Chapter 1: In The Dead of Night
As the title suggests, it was so.
Bankotsu let out a small breath as he narrowed his cobalt orbs on the city below, the target silently brooding in his office, the pace of his footsteps quick and too swift to be relaxed. No, he knew. Someone was here to kill him and he was right. How exciting. Perhaps he would put up a fight.
Placing a hand to his ear, the boy who was no more than seventeen, smirked, speaking into the ebony bluetooth. "Ginkotsu, fire the harpoons for the others. Jakotsu, second floor. Renkotsu, third. Mukotsu, the ventilation room in the basement, set up. And Kyokotsu, you're with Suikotsu on the ground."
"Yes, oo-aniki!" The six men nodded as the second youngest spoke up.
"But what about you, Bankotsu?"
"I've got the paranoid one on the fourth." The leader smirked as chuckles echoed from the others, the sound of shooting harpoons accompanying them. "Three minutes, guys. And we're outta here."
Grunts and cries of approval were all the seventeen-year-old needed as he stood from his perch, smirk growing as he took a moment to admire his older brothers' handiwork. The politician should have known better than to have set up his communications building in such a shady area, especially where bodies and gunshots were so common that they were heard and found without a blink of surprise.
Turning to the first floor, the leader watched as his brothers silenced the man's guards, blood spilling and splattering with a delightful spray on the overpriced furniture and main lobby. Kyokotsu was roaring in quiet laughter as the guards shot bullets, none penetrating the giant's skin as the giant crushed them, the imagined sound of crushed marrow sending shivers of delight up the leader's spine. On the other side, Suikotsu pawed and grinned at his victims' terror, lithe and lethal movements like a cat as the man tore the men into rags of flesh that were once their faces a moment ago.
Moving on, the second floor was filled with feminine screams, that were muffled to the leader as he watched from the outskirts of the buildings, as his youngest older brother tore apart the women with a snarl of disgust, the hatred brimming from Jakotsu's face. Only to smile in delight as a sole man stood in terror of the gore that surrounded him.
Oh, he found it. Bankotsu noted with a light smile as he didn't know whether to feel bad or to smile in mirth, on the fact that the man was handsome and due to that he was probably able to rise to the top at advising the politician in his policies, but it was now what made him Jakotsu's current prey and plaything.
Leaving his brother to his fun, the leader looked to the fiery third floor. Lit with orange and red flames, the perspiration that ran down the entrapped workers and the panic on the windows of their souls, it was invigorating as Renkotsu encased them in a cage of flame-lined steel wires. The bald brother chuckled with mirth as Ginkotsu came to view, the metal man throwing a small black box only to ensue more panic. Psychological warfare at it's best.
My turn. The seventeen-year-old smirked largely as he pulled over his cap, hiding his braid and face as he clipped himself onto the steel cord fired by Ginkotsu a mere minute ago. Sending a glance to his watch, which informed him of having two minutes, the boy blinked in mirth, having time aplenty. Zip lining in mere seconds, the boy released the wire, dissembling immediately as the leader executed a fluid flip, landing on the roof with such gracefulness that acrobats would have been jealous. Entering, the leader swung open the main office, leaving the snap of necks echoing in the halls.
The main office was dark, the lights cut off, courtesy of Ginkotsu as the leader opened the door, the man to which the room belonged, seated as if awaiting his arrival, seemingly calm but the thundering heartbeat informed the leader of the opposite. "So, you have come. Late, compared to the rest of you."
"Well, I would have come earlier but I couldn't let the others have the fun." The boy shrugged, a lackadaisical smile on his lips, all that the politician could see as the boy decided to play a bit.
"I see." The man sighed shakily, obviously frightened of the boy who stood before him, head cocked on one side almost innocently. "W-Why do you do this? Do not see what your actions would do? I-I have a family! Don't you have one, or are so heartless that you —?"
"Shut up." The boy hissed, as he threw a thin blade, lodging into the man's throat as the boy snaked before him with a cruel smirk, pinning the man on the velvet carpet as blood pooled. "You politicians think that with a couple of words you can scare the masses off, but you are nothing more than a coward."
"You have a family?" The boy inquired before he scoffed, the man under him choking in his own blood. "So? So does the people you crush to get power. And what's even more amusing is that with your death, you will being feeding mine."
With a swift pull, the blade tore from the man's throat, blood gushing as the boy's lips grew in smirk as blood splattered on his face, twirling the thin dagger with a grin as turquoise orbs glowed with thrill.
"Now then. How about we greet the family with one last smile?"
Police officers frowned as they arrived at the scene, the news of the murdered politician having traveled like wildfire, every politician in the vicinity demanding protection in response. So, due to the fact that the morning had started on a swell start and the coffee had yet to kick in, no one on the force was at a very good mood.
Nearing the building, the officers blinked as they took it in, floor by floor.
From the ground to the second, the building was ominously covered in blood, from the tempered windows to the scathed floor. On the first floor, white victim tapes covered every square tile, the fresh blood making even the most experienced coppers pale in the amount. It was a literal bloodbath, more than one officer retreating out the door at the sight of it, not that anyone blamed them. The white tape was placed oddly, however, some too small to be considered bodies.
A rookie tapped a forensic, as he voiced it. "Um, why are there such small parts? I thought that the white tape signified bodies."
A senior officer grasped the newbie's shoulder as the forensic looked away, instead of answering. "It does, newbie. The bastards cut them up in so many pieces that it's that small, it's going to take us forever to identify who they were; not to mention the funerals."
Green pallor are on the newbie's face as he rushed off out the building.
On the second floor, it was less savage, but nonetheless bloody. Nestled in a bed of sliced parts of what could be humans, laid a headless man, his corpse covered in lacerations and deep wounds. The head was in the man's hands, his eyes gouged neatly as his handsome face was untouched, other than a lipstick smear on his cheek. Despite the imitation of how media portrayed the massacre of people, it was hard to kill a person. But to sever the bone, muscle, and nerves from the spine and the head, these people had to have had been powerful and strong.
Above, cruelty was the overarching stench along with the smell of burnt flesh. Surrounding the cage with horror, the officers gripped their fists with rage. Tied in an elaborate knot on the very top, steel netting incased the bodies in as the net singed in black signified that it was lined with gasoline, the bodies clawing and trying to escape, frozen as the victims tried to escape to the very end. And in the very end, they died. Tripping over a small object, the senior officer narrowed his eyes on the said object, picking it up with gloves for closer inspection, only to frown in anger.
Nearing, the newbie gestured to his superior with a questioning glance. "A fake bomb? Why would they need a fake one for?"
"Think, newbie." His superior nodded toward the cage with a stoic look.
Turning back to the cage, the newbie was silent for a moment before his eyes widened once more, not for the last time today. To create panic, for the victims to dance for them. For them to grow so panicked that they would die quickly.
After regaining their composure, the officers entered the fourth and final floor. Unlike the other floors, it was eerily tidy and clean, nothing out of place at the desk or any part for that matter. Eyes searching, the officers could find nothing out of place, as they neared the desk, the chair turned toward the wall. Silence enveloped as the officers knew with the prickling at their necks. Something or someone was on that chair.
With a slow turn of a gloved hand, gasps resonated from lips as mentions of blessings and soft curses were whispered under their breaths. Blood dripped slowly from the armrests toward the carpet, as the politician's corpse was held in place on the chair. Thin but strong needles held up the body with cruel intent, without a doubt placed as he was alive, each at a joint, plunged through the very chair. Then finally, in a gruesome smile, the once reverend politician who was known for his kind nature and philanthropist efforts, was forever to do so as staples held his slitted cheeks upright.
"S-Sir." The newbie spoke in a stutter, his inexperienced eyes wide with uncontrollable fear. Following his subordinate's line of sight, the chief of the police force caused under his breath as he bellowed out orders, well aware that he was going to be in for a very long morning.
Splattered in blood, seven individual markings glared over the granite wall. Only one group of killers ever left their mark ever so boldly and without fear of retaliation, because any who tried to imitate it was dealt with accordingly.
Shichinintai has come.