✖ Dante ✖ Mission Five: Magic Bullets
[If anybody happened to wander into the bathrooms floor A and B shared, they would find a bizarre scene consisting of an albino idiot leaning over a sink with an array of pens, pencils, twigs, and pretty much anything that was long and pointy decked out under a running sink covered in blood. His coat was abandoned on the white-sterile floor while determined blue eyes were focusing on his reflection.
At the angle the mirror was showing it was clear to see and terribly deep wound on Dante's shoulder. Most of the skin around the open wound that wasn't covered in blood was bruised to a black, as if some sort of poison were tainting the area. He had a knife he had stolen from the cafeteria and was slowly shoving it into the wound with several winces and mild groans. THe beeping sounds of Dante's little companion was heard as his little fin-like hands came up in worry. Dante frowned.]
Sorry, little guy. I gotta do this or else it won't get better. C-Close your eyes or something. Turn around, play a happy song- don't look at me like that!
[Unfortunately, what ever he was trying to do wasn't going as planned. Instead, more blood seeped out or squirted against the mirror in front of him. The boy was not careful, his chest, his shoulder, portions of his face, and even his hair had gotten blood on it. With another attempt at the knife he threw it into the sink and leaned down, a hand gripping onto his shoulder as his head tilted forward, silver bangs covering his eyes.]
What the hell did he shoot me with...
At the angle the mirror was showing it was clear to see and terribly deep wound on Dante's shoulder. Most of the skin around the open wound that wasn't covered in blood was bruised to a black, as if some sort of poison were tainting the area. He had a knife he had stolen from the cafeteria and was slowly shoving it into the wound with several winces and mild groans. THe beeping sounds of Dante's little companion was heard as his little fin-like hands came up in worry. Dante frowned.]
Sorry, little guy. I gotta do this or else it won't get better. C-Close your eyes or something. Turn around, play a happy song- don't look at me like that!
[Unfortunately, what ever he was trying to do wasn't going as planned. Instead, more blood seeped out or squirted against the mirror in front of him. The boy was not careful, his chest, his shoulder, portions of his face, and even his hair had gotten blood on it. With another attempt at the knife he threw it into the sink and leaned down, a hand gripping onto his shoulder as his head tilted forward, silver bangs covering his eyes.]
What the hell did he shoot me with...