HI! FIRST OFF; ZANE122.34 YOUVE LITERALLY MADE MY DAYS SO MUCH BETTER BLESS YOUR HEART!!!! THANK YOU FOR REVIEWING.!!
Also, again towards Zane122.34 and also BethxAngel, I'd like to thank you guys for following both my stories! It really means the world to me, and I'll also be publishing a Kuroko's Basketball fanfic, Fairytail fanfic and hopefully a Demon Slayer fanfic in the near future. Hopefully you two are here for that :)
From next chapter onward, since this is molding of my character, I won't be using terminology for the process of making glass. Instead, I'll be using types of glass, Carnival Glass, Plexiglass, Polycarbonate Glass, etc, and styles of glass, Frosted, Obscure, Textured. Please enjoy this story, review and feel free to point out any grammatical or spelling mistakes!
-Raven
Anneal; to prevent/remove unwanted stresses, creases or imperfections in rapidly cooling glass, terminology used in one of the final stages of glass being molded
Several months had passed since Samara Neizy's life exploded in flames. Since she lost her sanity, her brother, her innocence and killed for the first time. Some may think her liveliness had died with her brother, and the grief had overpowered her. Others may think that the blood loss and head trauma and messed her up big time, and, honestly, if those people were actually existed out of our theoretical assumption, they'd be right.
Of course, Samara acknowledges she's not okay, but it's not her fault. She was forced to be like this, and she doesn't want to change. Redemption is a right her ass, she couldn't afford to be moral. She couldn't afford to change, and it wasn't her responsibility, so that's that.
She's been getting along just fine by theft, causing distractions by exploding glass windows and vases, using the opportunity to snag as much as she wants/needs, the running. Recently, people are starting to catch on, so she'll change tactics for a while.
Really, she's doing okay- well... maybe not okay. But better than the first night. That night really opened her eyes to the truth of this world.
The truth that people didn't want to see. The one where people can do whatever they deem fit, and as long as they're not doing it to them, it's fine. She'd seen things. She'd seen men beating children, women and other men. She'd seen women slipping drugs into mens drinks. She'd even seen teenagers lighting a cat on fire. Thing is, these people have no repercussion, they have no consequences. The pass blame around like a bomb, waiting until the timer goes off on someone who can't disarm it.
Hell, she'd once held hope for heroes, until she'd seen one turn a blind eye at a dying child in favour of sprinting into the limelight to save some big shot who had been the target of the attack. Samara had pulled the child from the rubble, only to feel their heartbeat stop in her arms. From them, she'd taken every chance she could to send a spike through a heroes head.
Samara was sick of it. She wanted those people to know what they're doing, to have it done for them. She was going to fix this world, reforge it in a way that corrupt heroes could not. One life at a time.
People were starting to find a correlation with the murders around. They happened everyday, orphans killed in the streets, yet these ones are 'mOrE iMpOrTaNt' because it was some hero who couldn't save jack-all. Since people began to recognise the similar brutality to the murders, Samara had begun leaving talismans around the body.
Nothing fancy, just a way to subtly mess with the police. They wouldn't catch her, she was dead to them, and she didn't leave any evidence. Well aside from her little gift. The talismans were all the same, a little token Samara had takes pride in.
A little, jagged hummingbird, no bigger than a child's palm.
Due to this, Samara had gained slight traction in the streets, as "Jagged". She'd heard some eshay teens talking about her, describing her as a guy, how she must be a "freaking scary dude". That had made her laugh a little.
Despite this though, Samara had grown bored of of being "Jagged". She wasn't doing this to be recognised, nor bring attention to herself. She was doing this to bring those selfish bastards down a peg. She was left to die because of these people, and now they would suffer the same fate, she didn't care if it was by her hand.
She didn't remember how this all started very clearly, she only remembered her dear brother, whose name she was fairly certain started with K, and the first three men she had liberated of life. She felt a little guilty, her brother must have meant a lot to her, and thinking about who he might have been hurts her a lot, and it's honestly one of the only things she feels guilt for.
Really, the main thing she remembered was fire, burning pain and severe anguish. She never really thought about the night before she killed those men, as it hurt her in ways she couldn't understand.
Sometimes, she'd think about what her life could have been, what she might've had, and she thinks about how her future was so violently ripped away from her. Gods she was done with wallowing, but she couldn't really do much else while in hiding.
She had felt the depths of despair, she'd felt in the burning pain of her scars, and she'd seen it in the dark caverns that were her eyes. Hell, she'd heard it in the way she sobbed at night, as memories too vague to work out came to haunt her, to remind her of the past she'd never see again. Of the person she'd never see again.
But, nevertheless, she made a promise with herself. She swore that she'd remember her last, and build herself a future. She wanted a family, and she was going to get it.
She had to.
TIME SKIP; 9 MONTHS, 14 DAYS SINCE "JAGGED" DROPPED OFF THE MAP. 3 MONTHS AND 7 DAYS SINCE SHE TURNED FOURTEEN.
Samara sat atop a roof, the stars being the only light to illuminate her face. She wore new garments, ones she had taken fairly recently. She wore a viridian cropped top, it's sleeve going down to her wrists as the torso stopped just above her navel. Below it, from her hips down to her knees, was a black skirt, with scraped black leggings underneath.
Her hair had grown darker as she herself grew, and it was now a near black in the light, or lack thereof. Her face, despite her oddly put together appearance, held a light smirk, lips quirked upwards, as her blank eyes surveyed the streets below her.
Recently, she had broken into a motel of some sort, taken a shower for the first time in months, then she had skipped out and taken some clothes from some poor store, which was now also missing some black sneakers.
Her hands were relatively bare, aside from the glass-like ring adorning her right hand, on her middle finger. She fiddled with it, spinning it as her full eyes swept across the building across the one she herself was perched on.
Watching. Waiting.
Finally, after a few moments, a hooded man came up to the building, looking all around in a totally shady way, before he knocked on the ugly ass door out front.
The door slid open, and someone with the head of a wolf opened it, his yellow eyes shining in the flashing lights coming from inside.
They talked for a few moments, before Wolf stepped aside, and let Hoodie in. Samara's smirk grew, this time becoming that of a sly fox, watching her prey walk into her den.
She stood, glancing at the ledge and fall beneath her, as she took a step forward while turning. Her body pulsed, then she felt her ring unwind from around her, as well as the window on the floor below, and she placed her feet the platform it formed, extremely concentrated on reforming the glass every second as it cracked.
Already, a ache was starting to settle into her bones as she lowered herself and the constantly clinking platform beneath her to the ground. She honestly hadnt realised she had closed her eyes, until she felt the abrupt solid that was the ground.
Her eyes snapped open, and she gasped.
Oh my god Samara. Stop doing that and go down the stairs like a NORMAL GODDAMN PERSON! She mentally berated herself, silently promising to not do it unprepared like that again. However, it had the desired affect, and her blood was pumping now. She sent most of the window glass back to its position, thinning it out to account for the portion she kept for herself.
That'll be a bill to pay for the garbage thin glass, she thought absently, as she strolled over to the door. She stood just around the corner of the building, out of view from the door, as she sent the glass forward. She squinted to try (and fail) and lessen the strain on her eyes, as te glass came to the door.
Roughly, she brought it forward twice, making sure the thud was audible, before she punched to the other corner of the building. She resisted a hiss as the glass went outside her comfortable range, but kept at it nonetheless.
Wolf opened the door once more, this time sticking his head out to try and see who the hell just knocked. As he was about to close the door, he heard faint clicking, and then a shattering from the left side of the building. He raised a brow, before stepping out to see what it was.
With his back turned, and him walking the opposite direction, Samara took her chance, and slipped around the corner, and in through the door which was left wide open due to Wolf.
She stuck to the walls as she slinked in, wary of the people still in the lobby, although somehow they didn't notice her?
These are pretty sucky guards, honestly, she thought, as she neared another door in the darkened side of the room. This one merely had a curtain covering it, and a sign above it.
THE RING IS OPEN, BETTERS GO TO BAR AND FIGHTERS DOWNSTAIRS.
She smirked as she came in, finally coming out of the shadows and instead into a throng of people, all of which ignored her. She glanced into the area in the middle of the crowd, on that was surrounded by chain mail, and lowered slightly. There was dried blood on the ground within the ring, and shattered weapons tossed around.
She squeezed her way through the crowd, throwing a couple curse words around, until she finally reached a staircase, where the clinking of metal was easily heard, along with muffled murmur.
Her smirk only grew, almost demonically, as she strutted down the stairs. She reached the bottom, and all noise came to a dead stop as she caught the eyes of the few people in there. She waltzed up to some nerd with a clipboard, he blinked before warily scribbling down her name.
"Hiya. Yep, I'm here as a participant, names Masara Yeizn," she said, still inwardly cringing at her terrible choice of name, which was a simple anagram of her real one.
"Y-Young lady... are you sure? This is a place reserved for people willing to lose their lif-"
Nerd guy was cut off by a gruff voice behind him, as a burly man with tangles of tattoos stepped up to the side of her, side-eyeing her in the snobby way people to.
Samara's smile fell a little, before it grew to the biggest it had been all night, deeply contrasting with her now dead eyes and aura as she turned towards Tattoo.
"I'm good, thank you sir. I know what I'm doing here, so just tell me if you need help, sweetie." She said condescendingly, eyeing him up and down when he growled and looked ready to pounce.
It was silent for a few moments, before the room burst out in cackles, all except Tattoos, Nerd guy and Samara. She just grinned at him, and it endlessly grated on his nerves. Thus, he decided he's going in for the kill if she survives her first round, a decision that a mentally stable person would totally make in the same circumstances.
Anyways, she turned back to nerd guy, requesting that her first round be with quirk, the next two without, and then her final two with. He seemed a little less wary, but still was hesitant in writing, as he never enjoyed seeing children die.
"Masara-san, you will be participating in the first round, if that's okay. There is still time to back out," he said, something close to concern in his voice.
Her eyes softened a little, before hardening, as she replied.
"No thanks. I appreciate the concern though, but maybe you should prepare the cleanup team or whatever. I plan to have this done quickly."
Those were her last words that she spoke in that room, as she waltzed to one of the walls, and grinned lightly again as she scoped out her opponents.
20 minutes had passed, before she heard a voice announce on the loudspeaker above, and she made her way to the cage door of the room, strolling out onto the ring as the announcement came to introduce her.
"-and on the right, we have a newcomer! Nasara Yeizn! Place your bets now people! WHO will win, the Boar or the Girl. Right, now then, let the first fight of the big begin!"
Samara took a leisure step forward, as the glass of her ring came to form a thin yet sharp dagger in her hand. The other guy was running straight at her, so she waited until he was close, then she threw it. Needless to say, it missed which cause the guy to chuckle as he neared her. Before he could get within a meter of her, there was a slick sound, of glass slipping through flesh.
The glass dagger rocketed through the man's head, and back to Samara, who caught it with practiced ease by the handle. The arena fell silent as the guy fell forward, blood creating a burgundy pool beneath him, as that same blood dropped for the dagger she held.
She was spotless, and merely shook out the dagger before she misled in back into a ring, slipping it back on the walking back into where she came from.
Above her, a silver haired man with odd teeth smoked, eyeing her and noting her appearance as a smile crawled onto his aged face. Giran turned, and started towards the staircase. There he waited, tapping away on his phone and waiting for an opportunity to catch the girl and make a deal.
Nasara, or whatever her real name was, seemed like a good asset to have.
See you guys next chapter, tell me if this moved too fast, lovelies :) also please review and feel free to tell me about spelling/grammar mistakes 3
- Raven