The earth had fallen silent and the sky had grown dark. Any creature that dared to move in the dark did so in terror and need and for no other purpose. The spirits of the winds had even returned from wence they came. The crickets silence their chirps and not even the sounds of human activities, cars, trains or just the commotion of families within their dwellings dared to break the silence and darkness that the earth had made itself into. Even the sun of the day had seemed dimmer, the stars of the night refusing to shine. The warmth was gone from the planets, dropping drastically, even catching the attention of the tv news broadcasters as it was called a "freak incident" among the mortals of the planets. Yet those that were in tune to the world of the supernatural, those that were dead or near death, those that could see, saw it for what it was.
The souls that had been never been put to rest, those of mortals from all locations on the planet, those lingering as guardians, those that were violent, murderers and their victims long since looking for revenge, those that were of children and mothers, far too innocent to know the fact that they had left the earth, those of widows lost in an eternal search, looking for their lovers that had died hundreds of years ago and would never return had gathered. Their were those of the earth, demons and creatures of the other worlds that could no longer take physical form, ancient beings that had been forgotten and made into fairytales of legends, only seen now in the ancient scrolls and plays of movies and tales made by those that found them fictional, looking for tales to scare their children into obedience. All souls had gathered in pockets, taking with them the energy of their region, the sun, warmth and light of their origin and causing chill spots, lowering the temperatures to record lows. The entire world had been thrown into an approaching second ice age. Yet the mortals had not seen
There were six "pockets" for lack of a better word. These pockets had been points in which these spirits had flocked to, circular points forming the shape of a 5 point pentagon, a single, yet largest pocket placed directly in the center, Kanagawa. The image of the glowing orbs, all surrounding areas of Kanagawa that Tatsumi had brought to the screen while looking for clues and leads to Hisoka's where about, spirits circling the perimeter, making a circle with a dimmer glow was still burned into Tsuzuki's mind as he walked through the city. He'd been out since he was able to sneak past Tatsumi, searching Kanagawa for Hisoka, Keitaro, Watari or Muraki. He'd seen that symbol that star before; he'd never forget it, never. The evil doctor had used it many times before, summoning to him the forced of the dark that would do his bidding. The center would bring him Muraki, with Muraki would come Hisoka, Keitaro and the head of the mad scientist that he had once dared to call friend. Pulling the trench coat more closely about himself he pressed on into the cold, empty and dark lonely night.
Blood dripped down to the floor to mix with the tears that stung his eyes and slipped from his thick lashes, sliding gently down his youthful cheeks. The wounds that had been given to him from days ago had long since been reopened, his bandages had been ripped and those that were still barely clinging to his body were soaked through with blood. His world was blurring, his head spinning. He would not hold much longer. He'd been loosing so much blood, he felt faint, his vision blurred, he would die here, raveged by a man he had long since learned to trust, someone he'd called friend, one he had come to love as family, having none of his own, all the while watching his son being killed in front of him. He would die, miserable, alone and a failure to his friends, to his son and to Tsuzuki.
His heart fell deep in his chest, fallen by grief. He lay with his head on the cold concrete, he could hear, every so often the drip drip of his blood and tears as they fell to the small puddle forming their under his head, the wound having opened on his forehead, running under his hair line, being agitated from where it had only begun to heal from earlier. He could hear his breath, hear Watari's breath blowing against his ear as the scientist worked at stripping him, having quite a hard time in his state, his body stiff yet forceful and strengthened beyond the limits of even the shinigami. Then came a wailing, a ghastly sound from all about him and a coldness ran up his spine, an unnatural chill, his senses were assaulted from all sides with images of horror, violence and death. There were bodies cut and gutted, sacrificed and left as testament to evils that were forbidden to even be spoken aloud. He found himself wracked with a new sense of pain, pain so horrible his body was sent into convulsions his breath catching in his throat and not allowing the precious air that he so desperately needed to enter his lungs. From in the distance he could hear his son scream and cry out in the same pain, feel his body twist and kick as his was doing now. The room was now filled with the same chill that had come by him, so that as his body once more allowed him to breath, once he could see through eyes that were still blurred, unfocused and pained, there was his breath turned to smoke that was quickly wisped over to Muraki. The room was aglow, filled with glowing orbs and wisps of energy that gathered all heat, all exertion, feeding from them. Spirits.
Abandoning the screaming child safely placed upon the large pedestal in the center of the room Muraki turned, striding over to the mother of said child with surprising calmness. "You see them then?" He asked, or rather said to himself. He was no expecting the boy to answer him; it was more to log it into his own mind. "The spirits that can not find peace, ones that will never rest and wander the earth eternally, feeding from the fear and energy of the living. These are the souls of murderers, rapists, their victims, caught in a hell they can not escape from, sacrifices, cut limb from limb and unable to except that they are dead, the damned that had taken their own lives in grief, punished by not being able to pass to the other world, doomed to wander the world that they had so desperately longed to leave. Their hatred, their anger and will is all that I will need to bring the apocalypse down upon the pathetic mortals that infest this earth. With them I will place myself into his body, I will plant a part of myself deep into his brain and he will be part of me, we will think the same, feel the same, be one. In the years to come he will become my own, I will shape him, mold him into what I wish to become and then, after years of destruction, years of chaos, I will become him, I will take his immortal body as mine completely. Expelling any remnants of his soul I will take his body, become a god and destroy all that you see." There was a mad glint in his eyes, one that frightened the youth down to his core. "I shall start the night with you, bringing first blood to a new age that shall be written in the blood of mortals and paved with death and destruction."
"No" It was a broken whisper, a plea that was guaranteed to fall on deaf ears. With age, Muraki had only grown crazier, more bold and daring. First it was only to achieve immortality for himself, then for the revival of his brother, now he seeked to destroy the entire world. He'd gone mad with power. Did he really think he was God?
Leaning further down, crouching down to his knees, Muraki curled his long white fingers into Hisoka's golden tossed tresses, pulling his head back. Their lips were met as Muraki instantly claimed dominance over the weakened shinigami, biting down upon his bottom lip to draw forth blood, licking and lapping at it with his tongue. "Thank you, my dear doll, for bringing me the worlds next savior." A smirk was played across his features, a deranged joy sparkling in his gray eyes. "Perhaps, before killing you, I will have another go at you myself. Do not fret, I will preserve your beauty as I did once before, after all, you are the mother of the next messiah." With a nod to the blonde the doctor stood once more, turning, with not another look at the boy, to the pedestal.
There he pricked his index finger of his right hand, causing blood to well upon the tip. Looking, seemingly in fascination, first at the blood which seeped from his own veins, then to the child, screaming, crying and chilled to the touch by the spirits that ghosted over his skin, taking what energy and heat they could from the infant. A smile upon his lips, the man began, tracing curving and crude seals of ancient worlds long since forgotten except by all those that searched for them, each bound with the power of his own blood, crimson and staining upon the baby's white canvas of skin. The spirits circled, taking the fiery, burning sting of the curse and freezing the blood near instantaneously to Keitaro's skin. A seal upon the Childs chest, above the heart, controlling of his emotions, another at the center of the boys abdomen, the pit of his powers, the source of all life energy, and another at his forehead, the brain, the center of all thought and logic, the control center of the body. All surrounded by seal, protective and minor to the three. He would have absolute control. Stripping of his white shirt, tie carelessly tossed aside, he place three corresponding seal to his chest, abdomen and forehead. Raising his hands into the air he spoke."Now my child, bathed in the blood moon we will become one." The child, that had just begun to settled was once again screaming, louder than he had been before as the spirits circled them, lighting the pentagram on the floor below the pedestal which was placed within the center.
Hisoka's body arched under Watari, the man still groping and feeling, fighting with his own clothes and the boys in his desire. His eyes flew open blinded by the white light that had begun to fill the room. He could feel Muraki invading, but not him, his son. He could feel Keitaro's distress, feel his resistance failing and feel Muraki taking him. He could hear in his mind, the cry and wails for help from his son, helpless to do anything. A wrenching pain constricted his heart, blocked his mind from any logic. All his pain and all his sorrow and helplessness was poured out into a wailing cry that shook the room, echoing off the walls and sounding through the halls out to the still night bathed in red.
Far off, lost in the night, Tsuzuki fell to his knees, his heart skipped and refused to beat for long moments and his blood ran cold through his veins. "Hisoka!" He could feel the boy again, and he was crying, screaming like he'd never heard him before, a cry of pure agony and suffering. But now he had something to go on, he had a direction to head and so he did, off to his right and far into the distance. "I'm coming Hisoka!"
I made Muraki super evil, no wimpy "I want immortality or to bring back Saki" NO! He's going for world domination and destruction people! He thinks big. I want reviews please let me know also, what you thought of the whole evil ceremony of Muraki and Keitaro.. I never wrote a scene like that before so Thanks, reviews! I'm going now I'm hungry.