Well, Froggie?

The Prince twirled the blade between his fingers playfully, light glinting off of the sharped edge and down to the handle as he deftly manipulated the knife. He was practically quivering with excitement or bloodlust or some other base and creepy emotion Fran didn t quite want to hear about, his hidden eyes undoubtedly flickering between the man duct taped to a chair in the center of the room and the illusionist perched atop a pile of crates. The Prince was more than eager to get started, and Fran could have told anyone that just by watching the way Belphegor practically twitched with excitement to bring that blade to skin. He was way too eager, and Fran almost found that eagerness obscene. Almost. Yes, senpai? Belphegor gestured vaguely with the knife. You re sure we re hidden? The Prince doesn t want interruptions. Fran raised his head with effort (the hood really was heavy) and looked around the room. The warehouse wasn t typically where they conducted interrogations, particularly ones that the Prince conducted, but it had been convenient and isolated enough that it would serve their purposes without a lot of hassle. A quick illusion had done the rest, turning the once massive warehouse into a particularly uninteresting vacant lot complete with stray garbage and overgrown weeds. People would see it, but they just wouldn t care, and any particularly loud and shrill screams would become nothing more unusual than honking horns and howling wind. It was child s play, an illusion Fran could have cast in his sleep after a head injury, but he appeased Bel with a glance around to ensure the illusion was still in perfect working order. Yes, senpai. It s perfect. Fran toyed with the brown leather wallet in his hands and folded his legs beneath him. He d chosen the stack of crates for a reason; it gave him a good vantage point to watch Bel work, while still keeping him safely out of the splatter zone. In his opinion it wasn t a good idea to get bloody, even with someone elses blood, when the Prince was in a mood. Friend or foe not withstanding. Even the guy in the other room won t hear anything. Belphegor s grin grew, his head turning in the direction of the shut door leading into a small storage area. Shishishi maybe you should let him. He should be able to appreciate the Prince s work. I d prefer him not to die of boredom before he talks to us, Bel-senpai. Hey! Bel s grin faded a little. The Prince s methods are perfect. And if you don t believe it He held up a handful of knives, fanning them out so Fran could see the wickedly curved blades of each. The Prince will be happy to use you for a demonstration. Fran held up a hand and shook his head. He was familiar with how those knives felt, and he personally couldn t be bothered to deal with them at the moment. Pulling them out of his back, chest, arms, head, one by one got tiresome, and repairing holes and slices in his coat grew old fast. You re right, Bel-senpai. Please continue. I don t need your permission. Nonetheless Bel turned away from him and focused his attention back on their captive. His grin had grown again, until Fran could practically hear his teeth grind together in sick anticipation. To the captive s

credit, he looked relatively calm, working his wrists together to try and loosen the duct tape while he stared down Bel and Fran alternately. Either he didn t fear death, in which case they were in for a long night, or he didn t know Prince the Ripper by reputation. Fran liked to think it was the latter. It would piss Bel off. You just sit there and watch, Bel continued as he approached the man and stashed away all knives except for one. It was supposed to be an interrogation after all, and even Bel knew to start slow. I planned to, Fran muttered. He always did watch while Bel worked his art . The smallest details were the most important ones when it came to casting realistic, believable illusions, and Bel was the perfect man to observe when Fran needed references to blood and how the body behaved to being slowly cut apart. His master wasn t too big into gore, but Fran always found it fascinating, and he d learned more than he liked to admit about blood spray from watching Bel work. Bel approached the man until he was within arms reach, and at that distance he practically towered over the seated man, who looked up at him with annoyance but clear defiance. Belphegor must have presented an imposing figure, with the knives, the wide, maniac s grin and the hidden eyes, but the seated man didn t look the slightest bit intimidated. A shame really, that he didn t look like he was taking the assassin pair very seriously, and Fran considered giving Bel some nightmarish horns or cloven hooves to help up the fear and panic in the room.

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