Depths of Both Sides
Vengeful Marionette
(Pre SDR2, I don't own SDR2.)
Blood. Blood was everywhere, splattered across the walls, seeping into every crevice imaginable. The wooden floor seemed to be lacquered with the liquid, layers upon layers of the color. The air stank, made of the combined scent of blood, sweat, and vile, stifling in the enclosed space.
With the smothering heat of fresh death permeating the space, the place alone would have made any normal person insane.
That was where he was, in a death trap full of anarchy.
The sequence of events had started in the beginning of the so-called test of 'hope'. Everything started unraveling then: their sanity, their trust, their integrity.
And deteriorated to the tar pit known as despair.
He was in one of the many classrooms in the locked space. It really did not matter which particular classroom he was in, though. They were so utterly similar, down to the splatters of blood. He slid his fingers across one of the desks, the rough wooden surface smeared with sticky pink.
He could hear them now, the shattering screams echoing around the hall, ingraining into the walls.
"...I-I, DON'T, WANT, TO, DIE!"
"IT'S NOT, MY FAULT!"
"SAAAAAAAAAAAAAAVE MEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"
The sickening screeches reached to desperate garbled gibberish, shrieks and wails of anguish spiralling to absolute dismalness. Curling his lips, he uttered two words.
"How vile."
He straightened his pristine shirt cuffs. The sweat was making them stick to his skin, even though he had taken off his black dress jacket. His hair wasn't helping either with his battle, a cascade of black hanging languidly over his back.
It was then when he heard an irregular sound among the cacophony, that pf soft rythmic taps almost buried under the shrieking. He paused, focusing on that tiny piece of oddity, a nice break from all the senseless chaos.
One, two, one, two went the sound. Pit-pat pit-pat went the steps of an average high school student that was probably behind him at this moment.
Ah, how boring it was to figure that out.
An iron pipe swung and faltered, going through empty space where a head was a moment ago. The boy with the cascade of black hair was already long out of reach, having jumped to the other side of the classroom. The assailant, a blood splattered male, merely gazed at him with blank eyes, slowly raising his pipe once more.
The attacker looked more like a corpse than a person, his eyes devoid of life. With shuffling gaits, he moved slowly towards him, one step after another-
And stopped as a hand penetrated his throat.
The assailant gaped like a water-hungry fish, moving his mouth to form silent words as all movement disappeared from his fresh corpse. Disgusted, the previously bored boy quickly slid his hand out of the body with a sickening squelch.
It unnerved him, how easy and fast to extinguish the life. How he had done what all the others had done, to walk the road of insanity. How he had allowed to be controlled so easily.
It sickened him to no end.
He turned away, running out of the occupied classroom. The nightmarish scenery blurred together into one big tunnel, as he sprinted off to nowhere.
An empty corridor. Turn left. Dead end. Go back.
Blood blood blood blood blood.
Wild breaths forced themselves up from his chest, bursting into short gasps. His hair streaking behind him like a wayward streamer.
Why did such a place exist? Why was he stuck here? For what ends? Again, the answer flowed to him with ease.
For the sake of despair.
As he ran, a shadow jumped in front of him, brandishing an axe. His body moved on instinct, a sharp blow to dislocate the wrist, then a quick jerk of his hands to break the neck.
CRACK.
The snap of bone woke him up from his dazed state, leaving him with another carcass at his feet. The tortured expression, the glazed dull eyes with slight foam at the edge of its mouth, seared into his eyelids.
He collapsed to his knees, unable to take his eyes off from the corpse. His crimson pupils were wavering, the light flickering in and out of focus.
Friends slaughtering friends. The frightened murdering the brave. Strong wills eroded by insanity, lurching around killing everything they see.
What did they accomplish? What did their their beliefs, thoughts, actions bring?
Nothing.
The whole thing was meaningless, resulting in a pile of senseless deaths and kills.
And he was helpless to do anything about it. In fact, he was used as a stepping stone, a puppet, to bring out despair to the world. The exact opposite of his existence.
All for the amusement of a mad girl.
A sudden feeling surged inside of him, an emotion of titanic magnitude that weighed him to agonizing reality.
A tidal wave of crushing, crushing despair.
He sat there, not moving until his 'teachers' had found him, splattered with blood and staring at a corpse without focus.
Getting hauled by his arms, Izuru Kamukura ony had one thing in mind.
'I will get my revenge.'