Bandages and Salt (PJO X BSD AU)

Chapter Sixty-six

A/N: For those upset by Kunikida's reaction in the last chapter, sorry? Honestly, I can't really see him being immediately accepting of Dazai/ Percy after finding out that he's basically the mafia's boogeyman. Plus him turning on Dazai/Percy goes with the theme of Dazai/Percy loosing all of the things that he doesn't want to, so I thought that fit.

Song used is Summertime Sadness, by Lana Del Ray. If you think this chapter is cheesy, that's fine, I kinda do too. But when I couldn't get it out of my head, I said screw it and put it in here. 

Also, the missing moments recommendations are open until this book is marked finished. One or two more suggestions would be nice so that it will be a little bit longer.

Third Person POV

There was a horrified look on Kunikida's face that matched the stricken one that the President wore, aging his features took look much older than he truly was. Both had heard the stories of the Demon Prodigy, the right hand of the Port Mafia boss, but even with the brunet's connections to those within the mafia, no one had thought that the detective and the Black Wraith would be one in the same.

Ranpo and the President both had suspected the bandaged man to be high ranking within the organization, or at least valuable to it, as he was allowed to live after betraying it - after being 'pushed out,' the President recalled - but neither had fully suspected this.

"Oh," Mori started with a lightly inquisitive voice that made Dazai want to scream until his vocal cords tore themselves apart, because he knew that the other was playing a game with his life. One that, once again, the bandaged man was powerless to stop. "You didn't tell them?" The doctor asks innocently, but they both know that it is anything but.

Mori reaches out and grabs the younger man's chin, holding it tightly within his grasp as if the other were his property. He was in a way, they each knew that Dazai was only with the detective agency now because the boss allowed it, a privilege he could take at any time should the man decide that the Agency was more trouble than it was worth. Even such a skilled organization would fall to the emense man - power that Mori possed should he choose to divert it all. There was powers in numbers after all.

Even free Dazai still belonged the doctor, and right now he was enjoying watching the younger tense in his grip.

In quick move, Dazai had a knife at the older man's throat, knocking the hand aside, and Mori had a too sharp smile on his lips, one that sought blood should the detective let it.

"Don't touch me," Dazai all but snarled, venom in his voice as he skin crawled from where the touch had been, enough that he wanted to claw it off even after all this time.

Especially after all this time.

There were gaurds in the room in seconds, ones that Dazai knew that the boss had called in specially on standby for this, always one for theatrics so long as they suited his needs. And this so clearly did. Dazai wanted to regret bringing along Atsuhi and Kunikida, but he had long suspected that it would come to something like this - guns pointed at the detecitve's head, each a deadly shot as Kunikida watched with too cold eyes and Atsushi was held back by Akutagawa. The President and the Hatrack still in their spots, knowing any movement coukd prove to be a wrong one - and lies were such exhausting things to uphold.

He knew he didn't have much time left, a self imposed clock flickering above his head, and the truth was hard enough to break anyone.

"You won't shoot me," the former mafioso said confidently, with more courage than he felt though he knew it to be true.

"Oh?" The mafia boss asks, almost coyly as he looks as the bandaged man. "And why is that?"

Neither had moved from their places, the knife was still just as pressed into the doctor's throat as it had been only a moment before, but to the pair the scene was different than it was to any of the others witnessing it. To them - to the monsters portraying themselves as humans - they were in a different office where a boy sat on a stool while the doctor sat at his desk, each of them unable to kill the other or truly let them die no matter how much they might hope to, even as promises of poison spilled from one's lips.