Sistine: *Sistine, Rainbow Dash, Patty, and Alice sat at a table. At the center of the table a crystal ball rested it a golden bowl. Sistine waved her hands over the ball.* Okay everyone. Are we ready to contact the die.
Dash: Bring on the ghost!
Alice: Let see the fraud at work.
Patty: As ready as I'll ever be!
Sistine: Alright then. Everyone start humming. *The three girls stared to hum an eerie tone, though Alice did it with half closed lids.* Oh great crystal ball! I seek an audience from the great beyond. We don't care who you send just send us someone to talk to. *To the earthly audience surprise a image started to form in the crystal ball. A cellphone appeared.*
Crystal ball: *In a polite female voice.* We're sorry but the dead is currently unable at the moment. Please leave a message and the next ghost will haunt you as soon as possible. Beep. *The girls stared at the ball in disbelief.*
Dash: That was anticlimactic.
Sistine: *Throwing arms into the air.* For God's sake, how can every ghost in the after life be busy. There must be billions of them with nothing better to do. *Sighing.* Well, I hope the readers enjoy the chapter more then we enjoy this.
Chapter Twenty
Warm. He felt unusually warm. Why, he couldn't tell. Darkness shrouded his eyes, leaving him blind. Crona would have found this strange if something else hadn't already preoccupied him. The ground beneath him felt soft, brittle. As if dry grass brush against his skin. That couldn't be possible for he was in a stone room, struggling with the demon swordswoman.
Speaking of the girl, he wondered what happened to her. One moment he had her in his grip and the next he winded up…where ever here was. If he could find a light source he should be able to figure out the where part. "It might help if you open your eyes."The crisp voice sounded like the girl but something about it was off.
"My eyes aren't close," Crona said out loud. The voice didn't response. Having no better ideas, he opened his eyes. "Never mind," he muttered. Staring upward, gray clouds threatening to rain filled his vision. Het up on his elbows and scanned the skies in hope of seeing the sun. Instead, the clouds obscured the entire sky.
A light breeze blew a strand of hair into his eye. Pushing the strands away, he took a good look at his environment. Tall, yellow-brown grass blanketed leveled ground. Off in the distance a scrawny tree bear of leafs stood in solitude. For what seemed like miles Crona watched the earth disappear into a gray horizon. To him it looked as if he was teleported onto a prairie.
Getting to his feet, Crona stared at the emptiness before him. The high pitch squeak of floor boards drew his eyes over his shoulder. Turning around to get a better look, Crona gazed curiously at the structure before him.
A wide, two story house, might even be consider a small mansion, stood not quite a hundred yards away. Time showed no mercy to the structure. Holes the size of his head dotted the chipped, weathered, blue painted walls. The right side of a small porch collapsed inward. Planks covered many of the smash windows on the first and second floor. A red brick chimney missing enough bricks to be seen from here poke out of the roof. Large chunks of the roof tiles had been ripped away. The house appeared to be long abandon but on the top floor in the last window-glass intact- on the right. A light was on.
As Crona looked the mansion over a cold depression descend on him. He knew that the mansion caused the change of mood. Due to this he felt little need to get close to it. However, a small voice at the back his mind egged him forward. Taking one last look of the surrounding area, he saw he had little choice. With the lack of civilization the mansion was his only hope on figuring out what going on.
"Better get going," he said just to make some noise. Except for the soft breeze the world was absent of sound. The crunching of grass joined in as he walked toward the porch. As he near it the uneasy feeling of being unwelcome started to grow. Glancing over his shoulder, he didn't see the eyes that scorn him.
"Nerves," he muttered.
Climbing onto the porch, he cautiously placed his steps. With each step the rotten floorboard groan as if an iron weight dropped onto them. The part of the porch that collapse partly covered an unpainted door but not enough to keep it inaccessible. Grabbing the knob, he gave it an experimental twist. Too his surprise the door clicked open.
"It is rude not to knock." Crona span around, raising his arms up in defense only to find no one there. Walking toward the porch's edge, he searched the immediate area. Unless the person sprinted to the side of the house they couldn't have hide. Base on the coolness of the voice she doesn't sound like the type to run away.
He stood there a few seconds longer before returning to the door. This time he banged his fist against it several times. On the fourth knock the door creaked open. Nobody asked him to enter but he said, "Pardon me," before grabbing the knob and push it in.
Walking in, he had to duck to avoid bunking his head against a beam. As he closed the door behind him he wished the lighting was better. Candle sticks resting in holders attached to the walls provided light for the short, narrow hallway. It took him a dozen steps to enter a large room. Beside the single, wooden staircase, which had no railing, pressed against the eastern wall the room was empty. No pictures hung on the walls or any furniture and luxury items lay about. Three empty door frames invited people snoop around. No hint of personality told a lot or little about the current owner.
Dust kicked up by his feet tickled his nose. Waving the dust particle away, Crona moved toward the staircase. If there was any chance of finding life it would be on the second floor. As he climbed the steps his heart beat quicken. Someone down below was watching him. Glancing over his shoulders, he spotted the cause of his anxiety.
A blonde woman in her mid-thirties stared at him with yello eyes; the indifferent expression reminded him of snakes. Wearing a lab coat over a black shirt and tan pants, she seemed ready to go to work. "What are you doing in my house," she demanded.
Putting on an apologetic smile, Crona said, "I'm lost and the skies outside look ready to rain. Seeing your home, I came in, hoping to find someone. I knocked on the door but it open by itself. Forgive me for my rudeness. I truly thought that this place was abandoned."
Narrowing her eyes, the woman said, "As you can see it is not." For several seconds an awkward silence fell between them. The neutral expression never left the woman's face. However, her eyes seemed to gauge the threat level that Crona might be. Finally, a gentle smile that never reached the eyes crept onto her face. "I'm feeling charitable today," she proclaimed. "So feel welcome to stay a little while. You may explore the mansion. Just be careful not to disturb the other residence. Several of them are a little aloof and would appreciate being left alone."
With that said she turned her back on him and walked off into another room. It didn't escape Crona's notice that the floorboards were silence under her feet. Once she was gone he released a breath he didn't know he held. "Isn't she a gracious host," he muttered as he climbed the stairs. Like the room below the hallway showed no signs of human temperament. Plain doors spaced several feet from each other lined the walls but no decoration once so ever. Walking down the hallway, he strained his ears to hear a noise of any sort.
If a person lives in a house one expected some sort of sound. Even when the residence became quiet the home itself provided the noise. It may be a simply creak from the walls, ticking of a clock, air flow in a vent, or a background static that appear only when all was quiet. But no, the house played dead.
Forcing himself not to quicken his pace, he kept on walking till he reached last door to the right. This should be the room which he saw the light from outside. Hopefully, that meant a person was inside it. After the meeting with the snake woman he prayed that this person had a kinder demeanor.
As soon as he got to the door he grabbed the knob. Twisting it, he found it to be lock. Frowning, he let go of the knob to press an ear against the door. It was hard to hear, but a young girl was talking to someone on the other side. Knocking on the door, he shouted, "Excuse me, but would you mind letting me in?"
Either she didn't hear him or ignored him for he stood there for a minute without a response. Pushing off the door, he looked at the knob. "Is that a keyhole?" Bending down to get a better look, sure enough a keyhole was underneath the knob. Nobody would put that there unless they wanted to keep people out or seal someone within.
Straightening back up, he turned around to leave to stop in place. He blinked several times to make sure his eyes weren't playing tricks. In the short time he tried to get into the room someone filled the hallway with paintings without drawing his attention. He walked forward, feeling quiet unease.
Glancing at the pictures as he went, he wondered what sick sense of art the owner of the mansion had. It almost as if the Artistic Kishin sold a special series of her paintings. In the pictures, people of all sort met a grizzle end by a black blade. The location and number of people change from image to image but the fear etched onto their faces remained constant. They never stood a chance, Crona thought. After the fifth picture he had his fill of gore and kept his eyes on the hallway before him.
Staring straight ahead as he walked, he pondered on his next plan of actions. He still wanted to get into the locked off room so finding the key would be a good start. However, without help he would be extremely luck to stumble upon the wanted item. He could seek the assistance of the snake woman, but had little desire to do so.
Train of thoughts and steps came to a halt when he stepped into a wet substance. Perplex, he looked down at his shoe. Stumbling back to a comfortable distance, he stared at the crimson pool with disgust. "Blood," he whispered. As he stare at the pool it slowly but surely grew in size. A quick scanned of the area reveal the source of disturbance.
Flowing over the frame, a steady stream of blood poured out from the painting. If the paintings were vivid in detail early they now looked life like. In this one a young brunette, in her mid-teens, scrambled away, on her hands and knees, from the incoming blade. Near impossible to do in a long, purple dress.
An overwhelming sense of fear told him to walk away, but an equally powerful curiosity propelled him to take a closer look. As he neared the painting he thought he heard fingernails scrapping away at cloth. Since the girl was the subject of the image he focused on her. For a split second the girl's eyes seemed to move, but that could have easily been an illusion.
A sudden impulse to touch the canvas overcame him. It was irrational but he felt the need to do so. Cautiously, his fingers reached out just to brush it. Brushing the paintings with his fingertips shouldn't do it any harm.
With fingers centimeters away from the canvas he stopped. Glancing up at the painting, his cheeks paled a little. Without a doubt the girl turned her gaze from her tormentor and onto him. Crona move to pull his arm away, but an oily hand shot out from canvas and gripped him by the wrist.
Eyes grew wide from shock as Crona yanked his hand away. The oily hand ripped off from the arm, clinging to him with a death grip. An impossible amount of blood poured out of the hand and arm. Crona's free hand gripped the ripped hand by the wrist and tried to pull it off. For the first few pulls it refused to budge but one strong yank tore the palm off, leaving behind the fingers that loosely cling on. He threw the mangle hand away and frantically wiped the broken fingers off.
Looking to the painting, he recoiled back in horror. The brunette stepped out of it! But unlike painting one of her hands were obviously missing. Dry, mummified skin clung tightly to the bones. Two empty sockets replace her eyes while cracked teeth and gaps filled her mouth.
Taking a several step back, Crona turned halfway around before running into something. Forced to take a step back he looked to the object. A chef in a tattered uniform stood over him with a clever in a bony hand. Stopping for a second, Crona scanned the area over. From every painting withered corpses climbed down from their display. Based on their movement they planned on converging on him.
Without a second thought Crona sprinted for the stairway. If he had any chance of survival he would need more room then the hallway provided and some form of weaponry. As he went he evaded the corpses' attempts to siege him. Wasn't hard to do for they move about in a larch. Some of them leapt at him, but he easily evaded them, leaving the corpse to struggle to its feet. The few that stood in his way were shoved to the side.
Almost there, thought Crona. A yard away from the staircase a corpse built like a body lifter stepped into his way. Turning his shoulder at it, Crona planned on running it over. Instead, he bounced off the corpse's stomach, stumbling into a door. Back to the door and an increasing horde of corpses in front of him, there was nowhere to go.
Sweating bullets, Crona's thought, This can't be happening! This must be a dream! Yet he knew this was no nightmare. Whatever the corpses wanted he doubted he would like it. Glancing to the door behind him, he searched for the knob. The jet black metal stuck out like a sore thumb. Grabbing it with both hands, he quickly twisted it and pushed in. To his immeasurable delight it opened.
Not caring what may be on the other side Crona rushed in just as the first of many hands reached to grasp him. Inside the room he got on the other side of the door and slammed it shut. Several corpses tried to push their way in but their appendages got catch in the door. With one last hard push Crona broke the limps loose and shut the door. As the victims banged against the wood he locked it.
Gradually, Crona took his weight off the door. When it showed no signs of giving in he turned his attention onto the room. Compared to the rest of the house the room was well kept. A few holes in the walls were boarded up and the floors smell musty but the room was dusted. A queen size mattress with a bundle of blankets piled on it lay in the middle of the room. Pressed up against the right wall a simple desk, accompany by a stool, held stuff that one would normally call junk. Hanging above the desk from pegs, a long, black sword pointed at the door gleamed in the candlelight. In the opposite wall was a door that might lead to freedom.
Walking over to the door, Crona gave the mattress a second glance. Expect for the blankets nothing rested on it. He opened the door without a second thought. "You got to be kidding me," he said as he stared into the closet. A few black suits hung from wire hangers but no exit leading to a safer place.
As Crona pondered on his next move he heard the rustling of bed sheets. Tensing up, he cursed himself as an idiot. With the room occupant waking up and corpses outside the room he efficiently trapped himself. Of course, he could always make a dash for the sword but a quick glance over his shoulder told him otherwise. Sitting up on the bed was a bear of a man.
Clad in a wrinkled black suit one could see the muscle bugling under the cloth. Long, black shaggy hair covered the right side of the man's face, blinding him to everything on that side. This may be the only reason Crona had gone undetected. "Damn zombies," grumbled the man in a deep gravelly voice.
As he stood up Crona quickly and quietly ducked into the closet. The sound of the door closing drew the man attention, but made dunce from drowsiness he shrugged it off. From inside the closet Crona kept completely still. His breathing settled into quiet whispers while his heart beat at his chest. Ear pressed up against the door he listened to the man talking to himself. "So the agenda of the day; Take care of zombies' asses, go harass the girl, get something to eat, and wonder around the house in search of something to do. That sounds about right."
Wood sliding across wood told that he was at the table. "Geez, they are aggravated today. Wonder what got them so piss." Footsteps echoed throughout the room. "Strange... I don't remember locking the door. Oh well." A few seconds of silence followed. Then the man let out a mighty shout, "Here I come, pussies!" Cries of agony and malicious laughter ensured.
Taking this as his cue to leave, Crona quietly sneaked out of the closet. Thankfully, the man left the door open. Peering around the door, he spotted the man gleefully hacking away at the courses, slowly heading away from the staircase. Without drawing attention, Crona crept over and down the stairs.
On the bottom step he sat down to rest. Taking in a deep breath, he ignored the racket up the stairs. "Great," he said, "what do I do now?" One thing for sure he wasn't going back upstairs any time soon.
"Over here," shouted a feminine voice. Looking to his right, Crona catch the glimpse of a black shirt disappearing around the corner. "Come this way," said the voice as footsteps grew fainter. For a moment he stared at the empty space. The scene before him brought on a strong sense of déjà vu. He wasn't sure where he seen this but vaguely remembered that it didn't play out well. After a few more seconds he shrugged.
Getting to his feet, he put his hands into his pockets. "Following ghosts," he said, chuckling. "Compare to everything else this should be uneventful." At a languid pace he walked into the next room. Didn't get to see much of it- there wasn't anything to look at any way- when the voice said, "Come down here." In this manner Crona obediently followed the specter deeper into the mansion. As he went he scanned the rooms he passed through for any signs of danger. The dust he threw up with every step cause him to sneeze profoundly but on the line of things that can threaten his life. Can't be harm by empty rooms.
And the emptiness started to bug him. It was one thing to have a couple of spare rooms set aside until needed. Humans with personalities, however, tend to fill their homes with objects meaningful to them. Even the poor can managed to give a little life to their dwelling with things they collected over the years. Yet, the clothing of the current occupancies doesn't strike him as poor. So why would so many of the rooms go unfurnished?
"We're here," said the specter.
Ahead of him and around a bend a door creaked open. Going around the bend, Crona came to face a door. Left slightly ajar, light from an electrical source poured from the crack. At the door he put a hand on it and gently pushed it open. The creaking alerted whomever inside of his intrusion. Two steps later he stood inside a small library.
At less, he assumed it was a library. Bookcases that touched the low ceiling lined the walls. Many of their shelves laid bare for the books were scattered among them. Some of the books stood up while other lay on their sides. In the middle of the room sat a chair; it's red, plush cloth worn from excess use. Opposite of it an ebony door- locked by a bolt- break the bookcases line. A bright light bulb hung from a cord, providing more light then one would think.
Unlike the other rooms the library had been cared for. A water stain in the ceiling and a fist size hole in the floor near the chair testify to the mansion true conditions. Yet, everything in the room had been dusted. The books on the shelves seemed to be organized and holes in the chair had been sewn over with mismatch pieces of cloth.
Walking over to the chair, Crona expect someone to be sitting in it. He was only mildly surprise to find it void. "Only one way in," he said out loud. Going over to the bookcases, he randomly picked the books up. To his disappointment no secret passage way revealed itself. Putting the last book back in it place, he thought, That leaves me the other door.
How the specter walked in and locked the door on the other side he couldn't fathom. Then again, if paintings can come to life than locking doors should be a simple matter. At the door he examined it over for anything out of the norm. Whoever painted it had a strange taste for colors but nothing scream dangerous. Gripping the bolt, an icy wave of bitterness washed over him.
Grimacing, Crona jerked his hand away, wildly shaking it to rid of the feeling. Several second later it subsided. I'll take that as a warning, he thought with a cynical smile. Unfortunate for me, I don't have much of a choice. Gripping the bolt, he quickly slid it out of place. The same bitterness came again but this time he was able to brace himself. With the lock dealt with he moved to open the door.
Fingers centimeters from touching the knob, a voice said, "If you value your soul don't open that door." Freezing in place, Crona slowly turned his head around. Sitting in the chair, Maka gazed down at a novel, cradling it in a hand. Moon shaped glasses perched on her nose. A solemn expression covered her face.
Bringing his hand to his side as he turned toward the girl, Crona asked, "Don't you mean value my life?"
"Nope," she said. For a few seconds there silence was between them. With a nod of her head Maka marked the page she read by creasing a corner. Snapping it shut, she said, "Didn't want to lose my place." She put the book on the arm rest as she stood up. Turning her attention on the boy, she gave him a small smile. "Did you bump your head when you entered my soul?"
"Excuse me," said Crona, a little baffled.
"Memory lost," Maka stated as she shook her head, "Side effect of the black blood." With a chuckle she added, "So much of my memory is a haze. If it wasn't for Ragnarok half my life would be a blur." Spotting the tension in the Crona's shoulders, she rolled her eyes. "Relax. I have no intent once so ever to harm you."It took several seconds but some of the tension left the shoulders.
"Who are you," he asked, bluntly.
"Technically, I'm Maka," said the girl as she looked to an empty bookcase. Walking over to it, she searched the shelves as if something was on it. "To be more exact I am the part of her responsible for logical reasoning." She laughed. "Out of all of us who lives here the true me keep my company the less."
"Here being as in Maka's soul," said Crona, eyes following the girl.
"Yep." Maka stretched her legs to reach the top shelf. As she patted the shelf, she said, "Coagulation on invading the mansion. I'm a little surprise that Mother is allowing you to roam freely. Probably thought the mansion would take care of you. Almost did if I haven't intervened." Wrapping her hands around a small, hardback, she pulled the book down.
"I'm guessing that whatever behind that door isn't friendly," said Crona, glancing to their new topic.
"Yes and no," said the girl as she examined the book dusty cover. Taking in a breath of air, she blew onto it, blowing dust into the air. "The person who occupied the basement come and goes whenever she pleases. At the moment she isn't down there but she knows when someone entered her domain. If you opened that door... You'll live but you probably wish you hadn't."
"Mind if I take a seat?" said Maka.
"Not at all," said Crona as he turned his attention back on the girl.
Sitting down, the girl opened the hard back to a page. "If you wondering if I'm the one who lead you here," she said as she pulled the book to her face. "The answer is no. The culprit is currently amount us but the brat won't show herself."
"I am not a brat!" shouted the specter. Spinning around, Crona thought he heard the specter right behind him.
"She isn't there?" asked Maka. Crona nodded. "One can never tell where she truly is. The nuisance of an entity is just like me- another part of our host. She represented the childish side of Maka. In all honesty, she isn't a mean spirit but due to the madness she loves insufferable, cruel jokes. And you almost become the butt end of one of them."
Looking over the book, she said, "But enough about me, let talk about you. For starter, why did you follow me here?" When Crona didn't answer she said, "Please do away with the shyness. I want to help you. Why? Let me put it this way."
She leapt onto her feet and in several large steps cover the distance between them. Face to face with Crona, she said, "A sound soul resides in a sound body and a sound mind. It may not be word for word but the meaning is clear. My host is lacking on all three accounts and I am wary of this. Liberation or annihilation, it matter little to me. Just make sure that the solution is final."
A small smile crept onto Crona's face. "On the second floor there's a bunch of doors. The last one on the right is locked. Have any idea where the key is?"
Taking a step back, Maka sighed. "I should have known you want to get into her room. Not like you got much of a choice. She particularly volunteered to be locked up." As she put the hardback away, she said, "There are two keys. Doesn't matter which one you use, but getting to either will take a different approach."
"The first key is with mother. She keeps it on her personal self at all times and only take it out when needed. The second key belongs to Ragnarok." Seeing the confuse expression on her face, she explained. "Have you happened to see a big guy walking about?"
Raising a leveled hand over his head, Crona said, "Seven feet tall, stocky build, and like to carve painting zombies to pieces."
"That's him. You two already meet?"
Shaking his head, Crona said, "A chance encounter."
"Well, as I was saying Ragnarok have the second key. Don't know where he keeps it but knowing him he probably hid it under his mattress- the oaf spent half his life sleeping on it. Between stealing from Mother or Ragnarok it depend on the situation. However, I think we should try the later then the sooner first."
"We?" asked Crona with a raise eyebrow.
"Do you know where Mom usually hangs out?" She was answered with silence. "Thought not. Out of the two of us you would rather have me as your guide."
"Hey," yelled the specter, "I can lead him as well as you can!"
"Without getting him kill."
Chuckling, the specter said, "Good point."
"Let get on with this," said Crona, shaking his head in disbelief. "The sooner I get into that room the sooner I can get out of this crazy house."
"Mansion," stated Maka as she followed behind Crona, "and you're inside my soul."
Not bothering to reply Crona led them through the house for the first dozen feet. He soon became lost and without a word ceded the lead to the girl. With the pace of a person who knows the place well she walked through the halls with little hesitation. As they went Crona glanced about to make sure that no pop-into-existence furniture appeared. The halls were as barren as the first time he came through.
Within several minutes they reached the second floor. One look at the hallway caused Crona become queasy. If he hadn't known better he would have thought a massacre have taken place. Blood painted the walls and floors while random body parts were scattered far from their bodies. He quickly turned his attention onto Raganrok's door.
The door was crack open. Carefully, they push it away to peer in. Sitting at the desk, Ragnarok stack a pile of limb into a log cabin. They couldn't see his face but the low, irradiated muttering told that now wasn't a good time to sneak in. Crona closed the door while the two crouch behind it.
"Think you can lure him out?" asked Crona.
"Maybe," said Maka, shrugging. "Back in the real world I could never get him come out when I wanted him to." She grew quiet for a few second before adding, "If I were to take his sword I can probably get him to chase me. He'll never be able to catch me and by the time he grew tire of the chase. You should be able to search the room over."
"Not the greatest plan in the world," stated Crona, "but probably the best we got."
"It simple enough," said Maka. "Go into the room, grab the sword, and lead an angry oaf to another part of the house. It doesn't take a genius to fool Ragnarok." Snickering, she added, "I once trick him into believing that mouse droppings were raisins."
"Really," said Crona, a doubtful smile creeping onto his face.
"In his defense the droppings I showed him did look like raisins. It didn't take long for him to try one."
Crona muffled a chuckle by clamping a hand over his mouth. Once it settled down he said, "Nice to know we're dealing with a meat head. So where should I hide."
Pointing with a finger, she said, "On the right side of the door will do. He'll be too preoccupied with me to notice you. Just give me a minute and you'll be inside the room soon enough."
"So what should I do?" asked a gravelly voice.
"Ragnarok, you'll sit at the desk and play with the limbs while I..." The two schemers tensed up as they looked up. Towering over them in the door frame, Ragnarok's black eyes stared down at them, a twitching eyebrow accompany an unsettling smile. Two, dark scars, crossing the other at the bridge of his nose, formed an X on his face. In one hand he held the sword the, flat end of the blade resting on his shoulder. A nervous smile appeared on Maka's face. "Hey there big guy. You wouldn't mind letting us borrow your key to Maka's room?"
Ragnarok nodded his head. "Start running," he ordered as he lifted the blade. Bolting onto their feet, the two schemers were halfway down the stairs before he gave chase. For the next half of dozen minutes they stormed through the mansion, making enough noise to raise the dead. Brandishing the sword in the air, Ragnarok howled, "Get back here cowards. Let me show you what this oaf can do."
Coming to an intersection, the two schemers split off in different directions. Ragnarok paused at the intersection for a moment to decide on which prey to pursue. Maka may have been the one who insult him but he could actually take his wrath out on the intruder. So he went after the Crona.
Down the hallway Crona heard heavy footsteps behind him. He made it around a bend into a dead end. No other hallway converged with the one he entered and a single door at the end of it provided the only hiding place. With little time to find a better hiding spot he sprinted for the door. Running into it, he gripped the knob, turned it, and shoved the door open. He nearly slammed it shut as searched for the lock. Founding the bolt, he slid it into place and stepped away from the door. If Ragnarok tried to hack his way in he doesn't want to offer him a lucky hit.
Staring at the wood, Crona waited. Rapid, heavy thuds settled into an slow pace. For several seconds the footsteps grew louder. They suddenly came to a stop. Seconds stretch into minutes until the footsteps started again. This time they grew fainter and as fast as Ragnarok came he was gone. A minute later Crona dared to sigh.
If the footsteps were anything to go on Ragnarok left him along. Then again the man might be trying to trick him into thinking that and waited quietly outside the door for him to walk out. Based on what Maka said intelligence wasn't Ragnarok greatest feat. Reasoning, however, belong to all animals. If Ragnarok knew the path Crona taken he could easily figure out that he had nowhere to go.
Not feeling the need to test his luck, Crona looked to the room for another escape route. "My lucky day," he muttered to himself. The first and only time he been inside Professor Stein's house it strike him more as a research faulty then a house. Stein would feel right at home in this room.
Long fluorescent tube light bulbs illumined the room. The harsh smell of chemical floated in the air. Tables filled with science projects- a few looked to be complete while many left undone- littered the chemical stained, cement floor. Wires and cords screwed into place crossed the walls in a spider web like fashion. A handle less, door engraved with two cobras wrapping around one another stood in the left wall.
Cautiously, Crona advance into the room. Glancing at several of the tables, he felt comply to take a closer look. Many oddly shape steel object that seemed to be design for torture were scattered about. A ball of electricity without a visible mean of power source or container suspended over a table by an invisible force. On one table, cage rats long neglected behaved in odd manners. One of the rats tried to scale the horizontal bars while another stared dumbly into space.
Without knowing the point of the experiments Crona couldn't evaluate the meaning of it all. However, he doubted the betterment of mankind was a factor. "I wonder if this lab belongs to..." He doesn't know the name of Maka's mom. "...to the Doctor." Stopping at one of the tables, he picked up a syringe. In the glass tube a black fluid that had long separated into layers floated idly.
Putting it back down, he looked to the snake door. For the first time in his life he wished he had soul perception. Whatever mystery held behind the door could easily be revealed. It could be where the Doctor kept snakes as pets or it could be her sleeping quarters. Speaking of the Doctor, he somewhat hoped that she happen to be here. Would make the need of tracking her unnecessary.
He walked over to the door. A quick examination showed no visible mean of opening it. Pushing it with a hand did nothing. As his eyes wondered over the wood they came over the snakes' heads. Nothing about them was special, just a triangle with a single eye and an open mouth showing off a fang.
All of the sudden the snakes' eyes glow a piercing violet. Startled, Crona stumbled back while putting a hand up in defense. The snakes stayed in place but the door slowly slid open. Ducking under a nearby table, Crona watched the Doctor walk out of the door. Reading a paper on a clipboard, she went over to one of the tables. She selected a contraption from it, examining it with a keen eye. With the Doctor busy Crona sneak out from under the table in a crouch and entered the next room.
What he found looked to be an office. A desk covered in paperwork was pressed against the far wall. A metal folding chair in front of the desk was pulled away from it. Two white bookshelves with thin, sliding glass doors pressed up against the right wall. A long, wide aquarium- it's residence a python- sitting on top of a dresser was opposite of the bookshelves.
Going over to the desk, Crona rummaged through it. Yes, he remembered what Maka said but maybe the keys, for whatever reason, were placed on the desk. Sadly, this wasn't the case. At the bookshelves he had even less luck. Sealed off by an impressive pad lock one would think the books held high values. Several more minutes of searching of the room proved fruitless.
Admitting defeat, Crona moved for the doorway. However, as he made for the door the Doctor started this way. Still busy with the clipboard she hadn't spotted him yet. Retreating back into the room, Crona hid behind the dresser. Not too long after he crouched down the Doctor came in.
Muttering under her breath, she sat in the chair. As she scoot it up to the desk she place the clipboard on it. Bowing her head, she lean over and rubbed her fingers against her temples. "It doesn't make sense," she said to herself. "Everything is performing properly. The black blood should be responding. There must be a problem with..."
While she talked to herself Crona examined the woman's clothing. In all there were four pockets- two pant and two coats- where she could conceal the key. He didn't see a string around her neck so she wasn't hiding it between her breasts. Unless the woman had a strong case of paranoid she wouldn't feel the need to place the key in any odd places.
The talking creased. Getting to her feet, the Doctor walked over to one of the bookcases. From the right lab coat pocket she pulled out a set of keys attached to a small key chain. After flipping through a dozen keys she inserted the right one into the lock. Opening the lock, she removed it from place, put the keys away, opened the glass door, and searched through the books.
As quietly as possible Crona creep up to the Doctor. In reaching distance, he stretched his arm out and oh so careful place his hand into the coat's pocket. A couple of fingers loop around the ring and quickly pulled them out. For a moment he felt sure that the Doctor would notice. However, not feeling any pressure she kept on viewing the book's covers.
Silently walking out of the room, Crona waited until he was out of sight before standing up. A triumph smile crept appeared as he raised the stolen prize to his face. Examining the keys, he wished he paid attention to which one the Doctor used. It would have narrowed down the trail and error process a little.
He put the keys away in a pant pocket. Walking toward the exit, he heard the door behind him close shut. He gave it a quick glance which turned into a puzzle stare. Either his imagination gone into overdrive or one of the snakes, the wood, was blackening. The snake provided him the answer when its head smoothly ripped off away the door. Eyes colored like that of amber stared him down. A pink forked tongue darted out of its mouth, sampling the air. As it peeled off the wall it grew in length. By the time its tail hit the floor several tables laid on their sides and its bent head glaze the ceiling.
Gawking, Crona take a step back from the colossal serpent. It sat there, flicking its tongue in and out. Crona glanced to the exit. Quiet curses escape his lips for the door was lock. Keeping his gaze on the serpent, Crona calmly- as calmly as one can be with a giant snake in the room- walked backward. When his back met the door he fumbled for the bolt and moved it to the side.
Gripping the knob, Crona slowly turned it, waiting for the serpent to respond. It kept its place, staring harshly at him. He pulled the door slightly open. Tension quickly overcame the serpent's body as its slit pupils expanded slightly. "Not good," Crona shouted as he flung the door wide open. On his heel he spun around and dash down the hallway. A sharp hiss filled the air as the serpent pounce. The doorway was far too small for it to fit through so it impervious by creating a new entrance.
Skidding to a stop to make the turn, Crona just started running when the serpent collided into the wall. The collision did little to slow its rapid advance. With the help of adrenaline Crona kept out of the serpent's mouth, if only by a few feet. Frantically, he tried to redraw the path he took early in his mind.
Whoever hanged the paintings up on the second floor thought it proper to fill the hallways. Furniture of all sort decorated with bowls, candles, and dishes barricaded the halls. Crona tried to maneuver around the obstacle with ease. He slid under tables, jumped over dressers, and toppled chairs as he went. The serpent plowed on through, crashing everything under it great mass.
While jumping over one of the tables, Crona's foot snagged the edge. He, the table, and the table's contents toppled to the floor. He got to his knees but it was already too late. Only centimeters away from engulfing him the serpent moved in for the kill. Out of the corner of his eye Crona spotted a light. Without hesitation he reached out and gripped a candle metal holder holding several lighted candles. He wildly threw it at the beast, entrusting luck with his life.
The hot wax and flame struck the serpent straight in the eye. Rearing back, its massive head crashed through the ceiling as a hideous hiss echoed throughout the mansion. On his feet Crona sprinted away. Several seconds were bought but they didn't last. Crashing down, the serpent bared it fangs- its burnt eye plastered with wax. Anger renewed it vigor, launching it forward, trashing the walls as it went.
Crona breathe heavily when he finally came upon the stair. Sprinting up them, he nearly trip when the serpent slammed onto the steps. Unlike the hallways the narrow staircase provided little room for the serpent to climb. Didn't mean it would give up. Lunging itself up the stairs, it flatten several steps with each lunge.
Quick to get back on his feet Crona made it up the stairs. With his eyes over his shoulder, he didn't notice Ragnarok until he ran into him. He stumbled back a little confuse which quickly gave way to dread. Sword in hand the man looked down at him with a reptile smile. "Hey buddy," said Ragnarok, "what took you so long?"
Before anything could happen the serpent burst through the stairwell, crashing into the nearby wall. The floor shook violently nearly taking Crona's feet from under him. Ragnarok stood like a rock his eyes now glued on the giant serpent. "Not again," he shouted furiously as he shoved Crona to the side. Glad that the man had a new distraction he allowed himself to be push around.
"Stupid snake," shouted Ragnarok, "do you know how long it took last time to repair all the damage?" Bringing it head around to face Crona, the serpent paid the man little attention. "Listen to me, salamander! If you don't turn back right now I'll make a set of leather boots out of your scaly hide." The serpent tried to push through Ragnarok but he would have none of that. The sword lashed out, cutting a shallow wound across the serpent's snout. It backed off while hissing angrily. "That's right. I'm not afraid of you."
While Ragnarok dealt with the serpent Crona sprinted toward the last door. He brought out the keys from his pocket and looked through them in hope of narrowing the search process down. Unfortunately, the keys looked too similar to distinguish. At the door he quickly jammed the first key in. "No," he muttered before moving on to the next key.
Back with Ragnarok he kept the serpent at bay, though it wasn't because he scared the colossal. Lifting it head up, the serpent spotted Crona where it was trying to prevent him from going. It opened its mouth; Medusa's voice flew out. "Ragnarok, you fool!"
"Medusa," said Ragnarok, cocking an eyebrow. "What with the giant snake get up?"
"Never mind that," the snake roared, causing the man to flinch. "Get out of my way before the meister get into that room."
"What?" shouted Ragnarok as he turned his head. Growing impatient of his stupidity, the serpent swung its head at him. Knock from his feet Ragnarok flew through the wall. His head slammed into the next wall, knocking him out almost instantly while leaving a good size dent in the wood.
The serpent charge forward, cranking it mouth as wide as the hallway would allow. A loud hissed alerted Crona of its coming. He glance to the side, saw the serpent advancing rapidly, and hurried up with his work. Already seven of the twelve keys were deem useless. The eight proved just the same and with the serpent barreling down on him. Crona forced his hand to keep steady to insert the ninth.
Though Crona was certain he wouldn't be able to check all the remaining keys, he was beyond the point of feeling fear. As the serpent drew closer he methodically entered the next key. Again, no good and if the next one didn't work... No need to ponder on the thought.
Maybe a dozen feet away from Crona the serpent let out another hiss. Ignoring it, he inserted the key, turned it, and then attempted the knob. He felt the latch gave way. Throwing his weight onto the door, it swung open and not a second too soon. The serpent soared on by, eating a mouth fill of wood, insulator, and whatever else one could find within a wall. Crona slammed the door shut and move to lock it. There was no lock. Not like it would have done much good against a massive serpent in the first place.
For the time being the snake was probably the less of his worries. Short of tearing the mansion apart it would be difficult for it to get into the room. Right now, he was more concern with the fact that the door knob stood over his head.
"What the..." he said only to clamp his hands over his mouth. Taking his hands from his lips, he said, "Testing. One, two, there." Yep, his voice wasn't his own. Higher in pitch and tone it sounded as if he inhaled helium. Catching a glimpse of his hands, he stared at them in disbelief. Pardon the canniness but they were three sizes too small.
Crona checked the rest of his body out. He doesn't know how but he regressed into a five year old. To his surprise he wore a green baggy shirt accompanied by tan shorts and sandals. Of course he wore other clothing but this was his usually outfit at that age. Scratch that, it was the outfit he wore at his current age. Wanting to focus on something else he turned his attention on the room.
It looked as if he walked into a normal five year old room. Light yellow wallpaper decorated with cartoonish white bunny rabbits and baby ducklings covered the walls. Pictures in square, gold metal frames hang from the wall. Toys laid scatter on the carpet floor. Pressed up against the right wall a large rectangular box painted white with pink flowers edging served as a toy box. A neatly made bed sitting on a wooden frame was pressed up against the wall opposite of the toy box. Directly in front of the boy a square window allowed sunlight to filter in.
And standing on the toes of black shoes a little girl right about Crona's age gazed out the window. She was dressed in a single piece black dress the pointed skirt had white diamond sewn into them. Ash blonde hair barely brushed her shoulders. Noticing a different in her room, she turned around to gaze at the boy with emerald green eyes. No signs of malnutrition were apparent and she gave him a prefect pearly white teeth smile. Though it seemed unlikely, Crona knew that the little girl before him was the demon swordswoman, Maka.
Laying her feet flat on the ground, Maka turned about and hopped over to Crona. Just inches away she examined him with a thoughtful expression. "Hello," chirped the girl, "I had never seen you here before." She leaned in a little closer, invading the little personal space she hasn't already taken. "Mind telling me your name?" The closeness between them made the boy uncomfortable but it wasn't the reason he looked down at his shoes. For the first time in a long time he felt shy around a person. Muttering, he said something incoherent. The girl tilled her head to the side to hear him better. "Please repeat that."
"Crona," he said a little louder, "my name is Crona."
Grinning, the girl took him by the hand and shook it rapidly. "Nice to meet you Crona. My name is Tiffany Marcus Da Vince."
He knew that was a lie but Crona humored the girl. "Really?"
"No," she said, stressing the O, "but it sound so much cooler then Maka."
"Can't argue with that," said Crona, smiling.
As quickly as she came she bounced over to the toy box. On her knees she started to grab random objects from within it. She gave each toy or board game- in its box- a quick examination before shaking her head and tossing it over her shoulder. Not caring to take aim a few of the toys nearly hit Crona. Pausing from her search, she glanced over her shoulder and asked, "Do you like playing games?" She sounded uncertain as if the question just occurred to her.
Walking up to Maka, Crona said, "It depends on the game." Right beside her he got onto his knees and looked into the toy box. Half of its contents had been thrown away. Spotting something of interest, Crona reached in and grabbed a box by the corner. Pulling it out, he gave it a quick look over- a picture of a game of chess was printed on it. "How about this?" he asked, showing the box to the girl.
Maka's light up like a firework as she exclaimed, "You play chess?"
Shrugging, he said, "Not on a regular basis but enough that I know the basic." Before another word could be uttered the box vanished from his hand. Crona stared at the void with a perplex look. The sound of objects made from different material scrapping together drew his attention. Already clearing a space large for the two of them plus the chessboard, Maka placed the chess pieces onto the board. At first Crona wondered how she moved so fast but he left it as another oddity of the mansion.
Approaching the clear area, he looked the chessboard over. Time fainted some of the squares while several of the game pieces were chipped. However, all the pieces were on the board and recognizable.
Setting the last piece in place, Maka asked, "Black or white?"
"Black." Sitting down on the side of the board with the black pieces, Crona nervously glance over his shoulder. Any moment now he expected either Ragnarok or the Doctor to barge in, threatening his life. Yet the door remained undisturbed.
"Your turn," said the girl with a serious tone. Turning his attention back on the board, he saw that the girl moved a pawn two square forward. Crona moved his knight in front of a pawn and a few move later he find himself in a pickle. Without losing a piece the girl maneuver a bishop, queen, and knight into position so he couldn't help but sacrifice his pieces. Several more moves later he tipped his king over.
Throwing her hands, into the air, Maka cheerfully shouted, "I win!"
A pouting Crona crossed his arm across his chest. "Lucky."
"It called skills," said Maka, putting her arms down. "Play me again and the outcome will remain the same." He took the girl up on her offer. As predicted she beat him in the same number of moves. The frustrated frown on the Crona's face turned Maka's triumph smile into a worried expression. "We don't have to play this game. There plenty of others games that give both of us a fair chance."
Noticing the fear, Crona said, "This game is fine. I'm just wondering how you're so good at it."
"I taught myself," said a smiling Maka, thrusting a prideful thumb at her chest. "I had to. Chess is the only game Mother will play with me and she is great at chess." The thumb fell as she looked to the ground in sorrow. "It took me awhile to find a way to beat her. She doesn't like to lose."
"You're mother the only person you play with?" said Crona with a thoughtful expression. "Isn't there anyone else?"
Shaking her head, she said, "There's Ragnarok, but he's a big meany."
"So there is no one else to play with?"
"Not until you came." Getting to her feet, Maka walked over to the window. Crona followed her. At the window the two stood on their tippy toes to see outside. Out in the front yard shadows shaped into children ran about in great joy. Based on their movement they were playing a game. "Mom never let me go outside," explained the girl. "And never let them inside. She said that it they would never understand me. That it is for the best."
She leaned on the frame, resting her weight on it. "She probably right," she said in a sad tone, "but I like to watch them. It's kind of strange that they're so happy. I sometime wonder what it would be like to join them."
"What keeping you from doing so?" Maka shot the boy a confused expression. Shrugging it off, he said, "Never know what it like till you try."
"I guess," she whispered. Biting her lips, she asked, "but what if they don't like me?"
"What if they do?"
"The door is usually locked."
"I unlocked it when I came in."
"Mom wouldn't like it if I were to leave without her permission."
"It couldn't hurt to go outside. That is your front yard. What the worst that can happen."
Plopping down on her feet, she spread her arms out into a rough oval. "A flying saucer abducts me and the aliens run crazy experiments on my body." Crona arched a skeptical eyebrow. Looking away from Crona, she crossed her arms while saying, "It could happen."
"Sound like you're scare," stated Crona.
"I'm not scared," she protested. The silence forced her to admit, "Maybe a little."
Offering her a hand, Crona put on a friendly smile. "Want me to escort you outside. Can't say I like to be around a lot people but I can handle myself quite well." For a moment she refused to acknowledge the hand. However, curiosity got her to look at it.
"Promise to watch my back?" asked Maka.
"Cross my heart and hope to die if I don't." After a few more second of doubt the girl hesitatingly put a hand out. Crona's hand met her halfway and they entangled fingers. Giving her an encouraging smile, he said, "Let go." With a gentle tug he led her to the door. Took some carefully placing of feet to cross the mine field Maka created but they had no problem with getting to the door.
Just as they reached the door it slammed open- the knob punched a hole clean through the wall. Standing in the door way, the Doctor stared at the children with narrowed eyes, obviously displease. Maka hide behind Crona while he glared at the woman. "Mom," squeaked the girl, "what are you doing here?"
"I'm here to remove the boy," the doctor said, coldly.
"Does he have to leave?" asked the girl her voice a little stronger. "He just got here and ..."
"I was about to take Maka outside," said Crona, doing his best to sound tough. Hard to do when one have the body of a five year old. "That shouldn't bother you too much."
"Do you think that taking her outside the mansion will make a different?" asked the Doctor. "Her soul belongs to me. Whatever it is in here or out there it makes little difference. Now be a good little boy and leave now before any harm is done."
Crona kept his place. "Don't make me come in there," said the Doctor, a menacing smile coming onto her face. Paired with a couple of golden snake eyes the threat hardly sounded like a bluff. However, Crona didn't even flinch. "Fine, be like that. It will be more interesting this way."
Sticking an arm out and palm forward, she said, "Vector arrow." An arrow shot from her wrist, heading straight for the Crona's chest. Crona threw himself to the side, bringing Maka with him so the arrow wouldn't pierce her. He tried to scramble to his feet, but a hard blow to the stomach sent him flying over the girl. Crashing into a pile of toys, the air rushed out of him as he tried to wrap his arms around his stomach. Toys jabbed into his back but he was absentminded to them.
Placing her feet back on the ground, the Doctor said, "Foolish boy. Should had left when given the chance. Now held still and accept your fate." She raised her hand to shot another of her arrows. Something wrapped around her leg caused her to pause. Glancing down, she saw Maka wrapping herself around a leg. Tears poured down her checks as she shouted, "Leave him along! He didn't do anything wrong!"
"He invaded our home" stated the mother, monotonously.
The doctor shook her leg to loosen the girl grip, but she held on. "So that gave you the right to kill him! He just a little kid!"
"I can't have you running about with someone I hardly know." This made no sense to Maka and the lack of emotion convinced her that the boy would die no matter what the reason.
"Why are you just a jerk," she screamed. "Why is it that I have to be imprisoned in my own house?"
"It's because I love you dear. I don't want you to get hurt."
Words that would usually bring comfort sparked an inferno. "Lair," she screamed as she jerked away from her mom. In her newly from grip the demon sword appeared. "You never love me." Before the Doctor could blink the sword dug into her midsection. Sliding it out, a chilling pleasure filled Maka as the blood spill onto the floor.
Maka looked her mother in the eyes; the heartless smile that formed weakened when she saw nothing but darkness starting right back at her. Dressed in her modern clothing the used to be Doctor was replace by an older Maka. Beside the eyes she looked just like the real person. "You shouldn't have done that," she said, gravely. She then faded into a black haze so thick that it appeared to be a void where it floated. It darted out of the room, slamming the door shut behind it.
With the entity gone Maka dropped the sword and run over to Crona. Helping him to his feet, she asked, "Think it is over?"
Before he could answer the floor quaked. At first slightly but quickly escalated into a violently shaking. Toys hopped across the carpet while one of the pictures fell from its hook. Somewhere within the mansion a loud screech that sounded like a Scream Alpha tore through the walls. Hugging each other tightly, the children tried their best to keep their footing.
As soon as it came the earthquake left. Once the ground settled the two loosen their grip on the other. "That was strange," stated Maka as she run over to the window. Looking outside, she found everything except for the clouds as it should be. Lighting laced the clouds but no thunder roared. "We never get earthquakes out here."
Crona nodded, but said nothing. From out of nowhere a brilliant light blinded his right eye. A hand shielded his eyes as he turned to see where the light came from. Slipping through the door cracks, a brilliant white light sliced through the electric lighting. "Maka," said Crona in a panicking voice. "Something is trying to get in."
A loud bang echoed behind the door and sent it flying into the wall. There was little time to react. Light flooded the room, engulfing everything in it glow. Crona tried to scream but the silent roar of the light obliterated his voice. As the world turn white he sense the present of an angry spirit. A spirit who been suppress for far too long.
Seven minutes had pass and Crona had yet to move. To say Soul feared for his meister was a grave understatement. Ragnarok stood beside him- early, Soul agreed to stand the sword up as long if he kept quiet – silently hoping that Maka would be alright. If the girl doesn't come out of the comatose state he was stuck as a sword for the rest of his short life. Not a fate even he would bestow onto the worst of his enemies.
When a blue aura encased the meister Soul jumped to his feet. The glow lasted for a dozen seconds before fainting away. Walking up to his meister, Soul got ready to assist. "Maka," shouted Ragnarok, "time to wake up! We got souls to harvest." Soul kept quiet, watching his meister's eyes. They would tell when Crona return.
After what felt like an eternity, life returned into the blue pools. No word could explain it properly but they were no longer glassy, empty. Focus summed it up the best. Once the eyes become focus they blinked.
Without delay in body movement Crona loosen himself from the girl and bolted onto feet. As he rose he grabbed Soul by the wrist. "Move," he simply said. In a short sprint they headed for the nearest pillar. "No time to explain," said Crona as they got behind the structure, "but let just say I got a feeling that we should keep our distance from Maka."
Soul rolled his eyes. "Seven minutes of soul bonding and already the two of you are on a first name basis." Ignoring the remark Crona peered around the pillar to watch the girl. With a shrug the weapon peered around his meister. At the moment the girl was on her knees, body and head sagging forward. "I'm guessing something is wrong?"
"Already forgotten what happened early?"
"If you're talking about the glowing hand, I haven't."
The two fell into silence when Maka staggered to her feet. In a jerking motion she walked over to Ragnarok without looking up. "Finally," said the sword as its meister neared it, "took ya long enough." Getting no response, the sword mentally cocked an eyebrow. "Earth to Maka, is anyone home?"
At the last foot the girl's knees buckled from under her. Her hands managed to grasp the sword's hilt and it does not like the feel of them. "Why are your hands clammy?" Instead of answering she vomited onto the sword's base. Even if Ragnarok felt to need to keep a tough appearance he couldn't help but be completely disgust. "Gross," it exclaimed.
"Get inside me," wheezed Maka. It sounded as if a great weight pressed down on her chest.
Disgust turned to genuine worry. Say what one like of Ragnarok but he truly does care for his meister. If she were to die he dies with her but it goes a little deeper than that. Living with- within- a person for most of one life will forge a strong bond. The bond between the two was unorthodox but it was certainly there. Though Ragnarok would rather die first then admit it.
"What is wrong with you?" asked Ragnarok.
A weak smile formed on her face. "It feels like I'm dying," she said in a shaky voice. Lifting her head up, two sane, cheerful eyes gaze at the weapon. "Strangely enough, I think someone cheated me. Now do us both a favor and get into my body." Without a word the sword dissolve into her bloodstream.
Forcing herself not to fell into the vomit, she climbed onto unsteady feet. She turned to her left and took several steps forward. Coming to a stop, she tried her best to keep her equilibrium. If standing was a labor then trying to get her eyes to focus was a task of Hercules. The world faded in and out, becoming pitch black to crystal clear in short intervals. Raising her hands to her face, she watched them disappear and reappear right before her eyes. That was the last coherent thing she did before the pain came.
Felt as if her entire body, from head to toe, had been submerged in boiling water. Every muscle, every cell burned. Shrill screams pierce the air. Stumbling about, Maka ripped away at her skin in hope of soothing the pain. She bounced from pillar to pillar blindly. In fact, almost all input to her brain was blocked out. No sight, no taste, no smell, no hearing, no feeling just the pain that would bring anyone to their knees, bawling.
Watching the sight with a mix of fascination and horror, Crona and Soul felt they should do something but knew better. They were powerless to help.
None of them could have known the whole truth. After so many years of being suppress the anti-demon wavelength lashed out at the madness with a passionate vengeance. Where ever the madness resided it would obliterated it at the site. However, the madness lived in Maka's blood. The substance that not only makes life possible, but also traveled throughout her body, leaving not a single cell uninfected by the madness.
The immense pain wasn't the wavelength fault along. Like any living entity the madness fought for its life. If one could see the her veins they would see the flood of black blood cells running into a wall of light. Some of the cells burst on impact while others turned a natural red. As soon as the intact blood cells pass through the light they would run into black plasma. They would absorb the plasma and once again turned black. In this case, the two opposing forces were suffocating the body. However, not a single cell was safe from the attacks.
Maka screamed herself hoarse. Black streaks of harden blood shined through claw marks. Bruises started to form on her back and sides. She exhaustion slowed her pace but she kept on stumbling about..
Then, without warning, she collapse. Landing on her side, one arm stretched out in front while the other lay beside her. Glassy eyes stared out in the distance; the images in them went unseen.
Coming out from behind the pillars, Crona and Soul stared at the body. "I think she's dead," said Soul.
"Only one way to find out," said Crona. Walking up to the body, he crouched down and placed his index finger and middle finger onto the pressure point in the neck. A weak, but steady pulse throbbed. "She alive," said Crona as he pulled his hand back, "barely."
Coming up to his meister's side, Soul said, "Should we finish her off?" The meister shot him a disapproving look. Shrugging, he said, "Okay. Not the type to kill defenseless girls. So what do we do with her?"
A soft whimper emitted from Maka. Crona waved his hand at Soul in a shooing motion. Nodding, the weapon went to a nearby pillar, out of sight, to lend on. As he put his hands in his pockets he turned his attention on his meister. After mouthing a thank you to the weapon, Crona put on a smile as he faced the girl.
Her eyes fluttered open. She tried to push herself up but quickly fell back onto the ground. "Careful," said Crona, "you don't want to hurt yourself." Turning her eyes onto Crona's face, she was greeted by a friendly smile. Her lips tried to form words; a pitiful squeak came out. "It alright," he said in a soothing voice, "I'm not going to hurt you."
It took some effort but the girl managed to croak out, "Then what are you going to do?"
He shrugged. "Help you I guess. Need anything in particular."
Hearing no ill will in his voice, she said, "Wouldn't happen to have some water and a bottle of pain killers?" Crona shook his head. "Please say yes or no. At the moment I can't see much of anything."
"Gone blind."
"Not completely but seeing the world as a gray blob isn't much better."
"Sorry, but I left my medicine back home."
"Does that mean you got some water?"
"Nope."
Wheezing out a sigh, she closed her eyes and laid her head on the floor. "If nothing else can you move me into a more comfortable position?"
Glancing over his shoulder, Crona shouted, "Mind giving me a hand?" Soul shot the girl a suspicious look. "Soul, she blind, can't move, and look like hell. Do you really think she kill us out of spite." The weapon shook his head but kept his place. "Just get over here. If it makes you feel any better I'll take her by the shoulders."
Reluctantly, Soul walked over to the girl's feet. Once there he crouched down and waited for his meister. "Maka," said Crona, "we're going to roll you onto you're back." She grunted in acknowledgment. Placing a hand onto the end of her midsection, he gave her one good push. With a groan she rolled onto her back. Going over to her head, he looped his arms under her armpits. "I got a held on her."
Grabbing Maka by the ankles, Soul said, "Same here."
"On the count of three we lift. One, two, three." With one good heave the boys lifted her into the air.
"Wow," commented Soul as they headed to a nearby pillar, "she light." Maka muttered something about abusive mothers being great for losing weight. Getting her to the pillar was easy. Getting her to sit up without any help on her part was a bit tricky. Yet they managed to adjust her body so she could recline against it.
"Thanks," said Maka without looking at them.
"No problem," said Crona as he and Soul stood up. "Do you mind being left alone?"
She chuckled which soon turned into a harsh coughing fit. "Don't worry," she said as soon of the coughing stop. "Even if I wanted to leave I can't. Damn body quit on me."
"Alright then," said Crona, "once we take care of the kishin we'll come back for you. Until then take a nap. You could use the rest."
"Promise to visit me in whatever cell the reaper keeps me in."
The sudden question catch Crona off guard but he was quick to reply. "Right after school I'll come and check up on you."
A small smile formed on Maka's face. "I was kidding. As for the nap, it doesn't sound like a bad idea." Resting her chin on her chest, she fell asleep with a smile.
"Come on Soul," said Crona as he turned toward the exit. "We got to catch up with the others." With a smug smile the weapon transformed. With the scythe in hand Crona sprinted forward toward the prison of the Kishin.
Groaning, a five year old Maka pushed herself up. "Why does my body hurt," she asked the world. Opening her eyes, she gazed down at a green, grassy floor. "Wait a moment," she whispered. "There's no grass in my room." Springing onto her feet, she surveyed the area. To her disbelief she was standing in a grassy field. "I'm outside," she said quietly. Louder and with more cheer she shouted, "I am outside." The second taste of the words felt better than the first. Smiling broadly, she chanted while jumping in place, "I'm outside! I'm outside! By god, I am outside!"
Running about in circles, she laughed at her good fortunate. She kept on running until she tripped and fell into the grass. Undaunted she rolled about, enjoying the sunlight kissing her skin. Coming to a stop, she looked at the sky. Without a cloud in sight the huffing sun burned brightly in the heavens. Flopping back into the grass, she continued to roll about as she laughed her head off.
Not too far off stood the remains of the mansion. Large, gaping cracks divided the walls. The roof was completely gone and pieces of wood and brick littered the ground. Surprisingly, the porch still stand but the door leading inside had been smash to splinters. Inside the house brunt marks shaped as slash marks covered the walls. Parts of the stairs collapse. On the second floor light spilled in from the newly made sun roof. Every door was smashed in, leading into blacken rooms.
In fact, the only room spared from the destruction was Maka's. Standing by the window, a dark haze and a blinding light stood side by side, watching the girl play outside. However, the light seemed a a bit dimmer and the darkness a little less hazy. For several more seconds the two entities endured each other company. The haze left first, heading to the basement. The light soon followed, claiming one of the second floor rooms as its own.
As it left a new picture appear on the wall. Place between that of a smiling Medusa holding a hand and that of a tabby kitten. The image of a pinked-hair child playing chess added a little more of a homely feeling to the mansion.
Sistine: Hope you guys enjoy the read. *Turn to the girls.* Have anyone got the ball working.
Dash: *Stare at it in confusion while Patty poke at it. Alice leaned back in her seat, watching the two with mild interest. * How do you work this thing? It a piece of glass.
Sistine: The thing came with instruction. Go find it and see if it can help. *Shaking her head.* So much for spiritualism. Anyway, as for the readers, please review. Good criticism, flames, and comments are always welcome.