This is just something weird that has been on my mind. Might delete this later, depends. :D
Anyway, this is pretty lame and odd but if someone reads it and likes it, it would be really rad! :)
I used Greek mythology as reference for the title; Themis is commonly referred as the goddess of justice, and Thanatos the god of death (thanatos is Greek for Death). So the English title would be Justice and Death :)
~Enjoy~
Everything was spinning. Or then it was just him spinning. Frankly? He had no idea whether it was he himself or the strange ambient around him that spun. All he was capable of comprehending was the endless spinning, the peculiar sensation of his body feeling dream-likely light and the odd music playing in the background.
At some point he was able to open his eyes. Moistness and obscurity welcomed his sensitive eyes as he desperately tried to understand where he was. It felt like he was dreaming. Maybe he was dreaming? But the marble floor underneath him felt so realistically cold.
Wait… Marble floor? If he recalled correctly, his apartment had wood flooring, not marble flooring. He tried to open his eyes more, to be able to see anything more than an orange tint and some odd shadows, but his attempt was in vain. Where was he? Who was he? His head spun in sickening circles, making it impossible for him to think. Soon he could discern a pounding pain in the back of his head, and he couldn't help but to wonder why it was there. Why was he feeling such an immense pain in the back of his head? He knew he didn't have any tumors in his brain.
The spinning persisted and he realized that his whole body felt very chilly – cold in fact. And that was when he perceived that he felt cold because of the marble floor, which was strange, because normal clothes would have prevented a phenomenon like this to happen. Then it occurred him that he perhaps wasn't wearing any clothes at all, and he began to feel very sick as the stubborn spinning kept on nauseating him even more.
Piercing through his ears, it seemed like the music suddenly had become louder, and a low, murmuring chuckle could be heard from a place far behind the music. It sounded like an animal, its mouth dripping of a wet lust to eat and devour anything that came in its way. But in the meantime, the chuckle was filled with affection and love, ready to care for whatever that came in the unrevealed person's way. It was a sickening laughter, reminding him of someone, yet being completely unfamiliar.
Soon he realized that he had closed his eyes without even taking any notice to it. Or then the place had become pitch black. He didn't know and couldn't tell. All he knew of was the nettlesome spinning which made him grow an urge to vomit. Soon he gave in to the sensations of drowsiness and slumber, he gave in to the spinning, the everlasting, devious spinning and the low chuckle which gobbled and gurgled somewhere far away behind the strange music.
He lost consciousness once again, dreaming about a cold winter day.
§
The streets were filled with merry laughter. The voices of young people echoed throughout the lanes which normally would look inconsolable and almost intimidating. A familiar stank of alcohol captivated the normally chilly night air and a nocturnal adventure filled with voluptuousness, bravery and foolishness persevered.
It was a night for lovers, a night for lone men to drink their sorrow away, a night for youths to meet – in short, a night for the people to enjoy.
Normally empty lanes would be filled with people, glasses would be raised, desperate shouts would be heard and a merry laughter would finish the procedure. Lips met each other, hands clung to each other, bodies sought for the warmth of others and whispers were uttered in between husky breaths which smelled smoke and alcohol. Somewhere else, teardrops fell down to the ground, whimpers filled with sorrow escaped in between small hiccups and sniffles and sobs were constantly repeated. And someone else was perhaps testing their braveness, swallowing coins, coming up with insane ideas and would finally be sent to the hospital because of these same loony ideas.
Somewhere in the lane, a young couple was walking home. They had spent the night with a few friends and were now withdrawing for a more private place. Both of them were pretty much sober, as both of them preferred to stay hardheaded instead of losing their minds. The young woman smelled like strawberries and wore a cute, pink dress that actually didn't suit the atmosphere in the bars at all. The young man was also a bit awkward, apparently new to love and even more inexperienced with spending a night in bars. Despite these facts, the couple seemed content, clinging to each other, discussing about something close to nonsense and simply enjoying each other's companies.
After a while, the couple reached a completely empty lane close to the ocean. A salty aroma filled the air and pushed away the reek of alcohol. Suddenly the air was chilly and fresh, making them feel fresh as well, but reminding the two of them that the clock ticked way past midnight, which made them hurry on their steps a little. Soon the young woman complained that she was cold, and the young man gave his coat to her. The steps persisted to echo.
It felt like their steps were shadowed because of the echo. Like someone was a few steps behind, repeating the couple's steps. But both were aware that it only was the innocent echo creating this feeling of enigma. Exceptionally a seagull shrieked in the dark sky, which was utterly peculiar, since usually this type of creatures were asleep at this time of the day. The sudden shriek startled the young woman who without warning had become a little shaky. She didn't feel scared, yet she shuddered with something someone would call fear. It was incomprehensible.
Their conversation had died out a long time ago and they only listened to the echo of their own footsteps. The mood had also died out and they both felt chilly, both on the inside and the outside. A sensation of fear had instead taken over and pushed away the merry atmosphere. Gritted words were desperately trying to create another silly conversation, but it was all in vain. The feeling of persecution had grown too strong already. A small chill went through the young man's spine as he grew very suspicious. He knew it was simply foolish paranoia, he always felt like this when he was walking on lone lanes during dark nights. It was like a curse of his.
Soon, however, both of them were convinced that it wasn't only their own footsteps echoing so obscurely.
The young woman turned around.
A scream was heard, but this time it was not the scream of a seagull.
The steps ceased completely.
§
Darkness enveloped the apartment, but inside of it there was one source of light. A tall, muscular frame was resting against a fitment that could be discerned as a sofa. The color was impossible to discern in the obscurity however. One might guess red, a darker tint of red or perhaps dark brown. However, the color of the comfortable fitment was completely irrelevant.
In front of the sofa stood a coffee table, looking as if it bowed to the majestic sofa, as if it felt inferior compared to it. Due to the fact that the source of light was right in front of it, one could see that it was made of glass and had metallic legs. Despite it looking inferior compared to the sofa, it was used as eagerly as the other fitment. A bowl of popcorn, a big bottle of Coke, three cans of cowberry long drink, a bowl of carefully picked candy and a small bag of honey roasted almonds conquered the glassy table. Everything had been almost emptied so far. There also lay an empty can, which obviously had been filled with dip, and a small bowl which had been filled with cucumbers and carrots.
The man who lay on the sofa lazily was currently sipping on a fourth can of cowberry long drink. His body was massive in some way, yet very lean and fit. He was extremely well-trained, that one could discern despite the lack of light. His amber eyes focused on the flickering TV-screen in front of him, the only source of light in the whole apartment.
Sometimes Tuesday nights ended up being like this for Eustass Kidd. After two hours of intense training in the afternoon he would be starving. The first thing he would do when arriving home would be preparing a simple dinner consisting smoked salmon, a lot of smoked ham, almonds and avocado blended into a creamy pasta sauce along with some well-cooked pasta. These types of fats brought out his abs nicely and helped him to maintain the perfect fat percentage for his age. Then he would eat a few slices of rye bread to get long-lasting carbs and drink a few glasses of milk to avoid lack of calcium. Sometimes he would also boil an egg or two to increase the amount of protein.
Then a few hours passed, in which he included a small soft stretching session, play some video games, talk with some friends and perhaps go out for a small walk in order to prevent possible lactic acids to appear his muscles, which otherwise could lead to a devious pain in his muscles the incoming days. Usually the lactic acid stayed in the muscles directly after an extra intense training session and would be gone when Kidd did his recovery stretching and walking, but one could never be sure with those devious things. They did like they pleased.
However, when these hours had passed, an enormous hunger would arrive again and so would the cravings for less healthy fats. Kidd was aware of the fact that this happened because the lunch he ate was pretty poor, and the snack he was supposed to eat was often forgotten. Most of the times, Kidd was able to ignore his cravings, and would only eat healthy breads with lettuce and ham to satisfy his hunger. But some days, like this Tuesday for example, the cravings had been way too big. So it had ended up with Coke, cowberry long drinks, popcorn, dip with cucumbers and carrots, candy and honey roasted almonds. He knew this kind of overeating wouldn't affect his body at all; he only did this once in three months after all and he trained enough to burn away any possible excess fats or carbs. Besides, because of his balanced diet and his healthy amount of sleep, his leptin levels were very high, so he burnt a lot of calories by merely sleeping. This all Kidd knew because of his job as a personal trainer.
Kidd had decided to become a personal trainer a few years back, when he had dropped out of college. Now he was 21, very well-trained and a specialist of muscles. He had started off with working at small gyms, barely earning any money, but he had quickly learnt how each muscle worked. The movement of each fiber, the blood circulation for each part of the body, the flexibility for each muscle. All of this had been engraved into his mind and he knew he could never forget these facts, even if he would try to. Kidd had always been good with muscles, knowing where to press in order to get the blood to flow and knowing how to stretch in order to prevent sore muscles. But thanks to his work as a personal trainer, his instincts and skills had become even more incisive.
Then, almost a year ago, he had gotten job at a very famous and expensive sport club for celebrities. By then, his uncommon skill had been much known, and many rich businessmen and politicians had already come specifically to him in order to get rid of stiff necks and backs.
At the sport club his work hadn't changed that much, he was still doing the same things as always; stretching, massaging, doing acupuncture, holding self-defense courses, creating training schemes for people and helping them with their diets. But his pay had changed drastically, because now he worked with people who weren't common citizens, but celebrities and very rich businessmen. For some reason, it made a difference whether you drove a normal Toyota or a Porsche.
Well, in the end it had been a very fortunate alternation to Kidd's somewhat poor and gooey life. Suddenly he afforded a motorcycle, a luxury apartment and nice clothes. He afforded to buy drinks at clubs – even expensive clubs – and was able to spend some extra cash whenever he needed to. It was a very nice life, a life where everything was neatly balanced; friends, work, personal spending and health. Everything was in outmost balance and the current balance was utterly hard to rub. It had been hard to achieve, but holy fuck, it was really worth it.
The TV-screen suddenly flickered and the brain-dead program about motorcycles that Kidd had been watching ended abruptly. His eyes twitched in annoyance, but soon the sentiment of irritation was replaced by curiosity. It was emergency news again. And once again, they told about the peculiar serial killer. Kidd listened diligently with eager and tried to obtain as much information about the case as possible. Apparently a young couple had disappeared and they had found the body of another politician. Whoever the serial killer was, it surely was a strange person. Killing famous politicians, rapists, bank crime performers and completely farfetched young couples – it made no sense. When the serial killer had appeared about a year ago, the police force had suspected it to be an omnipotent person, who thought they had the right to obviate the lives of certain criminals. However, when young couples absurdly had started disappear the police force had been completely lost. What was the motive of these kidnaps and murders? Who had a motive like that? How could they catch someone like that?
This kind of torture had been going on for almost a year. Very few people dared to walk outside, even if they were in someone else's company, and most people even feared to be in their own homes. No one knew who the psychopath was – it could be anyone. Your grandmother, your sister, your brother, your cousin Stephen, your bizarre uncle… Anyone in your ambient. This fact sent sensations of fear, incertitude, insecurity, chariness and timidity down the spines of the people. Quickly parents had activated their survival instincts, in order to protect their children from eventual threats. Swiftly young children had learnt not to trust anyone, merely their parents, and that playing outside was a dangerous thing. The devious fear had altered the behavior of the people – no one trusted anyone anymore.
This applied for Kidd as well, as his curiosity was quickly subsided and was replaced by fear. He was scared as well, but not of getting killed.
He glanced at his clock and then stood up hastily. An amber gaze was directed towards the flat in front of his. Through the windows of his own apartment, he could see another block of flats rising in front of him, giving him the opportunity to observe the inhabitants of these apartments. Over the past months, he had mildly befriended one of these persons and had grown a bad habit to observe this person from the window of his own apartment. Because of this, he had seen the said man leave his apartment at half past five, but he had yet not returned. It was obvious that his friend had merely gone out to the convenience store a few blocks away, and that was why it occurred Kidd so strange that he hadn't returned yet.
Kidd considered calling the police right away. With the mentally unstable serial killer loose, anything could have happened. His friend could have been kidnapped. Or killed. The worst kinds of thoughts swirled inside of Kidd's head, making his vision spin and forcing him to sit down again. The arms of the clock ticked past midnight. Kidd knew that his friend was organized and quick at making purchases, it would never take him this long to buy himself a simple dinner or some fruits. Something must have happened.
The voice of the woman narrating the news kept on echoing throughout the apartment, but it did not reach Kidd's mind. He was entangled within his own thoughts.
Maybe he was a bit quick to judge the situation. Maybe his friend had gone out for a drink or something else instead? How could Kidd be so sure that it had been a trip to the convenience store? Because he had seen him grab the organic tote back which he always used when doing groceries. But maybe he had decided to go drinking and then buying something on the way home? No, he wasn't that type of person.
Yes, over the past months he had befriended the said man. They had exchanged some words every now and then, even gone out drinking together and going on a few jogs together. Kidd was a man who chose his friends with care, and even if he actually didn't get along with the man, he knew they had one thing in common, which made him so ridiculously fond of him. They had never discussed it openly, and the man probably didn't know that Kidd was the same, but one day Kidd would make him realize.
That was why he was very anxious. If his friend would be dead, it would literally be impossible for him to confess the truth. And he also cared for his friend, he didn't want him to be brutally stabbed to death or neatly poisoned to a deep sleep. He wanted to keep their friendship alive, and hell, it would be fucking difficult to maintain a friendship when the other person was dead.
Kidd nervously played with his phone, balancing between calling the cops and not calling the cops. It was like walking on a thin and fragile wire with your eyes bound; you could not see what was on either side of the wire. If you lost balance and fell to the right, you didn't know whether you would face acute spikes or a soft mattress. The same applied with the left side. And if you managed to keep your balance all the way, you had no idea what you were going to face when you reached your goal – if there even was a goal to reach.
The emergency news ended and the pointless program about motorcycles recommenced. This time Kidd's amber eyes were not looking at the neatly painted metal-monsters, instead his mind find itself balancing on a thin wire, trying its best to look down in order to see whether it made sense to jump or not. No matter how much he tried to discern anything through the blind he could not see anything of the bottomless darkness underneath him, he could not see the answer.
"Maybe I should call the cops in the morning instead?" Kidd mused. "They don't take action until a person has been missing for at least 24 hours. But then again, maybe they would take action quicker because of the serial killer? However, it'd be really embarrassing if it later was revealed that he had only gone on a holiday or something…"
Entangled thoughts were desperately trying to come up with a proper answer. Nothing like a proper answer existed in situations like these. Maybe it was because of that that Kidd chose to remain silent and wait until the morning.
"Don't worry Trafalgar, I'll call the cops if you haven't returned by the morning", Kidd mumbled for himself, shut the TV thoughtlessly and lazily left the coffee table conquered with unhealthy snacks, even leaving the only half-way drunken cowberry long drink on the glassy table.
§
In contrary to how he usually woke up, Law's eyes opened swiftly and abruptly. Lungs gasping for air because of a freezing cold, Law threw his head to the sides in panic in order to observe his ambient. He was faced by a fire-like tint that he easily could discern as the light from candles. As his eyes grew used to the lack of light, he could slowly comprehend that he was staring up at the ceiling of an old church.
Without realizing it himself, Law's lithe body had begun to tremble. He was cold, hungry and in complete panic. Where was he? Why was he in a church? Was it even a church? He felt incredibly ill. He vaguely remembered dreaming something about a similar ambient, and could now understand that it had not been a dream at all.
By taking deep breaths, he calmed down and analyzed the situation. He was naked and chained attached to the floor of an old church. How wonderful. Despite thinking that he had calmed down, his body persevered to tremble in a humiliating manner. Maybe it was because of the cold marble floor beneath him. Regardless, who on earth would do this to him and for what reason? Maybe it was a sick prank? He knew his friends loved to take pranks a bit too far, but even for them, this would be extreme.
It took a while before Law realized that on one of the church benches hiding in obscurity stood an old-fashioned gramophone and that this very gramophone played a classic piece called Sérénade mélancolique by Tchaikovsky. Law knew that it was a concerto for violin and orchestra and that it had been composed 1875 by the worldwide-known composer Tchaikovsky. But he could not understand why he recalled these facts of everything he had ever learnt. In fact, Law had never even been keen on music.
"Ha ha, really funny Penguin", Law muttered sloppily. His voice had gone slightly hoarse, most likely because it had been completely unused for several hours, and it had lost its natural softness, which resembled the art of gracefully forging gold into magnificent sculptures and forms.
He had come to the conclusion that it probably was his friends throwing a really creepy prank on him, they had done similar stuff before after all. Once they had literally bought one hundred birds and let them into Law's apartment, only because of the sole reason that Law detested those creatures. So, in other words, it would not leave him astonished if it was revealed that it was his friends behind all of this. In fact, he would most likely not even care anymore.
"Can I have my clothes back now? Or are you going to torture me first?" Law asked sarcastically, hearing steps proceed closer to him. He had by then become completely convinced that it couldn't possibly be anyone else behind this prank besides his friends. There existed no other person or group of persons who would do this to him. At least none crossed his mind.
However, when his tired inquiries were answered with an indescribably odd chuckle, his thoughts immediately swirled into another direction and swiftly recalled the rabid serial killer. Panic rushed through his body once again and he desperately started to trash around, throwing his heads to the sides, trying his best to get free from the chains prisoning him. The chuckles continued echoing throughout the building and as soon as the shady character was revealed, Law realized that there as something familiar about that bizarre laughter.
"Do you remember me Law? I'm sure you do", the voice was filled with an odd, sick affection.
Law squinted and looked at the majestic figure standing in front of him. The man was familiar indeed. In fact, Law recalled seeing this man several times as a routine of some sort, but his mind was still clouded because of fear. Like rusty cogwheels his mind slowly started to run. The machinery in his mind creaked and whistled as he desperately tried to remember. It was an inert and slow process, resembling overcooked porridge that slowly slimed its way around the pot. When the machinery had started running properly, Law remembered and his breath hitched uncomfortably.
"Doflamingo..?" he had planned to ask much more, but somehow the words he had planned to utter stumbled upon reaching his lips. It felt like his tongue was incredibly heavy and that it was close to impossible to make the sounds in his throat reach his mouth. All he could let out was some incomprehensible moaning and a few disgruntled grunts. "Why? What..? How?" Finally he managed to speak again, but only simple words managed to pass through his lips.
"So you do remember me. I was afraid that the morphine dose had been a little too high, but apparently you're completely fine", smirking like a determined feline, Doflamingo let his gaze rest on Law. "You aren't cold are you? In case you are, there is not much I can do about it. You have to be in your birthday suit, otherwise the ritual won't work."
"Why are you of all people doing this to me of all people?" finally being able to speak again, Law couldn't come up with a reason to why his former boss would want to chain him attached to the floor of an old church naked. It was incomprehensible. Why would anyone overall want to do that to him? It was a very farfetched thing to do. "Wait… What ritual?"
Instead of replying, Doflamingo froze for a brief moment as if Law was an idiot, before he burst into laughter. It didn't calm Law down the slightest. In fact he got even more frightened and started to question the sanity of his former boss. He had always known that Doflamingo was an eccentric man who did eccentric things, but he had never suspected him to be mentally unstable. Or then perhaps this was an odd prank after all. Law felt how the air grew thick, almost like water, and soon he had a lot of trouble to breathe normally. He knew he was panicking once again. That was all he understood for the time being.
Doflamingo laughed and laughed, until he sloppily sat down on one of the church benches next to the ancient-looking gramophone. He theatrically wiped away a few tears and slowly calmed down his hysterical laughter with a long sigh. Then he gracefully gestured towards the gramophone, as if he was directing the music with his enormously big hands.
"Sérénade mélancolique…" he mumbled and closed his eyes behind his strange sunglasses as if he was in some kind of ecstatic dreamland. His hands moved in the beautiful pace of the music. Law swallowed, trying his best to keep down the feeling to vomit. He was in desperate need of answers. And the morphine which Doflamingo apparently had drugged him with had messed up his system pretty badly. The music died out slowly, first with the orchestra waning, letting the solo violinist finish the piece with a soft touch. "Tchaikovsky, 1875. Does this music ring you a bell? Or have you completely forgotten everything about that time?"
"No, it certainly rings a bell", Law coughed out, he could namely barely speak by then. Why was Doflamingo avoiding his inquiries like that? Did he have a reason to do so? What kind of reason could he have? It was hard for Law to even form proper theories in his head. He felt how the world had started to spin again and how the air just grew thicker and thicker, now almost as thick as blood.
"Really? I'm flattered that you remember. Or do you remember? Where have you heard this piece before? Do you want me to play it again for you?" Doflamingo asked curiously.
"I've heard it before. I certainly have…" closing his eyes, the spinning became even worse. He let the machinery in his brain run again. It was a painful process. He had for some reason closed away this part of his brain completely. But… why? He couldn't recall a reason to why he would have done that. Suddenly the machinery stopped running and he recalled.
It had been a funeral. Luffy's funeral. He had been in a car accident and had not made it. A mental image of the surgeon coming out from the operating room announcing the grief news, flashed through Law's mind. Family, friends and colleagues had gathered a few weeks later. A rainy day, drops filled with truths of faith had fallen down from the sky. Black had not only been the dress code, but also a color which had taken over their minds. It was inevitable after all – death had snatched a living creature right before their eyes. And Law had loved that living creature.
That day Sérénade mélancolique had been played, had been listened to and had echoed over hills filled with dead bodies.
The piece had been suggested by Doflamingo, who had invited to his mansion after the funeral. Law had humbly agreed, feeling mostly like a seashell that had been flushed ashore, drying to death because of lack of water. Sérénade mélancolique had accompanied the two of them over there as well. They had shared a few drinks, to put it in a refined way. The blonde man, the former boss of both Luffy and Law, had informed the raven haired young man that Tchaikovsky was his favorite composer, and that this very piece was his favorite. He had enlightened the younger one with a lot of facts about the Russian composer.
Vividly remembering the day, Law coughed weakly, trying to determine whether the memories were hallucinations or actual happenings. The drugs really had ruined him.
"It was after that funeral right?" Law asked, feeling how his unused vocal cords were getting more used to produce sounds. His mouth, however, remained as dry and queasy as ever. Doflamingo let out another low chuckle, letting it echo throughout the empty, abandoned church.
"I really am flattered. But enough about that", the tall man stood up, stretching his limbs and then proceeded to walk away from Law again.
Panic overwhelmed Law again; he could not bear with the thought to be left alone in this moist, cold, echoing church. He breathed and desperately sought for the words which needed to be spoken. His lithe body trashed around, making the catenae keeping him still noise in a hair-raising manner. The low, gurgling chuckle did not make the situation any easier.
A light appeared out of nowhere, making it able for one to see the whole building properly. When this happened, Law immediately calmed down and took some time to look around himself. But when his gaze landed on the altar, panic returned as harshly as every winter does.
Up on the altar, so gracefully decorated, so vigorously built, there were two crosses sectioned. Behind them, through a beautiful window illustrating some Christian event made of mosaic, the full moon smiled down at them. But neither the crosses, nor the moon were as horrifying as the two humans catenated to the crosses. They were naked, their nude bodies richly bathing in the light of the overseeing moon. They were a young couple, a young, sweet woman and a young man. Before them Doflamingo stood, holding his hands in the air, as if he was ready to embrace the two youths.
Law remembered how the blonde man had said something about some ritual. Law had been hoping that the blonde man had been joking with him. But this did not seem like a joke. The man was completely twisted.
Doflamingo turned around, his arms still outstretched, but now when facing Law, it looked as if he was about to embrace the youth situated on the floor instead. The feral grin on his face only strengthened Law's opinion about Doflamingo being a complete bedlamite. Walking down from the altar, the blonde man arrived by the rusty, creaky gramophone, changing the records while the psychopathic smirk adorned his sunburnt face.
"I was over to your parent's place the other day. Your mother was a very fair and kind lady, and she got very eager when I told her that I was a friend of yours who was going to deliver some of your old stuff left there. That was a small, innocent lie, however", the talking persevered while he scoured through the records which had been left in a pile next to the gramophone.
"My mother..? What did you do!?" Law desperately attempted to sit up. He had felt utterly sorry for his mother when his father had passed away. The kind woman had been left alone; Lami – Law's younger sister – had only been able to stay with their mother for a few weeks before having to return to her job. She had insisted that she was fine, but everyone knew how Law's mother truly felt. If that bastard had laid a hand on his mother he would rip his intestines out with his mere hands.
"Don't be silly love. Why would I hurt my future mother-in-law? I merely sat down with her and chatted with her, and then I went to your old room to fetch your stuff. The room really smelled like you. Which made me indescribably mad. I've been so kind to you ever since I met you. Gave you a good job, offered promotions and bonuses, paid for your trips, supported you – I've always been there for you. And yet – and yet – you chose that despicable Monkey D. Luffy over me", literally spitting the last words with pure hatred, Doflamingo's whole frame tensed visibly, probably from anger. But then he relaxed. "But I've forgiven you. So let's make this work out, alright?"
"What the fuck is wrong with you!?" Law was usually not the kind of person who lost his temper, but right now he had no choice. All of the fear had made him so incredibly mad that it was impossible to coin words for the sensation. "Let me go you fucking madman!" Continuing to shout other affronts to the other man, Law trashed around, not realizing how embarrassingly desperate his efforts were.
"Now, now, don't get upset. I know that you don't return my feeling yet. But after this procedure of love you will surely return my warm sensations", Doflamingo mused. "While visiting your mother I actually snatched some pretty interesting stuff. Your clothes, your books, your old notes from class… But what really caught my attention were the photo albums. I'm sure your mother won't be all too unhappy with a few of them missing. You were a very adorable child. Now, enough blabbering." Doflamingo finally settled for a record and put it in the other record's place. "I chose a song for us – Chopin's Nocturne C minor, opus 48, number 1. There are only two sets of nocturnes in that opus, whereas number one is considered a great emotional achievement. It was composed in 1841, and the opus consisting of the two nocturnes are dedicated to Mademoiselle Laure Duperré. I thought the piece is ideal for us."
Law persisted to protest on the church floor, now, however, short on good insults.
The music started in a melancholic manner, making it clear for the listener that the music was in a 4/4 meter, yet having a nice touch of andantino. Soon the wave of melancholy changed and gave off a more harmonious and glad tune.
Doflamingo walked back to the altar that was illuminated by some sort bizarre of lamps brought into the old church and the pale moonlight. The young couple awoke slowly, as if they were sticky pieces of caramel. Apparently the exchange of words between Doflamingo and Law had caused enough sound to shake them awake from the land of dreams.
"Welcome, dear human sacrifices", Doflamingo looked at the two, innocent youths, who blinked in complete somnolence and confusion. "Today you will be offered to the goddess of love, Aphrodite, in hope of her sending us her son Eros to grant me and my dear Law eternal love."
Law swallowed, feeling nauseous of the mere thought of what was going to occur next. The young woman started to cry and beg, while the young man trashed around, trying to free himself and thus save himself. Satisfaction adorned the blonde man's face as he pulled out a small scalpel. The whole situation was disgusting. Everyone in the building, except for Doflamingo himself, were captivated whilst being in their birthday suits, completely vulnerable.
"No… No..! Please spare us..!" the young woman begged, trembling in complete fear. She had of course heard of the serial killer and was able to comprehend her earlier feeling of being followed, when she and her boyfriend had been on their date together. "I'm sorry..! Don't..!" She had no idea what to say, but tried her best to come up with something.
"So you're the serial killer..?" Law mumbled appalled, not being able to stop staring at the trembling, naked bodies of the victims.
"We both know that isn't entirely true", Doflamingo smirked, making the edges of his mouth curl into an enigmatic facial expression.
The couple trashed around, desperately attempting to save themselves, or at least fend Doflamingo away. But their forlorn attempts were completely useless. Law felt like he had to do something. He felt like the whole pandemonium was because of him.
"Don't do it Doflamingo", he said, voice stern and determinative. Traces of fear could easily be discerned within the voice, however. "They have nothing to do with this. Stop this madness. Just. Stop. I will just hate you if you harm them."
"Oh Law", now the gap between Doflamingo and the youths were only a few inches. "There is no Themis in this cruel world we live in. No justice whatsoever. This world consists of Thanatos' will – Death."
With a swift, smooth movement, blood was spilled.
"And Eros' will – Love."
And thus one romance had ended, and another would begin.
~Thanks for Reading~
