|My angel, Luis
Author: Skarto PM
On serious hold, sorry.Rated: Fiction M - English - Adventure/Romance - Chapters: 5 - Words: 11,332 - Reviews: 27 - Favs: 6 - Follows: 7 - Updated: 02-28-07 - Published: 03-25-06 - id: 2861036
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
First of all, let me start off with a warning. This story contains rape and psychological terror, possibly torture (if I can get round to it), and Leon X Luis slash. Not very nice, but don't complain. I've just spent my whole Saturday writing this.
Big thanks to Snow Puff, whose stories I thoroughly recommend reading.
Chapters will probably only be this long if I write at weekends, or do little bits on weekdays.
The grass was cool beneath his feet, and the dry soil made a soft padding sound as he walked across it. The hill obscured the view beyond it; all that could be seen was the bright cloudless sky. The man increased his pace, and soon was rewarded with the sight of a wide shoreline, and an immense, sparkling azure ocean. The hill stopped, dropping down to the beach below. Luis Sera unfolded his large white wings, gazing down for a moment at a lone figure walking on the hot sand.
The person seemed to be a young male dressed in some kind of law enforcement uniform, and Luis could make out the letters 'R.P.D' stamped on the front. The man turned towards the sea, hands on his hips, and Luis launched himself off the cliff, ecstasy filling him as his wings stretched out and caught a breeze.
He floated downwards lazily, the warm air blowing back his dark hair, and landed behind the stranger. The man didn't turn around or acknowledge Luis, but sighed and dropped his hands back down dejectedly.
"What happened to you?" Luis murmured. He reached out, and gently grasped the man's upper arm. He turned, sandy hair blowing across his face. He gave Luis a brave smile, but the angel could see that behind blue eyes lay a mind that had seen too much, but would see a lot worse before this poor man was allowed to rest.
Luis drew his left wing in close, and pulled out a long, pure flight feather. He held it out to the man who hesitantly ran a finger up it, feeling the softness of the untainted quill. His hand brushed against Luis's as he took the feather, an almost electrical force passing between them. The man looked down at the feather and smiled again. As he began to fade into a pale light, he gazed into Luis's eyes, and mouthed a single word.
The man faded completely, and was nothing more than small bubbles of light, barely visible in the bright sunshine. Luis ran a hand through his hair, testing his new charge's name.
Leon. With the revelation, Luis knew exactly where he was going next. Spain.
Leon woke up, amazed to find he wasn't screaming or in a cold sweat. There had been no dreams of foul corpses shuffling after him, or unholy terrors leaping out from behind every doorway. No blood dripping off suspended carcasses, and more importantly, no death.
Instead, there had been a briny scent in the air, and a man whose face he couldn't quite remember. He walked to the bathroom out of habit, but far from the noise of his vomit hitting the sink basin, the phone began to ring, jerking him out of his half-asleep stage. He moaned with annoyance, and spitefully let the voice message pick up the call. From his hallway, he could hear his own voice telling the person on the other end that he wasn't in at the moment. There was a beep, and a very official sounding man started to talk.
"Leon Kennedy. As soon as you get this, you'd better get your ass down to headquarters quickly. It doesn't take a genius to work out something's happened. This is no shitty drill; get down here now!"
Leon miserably dunked his head into the cold water of his sink. He really didn't want to go anywhere today, save the gym. In a week's time, he would be bodyguard to the president and his family, and he had to get back in shape. Even though he was well muscled, he found that a couple of hours on the treadmill with his beloved MP3 helped to chase away memories of Racoon City.
Forgetting breakfast like he usually did, Leon dressed into his normal disarming civilian outfit. No sense in getting mobbed on his way to work. He paused for a moment, considering the pure white feather lying on his pillow. Shrugging, he walked out of his apartment. He had bigger things to worry about, by the sound of the voice message.
Luis examined the Plaga embryo under the microscope, noting how the steroids and other such drugs that had been injected into it were affecting growth and stability. All the Ganado assisting him had gone for the night, and as soon as he finished here, Luis was looking forward to dropping onto his bed as well. The only lights on were the ones in his lab, the outside seen through viewing glass was dark and dingy.
Confident that no-one was around, Luis stretched out his wings for a moment, yawning. Every time he waved a hand in front of his face, it became blurred. He needed to get some sleep. Tucking his wings back in, he picked up his notebook, taking too long to realise that someone was behind him.
His face was smashed onto the metal worktop, a hand curled through his hair, painfully pulling at it, and held him in position. He was crushed against the bench by the force of another's body, the action causing test tubes and pipettes to crash on the floor, shattering.
"Hello, little angel." A cold mocking voice, heaving with anger. Luis stiffened, and felt the blood drain from his face.
Luis whined quietly, bloody tears welling in his eyes from the pain. A hand slipped around his front and unbuckled his belt. Luis squeezed his eyes shut, the tears now running swiftly down his cheeks. He didn't want to feel what was going to happen next, didn't want to feel this monster corrupt him. His pants were slid down, and after a second, he felt something push into him.
A spirit glided past my face, and the hair on my body stood on end.
Luis screamed at the burning pain, and then again as it was repeated.
May the Lord judge between you and me.
Saddler was panting behind him, enjoying the pain and humiliation he was causing the angel. The tears ran thick and fast, a constant guttural moan emitting from Luis.
And may the Lord avenge the wrongs you have done to me
Luis was sobbing in terror. His body was shaking from Saddler's exaggerated thrusts, and he focused his eyes on a Plaga embryo suspended in purple liquid, trying to keep his mind and his heart from breaking.
But my hand will not touch you.
The hand in his hair tightened, and Saddler gave a loud moan, his hips coming up one last time.
Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse.
Saddler pulled out of the angel, letting him slid to the floor. Luis huddled in front of the bench, pressing his back to it, his face wet with tears. Saddler was sneering down at him, eyes cold with malevolence. Luis pushed his face into his knees, not bearing to see the face of Satan.
As Saddler stalked out of the room, Luis lifted his head up.
"I forgive you," he whispered. Saddler froze in the middle of the room, and snarled in disgust. The door whooshed open, and the evil cult leader strode out, locking the angel in.
The urge to break down the walls and escape was overwhelming, but Luis knew that to protect this Leon, he had to stay put. He lay on the floor, to tired to find a proper place to sleep, and wrapped his wings around him for comfort. This did little to soothe him, and he began to weep into his soft downy feathers, eventually crying himself into blissful sleep.
Leon arrived at headquarters a little after ten, regretting not grabbing a bite to eat. He was taking the elevator to the fifth floor, Governmental Issues and Incidences. There were a couple of other people in the lift with him, not that he was paying any attention. Very smart looking business people, stereotypically carrying briefcases and wearing brand new suits.
He leaned his head back onto the cool metal of the wall, nodding in time to his MP3 music, taking pleasure in driving the stuffy people mad. Then the music changed.
Instead of 'The Killers' was the sound of glass breaking, and whimpering. Leon frowned and held up the tiny screen to the light, which was still displaying 'Mr. Brightside' as the song being played. On the audio track was now the sound of a man, his voice harsh and angry.
"Hello, little angel."
Leon shook his head, the day wasn't half done, and already weird shit was happening to him. He turned his MP3 off, (much to the relief of the other people in the elevator) and walked through the opening doors and onto the jolly floor of Issues and Incidences. He hadn't gone two steps before he was confronted by a burley man in a black suit, wearing dark glasses.
"Mr. Kennedy?" he inquired. Leon nodded. "Right this way, please."
Leon was led past more smart-but-hassled looking people, down a hallway and into a room labeled 'No access to unauthorized personnel'.
Inside was a massive circular table, a dozen chairs placed around it. Only one of these chairs was occupied.
"Leon, please sit down. Can we get you a drink?" The speaker was a pale man with dark hair and overworked eyes, but he smiled as Leon plonked himself in the opposite seat.
"Coffee please. I haven't had anything all morning." The man smiled sympathetically, and waved his hand at the person who had come in with Leon.
"My name is Henry Davison; I am in charge of this investigation."
Leon twitched at the word 'investigation'.
"Um…what investigation, Mr. Davison?"
"You must not have seen the news." When Leon shook his head, Davison gestured to the screen built into the wall. He pressed a few buttons on a remote, and the news flickered on. A blonde haired woman was talking.
"-ity is to be investigated by trained forces. More on that later, but now back to our main headline. The president's daughter, Ashley Graham, has been kidnapped by an unknown terrorist group on her way back from college. It is believed she will be held to ransom, although the president has stated time and time again that he does not negotiate with terrorists. Will he change this to save his daughter? We have been told that a specially instructed group of people are being prepped as we speak. In other news, the Umb-"
Davison switched off the set, and pushed a stack of papers towards Leon.
"We have received a tip-off that she may be somewhere in Europe, Spain to be precise. Your job is to ask around for information."
Leon opened the file to a picture of the girl, dressed in an orange sweater, with blonde hair and brown eyes. The perfect picture of a damsel in distress.
"So, who are the people coming with me?"
Davison raised his eyebrows, fingers steepled.
Luis woke in pain, lying in a puddle of his own blood. He was incredibly sore, and had to grasp the edge of the worktop before he could stand up. He couldn't harm Saddler, but he could find a way to bring about his downfall.
I don't hate you; I just want to know how you feel. How do you sleep at night? It's not okay, but I'll be fine.
Luis shuddered as he saw a section of the bench was stained with blood. His blood. His eyes passed over his files, his reports, and his…laptop. As quickly as he could, Luis turned on the computer, and dragged it into a corner of the room. Calling up an e-mail program, he looked over his lists of contacts, wondering who to send a warning to. Eventually he decided on a man called Carlos who had contacts in the American government.
The president's daughter is trapped in a village called Pueblo near the East coast of Spain. Be caref
Luis heard footsteps coming towards him, down the hall. He quickly hit the 'send' button, and watched as the e-mail processed the information.
The door was unlocked, and Saddler strolled into the room. Luis immediately dropped the laptop, and scuttled to another corner, away from Saddler. The cult leader bent down to read the screen of the computer, and Luis watched in horror. A little 'ping' sounded from the inbuilt speaker, and a smug little voice confirmed the message was sent.
Saddler slowly swivelled his head towards Luis, his face twisted in spite and hatred. He stood up, and Luis frantically tried to shield himself with his hands. Saddler pulled him to his feet, and Luis gave a whimper of pain as he was pressed against the bench again.
The second time was worse than the first, as Saddler was very angry. He used his nails to gouge deep scratches in Luis's back and neck, all the while tormenting him by telling him exactly what he was going to do next.
Sometime in the middle of this second humiliation, Luis went numb, physically and mentally. He could no longer feel Saddler thrusting and touching him, and suddenly didn't care. His tears had run out long ago, and now all he could do was lie limply on the counter as Saddler rocked back and forth.
Eventually it was all over, and Saddler bent over Luis, licking his earlobe.
"Do you forgive me now, angel?"
Luis shivered, his eyes wide. He nodded hesitantly, and felt himself being slammed onto the ground.
"Take him to Mendez. We'll see just how much he can take before he starts cursing us. And then-" Saddler leaned over Luis, whispering. "You'll go to hell, little angel."
Two sets of strong arms lifted him up, and as he was carried out of the room, Saddler chuckled.
Rape is not pretty. Poor Luis.