The blade was familiar in his hand, the ghost of a smile snaking onto his lips as the silent chord of horror reverberated in the eyes of his victims. The targets were sighted, and he paused with that slithering smirk as the land around them became locked in the never-ending scape of fear.
The gleam of red met the glare of yellow, the colors clashing in shards of fragmented harmony. The determination in their narrowed gazes sickened him, leaving a burning in his chest and the desire to completely obliterate any hope left in those bright, crimson eyes. He’d crush them by his own hands, a fitting end to this Tragedy.
Left.
Right.
A sweep of the scene, and a sneer at the plan of defense they took.
There were only four of them now, including the Little Master who cowered behind a youth, his hand protectively on her shoulder. His eyes were fierce—despite such innocent countenance—that it left the blade-wielder with a deep sense of grotesque amusement. Did he really think escaping with their little Queen of Tragedy would save them?
It didn’t matter. Their lives would be in his hands at the count of one. They would be begging for mercy on the count of two. Screams would pierce and ring deaf on the count of three.
The two petty heroes faced forward, the chorus of their prompts of escape to the two retreating figures, hopeful words of defending their friends weighing heavily, and falling like stones from the moment the claims left their mouths. How entertaining.
Laughter reigned the silence, and the specter of his own realm buried his eyes into his palms, as if drunken with amusement. Drunken with malicious intent. And it shattered.
Kuroha’s eyes locked on the duo, grasping at the knife with perfect coordination, shifting his step to circle them in a trap of his prey. The two moved together, back to back, hair of jade and blond moving together as their hoods dropped to their shoulders in unison.
Pull down your hood and show your face.
Their hands grasped for each other’s as the snake-eyed man stalked them, ready to pounce. His gaze shifted about them, landing quietly, maliciously on the female. Yes. She’d do nicely. Feeling his muscles tense as he took the offense, he choked a laugh like a mad bark of malevolent pleasure. The rush blinded him, energized him, and already were seconds slowing into his speed.
Shall we start, then?
The eyes of a snake widened as he kicked from the ground, lunging for the girl with the knife outstretched.
One. He could see the panic in their eyes, the girl frozen in fear as the knife was thrust forward with all of Kuroha’s strength. But the sharp edge missed its mark as a force collided with her, leaving a tear of her purple hoodie, and a gentle flow of a crimson as bright as her eyes. A sharp scream pierced the air as the two tumbled onto the ground, the knife wrestled out of the raven-haired man’s hands by a boy with eyes yellow as his own.
The girl was breathing, letting out whimpers of pain and hisses of death directed at him, recoiling which each word as the boy stood up, the knife aimed at Kuroha’s heart.
He was shaking, fumbling the blade as though he’d lost all knowledge of its use. The fear in his eyes, he could tell it wasn’t from his impending destruction, but of horrors of the past. This little bastard, he’d be no fun at all to kill.
Kuroha stifled a sneer was he stared calmly up into those sly eyes, dampened and weak from the scars of memories.
A knife to a gun fight. That’s what the saying was, he recalled with feigned fondness as he drew for the chilled metal, wrapping his fingers around it, savoring the icy touch that would soon lead to the boy’s demise.
A click.
Two. Eyes widened in deepening terror, silence fell from the girl who still lay wounded on the ground, hissing insults and threats no longer.
Aim.
A sneer. “What you see is exactly what you’re gonna get.”
The boy was frozen, his muscles like frigid and unmoving ice, the knife grasped unsurely as he stared down the barrel of the pistol. Shouts had erupted from the female a second time, begging and pleading for the release of the boy. Nothing like the threats of death that had cascaded from her lips like a fall of poison only moments before. Spare him. Spare him, you bastard.
Yeah, right.
Kuroha struck fast, lunging for him, the boy whose name was evident by the girl’s cries. Kano. He swat the knife from his hand in their struggle, pinning him to the ground and hearing the distant clink of metal on the hard ground. A foot to the youth’s throat, just enough pressure to leave him gasping, clawing fruitlessly at his shoe. The wounded girl attempted to gather the strength to stand, but the pain sent her stumbling.
He laughed.
Three. The gun lingered on Kano’s forehead, those eyes focusing on the dark barrel, his breath stopped. His eyes were pleading, the screams of the girl rising, and falling away as she tired herself out, her energy deteriorating with every failed attempt to take a stand. And at that moment, Kuroha knew even their twisted death couldn’t save them from his wrath.
Bang.
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Ahh, part one of a little Outer Science fanfic I've been working on. Let me know if you'd like to see more-!
