A/N: Extremely 'short' I know, but it is just the introducton. Now, I must warn that this is an extremely DARK fic. But there is some twisted happy times too... The rating is for blood, gore and just plain horror. There is little to no romance in this story. I would like to greatly thank you for clicking my work and I do hope you drop a comment if able. Heads up, no beta (but would like one).
Disclaimer: Me no own this wonderful anima/manga. Just the story/plot
BLACK WILL
Prologue: A is for Animal
There were boxes everywhere. Though they were all different shapes, they still fit almost perfectly together. They where stacked and packed tightly. Those who used the boxes didn't want them to take any more room than necessary. Especially with how they smelled. Several boxes, over the past week, had acquired a not to pleasant smell. Still, the workers continued on in their lax work. They were professionals after all so they could take their time with their job. One of the workers brought in another box. Another laughed. Getting up from his seat, a man walked over to the box and produced a knife. He stabbed a few small holes into the box and then placed it onto the pile.
The next day, the smell had worsened, but that was because the professionals decided to start their job. They carefully packaged the meat, placing it back in the box that the animal had earlier contained. However, they decided to just place the boxes now filled with limbs in the same pile. So of course some of the boxes got missed. But it didn't matter much, the workers were almost done after all.
The warehouse that they had been using to butcher was old and on a steady path to destruction. It was in a more isolated part of town and there was no doubt that it would soon be destroyed to make room for something new. The professionals liked this spot however. It was all about location. As the saying goes, "Location, location, location". Indeed, being so far from civilization ensured that the damn animals wouldn't wake anyone when they screamed. They were just kids after all. The younger ones usually had tastier meat and were easier to corner. If one took the correct steps of course.
Being professionals, they had to make sure that the meat didn't get ruined, or it wouldn't serve it's purpose. So they usually had to knock out the poor thing before locking it the smallest box possible so that it wouldn't be able to move. The muscles would cramp and they would eventually get malnourished because the workers refused to waste money on feeding them. But they always made sure they had air. It wouldn't be good if it died before the harvest. So they made sure it had lots of air holes. Though sometimes the box wouldn't be the only thing with holes. But it didn't mater. That actually helped the workers when it came time for the kill.
They also had a strict schedule. They were, once again, professionals. So it was hunt, capture and kill. A very twisted version of those childish games that kids would play. But the workers didn't really care. All that mattered was that they made sure everything would go smoothly. And it always did.
It had been about a week since the last harvest, the boxes once again being stacked with the others. But there was a slight mishap. The box that was left only last harvest was forgotten again. In fact it was pushed even farther back. This wouldn't do, oh no. The thing would certainly spoil soon. After all, it was bordering on death, without food or water for so long. The holes in it's side didn't help either. The man hadn't been to careful with this one and sometimes pushed to hard on the blade. But it was going to die anyways, so who cared?
That right. It was going to die. Along with all the other animals locked in those tight boxes. Even though they were just kids. After all, their meat was the most tender and juicy. Though if one was not careful, sometimes there was more blood than necessary when the butchering would begin. But of course the professionals were always careful with their work and cleaned up all the spills that would sometimes occur.
But now a days, those spills were happening more and more. And the professionals were cleaning less and less. So now the smell increased again. The poor creature that had survived the last two harvests had thought itself already dead. It was surrounded by decaying corpses after all. There was also the problem of the numbing pain in it's side. The wounds had begun to heal, a slight chance of infection in such a place. The young thing could no longer move it's limbs in any form, having been locked in that position for so long. Sometimes it wondered why the workers hadn't kill it yet, it was their job after all.
Screams began to ring out in the warehouse as the butcher began his bloody work. The boxes were in motion once again. Going back and forth. From living to dead. From wholes to parts. There was cruel laughter. It sighed dryly. Sounded like they had a real live one, the way it was wailing. Licking it's lips it could smell the rank of flesh blood that had now stained it's nostrils. It breathing became irregular and it knew what was happening. It was hyperventilating again. It happened everything it could hear movements other than that of the other occupants in the surrounding boxes. Fear once more rang though the baby's body. It was still young, probably the most promising in terms of meat. And most important, entertainment. But it had grown weak and sluggish. Even though it's breathing was harsh, the mind was blank.
More laughing. It sounded like the workers were having a lot of fun with this batch of kids. It wondered it death was that much fun. It didn't really have any form of memory yet so it was hard to tell if this was fun. At first it didn't really feel like it, but eventually it seemed to get funner. And funner. And funner! All of a sudden the smell wasn't so bad. The muscles felt rejuvenated. Even the eyes seemed to get some spark. But it was a black spark, complete opposite of the orange one that was once there.
Footsteps and slight squishing could be heard. A worker lifter the little animals box and brought it over to the table. He cut the tape, expecting a scream as it grazed it's flesh. But he didn't even get a yelp. Perhaps it was already dead. When the professional opened the box, he didn't see the corpse of something long dead, but rather a monster, baring it's fangs with a smile.
It would take one more day for the police to finally find the serial killers hide out. They had been kidnapping children of various ages from all around. The twisted people would cut up the poor things while they were still alive. But not before they malnourished them so that they were weak. Also, they would put them in boxes, because that would cramp the muscle, and lead to a much more bloody job.
The police came armed, because they were facing professionals. People who had eluded them for ages. They burst into the warehouse, guns at the ready. But they met no resistance, because there was none left. The once proud tower of boxes was no more. Everything was destroyed. Some of the blood ripe, leaking from still closed boxes. The group moved on despite the revolting sight.
They found the work bench, the workers, the professionals the serial killers, all of them that held all three titles were dead. Some had exploded, others insides had become ash, and some had slashes all over their bodies. Their cause of death would forever puzzel the ones at the scene.
The leader of the group signaled them to split up, to try and find any survivors to the accursed cult that had grown over the past year. The police wanted to be able to return the poor kids to their families. But as they searched they knew it would never be. Until they looked under a pile of killers corpses.
That day, Nana Sawada would never be so happy, worried and relieved when a policewomen would knock on the door, carrying with her a malnourished, cramped up, three year old child that would later be known as the only survivor of the Black Box cult.
