Children found weekends as a moment of getaway that lasted for two precious days. Unless if something came up, they would use that time to do whatever they wanted. It was common for boys to gather their friends and run to the local park to mess around. Once when they were bored again, they would either run to a nearby hobby, toy, or game store to explore entertaining gadgets and figurines. As soon as it was afternoon, the little boys hurry back to their families for dinner. Though, for the the larger, more mature, teenagers, they might go to a fast food restaurant for some grub.
Yet, making a list of people to kill was an unlikely thing for a boy close to Marth's age to do.
The door to Marth's room was locked from the inside. Although this made some loving parents suspect something was wrong with their child, Marth's parents assumed that their second-born, little son was studying and did not want interruptions. They were half correct. Marth did not want interruptions, through for different reasons.
Furiously scribbling down names in a tiny, unobtrusive notebook, Marth's dull, empty eyes vaguely read his victim's names. It had been a day since he fell for the dark yet sympathetic voice. Although his conscious warned him that this was immoral, Marth brushed the angelic voice away. After countless years of enduring his torments and loneliness, he finally broke down. There was no other way to escape from who he was. Marth was trapped in his jail cell. It would not help if he managed to break out. If he managed to escape, where could he hide as a fugitive? Marth had no place to return to. The only solution to his misery was to take the cruel, unjust world into his hands and alter it.
Although he was submerged in his own boiling lava, Marth still referred to his common sense. What if he got caught? If a pair of eyes managed to catch him in his devious act, he was through! His life would be ruined forever. His parents would not be the only one disappointed in him; all of society would look down at him!
Still, people mostly saw him as an eleven-year-old, azure-haired, cerulean-eyed, innocent boy who went to middle school. What if he committed his devious deeds under a new alias?
Marth silently finished writing his list. As he browsed through the list for any mistakes, he slightly smiled and softly closed the notebook. He had no regrets in his decision. This was it. This was the moment when his life was finally going to change. All he needed was a mask to shrink behind.
Listening for any signs of his parents, Marth went into his closet and rummaged through his belongings. He managed to find a dark blue overcoat along with a matching scarf. His mother brought it a few months ago for his birthday. After learning that it was a bit too large for him, she put it into his closet. While the large coat waited for the moment it could be useful, Liza's memory of it drifted into oblivion. Since his own parents probably never seen Marth in the overcoat, it was perfect for his disguise.
But, an overcoat could not prevent bystanders from looking at his face, the most recognizable trademark Marth adorned. He needed something to cover it. As he dug deeper into the heaps of his closet, he managed to find a lonely yet large box. Wondering what was its contents, Marth took it out and opened it.
Inside, was a plastic tiara, a large, decorative knife unsheathed in a small sheath, and a blue mask. The blue mask was the first object that caught Marth's attention. It was a midnight-blue butterfly with gold trimmings. A pair of eyeholes allowed its wearer to watch where he was going. Marth frowned at the concealing accessory. He remembered that Cia gave him the mask months ago so he could practice on toning his voice. Of course, it ended up being a disappointment. Even behind a mask, Marth still could not force himself to act.
Marth had to take a few moments to recognize the fake tiara. It was gold and adorned with fake rhinestones. The color that caught his attention was the faux aquamarine, as it was his favorite color. A thunderbolt of nostalgia struck him as he recognized the childish accessory. The tiara originally belonged to Elice. Years ago, when the two were still in elementary school, Elice would force him to play dress-up with her. Much to his annoyance, she always put the tiara atop his head. Finally, Marth got tired of Elice's impish antics. He somehow managed to steal the tiara and hide it in his closet. Sadly, this did not stop Elice from asking him to play with her, but at least he did not need to wear the stupid tiara. Marth smiled for the first time in days. He remembered the time when everything was carefree and blissful.
Marth decided to include both the mask and the tiara in his disguise. While the mask served a practical purpose; concealing his true identity, the tiara served as a charm for good luck. Since it reminded him of the happy days he once enjoyed, Marth found it as a motivation to achieve his dream of creating his own world.
The knife finally got its deserved attention. When he first saw it, Marth was perplexed. How did he get this weapon? Didn't his father forbid weapons in his procession? Was it a gift? How he obtained the dagger was not part of his interest, however. Marth was glad that he got easy access to a lethal weapon.
Now that he got all of his needed equipment, Marth sneakily hid it in his closet. He buried it in the back of his closet, the messiest part of his personal storage. No one would bother to look in the place. Besides, no one would not suspect anything!
Ten o' clock. It was a time for people to sleep or get ready to go to sleep. Throughout the city, the apartments' and homes' windows either shone a warm, lively orange or a murky, silent blue. For the people of Smashburg, it the end of the day, and they needed to rest to prepare for the next.
For Marth however, his day had not ended. It was still beginning.
Covering one of his pillows with his blanket, Marth knew that his family was not going to suspect him sneaking out late in night. They were going to assume that he was asleep like the good boy he was supposed to be. Although he knew that his father might check on him in the middle of the night, Marth did not have to worry. Cornelius did not have the willingness to look for details. If he saw even a tiny lump in his head, he would assume that Marth was sleeping and leave.
Now that he was ready, Marth silently opened one of his bedroom windows, which was blocked by an old oak tree. He got a long piece of rope and tied it to one of the tree's strong branches, before carefully stepping out of the window and climbing down the tree. Using the rope, Marth scaled down the tree and successfully made it down to the front yard without waking anyone.
Marth felt the knife in his coat's large coat and smirked, his lips forming a twisted, cruel grin. Finally, after years of his enemies giving him torment when he cried for help, they were finally getting what they deserved all along.
Their senses deteriorating due to the influence of alcohol, Gangrel, Mido, and Wolf ungracefully staggered down the dark streets, trying to find their way home. The only thing that illuminated their shady surroundings were the old, worn street lamps that desperately needed new light bulbs. The orange shade of light flickered as the three teens trudged dizzily, trying not to stumble onto the ground.
"Doooo you guysh k-k-knows where are w-weee?" Gangrel slurred as he dimly looked around his unfamiliar surroundings. "Our parentsssh will definitely get p-pissed off at usssh..."
"I have noooo clue...!" Wolf laughed, completely unaware of the dangerous situation he and his friends were in.
Hiding in an allyway, Marth nervously watched the unaware bullies slowly totter closer to their awaited demise. He unsheathed the knife with his shaky fingers, feeling that adredliene rush through his veins. Could he actually do this? What if the knife did not work? What if the bullies fought back? Well, it should not be a huge problem, as it was clear that they were drunk.
"Ooh man, I can'tsh feel my shoulder..." Mido sluggishly garbled.
"You won't feel anything in a few moments..." Marth sneered as he cautiously emerged from his hiding spot and crept towards his targets.
Wolf heard Marth's soft yet malicious words. "Did yeah guysssssh hear ssshomething?" he asked groggily.
"We're drunk, shooo yeah..." Gangrel responded. "You must beee heeearing thingsss..."
"R-Really?" Wolf turned around, only to be met by a fatal, brutal knife in the throat. "U-Urk!" he bearly managed to choke out, collapsing onto the ground as blood sprayed out of his mouth.
"What'sshh going onn?" Mido questioned, turning around and meeting the same fate. The very same knife speared him several times in the neck and chest as he shrieked in pain.
"Eh? Are ya guyssh ok back there?" Gangrel asked drowsily, just before Marth impaled him in the back with the razor-sharp knife. "Urgh...! Urk..."
Slice. Slash. Rip. Marth stabbed Gangrel in the chest and shoulder before "mercifully" finishing off with a slash of this throat. Now a lifeless, bloody corpse, Gangrel soundlessly tumbled onto the bloodstrained ground with his wretched cronies. A loud, unnerving splat spattered down the remote, murky streets. With a twisted grin, Marth eyed his weapon before looking at his recent, departed victems on the sidewalk, which was now a dark red. His newly-found weapon did work!
Looking around his shady surroundings for any bystanders, Marth was about to run away from the shocking crime scene when something struck him. He recognized the old, torn apartment building across the street. Whenever his parents and Elice had to go somewhere, he was taken to the apartment and left alone with her.
Maybe he could kill two birds with one stone. Feeling the aderaline bubbling excitedly in his veins, Marth raced across the street and silently entered the apartment complex. He impatiently hoped that she was in there. It would be a waste of time if he could not give the beloved, well-earned gift to her!
"Am I going to watch it? Oh, hell no!" Cia scoffed, clutching her phone tightly in bitterness. She leaned back on her sofa. "I know that famous actors like Cornelius Lowell and his wife are in it, but I'm still not going to watch it! My stupid twin sister is in it!"
Cia's answer was followed by angry, garbled words. "Oh, you're saying that I'm jealous and I should let it go? Well, I'm telling you that I'm just as good as Lana." Cia huffed in jealousy. "It's just that, everyone likes her more than me! She doesn't try hard in auditions to get in a movie, and always gets the part she wants! I on the other hand, practice every day before the audition and what do I get? A smaller part or rejection! It's ridicious! While Lana lives her life on fame, I have to tutor bratty children to make a living!"
A small knock on the door was what interrupted Cia's fuming rumbling. With an enraged groan, Cia said angrily, "Oh, some idiot knocked on my door. I'll talk to you later."
Slamming her phone on a nearby table, Cia thundered towards the door and furiously opened it. She was ready to slapping the smirk off her visitor. "What do you want?!"
Mysteriously, there was no one on the other side of the door. Sighing in aggravation, Cia slammed the door shut. It must have been those teenagers that lived down the hallway pulling their usual pranks on her.
Just as when Cia was about to sit back down in her comfortable sofa, there was another knock. This time, it was louder and much harder.
"The fuck?" Cia mumbled crossly to herself as she furiously opened the door again. "Who's out there?"
Again, there was no one in the hallway. Her boiling blood pressure rising with her anger, Cia slowly looked around before shutting the door.
"Whoever is doing this does not have a life..." Cia growled as she turned.
"KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!" The irritating sound finally snapped Cia in half.
"WHO THE HELL IS IT?!" Cia yelled wrathfully as she banged open the door.
Although she saw no one, Cia decided to roam around the hallway, looking for her tormentor. With a flashlight lighting her shadowy way, she explored the hall. For every corner she turned, she expected to see the glimpse of a impish teenager or child hurrying to get away. Strangely, no matter how long and how fast she stormed down the hallway, Cia failed to find her aggressor.
Giving up, Cia fumed back into her room. "I swear, tomorrow I will have a chat with Bowser." she grumbled, locking her door. "I'll tell him that if his children bother me one more time," she turned to go back to her seat. "I'll rip their eyes off and —EEEEEKKK!"
Sitting on her favorite sofa was an eerie little boy with a mask covering his face. The fact that he suddenly appeared in Cia's apartment room was not the reason why Cia became deathly terrified of her. If anyone besides Cia's closet friends were discovered in her home, she would kick them out in a blink of an eye. The thing that disturbed and horrified Cia the most was the fresh, cardinal blood that strained the boy's clothing, the small yet gleaming knife in his dominant, right hand, and her shattered, broken phone sitting on the ground.
Cia slowly backed away as the little murderer got off her seat and slowly came forward to her. "W-Who are you, and what do you want from me."
"Do you not recognize me?" her unexpected, alarming guest asked in a dark tone, pointing his weapon at her.
Cia failed to recognize the boy's soft yet chilling voice. "N-No..."
"Then I must be a good actor." Marth laughed as he took his mask off, tossing it away. His soulless, dull eyes gazed mercilessly at his prey.
"Marth?! Why are you here?" Cia exclaimed. She gasped when her back finally hit the wall.
"Simple. I've giving you a thank you gift." Marth answered as he raised his knife at his private tutor. "Thank you for teaching me how to act."
Cia was about to respond, only to get speared in the stomach twice with Marth's lethal weapon. As agony tore through her stomach and ripped her senses in half, she shrieked in pain as a certain, red liquid soaked through her clothes. It slowly flowed onto the flat floor, creating a puddle. Marth sadistically chuckled at the woman's pain. If it were not for the atrocious, deadly situation she was in, Cia would have viewed her student's smile as innocent and childish. However, the pure, white blanket was strained with blood. Marth's smile was now seen as daunting, even malicious.
Marth's giggle died as his expression fell into a serious, worried look. "Oh, you cannot fight back and save your own, precious life? Where's your whip?" he asked, trying to look innocent.
Breathing heavily in pain and gnawing her teeth in fear, Cia could only watch Marth reach into his left pocket with wide, violet eyes. She gasped loudly to herself when he pulled out her whip. How did he manage to find that?
"Oh, it's right here~!" Marth teasingly answered, mocking his tutor's helplessness. He giggled unnervingly before his cheerful smile fell into a merciless glare. "Aren't you going to fight back? Aren't you going to scold me for breaking into your room and hit me with your whip, like this?"
Clutching her stomach, Cia could not respond. She was beginning to feel faint due to blood loss.
Marth lashed Cia's whip at its owner. "Come on, fight back!" he mocked callously as he slashed the whip at Cia's face again. "Didn't you practice? You always told me to practice! This tells me that you never practiced! Such a hypocrite!"
As Marth continued to belt her with the long, sharp whip, Cia helplessly shrieked, wishing that someone could hear her pleas for help. She did not want to die this way. She wanted to die peacefully, alone in a quiet surrounding. Her heart continued to pound panicky as she gradually became dizzy. Eventually, Cia could not withstand her pain, resulting in her untimely blackout.
Marth continued to hit his tutor for several minutes. It was a matter of time until he noticed that she was not moving anymore.
"Hmmm?" Marth hummed with a carefree smile as he gave Cia a nudge with the sharp point of his blade. "You're not moving..." He felt for a pulse, only to fail to find one.
"She bled to death...!" Marth thought to himself as he began to chuckle to himself. "Hehehehe..." The bluenette's chuckle eventually turned into hysterical laughter. "Hehehehahaha—AHAHAHAHAHAHA!" he screamed, as he through her head back and tears of conflicting, overexcited emotions merged from his wide, crazed eyes.
From that instant, time stopped for Marth. It marked the moment when his inner demon finally consumed him.
A roar of uncontrollable, wild laughter was what caused Marth to jolt out of his sleep. His eyes darting around, he clutched his light covers as he tried to calm down. Marth's cerulean eyes tried to look through the barred door. Although he could not see what was happening, Marth assumed that someone finally broke down, unable to handle being locked in this restrictive asylum.
Hugging himself, Marth looked out of the barred window as he began to weep quietly to himself. It was night, which marked the end of his carefree, joyful life and the beginning of his new life; locked in this tiny cage for eternity. Judging by the nature of his new home, Marth assumed that he could hardly be given any food and warmth. After countless days, months, or even years, he would eventually every human beings, Marth did not want to die like this. He wanted to depart the earth surrounded by his loved ones after saying goodbye.
A pulse of pain in Marth's head caused him to whimper. His attention turned to the erratic dream he had. What was it all about? Did it symbolize his desires to break loose from this twisted hell? Ironically enough, the little boy closely resembled him.
"If people start breaking down like that, it'll give them a perfect reason to keep them here." A voice cruelly remarked.
Marth quickly wiped his tears as two security guards approached his cell. Judging by their youthful appearance, he assumed that they were new to the job.
"I know, right?" his partner responded with a laugh. He took notice of Marth, who fearfully looked back at him. "What are we supposed to do him now?"
"Take him to the showers." The first guard answered as he unlocked the cell and boldly approached Marth, who whimpered quietly in fear and cowered in the corner. "Aw, look! He's so scared! Masked Slasher my ass. I'm going to laugh so hard if he tries to escape this place naked."
"I know!" The guard's partner laughed at his friend's joke.
"Did he just call me that Masked Slasher?" Marth asked himself with wide eyes as the guard handcuffed him and violently pulled him off the bed. "Ahhh!" he exclaimed as a painful shock buzzed through his bones.
"Come with us, you got that?" the guard asked as he began to drag Marth out of his cell.
Marth hissed in pain and griped defenselessly. "Stop it!" he begged as he began to feel a stinging pain around his wrists. "You're hurting me!"
"Then come along with us!" the guard only impudently responded, giving the captive a swift kick in the ribs.
"AH!" Marth shouted as tears threatened to come. "I'm so scared! Please stop!"
"Get up!" the guard brashly ordered, shoving the poor blue-haired teen onto the ground.
"I want Woy!" Marth only sobbed dismally, curling into a defensive fetal position. "I want Woooy!"
The guard's partner sighed in frusteration. "Just drag him."
As icy water poured out of the shower head onto his body, Marth sat on the freezing, tiled ground, tightly hugging himself for warmth and comfort. The sound of water shattering on the ground was the only thing he could hear.
Although it had been only half a day in the facility, Marth desperately wanted to escape. He could not endure the fact that innocent people were held behind its bars, unable to see their loved ones. He did not want to wake up to the sound of people shrieking madly, slowly loosing their sanity. Through it sounded selfish, Marth did not want to end up like them.
But, how should he escape? Finding an escape route in his cell was futile. It would take too long. Besides, he would get discovered by one of the guards. Marth knew that the facility had strict, ongoing security. Eyes vigilantly watched every prisoner around the clock.
The only way to escape was when he was outside of his cell. Yet, Marth was still unsure. There were always guards watching him carefully whenever he was not confined. However, there might be a moment when he was left alone... What was it? It was at the tip of Marth's head.
Shower time. That was the only time Marth could think of.
Marth did not know how often the facility gave shower time. Judging by his instincts, it was not often. His hands touching the running water, Marth looked directly at the shower head. He knew that he needed to take advantage of this moment. If he wanted to escape this horrifying place, he needed to start now!
Without turning off the shower, Marth carefully pushed away the curtains and crept towards the entrance of the shower room. He saw the two guards talking uproariously, not paying full attention. As he quickly dressed in his florescent blue clothes, Marth carefully kept an eye on them. Since the two were not alert, Marth might have a chance to escape. However, Marth noticed the guns enclosed in a projective, leather case attached to their belt. Knowing his luck, he knew that the guards might hear him and threaten to shoot him. If he resisted, this could result in the end of his sorry life.
This left Marth with only one option, which was to attack the guards!
Without warning, Marth lunged at the guard with his backed turned to him. Once when he grabbed him, the guard began to struggle violently in his arms.
"He's trying to escape! Help!" he shouted.
The guard's partner pointed his pistol at him.
"Don't shoot!" The first guard exclaimed. "You're going to hit me—WOAH!"
Grunting in effort, Marth tossed the guard at the second guard, sending them flying across the hallway. As he watched his opponents slide away from him like ice cubes on a flat surface, he noticed a key lying on the ground. Interested, Marth picked it up and looked at it, Hmmm, this might be useful.
"Get him!" The first guard shouted. His partner pointed the gun at Marth, who quickly scurried away, down the hallway. "Don't shoot him! Gharnef wants him alive!"
Marth's stomach began to nervously turn as he hurried down the hallway. "I know where to use this key!" he said to himself as he dashed towards the back door. "I know!"
Grabbing the door's handle, Marth used the key to unlock it and rushed into the cold, dark night with the two guards trailing him. "He's escaping! Get him!"
As he ran around the large, intimating building, Marth looked around for the bridge. He knew that he could not just jump into the water and try to swim to shore! It would be too exhausting for his weak body! Besides, Marth had doubts in his swimming ability. Much to his relief, Marth saw the unguarded bridge in the distance. He began to run faster towards the reviving, hopeful structure. It was a hand that could gently take him back home.
The only thing Marth heard was the sound of his own footsteps thumping panicky on the bridge's concrete ground. His azure hair whipping in his eyes, Marth turned around, looking for any signs of the guards. He did not see them, making Marth smile in relief.
Marth's reprieve only lasted for a few seconds though. The found of a horn blaring jolted Marth out of his fantasy, making him look ahead of him. The glaring, bright headlights of a truck made his heart flip-flop in panic. His face turning white, Marth realized that if its drivers saw him, they might catch him and bring him back to the facility! What should he do? Should he try to sneak around it?
As the truck quickly grew bigger, Marth's fight-or-flight survival instants urgently rolled a dice. The dice read, "Jump."
His heart beating hysterically and his head pumped with anxiety and desperation, Marth leapt off the bridge, into the violent, cold water.
Author's Notes: Cia, you thought your day was bad enough huh?
Happy whatever-doesn't-offend you! I guess you can consider this my gift to all of you guys. (It is kinda odd when you think about it.) So far, I still think that this story is rated T. I've read some horror fanfics with this rating before that had more character deaths and violence, so I think it's ok. I hope you guys have a great holiday!
I understand if you point out some spelling errors. For some reason, I didn't spell names like Marth, Eliwood, and Palutena correctly, so Microsoft Office decided to rage quit and stop checking for spelling errors in my long story.
In case you don't know, this chapter and probably the next few chapters will jump from Marth's past to the present. Don't be confused!
Story Questions:
Do you think Marth's victims deserved to die?
Again, your usually "What do you think it's going to happen next?" question. I need to be more creative.
How should Marth realize that he is the Masked Slasher himself?