liquidsky | Fright Knight of Walpurgis

Oh God. Oh God! He knew this was stupid, he absolutely knew it. But no, he had to go listen to Charlie. He had to help the kid out and go check out this location. Alone. Oh yeah, it's fine for that annoying little bastard, he got to go supernatural hunting with his girlfriend and whatever school mates he had around. Who did Peter have? Himself, a hex bag made for protection and a hip flask of midoiri.

Just his fucking luck to walk in on one of those lunatics. And to have that magical bastard steal his face. Somehow

Sitting on the floor in what had to be a hallway closet, under some coats, Peter held his gun close like one might a loved one, staring at the door in terror because the bloody hex bag he made for protection didn't seem to work and the stupid gun had jammed again. And whoever that bloke was, he meant business. So basically, he was just waiting now. Waiting to die. And no, he was not being melodramatic.

He was being smart, hiding like this. Like a brave and mighty turtle.

What others might call paranoia, Barty called survival instinct. And of that he had an almost unhealthy dose. He'd been at war pretty much his entire life and he'd not always been able to fight. But he was now and his instincts never let him down.

So his reaction had been flawless, up until the moment he got thrown but seeing his own face and then, even more so, by the fearful wailing. What was up with that?

He finally followed behind the man, stopping next to the door and leaning back against the wall. He was a wizard, but he knew how guns worked. He knocked and waited for a few minutes before asking, in a mock-gentle tone: "Do you often get scared when you attack people?"

"Stay back! I have a gun and -- and I know how your magic works. So I can turn it back on you," Peter lied stubbornly, currently shuffling back as far as he could so he was basically flattened against a small pile of hat boxes. Maybe he could throw them at the strange thing outside that had taken his face. Pulling out his hip flask with shaky hands, he took several very long gulps before tucking it back away.

Looking down at his gun, Peter gave it a few slaps to try and knock the alignment back into place, ready to take down this strange man if he even tried to come at him.

"I'm giving you this chance to surrender and leave. While I just, you know, prepare. For battle," Peter gave his gun one final good whack and his elbow stuck out a little too far, knocking the selection of hat boxes down onto himself and causing quite a clattering noise. Peter flailed, smacking them out of his way so he didn't get distracted. "Ow, for fuck sake!"

"Is that so?" Barty just drawled the words, weighing his wand in his hand and sounding vaguely bored more than anything. Especially in comparison to Peter's frantic voice. "Seems as if we are at a standstill."

He flinched, letting out a low hiss when he heard all the clattering from inside. "I'd appreciate if you'd actually hold still, rather than take apart everything I own. Thank you. Now, I'd of course leave right away, but... See, I live here. You intruded. And I wasn't even sacrificing any virgins today, so it seems like an overreaction."

How exactly was he meant to retreat without looking like a coward now. He literally had three options here. The first was to be brave, kick the door open and try to kill this horrible man. The second was to run away like a pathetic coward as far as he could and hope he can get outside before getting attacked.

The third, and so far his favourite, stay in the closet. Settle down, make a home there, never have to leave.

"I suggest you consider leaving," Peter said with as much force as he could in his tone, wanting to seem as serious as he properly could. Then, his resolve crumbled as he gripped his gun twice as tight. And a small pathetic voice added. "Please?"

"Funny. Here I was going to suggest you leave my closet before you piss yourself." Barty licked his lip and shrugged. "Wait a minute. That's not all that funny, really. I guess real life rarely is."

He looked at the door, considering the choices he had. Oh, well. "I'm not going to kill you. And I'm not lying about that, believe me. If I wanted to kill you, I'd tell you in detail. Now that would be funny."

Peter was silent for a long time. A very long time. Then, finally, after what seemed like two minutes of silence, the items he'd put in front of the closet were moved and the door creaked open just enough to get the barrel of his gun out. And to peek out himself, clearly trying to assess how easy it could be for this strange copycat to kill him.

"Stand back!" Peter orderer, gently nudging the door open with his gun and taking a tentative step out. This was an impressive moment for him, being as brave as to actually move from the closet. But, as Barty pointed out, it was likely that in an hour or so, he was going to need a piss. Especially since he'd been drinking since noon.

In a show of good faith, Barty raised one arm halfway and stepped back from the door. His other hand held his wand and he curled some fingers to wave Peter closer. "Now let me take a look at you. Usually when people try to take me down, they don't look like me. Of course, they also usually don't hide in my closet."

He smiled, a not at all reassuring glint in his eyes. "Although, on the other hand, they usually didn't get to live that long. So congratulations on that."

"I'm not so easy to kill," Peter insisted as he finally step out of the closet, gun pointed at Barty's head in the hopes that he could kill him dead during any spell. He didn't want to be turned into anything or made to do things. He'd heard a lot about what these death eaters could do and frankly, it terrified him. But then, anything like that was kind of horrifying to think of. "And I find you'll find you look like me. I had this face first, it's very much mine. And as much as I do admire it, I won't hesitate to shoot at someone wearing it."

He said that and yet his hands were very much trembling, his legs already backing up though he'd barely even noticed he was doing that. Instinctive cowardice, what a trait to have. "What are you doing? Tell me. Why are you trying to confuse me like that?"

"It's my face. I'd point you to a family portrait, but I burned them all." Barty had to smile, because as opposed to Peter, he wasn't afraid. It wasn't as if he didn't know how fast a gun could kill and that he could very well be taken out by it before he could stop it. He just didn't scare that easily. Besides, there was a certain excitement to it. People rarely lived long enough to threaten him openly.

With that thought in mind he decided that he'd not completely destroy the gun. Might still be fun later. So when he did use a spell, it was a simple disarming one and he held perfectly still, expecting that any shot Peter might have managed to fire wouldn't actually be aimed correctly. Meanwhile his own wand stayed pointed.

"Now we can have a proper talk."

The moment the wand so much as lit up, the gun was fired. And nothing happened, just like it was jammed or something. Peter whacked it a few times, trying hard to get it to fire, the whole time backing up till he hit the wall. Oh shit! Fucking useless piece of shit. "Fuck. You broke it, didn't you? Oh God,"

Peter dropped it in panic, back firmly pressed against the wall with a determined yet terrified look on his face. He'd survived two vampire attacks in his life time, several very vicious ex's and one werewolf. But wizards? How the hell did he fight magic?

In a moment of pathetic desperation, Peter pulled a small vile of holy water from his pocket, unscrewing it and throwing it in the direction of Barty. Nothing happened... except getting Barty a little wet. "... Okay, worth a try."

"Right then." Barty glanced at the vial, then shook his head and stepped forward, his wand steady. "Please refrain from throwing things at me. Or I'll have to refrain you. Now put your hands behind your head, if you don't mind." At the very least he rarely neglected his manners. No need to be rude while terrifying someone. It tended to make people seem less in control of a situation anyway.

"And then I want you to turn around for me. Just one time, all the way. I want a good look." He supposed he should take his other weapons, but it would probably be more entertaining to have him put them down himself.

Peter would have liked to say it took him longer to comply than he did. But, with great readiness, he raised his hands and placed them behind his head. The turn he did was not the most graceful, he nearly tripped over his feet from doing it. Not because he was at all clumsy, mostly because he hadn't been sober in about three days and he was having a little problem with co-ordination.

Once he had done it, he swallowed hard and looked right at Barty, feeling very nervous. Running was his last chance, it's all he could do. He just needed him to let his guard down and lower the wand. "Are you done yet? -- Come on, can't we just forget about this? I mean yes, you're a death eater but I can lie? Say I never saw you. And you never saw me."

"Is that a request? Because I could make you forget about it. Literally." Barty smiled and it didn't reach his eyes. "I could make you forget about everything." Probably including bladder control, so perhaps he should tune it down a bit. But this was far too enjoyable.

"Your identity... It's not all that important, is it? You could live without that." He cocked an eyebrow, wondering what else he could make him do. "Your weapons. Lay them all down on the ground. If you please."

"No, no, no, don't do that. Don't do anything like that! We can bargain this. Do you want money? I-I have a lot of that," Peter tried, not wanting to lose his memories. He liked his memories... mostly. He had a few good ones. And he liked who he was too. This man was mad, how was he going to get out of this one? For fuck sake, he was ignoring Charlie next time he tried to get Peter to go save the bloody universe from wizards.

What came out of Peter's jacket could only be described as a mini army's worth of weapons. Knives, grenades, tasers, holy water, a hex bag, three lots of ammo for the gun and a cross. It all dropped onto the floor at his feet as Peter emptied his coat, leaving his phone, drink and back up knife all hidden still. "There, happy? Now, can't I just leave?"

"When your plan of attack is to run and hide, wouldn't it be easier to carry less baggage?" The mocking wasn't about to stop, but Barty inspected the arsenal with interest. More than he'd have expected, judging by the performance so far.

"No, darling. You can't just leave." His voice was gracious enough, the threat was in context more than in anything he said. "Now I want you to strip. If you're fast about it you can keep the underwear on."

This was schoolboy level of bullying, really, but it wasn't as if he could deal with this man as if he was a legitimate threat. He was more inclined to point and laugh, really.

"What?" Okay, Peter wasn't a man who usually objected to stripping, in fact he usually was the first to suggest it. He spent half his life taking off clothes but really? He wasn't about to do it under force. Why would he? Sure, he didn't exactly want to lose all his memories but he really didn't want to lose his jacket either. It had his phone! And his booze!

"I'm not taking them off," Peter insisted, standing his ground with as much defiance as he could muster. His eyes lingered on the stair case, debating how quickly he could run if he could distract Barty long enough. "I gave you my weapons, you've got my gun and the upper hand. You don't need my clothes."

"Oh, I don't. But I want them." And then he decided that apparently more scaring was needed, so he stepped forward, using a spell at the same time. "Petrificus Totalus."

Now with Peter frozen in place he quickly closed the distance between them so he could hold his shoulder with one hand, keeping him from falling over. He let the tip of his wand brush across his forehead. "The thing is, I can make you do whatever I want. It's true. One way or the other."

As he spoke he let the wand move lower, lingering over his heart. "I can make it very painful. To your body or your mind. Perhaps both." He pressed the tip of his wand against Peter's crotch while he held his eyes. "Or you could simply comply."

With one quick smile, his tongue darting out to swipe across his upper lip, he moved back again, almost casually removing the spell. "Your choice."

Peter had never quite experience that kind of lack of control in his life, usually he had some measure of control, some way to keep control. He hadn't been that helpless since -- well, his parents. The night he'd laid there, paralysed with fear until he heard them both scream. Then he'd just run. The best option was always running. And this horrible thing was trying to take that from him.

So basically the whole asking him to do things? That was just him being nice. He didn't actually have to even ask, he was just making him do it under the guise of asking. Offering a tentative mockery of freewill.

Peter couldn't move afterwards, his body seized up in fear this time. When he finally managed to will himself to move, he slid out of his coat and started to pull his t-shirt over his head. His body covered in those crappy fake tattoos but he'd come straight from a show so nothing had been removed, the bullshit was still all there, annoyingly on display. His shoes were kicked off next, then his trousers were off and finally, he stood there, feeling somewhat awkward in his underwear and socks.

Hey, he'd technically said he could keep the underwear. And why did he have to remove his socks? They weren't a problem, surely.

"See, done, all done. No need to get spell-happy. J-Just don't do anything rash."

"I never do." That much at least was true. His actions tended to be very well thought out. Even if they came across as insane and even when they actually were lacking in sanity. "Now lead the way back to the living room. I have a few questions to ask you, but I get tired of standing around."

Partially true, but there was also just something about sitting down while forcing a terrified almost naked person to answer his questions. Superiority he had at any rate, but he did get a kick out of actually asserting it.

"You're very scared, aren't you?" Barty paused, the tip of his tongue touching the corner of his mouth for a second. "Good. I'll make sure you won't feel foolish. Plenty of things you fear can happen here."

Oh great, he was stuck in a house with a psychopath and all his clothes were in a pile with everything he both wanted and needed. And no matter what he did, he was going to be zapped or something. Yes, he definitely made a mistake. He should have stayed in the closet. With uneasy legs, he started to move, not entirely sure where the living room was, he just knew he had to keep steady and make sure his legs didn't give in. Which he really felt like they could.

Maybe if he fell and bashed his head? Maybe then he could leave with his memories and only a near fatal injury? ... Would Barty actually call him an ambulance though.

He tried to ignore the mockery, just kept on walking till he was finally in the living room. Oh God, he was definitely going to die here. He just knew it.

Barty grabbed Peter's shoulder to turn him enough so he could face his chair. He paused for a moment, frowning and then running a finger over the tattoo on Peter's chest. "...Merlin, what a phony." It had to be said. He rolled his eyes and turned, sitting down on the chair, his wand still ready in his hand, not that Peter was going anywhere or had a lot of means to try anything.

"I want your name. No lies, either, it'd be a waste of time and very painful. The latter only for you, of course."

Yes, he knew what a lie it was. His life was essentially just being a phony and hell, he was happy with that! He liked that. Why couldn't he keep lying, hiding and being a pathetic coward? He helped to stop one vampire and suddenly everyone thought he was game for this shit. Christ, he was far too old to play vampire hunter in real life.

"I already said. Peter Vincent. I have an ID upstairs," Peter pointed out, not wanting to end up being accused of something he wasn't doing. "And my TV ad runs a lot actually, you could probably catch it if you had a TV. And turned it on. I'm in the advert. Being, you know, a vampire hunter. And a phony. Which, by the way, is fine by me. Not trying to be real, just a job."

Slowly, he moved his hand down to rub one of the tattoos off rather easily, just wanting to prove that yes, he knew they were bullshit too. "See, total bullshit. I'm not anything really."

"Right." What did he even say to that? "I'd really much prefer if you weren't a phony bullshitter while wearing my face." He pulled his sleeve up, turning his arm to show the dark mark, burned into his skin and always looking just a little alive. "There isn't any space in my life for that kind of show."

On the other hand, it was harmless enough. Not as if any wizard ever watched television. But he'd definitely have some decisions to make here. "Kneel down, will you? I don't want you to fall over."

He watched him with a thoughtful expression. "You knew I'd be here and you knew what I was. So the question is who else knows that you're here and what did you hope to accomplish?"

Peter had very much learned his lesson earlier so he didn't hesitate, he soon dropped down onto his knees, no longer caring how he looked because hell, he was in his boxers and socks. It was hard to have much dignity there. And this was clearly one of those very serious and disconcerting death eaters he'd heard of. The ones with the mark thingy.

"No one knows," Okay, that was a lie but he wasn't dropping Charlie into this shit. He was a good lad, he didn't deserve to die for this. Even if he'd sent Peter here in the first place... he better actually come and save him too. "I mean I wasn't given an exact location for you. I just sort of got a tip. From a bloke I know online. And that's about it. I don't know what I was looking for here."

Then, with a sheepish look, he shrugged a little at Barty. "I was pretty drunk. I'll do anything after a few. Foresight, not my thing."

Fright Knight of Walpurgis

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