Chapter 57: Take a Bow

"Give it up for our favorite loser!"

The following contains material that may be distressing to some readers.

Trigger Warnings: Self-harm, drugging, physical and verbal abuse.

Reader discretion is advised.

Music

The erratic throbbing of your pulse drowns out the rioting, the cruelty of your captor, and even the incessant beat of the music around you.

This is my fault. I could have stopped at any time. I could have shown Mercy. I could have listened.

The blood slaked across your bandages is a deeper crimson than the passages before you, the haze that's settled over your vision, or the fire adorning Remigius' head.

I have tried to be manipulative, to be cunning, to push my luck, to do everything other than what I was asked to do— and where has it taken me?

The horrific pressure in your gut, the weight of the drugs forced into you, the suffocating grasp of the demon around you, and every excruciating step you're being dragged through is almost worse than any Catalyst you've survived.

I'm alone. Why do I keep pushing everyone away? Why don't I ever stop?

A part of you is cognizant that the succubus is still talking.

I still deserve the blessing of the Gods, don't I? For all of my recent sin, haven't I done everything in Their name?

Time stretches on— further than your limits have been stretched tonight— and your nightmarish procession continues.

Haven't I dedicated my life to Mercy? Why can't I feel Them? Is it the drugs? Is this Remigius' doing?

Her lair is a labyrinth, devoid of markings and utterly foreign to you. For all your knowledge of the ruins, for all of this domain's Flesh, you have never felt so lost.

Have They finally forsaken me?

What have I ever done to deserve Them?

Remigius' words intermingle with your haphazard pulse. You're uncertain which one is more indicative of your impending death. "We're here, Daddy. Time's up. I know you must have a hard time recognizing when someone is showing restraint, but here it is. Here's some fucking courtesy."

Through the pounding heat, the rush of blood, the unbearable weight in your stomach and the constant desire to lay down and die, you try to focus on what the demon is gesturing to.

It's a cage. The labyrinth opens out into an arena encased entirely in bars made of bone, sinew, veins and viscera. Though you've scarcely been able to tell the source of the rioting before, you now see hundreds of demons gathered within the chamber that looms ahead. The rows of seats, standing monstrosities, and the cage itself stretches to the peak of a cavernous ceiling. The enclosed space spans across an equal width of the room like a living dome. Your pulse and their screams are deafening.

Remigius whispers in your ear over the cacophony with all the intimacy and violence that you've come to expect from her. "I know you only want one thing. I'll give you a fight. You give them a good show, and I'll let you leave. I'll get the drugs out of your system. I'll even fix up your body!"

My body. Mercy, what has she done to me? Would Agriculture see fit to bless me after everything she forced into me? Would Flesh even be able to work through me?

"You go crying back to your friends, you bitch and you plead for forgiveness, and we pretend like none of this ever happened— but you fucking humiliated me in private, Daddy. I'm going to do the same to you in public."

This can't be the end. They can't all be right. I'm not a heathen, am I? I can't be worse than a demon.

Did I not succeed in protecting my friends, time after time? Have I not remained honest— to myself, to the Gods, to my enemies and everyone else that's trusted me?

I absolutely succeeded in aiding Yech. No one can deny that I've shown him Mercy.

I'm not a complete failure.

This fight can't be over.

Your reverie is cut short. Her threats are instantly realized.

You're promptly shoved forward into the chaos and crimson. The jeers and taunts from the crowd are unbearably explicit. You long to shut out the abuse, to pray, to attune yourself to something other than the overwhelming reminder of your failures.

"I gave you more chances than anyone should have ever given you, you piece of shit."

You're pushed forward again. The air is stifling. The urge to choke and gasp on everything that's been shoved through your throat threatens to give way.

"You'll show Yech a good time, you'll give him everything he needs, and you won't do a damn thing for me?! You want to try and play me— we'll fucking play! Let's hear it! You tell me everything you want to say. You show me all that hate, all that fucking insecurity! Lay into me! Or would you rather me just keep beating on you?!"

The cage leers ahead.

"So what's it going to be?! Are you just going to fucking take it?!"

This demon has possibly severed my connection to the Gods, tried to ruin my body and mind, and has never once shown me anything but hostility. She's utterly insane, and she wants me to talk to her?

Your clenched fists, your gritted teeth, the swell of abuse and resentment in your gut and all of the hatred you hold for this demon's kind is unbearable. You can't stand it any longer.

Have I learned nothing?

Through the haze of intoxication, you try to straighten up, and turn and face Remigius.

She stops shoving you the moment you show sign of directing your focus towards her. The succubus' hair stands on end, but you don't permit her to talk over you any longer. Against the backdrop of so many other monsters, her meek and manic form seems a lot less intimidating.

Even if the Gods aren't here with me now, I still have lived to serve them. I am a preacher.

It's been too long since I've acted like one.

Though you're battered and broken, you still put your best face forward. It's too much to take your arms from your sides, to stop the tremor or to stand completely straight— but you soften your expression, and look to your tormentor with absolute sincerity. Your soft-spoken words are nearly drowned out by the roar of the countless demons surrounding you both.

"I'm sorry."

It's impossible to tell if the succubus is toying with you, or legitimately can't hear you as she leans in again, screaming, "what?! You're joking— you must be fucking kidding me! After everything you've done—!"

"Stop. Remigius, your treatment of me hasn't helped, and I've thought my hand has been forced— but even I can see that this isn't getting us anywhere— that I was horribly mistaken. I'm sorry. I know you don't want to hear what I can or can't do, but I can't help you if I can't even begin to understand what it is that you need."

The flush of the demon's domain, the scarlet of her hair and the crimson on your wounds is nowhere near as red as her eyes. It's obvious that she has been crying. She bores into you in disbelief and rage. "You must still be drugged. There's no fucking way that you'd listen to me. Shut the fuck up and fight me."

There's still absolutely something in your system. Though your senses are dulled, you do everything in your power to hold your ground, to put out your chest, to straighten up further and to make yourself clear. "There are some things that I simply can't do for you, Remigius— just as there are some things you won't do for me. Please, try to understand."

The succubus stiffens even further. You're reminded more of a cat that's been cornered than of a demon, as she silently glares at you.

"You can't let your guard down, can you? You won't show any weakness here— surrounded by your friends— will you?"

She practically hisses back at you. "I've told you what I want. You still don't fucking get it."

"Is it even possible for us to speak plainly to one another? Without any innuendo or contempt? I understand that you want me to live up to your expectations, Remigius, but I can't even begin to understand what they are if you won't stop attacking me or pushing me to sin. I can't fight you."

So much distress crosses the demon's face, you have to wonder if you've actually wounded her merely through words alone. "Why should I believe you? How the fuck can you expect me to trust you, when everything you've done has told me otherwise?"

The urge to clutch at your sides, to double over in agony, and to lay down and die is rapidly becoming eclipsed by the need to do something decent. You fight through the discomfort and self-resentment to look straight at Remigius. "Don't."

She recoils. "...what?"

"You don't have to trust me. You shouldn't. I've given you no reason to." Either the constant din of the demons around you is becoming easier to ignore, the cocktail of drugs in you is spurring you on, or you're actually feeling better about what you're doing. No matter the reason, you manage to keep talking. "We've both been in the wrong here, but I can't just stand here and pretend like I haven't failed you."

"Are you trying to imply something, you little shit?"

"I'm trying to speak plainly, Remigius— but you don't have to take my word for it. I don't expect you to." Merely trying to stand upright and speak at length is so taxing that you have to stop a moment. Cringing from the cramps in your stomach— hands on your knees— you're stunned by the fact that the succubus actually waits for you to finish what you have to say.

You look up to her in a cold sweat. Your conviction is unwavering. "I swear I won't lay another hand on you."

Remigius looks so disgusted that it comes as no surprise when she actually spits on you. There's a roar from the dozens of demons on every side of the arena. She looks around wildly and in no state to handle your apology or your situation.

Is this too little, too late? What more can I possibly do?

You wipe off her judgement. "I'll ask you again, Remigius: what do you even want from me?"

Wide-eyed, the demon looks to you with the same shark-like grin as before. Her expression is so entirely unhinged that you want to draw back.

Your reaction is delayed, and she brings herself close to you once more. To the jeers and whistles of the crowd. Leaning in impossibly close to you— drawing out a groan as she grasps onto your fractured shoulder— she presses her lips to the base of your neck. "You want to know what I want? I want you. Not the pomp and ceremony, not the fear or insecurity. Not what you want to prove and not who you think you need to be. I want you as you really are. I thought you'd forgotten yourself, and now I've got this whole fucking stage with no show to put on. You're humiliating me again, Daddy—"

There's a hand slipping from your shoulder to the countless scars along your back. You realize a moment too late what the demon's intent is, as she pulls you in flush against her. The chaos of the audience is altogether lost to her heat and insanity. "I don't know what to do. I want to kill you, here and now— but you're teasing me, Daddy. You can't just give me what I want when everyone is watching. You're obscene. You should have saved this for the bedroom. How am I supposed to get us any privacy now?"

You stay in the succubus' arms just long enough to speak to her discreetly. It's not that you want to hide the truth from the demons in the audience. It's that you respect her wishes enough to caution her before she makes another mistake. "Humiliating me won't give either of us what you really want."

"I know."

"You do?"

"Of course. This is all for them, Daddy. This has never been about me."

"I thought you wanted to know me. Your coterie is not helping, Remigius."

"What do think you know?"

"Putting on a show won't assuage damaged pride. People like— like us— have no use for it."

The succubus pulls back. Her bare body and utterly weakened form glares back at you. You practically fall after her, righting yourself as quickly as you're able.

"What makes you think I have any pride?" She looks down at you, as you put your hands to your knees for support once again. "What makes you think you fucking know me?"

"The church is all I've ever known, Remigius. I scarcely know what to think of you."

"And I suppose that's why you don't fucking know yourself, either?"

"I don't know." You couldn't be breathing any harder. "I want to help you, Remigius. I won't fight you, and I can't say I know with any certainty who you expect me to be..."

I have no idea who I even am. I know what I want, what I need, but who I really am?

"...I can at least help you with this." The succubus looks at you with utter disbelief as you raise your chin to her, discreetly beckoning for her to hit you. "Go on. Stage it. We'll keep up your appearances. I have no use for any pride, remember? You do what you need to do. I know how important this is to you."

There's a long pause. It's heavier than the drugs, the weight dragging you down, the exhaustion and pain edging back into the corners of every inch of your body.

Remigius raises her arms to the demons around you both.

Music

They instantly silence themselves.

Her voice rings out in the same uncanny resonance you've heard so many times before. The speech clings to the walls, the floor, rattles the bones of the cage looming before you and shakes you to your core.

Though her tone is unbelievably vibrant, you can feel the sag in her shoulders, and the defeat with which she begins to push you forward towards the death trap ahead.

"Thank you all for your ABSOLUTE LACK of fucking patience! I know we've lost quite a few heads tonight, but who'd like to see one more roll?!"

The surge of jeering and rioting the moment Remigius provokes the audience stands every hair on your body on end.

She could command them all to try and kill me at any moment.

She quiets the chaos with another wave of her hands.

"That's too fucking bad— my maleficent monsters, you'd all blow your loads before we get started! I know you've been waiting all night! I'm here to reward you my darlings, my demons!"

There's a surge of agreement, of applause, and silence once more.

"Our HONORED guest, the Father HIMSELF, has had the unprecedented privilege of my undivided attention! AND DO YOU ALL SEE WHERE IT'S GOTTEN HIM?!"

Remigius is looking your beaten, bloated and entirely ravaged body over. You feel the eyes of a hundred demons on you. There is nowhere to hide. Nowhere to turn. The succubus is refusing to touch you in plain sight of what is surely every demon in her domain, with nothing to distract you from her voice and the total command she holds over the room.

"As a token of OUR appreciation, we're giving him yet another gift! AND DO YOU KNOW WHAT THAT IS?!"

The demon is pointing straight at you. She's asking you directly.

She's finally speaking plainly.

Mercy, no.

"OH, DON'T BE SHY, DADDY. You might not know us, but we sure know you! Go on. Tell us. Let us know how you'd like to spend your time in The Fuck Zone."

The look on Remigius' face says that she's trusting you to not step out of line. Every word that falls from her lips is more abrasive and horrific than the last. Something about the way she's pointing to you reminds you of a spell, and though you're not certain of the mechanism, you strongly suspect she's about to amplify whatever you say next.

As soon as you begin to speak, your voice is amplified throughout the entire arena. There's a tint of divinity to it. You expected the drama, and try to put on your best show— but you are a terrible actor, and the spotlight is making your speech dramatically worse than it would be otherwise.

"I'll— I'll contend with you, Remigius. I'll show you what— what I promised. We'll fight."

There's a huge surge of jeering, of an overwhelming consensus that no one wants to see what you have to share.

The finger being pointed at you promptly pulls away before you can say anything further. It's almost as if she's scared of what you might say.

"YOU HEARD THE MAN! HE WANTS A FIGHT! WHAT MORE COULD WE ASK FOR?!"

The uproar from the audience is deafening.

You make a small show of putting up resistance against the succubus as she pushes you adjacent to the cage. The haze around the edges of your mind is gradually lifting. It leads you to wonder in part how much time you've spent in Remigius' domain, and just how drugged you still are.

Rather than a door opening to gain entry, the succubus shoves you aside to rip the flesh and sinew of the cage apart with her bare hands. After making the opening, she takes a moment to smear a huge quantity of the blood and viscera over herself.

You look to her with legitimate disgust.

She grabs you by the throat, and drags you inside. You can't help but choke through her grasp— coughing, and sincerely grinning. You dig into the ruse, the pain, and the continued suffocation. "It isn't too late— hh— to consider holding hands here, is it? Something chaste—?"

Your smile wanes. You genuinely want to dodge away from the punch directed straight at your abdomen, but it's impossible to move with your usual dexterity.

The blow sinks in, taking with it the rest of the air from your lungs and any doubt as to how soft your body has become. There's a cry from the crowd as you fall to your knees. Blood comes to your lips. There's little pain— only enough to barely grab your attention— but the blow had to have done some serious damage for you to respond in such a way.

"Disgusting." Remigius lifts your head with one of her feet, not even bothering to touch you with her hands. "Let's see you use your fucking blessings now."

With righteous frustration, you stagger to your feet, and spit another wad of viscera to the floor. "I've been called worse— felt worse— looked worse. Is this really the best you can do?"

The demon lets loose a scream, throwing herself at you, and tackling you both to the floor. You both tumble for several moments in a fight for dominance. She's all too eager to play dirty, spreading the blood from her hands across your face.

You want to retch, and the moment of hesitation gives her the upper hand. Pressing your head to the bottom of the cage, Remigius pulls back hard on your hair, and you lean into the motion. Pulling with her aggression, giving off the impression of attempting to slip out of her grasp, you only go harder into it.

Remigius leans in— whispering to you as she tries to grab the arm connected to your fractured shoulder— which you expertly ease into her hands. "You're not bad at this... you wanted my best, though, Daddy? Here it is!"

Dread and elation hits you harder and faster than any other blow the demon has dealt to you.

She's going to break it. I doubt Flesh could heal the wound in my current state. Mercy certainly wouldn't. Mercy, she's not hesitating—

Every last miserable choice that's led you to this point flashes through your mind's eye. You can't help but think that the Gods are sick of your shit— that there is nothing you can do at this point to make matters worse— but this is about more than self-pity. This has always been about more than you.

Take it like a fucking man. The church didn't raise me to be a coward. I set myself on this path. Take it like a fucking man.

"Do it. Show me what you want from me. Let me help you."

Music

There's no suppressing your scream. It tears through the roar of the audience, the sickening snap of the bone, the excruciating and perfect agony that causes your arm to go slack, bruises to blossom, and for gold to burst before your eyes.

Every ragged breath from your chest is deeper and heavier than the drugs. Every beat of your heart, every minor motion, and every catch in your breath causes another surge of pain to crash into you.

Remigius simply leans back and watches the fruits of her labor. Your struggle to maintain your composure. Through gritted teeth, through blood and the inescapable release, you drag your head along the floor to try and get up. To keep up the fight.

The crowd somehow becomes even more wild.

Remigius grins to you, and pulls you up onto your knees. The sudden movement elicits another scream, as the bone shifts and the break moves freely. There aren't enough drugs in all of Corcaea to dull the momentum.

"MERCY—!"

You're jerked again— harder, this time— onto your feet. You can't speak coherently, but a cacophony of haphazard gasps and pleas to your Goddess are falling from you like so much blood from your lips. You can't think. You clutch instinctively to the site of the break, to steady it, to reduce as much permanent damage as you possibly can.

Restraint. Discipline. Conviction.

Mercy.

Mercy.

Mercy—!

The succubus is keeping you on your feet, embracing you, and moving you just enough to constantly aggravate the break. She whispers to you once again, though you can scarcely hear her over the chorus of your devotion. "Not bad, Daddy. Not bad at all. Don't you dare disappoint me now. We're almost through here."

Her voice rings out through the arena. The vibration courses through you. You lean into her, desperate for something to steady the pleasure against. The pain. Your blessing. A curse.

"Can you all please give it up for our favorite loser?!"

The pandemonium of your audience reaches their climax. The sound of their revelry collapses in on itself as you struggle to remain conscious and in control.

It's a losing battle.

Remigius looks to you with so much depravity that you instinctively pull back. You instantly regret and savor the motion.

Unable to still yourself— completely taken with exacerbating the injury— you're taken back into her grasp in an instant. She moves to raise your arm above your head.

"Take a bow, Daddy, and I'll go get you patched up. Just like I promised."

I won't give up now. Oh, Mercy, I won't stop. There's no stopping this. Not for Celegwen, for Ofelia, for all of the women I could ever be with—! Mercy, this is a blessing. This has all been for the better.

I can't pray. I won't invoke. I don't need to.

Remigius has been helping me all along. There's hope. Nothing can ever be easy for me, and Mercy, it doesn't have to be. There's hope, despite my hypocrisy and ignorance. I've rejected so much, but I know now. I have to confront it. I have to accept it.

There's Mercy here, in a different form.

Think of Ray. Think of Celegwen— think of fishing. Cold mornings on the river Morinburn. Walking down the streets of Eadric, through the dead of Worship. Think of baking, of Ofelia, and of everything that I have waiting for me when I get back to the surface, of hope and light and relief—

Music (Flashing Lights Warning)

"Do it, Remigius! Do it— do it, do it, drive it in! FINISH! Show me how wrong I've been—! SO I CAN BE BETTER, FOR ONCE IN MY LIFE—! MERCY—! MERCY!"