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His newest acquisition growled, a low reverberating noise. The noise was wordless, courtesy of the muzzle attached to its face. Both leather and wire, it was hard to imagine its face underneath- still, it was clear it sealed their mouth firmly shut.
It would be a lot more intimidating if it didn’t look half starved and seconds away from collapsing. As it was, it was almost cute. The effect was only aided by the flashy pinks and teals its lettering had.
“Come now,” Nightmare hummed, “is that anyway to treat your saviour?”
No response, with the exception of more growling. Every second he could see a kaleidoscope of colors spread across the fabric of its clothings. Bright warning reds and pinks, nearly eye-searing cyans and blues. It matched nicely with the blood still drying on the creature's claws; Murder’s, who’d been tasked with trying to get the muzzle off.
Everything about it was colorful, vibrant- the exact opposite of its attitude.
“I went through all the trouble of having my boys get you out of that… place. The least you could do is behave.”
Nightmare gestured vaguely, with one of his tentacles. It lunged at the movement, the chain around its neck that they’d repurposed nearly choking it as it hissed and spat. It would definitely bruise.
None of them could get the restraints off it, and the effort would probably take more than they’d gain with it. And, as a bonus, they could reap the benefits of it being unable to bite them. The way it growled and lunged made it pretty clear it wanted to.
It didn’t seem like he’d be getting anything out of the skeleton, at least, anything intelligible. A pity, but this was why he’d tasked Murder with going through the files they’d taken with it.
It looked humanoid, monster like, so he hoped it was more than just a beast. Though… either way, he was determined to keep it.
It was just so… interesting. He needed to know what had led it to being held captive, what those scientists had been doing with it, and, most importantly, why its suffering felt so intense yet distant.
—
The meal he’d brought, wrapped like a gift, slammed into the ground with a whine. Squirming like they were, they instantly gained the parasite's attention. He kicked them further into its range.
It didn’t pounce right away, eyes locking onto Nightmare. He smiled. It seemed it did have some wits to it. [The flaring of its spines showed it didn’t like the expression. He almost laughed; was it afraid of his teeth?]
“That’s for you,” he said. The meal squirmed more at that, shaking and breathing hard; almost as enjoyable as the clear hunger on his captives face, “Murder found some… interesting information about you.” Namely, that it was a people eater, and one of the only things that had kept it contained were its magic sealing restraints. It made him glad they’d made a cell that already did that.
Its eyes flicked from the offered meal to him again. Its mouth parted, tasting the air, but it still didn’t attack.
“Shy, are you?” It didn’t seem like it would eat with him watching. Disappointing, he’d been looking forward to the show. When it was more lucid he’d convince it to let him see. He was sure it would be amenable. At least it knew he was the biggest threat in the room.
Maybe he wouldn’t have to though. The instant he turned around he heard it lunge, bones scraping and the sound of a struggle. Whipping around he only got a single moment to see it pinning its prey down before a cloud of neon gas enveloped the cell.
He raised an arm to shield his mouth and took a few steps back. The notes mentioned feeding it dust, and other more processed magical substances. No mention of this fog was ever noted, but that made sense. They didn’t ever feed it live monsters, though noted that’s what it had eaten before they’d captured it.
He waved his tentacles, trying to clear the magic from the air. When he had visibility, he saw the creature standing in the middle of the cell. Next to it, a pile of dust, still held in its restraints. Its previous host, dead as soon as it left them.
Claws dulled, and shorter by a foot at least, it looked like a whole different monster. Much healthier than it did beforehand though: fuller, rounded, even a bit fat. The ‘monster’ [though he didn’t know if he’d call it one.] shook itself out, little clouds of dust getting re-agitated into the air.
He thought, yet again, it was cute. In a morbid way, like a kitten playing in snow.
It didn’t speak yet, watching him once more with a much more keen eye. A closer look showed it wasn’t at full capacity though, its true eye half-lidded and dazed.
“Not even a thanks?”
The words seemed to shock it into action, seeming to fully come back into itself. It gave another intense shake, more little pops as it settled. A lot of magic was being expended to fit it into whatever mold it was more familiar with- that meant it probably discarded most unnecessary functions, otherwise, that would be very unsustainable.
Standing a bit straighter, he could almost see the mask it was slipping on, “Sorry bro! This radical dude is just a tad… twisted around.” Its voice was filled with a false cheer, almost grating. It shifted its weight, eyes darting around, a nervous little laugh in its voice, “you know how it is.”
“Of course.” He hummed, eyeing its still tensed form. The way it held itself didn’t change much from before; he didn’t doubt it would still bite if he got in range of its teeth.
“Help a guy out and open that door?” It asked, “I can tell you’re not one of them unradical scientists. Much better fashion sense you’re rocking.”
“You know I won’t be doing that.”
It let out a reedy laugh, and he knew it didn’t really expect him to let it go. It was just grasping at straws. He wondered how bad the last people were that it distrusted him so fully.
Maybe it could just tell he wouldn’t be kind. It wouldn’t be the first time someone assumed that, and he wouldn’t say it was wrong to.
He spoke, uncaring of it clearly lost in thought, “In other news… do you have a name?” He already knew what it called itself from the notes, but letting it choose to reveal more of itself would only endear itself further to him, no matter how faint.
“And who are you to be asking?” It asked back - only able to speak for mere moments and already searching for leverage, how quaint.
“Nightmare,” he stated simply, “your new owner.”
————
It hadn’t warmed up to him yet. Which made sense, of course; he still kept it in that cell.
“Aren’t you hungry, dear?” He asked. A question he didn’t need an answer to, he could feel the stabbing pain it felt permeating the air, like a sour-sweet miasma. Still, a reminder could never hurt.
Its tired eyes glared at him, not making a single move to take the platter of dust he’d slid into the cell. Probably didn’t want to get close enough to him to do so. Another day of silence.
It was okay, it would break soon enough.
He took the untouched plate as he left; there would be another day.
——
“My pet.” He greeted it, the same as he always did. Routine. “How was your sleep?”
Predictably, the creature ignored him.
——
“You know you can’t keep this up.” They both knew this could be made significantly easier for it. At its feet, a collar with his emblem attached; he wouldn’t be letting Fresh out of the cell or giving it live prey until it put it on.
Of course, the emblem wasn’t the only thing about it that made it refuse. It was modeled after the restraints it came in with - magic canceling, and, of course “altered so they won’t come off except by my hand,” he’d told it, smile wide enough to crinkle his single eye.
It pressed further into the corner, though that gave away it was still listening. He wondered how long it would still have the energy to disobey him. A creature all the papers he’d gotten described as cunning, willing to put its survival above all else.
It was clear it not only did this out of pride, but with the assumption that it could benefit from this disobedience. An effort to make him grow bored, he was sure. Unfortunately for it, he’d had 500 years to solidify his patience. Two weeks of silent treatment, especially with the way it was so very chatty when he first got it, wouldn’t work now. He just had to wait it out - something he was very, very good at.
He pulled out some paperwork and got to work.
——
“My dear pet-” he started, like he always did.
“Fresh,” it snarled at him. A break in its armor, a bubble of lava bled from stone. It had only taken him three weeks.
“Fresh,” he smiled around the word. It shuddered, but he could feel the way a layer of frustration melted from it. Petnames were fun, but it seemed his dear Fresh enjoyed its name too much to employ them so soon. That was fine, he could wait until it was ready.
——
Sometimes he talked about his day, general information. People he’d killed, universes he’d visited. [He did not mention his brother.]
“I still haven't seen anything as interesting as you, Fresh.” He dropped in, conversationally.
It was true, but he mostly said it because it had such an amusing reaction anytime he said something like that. A small bitter hint of positivity before a harsh flood of shame and anger. It made him want to coo and pinch its cheeks.
Further than just starving for compliments, the creature clearly liked positive words before its current… situation. The perfect personality for his pet; he was sure he could shave off that instinctual shame [no matter how sweet it tasted], make it crave his words without caveat.
It looked at him as he talked, moving back to his previous topic. He made sure to smile.
——
He didn’t slow his words as it crept closer, fingers hooking over the edge of the plate. It dragged it closer, but he narrowed his eyes at it before it could get all the way back to the corner.
It glared at him, but didn’t move further back. Cupping a handful of dust, it was clear the provided meal was not to its taste. Still, it seemed the first bite of food reminded it of how long since its last meal, because it scarfed the rest of it down quickly.
Once finished, he grabbed the plate with his tentacle and pulled it out of its cell. Fresh scrambled back when he got close, right back into its corner.
“Enjoy your meal, Fresh?”
It just grunted, refusing to look at him.
He laughed, “I’ll get something sweeter for you soon, my dear.”
“You better…” it said.
——
He set the platter on his side of the bars, meaning Fresh would need to get close to him in order to get its treat. It had been rather well behaved in the last week, finally eating the provided dust and ground up magic.
“Come now, Fresh,” he cajoled it, “don’t you want something nice and sweet?”
It growled at him, deep and low in its throat, the vibrations making its spines rattle. Petulant at not getting exactly what it wanted, still, even after all it had been through. It was acting more like a spoiled king than even he.
“When have I hurt you so far, Fresh? Do you fear the horrors of…” he laughed, “some scones?”
“You are such a- a unradical dude, dude. Acting like you don’t already know.” It muttered, words irreverent. He would train that out, later.
For now, he just smiled. It needed to be rewarded for engaging with him, no matter how… distastefully it did. All the else could be dealt with afterwards.
Choosing not to address its words, he continued, “The scones have more condensed magic in them than monster dust. I’m sure you’ll enjoy them.”
It looked at him like he’d spat on its mother; clearly, the temptation was frustrating it.
Impatient and arrogant, he wondered how it survived before captivity. Nightmare was doing it a favor by taking it in- he was willing to forgive such transgression.
He let out an exaggeratedly put out sigh, closing his eyes and setting his hand on his cheek. “I suppose,” he started, “if you really do not want it, I’ll keep your diet as it was.”
Rustling cloth, and when he opened his eyes, it had scooted closer. Its face darkened with a menagerie of colors as he looked at it, but he only beckoned it closer.
It kept low to the ground as it nearly crawled to him, ready to bolt back to the little corner it had claimed for itself. The creature acted like the animal it clearly thought itself better than.
Finally, it was face to face with him. He was sure if it reached through the bars of its cell it could touch him. It wouldn’t, he knew.
Instead, it reached for the scones.
“You get two, without a price.”
It froze, the starving animal in it clearly protesting the lack of actions, but it’s clever little head making it want to puzzle out his words. “What price?”
“Did I not say? No price for two. I’ll tell you what more would cost after.”
It narrowed its eyes and bared its teeth, but grabbed two scones nonetheless. After a small nibble, it shoved nearly a whole scone into its mouth. Mere moments after that, it swallowed and shoved the next scone in.
“So messy,” he chided.
It laughed, then coughed, then laughed again. It stuck its tongue out, before licking at all the crumbs left over on its claws.
“At least you enjoyed them. Distasteful as your conduct is.” He huffed, though he was still pleased. This would be easier if it liked the treat.
He let one hand drift over and pick up a scone. Taking a bite, he hid any disgust; his pet would definitely enjoy this more than he. It was made specifically for it, after all. The magic was overly processed, perfect for a parasite unable to digest most magic, but disgusting for any normal monster.
He waved a hand, to get its attention, “Want another, Fresh?”
“Price?” Straight to business.
“Just come here,” he smiled.
It seemed it was too far in to back out now, already having been lured so close to him, eating the first good food it was getting in no doubt months [besides the monster he fed it days after he acquired it, but he doubted it really was lucid enough to enjoy itself], scooting a few inches closer seemed like nothing.
With a painfully telegraphed movement, he moved the scone closer to it. It was locked still, he made sure. [“No hands,” he said when it moved to grab it.]
Slowly, because he wanted it to know it could have backed out, had the opportunity to run to its corner [no matter the fact it really couldn’t at this point], he pressed the scone to its mouth.
Fresh opened, because there really was little else it could do, and he brought his hand back as it moved to bite him. The second he moved back it did the same, in a swift motion it was tucked up against its corner again, scone choked down and eyes wide and wary.
One extra scone was all it wanted, or perhaps it was unable to resist the temptation to finally bite him. He laughed.
It did as he asked though. “Good boy,” he praised, eye crinkling with how wide his smile was. It shook in the corner, unsure.
Progress. Soon, his pet would be perfect.
——-
“Evening, Fresh.” He greeted.
It grunted back, nervously shoved into the corner, like it was wont to do. The novelty of it speaking at all was still fresh. However… it hadn’t managed a full visit without saying Something since it broke its silence a few weeks back, so he knew he wouldn’t have to wait long for something more.
He hadn’t even opened his book when it spoke, quiet, “It’s cold in here.”
A non sequitur, but it was easy to tell what it was getting at. He wouldn’t let it get what it wanted so easily, though; he was spoiling it enough already.
“It is, isn’t it?” He said, clearly annoying it, with the way it narrowed its eyes. “This AU has seasonal cycles, so it’ll only get colder.” He added, conversationally.
It shifted in place, scraping one of its shoes against the stone wall, a tiny temper tantrum. It didn’t look at him.
“I can’t do anything unless you ask, my dear Fresh.”
It bared its teeth, “fine, fine. Would you, my so high and mighty owner, ” the word was spat, “do something about it?”
“You are too generous to assume I can change the weather,” he said with a laugh, if only to feel the hot white wave of shame and anger that passed through his pet. It was so sweet he almost gagged on the taste. It shook, and he knew it wanted to lunge at him, the twitching claws it pressed to the wall itching to wrap around his throat.
“Though I suppose…” he tapped his chin, as if unaware, uncaring, of Fresh’s reaction, “I could get you a blanket. Would you like that, Fresh?”
It took a page from his book and let a long drawn out sigh, “yes.” It said, before turning away from him completely, spiny tail wrapped around its ankles.
From experience, he knew it was done for the day. Maybe he teased it a little too much.
——-
“It smells like you…” it muttered, after a moment holding the blanket close. Its nose bridge wrinkled, and its eyes narrowed, seemingly moments away from sticking out its tongue in disgust. Adorable.
He knew it would notice. He smiled, “I only use the best for myself, Fresh. Aren’t you happy I went with the highest quality?”
Fresh grumbled, “whatever man.” Before going right back to its corner. It looked like a little burrito, wrapped up in the blanket.
“You're so cute,” he told it. All its spines went up in offense, and it wrapped the blanket around itself tighter, turning its nose up at him and giving him the silent treatment once more.
None of that could hide the emotions that he could always feel welling up when he complimented it. His descriptor held true.
——-
It had been staring at his book for a good while now, the majority of his visit so far he’d wager.
“Are you bored, Fresh?”
“Real sharp of you to notice that one, dude. You're really all that and a bag of chips.” it huffed at him, like it was obvious. It was, but he wouldn’t let that tone stand.
“Manners, dear.”
It stuck its tongue out, but when he didn’t offer anything else, it relented. “Fine. Yes, I am bored. Not much to do in here, y’know.”
“A pity, that.” He said, “You know, you could come out for a walk if you…” He trailed off, but they both looked to the collar, still inside the cell. It was in its corner, with everything else it had [not much, just shredded bits of its clothing, the restraints it came in with, and its blanket]. Pristine, even after weeks on the dirty floor - enchanted by magic not to be affected by such trifling things; he would, afterall, only give the best to his pet.
“No.” Simple, succinct; enjoyable in his subordinates, not so much in his cute little pet.
“You really are making this harder on yourself than you need to.”
It lashed its tail, getting more annoyed with his continued prodding. It pressed further into its corner, blanket tight around its shoulder, “urgh, whatever. You know that’s not what I meant, man.”
He hummed an acknowledgement, but went back to reading. Another day, then.
———
“Fresh, pet.” He called, just as he made his way into the dungeons. It looked up, though there still seemed to be a chip on its shoulder - it didn’t say hello back.
“Tsk tsk-” he chided, “I’ve got a gift for you, but I don’t know if I’ll be giving you it with that attitude.”
It rolled its eyes but finally greeted him back, “morning, ‘owner.’”
He narrowed his eyes at the way it said ‘owner,’ but it was good enough. With a sigh, he said, “good pet.”
“What do you got?” It asked, sitting up and stretching out a little; the creature was probably sleeping before he came in.
“You said you were bored, did you not?” He started, tossing something through the bars of the cage.
It caught it, reflexes fast even after months of captivity [both by him and its previous captors]. Bringing it closer to its face, he could see the instant it figured out what it was and delight overtook its wariness.
All its spines went up in a smooth motion, and its sockets widened. He must’ve laughed, because it glanced up at him. One look at his expression and it shut down, tucking its new tamagotchi into its corner, under its blankets.
“I guess I can dig this.” It gave, as if its excitement wasn’t palpable.
Throughout the visit, it didn’t pull out its toy, but he could tell it wanted to. It reminded him of when he first got it, too shy to eat in front of him. Cute.
-——-
Fresh was, as always, quick to scarf down any meals presented to it, even meals made of only dust. Its expression made it clear it hated the taste, still. Finished scarfing down the presented food, it slid the plate back to him.
“So polite,” he cooed, reaching in and taking the platter out of its cell. They both knew it was only trying to get one of the hand pies he’d come in with. But well… good behavior was to be rewarded. The sweets he’d brought were for it anyway - a bit better than the scones he’d made weeks back, but definitely not good enough for his standards.
It was already scooting closer when he started beckoning.
Hands raised up, it made a grabby motion, “can’t you just gimme them dude?”
The words came out in almost a whine, more petulant than distressed, a mask slipped on when it felt less threatened but still wanted something. It made him glad he didn’t know it out of captivity. It was horribly annoying, he’d want it dead for that fact alone.
He didn’t deign it with an answer, just reaching through the bars with its treat and waving it in an inviting motion, “it’s going to get cold, darling.”
“It’s probably already cold…” it muttered, scooting just close enough to snatch the desert with its teeth. The movements were precise, an effort to stay as far away from him as it could, and it retreated to its corner to actually eat its prize.
-——-
“Evening, Pet.”
It didn’t blink an eye at the address, giving a mumbled “mornin’ man…” as it stayed tucked around its little blanket nest in the corner. It was fidgeting with its tamagotchi, content to ignore his presence in the room; today wasn’t one of the days it got fed, and it knew that.
It was… content. Comfortable, or as comfortable as any creature in his care could get in the circumstance.
He smiled.
-——-
“I’m going to be gone for a while.” He said, offhandedly, before he left.
It glanced up at him, narrowing its eye sockets. “Yeah?” It hummed, prying.
“Yes.” He confirmed. “You’ll be bereft of my lovely company.”
“Good riddance,” it laughed, but the sound seemed forced. Probably more stressed about the change in schedule than his departure.
“No tearful farewell? What an awful pet you make.” He sighed, mock-mournful.
It blew a raspberry at him, before a thought seemed to occur to it, “are you leaving any grub for me?”
He smiled at that, which certainly got its attention. “Why of course, I can’t have you starving, now can I?”
It relaxes a little at that, but he continued before it could get too comfortable, “I’ll leave some dust for you, dear.” He gestured to the table, next to the wall, near the entrance of the dungeon. On it, a platter of dust; something he knew his pet had been curious about the whole visit, “The door will be locked, of course, but I’ll leave enough food that you won’t be hungry at all by the time I return.”
Fresh looked at him with narrowed eye sockets, “and how am I supposed to get outta here for that?”
“You’ve always known how to get out of that cell, Fresh.”
It snarled at him, a more aggressive sound than he’d seen from it in a while. It was fine, you had to break a few eggs to make an omelet. His pet's trust might be broken, but he was sure they’d be closer once it realized the only way forward was by doing what he wants.
“I’m not putting it on.” It spat, spines flared and stance wide- the picture of an animal cornered. It hadn’t even glanced at the collar, not a moment's consideration.
“Then I guess I’ll come back to a pile of dust for a pet,” he sighed, “a pity, for how many months I put into you.”
A reminder of investment, what would normally be leverage against him, he felt he could use to get under its skin. He’d spent so much time keeping it, feeding it, visiting it everyday… it couldn’t really believe putting on that collar would mean he’d throw away all that and start hurting it. It would be inefficient, illogical, and he’d always prided himself on making everything he did make sense- for a given definition of the word.
All that it would lose putting that little collar on was a meager amount of freedom it didn’t even have. Was that worth so much? Did that really hurt its ego, pride, so very badly?
Growling answered him.
“You’d look so cute in it,” he said, almost wistfully, “my adorable little pet, clearly and irrefutably Mine.”
The growling didn’t stop, and it lashed its tail in clear anger. Little tremors shook it, and in times like these its emotions were so jumbled up it was hard to differentiate them from its host. He liked to think the sweet taste of fear belonged all to it though.
The visit ended like many did when he first got it. With Fresh shoved into the corner, angry and giving him the silent treatment. The collar inconspicuously between them. An air of tension filling the room…
It was poetic, he smiled, for this would surely be one of his last.
-——-
He nearly skipped down the steps towards the little single celled dungeon he kept Fresh in, the door in sight. It had been weeks since he’d seen his cute little pet, and he missed it dearly.
It could be dead, of course, stuck in its little corner and starved to death, but he highly doubted it. The darling thing was indeed arrogant as even he, but it was cunning as well. Something like that might end broken through shattered pride, but it wouldn’t end up actually letting itself die.
The door unlocked with a satisfying click, and he pushed the door open slowly. It creaked, loudly, and he knew Fresh would hear.
“Fresh,” he crooned as he looked inside, and he was instantly greeted by a delightful sight. The cell door was open, the food left out nearly gone, and his pet in its little corner, staring at him as he entered.
Best of all, however, was the collar around its neck. [Though, its widened eye-sockets and small tremors took an easy second place.]
He nearly laughed at that fact, that it was still wearing it now that the cell had opened. He’d said it couldn’t be taken off, couldn't be removed by anyone but him- and it believed him!
He’d never lied before, made sure every word out of his mouth was provable. And it all paid off. Even angry and tired and scared, it didn’t think to pull the collar off once it was on - all because of his word. Knowingly or not, it had trusted him enough to not even try.
Months of work, all culminating in a single moment. He hadn’t seen it, but that didn’t matter, it was good enough it happened at all.
He slinked into its cell, something he hadn’t done since he’d stuck the thing in there when he’d first gotten it, and it shrunk back. He cooed some gentle honeyed words at it as he approached. His tentacles dragged along the cell floor, totally relaxed; he felt… sated, full. He wouldn’t even care if it tried to bite him for getting so close, he felt so good.
It didn’t bite him though, and he let his smile get impossibly wider still.
The creature didn’t have anywhere to go, the collar meaning its magic was locked down even further than it was by just being in the cell, so it couldn’t do anything but look up at him. It looked so, so small.
He reached out with his hands and slid his fingers around its lower jaw, curled around its mandible bones. He could feel the faintest tremors from the touch. With an easy motion, he rubbed under its eye sockets with his thumb.
Fresh felt both warm and cold under his touch. He ran chillier than most with his unique… status, so of course it felt hotter than him. But, while Fresh certainly wasn’t his temperature, it still felt notably more chilly than the average skeleton, almost like touching a corpse, an inanimate skeleton.
“I am so glad you came to your senses, Fresh.” He could feel it tremble even more, hearing its name, “I knew you had it in you.”
It tried to look away, his grip on its jaw forcing it to still. He could almost hear a whine, but that might’ve been his wishful thinking. Without being able to hide with its gaze, it pulled its blanket further over its shoulders.
“Do you want to come upstairs and have a treat, pet?” He asked, easy as breathing, like he’d been waiting to do so this entire time, like it was the only one stopping them from having that.
It nodded, but at his tightening grip, let out a quiet answer, “yes, Nightmare.”
Hearing his name never felt so good.