Heya hey! Welcome to Chapter 8 of 'Linked'! So, I finally got inspired due to my fans and, well, er, I'm gonna try and see if I can write an actual book. Yeah! I know, crazy, right? It may star our beloved Carroll and all his creepiness. I'm going to try and write it in thirty days, starting May the 1st. Wish me luck! Well, with that aside, let us commence forthwith with Chapter 9 of 'Linked'!

Disclaimer: D. Gray-Man is property of Katsura Hoshino and Funimation. This series is a parody and nothing more, so please support the official release. Got it? Damn well better.


8. Broken Wings

Everything was sore. He couldn't feel his right hand, and he didn't know why. He was blind, but he knew there was some light. There had to be some, he couldn't have been stuck in utter darkness for so long. He wouldn't have been able to bear it if were. His back ached with an unfamiliar pain that he had. Where was it coming from?

Where… am I?

His left hand grabbed at something, something that felt warm but wet at the same time. His hand reeled back as the thing screamed, screamed loudly in the manner that the kid whom he disliked so much. It didn't stop even as he got to his feet and started to try to talk to whatever it was. It didn't listen to him when he asked for it to stop. Instead, the thing swatted him across the face, causing him to land on something sharp. By his guess, it was broken pieces of glass.

The thing screeched louder, which caused the apprentice Bookman to clasp his left hand over one of his ears. The right absolutely refused to move no matter how hard he tried. He was an open target as the thing seemed to flap.

Flapping? A bird…? He moved his hand away from his ear as a gust of wind came from nowhere and seemed to tear at his skin. His cheeks, once the gust was gone, dripped with a red liquid that ran down his chin and to the floor or ground or whatever he was standing on beneath him. It screamed again, then unexpectedly stopped, which caused a pause that was far too long for the redhead's liking. There was a sound of wings moving, then another cry of something inhuman, then silence as Lavi fell to his knees.

Something inside him was moving. It was painful and made him want to cry out for someone. He clasped at one of his shoulders before yelling something, possibly a name, but he couldn't hear his own voice anymore. Everything was deaf to him. He couldn't even remember his own name.

Ow, ow, ow! What the hell is this?! Why does my back…!?

He cried out loudly again before his back had a sudden splitting feeling. It cut down to his heart and he felt, for a moment, as if every nerve in his system was being torn into five separate pieces.

His eyes, the same blind eyes, opened up slowly to see a mirror below him that was splattered and stained with blood, but he could still make out his reflection amongst it. His eyes had blood-tears running down his cheeks, his fingers were longer than normal, and his wings… He stared at the reflection a bit longer before his left hand clasped at one of the black, feathery pieces of matter that were attached to his back.

He didn't want to see that. He didn't want to feel that. It was painful, the way there was light everywhere. He wanted to go somewhere away from the light and away from everything he knew and even away from his friends.

His hand rose to break the mirror. It was glass. It was fragile. It would break easily, one punch, and he would fall, and he knew it.

"…LAVVVVIIIIII!"

His hand stopped.

Everything stopped.

It was gone in a flash. The reflection, the mirror, the blood. It was all replaced with a feeling of being awake and alive. His eyes had fallen blind again. He breathed heavily out of relief. For a moment, it seemed as if he had forgotten who he was. Now, he remembered that he was Lavi and not whoever that was. That was just a dream… But who was that saying my name?

He tried to move his hands but couldn't. He blinked once, then realized that he couldn't move at all.

Fuck. That kid did get the best of me, again! He growled through his gag and glared at nothing, but it felt good to glare at that moment. He really thinks I'm whatever he thinks I am. A Fallen Angel or whatever. Fallen One? Yeah, that's what it is…

He sniffed around a little. Judging by the smells, he was somewhere that was old or run-down, but the bog-smell still reached his nose as well. So he was still there. Knowing an eight-year-old kid, he was probably even close to wherever he lived as well. There was no way a kid, even as strong as Carroll was, could drag him or carry him that far without getting exhausted.

The question now was, what was he thinking? If Carroll really wanted to kill him, then he could have taken something sharp and stabbed him in the back while he was trying to find that supposed blanket in the closet. So maybe that kid wasn't a sociopath, after all. He doubted that the kid had ever taken a life before, anyways. A new sociopath? Or maybe he was just blind in the fact that he thought he was doing something good for the world by killing him…

Lavi groaned. He didn't know what to think of him anymore. Crazy or not, Carroll was still a kid. He couldn't hurt a kid unless they were an Akuma, and that was the only way he would even think about it. He would have to figure out a way to break the kid away from his delusional fantasy.

But there was the obvious question that rested in his mind-- How? He couldn't talk anymore, what with the rope and all. He groaned once more, annoyed, then tried to free his hands.

Oh, right. He thought as he tried to move his right hand. It's paralyzed. I can't move it at all… Fuck! So what am I going to do now?! Lay around and hope someone will find me?! I sure as hell ain't going to do that!

He swallowed hard.

Well, what else can I do? I'm useless right now. I can't do anything…

Something that sounded like a bird caused him to jump a little.

Shit. Lenalee… Yuu-chan… Allen… Please, one of you… This time, I can't do it by myself anymore. He moved his left hand a bit, but couldn't get it free. Help me.


The sounds of a piano drew him in. He didn't know why, but pianos spoke to him quite well. They were… enchanting, to say the very least. None of the others, not even that girl named Jenna, seemed to care about it. None of them paid the very least bit of attention to it. He, however, had even stopped cleaning to listen in on it.

He walked slowly out of the room, curiosity getting the best of him, as the piano suddenly stopped and was replaced by the unpleasant sound of yelling. His Mistress was angry at someone or something, he couldn't tell what. There was a loud crash, a thud, then silence. Mutters were heard from where he stood, all from his Mistress's mouth, saying how worthless the thing was. He creaked open the door to see a doll, one that was like him, talking to the Mistress in a fearful sort of voice.

"P-Please, I swear I'll do b-better next time--"

Abigail raised her hand and slapped the doll across the cheek with great force, one that was hard enough to make Allen flinch a little. "This is the fourth time you made a mistake, Sierra!" He could hear her say, then another slap was heard. He couldn't see his Mistress completely, but he did see the hand swat the doll-like girl. "How many times have I told you to not disturb me when playing the piano?!"

That caused Allen to back away from the door a bit, but the nag to know what was going to happen next kept him close to the door.

"I-I'm so sorry--"

There was the sound of a clap, one that a book would make when it's being slammed onto a table, and the sound of something being erased vigorously. Allen's eyes widened as he watched the doll-like girl shriek loudly and curl up in pain. She started to flop like a fish, gagging and begging and pleading for her Mistress to stop, and then it was over. The doll, Sierra, became silent after her head managed to turn and look at Allen. Her eyes were unmoving in an eerie way.

"Honestly, this one ticks me off. No matter how many personalities I make for her, she always messes up in such a way…" She grabbed the doll by the hair and dragged her off through another door. Allen swallowed hard, not knowing whether or not what he wanted to do was right, then stepped out from behind the door and entered the door across the way that his Mistress had entered.

It was dark, barely any light, as Allen walked down the old stairway and followed his Mistress to an even-darker room. He could barely see anything in front of him, which scared him even more. Then a candle, two, ten, twenty, to even fifty candles were lit, and the room glowed with light. He hid behind the wall of the entry way, but he was able to see just enough to know what was going on.

What he saw horrified him.

There were many cages, some of which contained doll parts, some of which contained outfits and various other fabric-like things, and others that contained dolls like him, but their eyes were out of focus and there body parts seemed broken. Several of them had whole limbs torn off and were still bleeding out.

He did a double-take.

B-Blood? T-The ones in the cages… Are humans?!

Abigail hummed a little song as she placed the limp doll onto a table and pulled out a knife, one that looked like a doctor would use, and began to cut the left arm off. Blood began to spill from the wound and onto the floor. The smell lingered up in the air and made Allen want to run back upstairs, but his eyes couldn't look away, not even for a moment to recover.

She took the left arm and began to peel the flesh off, then the fat, all the way down to the bone. She hummed louder as she dumped the bone in a bucket of water before dragging the girl off the table and dragged her towards one of the cages. She placed her in there and re-locked the door before sighing and wiping off her blood-covered hands.

Allen was going to be sick.

Abigail walked slowly towards the bucket and pulled out the soaking bone of the left arm and whistled as she pulled out a piece of paper and rested it on the table. She broke off one of the fingers-- the pointer finger --and rested it off to one side. She then opened a drawer that was in the desk and pulled out several more bones. One was carved into an arm. Two were carved into what looked like to be legs, and the final piece was made into a head.

She… uses bones to make the smaller dolls…?! Allen's thoughts made him scared as she hummed along and carved the newly-cut-off finger into another arm. How… How can she do that?! Mistress is a… is a…

He couldn't finish his thought as his Mistress suddenly turned her head to where he was watching from. He ducked his head and pressed his back up against the wall, trying to calm down his breathing. He could hear her footsteps drawing closer, which made more adrenaline pump into his system and caused him to lose control of his breathing.

"Whose there?" she asked as she stepped closer to the door. "Show yourself!"

Allen was about to move when a hand shoved him back to his hiding space.

"It's me, Richard."

Allen heard the footsteps stop. "Richard? Why are you down here?"

The solemn boy closed his eyes and his head bowed slightly. "My apologies to disturb you, but it is almost time for you to go to the marketplace. I did not want you to be later than you are right now."

She seemed to chuckle as Allen relaxed. He could hear her walking back to where she came from. "Yes, of course. Thank you, Richard. Make sure to close the door on your way out."

Richard bowed, then closed the door and grabbed Allen by the wrist. "You mustn't go down there anymore," he said as they proceeded up the stairs in a hurried manner. "Mistress Abigail, even though she loves dolls, can be quite irate if she finds one of you lurking about in her private chambers, and especially that one." There was a pause as Richard glanced over his shoulder to see Allen biting his lower lip. "…Listen, Allen. If you do your best, that won't happen to you."

Silence ensued as they managed to get out of the stairway and back into the main room. Richard closed the door behind him as he grabbed Allen by the collar. "Listen to me," he said in a firm tone of voice. "You are not to go back down there, ever. You will not speak of it. You will not think of it. You will act as if you never say a thing. Do you understand me? Because if not, you are going to be the next one to be thrown into the cages."

He nodded slowly, but didn't quite understand what Richard meant, despite how clear his language was.

"Good. Now, go back into the room where Sylvia and Willow and the others are-- It's almost time for the market."

Allen nodded again and returned to the room. Sylvia and Willow were now playing a game of cards with Seth, and the Jenna-doll was still sitting there, staring at the flame that the candle on the small desk was producing. A thought him then-- Why do her children allow her to do such a thing?

His brain wracked over it, despite the fact that Richard told him to do otherwise, and frowned. He didn't understand at all.

The door opened wide and hit the wall with a mighty 'slam'. Abigail stood there, dressed in lavender and pink. She wore a white sun hat that had a lavender ribbon that wrapped around it. In her hands was a purple parasol. She smiled at her children and then at her dolls. "Allen Walker, Jenna Collier! It's time to follow me to the market."

Jenna was, surprisingly, the first to rise from her seat and motioned Allen to also do so, but he was plastered to the spot at the sight of his Mistress. The more he thought the less he understood about anything that was happening.

"Allen?"

He snapped out of his state and smiled sheepishly at his Mistress. "S-Sorry. I'm coming."

She smiled sweetly at him as she opened up her parasol and stepped outside, a big-looking bag slung over her shoulder. He and Jenna, along with several others that were like them, followed her out into the crowded street and towards their destination. In an instant, people from the crowd began to follow her as she continued onwards. He could hear the chatter among them, which made him at unease.

"Momma, Momma! It's that lady again! Can we get a doll this time?"

"She's been increasingly popular nowadays. Maybe I should get one."

"Doesn't anyone know where she lives?"

Allen swallowed hard. These people had no clue of as to what she made the dolls out of. The thought of him being made by the same material made him die a little inside as a sudden gust of wind came by and blew off his top hat.

"Ah--!"

He couldn't chase after it. The crowd was too big to even push pass. Abigail looked back to see him absent without it and smiled as she pulled out a new one and placed it on his head. "There, now," she said as Allen tried not to flinch away. "See to it that you don't lose this one to the wind as well."

He thanked her quietly as she smiled sweetly before turning back and walking towards the marketplace. He couldn't help but look back to see where his old top hat had gone, but it was nowhere to be seen amongst the crowd. He figured someone must have picked it up.

He followed along quietly as they walked by an old man singing an eerie tune--

"One beat, two beats, three beats, four. We are the Children of a lonely store. We cannot hear you, we cannot see you, we can only yearn to be human once more…"


He didn't do much so as to ask people around if they had seen a redheaded-idiot or a teenager with white hair before he got bored and decided it was time to eat something. He didn't know why Lenalee thought he would be able to find anything if she couldn't. It was possible that she was thinking a fresh set of eyes would do their rescue-search some good, but as it turned out, it didn't.

His 'search' wound him up at the edge of the bog. It was pretty large-- it extended beyond his horizon line. He frowned as he looked at a sign that was partially hidden by trees:

"NEXT TOWN: 45 MILES (KNOWN AS THE "BOG TOWN")

PLEASE REMEMBER TO NOT LITTER THE BOG. THANK YOU."

He frowned. The thought of walking across forty-five miles worth of bog did not sound appealing to him at all. He would need Lenalee's help to get there in a quick and logical amount of time, otherwise, he could end up walking around aimlessly for days. His frown deepened as he turned around and walked back towards the center of the town. He would have to figure how to persuade Link to allow her to do that, though, without him there.

Che. This is more tedious than dealing with Komui on a bad day.

He kicked around at the dirt as he noticed the sun was sinking far too deeply for his liking. He would have to continue searching tomorrow and return to the inn for the day. Hopefully, Lenalee and Link would have already been there so that he could discuss his plans with them.

He kicked a rock which hit something that he didn't expect to find on the street-- A top hat. It looked worn from being stepped on and lying on the dirt. He picked it up, annoyed that someone would leave something like a top hat on the ground for him to see. He was about to throw it away when he noticed a small, silver hair on the black fabric inside. He pulled it out and immediately recognized it: Fuck, this is Allen's hair!

He turned around and called out his name, but there was no response. He grimaced. The idiot was probably in danger. There was no way he would wear a top hat, unless prompted by Lenalee to do so. He frowned deeper as he decided to keep the top hat in his hand and looked around more. There was no sign of a midget with white hair that was actually a teenager who went by the name of Allen Walker.

Che. I'll show this to Lenalee, then we can see what we can do from here on out. I just hope she didn't do anything stupid, like getting lost…

He proceeded to the inn as people moved away from him and his glare. His thoughts continued despite him not wanting them to.

Or getting hurt, for that matter.


Enh. That was an okay chapter. But! Aside from that! So! Did you like it? Hate it? Love it? Destroy it? Hit me with a review, por favor! It is very greatly appreciated! See you all later in Chapter 9! (Crap, this is gonna be like 'Niveous Sky' and turn out to be twenty or so chapters…) --K.S.