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skyloftian-nutcase · 11 months

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Malice (Dad Squad)

Fair warning, this does have TotK content but none of it is spoilers. It's all literally stuff from the trailer. But anyway, I had fun writing it. :)

The lurch was absolutely nauseating.

Rusl shivered on his hands and knees, dizzy and disoriented and so unbelievably ill. He'd never been pulled in so many directions at once at such an unimaginable speed. He could barely make out his surroundings, having been torn from the jungle where they'd been wandering.

Taking steadying breaths, Rusl kept his eyes squeezed shut to reorient and not throw up. He remained stiff, not daring to move until the wave of nausea had passed. As his mind slowly stopped spinning,

The grass beneath him was damp, littered with little stones, which was the first thing he noticed. The stones felt... unnaturally shaped. Running a finger along it, he felt the curved edges, the too straight lines framing it.

Cobblestone. Cobblestone with grass growing through it, so withered and worn it was barely there anymore.

More ruins?

Exhaling, Rusl slowly opened his eyes. It was a dismally dark day, wherever they were. Storm clouds brooded overhead, he could tell by the lighting and the damp. Beside him, Abel was laying on the ground staring up at the sky, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. The Fierce Deity was crouched just a pace away from the pair, apparently reorienting faster.

Rusl wasn't surprised.

The Ordonian leaned back on his knees and feet, a trembling hand reaching for Abel's shoulder. "Are you alright?"

"Headache," Abel muttered before sitting up. "I'll be fine. But..."

The Fierce Deity rose to his full height, helping Rusl to his feet. The blacksmith stumbled a little, dizzy at the speed at which the deity lifted him up.

Rusl's companion opened his eyes, glancing around before gasping. "This is--this is just outside of Castle Town! How did--did that item bring us here?"

This was Castle Town?

Rusl looked around again, horrified to see the ruined remains of what should have been a sprawling city. He'd seen pieces of ruins, leftover outposts, a destroyed wagon here and there, but nothing of this magnitude.

Spirits above. He swallowed, suddenly thankful that the Twili invasion hadn't reached this level of destruction.

"But how did we--?" Abel cut himself off abruptly, and Rusl was about to ask what was wrong when he noticed it too.

What was that aura? Why was there ominous mist emitting from all around them, oozing out of the ground like steam from a boiling lake?

The Fierce Deity hissed, collapsing to the ground, a hand clutched to his face.

"Fierce...?" both men made their way to him, hands hovering over him uncertainly.

The deity was trembling, in obvious pain with his sharp teeth bared and eyes glaring into the earth. His hand on his face slid up to his hair, fingers curling around it in a desperate attempt to alleviate whatever was wrong.

"What's wrong?" Abel asked.

Fierce curled in farther, shriveling from their attempts to touch him. "It's the mask."

"What mask?" Rusl questioned.

As the Ordonian tried to figure out what in the blazes was happening, Abel's eyes roamed forward towards the city, and beyond it, to the castle.

"This mist..." he muttered. "It's the same as..."

Rusl looked between Abel and the Fierce Deity, wondering what in the world was happening and how they could fix this. "We need to get him out of here."

"Kill him." Fierce suddenly snarled, pulling away when Rusl tried to reach for his shoulder. "I'll be fine. Get him."

"Who? Who are you talking about?" Rusl asked, growing far more nervous than he cared to feel. He was usually fairly adaptable and had seen so many things that had little explanation in his life, but seeing a war god writhing in pain was beyond unsettling, particularly since he was his friend.

Abel rose, eyes dark. "It can't be..."

Rusl was clearly missing something, a connection that both of his companions had made. Nevertheless, the priority was to help the Fierce Deity, not worry about whoever they were talking about.

Abel clearly didn't seem to understand that, gripping his sword with enough ferocity to make his knuckles white. He marched ahead.

"Abel, what are you doing?" Rusl called. "We have to get Fierce out of here!"

When he got no response from the world weary traveler, he looked back at the deity, who insisted through gritted teeth, "Go with him. I'll be fine."

He looked distinctly not fine, but watching Abel walk into a heavier dark mist made Rusl equally unsettled. The Ordonian sighed. "Get away from here. Find somewhere safe to lay low. I can help you--"

"No," Fierce hissed. "I do not require help. Abel does."

"Fierce--"

"I will retreat as instructed," the deity acquiesced shakily. "But help him."

Abel had almost vanished into the darkness. Rusl bit his tongue, standing stiffly, filled with dread and annoyance. "Fine."

Drawing his blade, he hurried after the former knight, feeling cold dread sink into his bones the closer to the castle he got.

Abel's world was a desolate place, filled with mausoleums for villages, but this place had to be the pinnacle of it all. Rusl didn't want to get any closer. Had those guardian creatures really caused such destruction?

Despite his misgivings, the Ordonian did manage to catch up to Abel, who was slowly descending a stairway into the damp depths beneath the castle.

"I don't understand," Abel said softly as Rusl approached. "There are no guardians here. There's... no sign of anything."

"I'd say this mist is a pretty clear sign," Rusl pointed out, grabbing Abel by the wrist. "As is our friend's ailment. We should go back to him. There's something wrong about this place."

Abel pulled out of Rusl's grip sharply. "I know. It..."

The two men stared at the dark abyss below. Abel's face glowed with equal parts determination and dread. He was just as scared as Rusl, but rather than listening to his gut instinct, he ventured forward.

Rusl sighed. This man was beginning to remind him of Link.

Rusl had been to many a place that gave unnerving auras, but that had always been milder sensations. A feeling of being watched, an innate sense of danger to the area that would linger near dungeons. This... this was something entirely different.

This, for lack of a better word, felt demonic.

Pulling out a lantern, Rusl lit the wick and glanced at his companion. "If you're insistent, we should at least have a means of seeing where we're going."

Abel nodded in thanks before continuing. Rusl sighed and followed him down the stairs.

The farther they went, the sicker Rusl felt. He broke into a cold sweat, shivers racking his body. He'd never had such a visceral reaction to anything - even the Twili barriers that infected his world, despite their wrongness, hadn't made him physically ill. They'd felt more like the sensation of being in the dark, an overbearing heaviness and fear of the unknown, whereas this felt like a violation of body, mind, and soul.

He honestly didn't know how Abel wasn't at least reacting to it. Even the Fierce Deity had been affected. It had crippled him.

Spirits. It had crippled a war god. What were they doing down here?!

"Abel," Rusl tried again. "We should go back."

"What happened to your cheer for exploration?" Abel asked in a monotone, not really asking so much as distractedly challenging. He was far more focused on what was ahead than his companion behind him.

"I have a sense of self preservation," Rusl replied. "We don't know what we're walking into."

"It's like the Calamity," Abel muttered, more to himself than to Rusl. "But it's... I don't understand."

"The Calamity?" Rusl repeated. "The destruction of your land?"

"The Calamity isn't just an event, it's a monster," Abel explained, walking ahead despite his ominous words.

"So... we're walking towards the monster that destroyed the entirety of Hyrule," Rusl supposed with a raised eyebrow, continuing to follow his friend.

Abel huffed, stepping hesitantly as they seemed to reach the bottom of the stairway. "I don't hear any guardians yet."

"Those aren't the Calamity?"

"No. The Calamity used the guardians."

Rusl looked around warily, lantern raised. "So we're potentially looking for a beast that is stronger than guardians. And a single guardian can annihilate both of us."

Abel's shoulders stiffened, and he shook his head. "Dammit, Rusl, I don't know. This... this mist surrounded the capital on the eve of the Calamity. But... then the Calamity happened. Nothing is happening here, except that our companion is falling ill because of it."

"We should be trying to help him," Rusl reasoned.

Abel turned sharply. "This is me helping. He... he said..."

"He said kill him," Rusl repeated, a little disturbed at the words.

Abel grew very still and silent.

"Do you really think we can defeat something that is incapacitating a war god?" Rusl asked solemnly, trying to get through to the knight. "I had an entire resistance to assist me in my journey to save Hyrule, and inevitably it was Link who did the most work."

"Yes. Link. A child." Abel hissed. "We left the fate of our nation in the hands of children and expected them to--"

There was the sound of a foot scuffing on a rock and both men immediately froze. It came from somewhere ahead, vague and distant and bouncing in the chilly air, steadily making its path to them. It moved rhythmically, steps on stone, growing ever quieter.

Someone else was down here.

Someone else was down here and they were walking further into the abyss.

Abel stepped forward, sword at the ready. Rusl followed, armed and on edge.

Who else was down here? Had they heard the two men arguing? Was it just Rusl, or was the mist getting thicker?

The pair walked through some unusual corridors, and though Rusl's lamplight wasn't the best, he could make out odd shapes and figures in the stone. Abel glanced at it in passing, noting it and moving ahead. Neither man spoke at this point, ears peeled for any indication that they had caught up to whoever else was down here.

For such a foreboding place, there was certainly a strange lack of monsters. Rusl didn't know if he should find that reassuring or not.

Finally, the two men descended further and emerged into a large underground cavern of sorts. A strange light shone ahead, dulling Rusl's lamplight to that of a mere stub of a candle. The pair paused, uncertain and leery. Rusl's eyes settled on a strange swirling pattern of light that emitted from a... severed arm? The arm was perched on a half rotted corpse, almost as if it were pushing the corpse to the ground.

As if this place couldn't get any creepier.

Notably, though, Rusl's eyes caught movement. Up by the mummified body were two other figures, their voices lost in the echoes of the large space. All he could make out was that one was a female and one was a male. The male had a sword with an uncomfortably familiar shape to its hilt.

Rusl squinted in the darkness. It was hard to tell from here, but something about the swordsman's blade... he tried to focus more on it but couldn't, not at that distance with the dim light. The Ordonian turned to his companion and saw Abel transfixed at the sight.

"Is... this the Calamity?" he whispered. Was the foe already defeated? Was it trying to recuperate its strength? Who were the two in front of it?

Abel didn't answer. Voices grew louder, a strange sound emitted from ahead of them, and Rusl jumped, turning to look at the scene ahead of him to find that the corpse was moving.

There was a flash of light and the entire room shook. Rusl grabbed on to Abel's arm, pushing both of them against the wall to brace themselves as the entire place seemed to crumble in a flash of red, hellish light.

Abel dove forward, and Rusl yelped, pulling him back and trying to fight his vicious energy.

Abel was frantic; he didn't even seem to notice Rusl was there anymore. Instead, a scream tore out of his throat, desperate and pleading and terrified.

"LINK!"

The ceiling collapsed, and they were sealed into darkness.

#this doesn't have to be dad squad canon #if there even is such a thing lol #I'm just obsessing over totk because I've been playing it #and I do what I want XD #I'm gonna use the prologue music for a scene in Elastic Heart and it's gonna be sooooooo fun #nothing totk related at all to it I just want the foreboding and creepy vibes #anyway #Dad Squad #writing #oooo if only I could draw their expressions guys because they are CREEPED OUT #and Abel is Going Through Things #the amount of dread in this man's body is off the charts #usually Rusl is the explorer and Abel is the reluctant one following but the tables have turned here #Abel has an eery familiar gut sinking feeling #wants to run as far as he can but also needs to know if this is what he thinks it is #needs to know if he can prevent it from taking someone else he cares about #fully aware that he can't kill it #but willing to investigate anyway while every fiber of his being is screaming at him #and poor Rusl just has no idea what's happening

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ziptiesnfries · 9 months

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The Interrogation, part 2

part 1 - tag list: @gala1981 - Roux & Ambrose masterpost

CWs: water torture, manhandling, previously broken finger, creepy/intimate whumper, minor character death, blood, knives

Roux gasps and splutters as the interrogator yanks their head out of the icy water. Immediately, they start coughing, water pouring out of their mouth. Once they’re able to drag in a full breath, they start, “I t-told you—I told you everything I know—”

After Ambrose left, the interrogator came back with a metal tub, and Roux had finally cracked. The details of the job they’d been given spilled from their lips, a desperate attempt at avoiding further pain.

In the end, it didn’t matter. Even after they talked, the interrogator dragged them to the tub and pushed them under. Over, and over, and over.

The interrogator drops them. With their hands tied behind their back, they’re in no position to catch themself, and they wince as the edge of the tub smacks their ribs. They can hear the indifferent shrug in the interrogator’s voice as he says, “Boss said to dunk you anyway.”

“Why?” they demand. Why would Ambrose want them to keep getting tortured if not for information? Punishment?

They try to struggle upright, but the interrogator keeps a firm grip on the back of their neck. Again, his voice is indifferent. “Not my business.” Then he shoves them back under.

It’s getting harder and harder to hold their breath long enough, and they start inhaling water a moment before the torturer lets them up again. They lean against the edge of the tub and shiver as they hack up what they just swallowed. Water drips down their shoulders, soaking their shirt. It didn’t feel cold in here before, but suddenly it’s like the AC is on full blast. They wonder if that’s something else Ambrose ordered.

Finally, the interrogator sighs, releasing his grip. “I think that’s enough,” he mutters. “It better be, anyway.” Roux feels pathetically grateful as his footsteps recede, relieved to hear the door shut behind him.

They try to shuffle away from the tub, but they lose their balance and land in the cold puddle next to it. Their shoulder hits the floor, the movement jostling their broken finger. Shit.

Roux squeezes their eyes shut and takes a deep, shuddering breath, wishing their team would just show up and rescue them already. How long have they been here? It’s hard to tell—it feels like a long time. Interrogations never feel short, even when they are. But this hardly counts as an interrogation anymore.

They startle as the door opens again, and they find the energy to struggle up to their knees. What now? they wonder desperately. Did the interrogator change his mind? They don’t think they can survive more waterboarding.

But when they finally get themself upright, they see Ambrose approaching. Dread fills their stomach as he grins at them. “Aw, look at you—you’re soaked.”

“Fuck you!” Roux snaps. The sudden effort triggers a coughing fit, and they double over, trying not to lose their balance. Ambrose patiently waits for them to finish, quiet as they straighten up and glare at him. “I told him everything you need to know—”

“I know.” He crouches down, and they realize he’s holding a towel under his arm. “Thank you for that, sweetheart, I really appreciate it. I thought you might want to be dried off.”

They narrow their eyes, trying to figure out what kind of sick game he’s playing. “I’m fine,” they mutter. They’re still shivering, kneeling in a puddle of cold water, but whatever he’s offering, they don’t want it.

“Oh, come on, you must be freezing.” He drapes the towel around their shoulders, rubbing it up and down their arms.

They flinch away. “Don’t touch me—ah, fuck!” Their back hits the tub, and their broken finger pushes up against it. They lurch away—and right into Ambrose’s waiting arms.

For a moment, they’re so startled that they can’t even move. He wraps his arms around them, pulling them into his lap, and suddenly their head is pressed against his chest as he rubs their back. “Shh, it’s okay,” he murmurs. “Oh, you’re even lighter than I thought you were …”

Their face flushes a deep red. “What the hell are you doing?” they hiss. “Let go of me!”

“Aw, but you’re just so cute like—ow!” His jaw snaps shut as they headbutt him in the chin. They only get a small moment of satisfaction before he yanks their hair back, glaring at them sternly, the same way he might scold a dog. “Hey. Don’t be like that, sweetheart; I’m trying to help you.”

They scowl back at him, still uncomfortably aware that they’re sitting in his lap. “What the fuck?” they demand. “Are you—” Their stomach twists. “Are you trying to flirt with me or something?”

For a moment, he looks confused. Then he starts laughing—a deep, full laugh, like that’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard. “Oh, no, no, of course not. That would be like—like flirting with a teddy bear. Or a puppy.”

Their face gets even redder, their thoughts going from relieved to offended. They get the urge to headbutt him again, but he’s still gripping their hair, keeping them from moving. “I’m a fucking adult, first of all,” they snap. They’re certainly mature enough to handle romance—they just don’t want it from him.

“Oh, I know.” He grins at them fondly, and their skin crawls as his fingers scratch against their scalp. “But you’re so adorable.”

Usually, when people call them cute, Roux either brushes it off or takes advantage. After all, it’s easier to be a criminal for hire when no one expects it—and, being under five feet tall, most people expect some kind of sweet, innocent demeanor from them. Roux works with it. But here, wrapped up in Ambrose’s arms, being seen as cute is starting to feel like a serious liability.

Roux shoves their shoulder against Ambrose’s chest, but it doesn’t seem to have any effect on him. “You’re a creep,” they mutter, wishing their hands were free so they could punch that stupid grin off his face. “Let go of me!”

But the stupid grin remains, and he continues rubbing the towel up and down their arms, keeping a tight grip on them. “If you keep squirming, I’ll dunk you in the tub,” he murmurs. “Then you’ll be really cold.” He looks pleased by the idea, like he’d love to see them shiver harder.

The same thought Roux had about him earlier floats up in the back of their mind: What a goddamn freak. What’s wrong with him?

Despite the threat, and despite their violent shivering, they can’t bring themself to stop squirming. They hate having his hands on them, and he seems like he’s getting annoyed with it. “Can’t you just sit still?” he mutters.

“No. Fuck off.”

He sighs, and their stomach drops as he hooks an arm under their legs and picks them up. “Well, the tub it is, then.”

“Wait!” they gasp. “Wait, no, I—” But he’s only a step away from the tub, and before they can protest further, he dumps them in.

Suddenly they’re submerged in icy water, soaking the rest of their clothes, sloshing into their boots. They gasp at the shock of it, open-mouthed as they stare up into Ambrose’s grinning face. “I warned you.”

A violent shiver runs through them as the cold sets in. “You fucking bastard.” They lean against the side of the tub, awkwardly scooting into a sitting position so they’re not so submerged. Not that it helps; they’re soaked all the way through, and not even Ambrose’s flimsy towel could do anything about it now.

Ambrose opens his mouth—but he’s cut off by a distant banging noise. His grin disappears. He narrows his eyes as he glances at the door. “I’ll be back.”

He leaves them alone, and it’s a relief not to have him watching as they struggle to their feet. Their legs tremble with the cold as they step out of the tub, dripping water all over the floor. The towel, which was still wrapped around them when Ambrose dumped them in the water, sinks to the bottom of the tub. It probably wouldn’t do them much good with their hands still tied, but it would be nice to have something to dry off with.

The noises outside are getting louder, and Roux lets themself feel a weary sense of hope. Sure enough, when the door bangs open, a familiar figure grins at them through a black ski mask, and relief floods through them. “Roux!” Cruz exclaims. Then his face falls as he takes in their condition, hurrying over to them. “Shit. Are you okay?”

Roux lets their shoulders relax, even though they’re still shivering. “I’m fine,” they say, even though it’s not strictly true. They turn around as Cruz pulls out his knife to cut their hands free. “How long was I …?”

Cruz saws through the rope quickly. “We lost contact for four hours.” Four hours? It felt like longer than that. “This place was higher security than the client let on—no wonder you got caught.” He shakes his head, like he has a longer rant in store about the client. Roux gets the feeling that whoever hired them is getting charged full price, despite the fact that Roux didn’t get the files they were sent here for. “Anyway,” Cruz continues, “don’t give me that ‘I’m fine’ bullshit. You got tortured.”

The torture wasn’t even the worst part, but Roux keeps their mouth shut. Thinking about how Ambrose acts around them sends a chill down their spine that has nothing to do with the cold, and all they want is to go home and forget about it. “Let’s just get out of here.”

Cruz gives them a look that says they’ll be discussing this later—a conversation they’re already dreading. But, for now, he just squeezes their shoulder and pockets his knife. “Right, let’s go.”

The scent of blood hits Roux as they step out into the hallway, making them slightly queasy. A familiar black-clad figure wipes her bloodstained knife on her pants. “Hallway’s clear,” Violet announces, casually stepping over a body. The face is turned away, but Roux is pretty sure it’s the guy who waterboarded them. Roux has never been quite comfortable with killing—it’s more Violet’s department than theirs—but they feel a sick sense of satisfaction that their torturer is dead now.

They don’t have time to feel guilty about it, though; they have a more pressing question. “Did you happen to see a tall, blond guy in a suit?” they ask Violet.

The same part of them that’s relieved to see the torturer dead is hoping she’ll say, Yep, the body’s just around the corner, wanna see? Roux isn’t usually one to wish death on others, but Ambrose was … unsettling. More than that—he was creepy, and it was laser-focused on them. They wouldn’t mind being rid of him for good.

But Violet shakes her head. “Nope, no one like that. We should go, before reinforcements show up.”

Roux tries to hide their disappointment, ignoring the way Cruz raises an eyebrow at them. “Right, yeah, let’s go.”

Violet leads the way, hopping over the scattering of dead bodies she left in her wake. Usually, Roux would feel a little more nauseated by that—they love Vi; they’ve never quite gotten used to her penchant for killing, though—but they’re distracted by the thought that neither Cruz nor Violet have seen Ambrose. Did he see the carnage and decide to bolt? Roux hopes so, because they can’t stomach the thought that he’s still lurking around here somewhere, waiting to pounce.

Relief washes over Roux when the team finally bursts out into the cool, early morning air, and Cruz hurries them toward the van. Roux collapses on their knees inside, and as soon as Cruz and Violet shut the doors, the van lurches into motion.

Lyon is in the driver’s seat, maneuvering away from Ambrose’s building as quickly as he can. “Status?” he asks, his voice tight with worry.

“Walking; breathing,” Roux replies, slumping against the wall.

Cruz rolls his eyes as he pulls off his ski mask. “They’ve got a broken finger, some blood on their face, and they got waterboarded.”

Lyon inhales sharply, his hands tightening on the steering wheel. “Jesus.”

Violet pulls off her mask, too, shaking out her long, purple hair. “I killed four guards—that’s as many as we saw. No sign of whoever was in charge.”

Roux’s chest tightens as Cruz turns his gaze on them. “Did you happen to find out who was in charge?”

They manage to keep a poker face as they nod. “He said his name was Ambrose Lacrosse. Tall, blond guy.” A real fuckin’ creep, they add in their head.

Lyon thinks for a moment, then shakes his head. “I’ve never heard of him. That doesn’t mean he’s not dangerous, though.” His voice hardens. “I’ll have to chat with our client, because if they knew he was this dangerous and sent us after his stuff anyway …” His voice trails off, and he lets out another aggravated sigh before his eyes flicker over to the rearview mirror. “You okay, Roux?”

“I’ll recover.” And they will—physically, at least. They’ve had worse injuries than this before.

“We’ll have Sonny check you out when we get back,” Lyon says, referring to the team medic. “No more missions until they clear you.” Roux bites back a groan—they should’ve expected some recovery time, but they hate being idle. They briefly meet Lyon’s eyes in the rearview mirror, and his gaze softens. “I’m sorry this happened. I never would’ve sent you if I’d known …”

They wave a hand. “It’s not your fault.”

Cruz slides to the ground next to them and wraps an arm around their shoulders, despite the fact that they’re still soaking wet. “We’re just glad to have you back in one piece.”

They sigh, leaning into his warmth, and their anxiety about Ambrose melts away. Right now, they’re safe with their team, and that’s all that matters.

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