A/N: Life sucks. Work sucks even more. That is all. I'm getting back into the groove of things so hopefully this nice little "overcoming writer's block" continues on until it becomes "has no writer's block." Yay for no writer's block! Also, I do apologize if the writing is a little bit shitty for this chapter. I tried and I tried to make it better but apparently this is the best it's going to get as of now. If I can make the chapter better I'll update it and let everyone know but I've been hanging onto it for too long now so I give it to you so the story may continue on.
P.S.: I would like readers to remember at certain parts during this chapter that this Maka is vastly less mature than canon Maka. She'll grow into it, but her reactions, I felt, for most of this chapter were at least somewhat realistic for a person who did not grow up in a "fight the good fight" world like canon Maka did.
Enjoy the slight unveiling of Death City and get ready for more!
Disclaimer: I have nor will ever own Soul Eater, thriller/slasher movies, Mario, Versace, or Supernatural (though I do love me some Sam and Dean and Cas).
-Episode 04-
You've Never Truly Had A Headache Until You've Met Soul Eodred Evans
Growing up, Maka Albarn always dreamed of one day waking up and finding out that there was more to life than everything she'd ever known. That was what she used to wish for whenever the rare shooting star blazed across the sky.
Maybe she secretly had magic powers or maybe a nice supernatural boy would drop out of the clear blue sky and sweep her off her feet (though that particular dream faded around the age of fifteen when she realized love didn't exactly exist like it did in books and movies and music). Maybe tomorrow morning the zombie apocalypse would break out and Maka would be the cure or bond with the virus or, at the very least, show off her kick ass moves.
Although, as the saying goes, one should be careful what they wish for.
Because...she was finally getting her biggest wish—things were not at all what they seemed…except it wasn't happening quite how she imagined it would. She woke up that morning thinking that serial killers were actual people and instead found out that apparently some of them could morph into fucking lizard men.
And instead of being the awesome, bitchin' heroine…she was going to be the necessary, stereotypical female victim in thriller or slasher movies that one saw running down deserted alleyways until she reached a dead end and turned around and screamed and—
Shit!
"Don't think like that, Maka! Don't you dare think that! Run, bitch! Run!" She muttered to herself, voice raspy and stuttering. Her breaths were coming out in spastic, short wheezes that made the back of her throat ache and her legs felt like a newborn colt's, all wobbly and wonky and just about to collapse. But despite her waning physical form…
She heard what sounded like metal glancing off of stone and a deep-throated growl too close for comfort behind her and (oh! Would you look at that!) she somehow managed to push her legs to stretch farther, go faster.
Left. Right. Left. Left.
Damn it!
The young, frightened blonde had absolutely no clue where she was. She pivoted on a foot and flicked her gaze to the left and the right, unsure of which way to turn next. The warehouse district was a maze of gray walls and more gray walls and the glow of the sun was sinking away, granules of light slipping through her fingers like sand. So far she hadn't caught sign of any street lights and the warehouse alleys had tiny, pathetic lamps every other corner that gave off about the same amount of light as a baby freaking firefly. The last thing she needed was to be stumbling around in the dark with that nightmare behind her and nowhere else to go.
The horrid stench crept up around her again, her eyes watering from the foulness, and it reminded her that there weren't enough seconds to figure things out. She was forced into one of those split-moment decision-making situations that meant she had to follow her instincts with a slight plan in mind and the fragile hope of not being led astray lest she risk death via overanalyzing and hysteria.
Her left ear started ringing, a dull, annoying high pitched tone that made her want to rip it off and throw it to the side (maybe it would distract the beast pursuing her?), but, despite its overwhelming distraction, it made her feel somewhat…better. Its continuous sound helped drown out some of the creature's hideous screams for her blood and, for whatever reason, calmed her frantic mind.
Until she noticed the slate gray wall looming up before her, windowless and dismal. Her heart quickened as she silently prayed for anything-but-a-dead-end to whomever or whatever was listening. The blonde was answered with two small, somewhat darker alleys branching off to the left and right of the wall. The one to her right looked slightly lightened, a single lamp hanging maybe ten feet down while the left led off into nothing but the night's blackness.
For reasons she could not explain, Maka Albarn took a hard left.
Distantly, underneath the eeeeee in one ear and her panting breath echoing in the other, she heard the monster slam into the cold gray concrete of the wall with a screech of seventy-percent anger and, if she was lucky, thirty-percent anguish. The squeal of knives being sharpened incorrectly surrounded her, the sound bouncing off the enclosing walls, but it was scrambled and disjointed. As if her pursuer was having trouble getting up and continuing the chase. Perhaps it had hit harder than she thought?
The corner of her lips quirked upwards, something that surprised her more than her plunge into the darker alleyway. Smiling wasn't exactly your typical reaction in a situation like this, but who the fuck cared? Whatever had happened was a tiny victory and a tinier advantage, and at this point she'd take what she could get.
Soon enough (in fact sooner than she would have liked), the darkness swallowed her, making her feel as though she was wandering down the gullet of some huge beast. Not that she needed to meet another one; a single serial killing monster was one more than she ever wanted in the world. And though instinct screamed for her to turn around and go back towards the little bit of light she left behind, she pushed herself onwards, her trembling legs faltering every now and then but moving still. The alley seemed to stretch on forever leading her to laughingly think, for a millisecond, that she was dead and in some purgatory. Forced to run and keep running from whatever demons wanted to catch her.
Then Maka's ankle momentarily got caught in a hole in the ground causing her to fall and scrape pretty much all of the skin on her right knee and the dream state was gone.
She was Maka, a seventeen year old senior in high school with divorced parents, a haunted house, and a half-lizard, half-serial killer following her down Death City's warehouse district.
She swore out loud, not exactly to anyone or anything in particular, but to the air and the night and the cackling crescent moon in the sky.
She was going to make it home…Or so she thought.
Because the next instance had her running once again through the obnoxious cousin of Mario's Never-Ending Staircase, the Never-Ending Alleyway, until, not two seconds later, a somehow darker shape than her surroundings appeared out of the gloom in front of her. Maka tried to stop, tried to go around what was an alarmingly humanoid object, but the street was too tight and the message to her feet was delayed due to her fatigued and frightened brain.
So the blonde ran right into someone's arms.
Adrenaline, white-hot and painful, shot through her frayed, exhausted nerves. She screamed, albeit pitifully and quietly (she really should've taken a breath first), only to be cut off by a large, cold hand. Maka jerked her bony elbows and flayed her knobby knees and squirmed as much as she could (being stick thin had to count for something!) but her captor barely grunted. He simply rearranged his arm positions and jabbed his elbow into the gap between her collarbone, shoulder, and neck.
Maka sank to the ground with a wordless, silent cry and was dropped like a sack of potatoes. The tears were flowing now, freely and bitterly. She had given it her all, had made it farther than others had obviously, yet she had lost. He caught her.
He was going to kill her. Fuck he was going to eat her! Maybe fucking alive!
Oh god. Oh god, oh god. Please no. Not like this.
But Maka had to give herself some credit. Even though she was scared, terrified, and shaking, she managed to raise her head up to face the deliverer of her demise.
I will stare at him and hate him and I will not scream. I won't.
She had just opened her mouth to cuss him till her last breath when a single shaft of moonlight pierced the black, a silvery light illuminating her silvery killer.
There was white hair, drenched an incandescent silver-gray color by the thick shadows around them, broad shoulders and a lean torso clothed in a pin-striped suit, and those eyes Maka promised herself she wouldn't see again…those glowing red eyes…
Her open mouth went slack-jawed, eyes larger than flying saucers.
"What the f-?!"
Her question was cut off by a hideous odor and vicious shriek of victory. The hunter finally in the midst of its quarry. Took it long enough.
Somehow, Maka felt her bravado returning, slowly but surely. She couldn't help but think for a serial killer the lizard-man wasn't very good at it. She had gotten away and probably would've continued to get away if not for her so-called hallucination.
The boy-that-shouldn't-be-here-because-he-didn't-exist raised a finger in a shushing motion as he crept from the small niche in the alley he had hurriedly pulled her into. Maka's reply was a simple roll of her eyes. Yes, remind her to be quiet because otherwise she was going to gleefully announce her presence to the thing that wanted to gut her. She snorted and was chastised with a furious red glower to which she responded to with an even more furious glare and sticking out her tongue. He ignored that and slinked towards the central alley in an odd, partially crouched position, right hand stretched out in the dark as though reaching out for something.
The beast's razor claws scraped and squealed with each approaching step and the hunched girl could tell the thing was much too close for comfort. It snuffled, loudly and wetly, and hissed every now and then. Hairs rose up behind her neck and goose flesh prickled her arms and legs.
It was tasting the wind for her. As a snake might flicker its tongue to search for a mouse.
She peered nervously at her creation squatting still as stone, a Greek statue in a Versace suit, waiting. For what she had no clue.
And then it was in view; Maka could see the sickly misshapen shoulders and legs colored a viscous, poisonous green, the same color as flesh beginning to rot, whilst clawed "hands" dragged thick yellow blades across the warehouse walls. She could make out the black holes up top that marked where its dark eyes sucked in whatever light was in the air and watched with a distant, practically third-party intrigue as they turned to face her.
It grinned…sort of. The disjointed jaws split and raised up on one side, crooked teeth visible, while its too long tongue lashed back and forth crazily on the other. In fact, it was so enraptured by finding her, so intent on making her last moments the most terrifying of her life that it completely missed the other person in her alcove.
Her eyes were distracted from her impending doom by a sudden motion and flickered to the bent person as his right outstretched hand curled into a fist. Fast, almost faster than her eyes could follow, he drew some…thing from the shadows and slashed upwards with it, pushing through flesh and gore and a type of crackling shell, until the monster was split neatly in two.
She wondered for a minute why he would do that; why on Earth anyone would be stupid enough to half their one enemy into two when the sides fell to the ground in sizzling piles of what smelled like straight up shit and it dawned on her.
He killed it.
Her…imagination…killed…the thing…and…
Maka started choking or so she thought at first. Reality was she was laughing, cracking up with a manic passion. Red Eyes twirled the gleaming black scythe that he pulled out of fucking shadows in a quick circle to dislodge fluid and meat chunks alike before brandishing it on his shoulder and glancing down at her agitatedly. He took a step toward her, eyes flashing this way and that, when her lips started moving and high-pitched words fluttered out.
"Oh my God. Oh my God." She chuckled as more tears flowed down her dirty cheeks. "I'm insane. I really am. I actually went crazy. I am fucking cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs. Oh shit, I am beyond help. The loony bin. I'm going to the fucking nut house. Holy shit and fucking cuckoo's nest. I'm crazy. I'm crazy. I'm-"
"Will you shut the fuck UP!" He whispered as he violently clapped his hands over her shivering lips. "There could be more around, stupid! So if you could, I'll say again, Shut. The. Fuck. UP. that would be great."
Her wounded pride snapped her mind out of its hysteria haze and before she could even think it, her tiny hands were slapping his away.
"…Excuse me?" The angered blonde spoke slowly and dangerously, her eyes glaring so fiercely she was sure she would burn holes through him. His tried to meet her gaze head on, but she knew she was winning when they flashed at the ground and to the side momentarily.
Points to him, though. He attempted to gain control despite her I'm-imagining-you-dead-right-now stare.
"Yeah. You, uh, you heard me." His scythe slid noiselessly and gracefully off his shoulder as he brought the obsidian blade inches before her nose. "This time you're gonna be the one bitch-slapped with a book if you don't pipe down. Got it?"
Well…it was kinda hard to argue with someone who held her at scythe-point. Maka scrunched her nose up in distaste, whether from her embarrassment and defiance or from the strange, chemical-cold smell wafting off the blade she didn't know, but she nodded her head in begrudging agreement anyways.
The teenage-boy-who-couldn't-be-real-but-was seemed genuinely surprised at her swift compliance, even going so far as to raise an eyebrow suspiciously.
"Mmhmm." Their gazes fixed onto their opposite's for a while, each striving to read the other's intentions with probing stares. The intense lockdown and silence was shattered when one of the piles of ooze and other unmentionables began spluttering with gas bubbles. The scythe-wielder flinched at the interruption and blinked hurriedly as if remembering what he was doing. He strode toward the waste piles and, to the on looking female's eternal disgust, stuck a hand in one, digging around for something or other. She knew by his relieved expression that he found whatever-the-hell-it-was and she watched curiously (and fearfully) as he tugged it out of the decay with a pop.
She was assaulted with an unexpected explosion of light. Searing orange and red flames, so bright, too bright, clawed at her retinas and for a frightening moment Maka feared she would go blind. She shielded her stinging eyes with both hands yet somehow the brightness didn't dim. She could feel them tearing up again and was furiously beating down what would be the third and unforgivable instance of her crying when it disappeared.
The night was dark once more and the scent of death, burnt meat, and vomit was all but gone, the odor quickly becoming no more than a memory. When the tired teenager finally found the courage to open her eyes she saw no hint of the monster the boy had demolished or the scythe he had pulled from the overhanging shadows.
In fact…he looked somewhat…normal. No suit, no scythe, and…were those cargo pants?
"You're wearing cargo pants?" Some thoughts she honestly couldn't keep to herself.
He glanced down as if to confirm her completely obvious statement and then nonchalantly shrugged.
"Yeah, what of it?"
And that was how her first full conversation with Soul Eodred Evans began.
"…Are you absolutely sure you're not crazy? Or I'm not crazy? I mean, this is a pretty big gravy boat of crazy you're trying to make me swallow. And it's just that…what else is there to say about it? It is amazingly insane what you've told me. Amazingly insane."
Maka peered sideways at her illusi-at Soul Evans. She met his painfully real red eyes with a hopeful expression, practically begging him to give an excuse for what he had told her whether it be that she was mentally unstable or he was. She couldn't help carry the dream that this might still be nothing. That her world might remain pretty much the same.
His grimace was all the answer she would need…but it was the answer she really hadn't wanted.
Both sighed, almost as if on cue, and exchanged startled expressions. The blonde giggled nervously, but her euphoria faded away as quick as it had come. She blinked up at the stars and the crescent moon that shared their sky, which actually was cackling now that her eyes were open and aware enough to see it. In fact, it seemed her whole perception of everything had changed and everywhere she looked, in every direction, were long, dark shadows that hid benevolent and malevolent things alike.
She took a deep breath, enjoyed the cool, dry air that settled over Death City after the sun set and relished the way it felt inside her lungs. She held it there, thinking, before making a decision and releasing it.
"So."
Soul appraised her carefully, scorching irises searching her face for the tiniest detail of what she was thinking, before repeating after her in monotone.
"So?"
"So…you're not a ghost. You're a…type of spirit?" She could tell by the way his shoulders caved inwards that if this most basic thing was her first question it was going to be a tedious walk back to Gallows Mansion.
"Not necessarily a spirit, but, uh, yeah you get the point. It's the easiest explanation for now."
"And a spirit isn't a ghost, which means…you're sure you're not a ghost?" He huffed with impatience and met her inquisitive look with a sullen pout.
"No. How many freaking times do I have to tell you that?" Maka raised a hand placidly with a pointed look.
"Hey now! Cool your jets. Pardon me if I'm not up to date on the whole spirit-slash-ghost lore and am not completely sure of the difference, alright? It's been a while since I've watched Supernatural." He stopped mid step and turned to face her, face aghast.
"Supernatural?" It was honestly a little funny how horrified he looked. "Super-freaking-natural? Is that what you think this is? That's a fucking TV show that barely gets anything right!" Soul shook his head from side to side in frustration, pieces of glittering silver hair flying in disarray. He gestured angrily at himself. "Do I look like Sam or Dean to you? Or like Castiel the angel?"
Maka chuckled lightly. "Nope."
"Exactly." He murmured the word with an excited conviction, head bobbing in agreement. It wasn't until he saw his companion's smug face that he belatedly realized her insult.
"Hey…"
"Anyways," She jumped into her next question quickly, firstly to effectively shut him up and secondly because she had a million and one of them to be answered. Now that Maka was accepting this idea of a…"Dark World" around her she desired to do what she always did with new subjects…learn. "You're a spirit-like thing, but not an actual ghost or an actual spirit, which are somehow different things, and so is the, uh, blue-haired guy that tried to kill me with my house's chandelier and uh-" He was shaking his head before she could even finish her actual question.
"No, no. Black Star is a wraith, which, before you ask, is different than a spirit or a ghost." The blonde growled in annoyance.
"Okay then, what the fuck is a wraith and what the hell is a ghost and a fucking spirit?"
"Listen, a spirit is sort of like the embodiment of a person's soul. They stay on a spiritual plane typically, like, you know, the place all dead people are and whatnot. Ghosts, though, are the exception to that. They are spirits who have escaped the spiritual plane and are back amongst the living. And wraiths…are things you don't need to know about right now."He quieted her expected protests with the promise of not answering any of her questions at all. "Hear what I'm willing to share or don't hear nothing at all."
It was her turn to pout. "That's not a grammatically correct statement."
"You get my meaning, blondie."
"Whatever. So Black Star…" What the hell kind of name was Black Star? "Is a wraith and you're not a ghost nor a spirit but sort of a spirit? And Tsubaki and Liz are…?"
"Also not relevant at this moment. For now, let's just say they're humans who know about the Dark World same as you." She halted her assault of twenty questions to glower distrustfully at him.
"Mmhmm…and that monster was a…pre-key…prekishin? Which is, for my simple understanding, a demon?" Soul tugged impatiently at his bottom lip, obviously unhappy with this area of explanation.
"Um…basically. They're bad news. Keep away from them is all you really need to know." The girl beside him folded her arms and directed her eyes heatedly to the ground. If smoke could pour out of people's ears, it'd be billowing out hers right now.
"This need-to-know bullshit is seriously starting to get on my nerves. Can you please spare me the crap and, I don't know, actually explain stuff to me?"
"Let's get something straight, pigtails, anything I keep from you is for your own good." She bristled, from both his decided nickname for her and his withholding information. "If I were to just blab my fucking mouth and spill everything I knew about the Dark World two things would happen. One," He held up his pointer finger and shoved it in between her eyes. "you would die. Pretty soon I might add. And dos, I would probably die. So how's about neither of us die by me telling you only the 'need-to-know bullshit,' hmm?"
His total arrogance and sudden disrespect of her caught the young scholar off guard. How dare he treat her this way! And how dare he keep her in the dark! She had the right to know.
"I have a right to know! You dragged me into this by coming to my house, and don't you even say it was your house first! You're, for all intents and purposes, dead already! And now I'm getting attacked by bloodthirsty demon-monsters and-" Before she could blink, Soul whirled around, sharp teeth bared and gleaming white.
"I dragged you into this? No way. No fucking way you think that! Blondie. Oh, pigtails." He laughed darkly, eyes blazing with a twisted glee. "We tried. You have no idea how hard we tried to get you and your pops out of that house. That house…It's pretty much cursed, okay? And so everything you and dear old daddy experienced, and I do mean everything was me and Black Star trying to protect you guys. We wanted to chase you out, but…you wouldn't leave! You wouldn't fucking leave. And then you started doing stuff and-" Soul jerked backwards, mouth clamping shut with a snap, as though he feared he'd said too much. He used both hands to grab and tug at his white roots and Maka was shocked to find how much his exhausted features mirrored the tiredness she felt inside.
"Cursed? And you…that was you? The noises…and the doors…and, wait…were you behind the heating going AWOL in my room?"
Finally, some of his tension dissipated. He gave her that sharp-toothed grin of his, lecherous and unforgiving.
"Yeah…nice panties by the way."
"SOUL!" She shrieked. The fatigued teenager threw an elbow at his ribs and smirked when he yelped from the pain.
"Oww…"
He massaged the tender spot gingerly, but otherwise seemed okay. It was then that Maka thought about the fact that he had risked his life for her. He had done it at his own disposal and danger as well; whatever he was he still felt pain and, if his words were to be believed, could die, too. Yet he saved her.
And she didn't have the courtesy to so much as thank him. She blushed with chagrin and grew anxious once she noticed where they were.
Gallows Mansion rose like a dark harbinger in the night, a huge building with storm gray bricks, black-woodened paneling, and brown-gold accents. With the maniacal moon dripping blood through its splintered teeth casting eerie light and creepy shadows down on it, Maka could truly believe the place was cursed. She wondered once more what secrets it held and whether she would find out. Half of her wished she would while the other went back to the alleyway that continued on with the creature that shed skin like a candle sheds wax and whose black eyes had been so delighted, so pleased, to have her trapped so it could killed her…and thought maybe it was best she went on not knowing.
On the porch, once they were safe under the house's lamp light, Maka grabbed one of Soul's hands. His lips parted, but this time waited for her. Her thanks to him was pitiful, weak and whispered, though she was proud she said it nonetheless. He was caught off guard, which was good because that gave Maka enough seconds to fiddle with the key and enter her home without him awkwardly replying.
And then she had a heart attack.
Blue. Suddenly in her face. A specific, familiar teal-blue.
"AAH!"
WHAM
It wasn't until he was out of her vision and at her feet that Maka realized she had just chopped Black Star to oblivion.
"Black Star!"
Soul scrambled in at Maka's yell and his eyes widened upon finding his friend on the ground and his other friend present.
"Tsubaki? What are you doing here?"
Sure enough, the black-haired beauty was carefully lifting Black Star off to the side and onto a chair. She smiled sheepishly at Maka and Soul's awed faces.
"Eh. Well you know how he gets Soul-kun when he's alone. My apologies, Maka, we did not mean to intrude upon your home, we just came to keep him out of trouble."
Soul groaned. "Oh, god, you said we."
Distantly, from the kitchen most likely, Maka heard an extremely well-known voice call out, "AND LIZ WINS THE POT! HAH! I KNEW SHE'D KNOCK HIM OUT!"
The blonde rubbed at her eyes, hoping to clear up whatever the fuck was going on, but when she opened them there they still were.
Tsubaki. Liz. Black Star. And…Soul.
Who was staring at her incredulously.
"What?"
He pointed fearfully at the book gripped tight in her right hand.
"Where the fuck did you even get that?"
Maka had a bad feeling her resulting headache would never go away.
End: As I said before...sorry about the poor writing. It's something, even though it is not at the caliber I like my posted things to be. I'm hoping to come back and make it better for you guys. Still, hope you liked the beginnings of the unwinding of my so-called plot and universe. Ta-ta for now!
Replies:
Personal Wonderland: I'm so glad you love it and I hope you love the "more" I've provided! It shall continue I swear!
SymmetricalGirl8DeaththeKid: Sorry you had to wait so long for your update but I hope it held up and that you thought it was good. I thank you so much for your review and I hope I continue to deliver good stuff to you!
Love you all!
-Bright
NEXT TIME ON WE ARE THE DEAD:
-Episode 05-
In Case You Were Wondering Gods Don't Have Toothbrushes and Ghostbusters Don't Get Paid