Rewrite/Edit version – September 20, 2007
It was dark outside; the daylight hours had long since surrendered their last breath to the cold, soothing despair the twilight hours had to offer. The sky, stained the color of merlot, a deep red, almost black, gave no hope of a tomorrow that might never come. Nothing was right in this place, this future Eden. The cries of children could be heard if one had ears to hear and a heart to see the sadness, the anger, the empty pit in the bottom of ones' stomach. It was absolute nothingness. A nothingness in which life cannot exist, and all that is natural in the world fades away into oblivion, for that is what Eden is; nothing, a figment of a corrupt imagination given a title. Some may say that Eden is happiness, a paradise, a state of heaven in this dimension. They are all wrong. The time has come to show you, show the world about Eden. Are you ready to see? See true darkness? See the truth. No one really is.
---
"Get up." The words glided smoothly through the tenor voice, like liquid sex, caressing the ears of anyone who had the misfortune to hear them. The boy tilted his head up to gaze at the feet of the man speaking to him. Bloodshot amber eyes stared for a second before retreating back behind closed lids, almost afraid of being caught looking at perfection. "I told you to get up." Frustration, bitter anger hinted in the normally apathetic voice, a sign that there would be far worse punishments than the loss of life if he did not comply hastily.
Using the last little bit of stamina he had to offer, the boy pushed himself to his knees and spat out a mouthful of tainted blood, the result of disobedience. Then the pain came again, a type of pain that burned and froze at the same time, a numb, senseless feeling. He fell face forward onto the cold white tiled floor. Soft sobs seemed to echo in the empty building, as he laid there shivering, afraid, cowardice in the purest form.
A strong hand gripped the boy by the collar of his shirt and yanked him up off the ground like he was nothing more than a mere feather. The boy stared, rigid as a pole at the man before him. The mans' lips were pressed into a thin line, and his almost clear blue eyes, once tender and caring, showed nothing less than the wrath of a god blazing behind them.
He was god to the boy.
"I told you to get up Legato. Why do you insist on upsetting me? If it's truly anger than you want, then you shall find yourself with more than enough to sate your appetite." The man said as he shook the young boy forcefully snapping his neck back, straining the muscles.
Silent tears poured out of Legato's eyes against his will. He could not be weak, not now. If he were weak the master would never love him. "No, Knives." Legato whimpered in between restrained sobs.
Knives replace Legato to his position on the ground. No anger, or hatred appeared on his features, his brow was not wrinkled in disgust, his heart-shaped lips were completely void of any emotion known to mankind. He was peaceful in the lighter sense of the word. Not even those cold sapphire eyes showed anything out of the norm. Looking up through bloodstained and matted hair, Legato's eyes stared in question at the face of his savior.
Had he made him happy? Had he pleased his master, his angel, his bringer of hope? A slight smile of triumph appeared on cracked lips at the mere thought, it disappeared as soon as it was shone. Knives eyes glared down at him, like he was having his very soul analyzed. A sharp pain ran throughout Legato's body as he collapsed on the floor. Crimson blood poured from his lips, staining the tile further. Master struck him again, on the back this time, forcing him on his stomach, knocking the air out of him.
Knives crouched on the floor and promptly pulled Legato up by his hair "I told you never to call me Knives. You will refer to me as Master. I am your master. You are Vash. You are his replacement. You can be replaced. You will be replaced. Do you understand?" Legato fell silent for a moment before a quick moan drifted off his lips.
"Answer me!" Knives yelled
"Yes Master." Legato said in a monotone
"Yes you what?"
"Yes, I understand you Master."
"Good. Give me your clothes."
"Mas-"
"Give them to me! This is your punishment."
Legato undressed himself and handed Knives his clothing. It was evident that he was little more than a whelp, a starved little thing, all mangled flesh and bone, a symbol of the human race and its dependence. He looked up at his master's emotionless face; his heart sank, drowned in sorrow. I'm Vash's replacement. Is that a good thing? Yes, it is. I am his replacement because he isn't here. I don't want him to come back. If Vash comes back, the master will abandon me. I can't let that happen. But the master wants him back. The master is always right. Always. Legato thought to himself.
"Go outside and lay in the sun till I tell you otherwise." Knives voice pierced the dead silence.
"Why?"
Knives grabbed Legato by the throat and lifted his fragile body in the air. "Twice today you have questioned my orders, now it is my turn to ask why."
" I. . ."
"That's not good enough Legato, or is Legato too good of a name for you?
"I. . .I"
"All of you humans are alike, frightened, weak. Your very existence is a waste of life. You, slave, will always be human."
Suddenly, Legato was dropped; a loud snap reverberated on the walls, surrounding the entire complex. "Now, go outside slave."
Legato replied and fought to hide the pain in his knee as he limped out into the burning desert, leaving a trail of bloody footsteps in his wake.
---
A young fifteen-year-old Legato shifted in his bed sheets that were currently serving as blankets. He blinked tired, lackluster eyes a few times, trying to get rid of the fatigue that plagued him with limited success. Looking out the window above his bed, it was clear that the suns were just starting to bare their sadistic faces, it couldn't have been more than half past five. The master would want his slave soon, any moment now perhaps. Almost like he had read Legato's mind, Knives waltzed in, looking just as he has all those years ago when they first met, time never seemed to showed its effect on his physique. With what charm he could muster, Legato sat up, letting the sheets slide down his slender form to his waist level, and greeted his master respectfully with a slight bow and nod of the head.
Knives remained in morose silence when he arrived at Legato's bedside. Something about him was different today. His eyes were narrowed in thin slits, the ends of his lips, curved down, not too unusual.
"Have I been good to you slave?" the Master said acrimoniously, the words came out crisply, decisively.
"Of course Master, always Master." Legato answered without hesitation, although the momentary thought of how could he ask that question? crept into his mind, but he forced it out, he couldn't risk thinking such thoughts, not at this time.
"And what have you done for me slave?" Knives asked calmly.
"I have been searching for your brother Master."
"Is that all slave? Maybe you are more of an inconvenience than I formerly thought."
Legato's eyes shot wide open. One line beat his mind over and over You are Vash. You are his replacement. You can be replaced. You will be replaced. He's going to replace me. Legato swallowed hard, this could not happen to him; he would not allow it to happen. "I will do what you want Master. Your every wish I will answer."
"You haven't found my brother yet slave, maybe I should dispose of you, cleanse my hands of your disgrace."
Legato's heartbeat sped up ten fold. No, this. . .This can't happen. I am his most loyal. His slave. I have disappointed the Master. . .No. Legato grimaced. "I will find your brother, I will do as you command. I will find Vash for you."
"Yes, you will, and if you fail, Midvalley here shall be your substitute." Knives snapped his fingers once and a man, finely clad in a pressed suit, holding a saxophone stepped in. Midvalley was close to Legato's age, possibly a few years older, his brown hair was neatly slicked back, dark eyes sharp, predatory, almost tiger-like peered right into Legato's. Indeed. This man looked as though he could take the place of anyone here without the blink of an eye. Knives made a motion with his hand, and Midvalley walked back into the hallway. "Now, what can you do to prove that I should not replace you with Midvalley this instant?"
Legato opened his mouth to speak, but shock withheld his words. His hands, his whole body started trembling. He felt the tears well behind his eyes, he suppressed them, they were human. Jealousy was human.
It happened in a split second. He was lost for all thought, his mind, drawn a blank. Master, that wonderful, evil, godsend of a being drew close to him. The clean scent of soap filtered off of his presence, engulfing Legato in its euphoria. Their faces were barely apart, even the gentle beat of Master's heart could be heard in the overbearing silence of the moment. One could even smell the hint of cinnamon riding on Knives hot breath.
"Tell me Slave, tell me all that there is to be said." Knives voice dropped half an octave, a tone he reserved to intimidate people, and it always worked. Always.
Frantically, Legato thought of everything he could do, eat and kill. That was it; none of the options seemed too enticing. He looked deep into the Masters' awaiting eyes. If he didn't react soon, the inevitable would happen. There was one thing he could do. It was the only way.
Grabbing the back of Master's head, Legato pulled him into a forceful kiss; it was the highest sign of affection, love he could think of. It was what he had wanted, what he craved. The love of a higher being, the only love he was denied. Out of surprise more than anything Knives gripped Legato's shoulders tightly. A moan of pleasure came from Legato; he ran one of his hands through Knives' silky blonde hair, thinking that he was doing the right thing, thinking that he was to be accepted. Loved.
Without warning Knives jerked Legato's left shoulder back, dislocating it. Instantly, Legato released his hold on Knives and fell back on his bed, eyes wide open, pupils shrunk into tiny black specs, unbelieving of what just happened. He made no cry of pain, nor any sign of discomfort, not so much as a whimper, but his eyes, those yellow beauties, they told of it all. Knives corrected his posture and smoothed his hair back in revulsion with a spare hand. He had been tainted by human hands.
"You will never touch me unless I order you to." He walked to the doorway, and paused for a brief moment, eyes wandering back to the boy he left. " . . .Legato." With that he vanished out the doorway, disappearing without a trace.