Mainstream Deviation

MAINSTREAM DEVIATION
CHAPTER SIX: Breaking the Fifth

TITLE: Mainstream Deviation
RATING: NC-17
GENRE: Sci-fi, Drama
WARNINGS: Aaaaaangst…oh the aaaaangst!
DISCLAIMER: Do I need to say it again, infidels?

Words to Reviewers: This is a new segment I’m adding in for all my groovy cool reviewers. The first one will have a shout out to ALL of you guys.

Redfox – Major props for being my first reviewer ever. Go you! You win a virtual cookie!

Az_Lin – Yay for curious people! Curious people come back to read more! Please continue being so curious ^_^.

Susuc – Glad you like the sex candy. Bringing you more at the same bat time, same bat channel.

Alexandra – Gaaaah so kind! You’re making me blush! Yes! Yes! Fear my masterful mastery of the surprising thingies! Fear it!

MidnightShade3 – Thankyou so much for the in depth review. It means a lot to me when someone takes the time and the effort to write something like that. I’m just glad I was able to make you happy ^_^.


Waif yawned heavilly and walked down the corridors on his way back from Pochi’s room where he and the boy had recently had a bit of a chat while the elder Maksim handled his ‘business’. It seemed that the matter over Haru was forgiven as far as the child was concerned and his disciplinarian had seen him off to sleep, tucking him under warm blankets before taking his leave. He had shut the door quietly behind himself, leaving the child to his naïve little dreams before deciding to nip into the kitchen to bother Jorvis for a small bottle of the heavy spirits he kept for the staff in their offtimes. Waif felt that he had earned himself a small bit of a release after all that had happened today and while he was a dedicated worker, he wasn’t above indulging when the time and place seemed correct. Of course, the best of intentions were often foiled by the intervention of Real Life and Waif found himself stopped in his tracks by the odd sound of someone sobbing their heart out in the garden. Who in their right minds would be crying in the GARDEN of all places at THIS time of night? It was nearing on midnight.

Sighing heavilly and realizing that getting a drink must not be in his future tonight, Waif steeled himself for the site of a weepy servant before changing directions on his way towards the formal gardens that his master had planted many years ago. Hell, it must have been nearing on 16 or 17 years since Rurik had designed and planted it for SOME reason. Waif seemed to remember a lover being part of the equation, but his memory didn’t carry that well too far into the past and he didn’t pry too far into his master’s business. He hadn’t even really been an official member of the staff back then, having just come into the Master’s house with some disturbing injuries that ended up taking a year or two to heal entirely. Whatever the reason, a painstaking amount of care had been shown in the creation of the formal gardens and an even larger amount was demonstrated in their upkeep.

The disiplinarian halted just at the archway that led out into the gardens, the heavy glass door that opened into the walkways swinging open. A heady scent of flowers was detectable even from where he stood, a potent mix of fresh roses and jasmine mingling with the delicate scents of lavendar and lilies dancing on the night winds. After a moment of becoming lost in the scents, Waif walked through the archway, carefully shutting the glass door behind him (as it was required to remain closed at night for security’s sake), becoming immersed in the fecund world of flowers and fountains.

Immediately beyond the archway there was a rambling path made of huge riverstones, hedged in by rows of heather, the little purple flowers blooming merrily even in the night. A tall lattice closed most of it in beyond the heather, the wood beams hung heavy with azure morning glories that gave off their own pleasant musk. The gardens opened up beyond that, the path branching off into a cul-de-sac around a deep blue spanish styled fountain that continually poured forth crystal clear waters. The outside of the cul-de-sac held a line of four benches all around the circle so that one could sit and relax in the cool air that circulated off of the fountain. Beyond that there were tall oak trees and flowers that had miraculously flourished on the alien world away from Earth, but Waif wasn’t terribly concerned with noting any of that once he spotted a forlorn figure sitting alone on the lip of the fountain, a snow white camellia nearly the size of his forehead clutched loosely in lax fingers. Waif knew that coppery skin and downy blonde hair anywhere…it was Rurik!

Approaching cautiously, Waif cleared his throat and stopped his steps a respectful distance away from Mr. Maksim, sensing that something was definitely wrong. The master of the household only ever came out into the garden when he was with Pochi or when he was in a depressed mood, remembering the past. Since Pochi was in bed, it had to be the latter and Waif knew better to intrude when Rurik was in the middle of one of his reveries. However…tonight it seemed like he was invited.

“….I broke my promise, Waif.” Came the plaintive notes of Rurik’s voice.

Waif was a little shocked but he hid it well as he usually did, “Broke your promise to who, sir?”

Rurik hid his tearstained face behind the flower clutched in his hand and bit back a sob that was threatening to wrack his slender, muscled frame, “I promised my beloved I’d protect him! I told Lan I’d take care of him and I RAPED him! He…he’s in there bleeding to death on the mattress and it’s MY FAULT!”

The subordinate felt his blood begin to run cold. He was pretty sure he knew who Rurik was referring to when he spoke of the victim of his passions, but he was still compelled to ask, “Who did you hurt, sir?”

“I raped Haru. I raped him, Waif. I beat him and raped him so hard that he was bleeding to death. I had to send Phox in to see to him. Oh god, Waif. I was…I was like a monster…it was like I was another man entirely.” When he looked up at his servant his eyes were even more red than usual from the tears and his expression was one of desperation, compelling Waif to be his companion rather than his underling tonight. He needed that support. He looked almost like his son where he sat there upon the cold marble bench, his shoulders shuddering and his teeth clenched in internal agony. The sight swayed Waif’s heart and he found himself agreeing to the silent plea, sitting down next to Rurik and laying a hand across his shoulders.

Allowing himself to loosen up a bit, Waif squeezed the shoulder in his hand gently, “Master…I’ve seen you lose your temper before. It’s never bothered you on any of the other occasions when you’ve had to dole out punishment.” Of course, Waif knew that forced sex had never been part of the regimen in the past…but he kept that to himself.

“It…It’s different this time Waif…he’s not the same as any of you.” His voice was apologetic, but quite firm on that decision, his red eyes locking with Waif’s. Rurik’s voice quavered as he continued, “If Lan were still around he’d think me a beast. He only asked one thing of me in the end and I couldn’t even keep my promise to him.” He still remembered the look in Haru’s eyes as he completed and it made him shudder with renewed disgust in himself, “I just…I’ve never lost control like that before.”

Waif waited until it seemed that his master was done speaking before he finally allowed his curiosity to get the better of him, “Master…Rurik…You talk about this Lan more than you’ve ever talked about any of your lovers in the past. Who was he? I mean to say that…what was it about him that touched you so deeply? You’ve become a broken man over the pure memory of him. Did he dump you or cheat on you or something of the sort?”

Once again Rurik brought the camellia up to his nose and inhaled its scent deeply before closing his eyes and shaking his head ‘no’ to Waif’s last statements. Did he really want to talk about it? It almost seemed like telling about Lan would be desecrating his most sacred memories…but in the end he decided that he could at least trust one of his longest working servants. Gently laying the camellia down on the cold marble and studying it for a moment, he began to talk in a reverent, maudlin tone, “Lan was…my everything. His smile was my sunlight in the mornings and his laughter was my music. He was my most precious and coveted treasure, the shining gem among a collection of mundane stones. I could lay awake all morning just holding my breath and waiting for the moment when those gorgeous eyes would open up to take in the new day.”

God it hurt. It hurt so much to think about Lan now, to tell someone else about his beautiful one. Yet at the same time, the memories that lanced through his heart like a well-oiled blade brought the saddest of smiles to his face. Lan still made him so happy, even now that he was gone, “I came upon him in the same way that I did Haru…I found him wasting his beauty and talent on the trash of Mainstream City so I brought him here as my slave. At first he was just a pretty toy…but there was something about him that was different. He was playful and kind, sort of rebellious in his own way, and totally addicting. No matter how much I spoiled him he never changed. He was always sort of humble and simple despite everything and he soon became absolutely precious to me. I loved him more than I’ve ever loved anyone or anything else in my entire life.”

“But you lost him.” Waif said a little too blunty and then lowered his head, realizing his mistake, “I am sorry master. That was too bold.”

Rurik pinched his sinuses, “No…no…it’s alright. It’s true that I did lose him eventually. It was shortly after you arrived with those terrible wounds. I remember the last things he ever said to me on our final night together. He told me that he loved me and he begged that I take care of someone called Haru Kanzaki when the time came…and then he was gone. I was left with only four years of happy memories that haunt me to this day.”

The servant regarded his master gently and sighed, calmly removing his hand from Mr. Maksim’s shoulder, “Did you plant this garden for him?”

“I did. After living in that trash heap of a city all of his life he was fascinated with real plants. I had this garden made specially for him, his own private little Babylon.” Rurik smiled in a mournful way and shook his head, smelling the camellia again. These had been his favorite. At last he shook his head and stood a little shakily, “I had best get some sleep. I have too much paperwork to do tomorrow to sleep in. You should rest too, Waif. I want you to keep a close eye on Haru to make sure he’s doing alright. You’ll alert me if anything goes wrong, yes?”

Waif stood and bowed respectfully, “Of course I will, Master.” Of course…he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was already wrong in the house of Maksim.

~*~

After his long and disturbing chat with the master of the house, Waif made his dazed way towards Haru’s room. He might as well get a jump start on his task considering that he really couldn’t see a night of peaceful sleep in his future. Hell, he still hadn’t even had his drink yet this evening, but if things kept going the way they were going, he was sure he was going to desperately need one. Who knew? If things DID keep going the way they were going, the Disciplinarian might be tempted to hang himself with his own long white hair. Drink or Death…it all depended on how Haru’s little ‘checkup’ went.

Waif listened to the click of his own boots against the pristine tile of the long hallways, keeping his eyes ahead. He kept his hands folded up behind his back in classic militaristic fashion, his back ramrod straight. His eyes were glazed over as he concentrated on what was in his head rather than what was ahead of him. This lack of focus meant that he couldn’t really swerve out of the way of obstacles (which unfortunately included the other people who happened to be in his master’s employ). The albino gave a short, loud reprimand full of bile to the first servant he tripped over, sounding like a barking dog. After that, the hired help wised up and learned quickly to head for the hills when they heard the short report of his polished leather shoes upon the floor.

At last the hallways ended and Waif found himself without anymore walking room rather abruptly. He faced the wooden door that led into Haru’s room and he couldn’t help but hesitate, knowing what had occurred in the room earlier in the evening. What would he find when he opened that door? Would the floors be smeared with blood? With semen? Would Haru even still be recognizeable? Would he even still be alive? What if Phox the healer couldn’t save the boy after the boy had endured the rigorous wrath of the redoubtable Rurik Maksim? Waif could feel his hands shaking lightly at his sides in sick anticipation as he prepared to open the door. Slowly he uncurled his hands from the fists they had been in and reached for the smoothly hewn portal…

Suddenly the door slammed open in his face and shocked Waif into jumping back, drawing his hands back quickly to avoid getting his fingertips clipped by the heavy wood. A look of surprise crossed the Disciplinarian’s features until the familiar face of Phox appeared around the door.

Phox was interesting looking as far as Mainstream Virals were concerned, nevermind Deviants. His hair was a crazy electric orange that was only a few shades darker than a highlighter, the tips solid black. Most of his hair was pulled back into a high ponytail except for a shock of pure white that tumbled into his left eye. Those very eyes were vulpine, the color of fresh muscadine grapes with something keen hidden in their depths. He wore a pair of khaki slacks and tennis shoes with a short, styalized whitle labcoat that fell to his hips. There was a fey little smirk on his lips as he regarded the Disciplinarian, “Good evening, Waif! What are you doing out this way so late?”

“Just following orders, Phox. Master wants me to watch over his newest acquisition. How is he faring?” Waif was clipped and formal as always, still trying to recover from his anxiety.

Phox chuckled softly, “He’s your headache now then. Lad’s all bandaged up and paying homages to the Porcelain God…if you catch my drift.”

Waif winced and drew his lip back softly in disgust before releasing another heavy sigh, “…Wonderful. Mental damage?”

“Plenty,” was Phox’s smarmy reply around a hearty smirk, his hands shoved deep in his pockets with a clipboard almost carelessly under his slender arm.

For a long moment Waif was silent, spending those silent seconds scrutinizing the ridiculously cheerful doctor with suspicious eyes. After a minute he scowled at the cheeky medic, “You’re not going to help me out at all are you?”

“Nope,” Phox chirped.

“God I hate you.” Waif’s scowl darkened considerably and he stalked into the room with the healer’s laughter ringing out behind him.

Still planning all manner of evil for Phox once the master’s pet was checked on and there was a good, stiff drink in him, Waif cocked his sensitive ear up and listened carefully for his newly assigned ward. After a few moments he was rewarded with the sound of someone being sick followed by a miserable groan. Oh bloody perfect. Well at least the little bugger was still alive. Waif winced as another horrible sound came from the bathroom, wondering what the full excent of his injuries really were. The Disciplinarian felt a sharp pang of pity for Haru, perfectly aware of how brutal his master could be, especially hen he was out of control.

Preparing his stomach for what he would see upon entering the bahtroom, Waif strode proudly across the softly carpeted floor of the room in which Haru was sequestered. His hands were folded behind his back again to forstall any shaking and unfortunately it was too painfully short a walk for the frazzled servant before he found himself staring at the threshold of the prettily tiled bathroom. It was nicely done just as all of the others throughout the mansion-esque house were with virgin white tiles all over the floor with walls of white marble veined in black. There was a marble and glass shower stall off to one side by the door and in the center of the room there was a sunken, round porcelain tub for those who rather enjoyed baths more than showers. Soft towels sat on a rack along the wall to the back of the tub and upon a rug on the other side of the tub lay poor Haru.

He looked a mess and Waif felt his insides twinge over the sight. Haru was almost entirely bandaged up from his upper torso all the way down to his feet. There were tiny little splotches where blood had seemed to seep through the cottony guaze wraps. He was clearly having a brief reprieve from his roiling stomach but he still looked terribly ill and not all from physical ailments. His eyes were a cloudy sort of bruise purple as he looked up to regard Waif, “….Wh-what the hell…do you want?”

The time seemed to stand still for many long, drawn out minutes wherein Haru could only stare up at Waif while his brain, still in shock, registered what had changed in his new environment. It ticked like a rusty machine through the faces he knew until at last it settled on a picture. The picture was blurry and shifting, like a black and white photograph printed on wet paper, but it was distinctly familiar. A saturnine face surrounded by drifting white hair, deep set with rabbit-pink eyes…the whistle and crack of a hard ritan cane lacerating skin…an association with his most foul and bitter tormentor. Immediately after reaching this conclusion, Haru’s fevered brain went into a panic, categorizing Waif as a direct threat because of his unmistakeable connection to Rurik Maksim. With a cry, Haru shuffled back as fast as he could on his nude bum until his back found a corner and there he cowered in absolute terror.

Waif watched the display in a sort of sick and macabre fascination, wondering at the massive change in the boy who had been so brash and confident in the face of his captivity only a day before. Behind his aloof mask Waif could feel his stomach churning in its own silent horror and the damage his master’s hands had wrought in a single evening. In all honesty it wasn’t Waif’s business to wonder about his employer’s methods or reasons…but even he had to question this case. After a moment of staring which only prompted Haru to cringe further, Waif pulled out his best icy tone and replied in his standard faux-apathetic way, “Calm down. I have no interest in your body if that is what frightens you.”

Despite his words that were meant to be reassuring (even though they really failed to be so), Haru didn’t feel terribly compelled to cease with his cringing fear. He pulled a hand up over his chest to hide himself from those prying pink eyes and he shoved himself further back into a corner when Waif took a step forward, “Don’t touch me!”

It took a valiant effort to quell an impatient growl on the part of the Disciplinarian, but he succeeded in managing to make it sound like nothing more than a cough, “I’m not going to touch you if you’ll just calm down and do as I say. Go get into bed – “

“NO!” Haru yelled and curled up into an even tighter ball (if that was at all possible).

Waif groaned and rolled his eyes, continuing his sentence, “ – Because I DOUBT you’ll want to recover by sleeping in the middle of the bathroom floor. Now are you going to keep feeling sorry for yourself there or are you actually going to get up and get yourself into a position where you can heal properly.” If there was one thing that got to Waif, it was pity-parties. Sure, Haru really deserved to have one right about now, but working through adversity always proved a better solution than wallowing in it in the pale man’s eyes.

“B-but…but…he’ll come again…and he’ll rape me again…Oh god don’t let him do it again!!” Haru was shuddering as if a sudden chill had come over him and he was so preoccupied that he didn’t notice Waif striding across the room until he felt the stinging burn across his cheek. He looked up at the albino in awe, not really believing that he’d just been slapped.

“Do I have your attention now?” Waif looked down at him with those cool pink eyes, his hand still held in the position in which his slap had completed itself, “I hope so, because I do have something to say and I have no intention of repeating myself. You’re scared of the master? Fine. You’re scared of being hurt? Fine. However, I fail to see how lying on the floor and whimpering about it is going to make you any less of a victim. Now I recommend you stop mucking about in the corner, get up, get into bed, heal, and get stronger. Do I make myself clear?” The Disciplinarian waited anxiously to see what sort of a reaction that got although externally he looked perfectly statuesque.

There was still an expression of awe on Haru’s face as he pulled himself up slowly and watched Waif. He had gotten over seeing the other man as a definite threat and now he was just trying to figure out how he should feel about that little speech. The defiant spark in him that had not been snuffed out ordered him to be angry, but the part of him that had been terrified moments before was mollified into doing as the older man commanded of him. In the end he found a harmony between the two, swearing between his teeth as he hobbled across the bathroom towards the door that led out towards the main bedroom. He had to force himself not to wince at the memories as he stood there in the portal between the two rooms, pondering his options.

Waif was a little shocked when he heard a shaky voice that was slowly gaining in strength come from Haru, “You…you report to that dark skinned bastard…don’t you?”

Still blinking in apprehension, his cool mask shattered for a brief moment in time, Waif voiced a short affirmative and was both pleased and shocked at Haru’s reply, “Then you tell him…if he ever…EVER…comes near me again…I’ll stab his deviant ass in the back. Capiche, whitey?”

The Disciplinarian couldn’t hide a small smirk at Haru’s expence, marvelling lightly at how quickly the boy had bounced back. He leaned against the door jamb and just watched his new ward, “….I’ll make sure to relay it to him.” Well…things just got a lot more interesting and as far as Waif was concerned, the house of Maksim would never ever be the same again.
Deciding that his work here was done for the night, Waif whisked his way out of the room and listened as the heavy oak door closed behind him before he continued at a fast clip down the hall. His mind drifted back to his earlier self ultimatum and he decided that a stiff drink would suffice for the evening. Give the good old Grim Reaper a night off. Despite the growing anxiety that Waif could feel gnawing at the edges of his belly, he knew that this would eventually turn out too interesting for him to pass up. He knew he’d regret it all later with a vengeance, but before the night was over the Disciplinarian had drowned his own apprehensions in a strong glass of the kitchen staff’s homemade liquor and slipped off to bed for a night of dark (thankfully dreamless) sleep.


A/N: *drooling on keyboard* Well I busted my ass to finish this one for you guys, but I just couldn’t procrastinate anymore. I actually had the inspiration today and my obnoxious roommate shut up long enough for me to get some sleep and here is the result of a somewhat stable atmosphere. I know that it seems like Haru got over the idea of being raped really fast, but it’s actually characteristic of him to get over things quickly. I think he’s a virgo. I dunno. Reviews welcome, Flames will be deleted.