Noah's Hitman:
Chapter 3: Death and Renewal.
Two days later…
The church bells tolled overhead, the loud sounds permeating through the air and travelling all across the small town that Hit had resided in for the past ten years.
It hadn't taken long for the authorities to show up after his father had been discovered dead. His body having been safely removed from the bed and taken away. No doubt to prepare him for a proper burial.
It hadn't taken long for them to decide on the cause of the death for the man either. Black Lung Disease, they called it. The effects of inhaling in coal dust from the air over a long period of time having done too much damage to the lungs, which led to them giving out in the middle of the night.
Right now, they were heading to the church inside of a carriage. The man's funeral was due for today. After they were done here, his coffin would be lowered into the ground to rest, something he knew of quite well as many different races from Universe six back in the day practised something similar.
Well, minus the religious aspect of it all, anyway.
He felt his hand be squeezed by his mother, and if it hadn't been for how ghostly pale her complexion had become, he was sure her knuckles would've turned white from how hard she was gripping his hand, as they sat together inside. Him garbed in a simple dark-brown shirt and pants with some simple, relatively cheap shoes on, while she was garbed in a flowing black dress that reached down to her ankles, with small heels of the same colour worn over her feet.
Outside of the bells ringing, he could hear the woman's quiet sobs next to him, her eyes ringed red from all the crying she'd done over the last two days. When the shock of her husband being dead had wared off, that was all she'd done since then. She hadn't eaten or drank anything since then, least not from what he could see, preferring to huddle herself in whatever corner she could find, or if he was close enough, pull him into a deep hug that felt like she was trying to drive the wind out of him. Her tears free flowing down unto his shirt as she buried her face into his small shoulder.
If the ex-assassin was being honest, he hadn't really known what to do in that situation. Having been a professional killer for so long in his previous life, he was by no means well equipped to comfort someone during their time of grief.
That wasn't to say he hadn't made an attempt though, awkwardly patting her back and, in a softer voice than usual, being wary of his mother's current state, had tried to tell her it was going to be okay.
Of course, he knew it wouldn't be, given the circumstances, but he really couldn't think of anything else to say. That is what someone told a loved one when they lost someone important to them, right? He'd never really stayed around long enough during the few funerals he'd attended way back when to find out, as it didn't really concern him.
Even though on all those occasions he was the one responsible for that person's death, but that was just business. He was hired for it and did the job. He wasn't sure what had drawn him to the funerals of his targets, even to this day. Perhaps it had been to pay his final respects? He didn't have anything against them personally, unlike the ones who'd hired him, so he supposed that maybe it.
"We're here." He heard the carriage driver say in a gravelly tone. The horses that had been pulling them along up to now coming to a stop outside.
His mother didn't say a word to the man, even as he rounded towards the door and opened it allowing the to step out in front of the town's church, the bells still tolling even now as they got out of the vehicle.
The church itself had an oddly gothic design to it, with pointed spires jutting up towards the sky and painted glass windows that allowed light to pass through them.
"My condolences to you both." The carriage driver said, unperturbed and unoffended by his mother's lack of a response to him. The man having no doubt seen people in her state before in the past plenty of times. Given his wrinkled face, he was easily middle-aged, so the former hitman wouldn't doubt that being the case.
Hit was the only one to look up at the man, garbed in a dark blue suit with a matching, small hat worn over his head. Not a lock of hair to his name as Hit nodded at him in understanding, getting a look of sympathy back from him as his mother began walking forward. Pulling him by the hand as she walked towards the church.
Taking a quick look around, the young-looking boy could see plenty of the townsfolk milling about towards the entrance as well, all of them avoiding his eyes and gazing at his mother's back as they walked into the building. "They can't even look at us…" Its as if they thought they were so fragile right now that even looking at them funny would garner a negative reaction.
They needn't have bothered. The woman clutching his hand was too distraught right now to care what the people around her thought or did, and as for himself? Well, other than the initial surprise at seeing his father's corpse, he wasn't really affected at all by what was going on. As callous as that might sound, given it was his own dad of this world that had died, he just didn't feel anything for his passing. A mixture of him not being emotionally connected to the man in the first place, given he'd never been good with that sort of thing, but also because he was so desensitised to death at this point after all that he'd seen in his previous life, that it just didn't affect him like it would other people.
Like it clearly affected his mom of this reality.
He didn't blame her for that. It was clear that unlike him, she'd grown close to the older man, and genuinely loved him just as much as she did him.
As they made their way inside, Hit felt the woman leading him along stiffen up, which brought his gaze over to the cause. The coffin laid out before the altar, no doubt housing the body of his deceased parent within its wooden shell.
Trying to be considerate, Hit squeezed her hand right back with his small hand, seemingly bringing the woman back to reality. Her head tilting as her red eyes glanced down at him, though that was hard to make out given how her frazzled, messy hair obscured a good portion of her features. He could still make out how her lips quivered though, her eyes not only showing how much she'd been crying over the last two days, but also the severe lack of sleep she had as well. What with the bags that had formed under them.
Her face scrunched up then for a brief moment, as if she was about to start bawling her eyes out again. She probably would've too, if she had enough tears left to do it.
She led him over to the top row then, bringing them as close to the coffin as she could before sitting down. Her gaze becoming fixated on the wooden box from then on, as more and more people filed into the building.
Behind the altar, stood a stone-carved statue of the most important person of his mother's and these people's religion. Jesus Christ. His arms splayed wide before him, as if welcoming all those coming in with open arms to his sanctuary. The priest wasn't far away from the statue, clearly getting ready to begin his part in this whole thing.
Hit let out a small sigh, which his mother must've misconstrued as a depressed one, as despite her own awful mood, she gave his hand a light squeeze before letting it go and circling her arm around the back of his neck. Holding him closer to her side without looking down at him.
She was seeking comfort, that much was clear, and she believed he was too. He allowed her to think that, even if it wasn't true, and simply allowed the woman to hug him close, like she'd been doing the last few days. It was the least he could do, and he wasn't so cold as to deny her even just the semblance that this might be giving her from the depressive atmosphere.
"That poor woman…" Hit heard someone whisper not far away. A distinctly female one, from what his ears could make out.
"I know." A male voice cut in. "Can't imagine how she's going to cope now."
"Yeah… especially since she'll have to raise her son on her own…" Another male voice spoke up. His voice sounding sympathetic. Not unlike the carriage driver earlier. "That definitely won't be easy, especially since she has no way to support them both…"
"She's right here, you know." Hit thought in minor annoyance. Seriously, did these people think they were being discreet? Because none of them were as inconspicuous as they thought they were.
"These things happen I suppose…" A more elderly, female voice piped in. "That girl… she really should've known better. Marrying a man almost twice her age who worked in the mines… what was she thinking?"
"Love blinds us all, I guess." Another woman close to the elder shrugged. Hit could tell they were relatively close as well. Probably on two or three rows done at most. "Rumours have been going on about those two for awhile…"
"Yeah… I've heard about those…" Another male voice quipped in, doing his best to be as quiet as possible along with the rest. And like them all, he failed miserably. "Some people think she eloped with him over here after a spat with her family..."
"Couldn't be." The old woman piped back in. "That man's never so much as left town, from what my son has told me. From what I've gathered, she travelled here with her parents around a decade ago. I'm not sure why on that, but what I do know if that's true, is that they left her here not long after."
"Really?" One of the other women asked, at this point for no other reason than gossip, without a care in the world for the woman they were talking about, who he was damn sure could hear them just as much as he could. "You think he knocked her up, and that's why they left without her?"
"I wouldn't doubt it. Though, again, these are still just rumours at the end of the day." The elderly woman sighed. "This isn't really the time for us to be discussing this anyway. We are in the house of God right now. It would behove us to show a little respect for the deceased…"
The others murmured their agreement and Hit almost felt like scoffing at that. After they had already talked behind her back like that in this supposed 'house of God' and effectively insulted her character, now they wanted to stop and leave insulting her again for later? "Cowards… talking behind someone's back when they're in ear shot…" A stone-cold assassin he may have once been, and even now he really wasn't an emotive person, but shameless and disrespectful he was not. Hell, he was pretty sure even the hardened mob bosses of the criminal underworld back during the old days would've had more restraint for their dead enemies than these people did.
It was almost laughable how they were managing to sound empathetic for her plight, whilst also being condescending at the same time for the supposed origins of hers and his dad's relationship. Like that was any of their business what had gone down between them. Pathetic.
Not even a minute after their prattling came to an end, the priest, garbed in his ceremonial robes coloured red and white stood up to the podium.
Hit effectively zoned out of what the holy man was saying, knowing it would be just a bunch of religious preaching he didn't care for. While it was going on though, he felt a prickling sensation in his head, which nearly garnered a groan out of him. "Great… the headaches are back…"
Since his father had passed, the last two nights had been rather… peculiar. Whilst his mother had struggled and failed to get to sleep herself, understandable given the man's death was fresh on her mind, and had died right beside her, he hadn't had too much issue going to sleep at all, even with the recurring headaches which seemed to hurt even more, and he had no clue why.
It was the dreams however, that were getting to him. On the night his father had passed, he had dreamed of a flood of some description, as well as those thirteen figures. The two nights following that had been… he didn't even know how to put it…
The dreams, which honestly felt more and more like some weird, distant memories, had shown him even more of those bizarre events he'd seen in his first and second dream. He still couldn't make out any features from the figures, but there was no denying the familiarity he felt towards them. The close kind one could only have with a tight-knit family, which felt even more absurd to him, and only just confirmed to him further that it had nothing to do with his previous life in Universe six. He'd never really had a family there and had essentially been a loner all his life.
But there was something else though. Outside of the screams he could still hear in each one, there really hadn't been anything else he could hear in those otherworldly dreams, up until the one he'd had last night.
It had gone about just like any other, showing him carnage being wrought on the world, with him now standing side by side with the other twelve figures as one of them. Only this time, at the end of it, he'd heard a name being whispered to him. Not by any of the shadowy figures there, but more from what felt like the very dreamscape around him in his subconscious. A name that had him snapping awake and at attention, despite never having heard it before, but it felt so familiar and important to him. Not like the name of a family member or a friend though… no… when that name was uttered, it felt like his name was being spoken, despite it not being the case.
"Toraido." Hit thought to himself. The name reverberating in his mind as though it were a lost memory that he'd just recovered from a bout of amnesia. "Who in the world is that? Just what exactly are these 'dreams' trying to tell me?" He was long past the point of writing them off as just dreams, and knew they all held some kind of purpose, he could feel it in his very soul, but he just didn't know what it was.
It was all just so confusing… Even after all the things he'd been through, counting his days in the now destroyed universe he once called his home, he'd never felt anything like this. Before, he'd always been able to keep himself ahead of the game, and always knew what he was doing, and what was going on around him, whether it pertained to the criminal underworld, or just everyday life in the cosmos.
Right now, though, for the first time ever… he felt like he was truly out of his depth, without a clue about what was going on. No matter what he pieced together, nothing of what he saw in these dreams made sense to him. All he could do, was get the gist of what was going on, but he had no understanding of the meaning behind them, and nor did he have a clue why those faceless shadows felt as familiar as they did. Like they were his long-lost family that were just waiting for him to come home, which made absolutely no sense to him still, and he thought preposterous given who he was.
It was then, however, that the prickling in his head morphed into something much worse. Hit could feel his eyelids scrunching up as it felt like a chisel was taken to the back of his skull by a hammer. Pain suddenly erupted a hundred-fold from what it had been just a second ago. Like something was trying to burrow its way out of his head again but doing so as slowly and agonising as possible to cause him the most grief. "For goodness sake… when are these going to stop…?" It only got worse from there, somehow, as if he'd just tempted fate. Beads of sweat beginning to appear around his temple, as he felt his hand rise up and touch his forehead. A burning sensation coming out of thin air, which to him was like his skin being set on fire from the inside out.
Of all the headaches he'd had up to now, this was undeniably the worst of them. He could feel his teeth grit down, his face creasing up as his fingers dug into his temple. A poor attempt on his part to lessen or at least control the pain in some way, which backfired quick as it only increased in intensity further. "Damnit… why does it feel like something's trying to carve its way out of my skull…?"
His mother must've misread his little episode again, as he felt her pull him in just a little closer for a form of added comfort. She might've even looked down at him and noticed the droplets of moisture now flowing down his cheeks and mistaken it for tears. He'd let her believe what she wanted. He may have even appreciated the gesture if he didn't currently feel like writhing in agony on the floor, clutching the front of his cranium as if it were about to burst open!
It persisted longer than any other one previous to it. Dragging out in what might as well have amounted to torture as far as he was concerned. One minute, it felt like it was scalding his flesh, making it sizzle beneath the surface of his sweating skin like it were on a hot grill or worse, placed within a furnace, then the next minute, it was like he was getting stabbed and scrapped from within his skin by a multitude of tiny, razor sharp knives. All of which taking their sweet time with it as well. Nothing that felt like a clean stab through, but more like a butchered attempt where the assailants failed every time to properly puncture his skull but were persistent enough to keep trying over and over again.
Even with all of his discipline from his old life, it didn't prepare his new body for something so excruciating. Despite his best efforts, a few pained hisses flitted through his grounded teeth as he held himself as firm as possible against the running tide.
Hit wasn't sure how long it had been when his blitzing headache finally began to subside somewhat, and allow him a reprieve from its oppressive, agonizing hold. His breaths coming out more haggard than they ever had before.
The headache was still there, but it was more like dull throbbing now as it petered off. "What in the hell is wrong with this body…? Everything was fine up until recently, and now I can't stop having these…"
Hit dared to open his eyes a few seconds later, hovering over the casket housing his dead parent, before floating up to the priest by the altar. His ear pricking up as he heard the man proclaim to all in attendance, "And may the soul of James Williams forever rest in peace and find everlasting happiness in the presence of our God who art in heaven. Amen!"
"Amen!" The rest of those gathered around them uttered in unison.
It seemed that the procession was over with, as the priest brought out four young men from the town to pick up the coffin, as all of those seated had to rise up. Not another word was said by the priest as he walked into the back of the church, all while the four men who Hit barely paid any mind to, carried the coffin out of the church.
Hit's mother of this world rose up as well, albeit shakily, taking him by the hand as she followed the coffin's path, knowing her husband was about to be buried. The crowd of people around them slowly filed away from their rows as well, forming almost like a small colony of ants behind them as they all came out of the church. There was a graveyard that Hit only just noticed then that was placed right beside the building itself, housing more than its fair share of tombstones for the recently and long-since deceased.
A shallow grave had been dug out somewhere near the centre, making it clear which plot they'd chosen as the quad of men stalked steadily towards it.
Throughout it all, even as they reached the hole in the ground, and prepared to lower the casket in, the once vibrant woman that had become his mother never stopped staring at it. Her gaze unblinking, but eyes welled up to release another fresh bout of tears that never came, because she'd already run out of them by now. That didn't stop the look of despair permeating in her once jubilant, loving pools of red, which were now a much duller shade, as if the very life had been sapped out of them.
Hit was no expert on any of this, but even he could tell how much she'd truly cared for that man. And now that he was gone, ignoring the dull-aching pains in his head trying to distract him, it was easy to see that a hole had formed inside her heart. Not literally, of course, but it likely felt like it from her perspective.
Once the casket was finally lowered in, the crowd of people formed around them in a semi-circle, and taking a quick glance over, he saw them bowing their heads in some form of respect, though after what he'd just heard in that church from certain people, it was easy to tell most of it was fake. Most, if not all of them, likely here purely out of some form of obligation, since a member of their community had died, and not because they actually knew him personally.
Some of the men in attendance, dressed similarly to his dad had usually been, were most likely his 'buddies' from down in the mines. They at least, looked genuine in their stoic, but somewhat sorrowful expressions.
Just then, the former assassin felt the aches in his skull spike once again, but dutifully ignored it this time, as it wasn't as bad as the preceding one. That wasn't to say though that it didn't feel like something wasn't trying to carve his forehead open like a pumpkin.
His mother let go of his hand nary a second later, bringing it and her other one together, clasping them tightly in a form of prayer. Her soft sobs being heard by all as she remained fixated on her husband's resting place.
It was about the time where the four men started picking up their shovels left nearby, and shovelled dirt over the coffin to finish the proceeding, that someone stepped up close to the grieving widow. A woman who appeared dressed in a long woollen dress and some woolly hat placing her hands on his mother's shoulders in an empathetic manner.
"There, there Lyra. He's in a better place now…" The woman said softly, earnestly believing what she'd just said. She was obviously on more friendly terms with the distraught widow, as she leaned her head into her shoulder without a second thought. Her weeping becoming muffled in the other woman's shoulder.
Those around them began to disperse less than a minute later, as the four men finished chucking the dirt unto the casket, sealing up it and the shallow hole dug for it in soil.
Hit found himself stepping away from the two women, seeing as his mother now had a shoulder to cry on that wasn't his. His head all the while pounding like there was a small man inside with a pickaxe just bashing it against his skull. Bringing with it yet another sensation of his flesh somehow feeling it was being carved inside out, slowly and deliberately. Almost like a prisoner slowly trying to chisel their way out of their prison cell's walls.
The 'young boy' found his eyes squinting shut momentarily once again. Yet continuing to steadily strut forward, as if to walk off the searing pain that was engulfing his head. Had he been your average, everyday ten-year-old, he had no doubt he'd be in tears right now, wailing like a toddler that didn't get their way.
"Such a tragedy."
Hit found himself stopping at that new, distinctly male voice. His red eyes peeling open as the pain dulled again, only to notice someone standing right in front of him. Either he'd stuck around even as the rest of the crowd left, or he'd only just arrived, and he simply hadn't noticed.
"A poor, lost soul being separated from their loved one… truly, an awful day indeed." The man continued. Hit found himself peering up at him in that moment, overcome by an odd bout of curiosity.
He was quite tall, easily standing over six feet, and to say he was dressed oddly for this kind of neighbourhood was putting it lightly. His attire consisting of a tan overcoat with a light purple inner collar, a black and green striped shirt, black trousers, and pitch-black shoes that curled up at the toe. White gloves were worn over his hands, with his left clutching on to a cane that he held lazily by his side, putting nary a hint of weight down on it as the bud pressed into the ground by his side. A silly looking top hat adorning his head that had some eccentric decorations, such as reddish-pink lily flowers along the left side, which were bizarrely shaped like spider now that he got a better look, while the right had a pair of white lilies with long, oval leaves. A few locks of black hair spilt out under the rim of the hat and just above his amber eyes. His face itself appearing middle-aged at first glance, with bags under his eyes not too dissimilar to his mother's, though notably less puffy and red. A stubble like beard and moustache running along his jawline and above his lips, effectively giving him five-o-clock shadow.
If Hit was being honest, the man almost looked a clown without the makeup on. Like he was on his time off from the circus and had just stumbled his way over here by sheer coincidence.
But the aura he put off on the other hand… and that look in his eyes… it was far from the look of a man who'd just so happened to come across all of this. He may no longer be the hitman he once was, but reborn in a new body or not, it didn't completely get rid of the instincts that had been ingrained into him, down to his very soul.
It wasn't just that either, though. What was really starting to set his warning signs off about him, was that he was giving him the exact same vibe he got off those shadowy figures from his dreams. That inescapable, befuddling feeling of familiarity, like he'd just laid eyes on a long-lost family member he hadn't seen in ages.
"Hmm?" The man stopped himself, gazing down as if only just now noticing his presence. A light twinkle entering his amber pools as he smiled down at him. "What's the matter, young one?" He asked with an out of place, jovial sounding voice that clashed heavily against the atmosphere up to this point. Although, his eyes noticeably gained a small bit of concern once they scrutinised him a bit more. "Dear me, are you alright little man?" He broached softly, his jovial tone receding a bit as he knelt down to eye level with him. "Are you sick, perhaps? You do look quite pale…"
Hit's eyes narrowed immediately despite the biting pain in his head. This guy… who in the world was he? He'd never met him before a day in his life, this one or the previous. For all pre-tense and purpose he was just some random weirdo that had wandered in to the graveyard at some point during or after the whole affair. And yet as the man looked him over, it was like he was being inspected by an older brother of sorts, and he hadn't the faintest idea why it felt like that.
"My now… not much of a talker, are you?" The man remarked in slight bemusement over his silence. "I guess it's to be expected," He continued, going so far as to rest his free hand on his shoulder in a comforting manner. "I'm guessing that woman up there weeping her heart out is your mother?" He motioned his head over the two women's way, which Hit strangely felt no issue in nodding his head affirmatively for. "I see… then that means the man who just got buried today was your father… I suppose it's no wonder you're not in the mood to talk." He said, seemingly lacking the self-awareness to know that he was basically a stranger to him, or he should be anyway, and that typically children were taught to not talk with strangers. Something his mother of this world like any worrying mother had tried to ram into his head, not knowing the kind of experiences he'd had before being reborn. Giving him a calm and cautious nature by virtue of what he'd had to deal with on a weekly basis back in the old days, before he'd acquired his time-skip even.
And yet, that confounding feeling of familiarity struck him again. As if whispering in the deepest parts of his subconscious that this clownishly dressed man was no stranger at all. That he should recognise who he was, even though he hadn't a clue. Something like that should've put him on edge, and had he been in any situation like this in Universe six, or hell, even in this new reality he inhabited with anyone else, it would have. But instead, he was feeling a level of ease coming over him, with the exclusion of his aching head, being around the strange man's presence.
He had no reason to tell this man anything, and quite frankly, he should've just shrugged his hand off and walked away without a word being said. But against all rime or reason, and against his usual judgement on just about every level, he spoke. "It's got nothing to do with him."
"Oh?" the man blinked, looking somewhat surprised hearing him reply, before a curious gleam entered his gaze. "Then what's troubling you, if I may?"
That was none of his business. That's what he would've told just about anyone else right now. And what he should've told him as well. And yet… he didn't. "Headaches."
The man blinked again, looking genuinely taken aback by that. "Headaches…?"
"Been having them for weeks now." Hit continued, not missing the way the man's eyes started to widen. "They just keep getting worse. Feels like my head's about to split open at any moment."
"Split open, you say?" The man muttered, his jovial voice all but gone now. His eyes looking like they'd just seen a ghost, as they hovered over his forehead, as if expecting his temple to literally split apart then and there. "Tell me… have you been having some interesting dreams lately?"
Now it was Hit's turn to have his eyes widen in shock. The alarm bells going off in his head despite the out-of-place serenity he felt around this individual. Staring him dead in the eye with an analytical gaze that could never belong to a normal boy, he could tell right away that hadn't been a throwaway question. This man knew something. He definitely knew something that he didn't. "How did-"
Just as Hit was about to ask this man for some answers, as if ordained by fate itself, the pain in his head all but skyrocketed. Dropping to his knees in an instant, Hit was rendered helpless under a fresh of wave of cranial agony that assaulted him. His hands flying up and clutching the sides of his skull, grabbing fistfuls of hair in the process, as he let out an audible, pained hiss through his now grounded teeth. Even his eyes were forced shut again, squinting so hard the skin around his eyelids began to crease.
"Damn it!... will these ever stop!?" This one was easily as bad as the first one today, if not worse! Normally, Hit was a calm and collected person, something earned through all his time as a professional killer in his former life. It wasn't often that anything ever rattled him, but he found no shame in admitting right now that this was doing it for him. He was reaching his wits end with this. He needed answers, and this man may just have what he sought. He had to hope this guy knew what was going on with him, because he was no longer in the mood to deal with this crap.
"I can feel it…" The man whispered lowly to himself, barely loud enough for Hit to even hear. "There's no mistaking it…" Was that… excitement in his tone? "It's finally happening… one of them is finally coming back!..."
"What… the hell is he on about? Wh-What's finally happening?... one of them is finally coming back?... What does that even mean…?" Peeling his eyes open with a lot of effort, Hit stared up blearily at the still kneeling man, and even through his limited vision, the once legendary assassin could make out the changed expression now adorning the man's face. One of pure, unrepressed joy, with a smile that might as well be splitting his face in two, and… hold on, were those tears in his eyes?
What was up with him all of a sudden?
"Oi, you there! What do you think you're doing?!" A sudden voice cut in, sounding aghast. It was the voice of the woman who'd comforted his mother. "Get away from that boy now, you creep!" Through the agonizing pain, Hit couldn't be sure if the angry sounding woman's voice had gotten closer or not. His senses were starting to fail him. He couldn't even look up at the man anymore, as he fell on to his side. His knees curling up towards his stomach on instinct, bringing him into the foetal position as his consciousness began to wane. His ears beginning to ring and tune out all sounds around him as he lost focus.
"My dear child, don't you worry." The man suddenly piped up elatedly, his voice coming across perfectly clear to him despite his predicament somehow, when all other sounds became white noise to his ears. "This pain you're feeling right now, as bad as it will get, you'll get through this. Trust me, it'll all make sense soon enough."
For Hit just then, the pain consumed him entirely, far worse now then it had ever been, and the world around him went dark.
Later that day… around night-time…
"Oh honey… what am I going to do…" Lyra spoke softly, her puffy red eyes fixed on to the shaking form of her son, laid out on his own bed. Her body knelt by his bedside watching over him. His face deathly pale and full of sweat, his teeth gnashing together in his sleep from what must've been excruciating pain, that she had no idea of the cause of. "First you die, and now our son has fallen ill… and I don't know how to help him…" Bessie, her dearest friend, bless her heart, had been the first to notice her boy collapsing to the ground in a heap. She'd shouted at that weird man near him to get away, before helping her get her son back safely to their house and into his room no more than four hours ago.
She hadn't left him at all since then, and his condition hadn't gotten any better either. He still clutching his head in both his tiny hands, even in his sleep like it was about to pop open at any second.
Bessie had managed to get hold of one of the local doctors since they'd gotten back and had managed to get him over here to check on her little man.
Unfortunately, the poor man hadn't the faintest clue what was wrong with him. Even after checking on him for what felt like an eternity, he'd come up with nothing. Not even the slightest diagnosis for his current condition. Bessie had all but barked the doctor's head off before he left with a rushed apology, before she too left as well. Telling her to remain strong and hope for the best. To call her over if she needed her help.
Normally, she may have accosted her pal for her behaviour towards the doctor, knowing that he had tried his best under the circumstances, and simply came up short. It happened to all of them and getting bent out of shape about it wouldn't help anyone.
Not this time though. She'd didn't have the heart to tell her friend to calm down then, not while her own son was the one who needed help.And not even a day removed from when she'd had to watch her husband be lowered into the ground, no longer there to help support her with their child.
The timing of this really couldn't have been any worse…
Fresh tears managed to well up in her eyes, even after all that she'd spent already. "Oh James… why did you have to go?..." Tears now falling down her stained cheeks, her hands gripped the linen of her boy's bed so hard the knuckles turned white, shaking all the while like a leaf blowing in the wind as she struggled to contain herself. Alas, as had been the case the last few days, she failed miserably in doing so. "Can't you see how much our boy is hurting…? Can't you see how much I'm hurting…?" She sobbed almost hysterically, placing her forehead against the soft mattress as her tears dripped down to the floor.
Two days… that's all it had taken for her life to turn upside down…
Just two bloody days, and she'd lost her husband, and now she might even lose her precious little man for all she knew…
Why… why was this happening to her!?
Had she done something wrong? Did she commit some sin she wasn't aware of, and this was God's way of punishing her?
"This isn't fair…" She wept, raising up to look at her boy's sleeping face, full of nothing but pain, when it should've been serene. It was at a time like this more than anything that she wished with all her heart that James was still there with her. Right by her side to help her through this, even if just as a shoulder to lean on, and nothing else… "Damnit James… I need you…"
"Well now, isn't this just a sight that tugs on the heartstrings~."
Lyra froze stiff at the sound of the new, jovial sounding voice. One that most certainly couldn't have come from her boy, and one that was most definitely not Bessie either.
Raising her head up, tears staining her reddened cheeks, the now single mother locked her eyes on to the source of it. And despite all the grief she felt at the moment, she couldn't help but widen her eyes in shock at the figure that stood in front of the doorway to the room.
The figure that stood before her was by no means human. He, if one could call the creature that, resembled a grotesque caricature of what a gentleman from one of the bigger cities looked like. Standing above seven feet tall, 'he' easily towered over everything around him, and looked like he barely even fit in the room to begin with, what with his cartoonishly rotund body that swelled out around his waist like some kind of balloon. An umbrella held in one hand and propped on to his shoulder with what looked to be a pumpkin head near the top.
His attire itself mainly, had she been paying proper attention to it, she might have recognised as being identical to the one worn by the strange man who'd been in the graveyard earlier.
It was the creature's face she found herself zoning in on with a hint of fear. What with its grey skin and pointy ears that gave 'him' a goblin-like appearance. The most noticeable trait immediately however, was his large, rectangular-shaped mouth that stretched a good ten inches from top to bottom, and was set in what looked to be a perpetual, toothy grin. A pair of beady, playful looking golden eyes she could just about make out through the small pair of round-rimmed glasses he wore over the ridge of nose.
To say his full appearance was otherworldly would be putting it mildly. She'd even go so far as to say he looked downright demonic.
"Oh, so sorry about that miss Lyra. Guess I startled you there~." He apologised in a polite tone, going so far as to give a light bow, which completely clashed with his unsavoury appearance.
"Y-you know my name…?" Lyra muttered in trepidation, but also confusion at the being's oddly friendly demeanour.
"But of course!" the being replied happily, it's grin ever-present and unchanging. Then again, with a jaw that freakishly elongated, she doubted it was even possible for it to move at all. Heck, when 'he' spoke, his mouth didn't even move… "Oh, but where are my manners? My name is the Millennium Earl, and it's a pleasure to meet you~."
"O-okay?" She stuttered in a mix of awe and distress. Taken off guard once again by the goblin-looking being's politeness, and what appeared to be care-free attitude.
"No need to be scared dear. I'm only here because I was made aware of your plight and wanted to offer my assistance~." The Earl revealed, his glasses glinting ominously beneath his decorated top hat. Obscuring from her vision the way his eyes hovered over her and to her son for the briefest instant.
"A-assistance…?" She blinked, not sure what he meant by that. "W-what do you mean…?"
"Isn't it obvious? I'm here to help you get your husband back from that detestable God of yours~!" The Millennium Earl proclaimed with a jolly air that felt so jarringly out of place once again with his demonic visage, as he pointed the tip of his umbrella over to the other side of the room, where a purple light shone behind the woman. Enough so that she turned towards the source of the light as it receded and let out a gasp at what she saw.
A mid-night black skeleton now stood before her out of nowhere, held up by a contraption that kept it from just falling to the floor in a cluttered heap. "If you want your husband back, all you'll have to do, is call his name with all your might, and his soul will come rushing right back~!"
"Y-you're serious…? I… I can really have him back…? Just like that…?" She all but whispered in shock and awe, her grief and depression blinding her from all the warning signs that should've popped up, as a glimmer of hope entered her eyes, that perhaps whatever this being was, it was telling her the truth.
"That's right, my dear! As I said, all you have to do, is call out his name as loudly as you can, and he'll be right back in your arms in no time~!"
In that moment, Lyra's growing hope for her husband's possible return to her and their child won out over any sort of rational sense she may have had. And in just one word, she unknowingly sealed her own fate.
"James!" She cried out at the top of her lungs, with all the power she could muster behind it, and as if coming from the very heavens themselves, a shining ball of purple energy shot down from the ceiling and slammed down into the skeleton, giving it a faint, dark purple glow.
When that glow disappeared, Lyra held her breath for a second, as the skeleton began to stir. The star that was emblazoned on its forehead having letters quickly scrawling themselves out below it from thin air, spelling out the name of her beloved.
The skeleton's head moved up, and a voice that was oh-so-familiar came out of its bony maw. "L-Lyra…?"
Said woman almost felt like collapsing to her knees in crushing relief, the despair that had been wrapped over her heart waning as she heard her darling husband's gravely voice again. Tears of joy beginning to well up in her eyes this time as she stepped forward. "Yes honey, its me…" Her arms were wrapped around the skeleton before she knew it, embracing it wholeheartedly as though he was as he had been. Ignoring that he was still but a skeleton without flesh. "You're back… I'm so glad…"
"What have you done…" He whispered in abject despair, which caught her off-guard. "Y-you turned me into an Akuma!" He suddenly shouted, frightening her as his despair filled voice bellowed out with palpable rage.
"I-I what…?" She muttered with wide eyes, her body freezing up at the sheer venom in her lover's tone. Not understanding the ramifications of what she'd truly just done.
"Heh!" The Millennium Earl let out a light, but sinister chuckle, as he once again pointed his umbrella forward at the now named Akuma with manic glee. "Now then, my precious Akuma, I order you to kill this woman and wear her skin as your own~!"
"H-huh…?" All Lyra could do was look aghast at such a statement, disbelief and horror etching on to her face as she saw the skeleton raising its arms up, and in place of hands were razor-sharp bones poised to strike. "J-James…?"
A gargled scream permeated around the small, quaint room like a ghostly, unintelligible wail, blood spraying out and splattering over the woman's dress, the floor, and the sheets of the bed that Hit was rolled up in, as the dagger-like arms stabbed down into her neck the very next second. All the woman could do, was stare up in shock, unable to comprehend her ghastly fate, as the life quickly drained out of her eyes, whilst her blood pooled down her body from her punctured neck.
The woman dropped to the floor like a sack of potatoes with a wet thud! The Earl watched with satisfaction as his creation all but butchered up her body from there in a gory display, tearing through her dress and through her flesh like a hot knife through butter. Splattering even more of her red fluid around the room. Seeing it had opened up enough room inside, It brought its sleek, dark form forward, melding itself into the woman's own skeleton, which was visible by this point through the torn-up flesh and becoming one with its new host body.
The flesh quickly closed back up then once this process was done, a purplish hue emanating from the dead body, even the holes and tears made in the dress were swiftly fixed up, leaving behind little proof that such a horrendous, gory display had even taken place. All with the exception of the blood that stained all over the dress and neck of the woman, along with the room itself as well.
A dark purple star formed over the forehead of the body, which began to stir in a mechanical manner. The body slowly, and robotically rising to its feet. Red eyes that once held a vibrant life to them now sucked dry and left duller than a rotten pair of apples. Face completely devoid of emotion for the moment, the new Akuma bowed to its master solemnly. Taking a knee before him like any loyal soldier would. "Lord Millennium." It greeted with the utmost respect, sounding just like its host, but without any of the personality.
"At ease." Its master dismissed casually, and with a wave of his umbrella, the new Akuma vanished from the room in a haze of darkness, to be used at his leisure whenever he saw fit. "Well, now that that's settled…" His eyes then floated down back to the only other resident of the room, and if possible, his impossibly wide grin grew seeing the boy writhe in agony under the sheets.
Strolling closer, the Earl gently kneeled down next to the shaking boy, and found his eyes lighting up in a mixture of joy and anticipation, replacing his previous manic glee as he looked over him. Blood dripping off the sheets of the bed still from when that woman had been killed, but he focused more particularly on the blood that pooled around the child's head, which had most certainly not come from his latest creation.
Allowing his umbrella to float out of his hand as if it had a mind of its own, the Earl felt a wave of nostalgia and genuine happiness he hadn't felt in a long time surface, as he steadily picked the youth off his bed with extra care, delicately holding him bridal style against his chest. "There, there… you're in safe hands now." The Millennium Earl whispered to the quivering mess in his arms, as blood dripped down on to his coat, gently and lovingly embracing him in his arms like a loving parent or older sibling. Tears practically pouring out of his eyes from how happy he was. "It's finally time for you to come home."
Turning on his heel with a spring to his step but being sure to keep the small boy safely tucked into his arms, the elated Earl looked towards the door as space seemed to shift around it. The regular door to the boy's room being slowly replaced by a heart-shaped set of double doors, one coloured red, the other black.
The doors pulled open on their own, as if to invite the Earl and child in with open arms.
Before making his way in, the Earl paused and glanced down at the shivering boy in his arms, holding his head in both hands like his life depended on it. His golden pools reflected the child in them, as did his glasses, showing the cross shaped scar that had ripped its way out of the centre of the kid's forehead, bleeding profusely as it pulsed angrily in agitation. A sight that only made him even giddier by the second.
It had begun.
AND CUT!
Well… that's certainly a way for things to go.
I don't have much else to say to you all right now, other than I hope you had a good read, and look forward to the next chapter, which will come out in August. There's some interesting stuff ahead, that's for sure!
I'll see you all then!
