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S.M.A. & U-girl - Demon of Mercy
S.M.A. & U-girl - Demon of Mercy : Chapter 1

Chapter 1

  2017.11.13. 21:09

Note: We can thank this story to Stone Sour’s “Mercy” and S.M.A. and our friends’ brainstorming, which brought the main idea of this story. We also have to note that no matter how hard we tried to focus more on more action, the lovebirds kept wanting to cuddle and have sex… so you’ve been warned XD Enjoy!

Recommended song:Mercy” by Stone Sour (and their whole new album, Hydrograd.)

Fandoms: Slipknot, Korn

Characters: Corey Taylor/Jim Root, Shawn Crahan, Mick Thomson/Stacey Riley (past), Jay Weinberg, Craig Jones, Chris Fehn, Sid Wilson, Alessandro Venturella, Jonathan Davis, original characters

Rating/category: R (explicit), supernatural AU, post-apocalyptic AU, alternate dimensions, mysteries, slash, M/M, light BDSM, drama, romance, hurt/comfort, angst, dark, past abuse, violence, fighting, biker gangs, demons, angels, magic, blood/gore, blood play, mating/bonding, first time, rough sex, addictions, mild drug abuse, alcohol abuse, some (kinda manly) fluff.

Summary: In a post-apocalyptic world life is even harder than before everything went to hell. Greed and crime thrive among humans in order to survive. Jim Root is a troubled biker who’s been seeing strange things around him since his childhood, but always tried to deny these “visions” and his special abilities, not wanting to be a freak, just get by in his biker gang. What he didn’t know was that all those years he’s been protected by a Demon of Mercy. And that everything was about to change in his life because of that demon with whom his future was more interlocked than he could ever imagine…

Disclaimer: This is a product of our imagination and was written only for entertainment and fun. We don’t profit from this fanfiction and we mean no harm or disrespect against any real person, culture or custom that might appear in the story.


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Demon of Mercy
by S.M.A. & Useless-girl

Chapter 1

"You have to be fucking kidding me, Jim..." V-man sighed as he entered the other biker's room.

The air was stale, heavy with the smell of alcohol, food, sweat and sex. The big bearded guy was lying naked on his stomach, snorting up coke from the flat tummy of an equally naked, hard and wasted guy. It wasn't the first time the other tattooed biker saw Jim like this – or in a worse condition. 

Also seeing naked very young-looking men in his room wasn't anything new either. This one was a nameless regular hooker that sometimes hung around their biker gang. A slender hand kept caressing the messy hair of the much bigger and older man, a blissed out smirk playing on the swollen lips as the boy was watching Jim make the white lines disappear.

Sniffing a few times while wiping the remains of the white powder from his nose, Jim turned a pair of blood-shot hazel eyes at his fellow biker and friend.

"What? We're just having some fun!" he giggled.

"You know we have business to do today," V-man shook his head and dropped a smaller black sports bag into an armchair full of clothes. "The boss wants us to be ready in two hours. Pull yourself together until then," he said a bit irritated and banged the door shut behind him.

"Spoil sports!" the boy chuckled, drawing the high man's attention back to him.

"Right?" Jim giggled too then turned back to the boy. "So where were we? Oh yeah..." he licked along the bare stomach as his hand wrapped around the hard cock. "Fucking you through the mattress again..."

"Yes, sir..." the hooker bit his lip that still held the taste of Jim's cock and opened his legs as an invitation.


Outside the run down factory building, where the local biker gang liked to hang out and lived, the short buff and very pissed biker stormed out. 

As V-man passed a group of shadows right at the entrance, huffing to himself, the atmosphere seemed to change. 

Of course the human only noticed some strangely hot breeze around. Humans have lost the ability long ago to see and feel more than their own dimension. The many different worlds, like layers upon each other still existed, and many creatures could cross the borders of those worlds. 

In another perspective those shadows were humanoid-shaped and moved along as if floating above the ground. 

The human world was changing fast and it affected all the other ones attached to the long chain of dimensions. Distant wars stirred up the people, making criminal gangs and leaders rise up and greedily take control over what was left from the governments. Many humans have left their homes in search of a better place and future for their offsprings. And even more joined said criminals to have a living and maybe some sort of protection. 

The beings from the other worlds always enjoyed watching over the Earthly people, some even finding it amusing enough for their own fun. 

Being more multidimensional and higher-sensing creatures didn't mean that they were better... No, angels and demons came from different worlds but their intentions were just as varying as human nature. 

The group of shadows were demons, born in Gehenna. The world that had the most connections to the human one. And these specific demons were to look over and protect the biker gang from any danger. May it be from Earth, or Valhalla or Gehenna.

Number 8 looked at the building a bit worried, sensing the messed up biker inside. 

The Demons of Mercy had no name. He was the youngest among them and they were assigned to look after the special ones in the gang. He was Jim's guardian ever since the young Jimmy reached into his own darkness and with self-destructive behavior tried to turn away from what he was. 

#8 was first assigned to be the shadow of the troubled young man and he couldn't help but feel that dreaded bond forming between their spirits for many years. That was something when two spirits or souls connected over the borders of worlds and senses. Humans called it something like true love. But for guardians it was forbidden to interfere with their humans for personal reasons. 

Still the young demon felt bad as time was passing and leaving the others behind, he went to the messy room. 

The young guy was knocked out sleeping and Jim was sitting on the edge of the bed, his head between his big hands. #8 couldn't help but go closer to caress the man's head. Not peeking into his head, but using his ability to 'whisper' to him. 

"Get ready, Jim. The boss is waiting for you. You will be okay. It will be okay. I'll look after you," his voice was soft and soothing. His body not having a physical solid form in that world hugged the anxiously trembling man, wrapping him into some warmth of his own.

As the trembling was getting worse, a familiar warmth or rather presence filled the air around Jim Root, the messed up naked biker as he was sitting on the edge of the bed. 

Yes, it was familiar. During the years he'd felt such things. Sometimes it left a different feeling in him. Right now from the corner of his eye it seemed as if big black shadowy "bat" wings would have wrapped around him. It wasn't a bad feeling though. Just kinda scary.

The well-hidden truth was that Jim has been seeing strange things since his not too bright childhood. For a while his parents thought it was just his vivid imagination. But when he kept talking about these "visions" and the creatures he kept seeing, two things happened at home.

One, he was taken to a doctor who gave him pills that were supposed to help. Two, once it turned out that they weren't really working, his drunk of a father started beating him, saying that Jim just needed some discipline and killing out his mother's daydreaming nature from him. It was his way of trying to raise a real man out of Jim. Needless to say, it didn't work.

School wasn't better either. Everyone called him a freak for how he acted. Not even the handful of so-called friends he had believed him. That made Jim more introvert and by the time he was a young teen, the only peace and happiness he could find was when he played music.

But the "visions" – he liked to call them that – kept coming back, making him anxious and closed up. The stronger meds only made things worse and soon Jim found himself hanging with the wrong crowd. That's when he was introduced to alcohol and drugs. The boys he used to hang out with liked to roam the streets at night, steal smaller stuff or break in to trash mostly the abandoned places.

Life wasn't really peachy in their run down town, especially after everything in the world got so fucked up. Jim saw it all. How people started moving away, how dangerous looking guys began flooding the streets – criminals, bikers, drug dealers... The few residents who remained didn't dare to cross them or in some cases decided to join some of those guys in hope of earning more money and protection.

Jim's mom died during a robbery went wrong in the local supermarket. His dad got worse after that. He began heavily drinking and more beatings were in order. Not to mention that he refused to buy more of Jim's pills. Which, of course, made the "visions" come back that much stronger.

When Jim reached his breaking point at 15, he left his home for good. And never talked about what he could occasionally see. Being hungry and out of money taught him that living on the streets was really fucking hard. It forced him to steal more and soon he found himself joining his first biker gang.

Now, years later, he became a low-life criminal who did what he was asked to do. In return he only needed a few things: a guitar, a bike, a roof above his head, food, alcohol and drugs. The rest he didn't care about. He liked to numb his senses with the latter two. It was a shitty life, he knew.

So why didn't he end it, you ask? That was a very good question. Jim didn't know the answer to that although he often thought about it. Still, despite all of this... time after time when he felt this warm presence, he didn't feel that terribly alone and somehow – like an inner voice – something made him keep going.

Like now when he took a wobbly breath and slowly got up to put some clothes on. Before grabbing the sports bag in a few minutes, he put money on the nightstand for the boy. As Jim looked over the bruised up body, he thought it was well-deserved money.

Ignoring the slightly bitter taste in his mouth, he left his room to join the others outside. It was time to work.

The bikers were already gathering their metal horses when Jim and his guardian shadow arrived to the meeting spot. 

#8 saw how the other demons were ready too. #7 was looking after the leader, Shawn. #3 was assigned to Craig, the more of the business man type in the gang. #0 was V-man’s guardian, who approved with a big smile and a nod that Jim joined them in time and in a relative good state. He was the tall guy's closest friend, if Jim had anything like that at all... For some reason V-man always felt the mysterious and messed up man special. He couldn't put a finger on it, but was sure there was more to Jim and his fate than just being a low-life addict and criminal. 

#8 stayed close to his human. It wasn't that strange as the others knew how special and troubled Jim was. But his own friends saw what was underneath all of his closeness. 

"He will get in trouble for this…" #3 murmured watching the young demon sit on Jim's bike and his arms and wings hugged the biker. 

"He can't help with whom he will bond with. He knows he can't act on it. Don't worry…" #7 replied to #3. He was the closest to #8. He’s been training the young creature to be ready to be assigned. And also the one who knew about the questions #8 had over materializing in the Earthly dimension. 

You see, demons can do that just like the angels of Valhalla. They cross the thin border of the worlds and their spirits shape as a physical human body, with a face and a suggested name in their mind. 

Only the beings of Earth are born with the face featuring their parents’. Creatures from the two most strongly connected other worlds were more spirit-based, had no face just a mask that featured their power's nature. Something that #8 knew Jim saw many times, even if the young demon was careful. Jim could see them all if he wanted to. He just wasn't wanted... 

"We do this fast, guys. Going in, grabbing the loot and heading to the hideout we have to trash. I guess none of you have problems with some wrecking around, right?" Shawn, the leader asked during the speech for his gang before the ride out. The bikers cheered and the human and demon creatures got in their places to serve their purpose.

Jim didn't join the cheering of the others, because he tried to ignore the shapeless dark mass (or shadow?) he kept seeing over his shoulder from the bike's mirror. So it was going to be one of those worst days, it seemed. On these days he noticed more strange stuff and it took extra energy for him to try to logically explain some and deny the rest as much as he could. He just wished he could be a normal, ignorant stupid asshole who couldn't see these things and wasn't so often on the edge of questioning his sanity. 

It also wasn't easy to keep all these things inside for so long. He had no one to talk to about these things. Jim didn't want the gang members to think he was nuts or kick him out. It was so nice that no one called him a freak ever since he ran away from home. It was better to be seen as a low-life addict than that.

Focusing on riding with the others, his leather-clad fingers tightened around the handles as he gave gas to keep up. Riding was one of the few things in life that brought him happiness and a sense of freedom. As he sped through the streets and the outlines of the world blurred around him, he didn't care about obligations or shadows, just enjoyed the wind ruffling his beard and hitting his face. In these moments he felt truly happy so he probably cherished these the most.

The raid was fast indeed. But not as Shawn expected. 

#8 tried to stay as close to Jim as possible to protect him, but away enough to not be 'seen' by the man with special senses. He knew Jim was bothered by feeling him and the others around and he was there to help, not to cause more harm. 

The other gang's hideout was informed about the bikers’ arrival as it seemed, because armed men jumped down from the staircases, fighting back the gang which did not really expect this. 

It was only a matter of millimeters that a stray bullet didn't hit Jim in the head, thanks to #8 pushing him back with a wave of his hot energy. He was sure Jim saw him for that second and was staring at him surprised right into his masked face.

V-man was right to warn Jim earlier that day, because as things turned out, he sure as fuck would've died if he went there high as a kite. (Which he was planning to get once they got back safely.) Fucking assholes were prepared and Jim needed to muster up all the years of experience living among such though guys to survive this shitty day.

And of course when it was the least expected, things just took another weird turn. Jim could somehow feel it. That he was seconds from death, but then a hot wave of energy pushed him in the middle of his chest and he fell back against some crates, a bullet hitting the wall not far from him. It would've blown his head off for sure.

But as Jim cowered down between the crates and the back of a couch, he kept staring into that direction from where he felt the energy coming from... and where he saw that masked and winged dude for a moment. What the flying fuck was going on?!

Though he didn't have much time to think of that as the bullets kept flying and they had to get out of there fast and in one piece.

Of course the Demons of Mercy helped all of them to get away safely from the gunfire. #8 saw the others of his kind whisper to the humans at both sides. 

It took a while but in some miraculous way the bikers managed to get out and start to shoot into the building after getting their own guns. 

It was a big mess and #8 was glad the other group was 'unprotected' meaning those were simple humans without any chance to develop and grow. Jim and the others were… 

Non-human beings sense the future. Or more like the possibilities of one's soul. And as the Earthly world was chaos, it was important for the groups such as #8's to keep those souls safe. 

Shawn was a great leader, that has to be stated too and #7 was very proud of his human as Shawn quickly organized the next wave of attack and soon they captured the gunman and finished the job. 

But #8 felt those deep hazel eyes on him and the other beings all along... Too bad Jim was frightened from his abilities…

The surprise attack shook them all up a bit, but they were happy that everyone survived unharmed or with minor injuries. Jim only got a few bruises and a bullet grazed his shoulder, but nothing serious. He felt more protected now than ever. Was that strange... creature responsible for that? Because it looked to Jim that the scary-looking creature of whom he took a glimpse of was using that hot blast of energy not to harm but to put Jim out of the line of that bullet... Or maybe he was just too shocked and lost his balance on his own and didn't see anyone there... No shadows looming around them at all...

Of course he didn't really believe that as he joined the others by the bikes to put away the money, guns and drugs they found after the shooting was done.

"We have to get the fuck out of here fast," Shawn grunted hearing some distant police sirens. "Let's hit the road! Good job, everyone. We celebrate at home!" he announced, which got a round of applause again.

Once again, Jim didn't join in just nodded. He still looked pale as he put his helmet and sunglasses on, half-expecting that shadow behind his shoulder again, but he didn't look into the mirror this time in fear of seeing more than that there. He simply started his girl and followed the others back to their hideout.

#8 wasn't behind Jim. He felt the big man's confusion and stayed behind with the others, keeping an eye on his human from afar. 

The bond was there between them. There was no doubt and as it got stronger with time, #8 felt something new... A longing after Jim. A longing to be seen and to know for sure how the touch of those big hands could feel. Or the kiss of those plump lips. So far he didn't feel anger towards the lovers Jim hooked up with. So far... #8 knew he couldn't become jealous, or let the bond make him greedy. His purpose was to protect. And his kind noticed all the changes on him too. 

Just like the way that in the past year Jim preferred more the short young-looking pale guys to share his bed with.

Back in the building they called home, the bikers shared the stash they managed to loot from the hideout, then gathered in the club room to crack a few beers and stronger drinks open and celebrate the successful action. The music was loud and soon both male and female hookers and "biker bangers" (as Jim liked to call them) appeared too.

He wasn't in the mood to celebrate though. Jim was too lost in his head, but stayed for a while at a table, drinking in silence, simply listening to the others boasting about that night. They didn't think it was strange that he barely talked. They got used to that during the years and knew when Jim needed his space.

After a few beers – and refusing to take anyone to his room that night – Jim retreated after checking on his bandaged shoulder in the bathroom. He was going to survive that graze for sure.

Standing in the open door of his dark room for a long moment, he got lost in his thoughts again. Switching on the lights, his hazel eyes quickly checked all the shadowy corners but didn't see anything this time.

"I must be finally going insane..." he mumbled to himself with a tired sigh and took off his denim west and black tee under it to toss it to the still messy armchair.

This time he didn't switch on his rock music as he usually did whenever he was alone – in fear of hearing some stuff. Instead he went to the hiding space of his stash and took out some just to sit down on the edge of the bed and roll a strong joint for himself. He might as well prepare for the stupid shit he was about to do.

Lying back on his bed he lit up the cigarette and took a deep drag, keeping it down for a while. By the time he reached the end of it and puffed the last smoke towards the ceiling, watching it swirling in the light of the lamp on the messy nightstand, his mind got numb enough not to call himself insane or be frightened that much.

"Who are you? I'm sure... I'm sure I finally saw you today. You've been around me for a long time... am I right?" he asked in the otherwise quiet room, waiting for an answer that might never come. Or what was even scarier: that thing might actually answer him. Jim saw enough paranormal themed shows and videos to know that talking to ghosts, acknowledging their presence could give them more power over someone, so he wasn't sure this was a good idea, but what the hell?! He was nearly at the brink of losing his sanity anyways, so what else could he lose???

Indeed, acknowledging #8 was a big thing and the creature felt his heart beat faster. He had no idea what to do now to assure Jim he was not insane but also not to scare him away… As nothing else came in his mind, he caressed the face of the lying man with his warm energy. Focusing on making Jim feel loved, he leaned to his ear. 

"I'm with you to keep you safe," he said knowing Jim will now hear him not just as his inner voice, but somewhere in between the usual way he’s heard him mixed up with #8’s own soft voice. "You can only see me in the corner of your eyes or in a reflection. You don't have to be afraid…" he continued but stopped when Jim moved. #8 didn't want to tell too much and mess up his human...

Jim was about to give in to his drifting mind and float into dreamland when suddenly he realized he was hearing some whispering right after a gush of warm energy gently hit his face. His eyes popped open from that nice warm feeling and maybe the sensation of being... safe and loved? Things were so messed up. Even more than usual. But he asked for this.

For some reason that faint voice felt and sounded familiar to him, even if he could hear it separate for the first time.

Sitting up, Jim looked around and true to the... creature's words, from the corner of his eye he caught a black mass standing next to his bed. He couldn't clearly make out the details, but it looked as if it had some kind of mask on its face... like the guy during the shooting.

"You... you're real... Not just my imagination..." Jim froze, not wanting to lose the visual. But then he remembered the creature's words and what he did earlier that day. "You saved me during the shooting... T-thank you for that. And for responding to me now... I thought I was going insane for real," he chuckled dryly. This was the first time he attempted to contact one of the things he's been seeing during all these years, and Jim didn't really know how to do this.

"What are you? Why do you want to protect me?" he asked confused. He was a nobody. A freak. Why would anyone (or anything) do that?

"You are special, sensing what others can't. I am real. Everything you ever saw was real. That's why you're special and I am to protect you," #8 answered knowing the more Jim knew him as real, the more real he will become on the Earthly dimension. And Jim will hear his voice clearer too. Even see him clearer... "You are not insane..."

"Special, huh?" Jim laughed with a bitter taste in his mouth. Yeah, he was special. He'd heard that enough times in his past. But at least now this creature was confirming what he always suspected and felt, but tried to deny.

"That's good to know. I mean that I'm not insane," he sighed with some relief. Although... he was talking to an invisible entity that showed up only in his mirror or at the edge of his vision... so... maybe it wasn't that good after all. Oh well...

"You... you didn't tell me what you are, though. And why do I have to be protected? I mean... why is it important that someone with these 'visions' is protected?" he asked more curious and eager to finally get some answers.

"You will know that in time," #8 said suddenly feeling out of his depth and calmness from all the questions. He also felt more 'solid'. The more Jim was accepting him being real, the more clearly visible he was becoming… "There is more out there than just this world humans sense. You can see between those worlds."

More cryptic answers that didn't make things much clearer, just gave tons of more questions to the biker. Was this creature talking about... "Are you talking about different... linked dimensions?" Jim asked out loud. He wasn't stupid and during his years he tried to read after supernatural stuff and the occult in hopes of finding an explanation to why he kept seeing these things. But without proper guidance it was hard. And maybe Jim was just too scared to go deeper into this in fear of what he might find there.

That thought was interrupted when he noticed something. As he moved his head a bit, he swore he saw the creature's reflection clearer and more detailed. Yes, his body was kinda see-through and black and he was wearing that scary ass mask or something... But what caught Jim's attention even more was a pair of brightly glowing ocean blue eyes. And strangely as he caught the creature's look in the mirror, his fear started to ebb down.

"From what dimension are you from? And how can you walk between the dimensions?" he whispered, not letting the gaze of the creature go. "Are you a ghost? Or a demon?"


Not able to move away or break the eye contact, the demon felt frozen feeling how Jim's fear started to fade from seeing him so clearly. It was amazing and uplifting and also frightening to the creature.

He felt his being connected even more to Jim. 

"There are no such things as ghosts. Only spirits... or souls without a physical body," #8 said finally after a few minutes of dead silence. He even moved closer, and with that making himself more visible to Jim. "You will know the answers with time. When you're ready," he said focusing his energies to the mind control his kind could use easily. "You should rest a little now," he said making the human brain feel tired all of a sudden, and hoping Jim was still more human enough for the trick to work well.

This getting closer thing escalated fast, and even if the demon longed for it, he panicked from the possibility of scaring Jim away if he poured everything on him at once...

Jim felt as if in a trance. Like a mouse in front of a snake or a deer in headlights. Also it was like falling too. It felt like that staring into the creature's insanely blue eyes. Needless to say, Jim was drinking in every word he could make out from the explanations.

When the creature came closer to him, he could get a better look of the scary mask that looked like a half-skinned corpse's head. The upper part looked more decayed than the lover "sewn" one. Still, Jim wasn't scared. It was as if getting under a spell – or rather the stuff in his system finally kicking in like horse tranquilizer...

Anyway, it all left him speechless and suddenly very tired and sleepy. Probably this eventful day was catching up with him. Before he knew, he was lying back only in his jeans, eyes feeling like lead.

"Don't go away..." he mumbled already half asleep, moving his injured shoulder into a more comfortable position. Then as he was slowly drifting deeper, he thought he'd heard that new but familiar voice singing in the distance. What a nice voice, he thought before darkness enveloped him.

Indeed #8 was singing to Jim. A song he often did but so far the human ears never heard it...

"I wish that you could see me here,
I wish that you could feel me here…

(Stone Sour: When the Fever Broke)

He finished with a sigh. His wish came true in a way... 

Watching over the sleeping man for a few seconds and thinking made the demon walk to the big mirror on the wall.

Seeing his reflection as Jim probably saw him. #7 was right. When he is needed to be there, the full crossing between dimensions was easier... Just as an experiment he hesitantly raised his hands to unbuckle his mask. Holding onto the feeling he still got from the sleeping man. The one that was calm from his presence and wanted to see him…

With only his hand holding the mask in place and letting that feeling of being wanted there fill his being, he wiped fear out of his mind and pulled his mask away. 

In the mirror a suddenly flesh and blood young short ginger-blond guy looked back at him. Only the eyes, which is the mirror of the soul were the same. He crossed the worlds. And turning back in his human body one word wanted to be said out by him so strongly that he couldn't resist:



Next chapter


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