An AU of my creation starring the character of the Mai-series. Only a few.
We never know what lies in store for us. We choose to veil our eyes from that which awaits us. All so we can protect ourselves, and on rare occasions, our need for protection leads to the development of alter personas. If we are not strong enough, we create someone who is. If we can not accomplish something we try and try again even if it leads to creating a version of oneself who is able to lead us into accomplishing a task, the task.
10:39 p.m.
The wind hissed it's discontent, as the young ethereal woman exhaled a cloud of murderous smog, to mingle with the brisk October air. Tapping it, her cigarette,
once, twice, she let the ash join the gravel at her feet. Her worn leather boots with crimson droplets, scarcely visible in the dying lamp light. The moonlight failing to embrace her figure in entirety. Dark blue jeans hugged her form, liquified life the shade of crimson, permeated through them. She could feel the now cooled liquid on her legs. She didn't care. It only served as a reminder of her fun. Her jeans were not the only indicator, no she had made sure of that. She had to remember, it wasn't as much fun if she didn't, couldn't. Her stripe pattern shirt and her leather jacket matched so well with them, so perfectly. The dark hue of the jacket only serving in masking the blood much like the leather of her boots. Not even her midnight tresses eluded her deep need for reminiscence. She needed to know that it was real, that she was real. Her countenance of alabaster, luminescent in the frail moonlight, a canvas of her deeds. Red dictating her actions, her emerald eyes flashing with her glee. True fun was had tonight it seems.
Taking one last inhale of her cigarette, she looked around one last time, making sure there were no more players to her little game this night. The echoes of nature could be heard throughout the otherwise silent park. A few birds soaring in the night sky, but otherwise there were no human playthings. No more fun. "Not one creature worthy of play, only unintelligible creatures left. They can scream, but they can't cry out like others can. They have teeth like us, but they can't speak. They've got eyes but they don't see, what we see, how we see. My fun has ceased." She let out a sigh, flicking the bud of her cig behind her. It landed on the decapitated head of a girl roughly the age of five or six. The dim moonlight seemed to give her eyes a semblance of life. A solitary tear escaped her left eye. From a distance you'd think she was alive however upon closer inspection the young girl's head situated on a blue pail filled to the brim with sand, was completely devoid of life.
She walked off a wicked knife, her embodied chaos, gripped in her right hand. It's intricate design hauntingly beautiful. The crimson paint doing nothing to dampen it's beauty even as it licked at the blade. If anything it increased it. The blood traveled from the blade to the advocate's hand, caressing the loose fist that held it, only to drip onto the ground. She wiped it clean on her pant leg and slid it into her boot. There was no need to leave a trail for those who frowned at her actions. No, they need not know where to find her.
She wandered off into the streets with no clear destination as she recalled the events of that evening. They were fresh in her memory, they were amazing. They were her own.
9:18 that night
A young woman walked through the crowded streets. Even at night the streets never seemed to die down. They all seem so enthusiastic. They frolic around with their friends and family. Giggling joyfully, smiling. It's late October and they all can't seem to wait for Halloween. Idiots they are, all of them. They run around masks on and frivolous costumes donned all to scare other and beg for treats. A true treat is unknown to them. Ask a few they'll answer: sex, tv, food, alcohol, and the occasional one who says something religious. They can go suck their lord's imaginary cock. True amusement comes from the sweet cries created from sheer pain. Pure, unadulterated pain. Caused by your own hand on those who are closest to you. Those who want to trust you. Those who want you only to realize too late that they made the wrong choice. To see the life slowly leave their eyes. Eyes once so full of life, staring back at you lifeless, dead to the world. To your own eyes. It's all so euphoric, but no one ever understands. To mark your existence on another, to carve it on their body in the most imaginative of ways, the most creative. It's all jealousy on their behalf. They hide it under the guise of disgust. Morals they say. Morals are just another way to make something amazing, something incredibly fun, wrong. Why? Because the person creating, setting these 'principles' was incapable of doing what others were capable of. What I am capable of. Morals do not hinder my actions. I have no morals. I have no god.
She bolted from the crowded sea of idiocy and entered a nearby park. Avoiding the pavement all together she went through the foliage, twigs snapping below her leather boots. She needed to escape the warden of her spirit. Society. She needed to get away.
I happen upon a group of people. A young woman. She's hideous. Her face riddled with acne, her nose overly large for her minuscule face her beady little eyes unattractive. Her teeth overly large as she attempts to laugh, I assume, only to let out some sort of mix between a grunt and a snort or was that a cough. I haven't got a clue. She wastes her time on what I believe to be a phone. I could be wrong I don't keep track on technology these days. I don't give a damn.
A man, late twenties early thirties. He looks to be quite tall if the length of his legs is any indication. He has light brown hair swept back and a set of rimless glasses hanging loose on the crook of his nose. Looking up every so often to check on a young boy around the age of eight give or take. Given by the features he seems to either be his son or a relative. He like the man situated on the bench has light brown hair and light sapphire eyes. Unlike the atrocious girl sitting across from them they have straight noses symmetrical to their faces. The boy is missing a teeth or two, baby teeth. The older gentleman however has a perfect set of white teeth. I'd love to yank them out one by one with my little friend, my parter in crime. My blade. It'll have to wait, I'm not done inspecting them all five of them. Yes, there's five.
The last two appear to be twins, paternal however. They both have locks of gold. Had the sun been out still i'm quite sure they'd glisten in the sunlight just like in those annoying commercials or was it something else? Who cares. Those two seem to be in the care of the troll. I doubt they're related what with their clear hazel eyes and perfect little teeth even at the age of five, they look to be around that age, they are no were near hideous nor remotely ugly besides the childish deformities that are chubby cheeks. Baby fat worst type of fat? I tend to think so on occasion. Not even their teeth hold the same deformities as the 'girl' over there. You never know ugly duckling and all that jazz. It's ok. I'll make her pretty. I have all that I need in my boot.
I move to check my watch. I don't have one. That's ok because Mr. Long legs has one. He'll hand it over. He will.
What I don't understand, not that I'm complaining is, why on earth would anyone take kids out to a park at night. I bet they wanted a chance to meet me yes, that must be it. Let's make their dream come true. A devious smile enveloped her face. Her eyes widening, no trace of sanity visible as she escaped from her spot of observation behind the foliage.
I want to voice out my enthusiasm, but I can't. They'll see me coming, we can't have that. No, we can't. Surprises are much more fun aren't they? They are. And so I make my way as soundlessly as possible behind the nearest person. Mr. Long legs. It's a shame it isn't the troll bitch, I'd love to fix her fucking face first but I really want that watch..
I run my hand through his silky hair, the kids and the troll hag haven't seemed to notice me yet, the kids are too entranced with one another playing in the little sandbox. What are they three? Any way I'm getting off topic, I run my hand through his hair gently as first, (why scare him away?) before gripping it and yanking his head back, more force, more impact. What better way to make an entrance? I look him straight into his eyes. Shock is evident and maybe even a hint of fear. I can feel my face gaining that psychotic smile it tends to take. I force my face to contort into an unpleasant grin, unpleasant for me really. Teeth unbarred eyes sealed shut, psychotic trace gone, I want to let loose. It's not time yet. Not yet.
"Hello sir, would you happen to no the time Mr..?" I smile at him still, my face the epitome of charm laced with hints of sweetness. "Sir, I asked you a question. Won't you be so kind as to answer my question?"He refuses letting anger filter through his sapphire eyes. This is pissing me off. "Answer my question." He looks startled now, but tries to put up a brave front for himself, and his son. "Just tell me your name then. What is your name. First name will be fine, just answer my question." She whispered harshly into his ear. Hand still tightly gripping his hair. It's a wonder why he didn't retaliate. Why he just stood there taking her treatment. The treatment of an obviously unstable woman. He just sat there looking into her now crazed eyes, silent. He knew his son, Mathew, had most likely noticed by now the deranged woman. He could feel a pair of eyes staring at him.
"Sir, what is your name. This is the last time I ask before we start our little game. Don't worry your son can play too. Everyone is invited. I'm just trying to be polite here. So won't you tell me your name? To answer your unasked question, your son is watching our little interaction."
Unease settled in his mind. How could she have known. It was obvious of course. However he unwillingly relented. "My name is Hiro." He closed his eyes as if that would prepare him for whatever lay in store in this game of hers.
"Hiro, you say. Nice to meet you Hiro, I took you for a foreigner what with your looks and all. Mixed I assume?" She looked up into the sky, her hand never leaving his mane, before looking back down at him. Her expression held no sign of insanity only that of curiosity.
"Yes." He answered gritting his teeth all the while. "What about the kid Hiro boy. What's his name?" A friendly smile taking residence on her face. One would think she couldn't harm a thing in the world. Her features akin to a child. Such innocence.
"His name is Matthew. Would you let me go now?" Irritation clearly coloring his eyes. "Of course silly!" Her hand slowly let go of his hair, patting his head soon after. He foolishly muttered "bitch" below his breath however. "What did you call me you insignificant piece of shit." All sanity lost replaced by both rage and the frightening look of craze, her eyes bore into his. She was about ready to murder him. Her hand once more buried in his hair her other traveling into her boot.
How dare this impudent bastard call me a bitch. I think it's about time to start this little game. I reach down, slowly, quickly for my beloved knife. We'll fix this bitch. I'll fix him. With speed unknown to most i grab hold of my knife, stabbing him in his shoulder. It's only the beginning. I hear a high pitched cry come from in front of us. It's the damn kids and the troll. Don't worry kiddies you'll get your own turn soon. I say and go back to dear dear idiotic Hiro. Hiro boy what's wrong? You in pain? I ask. He doesn't seem very happy about my concern. He spits at my face. I love you too don't worry. I say and wink at him before letting loose a cackle I tried to hold back since I saw him, them, everyone. It seems to strike fear in them all. They can't move an inch. I'm quite sure the kids have pissed themselves already. In fact I wouldn't be surprised if the troll bitch did too. Doesn't seem to have a backbone.
My attention goes back to you, to Hiro. The others aren't going anywhere. Not yet anyway I can take my time with you, with him, Mr. Hiro. I flip my associate for lack of a better more, personal, word for my prized knife, my friend, my family, my love. The kids seem entranced. I doubt they'll still be when they see that magnificent rose like liquid. Oh well. Hiro boy, it's time to play. I tell you, him as a whisper in his ear. A shiver travels through his spine. From fear or arousal I don't bother to question. I'm anxious, impatient, I need to hear their screams. I plunge my embodied chaos into his abdomen, yanking his head back, your head back, as I flip over the damn park bench. It's only an obstacle. I pull down your abdomen opening to me, wide open. I can see you, all of you. Like a hooker to a customer you're wide open for me to see. My hand forces it's way into you. I'm penetrating you with my fist, immersing my hand into your entrails. You're voicing out your agony. I've only heard such sweet vocals of a symphony on rare times. It brings such ecstasy to me. You have no idea. You endeavor to make dear Matthew run. To how do you say? "Save himself." That's not right. What type of father would deny his son a bit of fun? I tell him, this time my voice is much louder. You're screams are that deafening. I love it. I make sure my point comes across on how unfair he is being by letting the hand previously on his hair, travel to his neck, while my other, the one still exploring his insides grabs hold of his lungs. A little pressure never killed anyone. Or did it?
This is getting soon. Don't worry I'm an artist. One with exceptional talent. I bring you to you're feet. You're taller than me, but you'll slouch. You've lost a good amount of blood. You'll live, at least for a bit. I drag you to the merry go around. It's close by. Did you ever play on one of these Hiro? I say. I never did. He can't reply to me in words. His eyes are rapidly loosing life. I lift you on to it. He was heavy. It's all dead weight now (ha). I'll let you ride once more Hiro don't worry. Just because you're older now doesn't mean you can't. I think the troll passed out. I allow myself a look and sure enough there she is face deep in her own spew, puke. It's utterly revolting. Trolls will be trolls. The kids can't possibly piss themselves much more. The little girl in already crying behind her twin brother. The boy looks positively petrified no doubt he's shit in his pants by now. Oh look little Matthew is wailing. That's what I heard. The background singer. Now don't worry kids, you're next just need to finish with Mr. Hiro here first! I smile delighted at what is taking place. Hiro has been so complacent. Oh yes, Hiro.
My hands are slick with his life's blood. It's so pretty oh so very pretty. I stab my precious blade into his calf. All he can utter is a strained grunt. How disappointing. Climbing on top of the merry-go-round I delve into his abdomen rummaging for his entrails. Pulling out the long intestine I begin to wrap it around the handle bars. How fun. There's only four but it's long enough. Only just. I make sure they're secure. Don't want you flying off now do we. The short intestine that i'll use to wrap around your torso, loosely. Once, twice, thrice. It's more than enough. I grab my precious dagger and fling it at the twin boy. It lands in his chest cavity. Smile now. The game's not over yet. The canvas that is Hiro, the representation that is he, will soon be complete. I say. The boy doubles over, blood trickled from his pale lips, flowing carelessly down as he collapsed. No sound escaped him. Such a shame I would have loved to skin him. Carve off his skin from his arms and undeveloped legs and feed them to his sister. They'd always be together. Always.
Grabbing one of the handles I push with all the strength in me, in these arms. Round and round the merry go round goes. Hiro spinning along with it. He fails to fly off. The remaining organs taking flight through the gaps between the rope that is the small intestine. They take flight, blood splattering everywhere in their wake. The liver hitting the troll's behind. Matthew barely dodging an incoming pancreas. Killjoy. I give the contraption one more spin, blood coloring me pretty, just like him.
It's a shame, only I'll be able to recall such moments, to be an eternal witness to this. I can hear Hiro's son wailing for his father. I'd wish he'd shut up. It was only enjoyable in the beginning. His symphony is not up to far with his father's or those of his predecessors. Too high pitched. Too childlike. He is missing something.
Who's next? Dear Matthew, the troll or the remaining twin. Who should be reunited first? Hmm. I can't decide. It seems dear Matthew is brave, or overly enthusiastic to be the next player in my little game. How cute. If I ever fell into the world of pedophilia i'd prefer little boys such as him. Sure his pants are beyond pissed but he still wants a whirl at the wonderland I bring. I run full speed at him, my decision made for me. There's no reason to think, to waste more time on this. I've got a troll and a little girl waiting for me.
Matthew boy! I say. Your'e next. Jerking his arm upwards, bringing him up all the while. I drag him over to the slide, but not before retrieving my knife. Throwing him gently, roughly, to the top. He hits his head, haha, sliding face down on it. Now a sound made besides that of the squeak of the slide. That is until I stab my knife into his back and drag it downwards along his spine. Ever wonder what a child's spine looks like. I don't for along as I rip it out of it's encasing his body limping forwards after he voices his immense agony in a thunderous call, a song of immense altitude startling the birds in the nearby trees. Rustling of leaves can be heard as they take flight frightened for their lives by the unmethodical cry.
He is competent it would seem, but no more songs will leave his chaste lips. Not now not ever. They are muted for now and all eternity. He is but a corpse. The light no longer mingling, alight, in his traumatized eyes. All that's left now is to tend to the young girls. I've waited long enough, the troll will get the make over she's dreamed of since her birth. No longer will she cry her eyes dry. Her repulsive little eyes no longer will suffer from drought. Her hair will no longer will be forced to endure through villainous treatment. They will finally be at rest, she will die.
I waltz on over to her. My walk full of determination. I can feel the young girl's fear as she gazes as me with her peril ridden orbs of hazel. I tilt my head sideways and send a wink her way. She trembles. Drawing more into herself. Her brother's corpse long forgotten. Don't worry you'll join him soon, I just have one more thing to do. I walk past her, I have something to accomplish.
My eyes were made to erase all that is ugly. It is through that belief, that quote, that thought that I live by. Merging that which I see with my eyes with that which i see through my minds eye to create beautiful artwork throughout the world. My fun is wondrous. It brings out the beautiful the world holds potential for. I serve as a sort of catalyst. For it all. Through my hands the world gains more and more intense beauty each and every day.
It's what I am in the process of doing right now. This is one of my larger pieces. I wouldn't say my best, but it's close. Back to work there's no rest, no time to think, only to be.
i grab her by the collar her shirt an unappealing shade of pink. It makes me think of pepto and puke. Her face, is covered in her upchuck. Chunks of retched food inhabiting her nostrils. How did she not drown? I can't help but wonder out loud. The sight is outright disgusting. She has failed to come to even now. I wonder if i killed her. I drag her a few feet away only to wipe her face clean on the ground. The tiny scratches to her face serving to wake her up screaming. Annoying little bitch she is. Shut up. I say through gritted teeth to her face. The close up, nauseating.
What to do with you. Her voice a melody in her sing song voice. She taps a finger to her chin, in thought, as the unsightly girl tries to escape even as she trembles. Coward.
You seemed quite fond of that phone. Hand it over. Her voice demanding. The girl thinks for a fraction of a second on whether she should. She hesitated. You don't hesitate when Natsuki Kruger asked you for something. You do it. You hand it over. You don't deny her. A fist connects with her acne plagued face. Zits popping as her jaw disconnects from the pure force of the blow. Tears explode from her beady eyes. Engulfing her pain ridden face. It wasn't over, not yet. She uppercutted the girl cleansing her fist. Hand over your phone now. She insisted. She didn't hesitate, not this time. She handed over the contraption.
I bring you close now. She doesn't know what to think. The fear in her eyes, brings me to a new high. Before you know what hit you I push you roughly, violently, gently to the bench. She collapses onto it. Before she can think though, I'm on her, on you. My hand on you chin, the other holding your phone securely in my hand. I inch closer to you, to your lips, only to wrench your chin done forcefully. It opens wider than it should have, but then again it's dislocated. I shove your precious phone down your throat, erupting in uncontrolled laughter in your face, your countenance. You're choking, can't swallow. (haha) I thrust your jaw upwards. A sickening sound resonates. But you can't breathe. It's alright don't worry I'll help you. I grace you with a mask of assurance, before stabbing into your trachea, slicing through it and puncturing your lungs. I lied. I say a beaming smile apparent on my face. Blood is coating every inch of me. I can't help but be excited by it all. I feel it coursing through the fabric of my clothing. It's an exulting feeling, the best kind of shower. Your eyes dim. A wave of sorrow threatens to overwhelm me, until the cry of the little girl breaks through my cloud of sorrow hitting me with a sense of elation. There's one left. More for me to embellish. I will make it grand, magnificent.
I caught off the troll's leg. A clean cut. Letting it rest upon my shoulder as I stalk to the young girl. The last survivor of my Chaotic piece. Chaos at a Playground. hmm..Playground of Chaos. I can't decide. What to choose.. It can wait. I've got my last..guest, waiting for me. It's not polite to make others wait. That's what I was told, what I was meant to believe as a child but then again they said fairy tales did exist. That happiness was not just a word. I have yet to experience it. Only false feelings of immense feeling. Euphoria. That's as close as I get.
Little girl what's your name. I say. "E-Elizabeth." she stutters out. I expected no response, only melodious screams as I cut into her face, and yet here she was responding to me, answering my questions. As I demanded. What a magnificent girl. So smart so young. Maybe it was time to ascertain an apprentice? I think not. Good girl you are Elizabeth. Such a typical name for one such as you and what dear say was your brother's name? Edward? Elliot? Robert? A game of charades we play. I'm going to win if the look in her eyes is any indication. "His name was Robert. How did you know?" Her eyes are riddled with shock. But she fucked up. I'm the one who asks the questions. I scream into her face grabbing her chubby cheeks in my hand squeezing them together her lips pursing at the action.
"I'msorry!" She pleads her eyes filled with tears once more. Kids are so annoying. I slap her across the face. Shut up Li or I will force your brother's skin down your throat. I'll carve out his skin and cut off his fingers. Are you hungry? No? Too bad that would be your dinner. So shut up. I'm serious. I can't take more of this incessant whining. She stops her tears. She tries to be brave. She can't though, she's a kid. They can only be afraid. I wait until she closes her eyes to try and regain her composure I would think, before pulling out my knife once again and cutting off her head. The pail they used to play lying next to her corpse. Her head still in my grasp. The troll's leg mere feet away. It tried to get away. It got further than it's original owner.
I turn her face from side to side, besides the snot, it looks alright. It's missing something though. A moment later, slashes decorate her face. My blade never slipping from my grip. I love you so. I whisper to it. I position her decapitated head on the pail. it's practically full of sand. Her head resembles a trophy of sorts. As it lays on it's 'pedestal'. I grab the leg, that lay forgotten behind me. and impale it into the sand by the girl's corpse, behind her head. Much like a flag of claim.
It is done. At long last it has come to an end. Accomplishment embraces me. Euphoria pumping into my mind, my body, my soul, over a hundred miles an hour. I need a smoke.
Pulling out a cigarette box she took out her last smoke, blade still in hand even as she dug through her pockets to find her dragon engraved zippo. Blood dripped from her, every inch of her drenched in the substance of life. She could care less as she managed to light her solitary cigarette, inhaling it's toxic fumes.
AN: I was going to make this just one really long and infuriating one shot however I change my mind haha so i'll be posting chaps as I go over it all and rewrite some things that, to put it simply, piss me off.