Author's Note: So. This totally came to me just now. I promise I'll finish up Frostrauma and ISWIDOT Series soon, but right now I just need to get this down. Seems legit.
*READ THIS.
~RATED T FOR SOME SUGGESTIVE MATERIAL (AND THEN SOME LATER ON X3), BLOOD, GRAPHIC STUFF, AND VIOLENCE. IF YOU SERIOUSLY CAN'T HANDLE GRAPHIC VIOLENT SCENES, DON'T READ. DON'T COMPLAIN TO ME ABOUT HOW YOU THINK IT DESTROYS THE STORY AND ALL THAT FUN CRAP. (might turn to M later on in the story)
~THIS WILL BE EITHER A JACK/OC FIC OR A BUNNY/OC FIC. OR EVEN JACKRABBIT. OR PROBLY JUST A FIC. I'M STILL DECIDING. AGAIN, DON'T LIKE, DON'T READ.
~DEAR REVIEWERS. PLEASE TREAD LIGHTLY AND NOT TRY TO KILL ME OR EACH OTHER. PEOPLE CLICK THE REVIEWS TO SEE HOW THE STORY IS, NOT TO SEE A BATTLEFIELD. THANK YOU.
Please note that I am writing this late at night seeing that I have a bad case of insomnia, and it might not seem up to par in terms of spelling and/or sentence structure. Don't have a fricking conniption and kill me with words. I love my life. So please. Be gentle :3
~DISCLAIMER: I own nothing. Except my OCs. I don't own chapter songs.
~Listen to the chapter songs. They're all sad and/or depressing : (
OH AND UH I WRITE LONG CHAPTERS.
Story Title: Killing In the Name of
Story Summary: Bunny sneered with a disgusted expression. "Why would Manny want a heartless, unfeeling KILLER ta be a Guardian in tha first place?" Morrigan leaned forward armed with a scornful glare, every hushed word dripping with disdain. "I hate that fact that I exist. I hate that I'm only here to kill, because every time I send one to the other side, I can't go with them. I hate myself, Bunny. And I want to die." She tipped her head inquisitively, a dark grin consuming her face. "How 'bout you, kangaroo? You want to die? 'Cuz that can be arranged."
Chapter One: Remorse
Chapter Song: SCAVA by Hollywood Undead
She was an outcast.
All the spirits avoided her upon catching a glimpse of her scythe. She could only remember a few of their faces. There was an overgrown bunny, the spring spirit no doubt, who shot her a look of disgust before quickly departing down one of his rabbit holes - after throwing at her an odd little egg that exploded upon impact. Not one of her favorite spirits. There was a strange tall man wearing a long black robe who stared at her peculiarly before he, too, disappeared in the shadows. There were so many more before him who have glowered upon her, and then left her all alone again. Some of them remained, for which she was grateful, only to beat her senseless before leaving her and never coming back. But they were there, even if for a short, painful time. Therefore there was not room to complain. She never went after them. She understood why they hated her. They hated her for what she was, or at least what they thought she was. She was a killer.
And in a way, she was.
But she couldn't help it. It just… happened. Technically speaking, they were already dead. They were suffering, and she just ended their pain, helping them stop hurting sooner. She merely retrieved the spirits from the corpses and took them over the border. That was all she did. Nothing to drastic or sick about it. And as far as she was concerned, that was all she was good at - and she was good at it. Aside from flying around like a boss and being able to do a few other nifty tricks, that was all she could do in this existence.
She pondered this as she knelt down upon the skyscraper and stared out at the huge city before her. She knew nothing of her past… she wasn't really sure she wanted to anyway. It was probably angst-ridden, and most likely involved her killing someone, because isn't everything like this clichéd in some way? She wasn't ready to see who she was, as she was quite content with who she currently is.
No, she liked it this way.
She didn't really want a past anyway. Morrigan Kali didn't need a past. What good would it be to her? Deadweight, is all.
Morrigan often thought about if her past would show her why she was here; but it was obvious, wasn't it? She was put here to kill. A machine. A murderer. An unfeeling creature: the thrilling, morbid horror story about the Grim Reaper that was told throughout the world. In those stories, she was a skeleton wearing a black robe and a scythe. Well, they got it half right. Although she was really skinny, Morrigan most certainly had flesh. She wore a loose, short black robe that was ornately embroidered with Celtic designs and ancient symbols portraying death and illness. Of course, it was more like a dress if anything. It ended at about her knees, flaring out in a most eccentric manner and revealing more of her black tights. She had a tight-fitting waist belt that looked like small gray and black skulls. Morrigan was fairly pale (she hated sunlight, seeing that the spirit of summer would most likely see her and want to make her extra crispy). She looked to be around sixteen, her long black hair always covering her eyes, which bore dark black makeup around the edges. She had long black hair that was, for whatever reason, neatly styled and adjourned with black ribbons and braids. It looked like an eccentric, awry prom updo, half of it partially braided and trailing down her chest all the way down to her waist, the other parts of it twisted and curled here and there almost as if it were four different people's hairstyles all brought into one in a most uneven manner. But no matter how tacky it seemed, those who could see her before she killed them seemed paralyzed, not out of fear, but out of awe. She was strange and offish, but to such an extent that it was strikingly beautiful, breathtakingly gorgeous. Morrigan knew why she was gifted with this, though. It would help keep them distracted long enough for her to deliver them. So that they would just stare instead of struggle. And she used it to her advantage.
It took time and practice to harden herself so that she didn't break down as she was bringing the scythe down into the squirming humans' chests. It took even longer to get used to the stares she received from the other spirits. Even longer then to get used to the loneliness. Longer still to grow accustomed to the silence.
Whatever. Morrigan didn't need company. She had Raven.
Raven, as her name implies, was a raven who led her to the nearest victims and accompanied her flight in the skies. Sometimes, Morrigan would shape shift into a raven as well and speak to her friend this way.
Then again, Raven wasn't much of a friend. Trustworthy, yes. Relatable, quite. Friendly, not necessarily. They were more like accomplices. Though neither of them wanted to admit that they would do anything for each other if it meant ensuring the safety of the other. A love/hate unfriendly friendship, one might call it, even though it makes almost no sense.
Morrigan and Raven watched as the sun set on the city with keen eyes, searching for spirits who have left their body and were wandering astray, just waiting for deliverance. They were at rest…
That was when those two loons showed up.
Something struck her in the back, sending her spiraling down to the earth before she finally managed to regain her control of the wind, and she hovered over the earth before she landed on the sidewalk. The wooden boomerang used to push her off the ledge fell beside her.
Morrigan gripped her scythe uneasily. It was that rabbit again.
Great.
Raven cawed and landed on Morrigan's shoulder, leaning close to her ear. They've come for you. I sense it. She crowed quietly, causing Morrigan to chuckle. She smirked wickedly. "Have they now?" her low, rich voice lulled devilishly.
Do you think they'll be like that one autumn spirit?
"Falls? I most certainly hope so."
But Falls and her group gave you quite a beating that year. You wish for more?
"It helps."
"Oi! Reaper!" a thick Australian voice shouted at her. And from the top of the roof she was so rudely pushed off of, the Easter Bunny skillfully landed with his other boomerang drawn back, ready to throw at any given moment. His face was set with a snarl, ears pushed back and his furry chest puffed out defensively.
Immediately, Morrigan pulled her hood over her head, concealing her ornately decorated hair as well as hiding her eyes from him. She nonchalantly rested against her scythe, Raven flying over and landing upon the metal part of it. No, it wasn't bloody. She kept it clean as to not scare her victims, so it wouldn't presage their soon-to-be fate.
"Well, well, well. Long time no see, Fur Ball." she caught a glimpse of the pale, white-haired spirit with the blue hoodie landing a little ways behind said fur ball. "Finally managed to make friends, I see. Good for you; though I can't really imagine Spring and Winter being the best of buds, if you know what I mean," aside from that small comment, she paid no heed to the winter spirit. He wasn't her concern at the moment.
"Shut ya mouth, Morgan. We've got a few things ta discuss." Bunny growled harshly, taking a moment to rub his nose as she responded.
"It's Morrigan. Ya know, the Celtic Goddess of death? And here I thought you knew all the spiritual stuff like this. Clearly I was wrong. What do you know aside from painting eggs anyway?"
The winter sprite spoke up curiously. "Wait, what's your name?"
"Morrigan Kali. Or just Morrigan. Or just Kali. Doesn't really matter. Same dif, I suppose." She responded without so much taking a glimpse at the boy. "Now, uh, just outta curiosity…" Morrigan knelt down and twiddled the boomerang in her hand, the other hand gripping her scythe. "What was that for? What ever happened to just dropping by and saying 'allo, mate?"
"You're tha last person I'd wanna say hello to." Bunny growled loathsomely.
"Well… that's not nice. That's not nice at all,"
"No one eva said I had ta be nice to a murdera like you."
Morrigan shook her head and chuckled lightly. "Why you hatin, bro? And, uh, ya mind changing the terminology there, Cottontail? 'Cuz there's a significant difference between reaper and murderer, I'm sure."
Before she could give him a chance to respond with something most likely hurtful but true, she shook her head. "You know what?" her voice was smooth and low, and for whatever reason, sent shivers down the spine faster than any horror story ever could. "Never mind. Here, have your toy back." She threw the boomerang to Bunny and nonchalantly tossed her scythe back and forth between her hands. "Anyway, you said something about a, uh, discussion? Cuz if you were just, as I said, stopping by and saying hello, I'm, ah, pretty busy. You know, blood to spill, people to murder, the works."
The Easter Bunny completely ignored her sardonic statement, and instead glanced back to the winter sprite questioningly, as if reconfirming something. The boy determinedly nodded back and reached inside his pocket.
Raven cawed anxiously. Morrigan readjusted her stance and gripped her scythe with both hands.
"You're comin' with us," Bunny said.
The boy withdrew the dreamsand from his pocket and chucked it at Morrigan's face.
Morrigan collapsed. Raven followed suit.
Author's Note:
NO REVIEWS, NO CONTINUATION. THIS STORY WILL DIE W/O ANY ACKNOWLEDGEMENT. AND I SHALL BE SAD. :( PLEASE AND THANK YOU.
969~696