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muertarte · 11 months

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TIMING: Current

PARTIES: Chuy (written by Hera!) @muertarte

SUMMARY: Metzli finally agrees to meet with Chuy in hopes of settling everything. Things take a turn for the worse when he reveals a painful truth.

WARNINGS: Emotional abuse

The attack on Eleanor was the last straw, biding for time no longer an option. Staying glued to the seat of strategy was proving fruitless anyway. They’d reached out and waited until there was finally a response. Metzli hurried and all but ran, rely on hope to keep their body moving toward the destination the message had given them, despite how they’d slowed their stride the closer they got. Surely it had to be Chuy who’d sent it, Metzli was sure of it, but that did little to quell the fear that weighed on the vampire.

How strange, really. They’d never really known fear while in the clan. Being a perfect soldier meant they had little to fear in regards to their life. They were expendable, another soldier ready to continue where they fell, though Metzli never did. With a swallow, the cemetery came into view, other vampires lurking around the perimeter.

The numbers alone should’ve given them pause, but that wasn’t what caused the noose around their neck to tighten. Seeing two guards at the entrance of the crypt gripped Metzli in totality, the knowledge that their old friend–the new leader–was just yards away. How much had Chuy changed? What had they done to make him so angry that he’d go so far as to travel to Maine and hurt Metzli’s friends? They had to find out.

They continued forward, walking stoically past every so-called guard. Must’ve all known who they were and why they were there, Metzli supposed. Otherwise, that would further prove just how badly managed the clan was now. It was a little too easy to take down the ones that Metzli had managed to run into, but that was a thought for later.

Taking a quiet but deep breath, they trudged forward, allowing the darkness to swallow them until the light of a single torch began to lay in front of them. Brows furrowed with confusion. Metzli looked right, then left, and were on the brink of turning around until everything went black with thunder booming through their head.

There had been no good reason to let Metzli live and thrive for this long. Sentiment, perhaps? A reward for overthrowing the man who would be king, who had been content to let Chuy rot in the shadows cast by Eloy’s overbearing rule? Figuring that a broken, one armed fledgling wouldn’t matter in the grand scheme of things? Whatever the reason, it had long since been time to end it. Chuy had been wrong in thinking that Metzli’s continued existence would not cause problems and he hated being wrong. Almost as much as he loathed the whispers of a revolt, hushed conversations about whether or not the mindless soldier could prove to be a better leader than him.

Him, who had rescued them all from Eloy’s oppression, who kept their clan large and powerful? And they would prefer the quiet artist to lead them, the one that could not even lead themselves? Chuy knew that he was the right leader, the only leader for this clan, but leaving things up to chance had never proven successful. Showing them the Metzli he knew would persuade them all, prove once and for all what the elder knew deep in his cold, still heart.

A feeling of everything falling into place settled over him as an aggravatingly familiar shape was dragged into the dimly lit room, their body dropped on the stone tiles. Chuy sighed in an almost fond way, standing from the makeshift seat some might call a throne, fashioned from the crumbled stones in abundance here. Metzli looked like their own person, with a hairstyle and clothes they undoubtedly picked out themselves. He didn’t like that. With a sniff at their stump of an arm, Chuy gave a wave of his hand, the order to make sure the fledgling didn’t do anything they might regret. They were strong, that much was true, and he needed to make sure they wouldn’t interrupt what was to come.

Black dusted the edge of their vision, dim light barely discernible for several moments. Metzli groaned, frown deepening at the way their head began to pound. The pain emanated from one particular spot at the base where their skull and spine met. So the attack came from behind, and the torch was used as a distraction. Not a bad plan, all things considered. Metzli would’ve normally been on alert, but thanks to how lax the security was and how easy it was to take down what vampires were thrown at them, they dropped their guard. Idiot.

“Where am I? Where…?” Metzli shuddered at the sight of Chuy sitting coyly at a makeshift throne. His energy was different before. Still the same, moody demeanor with a tinge of loathing practically radiating from him. “Chuy? So it is��argh!” A fledgling socked Metzli in the face, berating them for not calling their long-time friend Master Jesus. It seemed idiotic, but fine, they’d comply. They just needed answers.

“Master Jesus…” They began with a sigh, speaking in their native tongue. “What are you doing? Why do all this? What did I do to make you so angry with me?” Metzli rolled their shoulders and flexed their fingers, doing their best to get comfortable against the firm grips around their entire body. It was kind of nice to see Chuy taking some actual measures for once. Everything had been so messy up until then.

After all this planning, all of the waiting and painstakingly making sure each piece fit where it needed to ensure success, the simple act of waiting for Metzli to come to was unbearable. There were hushed whispers, looks exchanged as each clan member took in their old camerada, or for some as they got their first look at the esteemed Metzli. Finally, there was a stir and Chuy raised a hand, bringing dead silence to the dark room. Soon, he would have the power to silence every whisper, every doubt.

A hint of a smile played on his lips when punishment was doled out on his behalf and what a joy it was to not get unfairly punished right alongside Metzli. For their mistakes, for their wrongdoings. His fledgling started again and as the innocent questions rolled off their tongue, Chuy stood and slowly advanced closer. “Oh, cariño,” he sighed, stopping an arm’s length away, eyes boring down on them. “You were a mistake, that is all. Or the mistake, I suppose, was making you think for a moment you were more than a mindless soldier.” He moved away again, arms crossed behind his back as he made sure he had the attention of every clan member present.

“I guess some of the blame lies with me,” he continued, circling the room, feeling Metzli’s presence. “Giving you the idea for a revolt, making you think it was yours, of course it was bound to bring up some… resistance.” Chuy gave the revelation a moment to sink in, not just for Metzli but for everyone present. They had not been the one to plan Eloy’s downfall, not on their own. Everything Metzli had done, everything they were, was his. They needed to know that and so did everyone else.

“But mostly… I suppose I just expected better things from you. Seeing as you are my creation, after all.”

The whispers around the room were difficult to ignore. Some mentioned the wrong person was on the throne, while others hissed for Metzli’s demise to come quickly. Either way, everyone in the room wanted to get the show on the road. At least on that, they could all agree. Even Metzli. The energy Chuy was emitting reminded them of Eloy, and they supposed that was fitting. Chuy had made it clear that he held a great hatred for the way things were run, fully dedicated to the coup when the concept went from idea, to a full blown plan.

If Metzli wasn’t coordinating, he took the reins, more than excited to reach the finish line to freedom. But…be that as it may, it turned out to be an illusion. A facade that Metzli had fallen for so easily. They began to shake, tugging against the hands restraining them as Chuy continued to speak. The more they heard, the more their stomach continued to sink into a never-ending pit. No idea was theirs then, it seemed, but there was something just under Chuy’s tone that set Metzli on edge. Like he was leading up to some big…reveal.

Their eyes widened and the room broke into whispers once more. The gravity of the truth made the world swirl, blurring in and out of focus. “What? W-what?” Metzli gagged, nausea developing like a surge through their stomach. “You’re not. You’re…!” It was all clicking into place, memories of Metzli and Chuy’s nights spent together, planning. They had shared dinners, they’d even managed to make Chuy laugh. “You’re lying! You’re lying!” More than once he had said they were family, and having never truly had one before, Metzli latched onto him so without hesitation. And it was all, for what? A sick plan to manipulate them and torture them without their knowing? All while they believed Eloy was the only monster to blame. Turns out though, evil hid well behind the veil of friendship, tricking those desperate enough to believe.

“You did this to me?!” Metzli attempted to rush forward, stopped short. They fell straight onto their face, the vampires holding them following suit and keeping them pressed into the dirty ground. “We are supposed to be family! You said we would free everyone!” They growled, continuing to fight and thrash. Billions of ants crawled beneath their skin, each step in their march burning worse and worse. “Eloy made me! He controlled me! This doesn’t make any sense!”

Their reaction was music to his ears. Disbelief, anger, uncertainty. Every emotion swirling out of Metzli in such an uncoordinated way, proving just why they were unfit to lead. They were too unstable, too broken, and with this simply being the first step to make everyone else see that, Chuy felt rather good about his odds. They attempted to appeal to him, appeal to a humanity that felt so, so far away. Sure, there had been moments where he had let himself just be, not focus on the grand scheme of things, but none of that was more important than this. Than setting things right.

“I did free everyone,” he corrected calmly, voice loud enough to once again quiet some of the whispers. It did little to silence Metzli’s trashing but they could be allowed to make a fool of themselves. With them now on the ground, Chuy stepped closer, feet stopping at the edge of their frantic face. “Eloy was the one that wanted to keep you on a leash, didn’t want anyone to know his favorite soldier was really mine. So I did what he asked, forged you into the perfect weapon. I see where he was coming from, now. You’re useless like this. Frantic, emotional.”

“Stop! Stop!” They didn’t want to hear it anymore. Lies were the worst thing to listen to, they detested the concept, and they loathed people who used such a disgusting tool. Metzli could feel the tears stinging the corners of their eyes as Chuy paid their pleas no mind. He picked them apart, toying with them until the ants began to truly dig into their nerves with no reprieve. They felt powerless to stop it all, reason becoming harder and harder to latch onto. Their mind became an echo of words even they couldn’t decipher, any sense they had dissolving quickly.

All Metzli could use was unbridled panic, almost willing to let their arm break as they pulled it in the wrong direction in an attempt to get away. “I’m not yours! I’m free! Do you hear me?! I’m free!” They all but shrieked, sobs beginning to make their voice hiccup uncontrollably. It was the most emotion Metzli had felt up until then. They would have usually minded displaying such an overreaction, but it could be accepted and allowed. It was further proof of just how free they were. “See?! I can feel everything now! I’m free! So you’re lying! I hate liars!”

Of course they would refuse to believe him, too weak to handle the truth. Always too weak, clinging onto notions like ‘family’. Metzli trashed and he gave the order to pull them to their feet even though they didn’t have the composure to fully stand. “You are mine. Always have been, always will be,” Chuy hissed and switched back to a language not all of the vampires knew, moving in closer than he had before, clawed fingers finding Metzli’s face. It was disgustingly contorted in their grief and anger - this was who he’d been punished alongside all those years, who the people thought could lead them?

Chuy grabbed the single arm that remained, grip tight, and gestured for the others to back off. He could take it from here, could handle the broken husk in front of him. Holding them steady, he leaned in to deliver words meant only for them. “You will not mind in a moment but it’s important that you know this. We were never family. Your existence has been a burden for me every step of the way.” He leaned back again, forcing tear stained eyes to meet his own, burning brightly. Compelling. “You don’t need those emotions. You can’t feel them anymore. You will ruin everything just like you always have.”

#wickedswriting #writings #bloody ink #chuy and metzli #c: chuy #los sombras #big man little dignity #emotional abuse tw

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