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quickhacked · 2 years

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my liege what abt "rampage" with either vitali or vincent,,,,,,,

RAMPAGE [x] chapter >> 3 [x] characters >> vincent mayer (oc), vitali dobrynin (oc), [redacted] total >> 4.4k words (SORRY) warnings >> blood, brief mention of attempted sexual assault, injuries, torture mention, violence

‘Checkmate.’

It was dark.

Vincent lay unmoving, arms hooked in an uncomfortable angle behind his back. His head felt heavy; a dull, constant thrumming filled his ears and numbed his brain, putting painful pressure on the back of his eyes to the point he feared they could pop out of his skull at any given moment.

Checkmate.

God, he had been stupid- naive, but most of all stupid, believing Dupoint would let him walk. He should have known- he could have known, from the moment his gaze had caught that of the Frenchman- whatever was going to happen would not end well for him.

A quiet whimper left Vincent’s throat as he tried to move and he sank back onto the floor, unable to push himself up against the wall. His muscles were stiff, exhausted from the pain he’d had to endure, and each tiny move felt like the equivalent of a sharp knife carving away at his skin and flesh.

He had won. Of course he had. It had seemed dumb to him, even- why a game of chess, of all possibilities? But it did not matter. What mattered is he had won, which had meant his friends would get to walk away- with all limbs attached- and so would he.

Checkmate.

But of course Dupoint had refused to give him that satisfaction.

Vincent's stomach turned as the events of a few days before flooded back into his mind, a tidal wave of memories slamming itself violently into the inside of his skull.

‘Let them go. You can keep me- I don’t care, just- Please, let them go.’

Tears burned into the corners of his eyes. He had meant it. Of course he had. All he wanted was for his friends to be safe, to be as far away from that place as possible, and- well, rules are rules. Someone like Ravager would not understand- but Dupoint had to.

So he had let them go. A consolation prize, even though Vincent had won fair and square- but he had accepted it anyway, knowing the only alternative left at the time was far worse than what would have happened if he had lost.

And they had fought- had tried to, at least. They had screamed and begged Dupoint to let Vincent leave with them, and Ravager had needed to call in extra forces to remove all of them from the premises without anyone getting severely hurt.

Vincent squeezed his eyes shut when he remembered Vitali- kicking and screaming, held back by at least five men- perhaps six, or seven- and still nearly managing to escape their grasp; how he had tried to lunge at Dupoint, a bright fury in his eyes Vincent had never seen in them before, how he had sworn to come back- I’ll come back for you, душа моя, if it’s the last thing I do- and how he had warned for the violent rampage he would unleash on them once he would find his way back inside-

A quiet sob left Vincent’s throat.

It had been days. And he was terrified.

A sudden alarm cut through the deafening silence, blaring and echoing through the room and causing Vincent to bolt up; his body protested at the unexpected move and he winced in pain, muscles cramping up and the heavy thudding of his heartbeat rapidly filling his head. He sobbed again and crawled backwards, until his back hit solid wall- only then he noticed the sharp, cutting pain in his wrists, caused by the ziplock ties keeping them together.

Even now that his eyes had gotten plenty of time to adjust to the deep void surrounding him, not much had changed- either a room deprived from light entirely, or the horrifying possibility of Vincent’s eyesight no longer being with him.

He pulled his legs closer to his chest and pushed his head down onto his knees, the overwhelming noise burning through his skull- it hurt, and the longer it went on the louder it seemed to become, flooding the space around him until it felt like he was drowning, unable to keep his head above water-

Christ, V. Pull yourself together.

It wasn’t the first time Vincent had had to endure torture. Certainly not the last time either- it was something to be expected in his line of work, especially as someone prone to being captured by the enemy. An occurrence that happened to him, every now and then. A lot more often than he was willing to admit.

Though this was different. This was personal- Dupoint’s little power fantasy, starring no one other than himself, Vincent, and each and every single fucked up tool in Night City he had managed to get his hands on.

Still, Vincent endured. He had a decent pain tolerance, and was able to zone out on command in nearly every situation if desired- though the longer it went on, the wearier he became and the more he struggled holding himself together, and he feared he was going to have to rely on himself alone if he ever wished to see sunlight once again.

Similar to the alarm cutting through the silence, a sudden beam of light broke up the dark and nearly blinded Vincent- he squeezed his eyes shut and winced again, partially relieved he could still see, but most of all terrified of whoever had entered the room.

‘Alright, pretty boy- get up.’

A strong hand grabbed his upper arm and dragged him to his feet, giving him no time to adjust; a familiar voice, though all but the good kind of familiar, and Vincent struggled briefly as he tried to pull himself out of the grip of Ravager’s right hand man.

‘Relocating the merc to sector C-6.’

A second voice- female, unfamiliar. She sounded on edge, voice slightly unstable as she continued to exchange some words with whoever was on the other end of the comms.

The alarms were nothing new. A scare tactic- effective at that, but common enough for Vincent to have grown accustomed to it; though his earlier anxiety was entirely replaced by alertness, now, as it finally dawned on him something serious was going on inside Ravager’s facility.

Perhaps-?

‘Ready?’

Vincent blinked and lifted his head; he quickly realized the woman had not spoken to him, but instead looked expectantly at the man still holding on to Vincent’s arm, her jaw tightly clenched and her eyes restlessly darting around, scanning the man’s features as she waited for an answer.

Silence followed- a nearly agonizing hesitation, somehow frighteningly similar to the brief moments before combat Vincent sometimes shared with his friends, including the reluctant looks painted on their faces as they slowly realized it could easily be one of the last times they would look at each other-

Fuck- for your sake, I hope it is.

They left the room.

Vincent squinted as he was pushed into the hallway, the bright light causing his headache to flare up again. He was dragged through the hallway at a brisk pace; his legs could barely keep up, though he forced himself to continue, knowing whatever would happen to him were he to collapse to the floor would not be good.

He recognized the hallways. He had been there before- three times, to be exact, each a different occasion though all for the same reasons.

He had not been the first to end up in Ravager’s captivity, unfortunately; had managed to meet the same fate as Mikhail- ironically enough while on a path of revenge for what Ravager’s people had done, and had tried to do, to his friend- and had then been forced to deal with the consequences.

Dupoint was a new player, however- a somewhat unexpected turn of events. An important asset; though still merely a pawn in the game the Broker was trying to play with them. Like chess, almost- though Vincent was unsure if his opponent was still playing by the rules.

Something about it all felt wrong, somehow. For Ravager, it was the eddies; for Dupoint, it was personal, a burning hatred for Vincent over something that had happened long enough ago he had honestly already forgotten about it. But the Broker- what was in it for him?

The rook, the bishop, the king.

Who sat at the top? Who was looking down on them from their throne of bones and corpses, watching their every move, hunting them down like prey?

And why- Most of all, why-

Why a fucking game of chess?

Vincent clenched his jaw as he was yanked forward, his pace clearly too slow for his escort’s liking. The further they had walked, the busier the hallways had become- people gathering, yelling at each other, readying their weapons and putting on whatever makeshift armor they could find.

‘They started a fire in the lower levels,’ the woman suddenly said, slightly raising her voice to be able to carry it over the chaos surrounding them. ‘Partial lockdown’s been initiated to-’ A clearly audible sucked in breath, followed by a shaky exhale. ‘- to keep it under control.’

‘What-? Keep it under-’ The man cursed under his breath and momentarily slowed his pace. ‘Jesus- Boss cut off the fuckin’ oxygen?’

Killing his own people? Bold strategy.

Vincent watched the blood drain from the woman’s face as the harsh reality dawned on her. She opened her mouth as to speak; but no sound came out, and she quickly closed it again, bottom lip quivering ever so slightly as she averted her gaze and continued walking.

He nearly felt sorry for her. Nearly.

Until he remembered how they had found Mikhail- broken and bruised, hair thin from stress and fingernails torn and bleeding- how he had been screaming and begging for it all to stop only moments before they had entered the room he was being held in, hands tied above his head as three of Ravager’s people pushed him down over a table-

Had they found him only a minute later, had they taken any longer fighting their way through the facility, had they taken any wrong turns- they would have been too late. And Ravager’s men would have- they would have-

A wave of panic rushed through Vincent and the ziplock ties around his wrists suddenly felt a lot tighter than before. He sucked in a breath and felt new tears well up, stinging in his eyes and blurring his vision until he could barely see where he was going.

Hey- Keep it together, kid. Nothing’s happened yet. Eyes up.

Right.

Focus.

Vincent clenched his jaw and his gaze moved back up, a single tear escaping his eye and rolling down his cheek- though his previous panic was now replaced entirely by boiling rage, suddenly vividly remembering the look of pure relief on Mikhail’s face when he had noticed them enter, and the way he had clung to Vincent the moment his hands had no longer been tied together-

He was going to make them pay.

That’s why he had come back there in the first place, right?

Now that’s the V I know. Get ready.

Gunshots. Nearby. A few hallways away, perhaps- but they echoed through the entire facility, startling Vincent’s escort, and he was dragged out of the hallway into a side room. The man was squeezing his arm painfully tight now, to the point he could feel a bruise take shape underneath his fingertips; and the woman was cursing, turning her back toward the both of them as she stood in the doorway, gun at the ready, waiting for anyone to cross her path-

Now.

Vincent turned around and forcefully kicked up his knee, placing it right between the man’s legs and causing him to buckle over- a second knee kick, right to the nose, followed by a third kick in the stomach to send him flying backwards, tumbling over some machinery. Vincent immediately steadied himself again and ran toward the woman- he rammed his entire body into her before she could lift her gun, causing the both of them to crash onto the white tiling of the hallway floor.

He scrambled to his feet, struggling- without his hands he could barely get any grip, and by the time he’d positioned his legs underneath his body again the woman was already up as well; she grabbed the collar of his shirt and dragged him toward her, reaching for something in her belt-

Vincent used the momentum to launch himself directly onto her again, headbutting her on the nose in their fall- he landed on top of her and her head bounced off the floor with a loud thud, and a single shriek of pain left her lips before she lost consciousness.

Good. Now get out.

Get out.

Get out. Get out, get out, get out-

Vincent pushed himself back up, panting and gasping for air as he stumbled away from the room and quickly made his way through the still-empty hallway, begging for it to stay that way. He was running out of adrenaline- his only source of energy, the events of the past days having drained him entirely from his reserves, and his entire body felt heavy as he dragged himself around the corner.

Where to go, where to go- the monotonous hallways all looked the fucking same and he was not entirely sure what floor he found himself on and which way he had come from in the first place, and the narrow side hallways he was moving through were a disorienting clusterfuck to the point he believed he was just going in circles.

Another turn, another turn- Vincent lost his footing and the world spun around him as he crashed on the floor again, whimpering when his head collided with the cold tiles and he momentarily lost his vision.

Get up.

‘Fuck all of this fuckin’ bullshit,’ Vincent whispered to himself, barely able to force the words out of his throat as he pushed himself back up, leaning heavily against the wall for support.

Alright, potty mouth. Done feeling sorry for yourself?

Shut the fuck up.

Kiss my ass.

Vincent grunted and continued to walk, listening closely to the distant gunfire and trying to pinpoint where it was coming from; he stumbled upon another t-junction and turned left, putting as much distance as possible between him and the ongoing armed confrontation.

He knew what- and who- he could possibly find there. Still, walking face-first into battle with his arms bound to his back sounded like the dumbest idea that had ever crossed his mind, and even though he knew he could stumble upon allies he preferred his body in one piece, rather than shot full of holes.

He just- he had to get out. He would find his way back home once he would set foot outside again.

Staircase.

Vincent pushed the door open with his shoulder and began descending- he tripped over his feet again and tumbled down the stairs, unable to catch himself in his fall and crying out in pain when a sharp jab shot through his shoulder, all the way down his spine to his hips.

Careful.

‘God damnit, Johnny.’ Vincent let out a strangled sob as he rolled on his side, carefully moving his legs to feel if his bones were still intact.

It felt weird to say his name out loud.

Vincent knew he wasn’t there anymore.

He forced himself back up on his feet, grunting as his knees nearly buckled under his weight again- nothing felt broken, but everything felt battered and bruised and the burning pain in his hips was still there, clawing away at his muscles. He carefully straightened his back and glanced at the sign above the exit-

Ground floor. Good.

Vincent pushed himself back into another monotonous hallway, ducking behind some lockers just in time, only barely able to jump out of line of sight of an entire armed-to-the-tits squad of guards; Dupoint’s backup, he could only guess.

Another rush of panic. He had to get out. Get out of the building, and quick- Ravager’s men were one thing, a poor excuse of a street gang with lousy combat training under their belt and the aim of an eight-year-old on a sugar rush at the fair; but Dupoint’s people were something else, serious business, a selection of top-shelf quality hired guns who would, upon spotting him, riddle Vincent with bullets before he could even turn around.

Hallway. Corner- turn left. Hallway. Turn right. Another right.

It was a fucking maze- designed specifically like that to trap people inside forever, and the longer Vincent walked and the more he had to jump back around corners or dive behind any piece of furniture he could get cover behind in order to stay out of sight, the more he began fearing he would never find his way out-

Another squad.

Vincent immediately threw himself into a room, muscles cramping up the moment his shoulder came in contact with the door. He did not bother to close it properly behind him- the squad continued their hurried pace either way, unaware of him hiding right around the corner, right in arm’s reach had they bothered to pay a little more attention.

He exhaled sharply as he took a moment to catch his breath, allowing his heartbeat to settle down.

BANG-!

The room had not been empty.

Vincent flinched involuntarily upon hearing the noise, freezing as he listened to the sounds of someone whimpering and gasping for air, barely audible over the still blaring alarms of the facility. His eyes slowly trailed the room- and with that, the nauseating amount of corpses scattered across the floor, Ravager’s men and Dupoint’s security retinue alike, and he quickly found the perpetrator, in the midst of adding another body to the pile.

Vitali.

He sat with his back toward Vincent- though it was unmistakably him, his bleached hair tousled and white shirt torn and stained with blood and sweat, sleeves rolled up as he leaned heavily on his arms with his fingers wrapped tightly around the neck of one of Ravager’s people, his knuckles whitened underneath the dark bruising decorating the back of his hands.

Someone else walked in through the door on Vitali’s right, gun at the ready- though before they could do anything or Vincent could call out, Vitali was already back up on his feet, hand reaching for the knife in his belt while he dodged out of the guard’s line of fire and threw his body at them at full speed.

He worked fast- he always did. Vincent watched as he knocked the gun out of the guard’s hand and ripped their helmet off, revealing a pale, sweat-covered and most of all terrified face- and a single cry left their lips as Vitali plunged the knife into their throat, blood spraying into his face as he dragged the blade through their artery.

The alarms around them finally stopped.

Silence fell over the room like a sudden vacuum as the guard clawed at the gaping wound in their neck and sank down on the floor. They reached out, a bloody hand grasping at Vitali- he simply stepped back out of their range, spitting on the floor as he rolled his shoulders back and cracked his neck.

Vincent was too scared to make a sound.

He watched Vitali drop his head as the guard spluttered incoherently before drawing their final breath, and a knot took shape in his torso as Vitali suddenly walked forward toward the door, getting ready to leave the room without as much as shooting another glance at the massacre he had left behind-

‘Vito?’

Vincent’s voice was barely audible, hoarse and weakened by the amount of screaming he had been doing- though Vitali heard him, loud and clear, and he turned around while steadying himself, knife at the ready, as if he was expecting more enemies to show.

He had the look in his eyes again.

The bright fury- the wild, blinding rage that had overtaken him once before, and Vincent could barely hold his gaze as the knot in his chest painfully tightened.

Though the moment Vitali realized it was him, his eyes softened, and he mouthed Vincent’s name in a relieved sigh- and he stood motionless as Vincent stumbled over to him, legs barely able to carry his weight anymore and knees buckling with each step but he did not care and it did not stop him, repeating Vitali’s name- once, twice- and crying out when his ankle twisted and he fell-

A soft landing.

Vincent buried his face in Vitali’s chest as he sobbed, exhaustion washing over him as the stress that had built up inside his chest finally released. Vitali spoke to him in Russian- it’s okay, I’ve got you; you’re safe, my love, you’re safe- and he dropped the knife, blood-covered hands trembling mid-air as he held Vincent in his arms.

Hesitation. Again- but still, still, he carefully cupped Vincent’s cheeks- hands that had choked, and carved, and killed- but ever so gentle and patient as they cradled his face, fingertips softly brushing over his skin and instantly easing his pain.

‘Look at me- V, please- please…’

Vitali’s voice broke.

Vincent sat unmoving. The situation had forced him to his knees; literally so, his hands still bound tightly behind his back, wrists and head bleeding, eyelids heavy and breathing shallow as he listened to Vitali’s pleads.

He forced himself to lift his head- and he felt vulnerable. Vulnerable and exposed, unable to defend himself would circumstances call for it, and he could not help but feel a rush of terror when Vitali’s hands moved dangerously close toward his neck as they caressed his jaw to tilt his head higher-

But Vitali merely kissed him.

Vincent was starving. But Vitali’s lips only softly brushed past his, a careful and hesitant gesture; a question, almost- May I? Will you still let me?

Of course, baby. Of course.

Vincent answered by leaning closer, gasping for air into their kiss as Vitali’s grip on his face momentarily tightened- and Vitali’s lips quivered as they finally parted, his hands dragging down Vincent’s neck and gently pulling him closer as he allowed Vincent to sate his hunger.

Vincent’s chest filled with relief and he collapsed further into Vitali’s arms, their kiss messy and entirely out of sync- but for a split second he was home, no longer in the facility, no longer in pain and no longer tied up, and no longer worrying about people running in and finding them there-

Sounds like you kinda should be worried about that, though.

But it wasn’t enough yet. Vincent wished his hands were unbound; oh, how he would have clung on to Vitali, then, like he was afraid if he would let go he would disappear- how he would have gently held his head, how his fingers would have explored each and every inch of his bare skin and how he would have tugged softly on the back of his hair in an attempt to pull him closer-

They broke the kiss, both gasping for air as their foreheads collided and Vitali dropped his hands on Vincent’s thighs. Vincent’s eyes fluttered shut again and he allowed Vitali to softly and reassuringly kiss his cheek- leaving a trail all the way down over his jaw and neck, like bandaids on his wounds.

Their gazes met again. Vitali’s eyes were hazy- a single tear rolled down his cheek, mixing with the dark red blood decorating his freckled skin. He hesitantly cupped Vincent’s cheek once more; and Vincent leaned in to his touch, resting his face against Vitali’s palm and exhaling slowly as the tension in his upper body finally released.

He still sometimes wondered how he had found his way to Vitali. Even more so, how he had managed to find his way to his heart- utterly convinced from the moment they had met that Vitali already had everything in the world and Vincent could never be someone he would long for or would want to be with.

Falling in love with him had been terrifying, in a way. Vincent had just been a merc- small, nearly insignificant compared to Vitali, or to anyone else in his inner circle for that matter. Just one from many, not close to him like Mikhail was- a lifelong friend, someone Vitali trusted with his life- and not nearly as powerful as Vitali himself to be able to call himself an equal.

Rook, bishop, king.

But it was worth it, right?

Vitali reached for the knife again. A sudden move that caught Vincent off guard; he froze, and held his breath, yet still allowed Vitali to move closer and lean over Vincent’s shoulder-

He carefully cut through the ziplock ties around Vincent’s wrists.

‘You came back for me,’ Vincent quietly said, embarrassment rising in his chest as he watched Vitali lean back and quickly push the knife back into his belt.

‘Of course I did.’ Vitali paused, and visibly clenched his jaw. ‘I… I am sorry it took this long. We did not waste any time- please know that.’

Vincent nodded, unable to speak.

He was unsure why he had doubted him before. He had watched how Ravager’s men had struggled to contain him- if Vitali’s rage alone had been able to kill, he would have left the entire facility littered with corpses right then and there.

Vitali reached out for him again- carefully, as not to startle him- and gently pulled him toward his chest once more. Vincent gratefully allowed him, eyes closing momentarily when Vitali’s arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders and his hands found their way to his hair.

Of course he had come back. Of course. Had it been the other way round, Vincent would have done the same for him.

‘We should go,’ Vitali mumbled, pressing a soft kiss on Vincent’s hair. ‘The others are waiting.’

Vincent slowly sat up again, exhaustion overtaking his body- but he paid it no mind, smiling up at Vitali as he scanned Vincent’s face, hands softly running over his shoulders.

Nearly over. Nearly safe again.

Vitali pressed a kiss on his forehead, and he carefully helped him back up on his feet, voice slightly shaking as he spoke again.

‘Let’s get out of here, my love. Let’s go home.’

#asks #coffeebucko #writing asks #nuclearwriting #so. how are we feeling besties #this has to be my favorite thus far aauuauaugh i could talk abt this one all day actually!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#hope i added enough warnings shjghfgdkl lmk if i missed any ;-;#it's about the. it's about the chess pieces. the fuckignn. it's about vitali's rage. it's about the HANDS. THE HANDS #it's about vincent and vitali both yeeting themselves in combat. literally. these men don't throw hands they throw bodies #vincent has the excuse of Hands Being Bound but vitali is literally just like that. ok king #i will voluntarily go to blorbo jail for this one <3 also yes mikhail is okay he is currently wrapped in a blanket eating soup #i will be so annoying with the self rbs on this one. on god #ch:the broker

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