Death in Four Acts
This performance needs more... zazz.
With a twirl, Jhin leaped to the front of the stage with such grace that the crowd exclaimed with surprise. He slithered about the obstacles and performers, dancing with each as he passed. It was strenuous—as perfection is—but the audience's rising arousal filled him with such a vigor that would have him inexhaustible; after all, he would not be denied his Ultimate Performance.
Jhin finessed his way to the peak of the lighthouse, where an actor stood before him; this was the very He who deemed Jhin's art as "pompous" and "superfluous."
Excellent. Jhin could think of an irony no greater than this, for this ignorant heathen to play the progenitor role in his finest masterpiece. He gazed upon the faces of the audience and of his "fellow actors," all painted with expressions of elation and awe.
Yes, the time is now. Their expressions would be immortalized; all they were missing was color.
Jhin drew his weapon in one hand and pointed it directly between His eyes while outstretching the other to the sea of excited faces. The crowd roared in anticipation, and a rush filled him.
The actor before him held out his arms and gave his crudely rehearsed plea for mercy. Jhin looked upon him in contempt, though his mask would show only a smile—this man was unworthy of the Theatre.
Jhin closed his eyes, and took a deep inhale. The crowd's energy was intoxicating, with a fervor that emboldened Jhin with such a surge of insurmountable euphoria that he now felt insatiable with lust. His tongue watered, his muscles tensed, and the weapon in his hand suddenly felt weightless and loose, but from his mask all the man before him could see were the dilated pupils of Jhin's eyes.
Bang.
The body toppled over and hit the stage with a thud. It was a much better performance than He would've "acted." The crowd fell appropriately silent to let the Theatre strum the echo of the corpse's introduction.
How considerate of them.
Jhin held his pose as the echoes came to a murmur, and his onlookers marveled upon him in mutual confusion. He opened his eyes, and shifted his piercing gaze to the other performers; his weapon would promptly follow. It was then that the sheep on stage finally understood their role in this Performance. They began to retreat slowly from him, and the firing continued.
Immediately, the crowd burst out in frenzy, rekindling the blaze of Jhin's exhilaration. One by one, Jhin struck down his contemporaries in ecstatic jubilation, never missing a shot as he did.
Two, three, four, reload, he counted as he continued his deadly flourish. Each bullet, is a song.
Meanwhile, his quite captive audience scrambled toward the exits, but to no avail, as the Lotus Traps blossomed beneath them. In an instant, an atmosphere of scarlet erupted from the seats of the Theatre, enveloping Jhin with the aroma of iron and sweet felicity.
Divine.
The audience, now disoriented and in chaos, rushed in all directions like mice in a fire. A woman emerged from beneath Jhin, grasping onto the stage for support. "Why?!" she cried out in horrified anguish. Jhin knelt before her and with a hand caressed her cheeks. "Beauty is pain darling," he assured her as his eyes sunk into hers; "art requires a certain, cruelty." He put the barrel of his weapon to her throat.
Bang.
As the screams rang throughout the Theatre in rhythmic song, Jhin could feel that his Performance was nearly complete. There was however, one act missing for the completion of this composition. It was time for the Curtain Call.
"Places everyone, places!" Jhin instructed as he assembled his rifle. "It's time… for your finale!" A man emerged from the chaos pointing at him, calling him a madman. "All artists are mad!" Jhin replied over the crowd with pride. "Art must exist beyond reason!"
Bang.
Jhin then aimed his rifle up at a trip wire along the ceiling and fired. Upon breaking, curtains along the wall windows opened, revealing a series of sentries that immediately opened fire upon the audience.
Closing his eyes, Jhin held his arms out to the spotlight above him and hummed in bliss as the screams of his captives grew louder and louder before suddenly falling to a haunting silence.
The bodies lie still, creating a mosaic of beautiful torment, their blood intertwining into ultimate concert. The walls and wood of the Theatre now matched fluidly with the velvet drapes, and as the curtain came down upon the stage, a fall of Lotus petals fluttered down over the masterpiece.
Mmmm... the ecstasy of killing.