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Cherie wasn't an idiot.
She’d have known if she was.
Matter of fact, if she had to pick just one quality about herself, she’d say her cleverness was one of her strongest—which, in fairness, she had said before, not that anyone bothered to listen—but it was still a shock when her sharp and honed mind came with a revolutionary thought: what if her plan… failed?
She didn’t think it was probable, let alone ‘likely’ as her pathetic excuse for a brother had claimed, but entirely unrelated to him, the thought had been bothering her since the moment she left her nominee.
It perturbed her, nagging at her despite the plan’s perfection. She’d already considered the obvious points of contention, namely the way Mannequin and Crawler had the internal soundscape of a broken engine or a collapsing building respectively, or how The Siberian radiated utter silence—as if she’d eaten her emotional orchestra long ago.
‘Oh, so anyone with half a brain would think the plan was impossible,’ most people would’ve thought, but Cherish wasn’t most, and she had way more than half a brain.
It was thanks to her intellect she’d realized one key detail: those three might have been near untouchable, but a master manipulator like her wouldn’t ever need to affect them directly. They were, ultimately, just another group of pathetic and needy losers, and wouldn’t dare act against her if everyone else joined the fold.
The Siberian wouldn’t risk losing her… weird, pseudo-daughter thing with Bonesaw.
Mannequin was lonely, and if he didn’t fall in line he’d stay that way, and Crawler?
Uh. He’d probably be fine? Long as that thing kept getting into fights, he’d be content.
Basically, if she controlled the majority, then really she controlled all of them. Peer pressure was fucking rad.
And that was the key. The rest of the big bad Slaughterhouse simply weren’t as difficult to manage as people thought. Their emotions played a wide range of melodies, some like a symphony in a concert hall, and others like a forgotten song in a buried room, but they all had one thing in common.
They felt so tantalizingly close, as if at any moment Cherish could reach out and pluck their strings, to make them dance. Simply step onto stage, with a conductor’s wand in hand, and command this merry band of murderers.
She’d considered everything! Hell she even knew that an orchestra would never be eternally compelled to play to the whims of their conductor, but that had always been the real brilliance of her plan. The perfect composition, sticking in the minds long after the encore. All that was left was to let it play out…
…so why did she suddenly doubt herself?
It was like the night before the first performance, fitfully looking across her sheet music for any errors, knowing logically that it’s flawless, but feeling some strange sense of unease.
An odd desire to take a safer path. A sense that this would somehow go wrong. It couldn’t be a common experience, that was for certain.
Perhaps, then, she should take heed of her own brilliance. She wouldn’t abandon a master plan like this, god no, that’d be idiotic and lame… but she could approach from a different direction, preempt the unexpected.
What if, in an extremely unlikely scenario, someone managed to figure out her plan too soon. Bonesaw was a freaky kid, even by Cherie’s standards, she could just decide to, like, recreationally dig around in someone’s brain and find too much… happiness gunk—the fucking, Sarah Tonins, or whatever.
If that happened before the conditioning was fully ready, then her plans would be fucked. Easy solution: have a back-up. If she focused on turning one member at a time to her side, then even in the worst case scenario she’d already have allies to defend her. Or to serve as a distraction while she hauled ass, either worked.
The question was just who to start with… Jack was immediately a no-go, saving him for last was obvious. The moment she’d claim The Nine for herself and all her machinations would come to fruition? That needed to be savored, and what would the point be if she started at the final verse.
No, she would need a guaranteed ally. Someone that wouldn’t take too much effort. That ruled out Shatterbird, sadly, even though Cherie had figured someone whose whole thing was singing might appreciate even a little constructive criticism, but nooo—
She needed someone easily influenced. Someone kinda pathetic and malleable, someone constantly seeking comfort in others, and mentally weak enough to not struggle too much in the process…
Slowly, her gaze wandered over to Mimi.
The world at large saw her as a dangerous arsonist and murderous villain: the Pyromaniacal Burnscar. To Cherish, she was the lame and depressed loser that somehow managed to be a wet rag whilst having fire powers.
Just for one current example? Their group had found a very recently vacated apartment and had decided to squat here for the time being, and was Mimi enjoying any of the amenities? Taking the chance for an actual shower? Enjoying a proper meal? Anything at all?
Nope, too busy engaging in her second favorite activity—just behind following Shatterbird around like a lost puppy—and was edgily brooding out of a broken window.
She’d examine the flame in her hand, fueling it with some of her emotions as it grew in size, before diminishing it as she looked forlornly across the city. Real, ‘oh woe is me, I’m so angsty over being a monster, boohoo I’m so sad’ vibes.
It was exhausting just looking at her.
Unfortunately, that made her ideal for this. Cherish only nearly threw up in her mouth at the realization.
She gave a cursory glance across the apartment, and a deeper search with her emotional sense. They were relatively alone right now—save Bonesaw and her freakshows in the bedroom, who were doing god knows what to the previous occupants—making this the best opportunity she’d get in a while.
So, master of acting that she is, Cherish casually approached the window for unrelated reasons, even if Burnscar just so happened to be there, and settled in next to her. She just wanted to look out at the city, obviously.
Mimi immediately paused, suspicion radiating from her in a rising note, whilst her flame continued growing in an unspoken threat. She was trying to suss her out, but unfortunately for her, Cherish was a goddamn acting prodigy. Oh, wow, flooding and destitution, haven’t seen that before. And is that a blood splatter? Crazy.
Fucking nailed it.
As was to be expected, Mimi quickly fell for the ruse, and turned back to her regular old routine moments later. In doing so, she let her flame die back down, and following the inverse-square law, her emotions got more intense in response.
With surgical precision, Cherish chose that moment to inject a steady stream of relaxation. A calming tune joining the forlorn symphony, with sparse notes of contentment and joy, a perfectly natural addition to her soundtrack—
And then she saw stars.
Just as quickly, sharp pain exploded from her back, and a fraction of a second later, Cherish realized she’d been slammed against the wall with enough to shake the nearby shelves. It hurt like hell, but it wasn’t the worst she’d dealt with.
Still sucked, though.
Before she could say as much, Burnscar was in front of her with an arm pinning her against the wall, and an irritated scowl on her face. Steadily the pyre in her hand grew and incinerated all of her hard work in an instant.
“The hell do you think you’re doing?” She snarled, enunciating each word like she was talking to a child. Ironic, really, since she was the one throwing a tantrum just cause lil miss edgelord felt a positive emotion for once in her life. Ungrateful.
The fire grew in tandem with her words, drowning out her melody with an atonal and crackling mess. Because that’s all it was, really. Burnscar might claim her fire made her emotionless, but that’s an amateur’s claim, especially to Cherish who had seen true emotional voids before.
Oh, she could burn away any inconvenient feelings, sloppy work as it was, but there was plenty going on in the foreground, no matter what she liked to think.
Frustration, anger, indignation, and a sadistic twinge born from how Cherish edged away from the flame, all those played the loudest, whilst the other feelings became distant chimes in the background.
With a mental twitch, Cherish could reverse that. Create a spike of terror like the crash of a cymbal, and force her to fold to authority like she always did…
…except, that would go against the whole point of fostering protective feelings. Eugh, she’d have to connect and be subtle if she wanted this to work out. Even Shatterbird gave her gentle moments, as opposed to Jack who simply saw no need.
Although, neither were trying to be seen as an equal, so there was no one’s work to copy.
Cherish would have to be the first, then.
Master actress, manipulator extraordinaire, just connect like an equal…
Cherie threw her hands up and looked at Burnscar with big wide eyes, “S-sorry, sorry!” She stammered in the most Mimi-style fashion she could manage, “it’s a habit, I’m sorry!”
A note of surprise, a leitmotif of potential, before Burnscar let the feelings turn to ash as she leaned in close.
“A habit…. So you regularly try this shit?” She snarled, “do you think this is some game? That I don’t realize exactly what you’re trying to do?”
“I-I’m not—” Pause for a second, wince, continue. “I was just… trying to protect myself—please, I really didn’t mean anything!” Now squeeze her eyes shut for effect, and…
Burnscar hesitated, distant chimes of empathy and recognition beginning to join the melody, as the anger started to fade. Like adjusting the knob on a radio, she forced her flame down to cinders and the music got louder.
“W-what did you just say?” Mimi asked, whilst her feelings couldn’t decide between hope and fury. Cherish smiled internally, she might be playing it by ear, but any good song should have a catchy hook.
“Please, just, don’t be mad, I was just…” She paused—hesitating, from an outside perspective—and slowly opened one of her eyes, as if she was scared of what she’d see.
Mimi stared back at her. Large green eyes filled with surprise, and a potential mote of understanding. She gave Cherish a small nod, and she forced her expression to be more relieved, even if being pitied by America’s most pathetic woman was a blow to her pride.
“L-like I said, it’s a habit… Daddy dearest would always take his bad moods out on us… so after a while, I guess… I learned to make sure he was never in a bad mood to begin with…” not that her powers worked on him, but Mimi wouldn’t need to know that. “Failing that, at least I could try to avoid him, but… that’s not really an option now…” she finished sadly.
Eugh, the girl was eating this up. The anger had all but disappeared, and she was radiating melodies of soft sympathy that harmonized with the sense of understanding. Cherie tried to summon a smile about it, and could barely manage a wavy half-thing.
“I just needed to get away from it all, but then Daddy never took well to feeling snubbed, least of all by his kids… and suddenly this was the only safe place left.” She shrugged, and had an idea. Her coup de maître, should she be right about Mimi’s past. “I don’t know how to explain it, but for as terrible as this can be, it’s still better than going back to that.”
And there it is. Immediately what little fire remained was snuffed out, and Mimi’s shoulders slumped slightly, as recognition and relatability filled her tune.
“Oh,” she said lamely. Fuck yeah, ‘oh.’ God, Cherie was good. “You were just trying to not get hurt,” she said, mostly to herself, as her gaze grew distant.
Cherie still nodded in response, just to cover her bases.
“Oh. Oh… you’re just trying to not get hurt!” She repeated as if it was some great revelation. Apparently she felt that way too, as her emotions exploded in realization and surprise, the earlier leitmotif of potential coloring the entire symphony.
Cherish stared at her blankly. Was she damaged? Like, more than the usual?
“Uh,” part of her almost expected her to say it a third time, but the broken record seemed finished, “aha, yeah? Got it the first time, too.”
Mimi didn’t respond, instead stepping away to pace back and forth, her emotions a whirlwind of happiness, guilt, doubt, considerations, fear, hope, and a slew of other things lost in the cacophony. Whatever she was thinking, it ended with a shock of disappointment and hopelessness, as was standard fare with her.
She turned to look at Cherie, seemingly only just realizing she’d been watched for that entire thing, “aha, sorry for that…” she seemed embarrassed, which in fairness she should be, that was fucking weirdo behavior.
She almost said as much, before catching herself. Eugh, right, connecting.
“Sooo… you good?” God this empathy shit was easy.
“Y-yeah, just, nothing much, I’m fine.” She answered, as if anyone who’d ever actually been fine had said as much.
“Uh-huh, sure could’ve fooled me,“ Cherish said, sliding into the couch all the while, “seemed like a lot going on for ‘nothing much’.”
“What?” Mimi turned to her with some alarm.
“Wait, did you seriously forget how my power works?” Cherish laughed at her, “oh come on! Emotion reading, ring a bell?” C’mon, she knew the girl wasn’t completely there mentally, but did she have to act like it too? Especially when it was getting this warm in here—
Ah.
“Shit, shit, sorry.” Cherie quickly rushed over, whilst Burnscar cycled through emotions. Hurt, guilt, indecision—probably considering just opting out of emotions, which was the opposite of what she should do. Cherie tried to smile at her, “sorry, just… bad day, I didn’t mean anything by it, really. Prommy.”
Mimi looked at her in return, recognizing something in the scene, and the heat died back down. “Hah,” she sighed, “guess I can’t fault that… besides, you’re the one who tried to affect the emotions of a girl who loses them half the time.” She teased like she’d gotten her in return, despite literally just being wrong, like those aren’t even comparable, is she dumb?
“That’s not even true,” Cherish spat out, before hesitating, “ah, uh, sorry?” God, being nice wasn’t easy when the girl was such a mess.
Mimi’s brow was furrowed, “what do you mean by that?”
“Uhhh.” Fuck, what’s the nice and meek thing to say? “Isn’t it obvious?” Nope, that’s not it, keep going. “You don’t get emotionless, or my power wouldn’t work on you. Sure, the effects don’t last long, but they don’t need to, usually sooo…” and Mimi had stopped paying attention halfway through the sentence, cool, that’s totally how conversations go.
“C-could you…” the girl hesitated, a quiet melody of hope returning once again, “fuck, uh, like effect me enough to clear my head—even if there’s a lot of fire?”
“Oh, yeah, easily.” She waved off any notion to the contrary, “not for long, but totally.”
Until Mimi got accustomed to it, at least, but if they were in a fight she ideally wouldn’t be using it that often. Hell, maybe the conditioning would even chime through the fire.
Mimi just stared into space, laughing in disbelief like a fucking weirdo. “Maybe Elle was right,” she whispered to herself, “can’t keep doing this shit…”
Uh, “what, sorry?”
Mimi’s eyes immediately snapped to meet with hers, and she spoke with none of the usual hesitancy. “Where are the other members right now?”
“What’s that got to do with—”
“Now!” Burnscar interrupted with enough force to fling sparks from herself.
Feeling distinctly like not getting burned, Cherie chose to comply with miss basket case’s sudden power trip, Cherie complied, listening to the signature themes she’d long since memorized.
“Jack’s in an apartment halfway across the city, Bonesaw’s here, duh, and everyone else is either much further away or out of my range.” She pointed in their general areas, and just to make sure Mimi didn’t think she could regularly get away with this. "Satisfied? Or should I also list their exact moods, desires, and intentions, your Majesty?"
Mimi blushed slightly, “sorry—wait, can you do that?”
“Oh my god, we just established this—”
“No I mean… can you read people’s desires—actually, nevermind, don’t answer that.” The feeling of embarrassment swelled, joined by swirling tones of shame and disgust, self-loathing and guilt, and the like.
So that’s what this was about. Luckily, anyone that says feelings are complicated is a fucking chump. Placing a soft hand to Mimi’s cheek, Cherie smiled gently at her. “Yeah, have for a long time, as well. What you feel won’t surprise me, and I’ll never judge you for those emotions.” She tilted her head and gave her a big—albeit fake—grin. “I promise.”
Mimi’s eyes widened, smiling in return as she placed a hand over Cherie’s and gave it a squeeze. Her symphony mellowed out into feelings of gratitude, joy, relief, belonging, and… the start of an attraction, with sparks of—is that arousal?! Ew ew ew, genuinely what the fuck. Hadn’t she been miserable a second ago? God is she fucking bipolar or something? Seriously, what’s her malfunction, get a grip.
Without ever letting go of her hand, the bipolar freak began making her way towards the door with Cherie in tow. “Thank you,” she whispered, and before Cherie could respond, she knocked on Bonesaw’s door. “Hey, we’re going out for a bit to, uh, cause mayhem and wanton destruction.”
“Okey-dokey!” Came the muffled reply, as sounds of tearing flesh grew louder from the bedroom, “Oh! Bring me back some snacks, pretty please!”
“You got it!” Mimi replied with faux-cheer, and gave a single finger gun to the closed door—cringe—and led them both outside.
Cherie waited until they were definitely far enough away from Bonesaw or her creations before speaking up. “Gonna let me know what you’re planning, or do you want me to use my powers to play twenty questions?”
Mimi laughed a little—that wasn’t meant to be a joke dumbass, seriously—and turned to look at her with a soft smile.
“Well, you said you didn’t want to be hurt anymore, right?”
Where was she going with this? Cherie still nodded back to her, and Mimi smiled wider, and for once the burn marks that formed a tear trail down her face almost seemed like tears of happiness.
“Then let’s go,” she said, and her emotions reached a crescendo of determination and resolution as she looked at Cherie with a fondness she hadn’t seen before, “and I promise, I’ll protect you, and get us both to safety.”
Cherie could barely believe it, but… She was being genuine.
Holy shit, her plan had already worked?! God, sometimes she surprises herself with her sheer brilliance.
“Then let’s go,” Cherish replied, oozing satisfaction at yet another flawless plan. If everyone else was half as easy, then by the time she got back, she’d be able to wrap all of them around her finger. Or around her hand, given the grip Mimi still had on hers.
And then? She’d finally be safe.
She didn’t know where they were going—the only thing she knew was this way were the Dragon crafts—but she’d enjoy this outing whilst she planned for her eventual domination.
Her brilliance knew no bounds.