Tonight differed from the ones before. The stars and moon concealed themselves in navy skies. Overall, Tokyo stood still. Only several lampposts shined visible pathways down neighboring streets. This night, of all nights, was exceptionally unique. Underneath this slumbering city lied an abysmal well-kept secret. A night, such as this, truly made Tsunenaga Tamaki feel alive. He sighed softly while thumbing through old chat-logs. Nostalgic waves washed over him when he caught himself reminiscing about his old companion. Back then he played a different sort of game. Drawing his chair closer and leaning forward as he read one of the last few lines terminating their friendship; a costly mistake. Eyelids descended as he recalled the trial of his Juju and her premature sentencing. For once, she accepted the hand she was dealt. Now she was within his grasp. Tonight would be the perfect night for her to participate in a Carnival Corpse. In spite of recent events he bestowed upon her, and a few others, a superb gift. This gift came with a multitude of strings attached, and at a very high fee.
This was the first time the promoter selected a handful of Deadmen to participate in a Carnival Corpse. All of his selections were escorted to a bland waiting area, a hollowed out chamber with decaying tan paint on the walls, as staff members prepared the stage for their performance.
Recent events proved to be staggering evidence that the inmates were not content with their current setup; several guards, clad in dark outfits with visors to hide their identities, remained present with the contenders as a precaution. Even an earlier incident that occurred in the laboratory could not deter the promoter's desire to orchestrate this colorful game. After all, viewing from the safety of his office was a pastime.
A hulking man plodded in the room, clad in a similar outfit as the other guards with the exception of a visor and several stripes decorating his colossal stature. Immediately, he gestured for one of his subordinates to advance toward him and deliver a brief report of any strange behavior from the contestants. One scrawny guard crossed over to him and saluted his superior before giving his report. Despite the room's cramped size, the inmates did not hear much of the conversation. All of their names were mentioned, but anything trailing afterwards was masked underneath hush tones. The scrawny fellow saluted once more then turned on the heels of his boots and crossed over to the opposite side of his superior.
"I wonder what that was about," A youthful raven haired female, who wore a rosy pantsuit with a purple outer layer, muttered. She crossed over to a scrawny boy with messy hair and gave him a light nudge.
"Uh…" he paused briefly, "hey." Ganta seemed relatively distracted. His gaze shifted over to the well-toned woman with disheveled shoulder length hair, the other side of her head remained shaved, and then returned his attention to the girl before him.
Minatsuki peered in the general direction of where the youth distributed a portion of his attention. She then folded her arms over her chest before blurting out, "Oh, she's out so soon. I heard Ivan and his goons broke her arm. Didn't she have amnesia or something after the last Corpse?"
"Something like that," he responded.
Intently, her eyes skimmed over the woman's form and quickly noticed the lack of bruising from the Carnival Corpse she participated in many days ago, along with the odd absence of her newly acquired injuries from her run-in with Ivan's posse. Not to mention the abnormal hair growth in such a short period of time. At least, on the side that was not shaved.
"She was missing a little over a week," Ganta began. "Off and on I spoke to Ally. We heard nothing about her for seven days…and then she showed up and seemed more unlike herself."
"After the whole introduction of Forgeries she makes an entrance?" Minatsuki's instincts told her that Jurai's participation in tonight's Carnival Corpse may not bode well.
Jurai saw him staring in her general direction for quite some time before averting his gaze. Details of their gawky introductions perfectly mended itself in her fractured psyche. Part of her yearned to inquire more about that night, but the freedom of doing so seemed nonexistent.
"Dude, why not talk to him?" Senji asked.
"I need to see something," she answered.
"Weren't you both damn well near friends…well, escape buddies?"
"So I've been told." A sigh escaped her lips as she pulled her hair back. A fine coat of sweat plastered on her bronze skin while she used an old Gadgets magazine to fan her visage.
Unexpectedly, Senji brusquely said, "You've been M.I.A for some days."
"About a week of purgatory," she interjected. "Do you remember the first time we met?"
"I'm not the one with amnesia," he joked. Promptly realizing how serious his female counterpart was then pushed aside his flippant behavior and nodded in response. "You were a bit banged up that day."
A smirk formed on her lips as she continued fanning herself before stating, "Pretty good too. They got the upper hand on me at first, but I made sure they regretted ever choosing me."
"I bet," he chortled. Senji turned himself so that he was fully facing Jurai. "How much do you remember?"
"Line up, ladies," one of the guards mocked.
Without warning, Jurai leaned startlingly close to Senji; his face became ten shades of red. The female's warm breath tickled his ear as she whispered, "More than they think," before passing by him.
"Any last requests," the guard added.
Jurai hastily said, "A bottle of water."
There was some laughter followed by a puzzled look as the guard scratched his head. She stood behind a young man with feathery light green hair. He glanced over his shoulder briefly, golden eyes transfixed on the woman who fanned herself. The corner of his lips twitched upwards as he turned his head.
"What about my bottle of water?" Jurai insisted.
One of the guards hastily blurted out, "Shut it!"
"Stay in line!" Another guard added as they shoved her along and snatched the magazine.
The arena was completely revamped. The stage's size was increased by tenfold. In the middle of the stage was a massive steel cage, and around that were tall slender trees with artificial grass mounted on top of the white tiles. Spotlights were sited in the main four corners of the room and shined brightly down on the newly renovated arena. Deadmen filed through a side opening and was instructed to enter the massive cage. Four of the guards entered the cage and continued preparations of tonight's exhibition. Forms of shackles were placed on all of the Deadmen's ankles and wrists, though some resisted because of the unexpected additions. Each and every individual glanced at their fellow combatant beside them, clasping manacles dangling from their restraints as if it were their sole lifeline. Once the guards were finished, they exited the cage and entered a code which locked it securely, then left the arena.
"How the hell are we supposed to fight chained together?" Ivan barked. He grabbed the bars of the cage and shook vigorously.
"Teamwork," a guard countered before cackling. "I don't know or care. Just here for the show."
Ivan banged against the side of the cage, jerking his fellow Deadmen connected to him.
"Knock it off!" Minatsuki screeched.
"Dammit," Senji chimed in.
"The hell, Ivan, chill!" Jurai said.
"It's all your fault!" Ivan roared as he grabbed the collar of Jurai's shirt and pushed her against the bars. "You bitch, why couldn't ya keep your psychopathic boy toy happy! Now you got all of us stuck in your bullshit!"
Senji managed to separate Ivan from Jurai without harming the other Deadmen. He took a stance in front of the young woman, forearm firmly planted against Ivan's neck as he pushed him in the opposite direction.
"Back off," he said.
"Oh, I see," Ivan began. "Didn't know ya love triangle was aired out in public. Guess you wanted it known that you're datin' one of your kind? Didn't want anyone to think ya getting special treatment or anything, huh?"
"Yeah…you would know all about special treatment, wouldn't you, Ivan?" Jurai countered.
"What did you say you fucking," he was cut off by Senji pressing harder against his neck. "Get the fuck off of me," he managed to say with a strangled voice.
"We can't be fighting each other mere minutes before the Carnival Corpse," Ganta added.
Silence loomed over the group. Besides Ivan's occasional gasp for air and coughing, not a soul had anything to say. Ganta glanced over towards the woman, who was recently accused. He shook his head, debunking the notion that she would sell herself short to such a despicable person. Though, he was aware that like many here, she had a past and was imperfect. That past intertwined her with a host of colorful characters and ultimately ended with her being sent here.
"I'm sorry," he began. "If anything this was my fault," he said apologetically.
Jurai turned her back to him and rested her forehead against the bars, "Don't…" she paused uncertain of what to say. "Don't worry about it, kid."
And don't die out there, she thought.