wakes up. It doesn't seem to be a wise idea to disturb her at this point.
Of course.
I suddenly noticed a mild wave of amusement emanating from Baelfael's direction. What is it, Crimson Flame? I demanded.
A soft laugh. Nothing, Baelfael said. Things change in interesting ways, that's all.
I was unable to tell if he was mocking me, but even if he were there were more important things to address. As you say. I closed the door, a quick and forceful snap. I admit that I took satisfaction in that.
Zoniha suddenly cried out again. Her body trembled. The healing glyphs around her shattered, and the pale glow of her elemental aura exploded into a prickly sunburst that practically blinded me. She had gone from recovery mode to offensive mode. Within five seconds, I knew why.
I shifted into knight form and threw up a wall of darkness that caught most of the glass shards from the floor-length window as it exploded.
As the air cleared, I caught sight of the Deathmouth hovering just outside where the window had been. It truly was a hideous thing, about eight feet tall and colored like an angry bruise. Its body was its mouth, yawning wide with a cavern of large teeth and a squirming black tongue. Inside, there were two pairs of yellow eyes flanking its uvula, or what I assumed would be the equivalent of such in a Deathmouth. Its spindly arms and legs, covered in painful boils, dangled from its body like unwashed hair.
"Heeeeerrrrrr..." it growled, twitching a sharp fingernail in Zoniha's direction. "Miiiiinnnnneeeee."
"Va voir ta mère," I scowled. I flung two fire bombs at it, the explosions shoving the Deathmouth away from the window. I sprinted up to the window, tossed another bomb, and then took off into the afternoon sky, engaging in airborne battle.
The Deathmouth roared, and from deep within its throat hurled out a black glob of pulsating demonic matter. I infused a bomb with shadows and tossed it so that it directly intercepted the attack, engulfing the glob in a miniature black hole. I timed and aimed my subsequent throws just as carefully, and watched the power levels of the explosives, for it would not do to be sent bills for excessive collateral damage when the finances of the Phoenix were less than reliable at this point. I did not dare use my element directly against the Deathmouth. I'd found out at an earlier altercation that my powers only strengthened and replenished its abilities. This irritated me to no end. But things are as they are.
Eventually, with great frustration, I lured the Deathmouth to the roof of the condominium building. I had not gained much ground against it. The Deathmouth moved faster than one would think for something of its build, and though the bomb fire scorched its skin with sickening hisses, it quickly regenerated. Any attempt at landing a hit inside the mouth was swatted away by a long black tongue or another projectile of demonic matter.
I alighted on the chainlink fence intended to prevent rooftop visitors from accidentally falling to their deaths, keeping my eye on the Deathmouth as it landed awkwardly on the concrete roof itself. My patience was starting to wear thin at having to take so long with what was clearly an underling. I cursed my element...perhaps the first time I had ever done so in my life. Were it not for that, this thing would have been dust the moment it appeared.
The Deathmouth attacked again. It unfurled its long black tongue out at me, signaling an intent to feed. I flipped into the air and flung three bombs at the Deathmouth itself. It stumbled back from the blasts. I hit the ground running, preparing to rush it with another barrage of explosives.
Mistake. The Deathmouth's tongue thrashed towards me and knocked me aside, sending me skidding across the roof and into the side of a dumpster. My body prickled where the tongue had made contact: the Deathmouth had managed to drain my life energy. Only a taste, not enough to seriously hinder me or to mark me as prey for its comrades, but nevertheless it was annoying - more annoying than it should have been for me. I picked myself up and tried to formulate a way to maneuver the Deathmouth into a vulnerable position. I noticed that it stood not far from the plexiglass roof that sheltered the top-level indoor garden. It was possible, perhaps, that I could get it onto there, and then shatter the glass beneath its feet -
A burst of light exploded from somewhere in the periphery of my vision. I heard a voice that I knew all too well.
"Hey, shitcakes!" Zoniha called, a wheeze undermining the bite of her words. She stood on the opposite side from me, in knight form. She was standing...but only just. "You w-want a...a piece of this?" She held up a shaky fist swirling with colors.
"Bouffon!" I shouted, forgetting to switch languages in the heat of the moment. "Qu'est-ce que tu - "
"Miiiiinnneee!" the Deathmouth roared, and it charged for her.
I teleported behind Zoniha, picked her up, and jumped out of the way just as the Deathmouth's tongue shot to where she had been. I stopped to throw a few bombs to distract it before running for cover with Zoniha in my arms.
"Get b-back there, damn you!" she demanded. "I'm going t-to rip that piece of shit to sh-shreds!"
"Ècrase!" I snapped. Zoniha stared at me with wide eyes, shocked and confused. I ducked behind another dumpster and pressed my back against it before speaking again, this time in a way that Zoniha would actually understand. "What are you doing here? You're not even at full strength yet!"
"I w-was...good enough to...to get up here." Her hands shook as they clutched onto my shirt.
"You can barely stand!"
She gave me that lazy, sly half-smile of hers. "Then why don't you hold me?" she suggested.
"What are you talking about?"
An unholy breed of a roar and a shriek shook the area. I sprinted over to a shed and hid behind that, leaving more bombs in my wake as I did so.
"I c-can take him out in...one shot with...with Supernova," Zoniha continued, breathing hard. "But not if...if I have to f-focus my energy on...just standing."
I growled. "You are a fool, through and through. You should have left this to me."
Even when weakened and sickly, Zoniha could still laugh like a scornful queen. "You? Y-you're a fucking all-you-can-eat buffet for th-these guys! Just...just let m-me do this, 'kay?" She swallowed and let out a breath. "Yeah, it's g-gonna drain me, but...I'll still have enough juice left...left over to recover afterwards."
The implication that I had become a liability stung me more than I would've wished. The fact that it was true stung even more. And the fact that a half-drained Zoniha would have to fight in my place, when I was at full strength, left the sourest of tastes in my mouth. But I knew better than to dwell on any of this in the middle of a fight. When you are in battle, your entire focus must be on defeating your opponent. Until then, nothing else matters.
So it was that I walked out into the open in full sight of the Deathmouth, with Zoniha in tow. I set her down on her feet, but stood directly behind her, letting her lean back against me as she gathered the necessary power for her attack. The air around us spun and churned as she drew upon her full potential as an Elemental Knight, hands thrust out and glowing.
The Deathmouth turned and saw us. But too late, for Zoniha had already trapped the creature within a swirling sphere of light. Even now it was starting to disintegrate, its skin peeling off like bark from a tree to reveal the muscles and veins underneath. One of its yellow eyes within its mouth erupted into a fountain of crimson blood, and it cried out in pain.
With one final word, Zoniha sealed its fate. "Supernova!" And she snapped her arms out to her sides.
The backlash from that ultimate burst of power sent the both of us skidding backwards on the concrete, though I kept my balance. The sphere of light that surrounded the Deathmouth expanded and swelled before imploding, taking the creature with it and leaving naught to show but a few stray tendrils of light. For a moment, all was still and quiet.
Zoniha threw her head back and laughed again. "That's right," she whispered, drawing out the last word. "Go and stay dead, bitch." She collapsed against me.
I caught her as she fell, wrapping my arms around her waist. "A fool, through and through," I repeated softly. I did not know if I was talking about her or myself.
B-O-M-B
I teleported Zoniha back into my living room. I carefully laid her down on the couch, then went to get another cushion for her to rest her head upon.
"Hey," she rasped as I turned my back. "G-get me that water, will you?"
It would have been a bad idea to have her drink while reclined, so I helped her sit up before handing the glass of now-lukewarm water to her. I sat down next to her as she drank greedily. When she finished, she set the glass down on the table with a heavy clink and leaned against me, resting her head on my shoulder as she tried to catch her breath. She was clearly exhausted, so I didn't complain. Not that I would have complained in any case, I don't think.
"You should have stayed here," I said again. "I would have eventually killed it."
Zoniha snorted. "Told you, it's...no big deal. Give me an hour or two and I'll be back in perfect condition." She kissed the side of my neck. "Anyway...wanted to finish off that bastard myself. Nobody catches this Zoniha off guard and gets away with it."
I exhaled and stared at a spot on the wall across from me. Briefly, I thought over the possibility of voicing my frustrations to her: what it was like having your greatest strength turned into your greatest weakness, what it was like to have an invalid take your place on the battlefield as a result of that. What it was like to be on the verge of losing control of yourself to evil.
I do not consider myself to necessarily be on the side of "good". That is not where my objection to the latter comes from. But being a slave to pure destruction is just as bad - if not worse - than being a slave to arbitrary ideas of "justice". Being a person of interest to demons is no new role for me. It had happened before when the demon king himself, Sthertoth, broke out of the prison Mihaele had trapped him in. But I had managed to convince him that I was one of his own. I had not yet done so with Abraxion, and so he pursued me, eager to make me one of his generals. But I am the master of my fate; I am the captain of my soul. No one will control me, if I can help it. No one has any right to claim me as their own.
(Except, perhaps, the woman next to me. But only because Zoniha will do what Zoniha wants. And certainly I have no right to control her or to claim her. The civil marriage notwithstanding.)
I should not occupy myself too much with this, I thought. It will only open me up for greater weakness against Abraxion and the Deathmouths. I did not ask to be a reincarnation of Mihaele's Prince of Shadows, but I am, and I have adapted to its trappings well. It seems that this is only another part of myself that I must adapt to, as irksome as it is. My energy must be focused on dealing with that.
This did nothing to remove the deep-seated irritation from my mind.
"Got any idea who the hell was pounding on my door when I was sleeping?" Zoniha mumbled.
"Baelfael. It seems Behemos was attacked by a Deathmouth as well, though I'm given to understand that his wounds were much less serious than yours. He will survive until you recover enough to fully heal him."
"I'm sure if you get a couple of beers in him, he'll be just fine. In fact, he's probably doing that right now." She groaned and winced. "Damn, but my head is fucking killing me here. Got any aspirin lying around?"
I got up and went to the kitchen. I returned with two tiny white capsules, which Zoniha took with the rest of her water before resting on me again.
"I think we're going to need to invest in a warehouse full of aspirin, depending on how long this thing with Abraxion drags out," she muttered. "Not even my powers can deal with the headache from hell. Bleeding holes in the gut? Sure. Casting out the darkest of demonic energy? Bring it on. But a headache? Forget it. Way too convenient."
A corner of my mouth twitched up. "Being an Elemental Knight was never a matter of convenience."
"I'll say. Being the only one of us who can heal Deathmouth victims is a pain in the ass. Though it kind of makes me feel like a superheroine. Like that one blonde chick with the crazy short sailor outfit and her plastic wand that she can't do anything with until everyone else puts in their elemental shtick. Hang on, maybe that's not a good one to compare myself to, since she was a huge klutz too..."
I had no idea what Zoniha was talking about, but I felt annoyed at being reminded again at how useless I was quickly becoming in this fight against Abraxion. I must have let something of my thoughts show on my face, for Zoniha then said, "You're brooding again. It's a sexy look for you, I have to admit, but make an effort every three centuries or so to not always look like you're ready to kill someone at a moment's notice, will you?"
I frowned at her. "I do not enjoy being a liability," I said.
Zoniha was silent a moment. "Is Abraxion really bothering you that much?"
He invaded my dreams every other night, a shadowy unknowable being against whom I could do nothing except listen, listen and be tempted by his offers. His voice resonated within me like the ring of a death bell every time I called on my element. His essence, crawling all over Cerbera like poisonous vines, tried to ensnare me at every possible chance. "He is not the issue," I said. "I am speaking more practically. Namely, that my element has become quite useless in battle against the Deathmouths."
"Oh. Of course." She laughed. "A man's never happy when the spotlight is taken away from him."
"That is not the issue either - "
"It'll be fine!" she reassured me cheerily. "This Zoniha will save you from the bad guys! Even Prince Charming needs to be saved every now and again!" Her hand rested gently on my leg. "Anyway...just because you're not needed doesn't mean you're not wanted."
Such a typical Zoniha remark, really. Insult buried in goodwill...or goodwill buried in insult.
And yet I felt calmer now. My qualms from earlier had faded upon hearing her words. What did that say about me, about my desires? Most likely something that would have our enemies laughing themselves silly about how sentimental and quaint all of this was. It did not matter. They would be dead soon enough. Let them have their fun while they still could.
I slipped an arm around my wife's waist and pulled her close to me.
