Third and last Career Fest fic:This

Third and last Career Fest fic:

This is another response to the ninja prompt. It wasn't exactly what the original prompt requested (it started out as a death fic, then became something strange and twisted), so I called it an anti-fill and posted it at the end of the fest.

Title: He Slayed 'Em
Pairing/Characters: Asami/Takaba
Scenario: Aki is a trained assassin and Asami is his target
Warnings/Spoilers: Some very dark humor, twisted serial-killing clowns
Disclaimer: Yamane-sensei owns the characters
Rating: NC-17







He Slayed 'Em



Silence in the club was normally a relative thing, whispers of exchanged numbers, clinking glasses, chairs squeaking against the grungy tile floor, but that night when the yellow patch of a hanging light suddenly shimmied upon the blackness of the stage the silence was absolute. It came from different places, anticipation, lust, fear, and from a few even terror. From one at the back though it came from a hatred so deep that other club patrons edged away, sensing that whatever came out onto the stage it couldn't be as bad as the darkness that stood beside them.

He turned his hands to the rough denim of his black jeans and wiped the sweat off. This shouldn't be happening. He was a professional. But he'd looked forward to this for years and the anticipation was almost more than he could bear.

There was a shuffling offstage and, though he didn't think it possible, the room grew even more quiet. He could hear his hand as he slid it into his pocket and fingered the cool cylinder of the syringe. But the plastic slipped from his grasp as his target sauntered onto the stage, hideous white paint on his face, cigarette hanging from the red gash painted in mimicry of a smile.

There was an collective gasp from the audience.

The eyes looking down at them were scornful and mocking. "What? Haven't you ever seen a clown before?"

His teeth ground together. He fucking hated clowns. And one that made a mockery of everything he held in esteem? Yeah...

"... and that's how he managed the greatest number of kills using a single shuriken. No one has come close to the record since."

"But sensei, his method—"

"Was unconventional, Takaba-kun, yes, and the client was displeased that the blood spatters *ahem* happened to spell out the first verse of Ninety-nine Mafia Heads on the Floor." The class laughed, and he couldn't help joining in. "Nonetheless..."

"It wasn't professional."

"No. Nor is it the sign of a healthy mind. And that is why he was dismissed from the guild. And why, Takaba-kun, you and the rest of the class will be expected to write papers about the roles that ritual and solemn purpose play in our way of life..."

Asami had done it any number of times before he'd been thrown out, flouting the conventions, doing things his own way for a cheap laugh, robbing the target of his dignity. And Takaba couldn't help it. He'd heard the stories and laughed too and even admired the guy a little, all the while hating himself for it. It should never be a funny thing to take a life. That would be insane.

No, they held to their rituals for a reason. It held the darkness at bay, a constant struggle for those in their profession. They'd all felt the control slip from time to time. It was considered their greatest sin. And yet Asami hadn't just let his slip; he'd actively thrown it away and embraced the madness.

The general public knew nothing of this of course. Asami Ryuichi. "Genius." "Scathingly honest critic of society." Bullshit. He's just one fucked-up bastard. And his new profession is aimed squarely at his old guild. Aimed at ninja like me, who take our jobs seriously. Fucking clown...

The gaze that had been upon the audience shot up over their heads straight to where he was standing. He took a startled step back, further into the shadows.

"You hate clowns, don't you?"

What the...?

"Yet every morning you stand in front of mirrors and turn yourselves into them." He drew on his cigarette, his eyes moving back to the audience in front of him. "When evening comes you all show up here, elites, intelligentsia, all wanting to hear how evil modern society is. All wanting to be above it. But it's not about what society does to you. It's what you've done to society. You're the rot on the tree that needs to be cut out, the false growth. Assassins are probably the most useful people on the planet, pruning away dead meat."

Takaba froze. There was some nervous laughter from the audience.

"The best ones add an element of torture, peeling back the thick layers you hide behind. The ones you never admit you have. You, in the blue jacket. Think how much I could discover if we started taking off the masks you wear. Would your wife object, or would she join in when you started screaming of your mistress?"

A voice called out from the audience. "I thought you were supposed to be funny?"

Asami lifted an eyebrow, flicking some ashes away. "I am. I'm hysterical. Didn't they check your intelligence at the door? You obviously don't get the jokes." He looked to the side, offstage. "Who let this one in?"

Other audience members laughed, happy they weren't being judged for the moment. He shot them a withering look.

"As if the likes of you have anything to be laughing at. If you got the jokes you wouldn't be here in the first place. The only reason any of us has to be happy is that one of you is going to die tonight and relieve us of his presence. "

Asami liked playing with his audience, dark tricks. Sometimes they disappeared. Sometimes, on rare occasion, they didn't come back. The police had never been able to prove anything though. His act drew audiences like moths to flame, and they'd swear falsely to anything their god claimed. Even that they had done it instead of him.

"It won't be me! It's what you're all thinking. Hiding behind your false self-confidence. Thinking you'll be the one to outsmart me. When the only way to outsmart me is staying safe in the bosoms of your friends." His gaze again flickered over deathly-still Takaba, a flame heating his skin.

His act. It's only his act. He took a deep breath and glanced down at his watch. It was almost time to end this. His hand again caressed what was in his pocket. The only bad thing about killing him was that he wouldn't get to see the look on his face after the fact, acknowledging his accomplishment. It would almost be funny.

He squashed the thought and kept himself from giggling hysterically.

"You're worse than I am. At least I admit I'm wearing a mask."

Takaba's eyes nervously flicked up and again found himself meeting the intense look of a man who couldn't possibly be seeing him.

"And I'm not afraid to stand in front of you and take it off."

The comedian pulled one of his hands from his pocket and toyed with his garish silk necktie. His long fingers were covered in a supple white leather that Takaba could almost feel on his skin. Asami slipped the knot down and began pulling it free from his neck, the rasp of it audible at the back of the lounge. By the time the length reached two meters the crowd began tittering. That died a little when it ended a moment later in a noose. Asami let it dangle for a moment. "I don't suppose anyone would volunteer...?" After a moment his lip curled. "I didn't think so." He started to fold the silk.

"I will."

Takaba was shocked to hear himself volunteering. The plan was to slip up behind him after the show, quick, anonymous, silent. He never let the target see his face. But this time he had to. With this one it had always been something personal.

Asami had stopped dead upon hearing his voice, then his head had slowly raised, a hellish light in his eyes. His voice dropped a register to become dark and caressing. "Will you...? Will you let me place the silk around your neck?"

Takaba could already feel the bonds there, pulling him forward. He had for a long time, ever since he'd first seen the performances on television as a boy; he swore that moment that if the chance came, he'd take it. He'd show Asami how death was dealt, that it was solemn and beautiful even at the ugliest moments. That day when the contract had slid across the desk from his superiors he'd almost come on the spot.

That was why it had to end. Tonight he was going to cut himself free.

He hopped lightly onto the stage, ready to jump out of the way and act if he had to. But before he could do more than muster a thought Asami had him spun about, his hands out of his pockets and over his head, the silk wrapped around them. "So eager to die?" the man murmured into his ear from behind, standing close. Asami's right hand slipped to his chin, the soft leather hiding a strong grip as he forced Takaba to look out toward the crowd. He couldn't see a thing. How could he have...?

"How about a round of applause for the young man who wants to end his life so cheaply," Asami's sardonic words rang out through the room. The audience, thinking it was a gag, applauded enthusiastically.

Teeth tugged gently at his ear lobe before words were mouthed quietly into it. "They love you. It's always best to die at your peak. You'll live forever that way."

"Of course you'll clap for him," Asami's voice boomed from the stage again. "He has the balls to do what each of you should be doing to end your own pathetic lives." His left hand had dropped and with teasing fingers was lightly outlining Takaba's hard-on. Takaba was on the verge of coming in his pants.

"Wait," the words came softly into his hair, "until I start to strangle you. It will be so much more intense."

Semen leaked copiously from the end of his cock. There was nasty laughter as the stain appeared. They thought he'd pissed himself.

He suddenly realized that one hand was on his chin, another between his legs- meaning nothing was holding his hands. He tugged at them but to his dismay they were now tied to something over his head. He squinted upward only to have his view blocked by that white face, no

Kết quả (Việt) 1:

Third and last Career Fest fic:This is another response to the ninja prompt. It wasn't exactly what the original prompt requested (it started out as a death fic, then became something strange and twisted), so I called it an anti-fill and posted it at the end of the fest.Title: He Slayed 'EmPairing/Characters: Asami/TakabaScenario: Aki is a trained assassin and Asami is his targetWarnings/Spoilers: Some very dark humor, twisted serial-killing clownsDisclaimer: Yamane-sensei owns the charactersRating: NC-17He Slayed 'EmSilence in the club was normally a relative thing, whispers of exchanged numbers, clinking glasses, chairs squeaking against the grungy tile floor, but that night when the yellow patch of a hanging light suddenly shimmied upon the blackness of the stage the silence was absolute. It came from different places, anticipation, lust, fear, and from a few even terror. From one at the back though it came from a hatred so deep that other club patrons edged away, sensing that whatever came out onto the stage it couldn't be as bad as the darkness that stood beside them.He turned his hands to the rough denim of his black jeans and wiped the sweat off. This shouldn't be happening. He was a professional. But he'd looked forward to this for years and the anticipation was almost more than he could bear.There was a shuffling offstage and, though he didn't think it possible, the room grew even more quiet. He could hear his hand as he slid it into his pocket and fingered the cool cylinder of the syringe. But the plastic slipped from his grasp as his target sauntered onto the stage, hideous white paint on his face, cigarette hanging from the red gash painted in mimicry of a smile.There was an collective gasp from the audience.The eyes looking down at them were scornful and mocking. "What? Haven't you ever seen a clown before?"His teeth ground together. He fucking hated clowns. And one that made a mockery of everything he held in esteem? Yeah..."... and that's how he managed the greatest number of kills using a single shuriken. No one has come close to the record since.""But sensei, his method—""Was unconventional, Takaba-kun, yes, and the client was displeased that the blood spatters *ahem* happened to spell out the first verse of Ninety-nine Mafia Heads on the Floor." The class laughed, and he couldn't help joining in. "Nonetheless...""It wasn't professional.""No. Nor is it the sign of a healthy mind. And that is why he was dismissed from the guild. And why, Takaba-kun, you and the rest of the class will be expected to write papers about the roles that ritual and solemn purpose play in our way of life..."Asami đã làm nó nhiều lần trước khi ông đã được ném ra, flouting các công ước, làm việc theo cách riêng của mình cho một cười rẻ, cướp mục tiêu nhân phẩm của mình. Và Takaba không thể giúp nó. Ông đã nghe những câu chuyện và cười quá và thậm chí ngưỡng mộ người một chút, trong khi hating mình cho nó. Nó không bao giờ là một điều funny để có một cuộc sống. Đó sẽ là điên.Không, họ tổ chức nghi lễ của họ cho một lý do. Nó tổ chức trong bóng tối tại vịnh, một cuộc đấu tranh liên tục đối với những người trong nghề nghiệp của họ. Họ đã tất cả cảm thấy kiểm soát trượt theo thời gian. Nó được coi là tội lỗi lớn nhất của họ. Và chưa Asami đã không chỉ cho phiếu của mình; tích cực, ông đã ném nó đi và chấp nhận sự điên rồ. Công chúng nói chung không biết gì về điều này tất nhiên. Asami Ryuichi. "Thiên tài." "Trung thực scathingly nhà phê bình của xã hội." Nhảm nhí. Ông là chỉ là một tên khốn fucked-up. Và nghề nghiệp mới của mình là nhằm vuông tại guild cũ của mình. Nhằm vào ninja như tôi, những người có công việc của chúng tôi nghiêm túc. Thằng hề...Chiêm ngưỡng đã khi đối tượng bắn trên đầu họ thẳng đến nơi ông đã đứng. Ông đã giật mình bước trở lại, thêm vào bóng tối. "Bạn ghét clowns, không bạn?"Những gì các...?"Yet every morning you stand in front of mirrors and turn yourselves into them." He drew on his cigarette, his eyes moving back to the audience in front of him. "When evening comes you all show up here, elites, intelligentsia, all wanting to hear how evil modern society is. All wanting to be above it. But it's not about what society does to you. It's what you've done to society. You're the rot on the tree that needs to be cut out, the false growth. Assassins are probably the most useful people on the planet, pruning away dead meat."Takaba froze. There was some nervous laughter from the audience. "The best ones add an element of torture, peeling back the thick layers you hide behind. The ones you never admit you have. You, in the blue jacket. Think how much I could discover if we started taking off the masks you wear. Would your wife object, or would she join in when you started screaming of your mistress?"A voice called out from the audience. "I thought you were supposed to be funny?"Asami lifted an eyebrow, flicking some ashes away. "I am. I'm hysterical. Didn't they check your intelligence at the door? You obviously don't get the jokes." He looked to the side, offstage. "Who let this one in?"Other audience members laughed, happy they weren't being judged for the moment. He shot them a withering look."As if the likes of you have anything to be laughing at. If you got the jokes you wouldn't be here in the first place. The only reason any of us has to be happy is that one of you is going to die tonight and relieve us of his presence. "Asami liked playing with his audience, dark tricks. Sometimes they disappeared. Sometimes, on rare occasion, they didn't come back. The police had never been able to prove anything though. His act drew audiences like moths to flame, and they'd swear falsely to anything their god claimed. Even that they had done it instead of him."It won't be me! It's what you're all thinking. Hiding behind your false self-confidence. Thinking you'll be the one to outsmart me. When the only way to outsmart me is staying safe in the bosoms of your friends." His gaze again flickered over deathly-still Takaba, a flame heating his skin.His act. It's only his act. He took a deep breath and glanced down at his watch. It was almost time to end this. His hand again caressed what was in his pocket. The only bad thing about killing him was that he wouldn't get to see the look on his face after the fact, acknowledging his accomplishment. It would almost be funny.He squashed the thought and kept himself from giggling hysterically."You're worse than I am. At least I admit I'm wearing a mask."Takaba's eyes nervously flicked up and again found himself meeting the intense look of a man who couldn't possibly be seeing him."And I'm not afraid to stand in front of you and take it off."The comedian pulled one of his hands from his pocket and toyed with his garish silk necktie. His long fingers were covered in a supple white leather that Takaba could almost feel on his skin. Asami slipped the knot down and began pulling it free from his neck, the rasp of it audible at the back of the lounge. By the time the length reached two meters the crowd began tittering. That died a little when it ended a moment later in a noose. Asami let it dangle for a moment. "I don't suppose anyone would volunteer...?" After a moment his lip curled. "I didn't think so." He started to fold the silk.
"I will."

Takaba was shocked to hear himself volunteering. The plan was to slip up behind him after the show, quick, anonymous, silent. He never let the target see his face. But this time he had to. With this one it had always been something personal.

Asami had stopped dead upon hearing his voice, then his head had slowly raised, a hellish light in his eyes. His voice dropped a register to become dark and caressing. "Will you...? Will you let me place the silk around your neck?"

Takaba could already feel the bonds there, pulling him forward. He had for a long time, ever since he'd first seen the performances on television as a boy; he swore that moment that if the chance came, he'd take it. He'd show Asami how death was dealt, that it was solemn and beautiful even at the ugliest moments. That day when the contract had slid across the desk from his superiors he'd almost come on the spot.

That was why it had to end. Tonight he was going to cut himself free.

He hopped lightly onto the stage, ready to jump out of the way and act if he had to. But before he could do more than muster a thought Asami had him spun about, his hands out of his pockets and over his head, the silk wrapped around them. "So eager to die?" the man murmured into his ear from behind, standing close. Asami's right hand slipped to his chin, the soft leather hiding a strong grip as he forced Takaba to look out toward the crowd. He couldn't see a thing. How could he have...?

"How about a round of applause for the young man who wants to end his life so cheaply," Asami's sardonic words rang out through the room. The audience, thinking it was a gag, applauded enthusiastically.

Teeth tugged gently at his ear lobe before words were mouthed quietly into it. "They love you. It's always best to die at your peak. You'll live forever that way."

"Of course you'll clap for him," Asami's voice boomed from the stage again. "He has the balls to do what each of you should be doing to end your own pathetic lives." His left hand had dropped and with teasing fingers was lightly outlining Takaba's hard-on. Takaba was on the verge of coming in his pants.

"Wait," the words came softly into his hair, "until I start to strangle you. It will be so much more intense."

Semen leaked copiously from the end of his cock. There was nasty laughter as the stain appeared. They thought he'd pissed himself.

He suddenly realized that one hand was on his chin, another between his legs- meaning nothing was holding his hands. He tugged at them but to his dismay they were now tied to something over his head. He squinted upward only to have his view blocked by that white face, no