headed straight for a meltdown

a thing i had banging around in my head. it needs a new name, all i’ve called it is ‘genre mash’. it might evolve into something else, i dunno yet.

“You,” he says quietly, his voice dangerous. He looks like a rabid dog, he looks at her like he wants her to drop dead where she stands.

She doesn’t stand to greet him. Merely spreads her arms, letting her elbows hang off the sides of the arm chair, with a grin. “Me,” she says simply.

He struggles against the burly men holding him, grunting and spitting with impotent anger. “You, you, you. How dare you,” he snarls, and she takes inordinate pleasure in his ghastly appearance. His expensive suit is ripped at the shoulders, covered in dust and his face looks like it’s been on the losing end of a fight with the pavement.

She tuts gently. “Look at you, poor boy.” She crooks her fingers and the men drag him closer to her. She leans forward and he snaps at her fingers angrily. It just makes her grin all the wider when she slaps him hard, snapping his head to the side, and when he attempts to reorient himself, she’s delighted to see that his eyes don’t quite focus.

She gently picks off the largest piece of gravel still embedded in his face, and flicks it off to the side. She slides her hand along his jaw, tilts his face towards her and coos at him, her voice saccharine and entirely devoid of pity.

“So sorry about the rough treatment oppa, but I’m sure you understand.”

He grits his teeth and doesn’t say anything. She continues, gesturing vaguely at the old warehouse and its many boxes of shipping. “After all, the Kims do not take very kindly to having their territory encroached on, and stealing those shipments was a no-no.”

He spits at her, and she is too slow in avoiding the glob of blood. It splatters against the black lapel of her jacket, flecks against the right collar of her white shirt and jaw. The sound of disgust she makes is soft and automatic. She flicks her fingers, and the bodyguards drag him away, his feet kicking uselessly.

“Fuck you, Kim Taeyeon, you dog.”

She tuts, shrugging out of the black jacket and wiping her face with it before discarding it carelessly on the dusty floor. “Now, now Teukie, is that any way to speak to your cute little dongsaeng?”

“You’re not anyone!” He bellows vehemently. “I’d never acknowledge a traitorous scumbag like you!”

She shrugs. “Shame.” She turns, flicking her hand in a shooing gesture. “Just get rid of him somewhere, okay? Chop him up, ship it out to sea and dump it; piss in it, something. I don’t care.”

“You do that, and you face the wrath of the sea!” He roars.

She looks at him over her shoulder. “Really,” she asks flatly.

She watches as he struggles to his feet, a pitiful attempt to salvage some dignity of the situation. “You are speaking to a son of Poseidon, know your place,” he says, his voice taking on an odd gravity. Like it expects obedience and respect, like that is the only appropriate reaction to hearing the name ‘Poseidon’.

And ordinarily, it would be. Most people in the world would have only the protection or blessing of their chosen gods, achieved through prayer and regular offerings. Having something so direct as a blood lineage, no matter how watered down it may be, would be more than enough to elevate someone’s status, especially in this part of the world; where might makes right, and power is the sole ruling structure of the Underground.

She jerks her head towards the door, and the bodyguards kick him down again, dragging him over to to it. She follows after them languidly.

They drag him out to the edge of the wharf. At this point, his tailored pants are ripped at the knees and blood is seeping through.

“You’re bleeding,” she says. “You wanna bleed in the water? Call out a bunch of your fish friends to help you out.”

He growls, and the tide that crashes against the concrete is suddenly more violent that before. The bodyguards tense, but still they don’t let go of him. The tide recedes. “Insolent,” he says. And with that one word, a giant wave washes over the bodyguards and Leeteuk, dragging them into the sea.

Taeyeon doesn’t move. She watches disinterested, as Leeteuk rises out of the sea on a pillar of water made solid by the sheer amount of it. Her men are nowhere in sight.

“Grovel, and beg for your life, you miserable insect!” He yells, his eyes grey and stormy like the churning sea.

All she does is smile.

“Make me, bastard of Poseidon.”

He swings his hand, and a torrent of water rises out of the sea and directs itself at her.

A human body, upon contact with such a dense body of water, would ordinarily be crushed. The pain of it would be unimaginable.

Ordinarily.

She is far from it.

She lets the torrent of water crash into her, lets every bit of it soak into her clothes and skin. And when the pillar of water passes, she hasn’t moved an inch.

Leeteuk stops. “Wha-”

“Too bad for you,” she says, shaking the wet strands of her platinum hair out of her face. “But I’m also a bastard.”

Storm clouds gather overhead, and thunder rumbles in the distance.

“Except my good for nothing dad is Zeus.” Her eyes flash blue.

The sky splits, and lightning strikes the pillar of water. Leeteuk doesn’t scream – isn’t even spared the time to scream. The lightning atomizes him on the spot, and the water explodes, high into the sky.

When it rains back down, it is pink with the bits of what used to be the Lees’ fixer.

“Don’t you think you’ve gone overboard?”

Taeyeon turns. Under a black umbrella with an obscenely pink under lining, stands a being so beautifully breathtaking, she rightly should have been called the ‘daughter of Aphrodite’.

“Miyoung.” Taeyeon says simply, in greeting.

“Don’t call me that,” Tiffany snaps.

Taeyeon laughs. “To what do I owe the pleasure then, Heiress Hwang?”

“Not that either,” she says, approaching to shelter the wet Taeyeon under her umbrella. “Daddy wants to see us. You need to get changed.”

Taeyeon leans in, and Tiffany pecks her chastely on the lips. “Will you help me with it then, love?” Taeyeon asks.

“The meeting is in two hours, but I have to speak with Sunny about,” Tiffany makes a face, wrinkling her nose distastefully at the pink seawater on the wharf. “…this. So we’ll see.”

“Ah, should I not have exploded him?”

“No, no. It’s what he asked for, drowning my men and acting out on his own like that. We’ll just have to be more careful from now on,” she says, shrugging delicately.

Taeyeon laughs. “Funny you should mention ‘care’, scion of war.”

Tiffany’s eyes flash red for one dangerous second. “You would be wise not to call me that.”

Taeyeon lifts both hands in surrender. “Of course, my darling.” She motions for the umbrella, and Tiffany gives it to her as they walk to the car. “Whatever you say.”

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5 thoughts on “headed straight for a meltdown

  1. …And once again, just like 8moon, you start something that we really want you to continue and eventually finish. 😂😂😂😂

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