♯001| 𝐒𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐞.• stop looking at him.

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─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽───
❝Don't look at him.❞
────── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽──────

・ 。゚☆: *

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・ 。゚☆: *.☽
Eye contact. Something that requires no words exchanged.
Nothing more and nothing less than just 2 people, gazing at each other with unknown thoughts running freely.
・ 。゚☆: *.☽

!tw: mentions of blood, electrocution, throat grabbing, violence(?)!

The 11 Fatui harbingers. All known for their mischievous schemes to tackle anything the Tsarista desired. They were willing to do anything. No feelings or strings attached whatsoever towards their tasks.

Yet today, was different for once.

The sound of electricity cackled and echoed within the room. The sound of high pitched screams pierced through the chamber. Nothing but pure violet static and light powered throughout the dark room. It was like a lightning storm all in one, a deadly sight to behold.

"Tell me who took it. Right this instant. Or else. No more games." he spat, a vile venomous tone underlying his voice.

The stern look in his violet eyes pierced into the perpetrator's. It was the type of glare that could pierce through someone's heart.

His hand tightened around the throat, channeling electricity down the body. Static began to echo in the room, leaving loud sparks and even louder screams to be heard.

Electrocution.

The body he gripped onto was losing it's life slowly. His eyes fading away in colour, the vision he once saw becoming nothing more than a blur. His skin displayed cuts and burns, he had endured it for long enough.

"Y/n... took it-" He slurred, tears welled in his eyes, his body numb and shaking in pain from the electrocutions he endured. That was it. All he had left within him. 3 words. The hours upon hours of constant electric shock had finally ceased. Freedom at last. Though was that the truth?

A sadistic smirk formed on the brim of Scaramouche's lips. The answer he was waiting for. It was a shame he had to get his hands dirty. The electricity stopped slowly, the crackling sound fading away.

"Tsk, thieves." he muttered.

A loud thunk sounded in the room. The lifeless body of the accomplice laid passed out on the ground.

Scaramouche simply dismissed the matter with a single flick of his wrist, turning away. His nose scrunched up, his head towards the ceiling strutting away from the scene. The trinkets of his hat shifting from side to side as he strode out the chamber.

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