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2016-11-28
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Night is a time of rigor, but also of mercy

Summary:

Through less than conventional means, Dr. Angela Ziegler taught Genji to love his new body, and the younger Shimada can't wait to share the doctor's teachings with Hanzo.

(Please heed the tags/warnings!! Feat. sort of yandere!Genji, evil!Mercy, and poor self-loathing Hanzo who's caught in the middle of their fucked up shit.)

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

“The healthy man does not torture others - generally it is the tortured who turn into torturers."
Carl Jung (1875 - 1961)

 

A fall from that height should have killed him; left him little more than a smear on the pavement below.

And that was what Hanzo felt like, to be fair; his body screamed in protest as he tried to stay as still as possible. The world felt eerily silent, though he knew it was because he was in shock and his ears were ringing; if he could muster up enough strength to scream, maybe someone would hear him, come to his aid...

Or, perhaps, to put him out of his misery.

All the sound he could make was wet little whimpering, refusing to close his eyes though he couldn't see through the red haze. Someone would notice, eventually-- but as Hanzo was usually out of the way anyway, by the time they did, he might be dead. Or maybe not-- what if it just felt worse than it truly was?

... Were those footsteps? He wasn't registering sounds properly, and he couldn't focus enough to see-- but he sensed it, who it was. Genji, his lips formed, silently; Genji, I'm over here--

Hanzo had been shot off the roof, lying like a crumpled toy on the concrete below. His prosthesis were twisted and broken, blood seeping through his hair, chest rising and falling rapidly. His robe was soaked as well, wounded abdomen yet to be noticed; a pitiful sight, and not one he had been in in... decades, not since he'd been tortured by a rival Yakuza clan, on the very day his legs had been take from him in the first place.

As for the younger Shimada, Genji hadn't expected to find Hanzo there, staring up into the starry night as if seeing it for the first time. He must have fallen from the nearby rooftop, out of the way of prying eyes and intervening medics-- Genji recalled a similar incident of his own years ago, back when he'd been much more careless in regards to his own safety. Dr. Ziegler had been there for him, then, her lips as soft as satin against his cheek, fingers resting almost tenderly against his dislocated jaw as she'd chastised him for being so clumsy. She'd used that extraordinary staff of hers to put him to rights almost immediately, seeing as how they'd been in the middle of a firefight at the time, but--

A shiver made its way through Genji's cybernetic body as he recalled the delicious punishment Angela had extracted upon him when they'd returned to her laboratory.

Would she do the same to Hanzo, he wondered, once the battle was over? Genji hoped so; Hanzo was so miserable all the time, like Genji had been, before Dr. Ziegler had... fixed him, with her very unique brand of 'therapy'.

Maybe, just maybe, she could fix him, too, and then the Shimada brothers could be reunited once more. 

"Brother?" Genji stepped over one of Hanzo's legs, the one that had been torn from his elder brother's body after the fall, while the other lay, loosely connected but grotesquely twisted-- slowly coming to stand over Hanzo's bloodied body. "It's alright, Hanzo; I'm here for you, now."

Hanzo could hear Genji's voice, soft and very far away, muffled like he was in a different room. The archer struggled to swallow, to reply, but the blood he forced painfully down his throat was quickly replaced by more. Seeing Genji standing above him like that made his erratic heart pound faster, unwillingly remembering the situation reversed; him standing over the trembling broken body of his brother, and leaving him there.

A spasm went through Hanzo's body like he'd been electrocuted. "Ge....nji..." he finally managed to say, as Genji finally knelt. Genji would not leave him here to die, of this he was absolutely certain; his brother was a far better person than he. Hanzo's long, bloodied hair was spread out like a gory halo around his head, lips parted with each heaved breath.

"You're hurt," Genji stated plainly, despite the fact that 'hurt' was a cruel understatement for the level of damage the fall had done to Hanzo's body. "Angela-- Dr. Ziegler, I mean, isn't too far away. Just keep breathing, brother; you'll be fine."

There was a certain peculiarity to Genji's voice that Hanzo was wholly unfamiliar with-- since their reintroduction to one another in Hanamura before the events that would eventually lead Hanzo to siding with Overwatch, the elder Shimada had found Genji to be much gentler, more at peace with himself than he ever had been before. A combination of the efforts of the Omnic monks and his comrades in Overwatch, clearly, but-- now, in this moment, there was a certain oddness in Genji's mannerisms, his tone, that Hanzo hadn't seen in his brother either before-- or after-- Genji's... death.

"Angela? ... No, it isn't me-- I'm fine, I promise. Hanzo is injured, though." Genji paced back and forth 'round Hanzo, carefully overstepping his brother's strewn limbs as if he was little more than litter on a sidewalk. "... A fall. Two stories, I think. ... His neck isn't, but I think his spine may be. And one of his legs has come off." The cyborg answered the doctor's questions via headset without a hint of panic in his voice, eventually returning to Hanzo's blurred light of sight and crouching down next to him. "Of course, doctor. I will make certain he stays conscious until you arrive."

Strangely, the calm tone of Genji's voice didn't bother him; rather, it seemed to give Hanzo himself a measure of peace, knowing at least one of them wasn't panicked. Dark brown eyes tried to focus on his face-plate as he knelt, hovering over him; though he didn't trust Overwatch as far as he could throw even Torbjörn, he knew, had seen first hand, how much of a miracle worker Angela Ziegler was.

Hanzo felt he should say something, but nothing came to mind, and besides, speaking felt like he was being stabbed repeatedly in the ribs. His mouth moved silently almost of its own accord, forming Genji's name again.

Genji knelt by Hanzo's side, reaching forward to gingerly brush a lock of unkempt hair out of his brother's eyes. "She'll be here very soon," and until then, he'd keep his near-mortally wounded brother company. "You've never been treated by Dr. Ziegler, have you? You keep stubbornly refusing her exams." Hanzo had always been stubborn about that sort of thing, avoiding yearly check-ups even from the Shimada clan's overly-qualified physicians. Even after the brutal abduction that had led to the loss of his legs, Hanzo seemed to simply loathe doctors, and Genji couldn't help but wonder if that didn't have something to do with the fact that he'd suffered forced amputations at the hands of a rival clan's doctors.

Perhaps his clearest memories of that sterile environment, of the touch of latex-clan hands were of that day, when he'd been rendered permanently disfigured; perhaps, after suffering such a traumatizing event at a young age, it would be impossible for Hanzo to ever truly trust a medical practitioner again.

"She does perform miracles, you know. You shouldn't distrust her so much." Genji continued combing his fingers through Hanzo's disheveled hair, pulling the tangles loose despite Hanzo's insistent whimpers. "Look at what she's done for me, after all.

Stop that, Hanzo wanted to say; every gentle touch sent white-hot fire through his scalp, tore another ragged sound from his throat. "Gen... ji, that... hurts," he managed to rasp, as his brother's fingers unraveled another mat of bloody hair. He seemed so far away, wistful as he spoke of Dr. Ziegler; he wondered how much like this Genji had looked. It had been worse, hadn't it? That was why Genji needed such extensive treatment; because Hanzo had torn him to shreds and left him to die.

He whimpered again, eyes fluttering shut against the guilty intrusive memory. "Genji," he murmured, one hand shaking as he struggled to lift it, to touch the smooth metal and synthetic flesh that covered what was left of his brother's body. "I'm..."

"I know, brother," Genji murmured, his voice soothing, almost uncharacteristically gentle in the early-evening breeze. "It'll get better soon, I promise." As he spoke, Genji snatched up Hanzo's trembling hand, pressing his face-plate against his brother's twisted fingers in a macabre reenactment of a kiss. "The pain will be much better, soon."

There was something... wrong with Genji, with his behavior, Hanzo could see that now, as his own pain-haze was dulling, shock and adrenaline both fighting to keep him conscious and aware. It wasn't as if he was being hurtful, or cruel in any way, but-- this was not the little brother Hanzo had known, neither decades ago, nor within the past few months.

Hanzo hissed involuntarily in pain as Genji thoughtlessly moved him, a low whine following as he shifted to loom over him. I'll make sure he stays conscious, Genji had said; what, exactly, did that mean?

(Angela was the one who refined the gift of pain, but the agony had been given by Hanzo first, and giving it back-- well, it had been euphoric, and didn't he deserve that--?)

Without further pause, Genji rearranged himself, shifting from his kneeling position by Hanzo's side to kneeling atop him, instead, curvaceous hips now settled in Hanzo's lap. "Is this how I looked to you, I wonder?" Genji was musing aloud, squirming as he searched for a comfortable position even as the other man's battered pelvis screamed in protest to the unwarranted attention. "When I was broken apart before your very eyes. Did I look this beautiful, that day? You never said."

Hanzo would have screamed, then, had he the energy-- which really only meant that he wasn't in enough pain yet. His hips burned in agony, to the bone, as Genji settled his full weight atop them. The wretched sound he made instead was a ragged wailing sob, shock written on his face. What are you talking about? he tried to demand, but his mouth wouldn't obey him.

Beautiful? How could Genji think this was anything but horrible? How could he think any memory Hanzo had of that day was anything except blinding, crushing guilt? "I... what are... Genji, get off of me--"

"... What's wrong?" Genji seemed legitimately perplexed by Hanzo's reaction to the impromptu closeness, as if sitting atop your mortally wounded brother while he was on the border of bleeding out was nothing less than perfectly normal. "I want to help, Hanzo. I want to make you feel so much better."

The valves on Genji's cybernetic body released built-up steam as Genji removed his helmet, partially-shaved head of dyed-green hair blowing in the seaside breeze. In the dim lighting of the buildings around them, the scars on Genji's face-- combined with the smile currently plastered on his face-- made him appear positively demonic, a reaper come to collect Hanzo's soul long before it left his body. "I want you to feel it, Hanzo-- the same ecstasy you gave to me--"

"E... ecstasy--?" Hanzo panted out, frazzled mind reeling from what he was hearing; there was no way Genji meant any of what he said, in no universe could he mean what it sounded like. "I did no such thing; I hurt you, Genji, what--"

His brother moved, leaned forward a little, still smiling-- was this Genji at all, or a demon sent to finally retrieve him to whatever punishment awaited--, a hand pressed intimately atop his ribs, making Hanzo choke on the sudden pain.

As blood bubbled into Hanzo's mouth due to the pressure of Genji's touch, a thin stream of black-red cascading down the side of the older Shimada's face, Genji locked their lips together, as obscene and intimate a kiss as they'd ever shared.

Only, this time, it was a kiss tinged with blood.

Genji's tongue delved into the warmth of his brother's mouth, lapping at the blood as if it was some delectable treat, and not disgusting, coppery, something Hanzo felt halfway-prepared to gag on, despite it being his own. Hands found their way into Hanzo's disheveled clothes as Genji pulled away from the kiss, his own lips blood-stained, that devilish smile painted black in the shadows of the buildings surrounding them. "Ecstasy, brother. Not hurt. Angela-- it was Dr. Ziegler, she taught me-- she showed me the truth, just like she'll show it to you--"

What had she taught him-- to see pain as pleasure, warping his memory of when he'd nearly died into, as he said, an ecstatic experience instead? Or had Genji felt it that way all along?

Hanzo's body shook under his brother's hands, chest heaving with every labored breath; the vampiric sight of Genji with Hanzo's blood on his mouth made the archer's head swim. Genji's fingers trailed over bruising skin, dragging more sounds of pain from his brother. He had said she was coming, Dr. Ziegler, hadn't he? Hanzo felt dizzy even lying here, the idea that she was not coming to fix him making him nauseous. "I don't... want..."

She was coming, and she would share with him her incredible gift, just like she had with Genji, when she'd first gotten her hands on the battered and broken boy.

She'd told Genji before that she wanted Hanzo, wanted him as one of her 'playthings', her experiments-- and they'd shared intimate talks of this before, of what it might be like for Genji to tear Hanzo down from his perch on high, to so lovingly drag him to death's door, as Hanzo had done to him.

"I know you don't want to die, Hanzo," Genji's cool fingers encircles Hanzo's impressive pecs, leaning forward until his blood-stained mouth was hovering just above Hanzo's once again. "You won't die. I won't let you."

That wasn't what Hanzo was going to say-- he hadn't even thought of that, and honestly sometimes death seemed like a preferable alternative-- but he couldn't reply because Genji's tongue was in his mouth again, keeping him from breathing momentarily. He whined deep in his throat as Genji stroked his hands over his chest, palms against his nipples, pressing hard and rough. Genji knew every weak spot, and went for the worst one first-- of course he did-- and all Hanzo could do in response was tremble and choke into his little brother's cruel mouth.

Genji swallowed down every single one of Hanzo's noises as if they were an elixir, whether they be responses to the pain, or the pleasure. The dual sensations were beginning to intertwine, if Hanzo allowed himself absolute honesty, Genji's hands toying with his sensitive nipples while simultaneously grinding his hips down into Hanzo's displaced pelvis.

"You're so beautiful, anija," Genji sounded positively drunk on this, on the coppery taste of Hanzo's blood in his mouth, on the sounds Hanzo couldn't keep himself from making as Genji continued ripping hungrily into his clothing. "I want you so much; I've wanted to share this with you for so long--"

While Genji sounded intoxicated, it was Hanzo who looked it; ashen from blood loss despite the flush in his cheeks, red-smeared lips parted and panting, eyes glassy and unfocused. Genji was cantering on his dislocated hips like he was riding him already, and the repeated grinding motion made Hanzo sob aloud.

He was going to kill him, despite what he said, possibly by accident. Hanzo heard himself speaking, little pathetic pleas of 'please, ototo, Genji, please stop,' things he would be ashamed of saying under lucid circumstance. Hanzo didn't beg; hadn't even begged as a young man, barely a man, when they had smashed the bones in his legs so thoroughly they were unrecognizable.

Yet he begged now, under the sadistic ministrations of his beloved little brother; Genji, why; "Please--!"

A soft 'click' and another release of steam informed Hanzo that the plating which covered Genji's genitals had tucked itself away, the sudden warmth of a synthetic cunt coming into contact with the hard muscle of Hanzo's stomach as Genji settled himself back down.

Gods, he was soaked, dripping neon-green onto Hanzo's half-removed clothing and already-bruising skin alike, the younger Shimada's hands tugging eagerly at his brother's undergarments in an attempt to free his cock. "But it feels good, Hanzo," Genji encouraged, tongue practically lolling excitedly out of his mouth at the first sensation of Hanzo's half-hard dick against his palm. "See; see, you're already enjoying it; you can't fool me, Hanzo."

Honestly, Hanzo wondered, dimly, how could he possibly get hard? How did he have enough blood to spare? Genji's touch there, at least, was familiarly gentle, unlike the hot sliding rut against his pelvis. Every time he made a sound of pain it only seemed to excite Genji more, squeezing his thighs around his brother's agonized sides.

Hanzo felt like he was going to faint, and if not from shock, then from over-stimulation. He shivered and twitched under Genji as his cock was stroked, eyes rolling back in his head, fingers weakly clenching against the bloodied concrete.

Without warning, Genji slid the tip of Hanzo's cock between his labia, the soft silicone lips enveloping the head as Genji's cunt nearly swallowed it by accident. He was dripping, bright green juices mixing with the blackish blood Hanzo was largely coated in; was still spilling out onto the streets with every passing second. "I need it, brother," Genji moaned, grinding his cunt back and forth atop Hanzo's hardening dick, both men becoming so slippery from Genji's toying that it was difficult to keep Hanzo out, Genji's body so clearly desperate to take him into itself. "It's been torment, keeping all of this from you-- I wanted to share what I've learned from Dr. Ziegler with you; it's sheer bliss, brother--"

Genji leaned backwards while he babbled, on and on, about Angela's teachings, one hand coming to rest in the mess that currently was one of Hanzo's legs-- exploratory fingers delving between the joint that was meant to hold flesh and prosthetic together.

Whatever edge of the pain Genji's grinding had taken off was suddenly back a hundredfold, Hanzo's back arcing off the ground as a scream was wrenched from his raw throat. He tried in vain to yank his twisted leg away from Genji's curious, roaming, merciless fingers, bringing a fist down on his brother's knee as if to dislodge him; the movements and thrashing only ended up putting him closer to Genji.

The younger Shimada made a soothing sound even as he tortured the wound in Hanzo's knee, though it was quickly cut off by a moan when Hanzo's cock slid inside him. Hanzo's vision swam again, near to blacking out, if not for the agonizing thrust of Genji's touch, stroking over tendons and muscle and the edge of broken bone. He sobbed, a huge, wretched shudder going through his body.

The overwhelming sensation of pleasure-pain rushing through Hanzo's body held him on the precipice of consciousness and delusion, his cock enveloped in the synthetic warmth of Genji's body as Genji penetrated him, in turn, fingers now buried knuckle-deep in Hanzo's torn flesh. The cyborg's spine was twisted near unnaturally, one foot planted between Hanzo's pecs as he squirmed to and fro, his loose, shiny-wet cunt shamelessly visible as he continued searching for just the right position to both fuck and be fucked.

"Oh, oh, Hanzo," with a sickening squelch, Genji's fingers slipped more deeply into Hanzo's leg, the cyborg more or less fingering the elder's wound as he ground his hips delightedly. "You're so warm, so hot; it feels so good, to finally be with you again--!" 

Hanzo couldn't find the strength to scream again, despite the white-hot agony Genji's touch was inducing in him; through the haze, he dimly remembered the latex-covered hands of the rival clan's doctors, the way they had yanked and prodded and twisted his legs until he couldn't breathe any more.

The archer did black out then, briefly, eyes rolling back in his head as only a few seconds of relief were granted to him.

Hanzo became dimly aware that he must have passed out for much, much longer than he'd thought-- the cool evening air and stars in the sky had been replaced by the unpleasantly sterile scent of a hospital room, while the agonizing cement beneath him had been traded for starchy white sheets and a firm mattress. The torturous pressure of Genji atop his hips was gone; the torturous feeling of Genji's fingers penetrating his flesh was gone, most importantly, and Hanzo was left to wonder what, exactly, had just happened.

Did that really happen? Had he hallucinated the whole ordeal-- was Genji truly capable of committing such a sadistic act against the brother he claimed to have forgiven? Had he-- actually ridden Hanzo into unconsciousness in that alleyway, while Hanzo lay broken, bleeding out, sobbing, begging him to stop? Did Genji--

"Hanzo?"

The cool voice of Angela Ziegler broke through Hanzo's blurred thoughts, her hair in a loose ponytail, clipboard in hand. She looked concerned, as she often did, attention immediately turning to the monitors Hanzo was hooked up to. "How are you feeling? You've been asleep for quite some time."

"I'm... fine, doctor, thank you," Hanzo slurred his vague appreciation for whatever Dr. Ziegler had done to put him back together after his accident, promptly attempting to reach up and push a lock of hair out of his eyes so that he could see the woman more clearly-- 

Then, suddenly, realizing that he couldn't; his hands simply would not react.

"Welcome home, anija," Genji's voice came from the doorway, a smirk audible in his words as Dr. Ziegler giggled, the dawning horror on Hanzo's bruised face enticing amusement in both doctor and pet, alike. "How do you like the changes Angela has made so far? I figured that they were the simplest thing for her to begin with, after you'd already done so much damage to them in that fall."

... His arms.

Of course she-- they had chosen to begin there, where Hanzo's last remaining strength lay:

Dr. Ziegler had amputated his arms.

[FIN]

Notes:

this is a pseudo-sequel to gets rid of the pain of being a man's gency drabble, so head on over there if you wanna check out some more creepy mercy content. I'M SORRY THIS IS SO NASTY & YES, I AM OBSESSED WITH FALL DAMAGE.

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