Ok, chapter 1...So I don't hear s**t about it later, this story doesn't start off with the main characters of Kuroshitsuji, and it might be a few chapters before they show.

Anyhow, please review :).

Please note that the asterisks are a change in character.

I don't own Kuroshitsuji, just my characters.

Capture the Flag, Attempt Number One

Freya

Hunting, and being hunted, in a large crowd certainly had its advantages and disadvantages. An advantage- your hunters cannot keep in sight of each other. Disadvantage- your movement is restricted, and you can give yourself away by moving too fast or acting unlike the crowd.

However, certain types of crowds where better than others- crowds that were wild and busy made it easier to counter your hunters, so you can reflect a take-down to match the goings-on of the crowd. So vital not to draw attention.

And there so no better crowd than a Mardi Gras Festival.

The darkness of the alley was quickly coming to an end, its mouth flushed orange and red with the flickering light of torches. The dull reverberation of the crowd was slowly mounting to a roar and the scent of roasting meat, people and most predominately, alcohol floated down the alley.

I emerged from darkness and all the shadows of the sensations suddenly crashed into me. I sneezed, so strong was the scent of liquor. The crowd was all bright colored cloaks and party masks.

So I would stand out. Thankfully, the owners of market-stalls were more than willing to provide.

I approached, skirting the main body of the crowd. I hung back slightly, and listened as the merchants shouted out their prices. I sighed- they were asking way too much for a bit a thin cloth and paper. I discretely grabbed a mask and a cloak, and slipped away.

The mask was a black, its shape raven-like, black feathers lining its edges. The cloak was of light cotton and a deep, wine red. The cloak concealed everything except my height; now I could move in the crowd without too much attention being drawn to me.

I looked out over the crowd; in the center of the mass of people stood a small church, its bell tower scraping the night sky. Fluttering in the tower windows, a stark white flag, a crimson cross embossed upon it. Such a taunting target, but reaching it, not so much.

Suddenly, a man broke from the crowd, and began to follow as I wandered around. My heart rate began to rise, the precursor to the kill, a burning desire. Somehow, I kept myself from faltering; I wanted so badly to look back to make sure that the man was still following. But I knew he still lingered.

He thought he was the wolf, and I, the rabbit. Too bad- whenever does the rabbit chase the wolf? When the wolf wears a rabbit's skin.

But no matter- the chasie always had the advantage.

I forced my way into a small group, of which for extremely…active. At least six of them were engaged some manner of a fight.

As I entered the circle, the man sped up and grabbed hold of my shoulder. As he did, I twisted in his grasp and launched a brutal kick. His knee buckled with a brutal crack. As he lurched forward, suddenly top-heavy, I leapt back, following up with a kick to the face. Blood erupted from his broken nose.

"You bitch!" he barked, which earned several odd looks from the surrounding crowd. That could be a problem.

I grinned, "Come on now, you are no fun at all." Then I clenched my fist and punched him in the nose. I felt more bones crunch underneath my hand, and I knew at once that it was a killing blow, as shards of bone pierced his brain. I heard his heart hitch once, then fall silent.

His body hit the ground with a dull thud as I turned and walked away. I knew I had more pursuers- but until they made obvious themselves, there was nothing I could do.

The bell tower called to me, yet I knew I shouldn't approach. But then again, an approach would draw them out. Absentmindedly, I began to chew my nails as I contemplated different approaches. It was blessedly dark at the back of the church and people avoided the area.

Except for three people. The battle-blood rose, and then there was no thought. Only action.

Then the world was red, and two were dead and one was running, and I chased. How I loved the chase, the chase… His panicked heartbeat, so sweet, so enticing…Then sharp claws tore through flesh, hot blood, screams…

A flash of light…pain, such incredible pain…then darkness.

Agito

Pain, in both my arms, in my shoulders, elbows and wrists. I arched my back, in an attempt to gain any slack in sleeves which pinned my arms to my chest. As I did, I felt the leather strap biting into my back, reminding me of just how tightly I was bound. So I stretched my cramping legs, bound together at the ankles and knees by leather straps.

The all-too familiar sense of panic swept over me, my helplessness once again presented to me. I found myself struggling against the straight-jacket, and I felt blood dripping through my fingers as scabs were ripped off against the rough canvas. Fresh bruises would appear on my legs later.

Slowly, my panic subsided.

"Well, well, my friend. How you doing today?" A voice asked, and I looked over. Sitting in the darkest recess of the small room, sat a white rabbit. I could only look, the muzzle preventing any form of speech whatsoever.

But this was no ordinary animal- its eyes held a predatory look about them, and where the whites of its eyes were supposed to be, black. Jet-black.

Once I would have been angered at its appearance. But now, nothing. I had wasted enough trying to harm it, free or not. And as long as it was around, I would never be free. It had gone to great lengths to make sure of that. As I sat there, it began to rant, about anything and everything.

I closed my eyes, hoping it would take its leave soon. Gradually, the ranting lowered to droning, and droning to whispering. Whispering was the most maddening. Its voice edged closer, closer, closer…until it was right in my ears, whispering.

Light flooded the room, red and orange all I saw as I kept my eyes closed. I knew who they were, and I had no reason to look at them.

"Look, he has got his hands bleedin' again," one voice spoke; I quickly looked around. Of course, the beastie was gone.

"No need to worry about that," the other doctor said, as he moved into the room. He reached behind me, and detached the chain that ran from the steel band around my neck to the ring set in the wall. Then he undid the straps on my legs.

They each grabbed an arm and hauled me to my feet. I moaned, as the pain of the movement added to the excruciating pain there already was.

I could barely put any weight on my legs, not strong enough to stand. Not that it mattered- I wouldn't be standing for long.

As much as I dreaded what was to come, there was nothing I could do.

Within five minutes, I was laid out on a bed, wrists bound to each of the posts by the leather straps of the jacket. Both ankles, were, to bound in a similar way.

I slowly pulled against the bonds, to no avail. There never was.

Out in the hall, there were three voices, the two doctors and a another.

The third voice suddenly rose in volume, and a stranger looked into the room; a brutal smile overcame him. "Ah, young…Perfect."

Freya

I snarled, deep and low in my throat. For a moment, my attackers balked, but then resumed their assault. One would think that facing off with a huge black wolf would send even the hardiest of men running. But these were not normal men- these were church men, men of god.

And they were more than willing to die for that god.

My claws scraped against the stone floor of the cellar as I lunged forward, only to be snapped to a stop by the chain wrapped around my throat. I landed heavily, and whined, trying not to place any weight on my injured leg.

Bastard shot me…I'd unintentionally transformed, an effect of an inexperienced demon gripped by blood-lust, during the slaughter of the lesser church men. As one of them had fled, I chased him and, when I killed him, someone had shot me. And as I lay there in pain, had taken me…somewhere. And chained me up.

Great. Just great. Now I was trapped, stuck in animal form, facing off against two men with whips.

A reverend, by his clothing, twirled the whip; the look on his face was dead serious. "Abomination, suffer before the men of god and repent." Before I'd even seen it move, the tip had sliced through the flesh of my muzzle. Then the whip cracked. Then it lashed back, slicing across my right eye. Instantly, my vision was stained red, and pain like I'd never felt before exploded.

The whipping lasted almost an hour.

Finally, they left. Blood splattered the walls; I could smell it. My blood. It ran into my mouth and my eyes.

The small room was filled with a quiet mewling, a terrible sound. Then I realized that it was me, and I tried to silence it, to no avail.

Every inch of my body had at least one slash, each one burning. I lay on my side, unable to move.

But slowly, ever so slowly, the pain faded as the wounds began to heal, severed skin and muscle began to stitch itself back together. After several minutes (or was it hours?), all the slices were healed, or at least, not bleeding.

When it didn't utterly kill me to move, I rolled onto my belly and placed my feet underneath. I rose to my feet with brutal slowness. Standing there, I was hit by a wave of dizziness, and was damn close to going back down.

And if that happened, I was not sure that I could get back up. I slumped up against the wall, to await the time when I could walk without staggering.

When the vertigo finally passed, I tested the length of the chain. Almost eight feet. The room was small, maybe ten by ten, and the end of the chain was embedded in one of the corners opposing the doors. Between me, the door, and the opposing wall was two feet.

There was no furniture, just an unforgiving cobblestone floor and walls. And almost complete darkness, expect for the light seeping in under the door.

With nothing else to do, I laid back down, muzzle resting on my paws. Bored out of my goddamned mind, I dug my claws into the grout between the cobblestones. I watched ebony tips dig into the mortar.

Then in the distance, I heard a door creak open. I huffed, and rolled back onto my side. No need to draw any more attention to myself than necessary.

Footsteps drew closer, then voices, however, I could not make out much. There were at least three people. Then I caught the scent of blood, and other bodily fluids, and leather. I didn't give a damn about the others; that one was the one that had my attention.

The lock clicked and the door swung open; the scent flowed into the room unhindered, so strong it brought on an almost instant wave of nausea and squeezed my eyes shut. I shuddered as feet shuffled into the small room- they took great care to keep out of range and I could feel their eyes on me.

"You sure it will not harm 'im?" one asked.

"No. It cannot reach him." The other replied. A chain rattled, and two sets of footsteps exited the room. And they made sure to lock the heavy door behind them.

Curiosity certainly peeked, I contained it, keeping dead still, simply to make sure he wasn't dangerous. I had had my fare share tricksters.

So I analyzed everything I could from his cent- deriving anything, and everything. It was definitely a he- males had a strong, musky scent. His main emotion was depression, was bitter smell. There was also a buried anger, a sharp thing buried underneath waves of depression. As for the others, those concerned me greatly. Because I didn't know the reason for their being.

I lifted my head and stared at the person crouched in the corner. No, not crouching. Cowering. Knees drawn up to the chest, arms wrapped around his chest. I could not see his face.

No, that wasn't right either. His legs are pinned together at the ankles and knees, and his arms, their position up too high, too close to his armpits. It was no natural position. A straight-jacket.

As I watched, he jerked, like he was woken up from a nightmare. The smell of pain filled the air. He slowly stretched out his legs, and I could see everything. A muzzle and a collar, on which a chain was looped onto a ring set in the corner. The red-brown of drying blood showed through the grey canvas of the jacket, where canvas was pulled taunt over his hands, pinning them to his side. But there was more blood, lower.

Before I could stop myself, I growled. Suddenly, his eyes were on me, brilliant, summer-sky blue in the dark. But any beauty they had was marred by the fear I saw in them.

Agito

A pair of eyes, each one as large man's fist. Pitch-black pupils were surrounded by a blazing orange ring, a combination of colors like the dieing sunset, brilliant orange fading to yellow, as variable corona. However, a ring of blue surrounded the ring of colors, navy blue nesting next to the burnt yellow and fading to a blue so pale, it was almost grey.

And teeth, huge white teeth, at least four inches long. They harbored an uncanny glow, wickedly sharp crescent moons in the dark.

All I could see were those eyes and those teeth. All I could hear was the growling like thunder echoing in the room.

I could feel the panic building- what if it could reach me?

Suddenly the growling silenced, and those glowing teeth were hidden as whatever-it-was stopped snarling. But those eyes still stared.

I lowered my gaze, so as not to provoke it. I pushed as far back into the corner as I could, and once again drew my legs up to my chest. But I reconsidered; kicking it would certainly goad such a confidant animal into attacking.

Death was preferable to this. But what if it didn't kill, only ripped me open? Then I would face a slow, painful death by infection. But that death was faster than the one I was living now. Not that what I existed in was living.

So I did nothing.

"What a painful way to die, torn apart by el lobo." I glanced to my left; sitting less an a foot away was the rabbit, once again taunting.

Then I occurred to me; maybe the other beast was a hallucination as well? I was too frightful of it to test that theory.

A great sigh from the…wolf…stole my attention and the sound of movement and the clicking of claws. Then the chain rattled; I stole a look at the beast and the glowing eyes were gone.

At least beasts did not whip you.

Freya

As I watched him, his emotions swung from fear, to contemplation, to panic- at that point, his stare was locked onto a certain point, like he was seeing something. Whatever it was, it brought on very strong emotion.

Eventually, the storm of emotion settled into nothingness. And somehow, that was worse, even though I still owned my own emotion.

I honestly felt pity for this abused, broken child. But there was nothing I could do, at present. So I curled up in the corner, and eventually slept.

And I dreamt of the boy.