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Complete [M] sometimes, the universe works hard to put two souls together & sometimes, it can go fuck itself

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Perhaps that was true. Perhaps the faster one would've been the better choice. But it didn't regret its choice, it didn't regret at all, assuming regret was even an emotion it felt. It was about to yell something in return, and anybody else would've seen the crowbar coming from a mile away, but the creature did not think to jump out of the way, the concept of injury entirely foreign to it. So, it was hit with blunt force, and it staggered to the side, right side of its hip crashing against the closest crate in its trajectory. It toppled over the box, rolling over its lid and then gravity took a hold of it and dragged it down, where it collided with the floor.


Pain crashed into his consciousness. As if his soul had been yanked back into his body. He impacted with the water surface of this ocean of ache, and it nearly drowned him. The scream that broke from his lips was human, it carried suffering instead of murderous intent. His right hand reached to hold his shoulder. He could taste blood. Pain was radiating from his hip and jaw. Jin breathed heavily to get a grip on it. His legs, he pulled closer to his stomach, and he was very sure that there were tears stinging in his eyes. Japanese dripped from his lips, desperately trying to make sense of the situation. The last he-had-no-idea-how-many minutes had been entirely erased from his memory. Or maybe they'd never been 'recorded' in the first place. Gods, his heart hurt as if someone was trying to drill a screw into his skull.
 
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The crowbar collided and Pietro felt a flash of triumph. Take that, both Not-Jin and Jin. The other crashed into some boxes and tumbled out of sight, but Pietro could still hear him on the other side. Only the voice sounded more... human? Pietro frowned and rounded the other side of the crates, bringing the crowbar up to defend himself. "Jin, or... not-Jin, whatever, if you fucking attack me again, I'll knock you out. For good." he warned, making good on his promise by waving the crowbar menacingly at the groaning figure on the ground.
 
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Pietro.
Somewhat craning his neck - though that quickly stopped, because pain shot through his throat and jaw like lightning, causing him to return his head to a more comfortable position - Jin attempted, and failed to establish eye contact. "I didn't attack. The ghost. There was the ghost." Quickly, he scanned what he could see of his surroundings. "Ghost gone? Is it gone?" Maybe that sounded a bit too desperate and frightened, and the hoarseness of his voice didn't help with that. Neither did the utter ache splitting his head in two.

His eyes fell onto the crowbar, maybe not willingly but when it was suddenly waved into his face..? "Did you hit me with that thing?!" Raw confusion and the feeling of betrayal rose into his chest like acid. "Why?!"
 
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Pietro rolled his eyes as the other accused him rightly of hitting him. "Oh, don't be so dramatic. You were screaming 'Die die die!' and I got tired of playing tag. What did you want me to do?" he retorted, retracting the crowbar from in front of the other's face.

"I don't know where the ghost is. It is clearly gone, since you're here. Kind of missed the ghost. Although... you're both the same level of whiny." he said with a shrug, leaning over to over a hand up, although he didn't know what kind of state Jin was in. The other's arm still hung loosely and he looked very battered and banged up.
 
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"I was— what?!" Jin had no recollection of anything Pietro was referencing here; not the die, die, die, not the crowbar hitting, not the game of tag, nor the ghost vanishing. But, if Pietro was anything, then honest. At least about that kind of thing. The kind that involved Jin and something weird, violent or embarrassing happening. He was too much the guy to laugh about anything even remotely awful that Jin was getting himself into, to now lie about it.

For moments too long, Jin stared at the offered hand as if it had been forever since he's seen one himself, but then he did reach for it with his right hand and very carefully dragged himself to his knees and then onto his feet — only to collapse onto the crate he'd tumbled over earlier. "Urgh, my head." It was soft and so untypically honest and vulnerable of him, his voice almost fragile while he sat there, holding his forehead. Not even to mention his left arm that throbbed like crazy. It was too late to keep them in when a first few drops of saltwater rolled down cheeks, but for once he didn't even think of his dignity. His mind too occupied with everything else that was going on.
 
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Pietro waited for Jin to process what he had done, and come to a realization of what had happened since he had taken the back seat. Pietro slung the crowbar over his shoulder to rest it there, while helping the other up. As soon as the other fell forwards to slump against the crate, Pietro let go. "I can only take credit for your jaw. The ghost is to blame for... the... rest." he said, slowing down and eventually stopping once he saw wet drops hit the wood of the crate, soaking into it.

Then Pietro felt a tad awkward. "Wow. I must have knocked some ectoplasm out from your eyes, eh tattoos?" he said, offering a way out without having to admit to any manly tears. The jab wasn't any where close to how aggressive he usually mocked him. He couldn't keep harassing the other while Jin cried. As much as he hated the guy, he wasn't going to kick a man when he was down.
 
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Shame. Fear. The feeling of invasion.
It all rose into his throat like acid, as he sat there, crying, right in front of this guy nearly ten years younger and usually so ready to mock the heck out of him, now having fallen so untypically silent except for the almost gentle jab about ectoplasm. He felt like he'd lost. Like he'd failed to use his magic correctly yet again. Like his mother had been right. And despite knowing that the guilt absolutely didn't lie with him this time, it seemed like the ghost had shaken something loose within the last five minutes, that Jin felt unable to return to its former, much more stable state. He realized belatedly that he was shaking, trying to hold back the ugly sob he could sense rising up his throat. Because he couldn't just start to full-on cry in front of Pietro. He couldn't. Damned be how difficult it was to breathe in and out like a normal person, Jin simply couldn't. He'd rather die. No, seriously.

"I hate ghosts so much,"
he groaned. Silence settled for moments. Jin grasped the zipper handle of his jacket and dragged it down to carefully slip out of the piece of clothing — and no, he wouldn't let Pietro help, even in the unlikely case that he'd offer — and reveal the figure-hugging tank tee, and the left arm that was starting to turn black and blue, especially at the shoulder. He pulled a pained grimace. Fuck, this looked bad. How far away from the next hospital were they? Could Jin even risk getting himself to a hospital? Did he have a choice though? Fuck fuck fuck!

Clearing his throat, he inhaled through his nose, hearing how it sounded slightly blocked now, and wiped at his eyes before meeting Pietro's gaze. "Do you know how to drive?"
 
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He didn't let go of the crowbar as he stood to the side and watched Jin slowly stand up from the crate. As the other slipped off his jacket, Pietro's eyes strayed almost immediately to the gnarly black and blue coloration. It was probably, most definitely, dislocated.

Oh, he hated ghosts. That's why he was crying. Other than that, the other seemed okay. And that's what Pietro was gonna tell himself to avoid having to have any kind of revealing, heart-to-heart with the other.

"One problem with that, tattoos. We can't leave the hangar. I tried." he said, sardonically.
 
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One problem with that.
For a second, Jin thought Pietro was gonna tell him he could not, in fact, drive. Which, all things considered would've been the less frustrating option. But no. No, they were stuck. Together. Inside this entrance hall. With some evil demon ghost trying to kill them. Great. Just amazing. His jaws clenched harshly, Jin's gaze drifted to the mockingly wide open entrance and the nightly dessert lying beyond. "Then we have to do it here." Not a question or as much as a suggestion. The mage walked a few steps to grab the first aid kit, placed it on the crate he's been sat upon a mere minute ago, and then turned to Pietro, his damaged arm between them.

"Would you?" The question had lost its sharpness, replaced by vulnerable tiredness. They could yell at each other again, when this nightmare was over, he thought, but until then, he'd at least reach out to the other and try to actually work together.
 
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Pietro's eyes narrowed slightly as he watched the other's reaction. He didn't seem to enjoy that answer, but the feeling was mutual. We'll just have to do it here. Do what here, was the confused look that Pietro gave in response, head tilting.

The what suddenly clicked in his head, and he understood. Jin wanted him to reset his shoulder. Pietro's jaw clenched this time, and he briefly debated it. "Fine. But this will probably hurt." he said, without much glee. He didn't dislike the idea of causing Jin more pain, but he didn't necessarily like the idea either. For the moment, their animosity had cooled - until either their previous topic of conversation arose, or the ghost arose again.

Pietro stepped up and grabbed the wrist of the injured arm. His face was unreadable, steady and dispassionate. He pulled the other's arm up slowly away from his body, and shook it, like a handshake, several times as he did. At one point, Pietro's eyes slid over to Jin's face to try and read the other's expression. As he lifted the other's arm up past his shoulder, he felt and heard the other's bone pop back into place.

"If ghost comes back, you should tell him to go easy on the arm." he suggested, dropping the other's arm into his lap and stepping away.
 
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PIetro wasn't joking when he said this would hurt - and why would he? - but as tired as Jin was, right now he merely let it happen, jaw clenched and eyes shut, and trying not to cry out as the joint popped back in place with that kind of ugly sound that nobody wanted to hear on themselves. "I will ask him to consider," he mumbled in reply, grateful about even the smallest amount of joking going on right now. But the truth was, that he wouldn't have minded at all, if that spirit thing wouldn't have shown its face ever again; if it was gonna pop up again, Jin wasn't sure he'd be able to handle that. Just as an assumption.

Which, oh well. Too bad, was it.

For a moment, Jin closed his eyes, just taking steady breaths to get a hold of himself again; let Pietro do whatever else he felt like doing, while he took that moment to calm down. But that was a mistake, though one he couldn't have possibly known he could commit.



The next time the man opened his eyes, they were black without any other sign of mundaneness left. It turned its head, and there was something of an ugly, crazed and hungry smile settling on its lips, which parted as if to reveal a set of fangs - there were none. This time, and it had learned fast, the spirit didn't make a sound that would've given it away, and instead, it used the body's innate ability to do magic, to form a ball of smoke and cast it at Pietro's back.
 
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Pietro stepped away from Jin, letting the other collect himself in peace. He thought about maybe going to the kitchen and making himself a sandwich, but his other concern was Manfred. If there was a ghost wandering about, who could inhabit people and Manfred was just sleeping unawares, that would not be good.

Unfortunately, Pietro did not have much time to decide on food or best friend, because something hit him in the back that burned. Staggering forwards a step, he hissed under his breath, turning around to see what it was.

Jin was standing there, but it also wasn't Jin. His eyes weren't just regular black - they were completely black. And the way he was grinning at him told him who ever this was, was definitely not human.

"Oh, good. You're back." Pietro said, his breath hitching slightly as searing pain lanced across his side. He didn't have time to look at it. He was standing. He was alive. And not!Jin was going to wish he wasn't.

There wasn't much warning to what Pietro was about to do, besides the sudden steel that hit his eyes. Pietro rushed forwards, covering a very short amount of distance in a split second, and collided with Jin - shoulder-checking him backwards into boxes and whatever else was behind him.

Pietro didn't stay still long enough to assess the damage. He had already moved off, out of the way, ready to have another go at the other.
 
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The spirit hadn't anticipated the speed of the other, but it also didn't care about the host body whatsoever, because it didn't feel the pain as it crashed into the crate behind itself; it just heard something tear but it was impossible to say if it was clothes or skin getting damaged, and the spirit didn't care which it was. Another ball of smoke flew at the other, when he returned to hip-check him to the ground - or wherever it was Pietro was planning on pinning Jin's body down to stop it from being a weapon the spirit could just use like it wanted.

"I was never gone!!!" it shrieked, it's voice full of madness, still with no regard for Jin's vocal chords, the smoke filling up the space between them.
 
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Jin got up, like Pietro thought he would. And when he did, Pietro was waiting. Almost immediately, in a flash of blue mist and a blur, Pietro rushed Jin again. Only this time, smoke filled his vision and he felt more searing pain cover the front of him. With a painful grunt, he grappled Jin instead, attempting to pull him to the ground, not carrying how hard or fast he did it. There was smoke everywhere. It felt like fire ants as Pietro grabbed for the wrist of the hand that was flinging smoke balls at him. The other hand tried to grab at Jin's throat. If the body ran out of air, the ghost couldn't use it, right? "Idi v zhopu*." He grunted loudly.

*Go to hell.
 
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A spirit that had never tasted mortality, was not going to realize its host was dying, when some was choking them. Confusion flickered across its abyss-black eyes when Pietro came closer, instead of, you know, running away, and it all but laughed when the mortal wrapped his hand around its throat, because that meant close physical contact and that meant—

It didn't laugh long.

It had wrapped Jin's hands around Pietro's wrists, heat radiating into the fabric of the guy's jacket where it covered skin - where it didn't, the magic would start forming black bruises of not just burnt but already petrified skin - and smoke was rising from his fingertips, when the body suddenly started to protest against any movement the spirit was forcing it to do. The chest area especially was crying for attention, and it barely managed to croak a frustrated "NO! 死ね!" before the critical state of the body gave Jin another shot at the controls.



The magic immediately stopped pouring out of Jin's fingertips as he started gasping for air. Eyes looking as normal as could be, though widened in fear now, he tried: "Let- Let go, Pietro! Pietro !" - his words hoarse and without any power. Normally he'd have been able to physically stop anyone from choking him, but the possession and the the suddenness of it all, made that impossible.



死ね [shi-ne] — Die!
 
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Pietro could feel a lot of pain. He gritted his teeth so hard, his jaw hurt, but the harder he clenched his jaw, the harder he could feel himself tightening his fingers around the other's neck. At this point, it was him or Jin, and even though the plan was to just make Jin lose consciousness, the pain that was wracking Pietro's body told him to end it at whatever cost.

It took Pietro a second to realize the smoke had disappeared because the pain still lingered. But he heard Jin trying to speak, only didn't didn't sound otherworldly and vengeful. It sounded weak and tired. And he looked... normal. Just like he was being choked to death. Which he was.

Pietro let go, pushing away from the other and rolling off to the side. Pietro's shoulders shook, and he curled his arms close to his body. He managed to use his elbows to push himself up onto his knees, although he stayed hunched over. If the ghost suddenly came back, it'd be very easy to get the upper hand on him.
 
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Air came rushing back into lungs, making Jin cough harshly and desperately gasp for it, trying to inhale as much oxygen as was humanly possible. For moments that was all he could do, waiting for his racing heart to calm back down as no danger was imminent any longer. He too sank to the floor, one hand stemmed against the dirty ground, while his other tried to invoke comfort by reaching out to and pressing against his collarbone.

One thing became very clear: They had to get this ghost out of him, or else one of them would die before the night was over. No hyperbole. "ごめん. I did not mean to—" As if anything he could've said would've made this better in any way. "Are you okay?" he instead sent through the room to where Pietro was very clearly not being okay. "You should have knocked me out. Hard." An attempt at humour? At giving Pietro something to yell about so he could let out all that anger? Maybe. But as he sat there, watching the other suffer in silence, Jin knew that he meant it. Because something made him care about this man who seemed to hate him abnormally, and it wasn't just his libido.

He tried his hardest not to let memories and invasive thoughts take over; the idea was cursing through his head that all of this just proved how much of a monster he was, how dangerous he was and how maybe, perhaps, he was better off dead - still yet he knew that couldn't be true, not entirely at least. Which references he had to say that, Jin didn't know, but something in his head whispered he really wasn't the monster everyone made him out to be, and this whole situation was entirely out of his hands, so, really.



ごめん [go-men] — I'm sorry
 
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Pietro's sides hurt, but his arms hurt the worst. The skin from his wrists to his forearm was blackened, his fingers curled in on themselves, paralyzed from the pain. Pietro was breathing heavily, trying to process what the fuck had happened to him. He heard Jin from behind, and immediately tried to stop breathing less. Hiding the pain was preferable to letting the other see it, even if it was obvious visually. Gathering the composure he could, he turned his head towards where Jin was, but didn't look at him. "Oh yeah. Just fine. I should have knocked you out the first time." he snapped, pulling himself up onto his feet.

"That ghost... or whatever the fuck it is, is still inside of you. Get it out, or the next time, if it's between me or you, it's going to be you." he said, sourly.
 
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It's gonna be you.
Jin was more than aware of what that was supposed to mean. Of what Pietro was implying. Not that he could blame him. How in the world was he supposed to blame the guy who was trying not to hurt Jin too much while he was under, no matter whether Jin had just hurt him, and badly. The bone-deep self-hatred, having trickled into his blood stream over the years and full-on poisoned his lungs by now, felt worse, felt deeper than the sheer horror at the fact that there was a ghost or a spirit or maybe a demon possessing him, which was about the worst fear Jin had. Ghosts had always been part of his nightmares, and he'd never been sure to which amount they were real — but that all paled against the feeling of being a monster, of having hurt someone he cared for. Though certainly the fear of ghosts didn't help at all.

Swallowing bitterly, helplessly, he rose to his feet and approached with light steps. Hesitantly. Dark, near-black eyes trained on the other, seeing every strain, every bit of pain that was pushed back down, jaw tight, fingers shaking whenever Pietro didn't manage to contain it. "はい。May I?" He wasn't gonna be upset about Pietro's anger, his hurt. But he could at least try to help with the pain, right? He'd only tried this successfully once or twice, and it always took the most out of him, but hell did he care at the moment. "I can..take it back. The death. Your skin has to recover on its own, but I can help." Likely the last thing Pietro possibly could've been okay with, but Jin had to at least offer.


はい。[hai] — yeah / yes / I know
 
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Pietro could hear Wanda, even if he didn't want to, in the back of his mind - warning him of his actions and nagging him for what he should have done differently. He blocked it out, that product of his subconsciousness. Pietro's eyes slid up, mistrusting, at the other. His facial expression was set firm, even if his fingers shook, the rest of him did not. Occasionally, his breath hitched, but otherwise he kept it all in.

"Fine." was all his said. He tone was clipped and short. The less he said, the less obvious he felt it would be. Whether that was the truth or not, he didn't have to think about.
 
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