A/N: Well this here would be the beginning/prologue to a story idea of mine. The point of this little thing here is to see whether anyone would actually be interested in this story or not, so if you liked it and want me to continue let me know so I can decide on whether I should or not. Well, on to the prologue now.
~ Sabet
Disclaimer: I do not own -man, if I did I wouldn't be writing fanfictions, now would I?
Rating: I'm going to make this T-rated for now. (By the way, if you think this alone needs to be higher rated let me know, I'm not very good with that kind of thing.)
Darkness enveloped the room that took on the similar qualities of the sterile room of a hospital, with its slender barred bed, multiple medical materials, and plain simple details. With no windows within the room it appeared to be stained a dark grey from the darkness that filled almost every corner, the only light being that which came from the small opening between the door and the frame of it. Silence, along with the faint sound of beeping, was the only thing that accompanied the dreary atmosphere which filled the small room. But nothing was able to disturb the young occupant of the bed and small room. Pale skin was hidden beneath plain linen sheets and chestnut brown locks of hair. Dark lashes laid against rounded cheeks of a cherubic face full of childish innocence.
Slender tubes were attached to the face of the child with two pieces of tape, providing the child with oxygen as he lay unconscious. His chest slowly rose and fell with each intake of air, filling his lungs with a slight rasping sound and then releasing it with a sigh. Several other tubes lay against his wrist, all of which had punctured his fragile flesh long ago. Liquids dripped from the pouches of medical substances that hung on the hooks of the lean metal medical stands, and slowly slid through the tubes down into his unmoving body.
Months had gone by and the small form hadn't moved an inch since the last procedure that had robbed him of his consciousness, leaving him in this comatose state. Although his unconsciousness provided no resistance to his captors they made no move to do anything more to him, just leaving him to rest in that drab room all alone.
Although he was usually all alone in the room he was under constant watch even without the people being there. The cameras situated within the room enabled the dark skinned people to watch over him every hour of the day, and some of them took turns watching the young boy within the security room. One of the captors, a young girl, was there a majority of the time. He interested her in ways no one else could understand, and most of her time was spent watching him in that dark security room, which would only be lit up by the light of the numerous screens, all of which would be positioned on the boy at some angle to ensure she could not miss a thing.
Whether he be just sleeping peacefully, or even fitfully as he did at times, she was there watching him. Her companions wondered if she cared for the boy, or if she was just simply worried about the results of the numerous procedures and what it would do to him, if it would even work. So far, there had been no signs that they were achieving their goal, but that had not kept them from continuing. It only had made them work harder. But their ambitions brought him to this comatose state, resulting in them pausing in their procedures to let his body rest.
Soft golden eyes settled on the screen focused on the young boy's covered face, watching every slight movement of his body, every twitch. The black and white screen cast a glowing light upon the smooth flesh of her rounded face, her luminous eyes gaining a predatory look as she watched the boy intently.
Some might think by the way she acted that she was obsessed with him, but it was simply a matter of interest. Not only was he different in so many ways from her, but even from normal humans, especially when it came to his will and mental capabilities. Even for a child, he had an extraordinary will to live, to keep going. So powerful it was that when they had first captured their prey he, unlike most people his age, refused to give in and fought with all his might, and never did give in to the thought of death. No matter how many times he was almost forced to face it. On several occasions they had to bind his wrist and legs to the bars of the bed and sometimes even had to drug him, though they avoided doing the latter.
The young female grimaced as she recalled the many times her accomplices had to hold the young boy down as he would thrash about and scream, his eyes opened wide and filled with a mixture of terror and anger. Every time those eyes met hers as she would climb over him with the needle in her hand, the vial filled with a sedative so they could control the boy. His pain and anger over his own helplessness emanated from him, and as she sat atop him and felt his body go limp beneath her after she would inject the liquid into his writhing body, watched his eyes lose their glow of ire and dread, she could almost feel his emotions pouring into her. Slowly they would fill her to the core, and whether what she felt was just sympathy or his actual pain was a mystery to her, but the tears always came.
Beads of crimson would roll down from her honey eyes, providing a luster of scarlet red for her dark skin. They would fall continuously until she would will them away and wipe the substance from her eyes and cheeks, although it would only smear it across her countenance.
It always amazed her how this young boy could make her like this, especially since she usually was sadistic, and in the eyes of many, twisted. Just as the others in her company, she found delight in the pain in others and sometimes even enjoyed it herself. A sadist and a masochist by nature, this way for many years and still to this very day, but when it came to this boy it was different.
She wasn't sure if she was glad or disgusted or even angry at herself for this, or even the small boy, for she could be any of those. Glad for the new feelings she developed and experienced, disgusted by her display of sympathy and sorrow and care, or angry for developing a possible weakness in this boy. But yet, she felt nothing but numbness and an interest in the young child.
A sigh left her lips as she scraped her teeth against the soft flesh, causing a small drop of blood to bead against her lip. She wasted no time in scooping the liquid up with her tongue, finding delight as she tasted the salty-sweet substance. As she leaned back in her chair and kicked her feet up onto the table in front of her, she placed the pad of her pointer finger against her cut lip, tapping the small wound gently as she looked at the small boy on the screens of the numerous TVs.
Her eyes flitted from one screen to the next, taking in every detail each angle provided her with. Finally after checking each and every one her eyes settled on the one angled to show her the young boy's face and chest. She watched his chest rise and fall with each breath, and turned the volume of the cameras up a bit so she could hear his faint, gentle breathing.
She wondered how long he would be stuck in his comatose state. Although she was bothered by the procedures they had to do to him, she didn't want to waste any more time waiting for him to awaken.
A soft knocking on the door made her lift her eyes to it, just before it opened. In stepped in one of her closest accomplice, one of which who understood her odd fascination with the young boy. In a way, he too found an interest like her's in the boy, but it was not as intense, just a faint appeal and interest. He was more set on what the child was needed for, not really who he was or what he was capable of.
"Any signs that he will wake up soon?" His silken voice chased away the silence of the room, and a sigh soon followed his words.
"Nope, not even one." She said in a soft, bored tone, tilting her head slightly as she glanced at him.
Another sigh left the man as he pulled a pack of cigarettes from his coat pocket, lifting the lid to grab one before tapping it back in with his pointer and middle finger. He snatched his lighter from his pants pocket and languidly lit the long cancer stick.
"Adam will be quite irritated if the boy does not wake up soon. I wouldn't be surprised if he just has us continue on with the procedures soon, whether the boy is conscious or not." He said, his tone calm despite the fact he was becoming impatient as well.
She shook her head, bothered by her colleague's impatience and lack of sympathy for the boy she cared for.
"You know he can't do that. If we start these procedures before he is at least out of this comatose state we could easily lose our little pawn." She said and looked back to the screens, watching as the boy's body slightly twitched.
The dark skinned man sighed once again, and slowly he leaned back against the wall and followed her gaze to the screens. He watched with her as the boy slept, seemingly peaceful.
"We are all becoming impatient. There is only so much time we have to do this, and you know that." He said calmly, his equally as golden eyes drifting over to her small figure.
"Of course I know that, but what do you want me to do? My abilities can only do so much, you know." She said as she turned her head to meet his gaze, her eyes glowing with a slight irritation.
He inhaled on his cigarette and slowly pulled the long cancer stick out of his mouth before tilting his head up as he exhaled, releasing the smoke slowly.
"Yes, I know, but as I said before, Adam is becoming very impatient and you know that is never a good thing." He said as he watched the mist of grey smoke float to the ceiling as slim tendrils.
"Well, if my intuition is anything to go off of then we shouldn't have too much longer to wait for him to awaken, and then we can begin our procedures again." She mumbled as she fiddled with the sleeve of her shirt.
"Are you just saying that so I will leave the subject alone," he began, "Or do you actually mean that?"
"I actually mean that." She mumbled, a bit of agitation laced into her tone.
He sighed out once again and walked over to the young girl, pulling out a chair and rolling it over to her side so he could sit down beside her.
"Explain to me what draws you to this boy so much. I admit he is interesting, but only faintly so. "The dark skinned man muttered, lifting his gaze from the numerous TV screens to his younger looking –but certainly not younger- colleague.
"I cannot really explain it." She said as she leaned back into her chair, looking almost thoughtful as her eyes stayed glued to the TV screens. "It's just something that is. Like the relationship with predator and prey. It's purely instinct, not because of some grudge or forethought reason, it just is."
Her eyes never drifted over to him, but she still could still see his features twist into an amused expression from out of her peripheral vision.
"What's with that look of yours?" She said with an edge to her words.
"I find it amusing that you used the relationship between predator and prey to describe your... Relationship, I suppose, with the boy." He said before he brought his cigarette back to his parted lips.
"Well it is the only sort of relationship I know of from experience, and know you know of too, so it was only sensible that I used it to explain it." She said as her eyes took on a sort of predatory look as she stared more intently at the sleeping boy.
He breathed out a sigh, once again exhaling and releasing hazy tendrils of smoke from his mouth.
"Ah, that is true. But it still amuses me." He uttered as his eyes once again drifted over to the possessive girl.
She huffed slightly and tapped her pointer finger against one of the buttons on the keyboard in front of her, and the cameras all took on different angles. This time her eyes focused on the one angled to show his face. Her eyes took in each of his features, going from his small nose and his slightly plump lips, then traveling to gaze at his closed lids.
She sighed and leaned back into her seat once more, hearing it creak slightly at the added pressure to the back of it. From where she sat she could reach one of the screens, and she gently traced his small rounded face.
"He's dreaming now." She murmured before letting her hand fall as she leaned forward slightly, pulling her knees up to rest her chin on them. "No, he's having a nightmare."
As if to prove her words were true, the small boy began to writhe slightly beneath the covers, tossing his head back and forth as small whimpers left his tightly closed lips.
The man stood up, his eyes containing a bit of relief and curiosity. "So he is out of that comatose state now. I have to tell Adam." He said.
When the young girl nodded in agreement he began to walk over to the door, planning on notifying the man in charge of the awakening of their patient.
As his fingers closed around the door knob a sudden scream pierced the air, disrupting the previous silence that had begun to settle over them once again. Neither jumped at the sudden sound, but both looked with suspicion at the screens angled on the now thrashing young boy.
His brown hair was sprawled out beneath his head, his brows were furrowed and his features contorted into an expression of agony. Cries of pain left him, but the cause remained unknown. Although he was a child, a simple nightmare didn't seem too believable to them as the cause of his unconscious, frightened behavior. But it was still possible.
They watched as he still thrashed about, until eventually his left arm was exposed as the blankets that had covered him fell to the ground. His left hand, with its darkened scarlet flesh, glowed with a white light produced from the cross embedded in the skin atop his hand. To most the sight would be awe inspiring, but to them, it seemed more likely to be the first sign that their procedures were failing, that his body, his mind, and even his soul could be rejecting what they had tried to force upon him.
The young girl's eyes filled with concern and she looked over to the man still at the door. Their eyes met for only a brief moment before they were both rushing out of the room and down the hall. The sound of their footsteps echoed around them each time their feet hit the hard marble floors, and the fluorescent lights cast their darting shadows over the wall.
When they made it to the room the young girl flung open the door and the two of them wasted no time in moving to the boy's side. While the man grabbed the boy's arms and legs and strapped them to the bed to keep him from thrashing about any longer, the female gently caressed the boy's face, watching as his face twisted into numerous expressions of pain.
"He'll be completely awake soon I'm sure. But that does not matter," She began, looking up at the man as he looked back at her. "He is rejecting it, just like we thought. We need to complete this, now." She said firmly.
He nodded and began to pull back the levers over the wheels of the bed that would allow them to roll the bed out of the room. As he did the young female touched the boy's face gently, watching his closed lids flutter slightly before snapping open.
Grey orbs the color of a winter sky stared up at her, filled with the fear and pain that consumed him completely. Once again, she felt that rush of feelings, but willed the tears away before they could begin to fall. This was no time for tears, only for actions, and actions that needed to be taken. She walked away from him to help her accomplice in pulling the bed from the room, rolling it down the hall as the boy twisted and pulled on his bindings.
It seemed like he tried to speak, but the pain was too intense for him to make out even one audible word. So instead he lay panting with agony as he writhed, pulling continually on the ties at his wrist and ankles.
Tears beaded against the rims of his eyes and soon spilled over, trailing down his pale cheeks as he lifted his head, dazedly looking around as they pulled the bed into one rooms before stopping. His hazy eyes watched them close the door before he looked around, then realizing where they were.
He began to struggle more, though his attempts to get free were futile. Many times he had been forced into this room, always when they wanted to continue their procedures, but this was one of the only times he was able to freely move his body for they had been rushing to get him here so much they forgot to sedate him, or maybe they didn't even need to this time.
He fell back against the bed, letting a small cry escape him as they closed over him. The young girl took his wrist into her one hand while her other hand held a scalpel. The sharp blade glinted dully in the light as she brought it down to his wrist. Sparing one last glance up at his tortured gaze, she drew the blade over his pulse point, hearing him cry out at the pain of his skin being broken by the metal.
In seconds, blood began to fall from the wound she created. It quickly created a dark puddle of liquid on the floor as it dripped down from his overturned wrist. The rusty scent filled the air, creating a tension between the two beings completing the procedure, but their minds were set on what they need to do and the intoxicating scent did not faze them.
Slowly the elder male walked over to where the dark skinned girl had been, holding a vial of dark liquid within his hand. To the child, it looked like blood, but he couldn't be sure because of how dark it was.
The dark skinned man grabbed his wrist, watching as the blood of the boy dripped slowly down his arm. A flash of hunger appeared in his honey eyes before he brought the vial of dark liquid to the boy's wrist, slowly tipping the glass until the dark substance poured down into the open wound.
For a moment the boy went silent and still, seemingly paralyzed, before his stormy eyes widened and a scream tore its way from his throat. Pain surged through his small form, causing it to jerk and convulse at the painful sensation that coursed through him.
The man watched him for only a moment before pouring more of the liquid onto the wound, watching as the substance was absorbed into the wound the girl created. After the liquid was gone his honey eyes stayed trained on the wound, waiting for the reaction that had to come unless they were to fail once again.
When it did he sighed, watching curiously as the wound was closed by the dark substance as it became solid, creating a crimson luster for the puckered scar that remained on his wrist. It was working this time. They did not know the reason for their success but were glad nonetheless and quickly went to finish the procedure.
They created three more wounds – one on each of his ankles, and one on his other wrist – each of which was sealed by the dark substance that was poured over them. The pain that had surged through him with each cut made the young boy weak and he no longer thrashed or writhed about upon the bed, but instead simply laid silently as he stared up at the ceiling, being blinded by the fake lighting.
His body felt heavy from the loss of blood, his mind was barely able of even creating coherent thoughts, and his vision became hazy every so often. His wrist and ankles were sore from the wounds and all he could do was hope it was over when they began to back away from him
From the sides of the bed the dark skinned and golden eyed man and girl watched the child, looking over their work and making sure it was perfected. When they found no flaws the young girl looked to the man and nodded before grabbing a small decorative dagger with a twisted blade from the small table beside the hospital-like bed. When he returned to her side he held a necklace in his hands. A diamond shaped vial hung from the velvet covered necklace, holding a black, thick looking liquid. A small cork kept the vial closed but the man pulled it out as he approached the young girl.
She took the necklace from his hand and held the tiny vial between her pointer finger and thumb on her right hand, tilting the blade of the dagger in her hand onto its side before she lifted the vial above it, pouring two drops of the liquid onto the metal before closing it again with the small cork. As the cork closed the small vial, the two drops of the dark substance stretched and spread over the blade until it was glistening with an ominous black sheen.
The girl spared one last glance down at the boy, looking into his weary fearful eyes as she brushed back his damp locks from his face. She bent down and let her lips touch his cheek gently before she straightened out again, taking a moment to bask in the peaceful atmosphere around them before she plunged the blade into the skin above his left eye.
His lips parted into a silent scream as she dug the blade deeper into his flesh, watching as blood began to pour from the newly made wound, staining his dark locks with a deep scarlet. She felt a pang of guilt, but simply ignored the emotion tugging at her heart and pulled the blade down his skin, listening as a sickening ripping sort of sound reverberated in the room as a path of opened flesh was revealed.
She pulled the blade down over his eyebrow, pausing only briefly before jerking it out of his skin until only a bit of the blade still remained within his flesh. She then dragged it down over his closed lid, watching as more blood began to ooze from the pale looking boy. A cry left him and his chest heaved as she drove the blade deeper into his skin once it had passed over his eye, splitting the flesh of his cheek. Down it went once again before she twisted the blade, pulling it now to the right before jerking it down his chin in a curve.
She quickly extracted the blade from within his skin, only to plunge it back in once again in his cheek, this time more in the direction of his nose. She dragged the blade across the other mark, ending the smaller, but deep cut a few centimeters from the edge of the split skin of the other wound.
Slowly she backed away from him then, dropping the dagger as she watched the young boy, waiting for the sign that would notify them of their success.
It appeared only seconds later. They watched with smiles upon their faces as a thick liquid began to fill the wounds from the inside, slowly closing them and creating a deep, jagged scar. The other scars upon his body slowly faded as one more appeared. Above where the wound had first been created, where the blade first touched the skin of his face, sprouted the image of a star, painted in blood. The wounds the blood sprung up from were not as deep, but the star shaped wound formed into a pink scar that was as swollen and jagged as the others.
As the scar appeared upon his forehead the boy's eyes rolled into the back of his head before his lids closed, and slowly his hair faded from a chestnut brown to a pure white. They watched as once again, he passed out, but this time from the success of their procedures.
The two standing beside the bed smiled maliciously as they stared at the scars upon his face. They were the mark of their success, the mark of the plan that had been formulated long ago. The mark that would someday ensue perfection in the corrupted world, and it was sealed by the mark of the star, the pentacle, the mark of evil.