In advance, I apologize for the length of the A/N. I realize I'm not nearly as interesting as the story, but I feel some of this is rather important.

Well, that took a while. My longest yet. Bow down before the awesome blinds you. Also, the council may blind you with sheer confusion. It used to be a longer discussion, if you can believe it. (Not that hard to-*whack*) But I wanted to spare you poor mortals the insanity.

Definition:

chef-d'oeuvre : A masterpiece, especially in literature or art.

Before I continue, I'd like to thank all my reviewers, alerters, and favoriters. Please PM me if I haven't replied to your reviews. To Pink star (who is anonymous), "No, it is not. By my hands, Rin shall suffer! *insert evil laugh here* thank you for reviewing!" To shole, who is also anonymous, this disclaimer is for you.

WARNING: Blood, and general insanity.

Disclaimer: Anybody who thought I was the owner of Vocaloid is an idiot. However, if you happen to read this, you are exempt from the general idiocy. And yes, drabbles are rather short.

Word Count: 1025

Walk of Insanity

.

IV. Chef-d'oeuvre

.

The boy sat in the center of everything.

The basement he had lived in since who-knows(nobody knows, not anymore)-when stank of stale blood. Dried blood of long-ago kills splattered the walls, used as ink to depict senseless designs. Circles, arches, trees, humans. Rocking back and forth on his haunches, he grinned psychotically and traced a picture in the air. The boy was facing a blank spot in his bloody chef-d'oeuvre, and as time passed, he began to giggle madly.

"What to do, what to do? There's so many ways…" He rocked faster, and giggled again. "I want… I want her to despair. I want her to become just like me so that I won't be alone. But what to do…" He stood up, and waved his arm in a grandiose manner. "Minna-san! Today, I have great news! I have some great news!" Immediately, excited whispering filled his abode.

The boy giggled. "Settle down, settle down," The whispering ceased. "As I was saying, there's an exciting piece of information I stumbled upon!" His wicked grin blossomed on his face. "I've found another member of our auspicious court!"

Shouts of awe and surprise surrounded him. But then, the boy placed a hand over his eyes, and tipped his head up in despair, "But! She has not been broken!"

Silence reigned again, and the boy reveled at the attention of sixty five pairs of eyes on his frame.

His grin reappeared. He let his arm drop down, and looked down at his court, turning slowly in a full circle to meet each face.

"You see the problem? This is where you guys come in." He could feel their confusion, even if they didn't express it verbally. "It seems I am in need of some… help. I need to come up with the perfect way to bring her over, but I cannot come up with one."

Voices overlapped each other, and the boy walked over to the blank patch on his wall and began to draw with blood as his advisors quibbled.

"We should drown her-" "Always drowning with you, you bastard. No, she needs to be burnt like the elementary school- " "WhOlE wOrLdS gOnNa DiE dOeSn'T mAtTeR." "Shut up you imbicile electricution-""Chopchopchopchopchop…" "Um… I think poison would suffice." "You're too soft." "Why do you insist on picking on me? Poison doesn't necessarily-" "I tOlD yOu It'S-" "bRoThEr ShuT uP aNd LiStEn To ThE bLoOd SiNg." "You guys are thinking about this wrong, we have to break her before she joins us." "No, no, she's gotta drown so we can watch the bubbles fade away…" "What are you thinking?" "Chopchopchopchopchop…" "Not you, you imbicle." "We must break her mind before we break her soul."

The boy focused on his work, relishing the sound his hand made as he dipped it into his bucket of blood and smeared it across the cement in a pattern that became clearer as time progressed. He hummed very softly as he worked, loud enough to drown out the quiet arguments but soft enough to hear the liquid of life go dripppping dowwnnn the walls.

It was hours before he finished his painting. "You have come to a decision?"

"WE HAVE." The said collectively.

He smirked malevolently. "Tell me."

The boy was elated-it was perfect! He placed his still-bloody hands in his pant pockets and giggled as he strode out of the room.

The bloody painting seemed to glow an ominous red while sixty-five heads watched their Executioner depart.