Mishka: Overkill

Mishka wasn’t sure he could kill Aleksei.

He had a vague plan, but it had four steps, and he wasn’t sure any of them were going to work.

But-- he decided to try it, anyway, just to see where he got.

He kept telling himself that. He wasn’t actually going to go through with it. He was just gonna see. And then stop.

--

The first thing Mishka needed was Larkin.

That part turned out to be easy. He went to Skyport and rapped on her door, and she peeked out at him, bleary-eyed and irritated.

He told her, “My ex-boyfriend fucked with Goro.” And, “Remember that day at the museum? Aleksei got into his head. Took every, looked over all his memories. Violated him. Then erased it.” He said, “I want to kill Aleks. I need you to do something for me.”

Larkin was in, after that.

--

The second thing Mishka needed was a ring of mind-shielding.

Or… maybe not a ring of mind-shielding, exactly, but… something like that. Something that would prevent Aleksei from reading a person’s thoughts. He thought about asking for Goro’s, but-- he didn’t want to take it from him. It felt like stealing a piece of armor away from Goro right after he’d been stabbed. Didn’t sit right.

Abram Abernathy had one. Mishka felt it that day he and Larkin had broken in to talk to him; he keenly remembered trying to reach out and read Abram’s thoughts, and he keenly remembered failing. It felt blank there, like there was nothing there at all.

He needed someone who could locate objects. Mishka brooded over this a while, then reluctantly asked Luci to come with them. He really didn’t fucking want to-- she was a child-- but he knew she’d understand his reasons for keeping this quiet, she’d help him with this one small peice without selling him out. He teleported all three of them outside Alabaster, then quietly stood outside the prison with Luci while she cast her spell. She held a forked twig on her palm, then spun it.

Mishka took note of the direction the twig pointed, then silently slipped inside the prison. The twig pointed to the evidence locker on the second floor. Mishka picked it open, found the ring, then tucked it into his pocket.

Part two was done.

--

The problem with killing Aleksei was, he could fucking read minds. It made him almost impossible to ambush. He could not only read a person's thoughts specifically-- he could also cast it out in a broad net, detecting all living and thinking creatures around him in a wide radius. If Mishka led him into a trap, he’d sense something was off, check for a hidden ambush, then vanish as soon as he realized he was outnumbered.

Mishka needed to be craftier than that.

Aleksei needed to think he was safe. He need to think he and Mishka were alone.

He gave the ring of mind-shielding to Larkin. Mishka murmured the words to a *detect thoughts* spell, then cast it out, feeling everything around him to see if he could sense how many living things were inside the inn. He could feel Luci behind him, sitting on the bed, and he could feel the bartender downstairs, thinking about tonight's stew, and he could feel a sense a few guests in the nearby rooms.

But Larkin, wearing the ring of mind-shielding, was completely undetectable.

“It works,” Mishka said, pleased. He checked himself in the mirror. “Larkin, I need you to do me a favor. Can you punch me?”

Without question, Larkin decked him.

“Oh my *god*,” Mishka said, clutching his eye. “You didn’t have to use your brass fucking knuckles.”

“Psh.”

“Corellon’s dick,” Mishka hissed, checking himself in the mirror. He prodded his face. His eye was red and it was throbbing in pain. In ten minutes, he’d have a good bruise there. “Oh my god,” Mishka muttered to himself. “It just occurred to me. I could’ve just used the mask to make myself *look* like I had a black eye. I didn't actually have to get punched. Oh my god.”

Larkin laughed. “This way is better. You ready to go?”

Mishka snapped his fingers, and Larkin turned invisible. “Ready,” Mishka said. “Luci, stay here. If something bad happens, Larkin will use the Sending Bead to contact you. After that, contact Joan and let her know whatever happened. She’ll know what to do from there.” He’d gone over an entire backup plan with her in case things went wrong and Mishka or Larkin needed help.

“Yes, I know,” Luci said. Her face was cool and smooth as usual, but she looked a little pleased for some reason.

Mishka wavered. He really fucking wanted to hug her, but he was also pretty sure she didn’t like being touched, so he went for an awkward side-hug instead, and somehow that turned into a front hug. Mishka patted her, and they both awkwardly stepped away. Luci’s face looked a little more pleased, but frankly, it was fucking impossible to tell. He thought the corner of her mouth might have twitched up a little. Maybe. Probably a trick of the light.

“Let me walk you to the temple teleportation circle,” Mishka said.

--

Once they walked Luci to the local teleportation circle and she’d returned safely to the castle, Mishka and Larkin headed to Aleksei’s estate.

Mishka splashed a little whiskey on himself so he smelled, then poured some into his mouth, swished it around, and spat it out. He limped up to the front door, then knocked.

A servant girl answered. “Can I talk to Aleks?” Mishka slurred.

The servant girl shrieked and slammed the door in his face.

Mishka leaned against the wall and waited, closing his eyes. Counting his heartbeats. Breathing slowly in and out. He thought about the way Hansel looked up at him in the orchard. The way he said, *Just make it go away. D’you want me to beg? You want me to fuckin’ apologize and grovel at your feet?* The vacant look in his eyes, like Mishka had ripped all the organs out of his chest.

*I'm gonna make this all better,* Mishka thought. *Gonna take care of it, neshama. You don’t have to do a thing. I've got you. I've got you.*

 Eventually the door opened again, and there was Aleks.

It was weird, seeing him again, outside the context of a fight. Aleks blinked at him, looking half-sleep and rumpled, and then his eyes focused, widening, fixing on Mishka. He took a step back, as if to invite Mishka in, then wavered. “Mishka?” He looked around behind Mishka.

Mishka stumbled into Aleks, wrapping his arms around Aleks’s back. Aleks stiffened.

Mishka closed his eyes. He stood in the doorway a long moment, making it certain it remained open wide. On second. Two seconds. Three. That was probably enough for Larkin to get inside unnoticed.

Aleksei closed the door behind him. “I want to be alone with you,” Mishka said, muffled, into Aleksei’s shirt.

Aleksei hesitated, then wrapped his arm around Mishka. “What happened?”

“Hansel,” Mishka said. “Threw me out. Again. This morning.”

He was pretty fucking sure this was what Aleksei had wanted. It made sense. Aleksei had turned Hansel against him, made Hansel think he was a fucking monster. He knew Aleksei well: The next step there would have been to wait a little while, then step back into Mishka’s life at the exact moment Mishka was isolated and desperate for support. He’d reveal he was alive, and he still loved Mishka, and bring him home, and whisper how none of it was Mishka’s fault and everything was okay now. Whispering that Hansel didn’t trust him because Hansel was afraid of him, but not Aleksei. Aleksei would say, *I know what a monster you are and I love you anyway. I’m sorry he doesn’t, sweetheart.*

 The wrench had been Goro. Insisting they check Hansel’s memory. Coming to check on Mishka.

*Aleksei came to see me that night,* Mishka thought, stomach twisting. And if he’d caught Mishka alone-- by himself, up in that tree-- and Goro hadn’t come to talk to him earlier-- Mishka would’ve fucking fallen for it. He knew he would’ve. He would’ve fallen into Aleksei’s arms and begged Aleksei to take him home, to somewhere safe, so he could forget about this and drink himself into a stupor. He would’ve cried into Aleksei’s hair about how fucking sorry he was for killing Aleksei, and Aleksei would’ve forgiven him so fucking easily.

Hansel and Goro never would’ve found him again. He would’ve given Mishka a ring of mind-shielding and convinced Mishka to block any of their Sendings. He would’ve explained, softly, how painful talking to either of them would be, and it was better this way, really, because this way Mishka would never accidentally hurt either of them again.

Mishka’s hands fisted in Aleksei’s clothing. Everything felt... locked up and tense.

He spoke in a jumble. "Hansel doesn't even want to-- fucking deal with me anymore."

“Oh, Mishka,” Aleks said. He pulled Mishka further inside.

Mishka glanced around through lidded eyes. The entryway was fairly isolated. No guards. *Too open,* Mishka thought. No good. They needed to be somewhere completely alone so he and Larkin had time to do everything properly.

“I’m so sorry,” Aleksei said. “I’m so sorry.” He hugged Mishka tight. “Are you— are you okay? Is this all he did?” He touched Mishka’s eye.

Mishka averted his eyes and didn’t answer.

Aleksei carefully carded the hair out of Mishka’s face. It was frozen with snowflakes. “Tell me what happened.”

It’d be more realistic if he cried, so he imagined how he felt when Hansel threw him out the first time, when he thought he thought he’d done something horribly wrong and Hansel was so fucking angry at him he wouldn’t even tell Mishka what it was.

Tears slid down Mishka’s face. “He doesn’t care about me anymore,” Mishka choked out. “After Hansel-- died, Goro-- brought him back. And-- they cleared my name, and f… figured out what you did. And… things were okay, for a few days. They were tense. Then--” Mishka twisted away to hide his face. “I don’t fucking know. It was too much. I’d already… f-fucked with him too much in the past, I think, or-- something. That thing you did, it just-- broke him. He didn’t want me around anymore. Didn’t want it to happen again, I think. So he told me to get the fuck out, and-- we fought-- and I didn’t know where else to go. I missed you. I’m so sorry, Aleks. I’m so sorry. You were right. I kept thinking about... about what you said in the orchard. How you'd love me no matter what I did, and-- I missed you. I missed you so fucking much."

Aleksei looked pleased. “Well. Good.” He cupped Mishka’s face. “Do you want to stay here?”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, of course.” Aleksei put his hand on the small of Mishka’s back. “I’m sorry. I mean-- we’ll have to take your weapons, obviously, and-- you might have to sleep locked in a room with magic-dampeners in it-- I’m sorry, Mishka. You, um, are a criminal. And-- ha, I don’t want you to kill me in my sleep, obviously. But we’ll figure it out. Okay? I’ll help you. I’ll handle everything. I have a place you can sleep, and in the morning… we’ll discuss our next move.”

Mishka blinked blearily at Aleksei. “Our-- next move? Why don’t we just-- run away together again?”

“We can do that,” Aleksei said. “Or we can clear your name, my love. Sure, you killed me, and killed Asenka, but we’re the Abernathies. I can speak up for you. Explain you were forced into it. And the piracy-- well, those weren’t crimes against Alabaster. Those crimes were committed at sea, my love. You can be here. You can be safe. You can live a normal life. With me. No more running around.” His voice turned thoughtful. “Or we can leave again, sure. But I’m not sure we want to spend the next three years running.”

Aleksei paused, here. And he kissed Mishka’s forehead and said, “One moment. I’m going to check and make sure you’re alone, hm?”

He sang a song softly to himself. Mishka recognized it; it was the tune he always used for *detect thoughts*. Mishka closed his eyes.

Mishka was very good at repressing shit. He forced himself not to think about Larkin, hiding invisibly nearby with the ring of mind-shielding on. If Aleksei read his mind and figured out what was happening, they were fucked.Instead, he focused on breathing. Seven breaths in. Seven breaths out. He focused on his surroundings: the way Aleksei smelled, the texture of their clothing, the stink of whiskey spilled on Mishka’s own shirt.

Aleksei seemed satisfied. He steered Mishka down the hallway.

It felt… weird to Mishka. Aleksei accepted his story so quickly. He stabbed Mishka’s husband in the eye, and then he was immediately willing to believe Mishka came back to him.

It made the back of Mishka’s neck prickle. He felt like he was walking into a trap. He really fucking hoped Aleksei was leading him to a nice soft bedroom where he and Larkin could cut his throat.

“We’ll have to sit and talk more in the morning,” Aleksei said. He sounded distant, like he was still thinking it over. “I mean-- I stabbed your husband in the eye, Mishka. Even if he is just an orc-- I’m sorry, I don’t mean that in a disparaging way, I just mean that orcs are so short-lived. It’s not quite as big a loss as-- well. Nevermind. I’m sorry. I’m being an ass.”

Aleksei led him down the hallway, to an old set of stairs, then down underground. He grabbed a torch and kept walking.

Mishka really fucking hoped Larkin was still following them.

The hallway led to a solid oak door. Aleksei opened it. The interior was beautiful; it had a large, plush bed, a bookcase full of books.

Mishka wet his lips. The room had no windows, and the door locked from the outside.

He wondered if he could use his teleportation magic in here, and figured probably not. Aleksei had prepared this room in advance, the motherfucker. This was exactly what he wanted. He wanted Mishka here.

Well, fucking good. Mishka wanted him here, too.

“You won’t be able to teleport in or out of here,” Aleksei said. He tried to sound soft and sympathetic, but Mishka could hear the gloating undertone. Fucker. “I’m sorry. But you know I can’t trust you cracking around, wandering in and out of places. You’ll need to stay in here for a little bit while I sort things out up there. I’ll bring you some water when you sober up tomorrow.”

“Larkin,” Mishka said.

“Lar--?” Aleksei said, confused.

And then a wire wrapped around his throat from behind, and Larkin materialized out of thin air behind Aleksei.

Mishka kicked the door shut behind them.

Aleksei choked silently, trying to claw at the thing choking him, but the wire was so sharp it cut his fingers to ribbons. Larkin worked fast. She cinched the wire tighter, and it severed his throat. Aleksei collapsed onto the ground.

“Fucking amazing,” Mishka said breathlessly. He paced in a little circle, shaking out his hands. “Okay. Phase four. Oh, my god. Goro’s gonna be so fucking relieved. Hansel, too. We killed him. I’m going to buy you a fucking cake, Larkin. I’m going to put candles on it. It’s going to say, *Thank you for murdering my ex-boyfriend.* Oh my god.” He kicked Aleks’s dead body in the side. “Take that, you motherfucker! You’re fucking dead! Because I’m fucking smarter than you, you son of a bitch! Because I have a specific goal and well-ordered plans, not just vague manipulative bullshit! Because I get things done, you asshole!”

Larkin smirked. “You owe me.” She made the handsign for *debt*. “C’mon. Celebration later. Job now. Time's ticking. We gotta get this bastard to Joan.”

“Yes. Absolutely. Phase four. Let’s go.”

Mishka stepped outside the room and drew a teleportation circle as fast as possible. Meanwhile, Larkin made short work of Aleksei’s body; she cut out his tongue, then cut off his hands and feet, then cauterized the wounds with a blade Mishka heated for her, then bound his arms and legs. Mishka counted the seconds quietly to himself. Forty-one seconds. Forty-two. Forty-three. Forty-four.

Larkin stuffed Aleksei’s severed bodyparts into a bag to take with them, then dragged the body into the teleportation circle. Mishka reached into the air, tore open a hole in space, and they stepped through the portal into the castle basement back home, and together he and Larkin carried Aleksei’s body through the portal.

--

Joan was waiting for them in the basement, sitting wide-legged in a chair, jiggling her foot impatiently.

As soon as they stepped through the teleportation circle, Joan stepped up and knelt beside Aleksei’s body. She put her hands on his chest, fingers glowing with magic, and murmured the words to a *revivify* spell.

Aleksei jerked awake as his wounded throat healed. His tongue, however, and his fingers-- his missing body parts-- didn’t come back. Aleksei made a strangled, wordless sound of confusion and terror, staring up at Mishka.

“So, I want to preface this by saying I am deeply sorry and do not want to do this,” Mishka said. “But you brought this on your fucking self by touching my fucking husband, you worthless piece of shit.”

Joan and Larkin grabbed his arms. Aleksei shrieked, and Mishka stuffed a rag into his mouth and bound it tight. He really hoped nobody came to investigate the screaming. Joan and Lakrin dragged him back towards the cells in the back of the room.

They dragged him out the back entrance into the woods. They stopped in a clearing about fifteen minutes away.

Mishka's heart was still beating fast. He didn’t *think* Aleksei could cast any spells with his hands and tongue removed, but he wasn’t sure. Aleksei seemed helpless and terrified and enraged, glaring furiously at Mishka over his gag.

Mishka kicked him into the dirt. "You know what happened to Asenka? I tried to bring her back. I tried. But I fucked it up, and she came back as this-- fucking ghost thing instead. And then we had to… to kill her. And she was so badly corrupted, it destroyed her all the way, Aleks. No afterlife, no reincarnation, no resurrection. Just gone."

Aleksei scrambled backwards, trying to put distance between them. Joan dropped her backpack onto the ground, full of torturing supplies.

“So that’s what we’re gonna do to you,” Mishka said. “Y’know, I consulted a necromancer, and he said that ghosts are typically echoes of people who have died horrifically. So that’s what we’re going to do, Aleks. I’m gonna kill you, you son of a bitch, and then Joan’s gonna bring you back again, and then I'm gonna kill you, and then Joan's gonna bring you back again. We’re gonna see how many times it takes to kill somebody before they become a ghost. Then I'm gonna kill your ghost. Then I'm gonna incinerate your body. There is no fucking reasonable way to stop you, so I’ve decided this is my new level of reasonable. No more looking over my shoulder to see if someone rezzed you. No more Aleksei. Not ever. Because this-- this is what happens when you lay a fucking finger on my husband.”

Aleksei tried to say something. It came out as a choked gurgle, then a muffled scream.

—

It turned out they only had to kill him three more times.