Bitter [Finished]

Apples

The corrupted weapon, Victor waltzed about a market in New York, deciding which delicacy he was going to feed upon...A blonde or a brunette? The only other thing to think about was the fruit that went well with a human soul; but it couldn't be just some hooker. It was the irrationality of hunger for purity that kept the dark weapon afloat. Irrationality...meant survivability. Any normal being would second-guess feeding on others' souls to avoid the devastation of fears and negative emotion, something he did to close that well. While some parts of America were ones he was not particularly welcome in, he had found refuge in New York. Refuge in its sewage-equivalent parts while the dining was done during business hours in the mainstream areas.  

Or grapes

Upon his site had been two wonderful mothers, both harboring a child inside them and one already the mother of two. He had watched them for some time now, to determine if they were worthy of him feeding upon one or the other. While normally he would take both, the one has children that may grow to discover the executioner and seek vengeance of their own. The difference was the inclusion of rationality and maturity to this vengeance, rather than his own generalization of Meisters. It was a Starbucks, a wretched coffee shop with the most up-tight people who usually go in-and-out for their lattes and Frappes. But these two actually sat down and talked in the coffee shop, without harshness or rudeness in their tone. Each complimented one another in a manner that made them actual friends who respected that fact. Oh, what a heart-breaking decision. The lovely mother or the soon-to-be mother? Both were "twofers" with the growing babies inside them, so the only factor stopping him from choosing both was the aforementioned children...It had to be the brunette.

Apples. I should pick some up on my way to dinner.

Preparations were made to seek out both mothers, including finding out where they lived and what routes they took home. It had been week since Victor began his hunt. Exiting the coffee shop, he quickly made haste to a fruit market where he would steal two apples before leaving to pursue the brunette soon-to-be mother. It took a few minutes, but he eventually caught up to her. With a cynical smile, he watched her from the shadows before taking a side-route to her house, one that contained thugs that didn't care about a mountain of meat's traversal but would have mugged the poor mother. Moments ahead of her, Victor busted through the back door to be met by her dear, late husband.

Ivory. The walls were ivory. And so was the blood of the brunette's late husband, a correlation? Nope, not like there was the ichor of a human being fluently spread about. This was an evil being's doing, but the couple apparently never encountered a Kishin before. The blade-hand slowly reformed into a human hand, just as the soon-to-be mother entered the house, shocked by the silence and baffled by the dark feeling going down her spine. Is honey in the living room? Nope. Is he in the den? Nope. Up stairs? Nope. The last choice....was just answered by screams. "Why are you here?" she screamed...which only aroused Victor in a non-sexual but energetic way. No answer, just simply the silencing of the poor, little lamb. Victor had already devoured the husband's soul, and soon he would take what was rightfully his, the wife's. But alas, good things never last for the screams caused the neighbors to call the authority, which surprisingly was not done when he broke in and killed the husband.

Dining and dashing, Victor made his way away from the area of the murder. Surely someone from DWMA would be sent there with how brutal it was. To ease his thoughts while walking down the street a few blocks away, he began eating his apples but noticed that they only became...bitter.

As Victor had watched his targets with an almost whimsical sort of mania, he too was being watched. Pride incarnate on this mortal realm, Superbia watched him from on high, his wings spread out behind him as he expertly balanced from the tip of the radio antenna. A cruel smile graced his lips as he held his sword in his hand. His cloak twisted and writhed unnaturally behind him, so tuned to him that it sensed his agitation, and the bond they shared forced it to react in kind. "So proud of your deeds... We will see how long you last..." He took to the skies, taking care to follow the weapon from a distance so as not to arouse too much suspicion.

Bitter...How sad. Should've gone to a different market. Oh well.

Victor walked with a hurried step but it did not have tension, it did not have worry or regret but only caution so he could avoid the authorities the neighbors had so cowardly summoned. Unsurprisingly, it wouldn't be until much later until they arrived. Murder was common in New York, making it so easy to mask the craving for souls even if it brought barbaric decisions about. The one thing that got Victor was the odd shadow that was next to him at one point...then another...then-there it is again! He ignored it, for any sudden movements would mean ruining chances of leading whatever shadow was following him to a exclusive area. At least there was no sweet taste to ruin, but I hope this isn't the deal-breaker for my day being bad. Rolling his eyes, he continued with a new feeling of being followed...though he couldn't pin-point where it was coming from.

Walking down a bend, he made his way to a field just so he could take a short cut to the Slums...But it was rather empty so he turned around to look as to what was following him. It took a while to notice what was in the air but he couldn't tell what it was even. With a quick itch of his nose by brushing his thumb across, he smiled at the disfigured shadow. "Not the regular ol' human bastard are ya? What? Do I have a bit of blood on my hands? The sun may make you out to be a shadow, but how about you give me a peek show of what you really are..." opening and closing his hands, Victor beckoned the beast to come for him. He had been four souls in to becoming...a death scythe? No, he would become something more sinister simply by following the same path a Weapon would. He was...much darker and most likely compatible with the madness that engulfed the creatures like Kishin.

Superbia idled in the air for more than a little while, before slowly drifting down, his two wings casting long shadows in the sunlight, casting him not unlike a fallen angel, someone with one foot in heaven and the other in hell. He took care not to land, hovering mere feet from the ground, and several feet still from Victor. "You would like to know me... Then let me regale you... You may call me Superbia... And you may also bow." He held tight to his sword, but still allowed it to rest calmly by his side.

Damn, he's one of the fucking demons.

While at first Victor had a sense of might, he knew that without a meister he had no real way of defending himself, due to his lack of power and the rust he has developed from being in a coma for almost two decades. The man could kill him right there if he wanted and all Victor could do was turn his arm into a sword while the Kishin could show off his flashy powers, whatever those were. Kneeling, he looked up to the demon with his sun-colored eyes, leaning his torso as if he was bowing but not breaking eye-contact. "Oh, as I live and breathe! A Kishin. I used to kill your kind....Pitied them at one point. But then I saw...who the real monsters were. All those fucks with their families and their love. They completely abandoned what they call degenerates...What they write off as demons. As monsters....And I shall warn you not speaking for almost 20 damn years makes me quite the port-a-potty. So, since I found a Kishin that can finally speak. Rationally I hope, I must ask the question I've had for all these years....Who do you think are the real monsters? No not good, or evil. Confusing, probably....But the people who really made us this way. They claim it was our own doing...."

Viction looked down after his rant, which was expected from someone who had been knocked out by his late, ex-girlfriend for almost twenty years, makes a man full of questions. He was riddled with curiosity, finally meeting a Kishin with linguistic ability. It didn't swear, even though he does, it didn't immediately attack him. No, it just kept a distance and asked for him to bow...which he undesirably had to oblige. After bowing, he saw it upon him to lean back on his knees, his arms at his sides and his chest pointing up, looking at the behemoth. "I apologize for a disrespectful mouth, generally I don't care about what others think or feel but I'm no fool. I haven't done much more than prey on insects after being asleep for a while, so I doubt I stand a chance, and I doubt that I have the choice to safely be my usual, dickish self to you."

Superbia was slow in most regards when it came to dealing with others. A practiced hand, knowing when to put the right amount of pressure, and where to put it. And when to take a shot in the psychological dark. "Those mothers did nothing to you. Don't patronize me by asking me a foolish question. I know from what pit my demons spawned..." His sword seemed to be literally sucked up into his cloak, as did his wings, leaving him standing before him with seemingly nothing to defend himself with.

Victor chuckled this time, for he knew exactly what he did there, in New York. Where humans live in a lake of invisible blood, murders happening every day but no one seeing it...no one hearing it. And no one knowing it even happened, especially to those around them. Victor was fully conscious what he did was outside what he was asking, that he had turned into a monster because the ones who made him this way were those that instilled the fear of loss. The fear of losing what he wants. Taking a gander at the disappearing act of the sword, he doubted it made the man more vulnerable. "Superbia, baby. I know what I did here was nothing more than murder. First degree, in fact. I deprived a mother of living out the family life. But no, it isn't New York. Not Jersey. Not Ohio, Iowa, Not Washington, California. Or Florida, no continent outside of this one. But it sure as hell is in America. And if you guessed it, I guess you could play in your head 'bingo' because the top contestant, the winner of this gameshow of name-calling is in fact DWMA's home, Death City. I know, I have to take a few gears out of society but guess what? It's not like I'm wiping out the populace. No, I want to grow up to be a strong Death Scythe or whatever the hell I would be, I don't know it's not like I was in a coma. I want it to be Meisters I feed on. The ones that oppress those who have lost love!"

The chuckle became a sudden laugh of mania as he continued to rant to the man about what he desires more than the pure soul of a mere human...like the souls of those he has murdered. Clenching his hands like he was holding something, his muscles tightened as he put his strength into the laugh. "I was one of them. We did no sort of counseling, we had no sort of preventing the eggs from sprouting. No we let the well of evil pour into the minds of those who have gone off the deep end, this obviously excluding the likes of gang-bangers and the like...And then we hunted them! I used to find sport in it, now I want it to be the other way around. The power...to kill the man who has ordered genocide of those that are just corrupted by the very inaction of America's super-power! But I, myself, am just powerless from what they took from me." Wide-eyed, Victor began to lose control of himself as he may or may not have began to annoy his guest. What society claimed as evil....Victor might fit that role. The backwards morals, irrational though, brought an era of murderous intent. To strike down...Death himself. That was his boy's dream. One that would never be accomplished, not even nearing it for he would die before it happened.

Superbia raised a brow at that, a grin slowly spreading. "You would hunt the hunters? Interesting..." His wings spread out once more, casting their shadow over the dark weapon before him. "You are a prideful creature. That I can respect...." His sword dropped from his sleeve and he expertly caught it in his hand. "Perhaps one day you will be able to grace my other hand. But as it stands, even I can tell you're too weak. Though, perhaps it may interest you to learn that a pair of death scythes currently reside in this city."

Victor had a cynical smile still spread across his face, he was quite energetic and knew he wasn't strong, but that could change with a meister. With someone who could wield him, he could become a deadly weapon; especially in the hands of a man like Superbia. "Usually I don't beg, you know when someone makes them self look like an idiot with the higher chance of once again being rejected and only a yes coming out of those who take pleasure in watching it, but I am weak now. What if a Meister picks me up? Another Kishin? If I ripen with them wielding me, that's a bond between souls that is hardly broken. To them, the hunters, you are an abomination. You are a monster to them, and they want to kill you. Hunt the hunters, as you said. As for the Death Scythes? A weapon cannot grow without a wielder. Without a master. If I were to hunt down these Death Scythes, scope them out like I did that mother...I would need someone to grasp the form that I am most useful in."

Victor extended his right arm towards Superbia, shifting his body and loosening the grip in his left hand while tightening the grip in the right. He was full of happiness that he could find a partner to slay with, to devour with, to spread chaos with. "And if you truly don't want me, I will leave. I will pray on the souls of families over the souls of those that truly deserve it...the oppressors. The true murderers. We are born from the shadow of Death, and his name upholds the ultimate hypocrisy: they are good and we are evil because we kill innocents." finishing his rant, he just let his arms drop and began panting, breathless from the extended speech he had given Superbia. He had obviously thought about these things before, it was irrational really.

To trust a Kishin so easily, but nonetheless he needed to use someone to his advantage, with the secondary goal of having at least one good ally. But in the mean time, he had to go over what he was saying to Superbia, which may have been a bit foolish because he knew nothing about the man. What he really wanted was that 99 souls and 1 witch soul.

Superbia had drifted some feet into the air, wings buffeting Victor with wind every time they flapped. He cast his gaze down on the weapon before him, seeming to study him. Slowly, he reached down, taking the dark weapon's hand. "Make no mistake. You are not in control here. If I sense for even a moment that you intend harm against me, I will not hesitate to hurtle you into the deepest trench that I could find on this planet. I would survive those pressures. You would not." Superbia's words reflected malice, but his tone was one of joy. Two weapons with which to reap souls. How wonderful.

Victor laughed maniacally...was this his own madness? There was no power in it, only his own mind's nature. Cracking...darkening...corrupting. The sense of reaching his murderous goal, to destroy Death City and those that make the monsters what they are. It became much clearer to him as the man took his hand. Using the meeting of two hands, he rose to his feet and proceeded to make a brief shake before releasing it calmly. "So, you accept me as your weapon...But do we share the same goals? Mind you, I understand it is a very ridiculous dream. I've been in the master-slave relationship before, that's no issue. All I ask in return for my loyalty is the consideration of growing the forces to take down Death City, more specifically Shibusen. Every goal starts in dust and dirt, but the only true fruit of it comes from hardships and danger. The one thing I do want to do is..." Victor clasped his hands together, tilting his head and closing his eyes before opening them with force.

"Kill the Death Scythes." he chuckled, knowing that it was a bit foolish to consider doing such a thing so soon. It wasn't 'right now' form of choice, he was one whom planned before preying. "But I'm no fool, each prey needs a plan against them." he said, to reassure his wishes. But he half-expected rejection from the stern creature.

Superbia nodded and smiled perhaps a little too wide. "Their names are Aiko and Sozen Nakamura. You will find them, you will follow them, and when you think you are able to strike, call me. You will know how to contact me when the time comes. Until then... Adieu." With that he slowly began to rise, slipping his hands into his pockets.

Victor had a noire moment with himself, where he saw black and white and only the significant things had color. That one significant thing was his new master, Superbia. A black that separated itself from the noire of his vision...Was this a hallucination? Mad, he was becoming apparently. But Victor could only smile on the moment, for he was getting closer and closer to his goal. But what made him frightful was the fact...did the Death Scythes take notice to his murders? He was insignificant right now, but the closer he became to their equivalent the more dangerous he would become and at that point, without a doubt, he would become a target. He sprinted back into the city in search for the Death Scythes. While he was excited, he realized that he needed time and preparation. Instead of jumping into battle, he took what money he had from inheriting it from victims and began to buy supplies for make-shift tools.

Walking up to a fruit market he picked up a basket full of plums...their pits would be very useful. It was common knowledge that the pits of most fruits have cyanide in them. But a trained killer could use those pits much more skillfully than any average citizen. The next step was to buy an apartment for once, but with cash. Victor had quite the build up in his wallet from compounding all the small change into Benjamin's. It didn't take long to find a home in one of the run-down apartments. After some cleaning, including slicing up cock-roaches, he made sure to put the plums in the fridge for now. They weren't going to be put to use...just yet. "We met with blood...I guess he can find me by searching the area around my next art show. But for now, I'll just have to...wait...refurbish this shithole....and prepare." he sat on his dirty couch that the low-grade apartment had, relaxing and poking at the bugs that came out with a blade from his finger.

For now...just relax.


[Topic End]