Streets stained red are paths walked only by the dead.

Blood as dark as the asphalt seeps through his gaping wounds. The crimson liquid runs down his arms as fast as his legs run down the road. He moves in and out of pools of light created by street lamps, the rising sun's slight glimmer making him scared of being left in the dark but also terrified of being seen by what's chasing him if he goes into the light. His arms are wrapped around his guts like he's holding them in. He's so beat, he very well could be.

His steel plated feet scrape the pavement before catching the curb of a sidewalk. He flies forward, going airborne. Then, he lands face first in a bloody heap. It's not the first time that he's fallen. However, it is the first time that he's been unable to get back up. All his body covered in purple welts can manage is a jerky movement that gets him to roll over onto his back.

No pale moonlight, not a single star in the sky, offers a glimmer of hope. Just a bare blue like his hair matches his face now. He stares up but closes his eyes, the pitch black void that dares him to blink forces his eyes to reopen and strain to see through cracked bifocals. The darkness tells him to give in to temptation. To just close his eyes. His eyelids are so heavy and the dawn so dark that he mistakenly believes that he does, just for a fleeting second.

Trembling fingers reach into his left pants pocket, straining to grab his cellphone. Blood dots the screen when he does manage to pull it out. He doesn't bother trying to wipe it clean with his sleeve, considering that's just as blood soaked. Instead, he taps and scrolls through his very few contacts, trying to find the one person he wishes to talk to in the end. He accepts his fate and prepares to say goodbye.

He suddenly realizes how eerily quiet the still and seemingly empty street is. The only sound to be heard is the rings his phone makes as he waits for who he's calling to answer. Each ring is so drawn out, it almost matches his long intakes of air. The wait is excruciating. He no longer feels like he's waiting for somebody to answer his call. He starts to feel like the only one who he's waiting for anymore is death incarnate.

When the line clicks instead of beeping and going to voicemail, his breath catches in his throat. He tries to choke back a sob of relief when he hears a familiar voice answer, "Hello?"

Steeling himself, sniffling only a little as he holds back his tears, he presses the phone closer to his face. "Hi, Tenya..", the thirty year old man's voice wobbles just as much as his hand holding the weight of his phone, "It's me.. Your big bro.."

"Tensei?", the very concerned younger sibling fumbles with his own phone when he recognizes his brother's voice. Once the rustling ceases, he asks, "Are you alright?"

The wounded man smiles to himself, a soft weak one that's much too small to be seen by anyone in the dim morning. "Yeah..", he's so happy just to hear his brother's affectionate tone one final time, that he doesn't consider the answer a lie. The pressure on his sides becomes too much for him to handle, forcing out a horrendous cough. Spittle dribbles down Tensei's chin, but he's unable to lift his other arm in order to wipe it away. As much pain as he's in, he's just relieved to have this one last conversation with his little brother. "Yeah, Tenya, I'm fine–", he doesn't want Tenya to worry about that nasty cough though.

"You sound terrible..", but Tenya won't let him off the hook that easily. The Ingenium Family had always been an overprotective bunch. If only his brother could see him now, he'd throw a fit. Fortunately, Tenya mistakens his cough for anything other than a beating, "Are you coming down with something?"

"No..", is Tensei's immediate response. Afterall, he truly isn't sick. But then he reconsiders the alternative of telling his brother the truth, "I mean.. Maybe?" He nibbles his bottom lip, trying to decide what it is he should say. He doesn't want to lie, but he doesn't want Tenya to worry either. He just wants to hear his brother's voice one last time. "I dunno. I'm just tired. That's all...", he settles on letting Tenya know that much, at the very least. He IS tired. And then he tries changing the subject to divert Tenya's attention from fretting over his well-being, "I wanted to see how YOU were. What with the big Sports Festival coming up and all."

Tenya hums from the other end of the line, wanting to ask more about Tensei's health. After careful consideration, he decides to spare his older sibling the interrogation and settles on praise instead. "You're so kind. Always looking out for everybody else. Even when you yourself aren't feeling well. That's my heroic brother", Tenya's tender tone is full of pride when it comes to the brother that he's always idolized. He switches to something a little sterner for the last part though, "You'd better remember to get some rest though. Don't overdo it!"

Tensei has to force himself not to laugh at Tenya's antics. He's pretty sure his body wouldn't be able to handle it. "Right, right..", he trails off as his smile diminishes. The tears that he's been fighting to hold back begin seeping out of his eyes from the edges. "Listen, Tenya..", his voice is just as watery that he has to pause before trying again, "Tenya?"

Tenya picks up on the way that his brother sounds. So fragile. So already broken. "Tensei?", he asks for him out of the fear that he may not be there to answer anymore.

Tensei's tears spill out from the corners of his eyes, blending with the blood that's already on his cheeks. "You know I love you.. Right?", he feels more pain in his heart than his body when he realizes there's no way to express the amount of love he has for his brother, "I get busy sometimes and forget to say it, but I never forget to think it. Even with everything else running through my head, you're always there too. I need you to know that.."

Tenya had always looked up to Tensei as the hero Ingenium. Always business as a priority, the well-being of the community. Sometimes, Tensei forgot to be there as an older brother, he worries. In his final moments, he realizes he wasn't able to save his family or himself because of his priorities.

"Tensei?", Tenya raises his voice as high as the level of concern for his brother. He's not sure what's brought on this emotional speech, or why he and Tensei are crying so much right now, but it doesn't feel like a very good reason. His lips quiver as he tries to formulate the proper words to respond to him with, "I-"

But he never gets the chance to say them. Tensei sees something that Tenya does not. So he cuts his brother off to say first, "I have– I have to go now", hesitation making him stutter only momentarily.

"Tensei, wait–", his little brother makes it harder for him to hang up. There's a desperation in Tenya's tone that pleads for him not to go.

But he can't let Tenya hear what's about to happen. "Take care of yourself, Tenya", he ends the call so that he won't have to.

Then, it's just him and the one who had been chasing him. Tensei drops his phone, the screen cracking on impact with the pavement as it bounces twice. He figures he won't need it anymore anyway.

The hero's metallic heels slide on the concrete, feet pressing in and grinding into the ground. His legs wobble, thin things ready to snap at the bone. However, with the help of his hands, he's able to force himself to stand. Beneath him is a puddle of blood, marking the place of his final stand. Ingenium will run from this fight no longer.

Tensei pants heavily, body hunching over more than the man who is currently looming over him. He raises his arms, fingers curling to make his hands into clenched fists. The last time he took on a defensive stance like this, it hadn't been as pathetic. Even so, even if he gets beaten down like he did back then, he'll fight to the bitter end.

"..Just so you know..", he addresses the slender silhouette that's finally caught up to him with as much feigned bravado as he can muster, "I won't go down easy."

Tattered cloth hangs from the frightening figure, part of it billowing in the wind like a blood red scarf. In the man's hand is a sword as slender as he, the blade stained with ichor. Towering over Ingenium, the being creates a Grim Reaper visage, the katana substituting for a scythe. Without a nose, his face could easily be mistaken for a skull.

Tensei glares at the man who had been chasing him with defiance. His shaking fists hold still. He finds his resolve and faces death head on.

Death stares back, impressed with the hero's conviction, and responds with a toothy grin that stretches ear to ear.