"Why didn't you kill him?"
Ira's eyes stayed forward, looking up at the monitors focused on her prisoner. She appeared poised, but her steel fingers dug into her brown flesh, her eyes narrowed as she ignored the question.
Darrion clenched his teeth, infuriated but undeterred by his boss's silence, "Boss, why didn't you kill him?"
Her the corner of her lips twitched, before parting with a hiss, "I heard you the first time." Her eyes remained on the screen, taking in the bruised face of her sleeping prince, trapped within one of the many, many cells within the bowels of the Dante compound. She could feel her stomach coiling in uncontrolled knots as the earlier quarrel between her and Tristan unraveled in her mind.
His anger.
His defiance.
His tears.
She was torn between pressing her fingers to tip against those pixelated, bruised cheeks, whispering soft apologies, and promises of mercy...
Or slamming her fist into the monitor, decimating it and watching the sparks ignite, destroying it as much as she ached to ruin him.
Darrion eyes narrow into thin slits; he could feel the heat in the room pulsing. No matter how level-headed and poised she appeared, he could feel the conflict raging in her. He tilted his head sharply towards the screen, biting back a hiss towards the object of her entrancement, "Boss, I'm still here."
Finally, she deigned to give him a response, "You are usually the more patient of one of us, Darrion. Do you really think that I would let things end so soon?"
His eyes shifted once more to Ira, scanning her face, studying her expression. Again, much to his irritation, that crimson gaze was on that damn monitor, "I was assuming that he would be executed for his interference in our business, Boss." He released a short grunt, stuffing his clenched fists into his pockets, "Why are you keeping him around?"
"To interrogate him. Find out where he and..." Her voice held a deep, guttural edge, her upper vibrating with a primal growl, "Seraph got information about our operations."
Darrion held firm as he felt the heat emanating from Wrath begin to scald his skin, droplets of sweat bubbling underneath the brim of his fedora. As frustrated as he was, he knew it was better to let her ramble.
"Perhaps there is a mole in our organization. Perhaps they had an ally within the police department. Someone who you haven't befriended. Who Greed hasn't paid off yet. Someone who I haven't disposed of." Ira kept talking, excuses filling the silence, "Maybe someone that managed to bypass Sybil's surveillance."
"...I'm...' hurt'..." A little drone rose from a corner, a pale, neon light flashing blinking on and off from its central lens before hovering beside Ira. Tiny bristles brushed against her muscular shoulder as it landed, peering up at her with a half-lidded flap as it spoke with a mechanical voice. Still, Sybils' unmistakable wit and ghostly chuckle indicated that she was quite awake, "You know...breach of...security...is more...human...error."
Ira looked down over to the drone, her sharp eyes softening slightly, "...You are human Sybil...but you are correct; I know you would never fail me." It was wrong of her even to consider Sloth a scapegoat option; The wealth of information Sybil collected and stored meant that any question could be answered on one of her many many screens, easily at a milliseconds' notice.
Sybil knew why Ira kept the boy alive.
She could feel Darrions' violet eyes prickling at the side of her head, unsatisfied, "What will you do with him after the interrogation, Boss?"
Everyone, especially the sin of Pride, was chomping at the bit to kill the prisoner.
To kill her beloved Tristan.
Indeed, that was the most logical solution.
Ira turned her head coolly towards the usually stoic, blond man, meeting his irritated gaze with her own eyes.
Sybil could spook him away. That was the Sloths' favorite past time. In fact, she could see another drone silently hovering behind him, thin tentacles whirring in the darkness, the sound covered by the other beeps and drones within the ambiance. Each one was ready to strike at his favorite hat, to hide it away to his annoyance and Sybils' eternal amusement.
It would be a welcomed distraction; Darrion was especially stubborn today. However, he was part of her family.
Her incomplete family.
The most logical solution was not what she wanted.
Wrath ALWAYS gets what she wants.
"After the interrogation, after I learn everything I can about him..." Her lips split open into a wide grin, baring her teeth, "I'm going to make him mine. Make him ours."
Darrion balked, his serious brown burrowing further as he gasped out, "Ours?!"
The tentacled drone behind Darrion shivered, almost like it was in delight, as the spectral voice fluttered throughout the room like a wisp, "A new...brother. Cute...Fun..."
The sin of pride hissed through his teeth, stomping away from the drone and looking down at Ira, incredulously, "He can't be a part of this family-"
"Can't?" Ira must have misheard him, "Excuse you?"
Her red eyes blazed, the temperature in the room raised by several degrees as a humid, burning weight boring down onto Darrion. He could feel his knees buckling. It was only his pride that seemed to keep him upright, fighting against the instinctive, primal threat Wrath posed. He was letting his frustration get the better of him, "He won't join us. He's been playing the hero with Seraph."
The temperature seemed to regulate, the air thinning. His shoulders felt lighter, now that Ira was accepted his correction. However, she scoffed, her tongue pressed against the roof of her mouth before clicking in a release, "He will."
"How can you be so sure?"
Ira chuckled, the sound hungry, predatory, "He doesn't have a choice." She raised a thick eyebrow, her full lips pressed together, tilting up towards one cheek, "Satisfied?" She turned away from him to the drone at her shoulder, "Deliver everything available about Tristan Lamarr to my office. Nothing of him is secret anymore." She barely acknowledged the drones' nod as she turned away, walking from the monitors, eyes facing forward towards her desire.
Darrion could only stand there, stunned. He did not like this feeling, did not how much someone took in their leader...
By that boy.
He clenched his fist, snarling softly, "He'll only disappoint you, Ira."
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