Time for a dump posting! A chapter for each of my stories! RxR Everybody! You know I live for reviews! And Happy Halloween!
Nyx sipped from the cup of wine. A party in celebration of their most favorite time of the year. Halloween. Her sister was nearby, taking a dainty bite from a puffy pastry filled with fluffy cream. Of the two, she considered herself much more entertaining to hang out with. Her sister was a total bore. Their meister was up on the roof, he had little patience for people, sometimes even against spending time with his demon weapons.
Nyx considered herself lucky considering the power of their meister. A son of the great Shinigami-sama! He was the son of the immortal powerhouse. And Nyx was determined, as was her sister in one of her few showings of emotion, that their meister would not follow the fate of his predecessors. He would be the first of Shinigami's sons to become a true Shinigami and use them as Death Scythes, instead of dying while still only a grim reaper.
The party was now growing into full swing, and she could see as her sister was turning more and more awkward as people began to move into closer quarters with one another. A man walked up quite close to her, obviously intending to ask her to dance.
Akrid was not amused by the party. She could see that her sister was enjoying the party. She always enjoyed everything. Much different than Akrid herself, or their meister. Akuma was rather sociable within certain circles, most particularly among his two demon weapons. Akrid was much the same, having an intense distaste for anybody. Where they differed though was in Akuma's enjoying their companionship, while she merely was forced to tolerate it.
As the man approached, she leveled a deadly glare at him. The man flinched under that glare and continued past, pretending as if that had been his intention all along. Akrid passed her attention away from him once he passed. She had little time for trifling matters.
She couldn't wait for Akuma to come down and identify the individual they were to kill. Stupid Nyx, she thought angrily. It was all Nyx's fault to begin with. She'd convinced Akuma to go to the party rather than simply making the kill and being on their way. Despite her dislike of others, she plain refused to stay away from everybody else and be a social pariah like their meister.
Several minutes passed in which absolutely nothing happened. A party hosted by one of the kingpins of some group or other. "Vito Cascioferro." She whispered, the name coming back to her even as the man himself was revealed to her through a group of his mafioso.
Not all of them were targets. Akuma wanted for them to die in proper order. Ten targets in all.
Akuma wanted them to die good deaths. Strategic ones, good ones, perfect ones, to terrorize Vito, to destroy the mafia in the area. He wanted them to never hurt another group of people again. Despite his inhumanity, despite his eccentric tendencies, he was still a good person, people just often had difficulty seeing past his heritage, and his past.
Akrid took a sip of wine, grimacing at the bitter taste. Dressed in a flowing silver gown, complete with a cream-white veiled hat topping the pristine white hair tied up in a bun at the crown of her head. She felt oddly out of place, despite the fact that she looked perfectly at home. The white mask over her eyes hid the oddness of her vision from the others. She appeared blind, with eyes having a white veil over the pale green and liquid silver irises and pupil. Even her skin reflected the pattern of purity, being incredibly pale, as if the sun had never touched her in her life.
She was the exact opposite of her sister. Nyx, with her long midnight hair tied into a heavy braid down her back, almost twice as far as Akrid's hair could go when it wasn't tied. Her skin was a deep, sensual tan, remaining that same color no matter how little or how much she was out in the sun. Much of her skin was covered by tight black leathers, her preferred choice of clothing no matter the circumstance. Her face was hidden behind a large, demonic black mask, covering the majority of her face compared to the smaller mask only covering her sister's eyes. Nyx also chose to keep her eyes more visible, allowing some of the oil of her sclera to show, matching the demon acuity of her irises and pupils of smoky, darkness laden red.
They were a matched set, similar, but completely different. Akrid was cold, calculating, precise, not leaving anything to chance. Nyx was a free spirit, enjoying even the miniscule things, simply allowing life to take her along for a ride with it.
Minutes turned into hours before a shadow passed across the large, stained-glass windows.
Akrid moved over to her sister. "Time's up. Hope you enjoyed your party. Now we can finally get some work done."
"Work, work, work," Nyx sighed. "That's all you ever talk about. I swear you have wet dreams about it. Let's just kill the bastards." Both of them held their hands up over their heads, a simple foot away from one of the windows.
As their hands lifted, Akuma threw himself through the glass in a front flip, grabbing onto each of their hands. They transformed into their weapon forms quickly.
Akrid's body changed into a rather large, silver revolver, about the length of his arm, that fit perfectly into his hand. Engraved along the barrel was the simple word Ten.
Nyx altered and became a long katana, with a blade almost three feet in length alone. The hilt added almost another foot, being designed to be wielded with body hands. Akuma only used a single hand. Just above the guard of the weapon was another word, the word Yomi.
Akuma landed on a table on the edge of the room, glaring death down on the patrons of the party. He lifted Akrid and whispered, "Boo."
Before any of the gangsters could react, he was already among them. First target, a lowlife, the equivalent of a mobster lieutenant. He was dead before he realized just what kind of vision of death had swept over the party. His head hit the floor as the first screams rang out.
The women cried out in fear and fled from the scene as the mobster men started to run to hidden weapon caches. The head of the snake was already being escorted upstairs. Akuma could easily have taken the shot with Akrid, she had more than enough power to be accurate at that range. But that would have been too impersonal. Death was something final. And a person should always be exposed to the vision of their death. Death was a work of beauty, and guns were just so messy, and lacking of finesse.
The second to die tried to put up a fight. Akuma slipped by his guard effortlessly and flicked his blade to the side to clear the blood off of Nyx's length. Even as he walked among the gangsters, Akuma sucked the souls of the departed into his body to be stored through his konso, until he had leisure to divvy them among the sisters.
As he moved, Akuma continued kept his mind fine tuned to watch for the souls of his targets. Unfortunately, none of them had remained downstairs.
The mafiosos open fired as he leapt up the stairs. Not a bullet came near to him. As they began to give chase, he barreled down the hallway and smacked his shoulder up against the door and burst into the chamber. He immediately backtracked and stepped back out of the chamber to avoid the bullet storm that came to assail him.
Not one of the bullets passed even close to hitting him. He was nowhere they thought and everywhere they feared. Before they thought of where else he might be, as they reloaded their weapons, he lunged into the room.
Some of the faster to react among them realized that he would be among them long before they could reload their weapons. They drew knives and bats and rushed him, hoping for support from the back. One of the knives dropped towards his face, Akrid's long heavy body protected him, taking the hit and sliding it away harmlessly.
Nyx's slender length cracked through his ribcage without slowing in the slightest. He slammed Akrid against another of the men's face, one he had no reason to kill. A flip lifted him up over the group, and Nyx flashed briefly, before two more of the fell, run through the heart with a perfect thrust apiece.
A pair of brass knuckles nearly clove a line down Akuma's cheek. He made that attacker suffer the loss of both of his arms. His life was spared however.
Akrid was of the mind that anybody who got in their way, especially if they were evil humans, such as these gangsters, should be killed without hesitation. After all, they were evil, and they were in the way. Nyx's thoughts weren't much different. She loved battle, and the excitement coursed through her whenever their lives were endangered.
Akuma however, believed that death was something beautiful. Each death should be something to match. When he fought, it was the same way that artists held their paintbrushes. His every movement was calculated out a dozen steps in advance, and he was never touched throughout.
Akuma moved among the gangsters like a ghost. Never touched, hardly seen. His targets were dead and he was gone. A good death did not always involve interaction. Many of the best deaths were from afar. It only mattered that they die beautifully, many of them were infinitely complex, lacking the purity of simplicity for the accuracy of beauty.
After the death of his targets, leaving Vito Cascioferro alive to suffer the fear of the deadly shadow that had come in and proven just how little control he really had, Akuma flicked both weapons to clean them. Nine kills, with five others left in the room alive and knocked out.
Akuma walked over to Vito and slammed Akrid's body down on the desk in front of him. "Do it." He whispered.
Vito stared at the man, a slight trembling in his hand as he reached for the weapon. He chose the stupid and thrust the gun at Akuma and pulled the trigger. Nyx's length separated the man's hand from his wrist, and then thrust over and slammed against the man's other wrist, lifting it above his table and then slamming down and piercing through the palm, pinning it to the wooden desk.
"It's a shame." Akuma sighed. "I was giving you a chance to begin to redeem yourself. 'The pure of heart pass on to heaven. The wicked join us in hell.'" With the refusal to take his own life and be redeemed in Ten, heaven. There was only one choice. To be sent to Yomi, hell.
Nyx flickered and a fountain of blood and smoke sprouted as the evil one's head separated from his shoulders.
Akuma drew the soul into his body, storing it with konso to be given to his weapons later. There were still numerous others in the house, and he didn't want to ruin such a perfect group of kills with more unneeded blood.
Of course one of the mobsters had to ruin it. Akuma heard the click behind him and threw himself forward before the line of bullets chased after him. Akrid and Nyx went back into human form and hid with him behind the desk. They weren't afraid of the hail of bullets. They had a much greater fear.
"Don't worry about it Kid." Nyx used the same term of endearment that Shinigami-sama had named his son long ago.
One of the few times that emotion would creep into Akrid's tone was at times like this. She tried a soothing tone, to placate the aura seeping out from around Akuma. "Come on, it's not that bad. He was just trying to do his job, he didn't mean it."
Both of their voices were laced with fear. Now was not a good time. Especially to be an enemy within the house.
"Akrid, Nyx, weapon forms, now." AKuma's voice was sharp enough to cut through the noise of the gun. The two shared a look before submitting. Akuma stood and then his mind went black.
A small drop of blood ran its way down his cheek. That single drop set him off the edge. He was neurotic about perfection, not to the same degree as his predecessor had been, with his OCD.
AKuma did not suffer the same, but his vision of perfection reflected mostly upon himself. And if there was anything he hated, it was a flaw upon his person. He hated when people touched him, and he hated when he was cut. Messing up his clothing and hair could be fixed quickly, but if he was cut, it was distinctly possible that the injury would scar.
A scar was the worst thing he could imagine, simply because the chance that it would be a perfect scarring was almost nonexistent.
Nyx and Akrid closed their vision to the battle at this point. There was no threat to Akuma any longer, not when he was like this. There was nothing that could hurt him, nothing to be found within this house, and possibly nothing from the human experience that could touch him.
He truly lived up to his name, and he lived up to his title as a Grim Reaper, a son of Shinigami-sama himself.
He was more than just a meister. He was a master of death.
He was the son of Shinigami-sama.
He was a demon in human guise.
He was Akuma.