(it’s been a rough week, lads - so the obvious solution is to write horrible things happening to percy, right…? one day, i will stop being so in love with the idea of ripley ruining percy’s life even after dying, but. today is not that day. written for the prompt “sabotage” on the hdmof discord.)
cw for mentions of past torture, general ripley things
He should have known, even in death, she’d find a way to hurt him.
The first time Animus misfires, it’s… unpleasant. He’s used to the scorched fingertips, the painful jolt up his arm, the too-hot metal and grinding noise and frantic panic mid-battle that he’s weaponless and defenceless – but this is more than that. This is a flash of fear, crawling up the back of his brain, animal-sharp and dragging with it a wave of memories he’s spent a long, long time pressing down into the dark.
He swallows, un-jams the guns, and presses them down again. Back where they came from, back into the pits of his mind, back where he’ll hopefully never have to see them again. He doesn’t want to think about them again, doesn’t want to think about her again, not ever – but especially not now, with a dragon bearing down on him and his friends bleeding into the snow around him.
Animus doesn’t stop misfiring, though. It’s not often, not even semi-regularly, but… it happens, every once in a while, the familiar heat-jolt, and the memories. Every time, they come back a little easier, a little sharper. His own screams crystal-clear in his ears. The blood and pain and fear like a knife to the gut.
Every time, they’re a little harder to press down. A little harder to send back to the dark.