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Fandom mysterious destiny — harapeko + jump.

nocchi

☆avantgarde☆
Roleplay Availability
Roleplay Type(s)
as long as there's music, i'll keep on dancing!
❝bayonetta❞
Standing towards the altar was a woman of abnormally tall frame, hands clasped delicately at the bosom as she stared at the white structures laced with a decorative golden; memorialized paintings plastered into their center. The woman's eyes were resting and face serene as if having found peace in the Church. Yet at the sound of heels clacking behind her, her eyelids would flutter open, revealing irises of icy blue. There was a mischievous glimmer embedded within them as hands floated gracefully to their respective sides. "It's a shame no one's attended this Sunday's Mass," She'd murmur in something of a hum, and as if on silent cue, the dame would spin on heels hidden by the flare of her elegant, ivory garments. "I don't suppose you have sins to confess?" She now looked towards the owner of the aforementioned heels.

The other woman bore a stature was comparable to Bayonetta's own, although her body only took the appearance of garments; with skin of alabaster contrasted by a brass that looped down her frame as if a dress stitched from the finest and flashiest threads. From her head stemmed hair reminiscent of a moth's antennae, attached to a crown of teal and bronze. Her hands and ankles were replaced by a similarly colored electric mass akin to a plasma ball of teal. Most notably, however, was the large ring of light which floated above her head. Naturally and foolishly, moths are attracted to any light they see. The same applied to this woman's kind. This angel's kind... the Joys. As if only amused by the sight of her, a smirk tugged at the rightmost side of Bayonetta's lips, a soft but confident chuckle escaping her.

"I'm quite in the mood for a tussle.. I suppose this is what you'd call 'divine timing'," She chirped out through an amused simper, extending her right arm overhead. With a circular motion would a summoning circle take shape, falling down on her. Upon having encased her and dispered, her nun's habit too would have dispersed, replaced by a catsuit of black in its stead; headress replaced by hair of ebony black replacing came to cascade down her back, embraced loosely by a ribbon of scarlet that adorned black inscriptions on its length. Lastly, two red guns with gems in their grips would have ended up in her hands, seemingly having clattered out from the summoning circle as it fell.

"Let's dance!" With the triumphant call, Bayonetta stylishly circled a leg on the floor until it crossed over the other, only then spinning on the fronts of her feet. Whilst still spinning, she raised one leg, whose heels began to fire out bullets. She would transition the Illusion into a full flip, which she would then utilize her hands to push herself across the ground and closer to the Joy, who she continued to shoot at—now single-handedly. Although effective in stunning the Joy, it did little to keep her down, and it's then that another summoning circle would open up—this time beneath Bayonetta—a chain of glowing scarlet being shot out from its blackened depths.

Skillfully wrapping the chain around her wrist, she lashed it at the Joy, wrapping her in its length. When the summoning circle opened wider, she'd reel the Joy in closer until she was slipping into the darkness, and only then allowed the chains to disperse into nothingness along with that angel.

"Hmm.." She hums out as if dissatisfied. "I was hoping for something a bit more exciting. How boring." Emitting a 'humph', Bayonetta would strut outside of the church. Noting the peculiar amounts of shadows cast overhead, she averted her gaze to the skies, covered by the mass of angels floating there. With a gasp, she'd quickly crouch into position, both arms extended at their respective sides and pointing the guns in said directions. "Now look at what that Joy has brought out.. At this rate, I won't have enough time for my shopping today!" She remarks as if having been nuisanced, although not discouraged nor overwhelmed. Without another word, Bayonetta would begin to shoot guns in both hands, arms moving in a circle overhead as the angels caved in on her, then flipping forwards and shooting from the guns attached to her heels as well.

"You boys really have it for me, don't you?" Bayonetta questions, although not expectant of a response whatsoever. She flings herself onto the grotesque imitation of a human face mold of the Worship, plastered in the center of it shape. "Hiiiyah!" She cries whilst striking it with a plant of the heel there until a crack forms under it, gripping the golden extensions at the side of its 'face' with both hands, forcibly turning it in a circle and then leaping onto its top, firing from there as it still spins. After a few short seconds, she flips backwards off of the Worship who erupts into a flash of light and then disappears. Once landing, she spins and throws her arms in the air before letting them flow back down alluringly. "AVAVAGO!" And with that, Bayonetta's hair spirals upward into a whirlwind which extends furthermore and connects itself on the ground a distance away. Another portal emerges from it, although this time a large monster erupting from its shape and doing so with a blood-curdling bellow which bares mangled teeth.

Without hesitation, the summoned daemon gnashed the angels in its maws, emitting another roar after each gulp.

"Good boy!" Bayonetta chimed at the sight as if satisfied by its display. "But there's quite a few who've gotten away.. You all are rather the disobedient, aren't you?" And in a manner similar to she had done prior, she spun and posed with a leg extended but angled; arms in the air but cascading down her frame as if dancing gleefully. "PDEE BARMA!" From the summoning circle would first emerge shockingly large hands, whose length red nails would latch onto the street's graphite, pulling up the rest of the form; a crown of hair shaped like a butterfly's wings, a face tainted with a slight shade of death's blue, complimented by eyes of pure white. Something of a malicious smirk was etched into the daemoness' crimson lips as she scooped up the angels into her hands, toying with them until the end of their lifespan. As a result of the Madama Butterfly's sheer size—and wideness of her movements, by extension—some buildings had ended up being demolished, although others only with a notch taken out of their structures.

"Well, now there's none left for me!" Eyes would gaze upon the city, noting its still continuous destruction as a result of both the Infernals and angels brawling. Notably, the passerby had taken off in screeches, although an erratic few would instead approach with an onslaught of cameras or microphones. "No time to talk now, boys!" Bayonetta would dismiss, offering a gloved palm of the hand as if to distance herself from those few. Glancing about from an escape of the chaos, she noted another peculiarity, one who didn't fit either category of the other two humans. A small boy, masked beneath the large shadows of the supernatural. Immediately, Bayonetta took off in a sprint towards him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and then proceeding to roll into a nearby alleyway. "You know, you should follow your elders and run away! Standing around like that will only get you hurt!" She scolds, gently striking him on the crown of his head with a palm as if he were a recalcitrant child. "Now come, little one," She instructs, the arm wrapped around his shoulders using its hand to cover his eyes as they descended through the ground and into another summoning circle.

The chaos that had formerly surrounded them melted into the silence of their new location. "Rodin, get a lollipop for the child, and fast," She'd instruct the tall man behind the counter, handing it to the brunet when it was at last presented to her. It was a rose shaped lollipop with a blush pink color and a typical white stick. Bayonetta looks down to the boy, observing him momentarily in silence. She slants her hips to the side, the back of her hand coming to rest on it whilst humming as if in thought. "Now what's with that expression, little boy?" She hums, impatiently drumming her fingers against the outside of her thigh. "If I hadn't taken you here, you would have gotten absolutely crushed!" A breath. "You don't seem satisfied with that, though.. You've got family to save? A pet, perhaps?" She tacks on another question somewhat sarcastically, although using her usual velvety tone of voice.
  • outfit


coded by reveriee.
 

jump.

Number 5.
Roleplay Availability
Roleplay Type(s)
NUMBER FIVE
mood
panic, trauma </3, ANGYYYY

outfit
here

location
rodin's bar

tags
here
For Christ's sake, couldn't he at least gone another week without another apocalypse? Hell, even a few days. Just a few days to relax and not worry for just once in his life?

Truthfully, Five didn't know what was going on. He didn't know what had caused this. He didn't know why the world had suddenly erupted into chaos. Why there was so much screaming, noise. It hurt to listen to. Not just because it was so loud, but because he was scared. Because panic had kicked in the moment he could see so much chaos outside.

His chest was tight. Lungs were burning.

He couldn't breathe.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

He had stopped it. He thought he had stopped it!

So why? Why was the world crumbling? Why were people dying, right in front of him?

He didn't have time to think. Or look. Or listen.

He had to go. His family were in danger. He had to stop this! He couldn't let them die, not again!

He was out on the street in a matter of seconds, blinking into the commotion without thought, eyes unable to focus on a single thing because there was so damn much happening.

A breath.

Where were the others, anyway?

He had to find them. Bring them together. Bring them to safety.

Shit.

Shit, why couldn't he pull himself together?

He didn't even know what was happening! He was supposed to know everything!

He shut his eyes. Shut out the noise, the chaos, the fighting and the screaming. He needed to think. Strategize. There had to be a way to gather his siblings, even just an optimal order of collection, something that would help. He could feel searing heat against his skin, biting at his sleeves, at his legs. He didn't know if it was real, or just some fucked up illusion conjured by his frazzled mind. "Come on!" He wouldn't even have the time to grab Dolores, not at this rate. Not if he kept on hesitating like this.

He was supposed to be a survivor.

He'd survived forty five years on the bare minimum. He could survive this too.

Vanya... She would be at her apartment. It wasn't far from here. He could jump straight to her house without using up too much energy-

His thoughts shortly silenced.

He didn't have time to process what was going on, it was too fast. One second, he was out on the street trying to figure out what to do, and the next... An alleyway?

"Why did you do that?" He didn't know who this stranger was. But he didn't like her. She'd cut off his train of thought, reprimanded him on his actions (or lack of). "You idiot! I have to stop this!" He had to. He had to.

Fuck he couldn't breathe.

Couldn't see, either. A hand was over his eyes and he couldn't bring himself to react. He knew how he wanted to react. He wanted to jump away, grab Vanya, grab everyone else and go. But he couldn't bring himself to even suck in a breathe.

His eyes stung with frustration.

And then there was silence. Nothing but the sound of his own heartbeat, his own erratic breathing, his own hisses and barely supressed wails of anger.

He'd failed. He'd failed. And now people were going to die.

He didn't move as he heard speech, didn't raise his eyes from the ground, or look up to locate the voices. His shoulders were shaking, fists clenched and nails drawing blood. Twitches passed across his expression, eyes wide and staring into nothing, he felt sick. He felt sick, but knew if he threw up, he'd throw up nothing but his own stomach acids.

"A lollipop?" Five finally spoke up, eyes raising only to glare, glare with as much venom as he could muster, jaw physically aching as he snarled. "A fucking lollipop? That's all you have to offer?"

Her. It was her that did this. Her that took him away.

It was her that had been in the middle of the chaos. Her that would be responsible for the deaths of innocents, for his family.

"I might as well shove your damn lollipop up my ass, because that's just how much the world keeps fucking me over!" His outburst was violent, and within a flash of blue he was in front of Bayonetta, close enough that he could practically touch her. "People are going to die. People are going to die and it's your fault! I have a family and they can't save themselves, they didn't the first time and they won't now. They need me!"

They were going to die. They were going to die. They were going to fucking die.

"You think I give a shit about my own safety, huh? What am I? Just some fucking kid to you? Someone that needs to be saved?"

He was fuming. He was fuming and he was showing anger. He was showing anger, and he was weak.

"Well guess what! I'm not! I can handle myself, but they can't. So take me back to where I was before I gouge your eyes out with your lollipop. And maybe, maybe I'll forget about all of this, and won't make a scarf out of your intestines."
coded by reveriee.
 

nocchi

☆avantgarde☆
Roleplay Availability
Roleplay Type(s)
as long as there's music, i'll keep on dancing!
❝bayonetta❞
There was a striking sense of rage in this boy's voice, and a similar emotion was mirrored in those dull green eyes which were almost coated in a suspiciously glossy sheen. Plump lips pursed at the sight, a single eyebrow cocking upwards with an indecipherable sort of emotion. Right. Perhaps, she had reacted to briskly. Based on the boy's hostile and notably neary teary-eyed reaction, she had certainly reacted with too much haste. An arm was loosely draped across her midriff, the second coming to rest atop it with a bent elbow, wrist limply hanging just alongside her face (although without touching it). A monotone hum escaped her as if briefly succumbing to thought, head even absentmindedly tilting in a similar manner. Gaze would avert from analyzing the boy's face and to the lollipop he had been forcibly given instead, pinching the stick between the tips of her index finger and thumb; gingerly plucking it from his hand.

"Well, that's no way to talk to your elders, now is it?" Accented words drip from her tongue, its sound caressing the listener's ear in a manner only comparable to the sensation of swallowing a sickly sweet vanilla extract; her right eyebrow inquisitively raising for no longer than the fraction of a second as she proposes that rhetorical question. She allows the lollipop to absentmindedly bob by the stem, perched delicately between the middle of her fore and middle finger. "What is it that you want to stop, exactly?" Bayonetta asks in her usual lull of a tone, the back of [her] free hand coming to settle on the respective hip again—slanted to the side. "If you're referring to those beasts up there, you're simply out of luck, Little One," It was as though Bayonetta had shifted into naught but a bearer of bad news with her unfortunate honesty.

"To be honest, Little One, even for me those things can be quite difficult to control, and I'm their master." She would add, just slightly leaning over and gently tapping the rose shaped tip of the lollipop on Five's nose before bringing it up to her lips and allowing it to settle between them. "Do you understand the situation now?" A breath. "There's nothing that you can stop," She says bluntly, although lacking any aggression in her voice. Her expression, however, seemed slightly displeased by his threats. "I don't suppose you talk to your mum like that as well?" She turns her head up at him to further exaggerate her disapproval of his speech. "But I suppose if you've got someone to save..." Silently, she recalled that expression he first displayed before his venomous words of rage; that look of sheer sorrow and dejection. "I can't refuse that, now can I?"

Despite the nearly content yet condescending tone she used, there was a twinge of guilt revolving about her head. "It's true that I got him wrapped up in my mess," Her internal dialogue would chime in the depths of her head. "I do suppose it's my responsibility to take him back to clean it up." Holding back the urge to release a pent up sigh, she spun on her heels in the same stylish manner she did whilst fighting, although this time her free hand was extended towards Five, making a slight beckoning gesture with a gentle curl of the fingers. The second hand, however, was still pinching the lollipop at her lips by the stick. "Come now, Little One," She coaxes, knowing that he'd obey regardless of his reluctance to do so.

Once he approached and stood near her, the femme would hum in something of a curious manner. "You know, I'm quite impressed," Bayonetta admits, looking down at the chestnut crown of his head. "Your desire to protect—to save—is stronger than your pride." She would add, further explaining what it was that she meant. "There are some men who haven't learned that kind of chivalry. And here you are, just a boy, and having already learnt it!" A pause, although one which hardly allowed time for a proper response. "Though, if you let that go to your head, I'll have to teach you a lesson," She adds in a gentle buzz, her remark perhaps a joke; the red portal they stood upon whisking them away to the surface from whence they came once more.

As done prior, on the way there, Bayonetta would cover the smaller's eyes with a gloved hand.

Upon arrival, however, she'd remove that hand which had briefly acted as a shield. "Now, who exactly are you looking for?" She ponders aloud, gaze drifting about the destruction. Icy optics would fall down to exchange contact with Five's own. In a mysterious purr, she would speak again. "I know a way we can get to where you want quickly, but you must tell me first."
  • outfit


coded by reveriee.
 

jump.

Number 5.
Roleplay Availability
Roleplay Type(s)
NUMBER FIVE
mood
A N G R Y

outfit
here

location
whatever remains of earth lol rip

tags
here
He didn't calm down. He didn't even know if it was possible. His blood was boiling, veins on fire, lungs filled with smoke. This woman had ruined everything. And she didn't even give a shit about it.

Her response caused him to physically bristle, jaw snapping shut as a low, animalistic growl threated to escape his mouth. He could feel blood dripping down his palms from where his nails cut into flesh. Just who did this bitch think she was? Acting like everything was fine? Treating him like some damn delinquent child that was throwing a tantrum. "You don't know what I'm capable of." Words were spat out, eyes flashing dangerously. He didn't care. He didn't care what she thought, he was going to stop this shit show, or he was going to die trying. He wasn't just going to sit by and do nothing. Let people die, let his family die.

Not again.

Five swallowed his anger, fists uncurling momentarily, gaze flickering to the crescent shaped cuts that decorated the palms of his hands. A gentle hiss left his mouth as his fists once again clenched, tighter, as Bayonetta spoke once more.

"I can try."

His entire figure had become tense, still, eyes dropping to the ground as she continued to speak. Each word that left her mouth felt like a dagger. A dagger, that plunged itself into his chest, over and over and over again. Everything hurt. Everything burnt.

Eyelids pressed shut as a shudder forced itself through his frame, lips parting to suck in air that his lungs desperately needed.

"I can't let them die." Five spoke more to himself, than to Bayonetta. Turning his face away to hide his expression, to hide the desperation that passed across his features, to hide the burning liquid that had spilled from his closed eyelids. "Not again."

He couldn't. He couldn't relive that. His family was his sole reason for existence. The reason he'd held on for so long, had persevered, despite countless failed attempts to simply give up. Give in. Stop fighting.

He couldn't lose them.

He'd have nothing to live for.

"Just take me back. I don't care what you do. Let me fucking try."

He'd do anything. Sacrifice his own life, to save theirs. Swear eternal loyalty to the Commission. Live through the forty five years of hell, that was the apocalypse, again.

His words seemed to have made at least some impact, as Bayonetta had spoken up again, this time beckoning him forth. Almost as if she had some sort of plan running through her thick skull. Five didn't want to trust her. He didn't want to move at all. Everything in his body was protesting against it.

"Why?" He questioned dryly, eyes flicking to the outstretched hand lazily. "So you can screw things up again? Fuck me over even more? Why the hell shouldn't I just kill you, right here? Right now?"

Because killing her won't save them.

He didn't say anything further, just let his arms raise an a gesture of defeat, a sigh escape from the back of his throat.

Fine.

He'd do it.

He'd do it if it meant he could save his family.

He supressed his urge to comment on his words about his age- or physical appearance, simply allowing his nails to dig deeper into the wounds on his palms, eyelids flickering at the weak sting that the action produced. "The men you know are obviously assholes, then." Even his years spent in solitude, he'd remained loyal to his family. A mistake, probably. They were a bunch of useless idiots, after all. Useless idiots that would be dead without him.

But truthfully? He didn't care if they were idiots. They were his siblings, his family. And they were all he had.

"You should probably seek better company." He added in addition to his prior comment, each word spoke with an exhaustion that seemed to weigh down on his very being. His eyes followed her hand with the same laziness as before, shutting before Bayonetta's hand could even place itself over his eyes, another heavy sigh trembling through his small frame.

He hated it.

He hated how weak he felt. How useless he felt.

He wanted to give up. Let his emotions take over. Scream and cry, wail and sob. Yell until his voice gave out, spew words of anger and loathing. Because everything was unfair. Everything was so, fucking, unfair.

But he didn't. He was better than that.

He was stronger than that.

"My siblings." He opened his eyes to exchange eye-contact with the witch, holding it for a long moment before breaking away to take in the chaos. "There's five of them. And they're all idiots. They probably won't be anywhere I expect them to be." Aside from Vanya, although even his most sensible sibling was still naïve, and reckless.

And chances were, she wouldn't be at her apartment anymore. She'd be out searching for the others. Trying to save innocents.

They all would be.

"They're stupid. They won't bother remaining anywhere safe."

His expression faltered, another wave of stinging heat arising in the corners of his eyes. He was quick to blink the feeling away.

"Just look for chaos. Chances are one of them will be in the centre of it."

coded by reveriee.
 

nocchi

☆avantgarde☆
Roleplay Availability
Roleplay Type(s)
as long as there's music, i'll keep on dancing!
❝bayonetta❞
Bayonetta's curiosity had been piqued a bit, taking mental notes of the words the boy would use. "Not again..? Again?" She'd repeat in her head silently, pondering to herself about the depth of that remark which had been notably made beneath the breath. Her mind became laden with a certain kind of gravitas, one not plastered upon her expression, but felt deeply. She, however, could not help but lightly laugh at the other's remark—the laugh seeping through the brief, but still attempted, stifle. "Well, of course they are!" She'd explain through a slightly toothy simper of mirth. "Try to be better company than them then, will you?" There's something of a teasing nature about the hindmost question; perhaps, how it made a bit of a mockery of the men she knew, or perhaps, how the question was rhetorical and almost a pressure of expectancy instead. Regardless, it was clear to tell that she had been made amused by the smaller's rather witty remark.

When they had returned to the surface, Cereza's field of vision would rake over the mass of ashes left behind by that paranormal brawl. "Talk about casting judgement..!" She'd exclaim aloud with a paltry awe. "This is certainly the work of those angels! This destruction lacks control.. My pets aren't so reckless!" She tacks on in defense of her involvement in the aforementioned battle, a hand habitually coming to lackadaisically sit at the slant of her hip as it had done prior. The other hand would keep the lollipop loosely bobbing between her middle and forefinger whilst eyes took in the sight of the site of ruins. She'd place the lollipop in her mouth, proceeding to retrieve full grasp on the gun's handle which she used to spin the gun in her hand, only stopping when the barrel was pointed downwards.

Leaning over, Bayonetta would flick his nose with the gun's hammer, and would speak again. "Right then.. If there's five of them, there'll be a chance we'll find at least one; don't be so easy to be overcome by despair!" She retracted the gun from his face, spinning it in her hand again until she was holding it normally. "If there's two things I hate, it's cockroaches and crying children, so don't start crying on me now." She instructs, retracting herself from her lowered position she was at in order to be just above the boy's eye level. "There's certainly no need for tears, rest assured. We'll find those siblings of yours," She reassures looking to the heap of destruction that lied before them. She almost wished she could have seen it unfold, see those angels get mauled and crushed by her and her pets, but alas, her sympathy reacted quicker than sadism. She glanced downwards with a small smirk. "Don't think I didn't notice your eyes getting all teary just then, Little One." Bayonetta hums out, strutting forward, still keeping one hand on her hip. The second, however, plucked the lollipop from her mouth, and would swing at her side.

"And relieve your hands of that tension, will you?" She spoke in her normal tone, although was still walking ahead, possibly expecting the boy to follow after as if a lost puppy. "I've got nothing to heal you, so you can't be fainting of blood loss while you're with me. If you do that, you'll wake up alone. I've got no time to babysit children; got it?" Although her words would imply aggression, Cereza still used her usual velvety hum, a tone complimented by [her] posh accent. "Good boy.. Come now!" She chimes out, making a beckoning gesture again behind her. After a moment or two of walking, she comes to a stop. "Would you mind holding on, Little One? You might even want to hold on a bit.. tightly." She recommends with a momentary cock of the eyebrow, adjusting her glasses single-handedly. She turned swiftly to pop the lollipop into Five's mouth, noting that: "In the mean time, this lollipop here just might help with that wound of yours."

She waits a moment for him to obey, before starting off in a sprint, the length of her legs carrying them quite a distance, although without any word of caution, would shift into a black panther with a deafening yowl. Her pelt was still a sleek ebony with that glorious sheen of hers, unsheathed claws even being a brilliant scarlet—the pads beneath her paws being similarly colored. She rustled a bit whilst running as if to make sure Five was sitting comfortably upon her back, at least as comfortably as he could be sat atop a panther. During her display of great speed and stamina, piercing crimson eyes would scan over the ashfall, looking for signs of alive persons. Instead there was only bloodshed and carcases that decorated the streets, pinioned beneath fallen buildings' masses of rubble.

When she deemed she had been running long enough, she pounced abruptly, and when her paws touched the ground, she would return to her human form; boasting that impressive height once more as she towered over Five, having suddenly been carying him in her arms, and thus placing him down shortly thereafter. "You're quite light, you know," She notes with mild caution, a twinge of concern being just barely audible in her speech. "You've not been eating quite well, have you?" She looks down at him, tilting her head just slightly. "If you don't get all of your nutrients in, you'll never grow into an impressive man." A breath. "Become a man worthy of being good company, yes?" Her eyes would leave Five's, instead opting to avert to their surroundings, taking in the sight once again. "So, Little One," Bayonetta would call out, although still looking about. "Did you see them at all? Anyone that could be a sibling, maybe?"
  • outfit


coded by reveriee.
 

jump.

Number 5.
Roleplay Availability
Roleplay Type(s)
NUMBER FIVE
mood
angsty teenager hours

outfit
here

location
Earth

tags
here
"Don't fucking touch me." Five's words came out in a low hiss, his teeth bared into a venomous snarl, eyes flicking upward to meet Bayonetta's own, arm swatting her away. The action felt too familiar. A bad familiarity. One that remind him of the Handler, and her casual displays of affection -if he could even call it affection- he physically stiffened, posture becoming tense as he continued to glare up. A hand raised up to his face, rubbing at the spot in which had been flicked with the gun, skin still burning from the contact.

No further words were spoken as Bayonetta continued, Five's glare eventually dropping as he returned his attention to their surroundings. To the dust in the air, the ashes, the dismembered corpses lying in the streets. Innocent people had died. Innocent people were still dying. He had been trained to save the fucking world! Why couldn't he just succeed in something, one fucking time?

Maybe his siblings were having better luck. Some of them had even bigger hero complexes than himself. There was no doubt they'd be in the middle of the action, trying to halt this onslaught of destruction.

That's if they were still alive.

They hadn't survived the first apocalypse. And chances were, they wouldn't survive this, either.

Not without him.

"I think you'll find all this dust is irritating my eyes." He spat out defensively, holding eye contact for a brief second as if attempting to prove his statement, before quickly dropping it. He hadn't known her for long, but she seemed to have some brains. She'd pick up on his bullshit, she already had. He just needed to keep himself together, and not give into his goddamn emotions. "Thank you for that, by the way. I'm sure everyone here appreciates your "friends" destroying the place." Sarcasm dripped into his tone, arms folding across his chest in irritation. "And don't call me that." He wasn't a child. He hadn't ever been a child. Youth had been stolen from him by his shitty excuse of a father, forcefully torn out of his body by the events of the apocalypse. His mind was fully matured, old. "I'm not a fucking kid."

There was no point in elaborating. This asshole probably didn't have the brain power to even understand.

At her next comment, his arms dropped back down to his sides, a smirk coming to plaster itself on his face as he did exactly the opposite as she was telling him to do. He repressed a soft hiss as nails dug into the fresh wounds on his palms, but it didn't bother him. He was used to it, after all. He'd been trained to ignore it, to withstand anything that was thrown at him. "I think I'd rather wake up alone, honestly." The words left his mouth smoothly, eyes following her for a moment as she walked, before eventually kicking his own body into motion, trailing after briskly. "It would save me from having to deal with an idiot."

Five froze at her next words.

His eyes flashed, head snapping towards her impossibly fast, lips pulling back in their usual fashion to reveal a snarl. He was red faced, anger, or embarrassment he didn't know. Maybe it was both. Quite frankly, he didn't give a shit. "Excuse me?" He knew damn well what she'd said, and he knew she knew damn well what she'd said too. "I'm not a fucking dog." Pause. He moved again, this time ripping through space itself, relocating mere inches in front of Bayonetta's own form. "Don't ever say shit like that again, got it? Unless you want your damn tongue ripped out of your mouth."

The threat was a dry one. Even with his capabilities, he couldn't even reach the damn woman's face. She was a giant. Taller than even Luther. There was no way he could reach her to access her mouth, even if he tried.

He was outmatched and he knew it.

But fuck him if he wouldn't die trying to kick her stupid ass.

Another glare was shot in her direction as she spoke, but nevertheless, Five obeyed her command. There wasn't much else he could do, after all. This woman knew more about the situation that he did, and as much as he hated to admit it, he needed her assistance. "Whatever you say, asshole."

The next thing he knew, his mouth was full of the taste of sugar. And it took him a moment to become aware to the fact she'd stuck the damn lollipop within it. He was half tempted to spit the thing out, but at the same time, his taste buds seemed to appreciate it. He hadn't had sugar in a long time, after all.

Hell, he hadn't even eaten properly in a long time.

Not that he even had the time to eat.

He seemed unmoved by her sudden shift of form, merely raising an eyebrow in mild interest, fingers digging into the fur she'd now spouted. What she did, didn't matter, anyway.

He had a task. And that task was to find one of his dumbass siblings.

Dead, or alive.

His eyes spotted nothing, however. No sign of them. No sign of anything but death and destruction.

He could feel his chest growing tight again, the heat in the air becoming almost unbearable, search becoming more frantic second by second, hands clutching so tightly at Bayonetta's now-fur that he could feel the skin beneath.

Where the hell were they?

They had to be somewhere, right?

They couldn't be dead.

They couldn't be dead.

He didn't move as Bayonetta finally slowed to a halt, acutely aware that he was now on the ground, standing deathly still, as his frenzied gaze continued to survey the surroundings. Looking for signs of anything.

"In case you haven't noticed, I'm too busy trying to save the world to eat." It was a half truth. He often got himself so caught up in whatever he was doing, that he'd simply forget self-care. It didn't matter to him, anyway. He'd survived on the bare minimum for years. What did it matter, if he didn't eat? If he hoarded his food, counted calories and nutritional value obsessively? He had to ration everything he had. It was essential to his survival. One wrong calculation, and he could die. And then no-one would survive.

This wasn't the apocalypse. Not anymore.

"And it doesn't matter." He huffed, eyes never returning to meet her gaze. "I'm not exactly impressive as an adult, either." He'd hardly grown an inch over the years, still as scrawny and thin as ever. The only sign that he'd even changed was that of physical age, of facial hair and wrinkles. Of his dark hair losing it's tone, greying into an eventual white over the years. But at least with age he'd had respect. "And I haven't seen shit. Everyone is fucking dead. And everything is gone."

Five was acutely aware of the fact that his eyes had dropped to the ground again, of the fact that his knuckles had gone white, from how tightly he was pressing his nails into his skin, seeking some form of reality. His look didn't take in anything but the ashes. Of the embers. Of the dust in the air, and on the ground. It was Deja vu. It was nausea.

He'd thrown up, in the apocalypse. After first discovering a corpse. His brothers corpse.

He swallowed down the bile. There was no point in dehydrating himself even further. Water was scarce enough. He needed to survive this.

The lollipop dropped from his mouth.

"I can't do this shit again!"

A cry of frustration, head thrown back to simply laugh, laugh at the sky. Laugh at everything. At God. At this stranger. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fucking fair!

Why was it always him?

"This is your fault." The short, maniacal laugh had fizzled out, and Five's eyes had finally returned to Bayonetta, eyes dulled. Vacant. "You did this." A heavy pause, his head cocked to the side almost as if mirroring her prior actions. "You're the reason everyone's dead. It's you."

He'd spent years, trying to prevent the end of the word. Countless days, simply writing on the walls, equations, useless words. Like he was some kind of madman, like it was all he had known.

All that time. All that pain.

And for what?

He failed.

He failed. And it was her fault.

His upper body turned to face her, hands enveloped with fizzing blue, small rifts and pockets of spacetime opening between his fingers. A grin had stretched across his face, almost joyous, if not for the blistering rage behind his eyes. "I'm going to fucking kill you."


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nocchi

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"Trying to save the world?" Bayonetta would repeat with a raising brow. "I'm not quite sure what you mean, but I suppose that information isn't needed anyways," She'd add shortly thereafter, feigning disinterest whilst nonchalantly flipping jet black strands onto the backs of her shoulders. "Something about his apparent situation gives me a familiar feeling.."" She just slightly shook her head in a hardly noticeable manner as if to rid her brain of the weight the admittedly minimal amount of pondering brought along. She only became a further bit inquisitive upon the boy mentioning his adult self, eyelids fluttering slightly as if having been taken aback by the remark. "I get the feeling that there's something I'm missing here.." Noting that hypothesis, she silently made a vow to rid herself of cluelessness by finding out the answers to the series of questions she was having—no matter how long it took. To undo the mess she partially helped make, she had to find the answers.

Not for the boy,
but for that of [her] own sanity.


"Oh, please!" A hand settles on her bosom for emphasis on her dramatic display of mental drudgery, implied by the groan she had exclaimed through. Taking a breath, she'd have continued. "Save the dramatics, Little One! I highly doubt that everybody is dead, for heaven's sake!" Frosted slate irises would rake over the surroundings once more, adding in a mumble that "I suppose those who are dead, died for heaven's sake.. How ironic." with a seemingly nonchalant shrug and another flip of the hair. Plump lips of thulian pink would purse just slightly at another mention of 'again', eyebrow curiously twitching upwards as it had done prior. Eyes would follow the lollipop as it clattered atop the dusted gravel beneath, flinching wider when they would revert back to Five's and were met with the sight of a glazed over glare of fury.

Hearing the maniacal laughter which signaled the bellow of a psychotic break, Cereza extended a leg backwards as if discreetly attempting to make distance between their two frames should it be needed. "My fault?" She'd repeat with a light but wry bubble of laughter, speaking through her usual alluring tone even as she mocked the other's proposition. "I already told you, Little One," A breath. "Most of this destruction is the work of those angels! My pets don't have such a lack of control, even on their worst days!" She reiterated in defense of her own formerly summoned Infernals. "The state of this planet would have been far worse had I not intervened." Eyes look Five up and down, scrutinizing his body language, or the nuances and slight twitches in that temerarious expression he adorned.

Hearing his repeated hypothesis, Bayonetta's expression shifted from her typical regaled one to something more solemn; as if at least being completely submerged into the depth of the situation at hand.

"You don't know what you're talking about,"

She noted how the boy's lips were split into a Cheshire grin, contradicting the blatant rage embedded within that empty stare; as if hell's embers roared within those dull jade rings. It was an unmistakable pyre that he looked to her with—she recognized it immediately. As though on cue, Bayonetta's demeanor would shift from serious to one more cheeky as typical of her nature, legs beginning to move gracefully as if in a dance, circling delicate rings on the ground with her heels. Her arms would go up in the air gracefully, and cascade back down in a similar manner. She span a handful of times, creating something of a whirlwind of black, before stopping with a strike of a pose, arms bent behind her head and hips bent towards the same—right—side.

It was a captivating exhibit of the carefree woman, whose hair began to emerge from a newly formed portal that had formed at her side, sleek jet black locks emerging from its depths; the strands looking strikingly similar to Bayonetta's own. From those hairs would appear a large hand of pale blue, and long nails. In a singular motion, the hand would sweep Five into its palms, holding him tightly in its single-handed grasp until his movement was restricted by the tightness of its embrace. Bayonetta would ooze a sickening confidence as she strut a bit closer, head tilting as she gazed at the other. "What was that about killing me again, hmm, Little One?" She asks with a deceptively curious inflection in her tone, for the question wasn't at all posed as an earnest one.

"If you want to save this world, then you'll have to get used to me being here, you know!" Bayonetta huffed a bit as if exhausted by Five's display of aggression. "This isn't a wreck you can save when this wreck doesn't have the slightest bit to do with.." She dragged out the hindmost word, leaning in a bit. "...You." Bayonetta flicked the end of his nose upwards with the hammer of her handgun as she had done before in something of a teasing manner. Her hips would jut out to the right, arms folding lackadaisically just beneath her chest as she gazed upon the aforementioned. "Now, have you started to calm down?" She looked him up and down—at least, the portion she could see of him that wasn't cloaked by a certain Butterfly's tight grasp—only speaking once more when their eyes made contact once again.

"I've got something to confess, Little One," A shallow inhale. "As much as I'd love to assist you in your quest, I haven't any qualms with leaving you to fend for yourself!" Whilst she spoke, the large hand's grappling would loosen just slightly, giving the boy a bit of wiggle room to allow for minimum movement. "But seeing as this.. situation has everything to do with me and not with you, I suggest behaving if you want to find your siblings, yes?" She span the left gun in her respective hand absentmindedly, although stopped swiftly within a few seconds. "Am I understood, Little One?"

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Bullshit. He wanted to spit out, wanted to yell, wanted to pick up the nearest chunk of debris and just haul it as this stupid asshole. This was her fault. This was her fucking fault. And he couldn't do anything!

Five seethed in a silence, his eye-contact never once straying, face still pulled into a shit-eating grin, gaze manic. He didn't care if he looked like a madman. Didn't give a shit if he was loosing it. He could feel his blood boiling within his veins, feel the heat radiating from beneath his skin. There was a urge to harm. An urge to destroy. To hurt. To kill.

He wanted this bitch dead.

He lunged forward without warning, blue encasing his form as he jumped forward in space, aiming for those legs. Those unnaturally long legs. He needed to take her down, stun her, at least. Then he could go in for the kill. Wrap his hands around her neck and squeeze, squeeze and squeeze until the color drained from her stupid face, until that smirk was wiped of her lips, the color drained from her eyes.

In that moment he knew nothing else. Nothing but instinct. The predatorial drive to survive, to take down his enemies without second thought. Like his Father had trained him. Like the Commission, had trained him.

He hadn't accounted to be grabbed. To be halted.

How could he? He didn't know shit about this woman, or her abilities. He didn't know what she could do. Even with his reflexes, he hadn't been able to avoid the grasp of that beastly hand.

He couldn't even jump away. It restricted his movements entirely. He couldn't move.

He couldn't fucking move.

"Let go of me!" The cry was feral, as feral as his expression, eyes flashing with a sense of desperation. This- This thing had incapacitated him.

And it's grip burnt.

He didn't like being touched. Didn't like being restricted.

It made him feel sick.

A wave of panic swept across his mind, eyes widening and jaw slackening as he acknowledged just how fucked he was. He didn't stand a chance, did he? Not against her, not against these- these things. He was useless. Completely, and utterly useless. Even his brain refused to cooperate with him, blinded by the panic, of the feeling of claustrophobia. Bile rose up his throat.

Five despised it.

He didn't have a comeback to her words, no witty remark, no scathing bite. What was there to say? He was pathetic. He was fucking pathetic.

And she was pleased with herself. Carrying herself with pride. Because she knew she was better than him. They both knew she was better than him.

He dropped eye contact, shifted his focus onto the simple act of breathing, because otherwise, he'd just suffocate. He'd suffocate because everything felt too tight, because ash was filling his lungs, making his eyes sting and burn and weighing his body down. It was heavy. It was so damn heavy.

Was the heaviness physical? Was it emotional? He didn't know. He was so fucking tired.

He struggled until he exhausted himself. He hissed, and spat and thrashed. He struggled until he could no longer bring himself to move. He didn't want to look at this woman, didn't want to face the shame of defeat. He wouldn't -couldn't- admit that she had won. That he had lost. That he was nothing.

Nothing but a scared, a traumatized child who was completely alone in the world. Who had no-one but himself to rely on.


Five fell limp. "Fuck you." His words lacked spite. He didn't have the energy to inflict hatred into his tone. He didn't have any energy at all. His gaze raised to meet Bayonetta's own, unable to do anything more than simply stare, eyes still burning. "Fuck you." He willed himself to speak again, and again and again. "Fuck you!" Until his voice died out, his throat physically closing in on itself, cutting off any attempts of speech entirely.

Why did this keep happening?

Why did this keep fucking happening?

He couldn't do this shit anymore!

He couldn't. Not again. Not again. He'd rather die. Why wouldn't the world just let him die?

Why did he have to survive?


Bayonetta's speech became deaf to his ears. Five couldn't hear anything. Couldn't hear himself, couldn't hear anyone else. The world was silent, oppressive. The silence pressed down on him from all angles, crushing and squeezing, until he was certain he could hear the sickening snap of his own bones. His eyes stared forward into nothing but emptiness. Into a world that no longer existed, a world void of life. He didn't even know if he was breathing anymore. Part of him wished he wasn't. That he could just forget his pride for once, stop caring, just give up.

Shit.

He was so damn tired.

He hadn't felt the desire to sleep in years. Not since he'd been awaking, night after night, screaming and shaking, blood in his vision. Blood on his hands. He'd simply stopped. Refused to rest unless his body could no longer keep going, and even then, it was unconsciousness that pulled him into sleep. Not his own mind. Not his own free will.

But now? He wanted to sleep. He wanted to close his eyes. He wanted to rest.

And he never wanted to wake up.

Five found himself thankful, for the hand that was holding him. Thankful that he no longer had to hold himself up, because he knew he couldn't. He knew that the moment this thing let him go, he'd just crumple. He'd crumple and shatter and never move again.

Glossy irises found their way back to Bayonetta's blurry form. He didn't know why she was blurry all of a sudden. He didn't have the energy to care.

"I don't know if I want to find them." Pause. He sucked in a breath he hadn't been aware he was holding. "What if they're dead?" Another pause, his chest heaved with the physical effort to just breathe. "I can't-" Why was everything so shaky all of a sudden? "I can't do this again."
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nocchi

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❝bayonetta❞
Bayonetta would have continued speaking through Five's demanding, animalistic bellows to be released—a silent refusal to comply in pursuit of her own goals. She'd mentally note when his attempts at thrashing about had started to dwindle down into stillness, and his voice following suit, for words seldom left him whilst she spoke. Perhaps, even he could learn to be obedient when forced under the right conditions. Her face, however, would delicately scrunch with disapproval of his foul language, spat out towards her as if a snake releasing venom. "Now, now, is that anyway to talk to dear old mummy?" She asked with a cocking brow, eyes averting to the floor; namely, to the lollipop that had been dropped upon it. "And look at what you've done!" A hand would gesture loosely to the lollipop. 'You've gone ahead and ruined my favorite one! Nice work," Accented words were laced with a twinge of sarcasm as they dripped from her tongue, head flicking upwards with acerbic acknowledgement as eyes raked over the other's restrained form somewhat bitterly.

Plump lips parting to emit a gentle sigh, Bayonetta would lightly shake her head as if to disregard such pettiness, irises at last planting themselves on Five's own once more. He had become strangely calm, that boy, although his voice was audibly still burdened by uncertainty and remnants of anger. Without breaking eye contact, "They're not dead. We're going to find them," Cereza would somewhat sternly reaffirm with a gentle clack as she bit off the ends of her words. "Now, if you promise to behave, I'll release you." She hummed, watching for a long few seconds more. When she deemed it had been long enough, slowly but surely would Madama Butterfly's long fingers unravel from the boy's frame, plopping him onto the ground before retracting back into the mystical vacuum, disappearing with that. With Five now returned to the ground, Bayonetta would gracefully stride forward in order to close the distance, looking down on him.

"Regardless of whether or not you choose to tag along, I'm going to reverse this," Left hand settles on the respective hip as it slants to the side; she takes a breath. "Though, I must warn you, there's no guarantee that you won't get smothered by rubble if you stay here!" Bayonetta speaks through a sly simper, and a similarly mischievous tone as if having been stricken with the feeling that she applied pressure in all of the right areas. Eyes flickered away from Five and to their desloated environment, eyebrows furrowing for naught but a fraction of a second. "By the way, Little One," She starts, briefly looking back to him as she addresses [him], only to continue. "Why do you keep saying 'again'?" Her tone, although still of smooth velvet, lacks its former plotting mischief.

She gulps as silently as she can possibly manage, only to take in a sharp inhale through slightly parted lips. "...I don't suppose something like this has happened before?" With that proposal, she feels her heart palpitate beneath that golden crescent upon her chest, recalling memories of the past better off forgotten; the looping past and its interminable, brilliant light she had seen all too many times. Lips pursed in a way only noticeable if you had been scrutinizing her expression, the tension between them releasing as a hand reached to gingerly pluck another lollipop from the keyhole in her catsuit by the stick. "By the way, Little One, don't feel too bad about that lollipop," She alerts with a smirk. "Mummy's always got a backup of her favorites." Plopping the rose shaped candy into her mouth, she began to stride forwards, eyes looking over the demolished city.

"As much as I'd like to believe it, it's... unlikely that my pets defeated them all." She admits through a sigh. "Those pests always return to get me! I'm like their favorite fucking star!" A low chuckle seeps out, and a smirk tugs at her lips just slightly. "Of course, I don't mind having a good photo or twenty taken!" She began to absentmindedly swing one of her guns by the trigger loop, removing the lollipop from her mouth with the other hand. "Say, if this has happened before..." She paused a bit, lips pursing as if still trying to think of what to say. "..How exactly did you undo it?"

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hello there yes i would like to order a total mental breakdown thank you

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For Christ's sake, pull yourself together.

It was easier said than done. Despite how much his mind was screaming at him, begging him to just ignore these damn emotions, like he had, for the vast majority of his god-forsaken existence, he couldn't do anything to prevent the feeling of heaviness that had come to weigh down like a ton of bricks on his shoulders. And as someone who had been crushed by a ton of bricks a couple of weeks before, Five knew the feeling well.

And it fucking hurt.

It hurt so goddamn much.

It never stopped hurting.

His eyelids had slipped shut. He didn't know if it was due to fatigue, the desire to just stop. Rest. Give up. Or whether it was a way to just shut everything out. The sights. The sounds. The scents. Hell, maybe it was just an attempt not to cry. He could feel it, building up behind his eyes, like a dam that threatened to burst at any moment. He refused to show emotion. Refused to show weakness. He was pathetic enough as it was, physically restrained and ridiculed, on the verge of a fucking breakdown-

"Don't even try to compare yourself to my mother."

His mother wasn't a bitch. His mother hadn't bought goddamn Hell to Earth!

His mother was in danger.

Like everyone else.

He needed to get back to the academy, make sure she was safe and alive -alive as a machine could be, anyway- that this goddamn apocalypse hadn't claimed her too.

Five would have closed his fists if he were capable of it, tension had once again crept its way into his form, still held still by that goddamn hand threatening to crush him. And part of him wished it would, just to get this over with. Put him out of his misery for once. Let his siblings be the ones to find him dead.

Breathe.

His eyes snapped open abruptly, hollow gaze settling on Bayonetta once more, expression completely blank. He could see her speaking again, couldn't hear her words over the sound of his own rattling breath. So he watched her lips move instead. It was only then he noted the mole, resting at the corner of her mouth. He hummed.

"I can't promise anything." He'd never been one for promises, anyway. "And you can't promise anything, either."

No further words were spoken. But he continued to watch her lips move, silently forming the words she spoke in his mind, offering a half-nod of acknowledgement. He didn't know if he'd try to attack her. Didn't know if he'd simply just shatter.

He felt the urge to laugh.

Was this what madness felt like? After all these hellish years, was he finally losing it?

He didn't even notice the release of pressure from around him, nor the fact that Bayonetta had closed the distance, the fact that she was speaking, again. He didn't hear any of it. Didn't notice any of it.

He was in the apocalypse again. Except, he wasn't. He wasn't in his own body. He wasn't in an environment. He simply... existed. A consciousness within a void. No- Not a void. The ocean. It was like he was beneath the waves, unable to breathe, unable to hear, unable to see. He just drifted. Down and down and down.

Eyes lazily flicked up to meet Bayonetta's own, watching her lips once again as they moved, forming words that meant little to him. There was no reaction to her teasing, no acknowledgement that he was even paying attention, aside from the fact that his gaze rested upon her form.

Was this what death felt like?

"Congratulations, you have discovered how to use your brain."

Why did his voice sound so shaky? So cracked? When had sound even returned?

Why was it so loud?

Why- Why couldn't he make fucking sense of anything?

"I doubt someone with a brain as primitive as yours could even begin to understand." His body spoke on autopilot, words short and clipped. "But I suppose I'll indulge you, as a treat. Consider it a thanks for that lollipop you gave me."

Eyes would flick downward again, staring at the rubble beneath his feet. A corpse briefly flashed in front of his eyes, a skull cracked open, blood staining flesh, staining the ground. A face, with eyes unseeing and blank, eyes that simultaneously stared into him and though him. Eyes that would never see again. Lungs, that would never breathe again. A heart, that would never beat again.

"This has happened before -more than once, actually- not this exact situation. But one like it. The end of the world. The death of life itself. Whatever the hell you want to call the apocalypse."

There was no moon, in that sky.

"And I was stuck there. Forty five years of my existence, living in a world where it was only me. Solitude can fuck with you." A hum. "I suppose I'm a prime example of that, aren't I? I mean, look at me."

He had buried them all. Dug their graves with his own bare hands. It had taken him six days, eight hours and approximately twenty four point nine seconds. He hadn't been able to even so much as look at his hands for months after.

"It was my fault, though. I went against my loving Father's best wishes and time-travelled anyway. And then I got stuck in literal end of the world. I was young, and stupid at the time. So naturally, I didn't know how to get back. My only options were to give up and die like the rest of humanity, which believe me, was tempting at times. Or... Survive. And hope that one day, I'd see my family again." Five shoved his hands into his pockets, exhaling through his nose as his head tilted towards the sky. A laugh escaped him. Bayonetta's speech fell deaf to his ears once more, and he rocked back on his heels ever so slightly, craning his neck back to look further upwards, moisture trickled from his eyes. "Since I am here, you can probably figure out what I did. And if you can't, well you're a fucking idiot."

A diet of bugs and out of date twinkies didn't exactly hold any nutritional value. He'd become little more than skin and bones, a walking skeleton. It was ironic, really, he'd looked more like death than the corpses he'd been surrounded by.

Eyes flicked briefly back over to the taller as he contemplated his next words. "But what does it even matter? This shit keeps on happening. No matter what I do, or who I kill. It still keeps happening. I can't fucking win. I can't!" A hand raised to swipe at the tears that were now openly rolling down his cheeks and he laughed again. "It doesn't matter how many timelines I make, how many versions of myself I run into- It doesn't fucking change!"

Five turned away. He was aware now.He was aware that he was crying. Aware that he couldn't hold himself together any longer. That his legs were shaking, shoulders were shaking, from stress and exhaustion. He was aware that he was displaying weakness. That he'd regret everything later, spend the next few years in total repression, simply because he'd let himself cry. His Father would be rolling in his fucking grave.

And the best part was, he didn't care.

The world was falling apart around him. And he didn't care.

"I was cursed with the ability to manipulate space and time."

Or was it him falling apart? Was this just another sick hallucination? Was she just a manifestation of his imagination? Another being that he'd created, solely because he was so fucking scared of being alone again? A companion, simply to keep his sanity in tact? Dolores had never been this much of a asshole, at least.

"And yet, I can't even change anything."



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nocchi

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as long as there's music, i'll keep on dancing!
❝bayonetta❞
Bayonetta hummed with seemingly piqued interest, or perhaps realization, at the shakiness in Five's voice as he spoke out with attempted snark; the instability in his words only working against his otherwise acerbic remark. Given that feat, the insult would have rolled over the former, as if she hadn't even heard it, only offering a dry chuckle and complimentary smirk in response. "Go on, then," She encouraged whilst eyes narrowed with interest. "Spill it out!" Beneath the cheeky comments lied genuine curiosity, and a desire—no, a need rather—to know more. Although merely pretending that her interest was naught but feigned, there was a stone broiling in the acid of her stomach, both with anticipation and with nervousness: there was a sense that something far deeper was to be uncovered by this boy's tale.

The witch would listen carefully, both eyebrows instinctively raising for only a second at the mention of the end of the world, lips puring around the lollipop stick upon having been perched between them once more. Hearing his description of that time... in the depths of her memory, appearing as little more than blurred chaos, were the corpses of her fellow Sisters lined around and bathed in their own bloodshed, her mother in the center; clutched in her own arms. Succumbing to deep thought—although without dicsarding the boy's still ongoing speech—eyes would fall to the ground, staring at the tips of her own shoes. "The end of the world... Time travel..." She repeated key points of his story silently to herself, eyebrows knitting just slightly. "It can't be..!"

Eyes darted back upwards to make contact with Five's, although was visibly caught off-guard by the sight of tears streaming down his face. Upon seeing that, she flinched and tensed up a bit, a "Little One...!" being called out softly, beneath the breath. She slipped her guns into the depths of her catsuit, just above the open window on her back, the action rendering both of her hands free. With one she plucked the lollipop from her lips again, the other planting itself on the crown of Five's head, fingers gently grasping at the chestnut locks there and using them as leverage to tilt his head upwards; forcing him to look at her. "I thought I told you not to start crying on me, Little One," She reminds in her usual accented purr, simper still engraved on her lips.

"I understand the situation fully now," A quick breath. "I know a way we can undo this, but I'm going to need you for it, Little One." She releases his hair, taking a series of steps back, hand coming to perch on her hip shortly therafter as it had done prior. "We've got to catch the angels before they attacked, before the destruction of this city." Bayonetta instructs with confidence. "You know what that means, don't you?" Another rhetorical question, complimented by a mischievous smirk. "We're going to the past." She clarifies with amusement, a red portal opening up beneath her feet. She draws out a serpentine whip from her catsuit, lashing it out at Five to entangle him in the snake's length, and reel him back in with another strike. Afterwards, she'd release him from the whip's trenches, and put it back from where she had drawn it.

As they had done before, they had sunk into the depths of Hell before arriving at its Gates; the Gates of Hell, naturally.

"Oh, dearest Rodin!" Bayonetta would chime out in something of a sing-songy tone, yet also in a purr.

"Didn't expect to see you back so soon, Bayonetta." The man would coolly respond, arms folded over chest.

Although his eyes masked by tinted sunglasses, Bayonetta seemed to be staring straight passed them and continued. "Well, the boy here needs a weapon. A good one, at that. What have you got?"

"Hmm? That kid? You got a recent soft spot for kids?"

"Ha! Of course not! We've got to stop that angels' wasteland from happening again, so i'm taking the little one with me! After all, he's the one who can help me stop it."

"You fucking with that time travelling shit again, Bayonetta?"
Rodin would ask with a twinge of irritation, a baritone deep exhale escaping him. Without a further word, and as if on cue, the glass stained wall behind him—decked with various bottles of liquor and booze—would flip inside out, a wall laden with various weapons coming out in its stead.

"Well, Little One? You've gotten even Rodin's blessing! Now, isn't that impressive?" She teased, looking to Rodin, who only shook his head with apparent disbelief and irritation. "See anything you fancy? Something that suits your tastes?"

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Maybe it was the fact he was having a goddamn breakdown, or maybe it was just the fact he was touch-starved, but Five did not pull away from Bayonetta as she approached. He didn't recoil at her touch. Didn't hiss, or spit, or attempt to chew off the offending hand. He just stood there. Like he had been for... How long now? He'd lost track of time. He'd lost track of everything. His goddamn mind still couldn't focus. Everything was so still, so tense. As if time itself had simply froze around him.

Part of him even expected to see the Handler appear out of nothing. Assault him again, with her teasing words and feather-light touches. His skin crawled at the thought of it, at the feeling of her phantom hand ghosting over his cheek. He couldn't bring himself to even so much as shudder, hollow gaze simply staring directly ahead, into the blackness of the catsuit that Bayonetta adorned.

For a brief second, Five wished that he was taller. Wished that he was taller, so that his head could come to rest against her chest, so that he could hear her heart. So that he could know that she was alive, that this was real, that she wasn't just some figment of his shattered imagination.

Because how did he know? How did he know that this wasn't just some fucked up dream? That this wasn't just madness taking it's toll on his mind.

How did he know that all of this was even real?

"I don't fucking want to be crying." Five spoke up after a long moments silence, trying to avert his gaze from Bayonetta's own, because he was ashamed. He was ashamed that he was displaying emotion, ashamed that he was openly sobbing, in front of a stranger no less. Ashamed that he was so goddamn weak, that he was acting like a child. "I'd rather eat my own arm. It just won't fucking stop."

He had never been an emotional person. Not as a kid, not as an adult, not as an old man. Number Five had taught himself how to detach himself from his feelings, how to pretend that they never existed, how to ignore them entirely. He'd only ever displayed anger. Nothing more, nothing less. But he supposed even he had a breaking point.

Why did this damn body have to be so hormonal? He hadn't cried once as an adult. Hadn't even been capable of it -that was partly due to dehydration, but even so- he'd never cried.

And he despised the fact he was doing so now.

Why did he suddenly have to care, for god sake?

Why did this woman have to be so damn triggering?

He wanted to rip his damn hair out.

He closed his eyes, forcing a breath out between clenched teeth, wiping at his eyes. It was fine. He was fine. He just had to get a damn grip.

This was survival. And if there was anything he was good at, it was surviving.


"I'm impressed you actually listened to me." Normally, anything he said was just ignored. Because people were stupid, or they didn't understand so they just pretended not to listen. A brow had raised briefly to emphasize his words, before dropping the moment he became concious of the change in expression. "I would have thought someone as self-absorbed as you, would have just ignored me." Despite the spite his words held, his tone didn't reflect it, remaining dry. Professional.

He was a professional. And this was purely business. He was good at business.

"Although, I hate to break it to you-" His hands were shaking again. Five swiftly curled them into fists, shoving them into his pockets where they'd no longer be visible. He set his mouth into a thin line. "-But traveling to the past isn't exactly my forte." It had taken him forty five years to get back to the present, initially. And the second time he'd accidentally scattered his family throughout the nineteen sixties. What if he fucked up again? Got the calculation wrong? Created another goddamn paradox?

No... If this meant he could alter things. He'd do it. Fuck the risks. He'd even die trying, if it meant his family would remain safe.

Five stayed silent for a moment, allowing his nails to dig into his crescent-cut palms, using the brief stab of pain as a means of recollecting himself. A sigh. "It will take a lot of energy out of me." Energy that he didn't have. "Temporal jumps are difficult, to put it-"

A harsh crack cut off his words.

A whip. Who the hell had a-?

"You could have just asked me to come over, asshole." The glare he directed at her was cold, mouth pulled into a disapproving frown, eyebrows knitted together. Although, part of him was still somewhat thankful. His legs felt like they'd give way beneath him if he even attempted to walk. "Instead of whatever the hell this is." Had his hands been free, he would have raised them in an emphasis of the sarcasm that dripped from his mouth, cheeks flushing red. "It's unnecessary. You're just wasting time."

He knew it was likely just an attempt to intimidate, or humiliate him, even. The Handler had never been this forward, but he knew the game all too well. And he knew not to give any satisfaction.

He wasn't intimidated by this. Or embarrased.

He was simply annoyed. That was all.

His head turned as conversation started up again, eyes flicking between Rodin and Bayonetta, taking silent note of the latter's name as he let his gaze settle on her for a few seconds before briskly pulling away, attention drawn by the mention of weapons.

A manic grin soon plastered on his face.

"This kid seems to be the only one present." Five spoke without thought, letting his body operate on pure instinct, focusing solely on the aforementioned tools of violence. "Unless of course, you were referring to her." A hand withdrew from his pocket to jab a thumb in Bayonetta's direction, his other hand drumming impatiently against the inside of his pocket.

Christ, could they just shut up for a second? They were wasting time. Time that they could be using to save the damn world.

A weak flicker of light danced across his eyes as Rodin's weapon rack finally made itself visible. Five jumped towards it on impulse, faltering only for a second to catch his balance, swallowing down the sudden wave of dizziness that had struck him like a goddamn truck.

For a second, his vision faded to black, a wave of dark static clouding his eyes, nausea pooling in his stomach. He could feel the acids burning up his throat. He ignored it.

"I could work with any of these." The Commission had trained him well, even if most of the training had been against his consent. Fingers passed over a dagger, briefly, the pad of his thumb pressing against the blade. It was sharp, could easily cut through flesh and muscle. But it wasn't enough.

He needed firepower. Something he could use to paint the streets slick with crimson, decorate the streets with bone and cartilage. He hummed as his predatory gaze flicked between various guns, they wouldn't work.

He wanted something that would work up close. This was personal. He wanted to see the faces of every sorry fucker that dared to cross him.

His tongue briefly lashed out over his lips, wetting them.

An axe.

He'd used one before. It had made one hell of a mess, but it had got the job done. And besides, he wanted a mess this time. Wanted the only destruction to be caused by him, and him alone.

He needed an outlet, something to redirect his anger towards, this volcano of emotions that continued to fizz and bubble beneath the mask he wore over his face. The grin stretched into a cheshire smile as he gripped the chosen weapon, pupils dilating in the blades reflection. Yes, yes this would work nicely. He just needed to test-

No warning was given. Five had jumped again, relocating in front of the bar, the axe moving in extension of his body, slamming down hard on one of the barstools. He watched, eyes glazed with a manical haze as the stool crumpled before him.

He said nothing for a moment, merely swallowing the bile that had splashed up from his stomach, burning his insides. "This will work." He turned back to face Bayonetta, expression returning to that of stone. "This will work just fine."


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Bayonetta carefully watched Five as he selected a weapon, and she could tell Rodin was doing the same behind the blackened lenses of those shades of his. Occasionally, her eyes would flicker over to the plentiful weapon rack, presented on the backdrop. "Hmm?" She audibly hummed inquisitively, her interest having apparently been piqued at his choice of weapon. "Using a dagger would mean he'd have to be close to the enemy.." She notes, referencing her own preference for long range items like firearms, katana blades, and obscenely large chainsaws. "When it comes to angels, that might be too risky for someone his size.." The angels were crudely large, even in comparison to her own frame. They hadn't ever intimidated her, for she knew that she could defeat them as an Umbran Witch, but this boy was just that: only a boy, with only the ability to manipulate space and time, and seemingly lacking any combat related—or assisting—abilities.

She watched as his hand loosely trailed over the array of firearms presented before him, only ever closing in when it came to the close-range weapons; the ones crafted for a skillfull bludgeoning. This was notable again when his hand wrapped around the shaft of an axe, doing so firmly, she had mentally noted. An eyebrow cocked at the sight of his lips splitting into a Cheshire grin, seemingly pleased by his discovery. Noting his former aggression and murderous urge, Bayonetta remained cautious despite her lackadaisical stance; hand having settled onto the respective hip as usual, although the other casually slanted at her inner thigh. Eyes flinched slightly wider at Five's sudden movement as he carelessly swung the axe about, striking it into one of the stools. As if nothing more than dust, the stool crumbled immediately, legs folding and seat cracking in half: directly down the middle.

"Goddamn it, kid," Spat Rodin, although his tone remaining smooth. "I just bought those fucking stools too!" He proclaimed, throwing his hands into the air for dramatic effect before they returned back to their fold at his chest. "Bayonetta, why's all your company got to be so damn destructive?"

In response, Bayonetta released a light laugh, back of her hand coming to her mouth as though having attempted to stifle it. "Well, how am I supposed to know something like that, Rodin?" The addressed's question had been answered with another, despite both questions being mostly rhetorical in nature. "Charge the amount of reparation to Enzo's tab. With how much that man drinks, I'm sure he won't even notice!" She chimes out, hand loosely brushing the air passed her shoulder as if physically discarding something that had settled there. "And you'll have some company too! I'm sure you'll enjoy that, won't you?" She chuckles somewhat mischievously.

"I ain't never enjoyed the company of that dead-beat ass motherfucker yet."

Bayonetta laughed lightly in response, closing the distance between her and Five. "Impressive," A breath. "But try not to be so reckless, hmm?" Bayonetta ruffles the crown of Five's head like he was a recalcitrant child. "I prefer... well, not to work with those who lack any control. But I do suppose it's fun to tame my pets once in a while." The last part was added in a mumble as if an afterthought, one that trailed behind the rest of her thoughts and had managed to be spoken without much thought.

"Hey, Bayonetta, you better make sure that kid doesn't get his ass murdered on the battlefield. I'm gonna want that weapon back if he does."

"Oh, Rodin, so protective of your craft!"
She exclaims in a way that would imply she believes he's already come to assume the worst, and has blown things out of proportion.

"You know it. Best craftsmanship in the Inferno realm! You'd know wouldn't you, Bayonetta? You take care of that weapon, and there'll be no Hell to pay." Bayonetta simply stared at him, a thin brow raising. "Come on, I gotta say some cheesy shit sometimes."

Chuckling, Bayonetta strides over to the portal in the corner of the bar, standing upon it and beckoning Five to come forth with a gesture. "Charge that axe to Enzo's tab too, will you?"

Rodin chuckled lowly, only stating: "You need something else, you know where to find me."

"Naturally."
Cereza purred out, only then being carried away to Earth's demolished surface once more. "Now," She started, looking down at Five. "How do those powers of yours work?" She asks, never looking anywhere but at who she was talking to as if expectant for him to act. "We'll need to go to the past." The witch reminds him. "Anywhere in the past, before... this happened. Those angels will follow me no matter where or when I am." She'd specify, with a slightly bitter tone at the hindmost portion of her sentence.

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"Yeah, well at least your home is still intact." Lips pulled back into an irritated snarl at Rodin's comment, fingers drumming against the handle with impatience. Who did this guy think he was, complaining about a damn stool? The entire fucking Earth was practically in ruins, and all he could think about was his fucking stool? He felt anger bubble beneath his skin, filling his veins with a liquid fire. Eyes would quickly snap towards Rodin, a sneer plastering across his features. "The whole goddamn planet is in ruins, again." Five hissed, the rhythm of his drumming growing erratic, off-beat. "And all that matters to you is this fucking stool?"

Maybe he should break another.

Or all of them.

Just to fucking show this asshole what destruction looked like.

He knew destruction. Because he was destruction. He left nothing but destruction in his wake. Everything he fucking touched seemed to crumple, as if his hands spread death itself.

That goddamn broken stool wasn't destruction. But this would be-

His thoughts silenced, and he lowered the axe that he hadn't noticed was raised. The action had caused another tidal wave of bile to rise up his throat, arms sagging as he blinked away the discomfort. Right. Fuck. He was still low on juice. Shit shit shit. How the hell was he supposed to regain some damn energy? Did this asshole have any food lying around? He'd steal one of those damn lollipops, but he doubted it would provide a high enough calorie count to keep his body going. Shit, when was the last time he'd even remembered to eat something?

A week ago? Two weeks?

It would probably explain the nausea. And the light-headedness. And the general exhaustion that his body seemed to be suddenly aware of.

Shit... That was problematic.

"Are you Neanderthals done talking yet? I'm sick of standing here and letting my brain cells rot just listening to you idiots converse." Five's lip twitched, gaze growing erratic as he continued to scan the bar for something, anything possible for consumption. He did not want to be attempting a temporal jump with no energy. He'd done it before, and been practically comatose for the next two weeks. Dolores had been frantic trying to wake him up. He didn't want to worry her like that again, she didn't deserve it.

He still couldn't find any damn food and he sure as Hell wasn't going to ask for any, either. He wasn't some damn child in need of feeding. He could do it himself. He just had to find something edible.

Which wouldn't be here, because Bayonetta had finally stopped talking, which meant they would finally be moving. "About time." The comment was muttered out under his breath, restless gaze falling back to her as he approached, axe slung over his shoulder carelessly. He scanned the familiar surroundings, briefly, before returning his attention to the woman before him, expression cold. "Yeah, no shit." He almost scoffed at her, but swiftly shut his mouth, gaze dropping as he contemplated what to say.

Of course she'd need an explanation. Everyone always did. Why could no-one just take his damn word? Put some trust in him for once? He was sick of explaining things to people. A weak sigh left his mouth as he shifted to lean heavily against the axe, staring up at Bayonetta with a sluggish gaze. "Well, they're fuelled by energy." It was a starting point, one that would likely lead onto admitting the fact that he had none, but even so, he might as well be asking for a death sentence otherwise. "The more energy I have, the easier it is to pull off a successful jump." Pause. "Or multiple jumps."

His gaze latched onto something out of the corner of his eye. An insect, of some sort. It had always been hard to pick them out, given that they seemed to blend into the destruction. But he could see it, crawling, on the dirt nearby. He continued to watch it as he continued to speak. "Temporal jumps, as in actual time travel are trickier. It's harder to get the exact calculation right so I end up where I want to be and not-" Not stuck in the future. Alone. Unable to get back for forty five years. "-They use up a lot of energy, too." Which was why he'd never have been able to make it back without the Commission, as much as he despised them, despised killing, despised pulling the trigger on innocents -men, women, children- they'd saved his life. They'd saved the lives of his siblings.

Five would have never gotten back to the present without them.

He silenced as his attention was fully consumed by the nearby insect, momentarily letting his axe drop to the ground to straighten up, walk over to it, pluck it off the ground.

A cockroach. Tasted like shit, but it would do. Until he found something better, that was.

He hopefully wouldn't pass out within the next ten minutes or so, at least.

Starvation had a habit of making him feel faint, and it didn't help that he wasn't in top shape, either. His free hand drifted over his abdomen, over the shrapnel wound that was concealed behind a thick layer of bandages, that still hadn't had the chance to fully heal. "And unfortunately-" Five's speech drifted off as the cockroach vibrated in his grip, his eyes flicking back to it, watching it's feeble attempts to escape. Acid bubbled in his stomach. "-Survival doesn't allow for any rest."

It tasted just as awful as he remembered, not stale-twinkie awful, but bad enough that he had to physically supress the urge to spit it out. He couldn't let it go to waste. He'd die. Food had to be rationed, consumed carefully, if he spat it out, he might not eat again for a week. He might die in a week. And he couldn't die. He couldn't. If he died, everyone else died. He could stop this apocalypse, he just needed to live-

He swallowed, turned back to Bayonetta, stare hollow once-more, lips pulled into a subtle frown. He still felt like shit, but fortunately, shit was a feeling he was used to. He could tolerate it.

"I'd be putting myself at risk even attempting a jump right now."



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Bayonetta listened carefully to the other's explanation, humming shortly after he had finished it as if to insinuate that she had processed his elucidation of how his ability worked, and had come to understand it at least partially. "If that's the case.." She started with something of a dwindling tone in a manner that suggested she was to carry on speaking shortly. "Then we should get you something to eat, I presume." Her tone had a slight vocal fry to its otherwise accented purr, and she spoke like the boy's needs had posed themselves as naught but a nuisance. Upon having said that, icy irises would blanket over the demolished surroundings, the witch audibly humming with displeasure at the lack of confectioneries—or, at the least, their remnants. Though, one could suppose they would be hard to spot in the city's current state and its notable lack of signs, and therefore, direction by extension.

When Five came to a somewhat abrupt and uncharacteristic hush, Cereza audibly hummed inquisitively as if attempting to determine the cause of his silence. With that, eyes would fall back down as they reverted back to the former's stature, taking notes of his movements as she attempted to figure out exactly what in the hell he was doing. Optics followed his hands which caressed the floor with his fingers, scooping up an insect into their tips: a roach, no less. As though on cue, Bayonetta visibly flinched, the tension in her muscles remaining as she distanced herself from Five with a series of quick backsteps, a slight jump in her hasty movements. Her hands became disdainfully raised ith likely intent of warding off any closed distance between herself and that thing pinched between his fingers.

"Ugh!" She groaned out, eyebrows having come to a minute knit. "Didn't I tell you that one of the things I hate the most are cockroaches?" She asks knowingly, her voice vibrating with repulse. "First, I was expected to console a crying child, and now there's a fucking cockroach!" With exasperation, Cereza only took in a half-inhale before continuing. "It's like this fucking universe is out to get me!" She let out another disgusted groan, slightly fused with a sigh of exhaustion as she turned her back to Five, having saw the first bit of him plopping that wretched thing into his mouth. A deep inhale was taken in through agape lips.

"If you're so quick to stoop as low as eat that in a time of distress, I almost wonder whether or not I'd be better off handling this alone, Little One," Her tone had returned to its usual velvety drone. She hummed as though giving that hypothesis a bit of thought. "Well, you'd better be lucky that you've got that ability of yours. Otherwise, I'd leave you here to dine on all the cockroaches you want!" She bites off the word 'cockroaches' with an aggressive clack, further reflecting her disdain for the aforementioned. "Once you're done feasting, I recommend you follow me to find something that will actually give you energy." That clack's remains are audible throughout her speech, although now with a more passive-aggressive sound.

"We've got to get you feeling well enough to be able to jump, yes?" She trickles out into silence with deep thought, hand settling on her hip as she looks toward the city for an answer. "What do you reckon will get you feeling well enough? Other than eating, of course." Because she had already kept in mind, already took a mental note to intentionally look out for food. Actual food; both palatable and edible. Nutrition wasn't a priority, so long as it didn't come from cockroaches.

A limply bent wrist—pointed towards the sky—would tilt to its respective side, lollipop loosely draped from between her middle and forefinger as it had been prior. "In the mean time," She starts, "This lollipop will likely relieve you of any side effects of fatigue." She notes, glancing to her side. "And don't drop it this time."

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"And I thought I made it quite clear that I hate you. And yet, you're still here." Despite his irritable words, the complaints from Bayonetta were enough to evoke a weak smirk on his lips, eyebrows raising momentarily in amusement. They dropped again shortly after as his expression shifted again, back to it's former apathy, offering a shrug as she spoke again. "Well I guess we have that in common." A faux smile. "The only break I've had in all fifty eight years of my existence, was when I passed out from blood loss a couple of weeks ago." Shit. Had he even changed the bandages on that? It could get infected, and he did not need to be dealing with sepsis on top of everything else.

Five briefly allowed himself to turn away from the taller, standing so that his front was -mostly- out of sight from her. A hand slipped down to the bottom of his shirt, a quick sigh slipping out from between his teeth as he tugged the garment up, eyeing his abdomen with a frown. He didn't exactly know what he was trying to achieve, he couldn't tell if his wound was infected unless he removed the bandages. Maybe it was just for some sick kind of reassurance. A 'hey, you've still got that shrapnel wound from two weeks ago all of this is real'. "There wasn't exactly much else to survive on in the apocalypse." He dropped the shirt and turned back to face Bayonetta, arms slowly folding across his chest, lips pulled into a thin line of annoyance. "At least I didn't resort to cannibalism." Not that he hadn't considered it, when his stomach acids were eating him alive from the inside out, when he was in too much pain to even walk. He was almost thankful for the maggots that had been dining on the corpses he'd come across.

Maggots didn't make a particularly good meal, either.

"And once again, you are more than welcome to just fuck off. I don't want you here." Five spoke with no bite to his words, eyes gazing upon her own momentarily in a challenging manner, before flicking away to the surroundings. He wasn't stupid. As much as he hated to admit it, and as much as he hated her, he needed this woman. She had knowledge of these... Biblical things. He didn't. A snarl threatened to spill as she spoke again, eyes falling upon her once more. "Think of it this way, alright? Either I eat that cockroach, or, I pass out and completely am useless to you. What would be better?" He still felt faint, not as bad as before, not on the brink of collapse.

But she was right.

He needed something better.

...Shit.

His attention was pulled back by further speech, his own hand coming to settle upon his hip in a mirror of her actions. "Well, I wouldn't mind a drink. Something strong. Whiskey could work, or vodka. Although, my favorite has always been a margarita." He could almost hear Dolores scolding him for his mention of drink. She'd never liked his habit. Never liked watching him drink into a self-induced coma. He didn't blame her. "Coffee. It's kept me going for throughout preventing the past two apocalypses." Pause. "Sleep would also be beneficial. But we don't have the time to waste on that." Besides, he'd gone almost forty five years without proper sleep and hadn't died yet. He didn't need it to function.

He just... Needed energy. It didn't matter where that energy came from.

"Is this your answer to everything?" Five couldn't bring himself to resist, shooting a glare up at Bayonetta before snatching the lollipop out of her hand, letting it rest loosely between his own fingers. He said nothing further, biting down another comment as his lips pressed back into a line, huffing as he placed the candy in his mouth, still holding the stick between his fingers. He doubted it would do much, sure, sugar might be beneficial. And he might not consume enough of it for his body to be functioning optimally. But even so, he still felt like shit.

His head ached. His stomach ached. Everything ached.

And it didn't fucking help that everything felt so damn heavy.

God, he wished Dolores was here. She'd always been the wise one, the sensible one, the one able to talk him through things when it got too hard. On the days where he struggled to get up, see a point in all this, struggled to keep going when he was in so much fucking agony.

She'd know what to do. She always had.

But she wasn't here.

His grip tightened on the stick, teeth grinding into the hard shell of the lollipop, his other hand twitching at his side. Dolores would die if he didn't stop this. She'd die, like the rest of his family. He couldn't lose them. He'd have nothing. He'd be nothing.

"It tastes like diabetes." Pause. His attention was fully on Bayonetta, observing her features through heavy eyelids, a soft huff escaping his nostrils. Why'd she have to be so damn infuriating? Even looking at her made his blood boil.

She was nothing like Dolores. Dolores was sweet, and kind and gentle and warm. He could open up to her, talk without fear of judgement, curl up against her when the nights got cold, and loneliness plagued his mind. She'd been his anchor, throughout the apocalypse. His tether to reality, what kept him sane.

Tired eyes remained on Bayonetta, expression blank as he let the ruckus of his mind consume his sense. Bayonetta was an opposite to that, an opposite to Dolores. An opposite to her kindness, to her comfort, to her anchor.

Maybe that was why he hated her.

Maybe his tired mind craved that company, craved Dolores.

And she wasn't here.

...God, he was so fucking tired.
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