Decietful Supremacy

↠『 Fractured Inductions 』↞

[ Finally I have decided to post my very new fic, this is AU based of agents. This will include, betrayal, bonds, past backstories. Hidden works, such as secrets. Everything and anything. I'll try to keep the word count 1000+ words. If you have any idea what you want happening, ship maybe just comment and I'll see if it fits! I'll try to post every other day a chapter sorry if not! Comment what you think as this is my first huge fic. Goodbye! Hope you enjoy.]
"Guren what the hel!-" An intercom screeched as a distressed voice had sounded from it. Instantly becoming disconnected as a ear-splitting, thunderous explosion pierced through the surrounding which this took place. This was not anticipated, the explosion was a shock to the crowd of people which had gathered in front of the vast area that was the building which the president stood proudly in front. Even the security did not have the acknowledgement that something this drastic was about to unfold. Even if they had, it had happened too quickly for even themselves, highly trained in their job of protection to intercept the explosion. Or even to brandish their weapons. It had come too quickly. Like a bullet slashing through the air. The aim was taken with accuracy. Timed too perfection to cause the most damage for the watching civilians . It had hit the bullseye right on its mark.

Subsequently, the bullseye was the civilians themselves. Like sitting ducks, prey standing idly there was nothing they could do. Shrapnel rained down on them, causing lacerations and gashes to decorate their skin. If the shrapnel had not injured them it was the force of the explosion which had ultimately ripped the civilians apart. The living from the dead. Extinguishing the flames which has erupted into a frenzied uproar was easier said then done. Black smoke surrounding them, slowly suffocating them in a blanket of Toxin. The flames themselves lashing out across the vast area, taking no one for prisoner.
Screams of anguish and terror sounded off throughout the deafening noise. Instantly, becoming terminated as they where silenced. People of all ages, race and gender had scurried. Trying to find some source of safety, but of course was not granted. Wailing mothers gripping tightly to their children as they where barricaded by a collapsed wall. Black vapor slowly seeping closer and closer. Like a python coiling around its prey. Slowly suffocating.  Much like the hand of death, smouldering all hopes and dreams. Fathers, desperately trying to ward off the flames. This being futile. Bellows being heard as black clad officers raced to where the President had once stood, tall and proud. Now nothing more then a dying promise of a better, safer country.

Two particular cries had rung through the building chaos. The first belonging to a ebony haired boy. Emerald eyes glazed over with fresh tears, others already cascading down his face. Causing his face to become red and blotchy. Whimpers only leaving his mouth as his throat became raw of the sobbing and screaming. Tugging desperately at an item of clothing, which had resembled a sleeve from a blue shirt. "M-mummy, d-daddy come o-on we h-have to go! B-baddies a-are c-close." He spoke, his voice cracking as a sob racked his frail body. Grabbing a pale, cold hand and bringing this close to his cheek. Nuzzling against it for some form of reassurance, warmth, protection. But only got silence. Instead of a hand which wiped his tears when he got scared and cried. Reassuring everything would be ok. Blood had coated his skin in its place. Not being his. Wide eyes searched the mutilated faces, containing lacerations and burn marks. Looking for a glimpse of life, a glimpse of hope. But once again there was nothing. His mother's last words echoing throughout his head like a broken record. "G-go on! Don't look back sweety!" The voice although frightened kept him running. Running as fast as he could, but this was exactly what they had wanted. Because almost instantly a stone wall had collapsed. Right where his Parents had once been. They couldn't be gone they couldn't. But he felt no pulse, they weren't answering him like they always would. The boy was met with silence.

Another boy, the same age as the first was also having to come to the fact that he was plunged into a life of isolation. He had never known what suffering was, how it affected you. But after coming face to face with the pained expressions of his Parents had he realised what it meant. The blonde haired boy was only metre's away from them. Yet he could not go forwards. Blazing bursts of fire had surrounded his two parents. Slowly eating them alive. The boy tried screaming, crying. Hoping that his parents would get out safely. They always had. When they had that small fire they survived that right, at the apartment. This was nothing more. It's all a elaborate plan to show him the ways off life surely? He tried to deny this to the best of his ability, tears seeming to freeze as none was falling. Eyes widened, as his body also seemed frozen to the very spot he stood. Watching his parents. Not being able to do anything but watch. Watch the pain and suffering. Out stretching an arm, a stray tear rolled down on his face. Smoke encircling around his figure, much like predator to prey. Hearing the last words of ha father, even if this was only faint, until the scream as had only increased then suddenly ceasing.   A sense of dread overcoming the blond haired boy as the words he was spoken to rang through his head. "The l-lesson o-of t-the say is, w-we will a-always love y-you, w-well done." Either exhausted or over whelmed by grief the boy fell to his knees, sobbing loudly as he curbed into himself. The boy was met with the flames cutting through his skin.

During the panicked haze of the distressed civilians, a reporter started pushing their way through the mass of a crowd. Avoiding the bodies, which once held life, now nothing more then a hollow shell. Crimson blood decorated the floor, which once was a flurry of colours was now washed over with the thick liquid off blood. Resting on their shoulder was a Camara, the lens being pointed straight where the incident had occurred. They had to get closer. Despite the raging, blistering fire around them. Or the constant ringing that rang through their skull. Lifting the Camara up, it took focus. Part of the lens was cracked but was able to still be used. Looking through the lens, a sharp intake of breath was taken, revealing what was in front of them.

Standing, amongst the torturous flames, the now once tall standing building, reduced to nothing but rubble was a average built looking male, obsidian haired. Amethyst eyes which was dulled in comparison to his pale complexion. His skin littered with Knicks and bruises, black clad uniform which most security officers had to wear, pieced in certain places revealing bruising skin. But this wasn't the horrific part, everybody was in the same condition. It's what was clutched tightly in the left hand off the standing male was a..detonator. The person who was amongst the crowd was shocked, almost dropping the camera. Wasn't he meant to be security? Why did he have the detonator? A realisation hit him, one that nearly knocked him to his knees. Or was that the force of another miniature explosion. He must of been the antagonist. The perpetrator of this horrific act. The male himself was covered in Crimson, too much blood to be his own. He needed evidence. And quickly. Without another moments hesitation he had zoomed as close as he could get, to be able to recognise the figure. Taking a shot of the male, making sure the face was identifiable. Magenta eyes snapped up locking with their own. Glinting, showing some sort of emotion. Satisfaction? Joy? The person could not decipher. Arms outstretched. Belonging to the ebony haired male. The detonator. He was going to set another one off, killing many more. Injuring the rest. Scarring everyone that had the unfortunate mishap of being at this massacre.

Before the reporter could so much as breathe, a vigorous shock wave disrupted their thoughts. Throwing them back with tremendous force, causing them to collide into the concrete ground. A sickening crack being heard as they lay still on the street. Head lolled to the side as Crimson liquid had now started painting their clothes and skin. Changing the once light colours to nothing but red. Camera landing next to them, smashed up then it once was. Black tape hanging out of the memory box. Reaching forward, painfully they had takes hold of the only evidence they had remaining. Although they felt their life slowly start to fade away, they had to ensure the evidence would be found.

During, the last seconds that the reporter was alive a figure appeared through the smoke, it Burned. It hurt. Trying to focus on the figure, all they could decipher was it was a male. Was it the one they had seen moments prior to the explosion? Have they came to gloat? See them suffer and laugh? The reporter did not know, as they where not given the answers as their eyes had finally closed. For the last time. A lifeless. Limp hand clutching on the last evidence. To prove the perpetrator guilty.

That's what the evidence exactly did. Verified who was to be condemned of treason.