superhuman

FOURTEEN

There's a flash of red, and then it disappears - and there,
standing on the makeshift stage where Dallon had announced his threat no less than three days ago, is Blurryface. Covered in blood, dressed in black like a funeral; his eyes smolder an unforgiving rich red as his lips twist into a cold, bloodthirsty grin.

"Hello there."

Dallon's mouth is agape as he stares at the man in front of him, the one he thought dead for so long. His eyes drift upwards as his lips move in a silent prayer, asking desperately for some kind of rescue from a god that might not even exist, or have any pity on them, the wicked.

Blurryface's ink-covered arms spread as he regards the crowd, smiling coldly.

"Aren't you a beautiful bunch? So strange and different from the rest. Bunch of little freaks." He purrs, leaving the stage to walk around the dining hall, a trail of ink following his path.
"So, so beautiful." He grins, and Pete's heart stops for a second as he stops in front of Patrick, grabbing his chin and forcing him to look at him. "Almost too pretty to kill. What a shame, truly.." He drags two of his fingers lazily against Patrick's cheek, leaving twin streaks of black, contrasting terrifyingly against the pale marble of his skin. Patrick just clenches his jaw, staring evenly into the twin pits of fiery red, watching as they blaze and burn, like a war raging behind his eyes.

"Blurryface." There's a low voice as a too-tall, bat-winged man with long fangs and messy, over-grown hair enters, adjusting the black suit he's wearing. "It's time." He states in a voice that sounds like he's been inhaling gravel.

"Wonderful, thank you, William." Blurryface dismisses him quickly, "Ready the rest of the troops."
He flicks him away with a dismissive flick of his wrist, turning his attention back to Patrick.
"You may've killed Kevin, Patrick dearest," his voice is a low whisper and even from across the room Pete can hear his breathing pitch, "But you won't kill me."

He lets go of Patrick's face, staring at him for a few moments before striking his hard against the face. There's a loud, sharp, audible sound as Patrick's hands fly to tend to the burning feeling across his cheek.

"You lie and cheat to encourage liars and cheaters," He speaks to the entire compound now, his voice thick with discontent. "You murder to help murderers and you steal to help thieves." He turns to Dallon, who's watching with wide, terrifed eyes, and grabs him by the throat, lifting him off the ground as he kicks helplessly.

"Let him, your leader, be an example of what I do to liars, cheaters, murderers and thieves, like your kind." He tightens his grip, and Dallon's face goes an alarming shade of red, his lips a bright blue as he coughs hopelessly. Blurryface grins, wider than ever, revealing rows of unnaturally sharp teeth, as he draws a small sword from his sleeve, teasing it across Dallon's cheek before trailing it down the hand clenched around his throat, against his collarbones and chest, before stopping at the soft area between his stomach and ribcage.
With a soft whisper-yell of, "Goodnight!", he stabs it into the soft area, once, twice, three times, over and over as Dallon cries silently in pain, half alert, but on the way out.
"Crybaby." He scowls, messily rubbing his blood and ink-smeared hands over the teary smears across his face, streaking it in a messy painting against his pale cheeks, before letting him go, letting him slam painfully against the hard concrete of the floor.
Brendon scrambles towards his husband, tears pouring down his cheeks, choking out light sobs as Dallon lies in a pool of blood and bent limbs, unmoving, his chest absent of the staccato breaths it usually inhabited.

"Not quite. Wait your turn, or it'll be no fun." Blurryface pouts, his hand splaying against the air, moving Brendon all the way back.

"Actually... No. All of you get to play, now!" He claps excitedly, and Pete's startlingly reminded of Mikey; he squeezes his eyes shut, trying to will the memories away.

"William! Now, please, come on, I want to plaaay!" Blurryface stamps his foot, pouting like a child, and it's scarily like Mikey that Pete feels bile rise in the back of his throat, especially as William leads Mikey in - muzzled like a dog, hands bound, looking generally pretty miserable.

"This one's one of yours," Blurryface grins excitedly, "And I'm going to kill him! Yaaaay! How fun!"

Pete panics; Mikey may've attacked him, but he's one of them. He flicks Patrick a quick message, hoping Blurryface can't hear; Patrick turns, and nods.

Just as Blurryface raises the blade against Mikey's throat, Patrick dives, pulling Blurryface to the floor. It's seemingly everyone else's cue to attack on both sides; Blurryface's forces pour in on all sides, and Pete sees twenty different people from his side pouncing and attacking.

A huge hand grabs Pete from the back; legs kicking, screaming, Pete blindly grabs his knife and stabs wildly, hoping desperately that it'll meet warm, wet flesh. He's slammed into the wall so hard that he feels his shoulder bones crack, along with the wall behind him. The guy has one huge, crystal blue eye and razor-sharp teeth, like a shark. Pete snarls, and with his better arm, stabs the dagger into the guy's eye. He lets out a howl of pain, letting go of Pete to grab his bleeding eye; Pete uses this time to stab him twice in the chest - blood sprays all across his face, neck and chest as the guy lets out a keening screech with his last breath. Pete stamps on his head for one last measure - just in case the guy makes it through all that - before pulling out his knives and scanning the room for more enemies to destroy.

Patrick and Blurryface are still wrestling on the floor, exchanging punches and swipes. Blurryface pushes him off angrily, shoving him away the same way he sent Brendon away; Patrick snarls, spitting out a mouthful of blood at him before moving away, recognising Blurryface's surrender - they're too equally matched for there to be a real battle, which is all Blurryface really wants.

Patrick instead goes for Mikey; Pete can't bear to watch them, instead feeling like a coward hiding behind the rubble of the crushed wall behind him.

To his utter horror and surprise, Josh - the blind nurse, with the chirp thing - arrives, looking disheveled and almost eretheal or otherworldly. He stands in front of Blurryface, quiet like a fire, and Blurryface just stares back, his brain flurrying to make sense of things.

"Tyler," Pete hears him whisper, hand brushing down one of his cheeks, and Blurryface - Tyler - stumbles back like he's been slapped. His glowing, red eyes flutter closed, before opening a rich, warm brown, so foreign on his face.

The spear sinking through Josh's stomach really ruins the effect.

Josh sinks to his knees, gasping as his hands blindly grab for the wound. He's bleeding so much and so fast that he's destined to die - Tyler holds him in his arms, and Pete can see his trembling shoulders as he wracks out loud sobs.
Pete watches as Josh, with trembling hands, using the last of his energy, dips his fingertips into the stomach wound, raising his fingers to Tyler's cheek; with the last burst of energy, he sloppily paints a lopsided heart on his cheekbone, before his hand goes lax and he takes his final pant of air.

"Nononononono, Josh, please," He wheezes, sobbing weakly; Pete takes careful, slow steps towards him, holding his hands up in a comforting, calm gesture.

"Just kill me, if you're planning on it." He spits out; his eyes are still brown, however they're too sad to flick back. The monster, Blurryface, is dead - the real Tyler Joseph is finally here.. and he wants to be killed.
"Josh was the only thing I wanted and now he's dead. I don't have things left to live for, so please, just kill me."

Pete's merciful, and stabs him quick and fast; he bleeds out in a pile of limbs on top of Josh, and whispers him a thank you with his dying breath.

One they realize their leader's dead, most of Blurryface's forces retreat, escaping quick and fast out of any edit possible, leaving only Pete's friends and corpses from both sides.

"Patrick!"

Pete's indignant about finding his boyfriend; he doesn't know what he'll do if the love of his life is dead. He can barely stomach the idea, let alone the reality.

"Pete! Pete, baby, where are you!?"
Patrick's in a frenzy, and as soon as their eyes meet, he's practically sprinting towards him, pulling him close. They're both blood-soaked and stink of stale sweat and thick, metallic blood, but their tight embrace doesn't budge as Patrick sobs relief into his shoulder, and yeah, he's sure this is meant to be.