It's an extreme thought - one that makes even him recoil a little in disgust, but despite whatever starved husk of a conscience he has left, a perfectly rational realization follows in its wake:
He'd be fine anyway.
That's right... It doesn't really matter here if he beats the kid to a bloody pulp, if he's just going to pop right back up. There'd be no reason to feel guilty about it, and he'd get it through that thick skull that he isn't fucking around. Because even scaring Ethan shitless a few times just doesn't cut it, apparently. He has to prove he can and will hurt him if he needs to.
Just like he should have hurt Junko Enoshima all those years ago, who held his darkest secrets over his head just like this. That was just before the Tragedy, before he was forced into a life where death was the norm, and he still wanted to pound her face into the ground, into an unrecognizable pulp of scattered teeth and brain matter, and he should have-
He howls in wordless fury and reels his fist back, but the only plans he has of releasing Ethan are to free him from this mortal coil, at least for a few minutes.]
[ There's something deep inside of Ethan that speaks as he sees the fury in the man's eyes, the intent, a feeling that pumps andrenaline through him to the point that he quivers as he squirms against a powerful grasp that makes the wood against the side of his face creak.
Scream.
The situation may be different, but the aura is the same, making the hairs at the back of his neck stand on end and his eyes widen with a surge of energy to flee, from the numbing muscle in his legs to the drumming of his heart in his head. He wants to kill me, he finalizes, the roar of the boxer's wrath ringing in his ears and his face being spared from the hold— for seconds, because his fist is only pulling back to gain the momentum it needed to pummel into his face, break his teeth, fracture his jaw, his face— the fear speaks to Ethan a second time, coaxing out a startled squeak as his body stumbles against the wall behind him and into the worst place to be: a corner.
Scream, Ethan. Scream and run, you can't win this.
Ethan staggers violently for his footing, nearly hitting the ground before his feet raise him, eyes still glued to the older but pinned at this point, with nowhere to go and staring murder right in the face. Staring at someone who wants to kill you. Ethan can already feel the rush of wind ready to crash into his cheek, every moment moving like a bullet. He doesn't think, he doesn't question what his gut tells him to do: he shuts his eyes tight, flinches back, letting the burst in his throat sound in a thunderous cry— one that rattles the air and seizes his attacker in a paralyzing strangle from head to toe.
The sound is high pitched, distorted and inhuman that coils around Mallory like a serpent and imobilizes every fiber that had been ready to beat the demi human to a bloody pile. ]
[A second later, and Mal's fist surely would have been connecting with the other side of Ethan's skull from the inside. Even with the onset of paralysis, the momentum behind the swing is enough to connect with enough force to rupture a little something in his nose for thread continuity, and then he-
stops.
His vision goes black for a second as he sinks right into a sea of all-too-familiar terror. He can't move, he's stuck, he's going to die, where's Luna, Luna!! His pupils dilate as he stares down at Ethan, beads of sweat already gathering on his face, but the beating does not continue.
[ The scream stops as soon as what's left of the punch connects, a sting burying just under his eye, into his maxilla and nose. Not enough to break anything (Or did he?), but enough to leave a bruise later— and present him with wetness trickling down his lips, to the floor, on his clothes. Ethan forgets to breathe as he pulls himself up, catching the return of his surroundings, the warmth and taste of iron at the tip of his tongue. He blinks, attempting to crinkle the numbing sensation from his bleeding nose and putting a hand over the dripping.
He inhales, looks up, and with Mallory paralyzed, he only then connects what he's done. He's still alive, but at what cost, now? The tables have turned, and now— Ethan's the one who's dreading, startled and fearful glance speaks louder than words: Mallory saw too much. ]
Sh—Shit—
[ In the rush, he staggers, trips, dirties the floors further with his blood smeared hands, and does the one thing ajin had to do when caught red handed: run. With quickened stares to Mallory's rigid form, just to make sure he really stayed, Ethan goes straight for the door without looking back, leaving the mess of blood and jam behind him.
You can bet he isn't coming back any time soon, not after that one. ]
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no subject
It's an extreme thought - one that makes even him recoil a little in disgust, but despite whatever starved husk of a conscience he has left, a perfectly rational realization follows in its wake:
He'd be fine anyway.
That's right... It doesn't really matter here if he beats the kid to a bloody pulp, if he's just going to pop right back up. There'd be no reason to feel guilty about it, and he'd get it through that thick skull that he isn't fucking around. Because even scaring Ethan shitless a few times just doesn't cut it, apparently. He has to prove he can and will hurt him if he needs to.
Just like he should have hurt Junko Enoshima all those years ago, who held his darkest secrets over his head just like this. That was just before the Tragedy, before he was forced into a life where death was the norm, and he still wanted to pound her face into the ground, into an unrecognizable pulp of scattered teeth and brain matter, and he should have-
He howls in wordless fury and reels his fist back, but the only plans he has of releasing Ethan are to free him from this mortal coil, at least for a few minutes.]
no subject
Scream.
The situation may be different, but the aura is the same, making the hairs at the back of his neck stand on end and his eyes widen with a surge of energy to flee, from the numbing muscle in his legs to the drumming of his heart in his head. He wants to kill me, he finalizes, the roar of the boxer's wrath ringing in his ears and his face being spared from the hold— for seconds, because his fist is only pulling back to gain the momentum it needed to pummel into his face, break his teeth, fracture his jaw, his face— the fear speaks to Ethan a second time, coaxing out a startled squeak as his body stumbles against the wall behind him and into the worst place to be: a corner.
Scream, Ethan. Scream and run, you can't win this.
Ethan staggers violently for his footing, nearly hitting the ground before his feet raise him, eyes still glued to the older but pinned at this point, with nowhere to go and staring murder right in the face. Staring at someone who wants to kill you. Ethan can already feel the rush of wind ready to crash into his cheek, every moment moving like a bullet. He doesn't think, he doesn't question what his gut tells him to do: he shuts his eyes tight, flinches back, letting the burst in his throat sound in a thunderous cry— one that rattles the air and seizes his attacker in a paralyzing strangle from head to toe.
The sound is high pitched, distorted and inhuman that coils around Mallory like a serpent and imobilizes every fiber that had been ready to beat the demi human to a bloody pile. ]
no subject
for thread continuity, and then he-stops.
His vision goes black for a second as he sinks right into a sea of all-too-familiar terror. He can't move, he's stuck, he's going to die, where's Luna, Luna!! His pupils dilate as he stares down at Ethan, beads of sweat already gathering on his face, but the beating does not continue.
Better run.]
no subject
He inhales, looks up, and with Mallory paralyzed, he only then connects what he's done. He's still alive, but at what cost, now? The tables have turned, and now— Ethan's the one who's dreading, startled and fearful glance speaks louder than words: Mallory saw too much. ]
Sh—Shit—
[ In the rush, he staggers, trips, dirties the floors further with his blood smeared hands, and does the one thing ajin had to do when caught red handed: run. With quickened stares to Mallory's rigid form, just to make sure he really stayed, Ethan goes straight for the door without looking back, leaving the mess of blood and jam behind him.
You can bet he isn't coming back any time soon, not after that one. ]