Sunday Snippets: Theriac Prologue

Hi folks! So, I've been doing a bit more work on my new fic, around the newest chapter of DEADICATION and this months NSFW one-shot, and I think the prologue/first chapter is pretty close to being completed. So, I figured I would share the entire thing with you all today!

I'm not going to pretend I'm any good at titles... without puns I am lost at sea. But Theriac actually gives a really good clue to the entire plot twist, so it will do!

Without further ado.

Theriac: Prologue

 “Go in, ask my questions, get out.”

The soft shaky timbre of the researcher's voice echoed down the brightly-lit corridor, a muddled green mess against the clinical white walls. He’d been standing here for almost three minutes now, staring down at the clipboard in his hand, fighting back his apprehension as he waited for the timer above the tall featureless door to count down to zero. It wasn’t his first time standing in one of these corridors, apprehension pooling in his gut and, on one memorable occasion, half a goat swung over his shoulder. But it was his first time standing in this corridor. And he had waited a long time to be here. After all, there wasn’t a researcher alive who hadn’t itched for the chance to question their most famous of oddities, and this particular researcher knew full well just how lucky he was to have been given the opportunity. But knowing that only seemed to make his palms that much sweatier.

One minute until clearance, booooy!

He took a deep breath, adjusting his grip on the clipboard lest it slip from his gross fingers.

“Go in, ask my questions, get out.”

Despite the oddity beyond the vacant door having been with them longer than any of the others, there hadn’t been many researchers successful in getting much information from it. What they had gathered so far was that it was hundreds, possibly thousands, of years old; it had casually mentioned how much it missed the ‘good old days’ when workers had been paid with beer, and their payslips had been carved in stone. But whilst it regaled in sharing tales that seemed often too far-fetched to be more than fantasy, the damn thing was notoriously secretive about most else. Still, they knew all too well what the oddity was capable of, and researchers were carefully screened for months before they were allowed their first meeting with Number One.

Door opening, please stand clear. Go get ‘em, tiger!

He jumped, holding his clipboard to his chest and gulping as the door slid back with a faint whine, a humid heat immediately hitting as his wide eyes took in the sight before him.

The room itself looked like the kind of sanctuary any teenage boy might dream of; a flat screen television taking up much of the further wall, every games console he could think of stacked up beneath it, a steering wheel sat directly in front of it. A drum set sat on a plush red rug, a set of speakers and a tower of cassettes beside it, and a beer chiller hummed contentedly in a corner of the room. It might have passed for some kind of bachelor pad, were it not for the huge collection of super hero merch that lined an entire wall. Somehow, that seemed like the most bizarre thing to him.

“Oi, Half ‘n’ Half,” came a low rough voice, making him jump for a second time. “Ain’t you late? And what the fuck is up with the sound system?”

The clipboard in his hand was in danger of being snapped in half, as his eyes landed on the sofa in the middle of the room, positioned to face the television. He could make out blond hair rocking from side to side, a muttered curse, and he took a deep breath.

“Uh, I’m sorry, but my name is Midoriya Izuku,” he said, voice sounding pathetically small in this huge room. “Todoroki isn’t available today.”

The head stopped rocking, and he heard an irritated tut.

“What a fucking loser,” the voice grunted out. “Anyway, the sound system? What’s all that about?”

“Huh- oh!” Izuku glanced back behind him, noticing that the door had already shut without him noticing. “Well, it’s… we got a new subject in. It seems to have affected our communication. Mostly harmless, that we can tell, it’s just quite enthusiastic.”

“Sounds like a fucking frat boy. I hate it. Sort it out.”

“We’re doing our best,” Izuku replied, before he blinked. As far as he understood it, he was the ranking superior in the room, in so much as it counted, not the oddity. Shit, he’d only been in the room thirty seconds and he already felt like he had to answer to the thing.

“I’ve come to ask you some questions,” Izuku said, voice louder and firmer, dropping his clipboard to his waist and staring directly at the back of the oddity’s head.

“Is that so?”

The blond spikes shifted, and next thing Izuku was staring into the eyes of a devil. His breath left his lungs, the air around them grew tighter, and burning red stared at him over high golden cheekbones. He had seen Number One before, of course, he had studied him for a long time before given the opportunity to meet him for real, but the photographs certainly did not give him a chance to prepare for how intense it was coming face-to-face. Aside from his red eyes, Number One wasn’t really extraordinary-looking; there weren’t any fangs dripping venom onto his chin, rams horns sticking out of his skull, and he didn’t have tentacles for fingernails. But, what he lacked in the fucking weird department, he made up for in intensity. Red eyes pinned Izuku to the spot, raking over him in a slow, uninterested fashion, suddenly filling Izuku with an alarming need to do something, anything, to impress him.

No, Izuku told himself firmly. Ignore it. Ask your questions, then get out.

“Yes,” Izuku said, clearing his throat. “Do you mind?”

Number One rose a single sharp brow. “Oi, you any good at Mario Kart.”

“Am I- uh… sorry, what?”

“Mario Kart, dickhead,” Number One said. “You good at it? Gets boring playing against myself all the damn time.”

“Uh… I’m not really here to play games,” Izuku replied. Number One glowered at him.

“Do I look like I care what you’re here for?” he said. “Tell you what, you play, and for every game you win I’ll answer one of your questions, how does that sound?”

“I-” Izuku faltered, clamping his mouth shut and plastering his tongue to the roof of his mouth. “No,” he said, slowly.

A wide smirk appeared on Number One’s face, sharp canines glittering and dangerous eyes dancing over his cheeks.

“Oh, so they already warned you about that, hah?” he asked. “Sure they did, you’ve had plenty training to get here, right?”

“We all do,” Izuku said curtly. “This is a professional facility, Number One.”

Izuku regretted speaking immediately. Number One was up and over the sofa before the words had even finished leaving his mouth, and all at once he was overwhelmed by the scent of burning sugar, and the heat coming from the body in front of him in waves.

“Then you’ll know I don’t let anyone call me that,” Number One growled, his lips drawn back to show off teeth that looked like they could crush bone, the red of his eyes burning like a flame. Izuku realised very quickly that he was entirely out of his depth, and his blood ran cold despite the furnace pressing into his personal space. He was not clueless; he’d been around more than enough creatures capable of killing him, in his lifetime. Before being awarded a role as a researcher, his job had involved travelling across the world researching disturbances and anomalies, and there had been more than a handful of close calls during that time. And yet, never before had he felt like he was in the presence of something far more powerful that a goddamn lightning storm, with ten times the pressure.

“Wh-what would you like me to call you?” Izuku said, forcing the words from his lips and willing his teeth not to start chattering. Frankly, he could only pray that he hadn’t pissed himself.

Number One continued standing over him for what felt like an eternity after that, filling Izuku’s vision with red, before he pulled away just as suddenly. Izuku blinked, letting out a shaky breath of relief as Number One leaned causally against the back of the sofa, shoving both his hands into the pockets of his black sweats.

“Would’a been nice to start with that, don’t you think?” Number One said. “You know, you extra’s have always got so much shit to say about me, but you got any idea how fucking rude you all are? What, you think this detached bullshit is gonna do a damn thing to stop any of the ghoulies here from scooping your eyes out your ears with their toenails? Pulling your kidneys out your ass and making you eat them? I fuckin’ doubt it.”

“That’s… horrible,” Izuku found himself saying.

Number One pulled a face, one side of his face screwed up and his head cocked to one side.

“Hah?”

A beat passed, and then Number One started to laugh; a loud, raucous, ugly sound that rattled about in Izuku’s brain.

“Fuck,” Number One said, grinning. “You ain’t wrong. Anyway, back to it. You’ve got ten seconds to give a better impression before I do something real inventive with my thumb and your spleen.”

Izuku yelped, eyes wide. “Wh- wait, hold on-”

“Seven seconds.”

“Wait!”

“Six.”

“Ok, ok, I’m sorry! My name is Midoriya, what should I call you?”

“There, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Number One replied, stepping forward and reaching out a hand to pat Izuku on the cheek. Izuku was prepared for the hand to be hot, but he wasn’t prepared for the sweet scent that came with it, putting Izuku in mind of the better days of his childhood, walking with candy floss in one hand and the hem of his mother’s cardigan in the other.

Shit, pull yourself together, Izuku!

“You probably can’t pronounce my actual name,” Number One continued, thrusting his hand back into his pocket, but still standing close. “But Bakugo Katsuki works in your language, don’t it?”

“Uh, Bakugo,” Izuku repeated, nodding. He wondered why no one had thought to fucking warn him about this. “Yes, it’s nice to meet you, Bakugo.”

“Nice for you maybe,” Bakugo replied with a shrug. “But I meet extra’s like you every fucking week. Just get your damn questions asked so I can ignore them and get back to my very busy schedule.”

Izuku might not have been warned about Bakugo’s aversion to being called ‘Number One’, but he had been warned that it was likely that he wouldn’t respond to any of Izuku’s questions. It had been that way for the last two decades since Bakugo had come to the facility; he refused to answer most of their questions, and the answers that he did offer were so cryptic as to be essentially useless to them. And it was frustrating, because so far as they knew Bakugo was the oldest of any of the entities here, arguably the most powerful, and they were certain that the sort of information he kept close to his chest could help them understand so much more about the darker, twisted parts of their world.

Izuku was not going to be just another researcher who failed to get information from him.

“You could just answer the questions,” he said, the words sounding far braver than he really felt. “Then we wouldn’t need to bother you so much.”

Surprise passed on Bakugo’s face, fleeting and quickly replaced by the indifferent pout that he wore so often, but surprise none-the-less.

“See, that’s where you’re wrong,” Bakugo replied, with a careless wave of his hand. “As soon as I start answering your questions you’ll just keep coming back with more and more. You think this is the first time that people have tried to trick me into responding? Come back when you’re worth my time.”

Bakugo pushed himself off the sofa, turning his back on Izuku as he made to sit back down again, and Izuku felt the panic rising in his chest. He knew how unlikely it was that Number One would actually speak with him, he’d been warned countless times that it was a possibility, but he hadn’t expected to be rejected from the oddity quite so soon into his first meeting. Izuku had trained for this! He had spent years of his life, sacrificed everything, just to get here, and just three minutes in he was being kicked out… He’d waited longer than that just to get through the fucking door! Izuku took a step forward, swallowing back the wad of spit forming in his throat.

“So, people have questioned you before?” he called, heart hammering. “Before this, the facility, I mean.”

Bakugo paused by the arm of the sofa, hands still in his pockets, and his head tilting back ever so slightly.

“Does this mean you’ve been held captive before now?” Izuku continued, chasing the moment, ignoring the voice in the back of his head that sounded all too much like his old mentor, telling him to step back.

“What makes you think I’m held captive now?” Bakugo replied, and the air around them changed. It was like the air simply stopped flowing, the humidity becoming thick like custard, a static forming beneath Izuku’s fingernails. But Izuku had no time to concern himself with that, his pulse thrumming, fighting back a triumphant grin.

“So, does that mean you’re here of your own free will?” he asked, tone spread tight as he tried to gain control over his emotions.

And then, Bakugo looked back over his shoulder, and Izuku couldn’t breathe again. Izuku had been thorough, watching back the tapes of previous interviews with Number One, had sat with his nose almost to the screen as he tracked and mapped each and every expression that passed over the oddity’s face. He felt he already knew Number One as well as he possibly could before he stepped in the room, and he was sure he had never seen a look such as the one Bakugo was giving him now, on his face before.

“Huh, you really think you have something there, don’chu? Little nerd.”

Those last words came out as a tease, Bakugo’s already low voice smoothing from gravely to silk, and Izuku felt less like he was wading through custard, so much as swimming through honey. And he ought to be exhausted; the resistance leaving his lungs aching and his arms quaking. But instead, he felt an exhilaration like he had rarely felt before, and once again he wanted nothing more than to impress the being standing before him.

This is dangerous.

The computer on his wrist seemed to agree.

Interview terminated, please get yo sweet ass back to command!

Izuku jumped at the sound, looking back at the portable device glowing softly on his left arm, before his senses were entirely overwhelmed. A scent sweet yet spicy, a warmth that stung his pores, and the very presence of Number One now standing directly in front of him again clouding all over senses. He looked up, hardly daring to breathe, as Number One towered over him, eyes focused and face close.

“Ain’t that a shame,” Bakugo said, and Izuku shivered. “Making a deal isn’t the only way for me to get into your head. Sure, it’s the easiest, but there are other ways that are much more fun for me. You wanna know what they are?”

Izuku nodded, his movements jerky, heart stopping when he felt the hot breath against his cheek.

“If you come back again tomorrow, I’ll tell you.”

“O-ok.”

The sound of shattering glass filled Izuku’s brain, and his eyes widened in horror. Bakugo smirked, mouth full of glittering white teeth.

“Off you go, little nerd.”

Bakugo turned away, throwing himself back onto the sofa without another word, a deep bassy tune filling the room as he switched on one of his consoles. Izuku backed away, entire body shaking, almost falling through the door as it swept open for him. He grabbed at his chest, the cool of the corridor feeling like biting ice compared to the tropical conditions inside of Bakugo’s cell, and his shoulder thudded against the far wall.

What had he done?

How had he been so careless?

So stupid?

He just about heard the sound of footsteps over the rushing of blood and static in his ears, and it took just about all his strength to look at the woman approaching him, her face scrunched up in concern.

“Deku? Hey, Izuku, what happened in there?”

Izuku shook his head, the movement making him dizzy, and his colleague reached out to steady him.

“Deku?” she repeated, leaning close, large brown eyes peering into his frantic orbs. “Hey, what-”

“I made a deal,” Izuku breathed back, and the world stood still again. “I made a deal with Number One.”