Fire, Part VII- The Spreading

Rupert Rodut is not so easily beaten. He lost composure in that court room, of course. But Rupert Rodut does not make the same mistake twice. He does not underestimate a person twice- he never has, and now he isn’t going to start with the good detective Rikes, is he?

He’s been moved to a different box. This box feels more permanent and they’ve given him the orange jumpsuit that probably houses more inmates than the entirety of the prison, if the constant scratching of his skin is anything to go with.

This box is just as arrogant in thinking it can contain him, of course. Honestly, what does it think it’s doing? If Rupert were meant to be contained by a box he’d have been born a delicate flower like Kingstone.


Oh, how he hates her now. This is all her fault. He sired the brat with her and then the thing turns against him- that microbe wants to face off against daddy, eh? Well, Rupert isn’t going to let this go so lightly. Sure, the mite had to be knocked around a bit before, but now…

Rupert Rodut has never pitied his son, and he never will.

The prisoners seem to be confused. They think Rupert is locked in the prison with them. After his first forced shower the man who dared to touch him serves as evidence- these prisoners are locked in with Rupert. And Rupert will stand for none of their nonsense. He has more important things to think about.

Rupert Rodut has places to go.

Rupert Rodut has people to see.



He knows he’s been in the papers. He can see it in the eyes of the pitiful officer who has to come when he demands phone calls or complains about his headaches. A mind like Ruperts doesn’t just stop, simply because he’s been put in a box like Shrodingers cat. Only it can be said without a doubt that Rupert exists. And when he gets out, he is going to do so much more damage than a mere electron ever could.


It’s his son, after all. And his world.



Movement isn’t going to be any of the things a more normal person would crave- easy, fast, or fun. Luckily, Rupert surpassed the normality stage of his development the second he escaped the womb.

Truly, this is no different. The food was better in the womb and he could actually hear himself think there- it was quieter and he had more help on the other side, but really his contacts can hear him from miles away when he calls them. He’s tried to shut this part of his life away, tried to at least pretend to have gotten used to the domesticity. But truth be told, he’s missed the excitement of his old world. He’s missed the rush and the stickiness of the blood between his fingers and the chill- the smell of fear and horror in the air.

He can’t wait to show Lewis how beautiful the world can truly be.



Why did he get together with Kingstone in the first place? He reflects silently because there’s little else to do in his box and if he doesn’t think of something else, now that everything is sorted, he’ll be too flawless in his execution and the whole plan will go awry.

Ah yes, Kingstone. She was a good fuck- a bit like the whores of his old life, but classier. Much classier. And more natural than them as well- she was all flesh with none of the disgusting silicone to hide what she really was. No, she wasn’t like him. She never wore her scars on the outside- she always hid them like the scared little idiot she was. That was the largest failing of the woman, he supposes, smirking slightly and closing his eyes.

But what a good fuck. She knew things. In the beginning he’d thought she’d been practicing with both of the detectives at once- obviously not, he’d very quickly realised when he’d properly inspected the men. Where she’d learned her certain set of skills was a mystery that would never be solved. Not that Rupert cared.

Her mind was truly the lock that he’d enjoyed picking, unpicking, locking again, and playing with. Until that night. But- NO.

Rupert Rodut isn’t the one who has regrets about doling out what people deserve. He never has, and he never will.
He doesn’t miss her- he misses the pieces of her- the soft swell of her- the damp and the firm, and the despereate pants of the midnight brawls, both in and out of the bedroom.


That day, he grins a bit too much; he can tell it unnerves the ‘guards’- but honestly, he couldn’t give a single flying fuck. Unnerving them, making them suspicious- that won’t hurt his plan. At this stage, very little can do that.

Einstein once said, ‘Only two things are infinite- the universe and human stupidity. And I’m not sure about the universe.’ Rupert smirks just a little bit harder upon remembering that quote. Only his own stupidity can possibly fuck up his plan now.

And if there is one thing Rupert Rodut is not, Rupert Rodut is not stupid.


On the day, he’s actually up bright and early. He only beats a little bit of the shit out of an inmate in the shower who tries to slap his ass. And while the food still has all the redeeming qualities of boiled shit, Rupert stares directly at his guard as he eats it all, ignoring everything but what is about to happen.

If there is one thing Rupert Rodut does not do…

Rupert Rodut does not fail.


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