Crystallized Ideals [Abel]

[Lovino Vargas]

He's the meanest little kitty...

Hearing knuckles cracking when he was about to pass out was one of the most sickening moments of his life, though it happened all too often. The popping noise of joint against joint, the footsteps, the snickering around him coming from sick humans who enjoyed watching arena fights... It all was mixing in with his blood dripping onto the floor. Like a damaged stuffed animal, he stayed limp against the floor in hopes for the match to end, or for the opposing mutant to finally put an end to his misery. Instead what he received was a soft apology from his 'enemy', and a tightening grip around his throat at his jugular, in which caused him to flinch and squirm in spot, his limbs kicking and thrashing. It didn't take long for the weakened cat to pass out from lack of oxygen and the bell was rung right after.

When Lovino came back to, he found himself being carried back to the hallway where the cells lined up, one small space next to the other, separated by walls and bars. His ears gave a small flick as they passed by his ex-room, being told that they were shuffling mutants around again for the cleaning to take place. Lovino honestly couldn't care enough.

His body ached. His ribs hurt every time he breathed, and though the blood stopped dripping to the floor due to it being wrapped up tight with bandages, the olive green orbs spotted the crimson red seeping and soaking through the material and hardening against his once-white fur.

"You got beat up pretty badly in there." He heard the comment, and Lovino just sighed, closing his eyes. This guard in particular wasn't one that Lovino despised; he provided food often and had the heart at least to bandage up wounds even for a bait like himself. The blond hair and the peppermint scent is what the cat mutant recognized him by.

"...I can walk." Lovino mewled, insisting on getting put down. Once the guard stopped long enough to nod and place him down, he shifted to his much taller human form, wincing when bones shifted and grazed along one another to be put in the right place. His legs luckily were left undamaged, so he managed to stand up with the help the guard offered and limped behind him, using his tail for balance by holding it up straight.

"This is your new cell for a bit." The guard stated after he stopped by one of the several that looked exactly the same, except for a number plate to the side, rusty and hard to read. With a simple nod, the guard moved to unlock the gate and helped the injured boy inside, closing and locking it afterwards. Without another word, the worker left for his next task, leaving Lovino slumping down against the bars and sigh. It didn't take him long to sniff out the scent of another mutant in the room, and he gave a small hiss, looking up to spot the blond hair; the owner of the male scent.

"...." Lovino said nothing to greet the other, simply giving him a cold, empty glare, wincing at his wounds at the small movement. His brown tail lashed beside him and his ears flattened against his head in hostility, not liking how he had to share a cell with another when he was alone in his last cell.

Word Count: 571

Tags: @rarirurero

Notes: I hope this is okay...

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[Deleted]

As much as Abel liked tidiness, he wasn't a fan of the scheduled cell cleanings, not one bit; getting pulled from the 'comfort' of his segregation cell to be herded into regular cells with the other mutants like common cattle never failed to piss the Dutch mutant off. If there was ever a time - apart from the auctions and arena fights, of course - that he felt like an animal being held in a cage, it was then. And, from what he'd observed, he wasn't the only one either; most everyone was a bit on edge during the shuffling process, as was understandable. After all, you were ripped from your 'home' and thrust into a completely new environment with a potentially pissed off and violent mutant, able to rip you a new one were you unlucky enough not to possess a strong enough power to properly protect yourself.

Abel himself was rarely the target of such lashings, but he had seen them occur from behind his own cell's bars - and he had ended up in brawls a couple of times. Not that he minded, really. If anything, he always welcomed the opportunity to let out steam and instill his dominance over his peers; he could claim control over very few things in his life, so he didn't hesitate to take the chances given and boss around those he could. He didn't consider it particularly vile, either; such was the way of life, especially life in prison. The strong ruled over the weak.

But more than all that, more than hating to be pushed around and stuck in a cell with another, Abel hated the simple fact that cleaning hours made it impossible for him to smoke without being caught. How could he hide the smoke and the act itself, when there were more than a dozen eyes everywhere around him in the surrounding cells and the hallway? He could be sneaky when he wanted to - but not that sneaky. His daily nicotine douses were simply an impossibility. It pissed him off and made him somewhat fidgety.

What could he say, he had an addiction.

Just then, the sound of footsteps signaled the arrival of Abel's new, temporary roommate. With an indifferent grunt, the man turned his head lazily towards the door. He was sitting on the rusty-legged bed of his cell, back against the wall and one hand resting on his leg, one holding a stick he had in his mouth as a replacement for his cigarette and pipe - a common habit he had whenever he felt nicotine-deprived.

The door opened, and Abel raised his brows slightly when in limped what he could only describe as a scrawny kid with the select features of a household feline. The guy looked badly beat up and still bleeding, the gauze wrapped over him all but soaked in red. It was clear the boy'd just come back from an arena fight, and from the looks of it, t had not went at all well for him. Well, considering the guy was pretty much a stick on two shaky legs, that was really no wonder. His power must have not been that great either, then. Huh, didn't someone get the unlucky cards in life.

As the guard left, the kittyman was quick on the uptake that he wasn't alone. Like a startled animal, the guy gave him a hiss, ears flattened and form suggesting he wasn't exactly happy with the realization.

And as the flattened ears and the swinging tail of the boy entered Abel's vision, he felt something suddenly wince in his chest and mind; a memory, one he'd thought long-forgotten, flashed in front of his eyes and drew a twitch from his form. It was just as before. A cat. A cat was afraid of him, hissing at him. A poor, defenseless and utterly annoying little kitty his sister picked up from the goddamn streets without his consent. The one who'd always sleep amidst his hair and guarantee a bad hair day in the morning. The one whose meowing kept him awake. The one who he would always pick up to be petted after a hard day of work. The one he-

Nee.

It wasn't the same, not at all. What the hell? This guy was a mutant, not an animal. Any guilt or pity he felt was misplaced.

This is not your damn cat, Abel.

But it sure reminded him of her.

So why, why did this guy have to be so pathetic and frail-looking, like he could get killed any moment? The little wimp'd die at this rate. Not that it concerned him in particular, but it just... pissed off. To think there was someone this damn unlucky, this damn weak in the world. A kid with the worst hand of cards.

"... Looks like someone didn't do well in the arena today," Abel mumbled, his tone slightly mocking, slightly annoyed, but expression stoic. They truly didn't discriminate with their maltreatment, did they. Strong or weak, they didn't give a shit. The entire world didn't. "Lemme guess," he raised his gaze to the ceiling, eyes narrowing at the flickering lights as he faked to inhale smoke from his makeshift cigarette. It helped him relax. Somewhat. "Not the first time you get your ass beat?"

[Lovino Vargas]

He's the meanest little kitty...

Being shuffled around in the underground from cell to cell was not an uncommon occurrence to bait mutants, to be bluntly honest. They were considered useless in the arena, could not make much money with potential consumers, and tended to be half conscious each time with their starved state and bleeding wounds from recent battles. As some were grabbed by their wrist, some being cuffed and a end of a weapon pressed up against their backs, and some simply being carried if too weak or small, the mutants were forced to move from their own comforts and thrown into cells with different mutants; some just as weak as themselves or a powerhouse of the underground, ready to slice them into pieces if the bait were to try to eat a meal.

Being lashed at for trying to eat for survival was not fun at all; even when he was only eating what he himself earned, the two meals a day, that too would escalate into being attacked or threatened if thrown into a cell with a mutant strong and hungry enough to do so. Lovino went through a few strong mutants that tried to steal the small loaf of bread, pinning his starved form to the floor as they ravished the small bit of food given. And Lovino too, in order to survive, couldn't say he was completely innocent of the situation either. He too scratched and bit at mutants in attempt to steal food if he was hungry enough; meal time was always a war. And in order to check out if such act was possible to be done in his current situation as well, it was always Lovino's way to rile up the opponent upon arrival to study what the other mutant could do, whether it be a weak hiss like now or a sudden bite from his end on the hand.

So in honesty, after being beaten in the arena, Lovino preferred to be thrown in a cell alone. That way he didn't have to worry about having to put up a dominance battle or worry about what little food would be provided will be under danger from being robbed. Always hostile unless he knew immediately that he was no match for the other or he knew the other from prior events, he hissed once more before the man had a chance to say anything, reacting to the sudden twitch from the man. Though it was a quick and small one, it was enough to cause a soft creak in the frail bed he was sitting on, and his ears easily picked up on the noise.

Now that he was able to keep his glare glued on the man, he was able to intake more of the man's form. The hair stuck out to him the most. He noted the way it stood up in what seemed like spikes, and trailed his eye down to the face, where he narrowed his eyes instantly when he was able to see the striking eyes. He rather just avoid eye contact, the animal instinct in him possibly doing the most in telling him so. He instead stared at the large scar on the man's face, then down to the quite muscular form, well, compared to himself at least.

The hostility quickly changed to what was considered more fear.

He just couldn't stay calm around taller men, and being slightly on the shorter end himself, that was quite a hard thing to avoid seeing. He was about to shake his head to rid of the thoughts, when instead he heard the mixture of annoyance and mocking in a deep voice, he stopped himself and listened.

"... Looks like someone didn't do well in the arena today."

...Hah. Was he serious? Was he trying to seriously hold a conversation with him when Lovino did nothing but give him a warning hiss? He glared at the stoic expression painted on the man's face, not saying a single word back at the comment. He had to conserve energy in case the man suddenly decided to take advantage of him, to hold him down and show him that he could easily overpower him when Lovino was this weakened. The cat mutant didn't have to respond right away, seeing his cellmate continued on with his own mumbling. As the brunet listened to the blond, he watched his movements carefully, never taking his cautious eyes off of him.

"Lemme guess," Lovino tapped his tail against the hard floor, ignoring the slight dizziness he felt from the oozing blood from his worst wound, "Not the first time you get your ass beat?"　

The Italian didn't respond right away, finally taking the time to close his eyes and let out a shaky breath, the tension quickly draining him. The scent of his own blood assaulted his keen nose, adding to the weakened feeling he felt from the cost of losing the fight. Sure, the guard managed to bandage him up, but that didn't mean he applied enough pressure of rubbed any medication on the wound to control the bleeding. If anything, it was just to avoid the blood dripping when he was carrying him down the hall, making a bigger mess than necessary.

"It's none of your fucking business..." Lovino finally responded after a groan passed his lips, leaning against the bars still. He kept his ears perked up once more, listening in case the man suddenly decided to move while Lovino had his eyes shut to ease the dizzy headache. "Just suck on your petty stick binkie and shut the hell up. I can still slice you up into pieces if you try anything stupid..."

Word Count: 946

Tags: @rarirurero

Notes: Lovi just shut up jfc.

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[Deleted]

The kitty boy took his sweet time to answer. Whether it was from fatigue, fear or a possible difficulty in understanding human speech was unknown to the Dutchman, but he didn't really care either way. He didn't even really mind if the wimp was too petrified to answer at all; he'd spoken more out of annoyance towards the other's pathetic form than an actual will to converse. If the guy decided to just lie down and take his verbal abuse, that was perfectly fine with him - favorable, even. The more they feared, the less they bothered you, he'd found.

In any case, Abel allowed the smaller mutant his moment of silence, not bothering to turn his eyes on the other as he continued chewing on his stick, memory bringing the familiar - if fake - smell of cigarette to linger in his nose for a split second every time he drew in a breath. He would have truly killed for a smoke right now. The lack of it was making him fidgety and, he dared say, feeling irritated enough to turn him violent.

And it was right then that the other mutnat decided to open his mouth.

"It's none of your fucking business..."

Abel shrugged lazily, slight amusement brushing past his lips before his expression solidified back into his usual, ticked-off expression. Oh, so the kid still had enough fight in him to answer? And to be snappy, no less. How sad. Pitiful, even. Not only was the guy unlucky when it came to physical prowess, he was cursed with a personality not at all befitting someone as weak as him. Weaklings had no place to try and be spunky. All it brought them was pain they could have otherwise avoided. Well, whatever. He didn't particularly care how easy it was to squeeze curses out of the guy.

Well, at least not until the little shit went and mocked his withdrawal symptoms - and quite literally challenged him into a fight.

Abel's eyes narrowed into angry slits, and the glare he threw at the boy carried with it a thousand sharp daggers. His gaze fixed on the boy's pathetic, shaky form like a predator having locked onto his pray's jugular, Abel allowed his head to raise enough to give him easier time to literally look down on the other's bleeding figure.

"Oh?" Was all Abel said at first, his voice calm yet tone rising dangerously by the time he finished, a small hint of excitement over the prospect of a fight muddling his usual calm. "That so?"

Abel took his time to visibly, audibly, flex his muscles, pressing one hand against his temple to crack his neck both ways, eyes closed for a brief second before their burning green focused back on his roommate. He didn't care how sharp the guy's tongue was, or how tough he acted despite clearly being wounded and liable to die from a well-aimed poke. But when he was insulted over something he had no control over and then challenged by a shitstain that could barely stand, it was time to show the pussy his place; face down on the dust and mud of the floor, head under his boot to be crushed at will. The strong made the rules. The strong controlled the lives of the weak, and if the weak did not have the head to offer respect in return, said heads would be swiftly removed.

It was time the kittyman learnt that.

Or died ignorant.

"Alright, then."

Abel brought his hand back up to his makeshift 'cigarette', long, pale fingers claiming the end of the stick into a firm hold, before starting to slowly slide upwards. And, as his skin slid across the surface of the wood, the material turned into another. Light caught the surface of the newly formed matter, and as the transformation was finished, Abel pulled the diamond stick from his mouth.

A grin, not one of amusement or happiness but of sheer malevolence flashed briefly on the tall man's lips as he rolled the stick between his fingers, clearly visible to the other mutant. They were warning signs of a predator approaching, and whether or not the bleeding boy understood them didn't concern the Dutch.

With a swift motion of a well-toned arm, Abel stabbed the stick into the bed he sat on, its tip penetrating both the thin mattress and the wood underneath it with ease, as if to say 'this what my pretty stick can do to your spine'.

"If you insist,"

Another quick flick of his arm and Abel pulled the stick out from the mattress, sending it flying towards the brunette kitty instead, its deadly tip meant to either stab the boy straight in the shoulder, scratch a wound into cheek or even miss and bury itself into the wall behind him - Abel didn't really mind any option.

"I accept the challenge."

In any case, the power difference between them should have become very clear.

At least, he hoped so - for the other's sake.

"Pussycat."

[Lovino Vargas]

He's the meanest little kitty...

At first a simple shrug, then suddenly glaring in a split second difference, Lovino couldn’t help but to grin slightly to himself when he knew he pushed one of the man’s buttons with his comment about the stick he idiotically had in his mouth and between his fingers like a cigar. In his mind, now he had the upper hand, knowing the other’s weakness… At least in terms of not wanting to be mocked about of something. So when the angry slits were shooting sharp daggers his way, he just glared back with his own fight-filled glance, not backing down now. He’s met those who looked scary but were weak inside before; this guy was probably no different.

When the simple words were spoken in response to his challenge, Lovino nodded, eager to claim his spot as higher arch in the cell while they were cellmates. During his years living here he learnt that those who had the power and strength were able to run the business, include deciding who got to eat what when meals were delivered and which bed they got to sleep on. And even some things that simple were worth fighting for for Lovino at this point; he had his own pride and it had to be shown with at least something in this pitiful excuse of an enviroment.

While the man took his dearest time to flex his muscles and prepare for an attack, Lovino swallowed down a lump in his throat. He could do this… He was strong enough to claim the cell as his… Why get worried? The Italian felt sweat bead under his chin as he watched the blond druggie stretch, frowning a bit. Was he nervous…?

Well in truth he honestly knew himself he was in no shape to fight, to begin with. Shifting cells right after an arena fight was not the best. In the arena the mutants did their best to win the fight, so Lovino never had the chance to win… But in the cell they seemed to keep to themselves more often and just let Lovino run things from time to time. So why be so nervous…? Was it the tone of voice the man used, going from calm and collected to dangerous and dark?

“Alright, then.”

A hand raised back up to the stick Lovino mocked earlier and the boy found himself fixing his eyes to the drastic change of material from wood to something else… Reflecting in the little light provided in the underground, Lovino at first thought it was glass. So he was a glass-maker… Lovino bit his lips a bit, having gotten the trick to do so without puncturing his skin with his fangs over the years of doing so. When the man took the glass stick out from his mouth, Lovino tensed his muscles.

A grin played on the man’s face as he rolled the stick cleverly between his digits and suddenly flexed his arm. Lovino’s olive green hues widened when he noticed the stick had penetrated the mattress the man was sitting on, realizing it himself that that was no glass at that very moment. That was… Diamond? This man could make diamond out of anything…?

Then what the hell was he doing in an underground like this? Surely some sick human would buy him for his own riches?

“If you insist,”

The man continued, making the cat mutant pull out his thoughts and questions. He pulled the stick out the mattress and wood, and quickly swiped his arm so that the stick was flying Lovino’s way. The boy cowered almost immediately, the diamond stick slicing his cheek just as he had the split second to transform, scampering in spot in panic like a cat from a cartoon and scampering to slide under the sink.

“I accept the challenge, Pussycat.”

A trail of blood followed him from the puddle at the gate all the way to under the small sink, in which a brown tabby cat curled up under, his ears flat and tail wrapped around his body. He quivered in fear as he glared up to the diamond giant, trying to not show his obvious fear and failing miserably. He hissed as he was called a name he rather didn’t repeat, but didn’t speak any words, not wanting to aggravate the man too much. He was so much closer to him now after all, having had to dash away from his past spot to take cover… As little as it was in a place he could slide in first.

This was insane… What the hell were the guards thinking putting him in a cell with a diamond controlling drug addict!? He felt weak and dizzy with his loss of blood and it showed with the slight sways of his furry body as he laid down in his current flimsy safe-area, unable to focus. Damn it… What the hell was this man doing in the underground…?

It just wasn’t fucking fair.

Word Count: 830

Tags: @rarirurero

Notes: SET MATCH. I don't even-- Lovi omg.

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[Deleted]

As the stick Abel had thrown hit its mark and slashed open the cowering brat’s cheek with ridiculous ease, it turned out that the shorter mutant didn’t only have a handful of feline features - but that he actually could turn into a full-fledged, realistic-sized cat, immensely reminiscent of the one Abel and his sister used to own as kids. And he had effectively contributed to the massive bleeding the thing suffered from. He had hurt another cat. Again.

The grin that had momentarily climbed on the Dutchman’s face as he’d seen his intimidation tactic work wonders was quick to fade when instead of seeing the mutant man shivering on his knees, he saw a feline scramble around pathetically instead, tail puffy and ears flattened against its skull as it dove to hide from any further attacks. It was scared. Terrified of him, just like their own cat had been. Only this time, there was silence instead of loud howls of pain, blood instead of the cold, shiny surface of diamond and, above anything else, a chance for him to stop before it was too late.

A chance for him to spare the cat’s life.

“Tch...” Abel grumbled, mad at his own thoughts and feelings; his heart was suddenly racing within his chest far harder than he’d expected it to, and something akin to guilt swirled in the depths of his skull, pounding like an oncoming headache. What, did his past truly affect him that much even now? For fuck’s sakes, he’d hurt humans and mutants alike many a time during his years, and rarely had he felt any regret or hesitation before, after or during the act. He was strong - he had no reason to feel bad over asserting his dominance over those unable to catch up to his might. It was only natural of him to do so.

Yet for whatever reason, seeing a mere cat hurt like this hurt him, particularly when his own hand had contributed to the bloodshed, no matter how minimally. And while one’d thought that the fact that the kitty didn’t meow or howl at him would have been a good thing, Abel almost hoped it would have let out some kind of sound from wherever it was hiding right now. Another hiss, a gorwl, anything. Because as things were his memories filled the silence instead and try as he might, his zusje didn’t stop crying. Not back then, and certainly not now.

The larger mutant grit his teeth silently and brought a hand to his forehead, fingers massaging his scalp, carefully avoiding touching the scar. Abel took in careful, deep breaths and started scolding himself mentally, frustration slowly once again surfacing to drown out all other thoughts and emotions. He was being ridiculous and sentimental. The bleeding mutant might have had a cat form, but he was no cat. Feeling pity towards him any more than he did towards any other previous cellmate was, frankly put, stupid.

Still, there wasn’t any real need to keep going and tormenting the guy, either. He’d proven himself to be a coward and Abel doubted the power imbalance present in the cell was unclear to either of the two. He was the stronger one - any further attacks towards the weaker guy would be nothing more than mindless bullying. So, as long as the guy kept his mouth shut, he would have no reason to hurt the pussycat any more than this. It’d be win-win for the both of them.

Now he just had to make sure the guy understood it was well as he did.

So, moving to the edge of his bed towards the sink - where he assumed the cat to be hiding under, judging by the bloody trail left behind to lead there - Abel stretched his neck to try and get the guy in his line of sight. The sink was hiding the brown tabby partially from sight, but not enough to allow complete protection. If he wanted to, he could reach and stab the cat. Hopefully though, it wouldn’t come to that. The guy was weak and not blessed by Lady Luck when it came to strength and powers from what he'd seen. He could understand that. Cut the guy some slack, even. But only if the guy's attitude started to match the cards he was dealt.

“Figured,” Abel mumbled at the mutant, his voice once again as calm as it had been before, but with a mocking, clearly condescending edge. "All talk. Wasted a perfectly good stick on you.”

He focused his eyes on the cat’s own, leaning slightly forward but still far away from the sink and ass still firmly planted on the edge of the bed. “Let me give you a piece of advice for the future. Ears open, brat.” He leaned backwards again, looking down at the other in all meanings of the word. “If you’re weak, don’t run your goddamn mouth - you’ll live a lot longer. The time you spend trying to look tough could very well be used to training and actually becoming tough.”

He let his sitting form relax and lean on the wall like he had originally been doing, gaze returned to the bars. Despite his words, he never raised his voice nor showed any further sign of anger. His frustration had been fairly effectively shaken away when the other took his cat form. Still, he did have to give the guy an actual warning, just in case he didn't know what was best for him otherwise.

“I’ll let you off the hook this time. But another sassy peep out of you, and I’ll drown your ass in the sink.”

[Lovino Vargas]

He's the meanest little kitty...

Hearing even the smallest of shuffles emitted by the other mutant made Lovino jerk his head up, trying to be much more aware of his surroundings despite his weakened dizzy state. As the other showed his irritation with a grumble, the cat's olive green hues stayed locked on the figure. He met mutants that would act nice for the shortest time for him to put his guard down. They were never the type that stayed nice afterwards, at least from his experience, most often suddenly lashing out like a fierce lion focused on prey once enough time passed. And at that moment, Lovino recognized his own current trapped state. He was under the sink, practically cornered, and there was nowhere he could immediately go and hide in without having to come out in the open first. Deciding against it, tucking his forepaws under his chest, the cat kept a careful eye on his cellmate. At least for now, he seemed content in staying on his bed. That itself was a good sign indeed.

Lovino remembered back in the preschool stages of the twisted 'training' he had to go through, when children were always brought in fresh and confused and frightened, and a group bullying a single child was just all too common. Sure the teachers often told the students to report to them if any bullying were to occur, seeing they always bullshitted out of their mouths about all the mutants being equal beings among each other and that they were all 'friends', but in reality no child would put him or herself in danger of being the next target to these snot-nosed shitheads by being the one to tell them off to the caregivers. It was just too risky. Now that Lovino thought of it, it was just the same as here, where mutants basically fought each other at times even in their own cells when it meant gaining possible dominance and extra scraps of food. It was pathetic, really, what a mutant's life was made out to be.

Taking this opportunity to lick at his wounds and the bandages almost instinctively in hopes to ease the pain and avoid it becoming worse with all the germs and bacteria that could always be crawling around in these cells, Lovino finally sighed softly when he heard the man muttered but left the mocking tone behind. Though he lost the battle itself, it seemed the other mutant knew now that he deserved to be just as respected as any other mutant; not that he really deserved it but that was another story. He acknowledged the words and spoken warning with a small flick of the tip of his tail and ears, his whiskers pulling back just in time for him to meow.

"Fuck you..." He muttered, his fangs showing behind his lips as he pulled them back a bit in a hostile hiss. Unable to find himself able to back down to the much larger mutant, he spat out words he knew would be considered inappropriate to be spoken to the dominant winner of a match... If what just happened could even be considered one, really. The feline just told himself, that it was because he was still weak, and that if he managed to get some energy back he can easily overthrow this crackhead. "Go to hell."

Word Count: 557

Tags: @rarirurero

Notes: This is late orz

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