Okay this has been floating in my head for the last few weeks and I couldn't help but write it. Normally I write a whole story and post it periodically but I was so happy with this I decided to post it :) First off, I DON'T OWN 'K.' Secondly, the stuff written below is actually part of K SIDE: RED. You can find really good English translated parts of the novels on trashbunny tumblr. Seriously. Read it. It will BLOW. YOUR. MIND.

Enjoy! :D


Whatever hung in the air was oppressive and powerful.

The darkness that shrouded her was always like that, the air always stale and tasting of rubber, iron, medication and a hint of copper – old blood.

Hers.

But this was different. Whatever 'this' was, she wasn't sure but for some reason a flicker of hope shone in her heart.

The induced coma the Good-fucking-Doctor had put her under ensured she could still hear and feel everything they did to her body and her sense of touch didn't fail her now. The air was hot. She could hear the shouts coming from outside of her room that would best be described as a cell, more or less. Her own private, all expenses paid twelve foot by twelve foot slice of hell.

Alone with her thoughts with nothing to focus on but the constant drain on her system and the numbing pain inflicted on her body to test for 'optimum results,' she clung to her sanity by a fragmented memory and that outside feeling that she could only best describe as red. She heard the steady beep of the heart rate monitor pick up in excitement as the panicked voices were now just outside of her door.

She didn't recognise any of them.

That was a good thing.

Right?

Please… she mentally screamed as a physical tear slipped down her stone pale face. Please let someone find me… please, someone help me!

A deep thud reverberated in the still air of her room and she would have flinched in empathy if she didn't intimately know the scent that greeted her nose as the door swung open – lemon scented bleach, ink, old mint and manic dreams. Despite the obvious pandemonium outside of her world of darkness, the figure's breathing was calm and rational, not even a flicker of unease in his lazy gait to her bedside.

Just another day at the office.

She wanted to rip out her hair. He caressed her cheek and she could practically hear the self-satisfied smirk edging along his pointed face.

She wanted to scream

Then he laughed, a genuinely amused chuckle that one usually reserved for private moments with their loved ones as they shared an inside joke. This was all she was in this place – a joke.

She wanted to kill him.

"This day has certainly become interesting Number Thirty-two," he sighed. He never used her real name; she was just a number, like livestock. The building shook as an explosion rang out above ground, a few dust motes tickling her nose. "It seems a few outsiders have taken a vested interest in my facility. It's a shame you've never seen what a utopia it has become for people like you."

People like me…

She heard a distinct flick of a switch being turned off and pressure on her arms as he ripped out the IV drips keeping her body hydrated and fed, the warm trickle of blood pooling beneath her elbows. He left in the tube shoved down her throat to help her breathe. The machines started to scream until the cord was ripped out of the socket. The eerie silence was filled by the click of his tongue, his gaze burning a trail over her still body covered in bandages and a thin hospital gown. "My, my, you're in quite the bad shape aren't you? No matter. The drugs in your system will keep you under just long enough to keep you in one place. Until the place burns, that is."
Despite not being hooked up to a heart monitor she was sure he could hear her frantic heartbeat. Without a machine pumping her chest full of oxygen she could already feel the beginnings of asphyxiation. The pins and needles in her limbs told her whatever drug they pumped into her system was beginning to shut down too.

And whatever was besieging the clinic-slash-torture facility would torch the place without a second thought of seeing if someone else was hidden in the maze of hallways. She hoped whoever was giving the Doctor trouble was patient.

His warm hand cupped her cheek in a faux-tender manner that left her skin feeling ice cold.

"I'm thankful for these past sixteen months, Number Thirty-two. You are a being of ingenious design, but unfortunately you are not able to control your baser impulses. You are far too dangerous to be kept alive but I am loath to admit I, personally, can't watch over your demise."

Her mind focused on how long she had been kept under heavy lock and key.

Over a year. Had it really been that long?

If she could go back in time she would have avoided this man no matter what. But she was naïve, and the concept of a warm meal and soft bed were too tempting to refuse. He had prayed on her weaknesses and she had paid the ultimate price.

This was no utopia.

This was hell on earth for people like her – things like her.

Her humanity and sanity was holding on by a thread that was quickly fraying.

Dry lips pressed against her own and anger welled up inside of her despite the panic – borderline hysteria – and now throbbing pain. Her first kiss had been stolen by a man whose desire was to turn his medical knowledge into a weapon, to forcibly create and rush something nature decided to leave be. He withdrew and marched straight for the exit, pausing at the entrance.

The cracked open door flooded the room with blaring alarms and terrified shrieks. What was going on out there?

"Oh, and I thought it best to tell you that your dear imouto is no more."

Callous. Cold. Uncaring…

The door shut firmly behind him and she felt the frayed thread of her sanity snap. Tears leaked out of her eyes freely and suddenly she couldn't breathe. Her chest ached and veins filled with fiery grief, the emotional strain now a physical pain that seemed to burn away the fatigue plaguing her still body.

Bloodshot turquoise eyes opened…

And the world exploded.


Tatara Totsuka winced as one of his red clansmen received a rather nasty punch to the jaw by a member of Sceptre 4. Everywhere he looked, blue and red clashed, elegant sabers sparking off the more rudimentary skateboards and baseball bats the Homura clan wielded.

Beside him stood the second in command, Izumo Kusanagi who was taking in the violent scene with an apathetic gaze, cigarette between his lips. When he and his clansmen had discovered the Nanakamado Scientific Research Centre in the middle of Shizume City, they hadn't been expecting to come across so many Strains.

Humans whose genes had changed to give them certain abilities could become dangerous if they lost control; it was under this guise, this helping hand or 'saving grace' that the medics at the centre snatched Strains off the street and kept them at the Centre. They fed them, gave them a place to sleep and healthy interaction with others just like them. On the surface it was sort of like a homeless shelter, where the kids could discover themselves and learn to control their powers.

Only, when he and three of his other clansmen broke into the facility and hacked their database, they had discovered dark secrets – human experimentation, torture and attempted forceful genetic mutation among others, all below the surface in the basement level.

What made it seem worse was the place was run by a Gold clansman on the Gold King's turf, but regular inspections by the Rabbits had become the norm even the densest of the Strain children had noticed something off.

The place reeked of distrust and lies and somewhere below the surface was a little girl no older than seven that the Homura boys had come to think of as theirs. The presence of the Kingless Sceptre 4 was troublesome too.

Had they really sunk so low as to hire themselves out as mercenaries and body guards?

How far the mighty have fallen…

Heat made the air hiss, drawing Tatara from his thoughts to gaze at the back of the Red King's head. If there was one thing Mikoto Suoh had come to be known as by the residents of the City, it was 'Red Demon.' No one had a positive image of the fire toting Third King.

As always, whenever Mikoto embraced his flames, Tatara's breath was taken away. Violent wisps of red surrounded him in a protective shroud, making the air thick with a sense of malevolence and the promise of retribution. Beneath his half-lidded gaze was anger.

Mikoto strode forward, and like the loyal friend and vassal he was, Tatara followed, Izumo by his side.

The concrete cracked and the fighting crowd seemed to part like water, allowing the three men to make their way towards the shining glass and steel doors of the facility. It had long since been evacuated of people smart enough not to stay behind because when the Red King embraced his flame, things turned to ash. Steel and glass were superheated in an instant, turning molten and falling away to drip on the ground.

Izumo and Tatara remained unaffected, having been branded as a Homura clansman long ago. Surprisingly enough, the Sceptre 4 guards that had taken position inside the facility to guard it fled, their morale low and pride wounded from being Kingless for so long.

"Find an employee," Mikoto said, glancing around the marble and steel interior with a semi-interested gaze.

Izumo nodded, stamping his cigarette out on the smooth stone beneath his boots and disappeared around a corner, whistling a jaunty tune. Tatara gazed around him, taken by the craftsmanship of the plastered above. "If this place wasn't experimenting on people it would be a nice place, don't you think King?"

He smiled at Mikoto who simply grunted in reply. Undeterred, Tatara continued speaking in ill-disguised wonder, pointing out the lilies beside the reception desk and the carved marble pillars – now heat-cracked – by the front door. The place really was beautiful in its modern design. It was a shame about the inhumane practices and melted front entrance, though.

Izumo came back into view, a sobbing man in a white lab coat being dragged behind him. When the medic saw Mikoto he began to tremble. Unfazed, Izumo shoved the man towards the redheaded King. He knew he was in trouble.

"The basement level. There's a child there," Mikoto said simply. The medic nodded slowly. "She's under my protection."

The man blanched, eyes flickering behind the infamous Red King. Mikoto turned to face a wall dissected by two elevator doors, one of which was opening with a tall, thin man stepping out. In his arms, held at scalpel point, was a seven year old girl. Her violet eyes were wide with terror, silver-white hair slicked with sweat.

She looked like she had been through hell.

"Miduchi-sama!" the medic cried. To the man's credit he seemed as horrified of the situation as Tatara did. Izumo frowned in disgust at the now named Miduchi. He spared a glance to Mikoto, whose flames were rapidly heating the air. The medic started to cough on dry air. This wasn't going to end well.

"Hello, Anna-chan," Tatara soothed, smiling at the young girl. Her eyes remained fixed on Mikoto. "Everything's going to be okay. We're going to take you to see your Aunt Hanami, alright?"

Miduchi smiled, a wholly false, bone chilling smile. "Greetings, Red King and his band of rabid dogs. I didn't expect you to come personally."

"I'm full of surprises," Mikoto said nonchalantly, ignoring the jibe. "Release the girl. She's under my protection."

"Ah," Miduchi sighed, "A King under the protection of another King? I suppose it would make sense in a way. The hierarchy is so loose, nowadays. Full of loopholes, you see."

Izumo frowned. "Anna isn't a King."

Miduchi's fake smile widened. "Not yet, no. But she will be."

"What do you mean by that?" Tatara asked, unable to help himself. He was curious by nature.

"Anna is an extraordinary specimen. Her abilities are unbelievably valuable to my research. She had already come into contact with the Slate twice. I estimate one more go and she shall be crowned Blue King."

Mikoto's eyes met Anna's and he saw the hidden pain. When he was made King, it wasn't by his own personal choice. The Dresden Slate, a mystical stone tablet that had been unearthed during the Second World War, bequeathed powers onto seven individuals it deemed worthy and whose spiritual energy resonated with its omnipotence.

Mikoto had no choice, and the magma he kept restrained inside of him was painful. It was power capable of destruction or salvation in exchange for his self-control and personal happiness. It was a double edged sword.

His life wasn't his own anymore if the continued sound of fighting outside was any indication.

He would have been happy to spend the remainder of his teenage years as a normal boy but the Slate had dumped a harsh responsibility onto his shoulders, one that he wasn't sure he was ready for. As it were, his control of his inner fire kept his precious people safe, but that made him tired. Some days he likened himself to a living corpse. He refused to let that forcibly happen to Anna.

She didn't want the power, and he could protect her.

He would protect her.

Mikoto opened his mouth to respond when the entire building seemed to groan. An echoing scream filled with such pain and heartache resonated in the air and for a moment, Miduchi faltered, his smile slipping. Anna took advantage, stepping her petite foot down on his instep, forcing him to release her. Miduchi did so with a curse and Anna ran headlong towards Mikoto. The ground seemed to roll and she stumbled, only to be caught in Tatara's arms.

He smiled down at her. "Are you alright, Anna-chan?"

She gave a small nod and buried herself into his warm chest, clutching his shirt.

"What the fuck is going on?" Izumo yelled as crashes and groaning metal met their ears. The ground rolled again and all were affected, alarmed shouts sounding outside. A soft tug drew Tatara's gaze downwards and his eyes widened in shock to see his necklace floating in front of him as if drawn to something. He glanced towards his King and saw he was in a similar predicament.

"Outside, now!" Anna said, panic lacing her words.

All three men didn't question.

They simply followed orders.

Miduchi had managed to disappear.

They managed to make it outside, ducking as a few baseball bats and iron pipes flew towards the building, attracted to the metal and glass structure like it was magnetised.

The fighting had stopped, a few of the more desperate Homura members trying to tame their wayward weapons to no avail.

Then the air itself seemed to spark, like just before a thunderstorm. The strong scent of ozone permeated the air and the facility seemed to scream as it began to implode on itself, glass shattered across the ground.

The Sceptre 4 members shielded their faces with their coats as the Homura members released a little of their Aura, red mists melting the glass before coming into contact with their skin. Tatara stared, wide eyed, as what had been a five story modern piece of architecture folded in onto itself.

He just hoped there was no one left inside.

His fears, however, were confirmed by a carrying shriek that sounded like a certain Gold clansman's name.

"MIDUCHI!"


The human test subject known as Number Thirty-two made her way calmly towards the exit, rabid energy crackling off her body. After Miduchi dropped the emotional bomb that was news of her younger sister's death she had blacked out. A million thoughts ran through her head but at the same time it was completely empty.

She had only one goal; find Miduchi and kill him.

She had no doubt that the healthy ten year olds demise was his doing. He was manipulative and callous and cruel and she knew her death was his fault.

A far off voice was screaming at her, telling her that this was what the Good Doctor wanted; her on a rampage. It was drowned out by the crackling of electricity around her.

Her rubber prison hadn't been able to last long after she managed to wake up.

The only thing moving her weak body now was pure willpower. She stroked the cold, metal walls, electrifying them and positively charging them like a magnet. She would charge the central support beams with a negative charge to bring the torture facility crumbling down, hopefully with Miduchi inside. He was too smug to leave all his hard work behind.

She had been kept on the lowest level, sub-level 5. Two floors above was home to the criminally insane and unstable Strains that caused mayhem in public and she could feel through the disconnected power sources that each and every door had been unlocked, the thieves and murderers running rampant through the centre.

She sparked her fingers and touched the control box to the service elevator, sending it speeding down towards sub-level 5. The doors pinged and opened, revealing shining metal and glass.

Her gaze met her reflection and she supressed a wince as the doors slid close behind her.

Her hospital gown was streaked with blood that was now dried on her arms from where the IV was ripped out. Her complexion was pasty and bordering on grey, auburn hair lank and stringy.

What truly startled her were her eyes.

They were gaunt and dead like unpolished lapis.

And so much like Hana's that her chest ached.

Tears welled and she weakly punched the mirror, barely making a scratch. Her paper thin skin broke at her knuckles to leave a streak of crimson across the reflection of her face. Vaguely she heard the doors ping open, screams and manic laughter sounding out. She had reached sub-level 3, home to the criminally insane.

She stared at the carnage before her, unfazed and numb to everything.

She pressed the 'door close' button and shut herself away from it, calming elevator music replacing the sound of violence and bloodshed.

Not a moment later the doors slid open again onto the ground floor where she knew just down the hall was the central control room with security access, cameras useless now with the high amount of static in the air.

It wasn't her destination.

She stepped outside of the elevator and turned towards the door tucked into a small alcove, 'Emergency Exit' glaring at her in red print, mocking her. She pushed it open and padded up the stairs half a flight and flung the door open. It was the staff car park.

She allowed herself to grin at the sight of so many cars left behind. It seemed whoever was responsible for the fighting she could hear above sprung their attack on the centre without due notice. She could work with that. As she wound her way through the car park she brushed her hands along the sleek automobiles, charging the metal with a touch.

She was slowly making her way towards the centre crossbeam when she heard it; a car engine.

She whirled around, managing to catch a glimpse of a low-profile grey sedan she hadn't managed to get to, the familiar pointed face of her tormentor behind the wheel. His face was turned towards her, a victorious smirk planted on his features.

And he was heading for the exit.

She clenched her jaw so hard she was only mildly surprised she didn't crack her teeth.

She spun on her heel and ran the last few feet to the support beam, energy crackling around her body as she slammed her hands against the metal, filling it with a negative charge. The results were immediate. She manipulated the electro-magnetic field enough to allow the flying tonnes of metal to avoid her completely as she sprinted after Miduchi, sunlight filtering through the exit like a beacon.

If he disappeared into the light she knew he was lost to her.

She wouldn't allow that to happen.

The building groaned around her and she dodged a few falling chunks of concrete, uncaring of her poor state of dress and bare feet now leaving a bloody trail on the rolling ground. She just needed to get close enough to charge the gates and he'd never make it through. She needed to do this. She wouldn't be able to mourn her sister properly until she was avenged.

Flashes of Hana crossed her eyes so fast she lost focus and wasn't able to avoid a rather large piece of rubble falling from above, coming into contact with her head. The hit jarred her enough for her to almost lose balance and in that split second she had managed to get spun around.

She frantically tried to regain her bearings but when she did the sadist's grey sedan was gone.

He'd managed to disappear into the light.

She followed blindly, eyes unable to adjust too quickly as she sped outside into the bright sunlight. Knowledge of defeat tasted bitter on her tongue. Her heart ached for her sister who she hadn't seen in over a year and for parents that hadn't been around for almost nine.

She was alone, and she felt so, so lost.

Unable to cope with the mental and emotional stress she briefly lost control of the crackling energy inside of her, causing it to leak into the air and spark as if alive. The building behind her imploded violently, entombing everything. She knelt and buried her head in her knees, pulling at her hair in grief, the sound of screaming reaching her ears and somewhere inside of herself she realised it was her.