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Chronicle of a Stranger and Punishment.

Chapter Text

"But it doesn’t mean anything…”

“It never does.” The Russian murmurs as his hands roam the Frenchman’s body, his lips tasting the supple flesh of his neck.

Suddenly, the door to the darkened room bursts open, a figure standing backlit in the frame.

“So. Is this how it is, Rodion? You abandon me for this French harlot?!” Bayardo steps further into the room, boots clicking on the floor. His shiny metal buttons glints slightly in the light. It reminds Meursault of his childhood.

“I’ve found a new lover as well, and he’s fiery.¨ Raskolnikov said, ¨Like the sun.” Behind the Columbian, another pale Russian steps into the room, entwining his slender arms around San Roman’s neck.

“Hello, Rodion, it’s been a long time.”

“Razumikhin. You bitch. I always knew you would fall for one of those Latin lovers.”

“And mine is the one who is going to kill you.” Bayardo steps forwards, his magnum in his hands, and fury in his heart. As Meursault dives for his revolver, discarded in a pile of clothes in the corner, the general’s son shoots him, dead in the heart.

Razumikhin hauls the other Russian to his feet, and plants his lips on Raskolnikov’s. Their tongues battle for dominance, as one gentle tear runs down Raskolnikov’s face, dousing his inner fury with passion for his one true lover.

Suddenly, a shot rings out. Razumikhin falls to the ground, bleeding from the chest, Raskolnikov cradling him like a wet bird,, falling to his knees, and bowing his head over his lover’s body. He gently kisses his forehead, and lays his already limp and lifeless body on the ground. Yet another gentle tear falls from his eyes that look like pools of limpid tears.

“Stay away from my brother!” Through the haze of the poorly lit room, a tall, slender Russian strides. Dunya reaches out and caresses the forehead of her brother, before turning to Bayardo.

“You did this. You corrupted him, turned him against his family. Now DIE!” Before San Roman can draw his weapon, Dunya shoots him in the heart, ending his tyrannical reign over the kingdom of Raskolnikov’s heart.

Dunya turns from the bloody wreckage of the pleasure pit, and walks out to her lover in the sweltering African heat. She embraces the former lady of the night, and the two kiss, their tongues lashing each other, leaving fiery streaks of passion on their skin.