Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > A Little Less 16 Candles... continued...
Behind the curtains, the glass had been painted black with several coats. No light would get through these windows. As much as he kept his slaves and vampires under control, he was unwilling to take chances that might compromise his position as Master, nor threaten his life. A vampire for over one hundred and fifty years, he was endowed with powers the younger ones couldn’t even begin to imagine. The only one that even came close to having the power to overthrow him was Brendon. A vampire for the relatively short time of fifty-two years, Brendon was strong and quick-witted but Beckett knew how to handle him; when to be firm, when to give in and when to punish. The younger vampire had seen his share of punishment since Beckett turned him, but equally, he had enjoyed more than his fair share of pleasure. Brendon had been Beckett’s favourite from the beginning and he basked arrogantly in the glorious glow of his Master’s approval. Other vampires had opposed him and paid the price for it. He had long since decided that it was more than worth the punishment that Beckett handed out for the brash, and surprisingly frequent, slaughter of pretenders to his prince’s crown. He knew that, regardless of what he had done, Beckett would forgive him. His relationship with his master was frequently cruel and sadistic, but they both knew they enjoyed the game.
Beckett leaned back in his high-backed antique leather chair. Almost everything in the room was an antique, from the desk he sat behind to the Chinese wallpaper, to the bookcases and their contents. Modern touches, such as lighting and soft furnishings, favoured a late nineteenth century style. The only thing that appeared truly out of place in the Victorian-style office was the laptop computer opened on the desk.
In life, William Beckett, had been a man of simple pleasures and elegant taste. He had been intelligent and resourceful, with a flair for business. All of this had carried through with him when he had been turned and although he preferred an older style as he looked around the mansion, he was a firm believer in making the best use of modern technology. Over the years, he had seen older vampires founder, confused and bewildered by the rush of technological advances, but he had been there at the start of the Industrial Revolution. He had witnessed for himself the very beginnings of advances in science and architecture. He had seen swift advancement, the greatness and power that it brought. And he wanted it. His mind made up, he would learn, he would use, he would control. That said, his natural aesthetic taste dictated that a laptop was the perfect solution to his needs. An indispensible tool that when not in use, could be hidden from view and would no longer spoil the classic lines of each carefully chosen piece of furniture.
“Enter,” he said brusquely as he closed the laptop and slid it into the top draw of the desk. Beyond the door, Brendon Urie stood with his arm raised, ready to knock. Beckett frequently knew when he was near; it was a technique he had developed to ensure that none of his vampires would be able to catch him unawares.
Looking up, Beckett offered an approving smile. Before him, Brendon stood in the centre of the room waiting to be called forward. Wearing a crisp cotton shirt, close-fitting dark pinstripe suit, cravat and highly-polished black shoes, Brendon knew he looked good.
Beckett motioned for him to approach, admiring him as he did. Beckett’s Coven was generally regarded as flamboyant and decadent. He personally had no problem with this. He saw it as a vampire’s duty to be beautiful. Beautiful, mysterious and deadly. The members of his Coven were chosen carefully. So carefully that when one managed to break from his control, it angered him greatly.
Brendon would be the last to acknowledge that Beckett controlled him, but he did. Brendon called him Master and whilst he had certain freedoms, he was always accountable and subservient to the Coven’s leader.
“Master William,” Brendon bowed his head reverently.
At every meeting, Beckett insisted that all his vampires, even Brendon, call him Master. With his favourite, it was only the initial greeting. From then, the meeting would usually proceed on an informal basis, but Beckett liked the stamp of authority. He liked to remind his subordinates exactly who was in charge.
“Brendon,” his smooth, velvety voice began, “please, sit down.”
Unbuttoning his jacket, Brendon took a seat at the desk.
“You know, of course that we have Peter back under our control.”
Brendon pouted. “I wouldn’t say under control, but he’s here, yes.”
Beckett narrowed his eyes. “Yes, he’s here. And under control in the sense that he’s chained up in the dungeon.”
“Where he should have been from the start!” Brendon snapped.
“Are you questioning me, Brendon?” Beckett asked sourly.
Rising from the chair, Brendon turned away, taking a few angry paces before spinning on his heels to stare at his master.
“He disobeyed you and you allowed it!” Brendon snapped. “Are you surprised that he turned on you and rejoined his damn hunter friends?”
He didn’t see it, barely felt it, but Brendon knew he’d gone too far when he found himself on all fours, crouched on the floor, nursing his bleeding bottom lip. Beckett was too fast even to be seen by another vampire.
“Master William!” he begged, trying to ingratiate himself and recreate Beckett’s easy temperament that he felt on his arrival.
“Don’t get me wrong, Brendon,” Beckett snarled as his favourite pushed himself to his feet once more. “You are my second, but you will not touch Peter, or question me over my treatment of him.”
“You… you care about this rogue vampire?” Brendon stammered. “He’s nothing! He’s less than nothing! What about…”
“What about you?” Beckett snapped, rising from behind the desk once more and taunting him. “Do you fear for your position, Brendon?”
Standing to meet his master’s gaze, Brendon frowned.
“Do I need to?” he asked curtly.
“I know you receive many challenges to your elevated role in my affections and I know what you do to deal with it. And then, when the challenger is dead, I punish then forgive you. Such a merry dance! But mark my words, Brendon, if you do anything like that with him, before I’m ready, your punishment will be severe and forgiveness will not be forthcoming. Your new rank will be lower than that of slave and I will take great pleasure in letting my slaves exact their own punishment on you each and every day!”
“William… how can you…” Brendon began, at first shock winning out over anger.
“I want him unharmed, Brendon. Do you understand me? Completely unharmed.”
Brendon stared down at his feet. He was angry, jealous, envious, furious! He had already suffered and this was not the time to argue more; Beckett’s mind was made. He had tried on a number of occasions to trap Pete. This was the first time he had been successful. If Brendon had given it enough thought, he would have known that this situation was… no, that Pete was special. It was how special that angered him.
“You want me to stay away?” Brendon shrugged, pretending to be unmoved. “I can do that,” he added with another feigned indifferent shrug.
Beckett grinned at Brendon’s suffering. He knew that, at the very least, Brendon wanted to torment his, as he saw it, rival for Beckett’s affections.
“Do what you will, but don’t kill him. Not unless you truly want to feel my anger.”
“And his friends?” Brendon asked, more out of curiosity than interest.
“For now,” Beckett shrugged, “I want to keep them alive. Peter seems to care if they live or die; we can use that. Keep them alive and mostly conscious, but what you do otherwise is your own affair.” Beckett raised a warning finger. “I just don’t want to hear that you went too far. Remember, they’re only mortals; they break easily.”
Brendon laughed cruelly at the idea of tormenting Wentz with tales of the torture of his friends.
“I can be surprisingly gentle,” Brendon smiled sweetly. “Shame they won’t see that side of me!”
Beckett smiled at the cruelness, if overzealousness, of his prodigy. “Alive, Brendon, remember. I don’t make idle threats.”
Brendon nodded. He had to physically restrain himself severely with Wentz, but could at least torture him mentally. It was something, at least.
“Yes, William, I understand.”
“I hope you do, Brendon.” Beckett’s smooth voice replied. “For your sake, I sincerely hope you do.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Please R&R!!
Beckett leaned back in his high-backed antique leather chair. Almost everything in the room was an antique, from the desk he sat behind to the Chinese wallpaper, to the bookcases and their contents. Modern touches, such as lighting and soft furnishings, favoured a late nineteenth century style. The only thing that appeared truly out of place in the Victorian-style office was the laptop computer opened on the desk.
In life, William Beckett, had been a man of simple pleasures and elegant taste. He had been intelligent and resourceful, with a flair for business. All of this had carried through with him when he had been turned and although he preferred an older style as he looked around the mansion, he was a firm believer in making the best use of modern technology. Over the years, he had seen older vampires founder, confused and bewildered by the rush of technological advances, but he had been there at the start of the Industrial Revolution. He had witnessed for himself the very beginnings of advances in science and architecture. He had seen swift advancement, the greatness and power that it brought. And he wanted it. His mind made up, he would learn, he would use, he would control. That said, his natural aesthetic taste dictated that a laptop was the perfect solution to his needs. An indispensible tool that when not in use, could be hidden from view and would no longer spoil the classic lines of each carefully chosen piece of furniture.
“Enter,” he said brusquely as he closed the laptop and slid it into the top draw of the desk. Beyond the door, Brendon Urie stood with his arm raised, ready to knock. Beckett frequently knew when he was near; it was a technique he had developed to ensure that none of his vampires would be able to catch him unawares.
Looking up, Beckett offered an approving smile. Before him, Brendon stood in the centre of the room waiting to be called forward. Wearing a crisp cotton shirt, close-fitting dark pinstripe suit, cravat and highly-polished black shoes, Brendon knew he looked good.
Beckett motioned for him to approach, admiring him as he did. Beckett’s Coven was generally regarded as flamboyant and decadent. He personally had no problem with this. He saw it as a vampire’s duty to be beautiful. Beautiful, mysterious and deadly. The members of his Coven were chosen carefully. So carefully that when one managed to break from his control, it angered him greatly.
Brendon would be the last to acknowledge that Beckett controlled him, but he did. Brendon called him Master and whilst he had certain freedoms, he was always accountable and subservient to the Coven’s leader.
“Master William,” Brendon bowed his head reverently.
At every meeting, Beckett insisted that all his vampires, even Brendon, call him Master. With his favourite, it was only the initial greeting. From then, the meeting would usually proceed on an informal basis, but Beckett liked the stamp of authority. He liked to remind his subordinates exactly who was in charge.
“Brendon,” his smooth, velvety voice began, “please, sit down.”
Unbuttoning his jacket, Brendon took a seat at the desk.
“You know, of course that we have Peter back under our control.”
Brendon pouted. “I wouldn’t say under control, but he’s here, yes.”
Beckett narrowed his eyes. “Yes, he’s here. And under control in the sense that he’s chained up in the dungeon.”
“Where he should have been from the start!” Brendon snapped.
“Are you questioning me, Brendon?” Beckett asked sourly.
Rising from the chair, Brendon turned away, taking a few angry paces before spinning on his heels to stare at his master.
“He disobeyed you and you allowed it!” Brendon snapped. “Are you surprised that he turned on you and rejoined his damn hunter friends?”
He didn’t see it, barely felt it, but Brendon knew he’d gone too far when he found himself on all fours, crouched on the floor, nursing his bleeding bottom lip. Beckett was too fast even to be seen by another vampire.
“Master William!” he begged, trying to ingratiate himself and recreate Beckett’s easy temperament that he felt on his arrival.
“Don’t get me wrong, Brendon,” Beckett snarled as his favourite pushed himself to his feet once more. “You are my second, but you will not touch Peter, or question me over my treatment of him.”
“You… you care about this rogue vampire?” Brendon stammered. “He’s nothing! He’s less than nothing! What about…”
“What about you?” Beckett snapped, rising from behind the desk once more and taunting him. “Do you fear for your position, Brendon?”
Standing to meet his master’s gaze, Brendon frowned.
“Do I need to?” he asked curtly.
“I know you receive many challenges to your elevated role in my affections and I know what you do to deal with it. And then, when the challenger is dead, I punish then forgive you. Such a merry dance! But mark my words, Brendon, if you do anything like that with him, before I’m ready, your punishment will be severe and forgiveness will not be forthcoming. Your new rank will be lower than that of slave and I will take great pleasure in letting my slaves exact their own punishment on you each and every day!”
“William… how can you…” Brendon began, at first shock winning out over anger.
“I want him unharmed, Brendon. Do you understand me? Completely unharmed.”
Brendon stared down at his feet. He was angry, jealous, envious, furious! He had already suffered and this was not the time to argue more; Beckett’s mind was made. He had tried on a number of occasions to trap Pete. This was the first time he had been successful. If Brendon had given it enough thought, he would have known that this situation was… no, that Pete was special. It was how special that angered him.
“You want me to stay away?” Brendon shrugged, pretending to be unmoved. “I can do that,” he added with another feigned indifferent shrug.
Beckett grinned at Brendon’s suffering. He knew that, at the very least, Brendon wanted to torment his, as he saw it, rival for Beckett’s affections.
“Do what you will, but don’t kill him. Not unless you truly want to feel my anger.”
“And his friends?” Brendon asked, more out of curiosity than interest.
“For now,” Beckett shrugged, “I want to keep them alive. Peter seems to care if they live or die; we can use that. Keep them alive and mostly conscious, but what you do otherwise is your own affair.” Beckett raised a warning finger. “I just don’t want to hear that you went too far. Remember, they’re only mortals; they break easily.”
Brendon laughed cruelly at the idea of tormenting Wentz with tales of the torture of his friends.
“I can be surprisingly gentle,” Brendon smiled sweetly. “Shame they won’t see that side of me!”
Beckett smiled at the cruelness, if overzealousness, of his prodigy. “Alive, Brendon, remember. I don’t make idle threats.”
Brendon nodded. He had to physically restrain himself severely with Wentz, but could at least torture him mentally. It was something, at least.
“Yes, William, I understand.”
“I hope you do, Brendon.” Beckett’s smooth voice replied. “For your sake, I sincerely hope you do.”
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Please R&R!!
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