Zahn Und Klaue

Prologue

Zahn und Klaue

By evolution-500

Cover taken with permission from justathereptile, the original artist.

Genres: Horror/Angst/Tragedy

Feedback: Always welcome

WARNING: This story contains violence, course language, disturbing themes and imagery. Reader discretion is advised.

Disclaimer: KILLER INSTINCT is a property belonging to Rare and Microsoft. I do not own any of these characters.

Notes: I've always been a fan of the Killer Instinct games, and for some time I've been wanting to do a proper KI-based story, but it's been difficult. Part of it had to do with finding an angle that justified and made sense of some of the craziness that happens within the games. The other part had to do with the 2013 game being developed seasonally; because of such an unusual development cycle, the game's story ended up suffering as a result, with barely any sort of cohesion or strong narrative. Some elements are brilliant, but others are either contradictory, real head-scratchers or just downright awful. For the purpose of this story and for the sake of simplicity, I'll be drawing from mainly KI1 and certain elements of the 2013 game as well, although some slight liberties will be taken in order to reconcile the two. Also, I want to give a shout-out to Star Aquarius, H.R.C. Stanley, Baniac, lulgijak and 10868letsgo for their help - thank you guys so much! I hope you enjoy! ;)

Prologue:

"At the midpoint on the journey of life, I found myself in a dark forest, for the clear path was lost."

- Canto One, "Dante's Inferno" by Dante Alighieri

The night howled against the thick walls of the castle, calling for its occupant.

A figure sat alone at a table, humming aloud as he studied the sheet music in front of him, putting the notes of the tune down onto paper with his pencil. Pausing in his song, he muttered aloud, then tried humming again. Letting out a frustrated growl, the figure released a slew of angry curses in irritation as he erased his error, starting back from the beginning until he worked his way to where he left off.

Two unlit chandeliers hung uselessly overhead, periodically creaking.

Behind him, a sandstone hearth roared and crackled noisily, pouring out its dim light across the ochre stone floor. The sole source of light in the entire room, it illuminated his back as he worked, the orangish hue painting the rest of his environment unnoticed.

The ochre color of the floor extended upward to a pair of marble Roman Tuscan columns with smooth shafts and the burning hearth between them, their capitals connecting up to the castle's Gothic rib-like arches. The arches themselves rested against smooth concrete white walls that were disfigured and cracked from age at the top and bottom corners, resembling the decaying hide of an animal. Two feet over the mantel hung a brown clock with two pairs of ornamental bat wings protruding from the top and bottom corners, the clock ticking and winding down. At the left-hand corner hung a shield with a pair of crossed sabres, while a self-portrait of Rembrandt watched directly over the figure with keen interest as he worked in the right-hand corner.

The sounds of the wind, the clock's ticking, the crackling of the fireplace, the squeaky hinges of the chandeliers mixed with his tune as he put pen to paper.

He paused as the shrill maniacal laugh came again from upstairs.

Tightening his fingers around his pencil, he tried to ignore it, but like the wind outside, the laughter was just as unrelenting, cruel and pitiless, rising and falling, grating on his nerves.