Chapter Fifty-One
The Day The Music Died
"Well, here we are," said Kotaro casually, leaning against a chunk of masonry.
"Here we are indeed," replied Mana, shooting periodically over the rubble behind which she was taking cover before ducking down again as the enemy blasted their position once more.
"So what do you think of tonight so far?" asked the half-demon conversationally.
"A bit of a let down actually," replied the gunslinger, reloading her desert eagles. "It began nicely enough, but this attack has spoilt things slightly," she finished, resuming her shooting.
"Strange, I'm only finding it interesting now," smirked Kotaro, risking a glance over the fallen masonry.
"Sure. Now why not go attack him?"
The young boy just grinned like a wolf and leapt over the impromptu barricade as more explosions stitched across the battlefield. He moved to fast for the blasts to catch up with him as he sprinted towards the enemy, a tall man dressed in a flamboyant dark purple coat with an almost halo like collar, with a bleached skull mask. His chest was bedecked in armor resembling a ribcage, and his trousers were made up of black and white diamonds. In his gloved hands he held a massive guitar/cannon hybrid with a scythe blade on the end.
Kotaro could smell the man's surprise as he closed the distance, lashing out with his fist. The grim musician laughed as he spun away, allowing the boy to soar past. He brought his guitar around in an arc, aiming his scythe at Kotaro's back. A single shot struck the blade and pushed it off course enough for the lone wolf to avoid it. Kotaro smirked as he kicked the figure viciously in the chin, sending him upwards. Another shot rang out as Mana took advantage of their opponent's lack of defense.
The masked warrior twisted his body like a contortionist, narrowly avoiding the screaming bullet. Still in the air he struck the guitar viciously, emitting a deep bass note that rattled their bones. Mana's eyes went wide as she felt herself trembling uncontrollably, ruining her aim, whilst Kotaro screwed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth as he covered his ears in pain.
Muse landed deftly between them both, chuckling evilly. "Never underestimated someone's life's work." He spun his guitar once before striking a pose. "Now what should I play for you next?"
"Shut up and fight!" snarled the hanyo on his knees, glaring daggers at the artist.
"That is such a brutal way of expressing one's self! Then again, I can hardly expect anything else from such barbarians!" hissed the musician, his good mood evaporating, plucking at his guitar slowly. "You do not know of the beauty of the Muses!"
"Battle is not about beauty," intoned Mana coldly, steadying her aim as her eyes narrowed. Her pistol was light in her hands, and she could taste the gunpowder of the bullet, waiting to be struck.
"Ah, but there you are wrong! Battle is an art! The forms, the movements, the noises, the sights, the war music! One cannot experience anything like it anywhere else!" remarked their opponents, spinning around to face her, keeping his weapon pointed at Kotaro, who was struggling to his feet, clutching his ears. "Battle is art, you cannot deny it. The patterns of blood on the floor, the colors of your opponent's innards. Each thing is so unique! You are warriors, you should know that!"
"You're sick. True, fighting is fun, but seeing slaughter as a piece of artwork?" growled Kotaro, standing up and preparing to attack once more.
Muse sighed. "Some people just cannot appreciate true art. Fine, let me show you!" he cried, twirling in a circle as Kotaro leapt forwards and Mana opened fire. The agile artist easily avoided both attacks, watching the bullet speed past his face as he felt the younger boy fly past behind him once more. But this time, the wolfish youth landed and quickly leapt backwards, crashing into the taller fighter. They landed in heap, struggling against one another. Kotaro clamped his hands around the guitar and wrenched it out of Muse's grasp and hurled it away as Mana closed the distance, still aiming with her twin pistols.
It seemed like a needless gesture. The small black haired boy was thoroughly pummeling the skull masked youth. The blows continued to rain down, denting the iron visage. The hanyo was grinning wildly, thrilled with the combat, whilst the musician was oddly silent as he received the beating of a lifetime.
"See what I mean this isn't art!" howled the younger boy, punctuating each word with a blow.
Clockwork sighed. He was hunched over, like an obscene gargoyle, on a ledge of an as yet undamaged building, overseeing the whole debacle. Muse was…disappointing. Then again, it was always like this. He had always been a weakling, a support guy with his guitar. When on the frontlines, he was in major trouble unless he changed his tune. Clockwork smiled and shook his head as he caught his own pun. God, he was almost as bad as that musician.
He sighed and stood up, casting one more glance down at the beating taking place. He had seen this scene hundreds of times before, the new aspirants back at the laboratory always picking on the weakest of the Corsairs. Then he showed them his true strength and well…let's say that's the reason there were only five Corsairs. Clockwork spun on his heel and sprinted off the end of the builing, flying through the air like a spectre before landing on the opposite roof and continuing on. Muse wasn't high on his list of priorities. Heck, neither was Seeker. Right now, he needed power. And lots of it. Normally, that would be a bad thing, but this time it looked like fortune had come through for him. This place was riddled with paradoxes and time travelers, he could sense it. All that energy from alternate paths, from changing their pasts, from traveling through the void. It made his mouth water. True he only needed the lives of two or three…but when would he get another chance to feast on ten time traveling souls?
Ah, choices, choices…what little pleasure in life. Should he devour the feisty or the quiet ones first? Or perhaps the more intelligent ones? Or the prize fighters? Such a banquet this was turning out to be! But of course, there was one other thing vital to his plan. The World Tree. Fate, even Fortune would fall before him with its power. But time was of the essence. Fate's talon would be drawing closer, he could sense it. Leaping from rooftop to rooftop, he reached a decision. He'd take care of business first, and feast later. Why rush such a carefully prepared meal? Such delicacies had to be eaten patiently to fully be appreciated. Accessing the memories of his host, he quickly reached a decision of the two victims who would provide him with the energy to escape if necessary.
Chisame Hasegawa and Kaede Nagase.
It ended rather quickly when his fists were caught suddenly. He gaped in shock as his helpless opponent kicked him in the chest, hurling him away with a curse. Mana's pistols sang, and the bullets whistled and screamed as they hit the floor, Muse having already rolled away. He pushed himself up, quick as lightning, and hurled himself over to the shattered remains of his guitar, shock and disbelief riddling his eyes.
"My…guitar…" he breathed, cradling the shattered instrument in his arms like a child. Bitter tears flowed freely form his eyes, and he bit his lip until he drew bloody.
"That's enough," he heard the girl say, cocking her guns. "Now come with us."
"Or do you want another beating?" smirked the child.
He looked up, back still towards them, his skull mask dented, but his eyes burned with righteous fury. The music had ended. They had killed his music. One of his muses was dead. They would pay, by the goddesses, they would pay! His hands buried themselves in the corpse of his closest friend, his soul. He wrapped the wires around his fingers, smiling coldly as he remembered another art form. There was a reason he was a Muse and not a musician. Music wasn't the only art he knew.
"Come now, your weapon is broken, and you can't fight us both," said the girl.
Muse smiled coldly as he stood up and turned to face them, the long wires dangling from his slender fingers. "I don't have to fight you. You have to fight each other," he hissed, grinning crazily. Fast as a striking serpent, he struck. The wires sliced through the air, past Mana's stoic form, and into Kotaro. He saw the boy's eyes bulge in shock, but no sound or further movement escaped him. Muse smiled as he watched the trembling boy adopt a fighting stance, his face a beautiful portrait of terror. The gunslinger was none the wiser, thinking his attack missed. He could see her finger pulling the trigger, but it was too late. The music was dead. It was time for the puppet show!
