Work Text:
He misses nothing. Even with his sight narrowed by the red edges of bloodthirst, his opponent’s movements are as transparent as glass. Compared to Akechi, he is nothing. A mere child, play-acting at being a hero. A useless piece of trash long past its expiry date. Akechi is patient and ready when the other falters, landing clumsily with his stance just a fraction too wide and an arm too slow to parry.
“I’ve got you now!”
Hideous laughter rips out of him, a sound that would have him cringing in disgust on any other day. But the only thought left in his head is the euphoric anticipation of his long-awaited victory. His eyes are wide open, out of fear that he might miss even a second of Joker’s demise. He wants to engrave every moment of it onto his soul so he can take this cherished memory with him to the grave; the agonized screams, the crunch of bone and the red hot warmth of his blood spilling over his hands, the proof that Akechi Goro doesn’t need anyone’s fucking pity -
Gray eyes widen beneath the bone-white opera mask, horror finally dawning on the imbecile as his mouth falls open in a final protest- “Akechi, wait-!”
“LAEVATEINN!”
All at once, Loki’s horrific power surges towards Joker’s downed form, threatening to rip him to pieces once and for all.
Except it doesn’t.
His claws slam into an immovable wall and his body is left frozen in the seconds it takes gravity to catch up. Their gazes are locked, one in confusion and one in slowly dawning horror.
For every action, Akechi remembers too late, there is an equal and opposite reaction.
White explodes across his vision as his momentum reverses right back into him, slamming into his chest and knocking the breath from his lungs. When he comes to, he finds himself in a painful, ungainly tangle of limbs on the ground, his vision blurring with blood from a head wound.
Akechi is too shocked to move, and for a moment, there is silence.
Standing several feet away from where he had been far-flung, is Joker. Entirely unscathed, down to the perfect lines of his ridiculous coat.
Akechi opens his mouth and then closes it again. There is a crack in his mask, a literal one that runs down the entire left side of his visor that makes him see double. The two Jokers lower their heads, downcast eyes framed by impossibly thick eyelashes that had to be fake. There is redness spreading across his ears - not blood, unfortunately - but the pale rose glow of chagrin.
Wordlessly, Akechi pulls out his gun and empties the entire clip in his face, only to have to dodge out of the way of the erratic ricochet of his own damn bullets.
Once again, he is left staring down his opponent, useless gun dropping from his fingers.
“... um, sorry,” Joker says with a spineless sort of embarrassment and sounds like he actually fucking means it. “I forgot I switched out to Girimehkala.”
“Joker.” He grinds his teeth hard enough to give his dentist nightmares and the name comes out in less of a growl and more like the jagged, serrated edges of a smashed bottle that he wants nothing more than to drive into Kurusu Akira’s beautiful face. “Tell me you did just not apologize to me.”
Akechi regrets the words as soon as they leave him. Joker’s unholy mouth twitches in the way it usually does when he tries to hold back the urge to say something inane and fails. He bristles in anticipation and sure enough, the insipid fool’s next words are, “I did not just apologize to you.” But since he is, frankly, above such petty provocations, he reaches for calm and for Robin Hood’s mask.
The bastard doesn’t even bother dodging what should be a fatal powered-up kougaon right into his hideous persona’s weakness. Instead, the deceptively beautiful shower of light swirls around Joker’s form before it condenses into gentle sparkles that kiss away the cuts on his cheeks.
“What,” Akechi asks flatly, almost too stunned to remember that he’s supposed to be furious.
(But only for a second.)
His ire quickly recovers, erupting in a flare of violence and indignity. “Resorting to lying, are you? I didn’t think the great leader of the Phantom Thieves would sink so damn low.”
Joker opens his mouth to defend himself before he shuts it with a quiet click. And has the gall to look contrite, all the while mumbling something that may or may not have been, “maybe I overdid it with the persona executions.”
Once again, Akechi reaches for calm while despising how difficult it is to maintain a state of constant seething rage when the object of his undying hatred pities him too much to even put up a resistance anymore. Actually, it isn’t all that difficult at all. “Well, Joker ?” he smiles in a wide mockery of friendliness. “Would you be so kind as to tell me if there are any other elemental weaknesses that you can conveniently nullify?”
“Um,” says Joker.
“Nevermind,” says Akechi pleasantly as he launches every single offensive elemental attack item he has collected over the last three years.
Fifteen minutes later, he is out of breath and absolutely sick to his stomach.
>> Null Fire
>> Repel Ice
>> Drain Elec
>> Repel Wind
>> Null Psy
>> Drain Nuke
>> Drain Bless
>> Null Curse
“Akechi,” Joker says, somewhat helplessly. Only mildly rumpled despite his best efforts, but just as beautiful, whole, and perfect. “Can we please just talk this over? Please?”
Back in Loki’s guise, Akechi only bares his teeth at him like a frenzied bear and rips the mask from his face with one last desperate howl.
“Megidolaon!”
Searing light explodes bursts from his body until it encompasses everything, white-hot energy annihilating everything within its path. Fitting for a spell meant to bring down the punishment of the gods against heretical sinners. When the dust finally settles, Akechi finally allows his exhaustion to take root in his battered body. He ends up resting on one knee, shaky laughter wisping out from his lungs because it is unthinkable that an idiot who doesn’t even know how to dodge could have survived that.
He can’t even bring himself to be surprised anymore when he looks up to meet Joker’s pretty, guilt-ridden face.
“... firm stance and... divine pillar,” Joker offers without needing to be prompted this time, his face now entirely red with shame while he fiddles with the ends of his gloves.
Akechi’s mouth wobbles.
“I’m going to kill you,” he vows, even if it ends up taking much more effort than he had initially anticipated.
Eventually.
Somehow.