The silence in the ruined apartment was shattered by the relaxed footsteps of Tom Jacker amidst the rubble. Makima stood trembling, her newfound vulnerability feeling like an open wound in the cold air.
"How does it feel, Makima-san?" Tom asked, his low voice cutting through the stillness. "To be mortal?"
Makima didn't answer. Her brain, usually operating at hyper-speed, now felt paralyzed. The man before her wasn't a pawn; he was the hand that had swept the entire chessboard clean.
"You spent your life controlling," Tom continued, now standing directly in front of her. "But you never thought, who would control the controller?"
He didn't wait for a reply. His hand explored Makima's body possessively, mapping every curve as if it were a trophy he had won. He didn't tear Makima's formal attire, which was now ripped in several places; he removed it with cold, humiliating efficiency, exposing pale skin in the moonlight that seeped through the broken wall.
He lifted Makima with ease, then slammed her onto the cold, dusty floor. Without further ceremony, with a single powerful thrust, he entered her.
Makima gasped sharply, an almost inaudible sound, but to Tom, it was music. It was the sound of the first crack in her perfect facade of composure. Their rhythm was fast, desperate, and brutal. Every thrust was an assertion of Tom's power, and every choked breath from Makima was an acknowledgment of it. Their sweat-slicked skin rubbed against each other, creating a burning friction amidst the cold ruins.
"Look at you," Tom hissed, grabbing Makima's hips and flipping her over, forcing her to kneel among the debris. "The Control Devil... now yielding beneath me."
He took her from behind, deeper and harder. The sight of the world's most feared devil in such a submissive position was a triumph in itself for him. Makima bit her lip until it bled to stifle a scream, but her body betrayed her, instinctively moving to meet Tom's every thrust.
He wasn't just conquering her body, but her will. He lifted Makima's hips, changing the angle for deeper, more satisfying penetration.
"You like this, don't you?" he growled, slapping Makima's backside. "Feeling powerless for the first time in your life."
The climax came like a reactor explosion, a shockwave that sent tremors through their bodies. Tom roared as he released himself inside her, a savage cry of victory. Makima's body arched and trembled violently, surrendering to a wave of orgasm so overwhelming it made her forget everything, even where she was.
After what felt like an eternity, Tom withdrew. He stood and looked down at Makima, who was now sitting on the floor, her clothes ruined, her expression vacant. Her soul had been conquered.
Tom felt satisfied.
He glanced at Denji, who was still unmoving, then back at Makima. "I'll leave you with your broken toy," Tom said, his tone returning to casual. "Maybe you can try to fix him. Or maybe not. I don't care."
He wouldn't kill her. That was too easy. Leaving her alive in a mortal state, without the power to control, with the knowledge that there was an entity out there who had completely subjugated her... that was a far more poetic punishment.
Tom turned to leave. His show here was over. But before he truly left this world, there was one last event he had to host. A farewell party.