[THREAD] and then just MURDERED him

[striginae]

Who: Genkaku, Nagi, Rokuro; also open to Johan, Alucard, Nataku
Where: The Liebert Mansion
When: January 6, 2 AM
Summary: Genkaku sent Nagi an 'invitation', and it's been accepted.
Rating: R

Comments

[striginae]

The narrow tendril of smoke that twisted through the air, the gleam of too-bright eyes and the sharp smile, the familiar ring of vicious-sharp works -- Nagi felt something terribly painful twist through his chest, like a knife through his ribs. (Something buckled, came a half-inch closer to breaking.) And he couldn't help but freeze in the doorway, limbs locked and eyes narrowed into a cold stare, one that reeked of unbridled hatred of the purest sort.

"You know why I'm here." Words laid flat, tinged with ice -- Nagi took a half-step forward, forcing himself to still the faintest tremor in his limbs (out of anger, out of fear, it was hard to tell) and biting back the bitter aftertaste of hatred at the back of his throat. The orbs of blood continued to circle him, streaking brilliant red through the darkness -- acting out a useless barrier that would serve no purpose. (No, Nagi knew all to well that his ability was nigh-useless here. Which was why the cold weight of a revolver pressed against his belt, hidden under the folds of his jacket. An ugly weapon that he had no desire to associate with -- but once again, it was all about the lack of viable options. Backed into a corner, it was the only thing he had left.)

Hand clenched into a fist, hovering above his belt, slowly leaking streaks of blood into the air, he stopped a distance away from where Genkaku was -- words growing sharper with each hoarse breath. "Where is she and what have you done to her."

[hypermonk]

The monk took a few moments to gaze along the embodied shadow. Damn, he looked like a wreck, and at that realization the monk ran a hand through a few stray red threads and tucked them behind his ear to let out a dark chuckle. "You look like pretty good." He said absently and stood up from the leather couch to fold his arms against his chest languidly. Eyes once again gazed long Nagi, his lips twisted into a smirk.

Swirls of read formed balls once again and Genkaku knew that they wouldn’t have any effect on him. Hell, Nagi should have known that too, right? Then why the hell was he wasting blood and shit? The balls of blood didn’t intimidate him; they didn’t make the monk worry about his well-being. Only thing Genkaku could think of was that they were for show, and it wasn’t very impressive. "Heh...come on Owl, don’t say it like that." He muttered as he took a step forward, "I know you came here to see me, why you in denial, huh?" A lazy shrug was to follow with that demeaning voice that emerged from his throat. "Don’t worry; she wasn’t really that good anyway." The words that he spoke were to provoke Nagi, to taunt him; "Guess you really can’t save anyone, so why don’t you just give it up?"

Genkaku’s vision went to the kid that had earned himself a ticket to one of the greatest gigs alive. The monk placed the thin cigar back between his lips and tilted his head, speaking to Rokuro with disinterest, "Hey kid, get over 'ere." He basically ordered. Genkaku would have liked this much better if it was just him and Nagi, but the kid was kinda useful and curious about the whole deal, so Genkaku thought he may as well enlighten him.

[nerveexits]

An abashed crack of Rokuro's neck replied from the darkness if a quality could be attached to the gesture. Fuck, everyone was too observant, he thought amid interchanging inspective looks between his superior and the faux counterpart. "I thought... I might be of use," Rokuro unenthusiastically tried to justify his trespass. He had stopped short a meter from the crimson encircling the teacher and moved about him an cautious arc, however he didn't shy from drawing an arrogant smile as he passed Nagi.

The teacher's aura of animosity was palpable but he didn't enjoy the prospect of loitering around Genkaku in the current situation anymore; he had a general idea of Nagi's psychology and tactics, but not of the monk's. Fucking assholes - he glanced hatefully into the redhead's back and meandered away several steps - 'here' being a location subject to interpretation. "...He's probably got a handgun..."

[striginae]

The urge to flee, the urge to fight -- the two clashed and swirled in his chest, and he felt his heart beat ever faster, almost about to explode, exacerbated by the long stare, the twisted smile, the way drawled words tore through the air and into his head -- forming spiderweb cracks on a surface he couldn't see. (Feeling like he was going to break.) The step Genkaku took forward was answered with a step back from Nagi, and he stood with limbs tensed and shoulders shaking with every ragged breath, feeling phantom pains tear through the nerves of his half-healed amputation. Something hidden, something guarded in the back of his mind screamed at him silently, (-- kill him, attack, no inhibitions, lunge forward, you're more deadly than you know, kil him, kill him, kill him like he killed her --), but he swallowed it back, instead watching as Rokuro passed by, lips curved in a smile that he very much wanted and wanted not to tear to pieces.

The only reason he'd kept the firearm hidden so far was in the vague hope that the element of surprise would be on his side, but now that it had been given away, there wasn't a point to it any more. Falling back a half-step, he drew the revolver, the steel cold and heavy in his hand as he aimed it at Genkaku -- ignoring the faintest shiver that ran down his arm. (-- shoot, shoot now, kill him, KILL HIM --)

"Shut up, shut up." Synthetic words harsh with anger, interrupted only by the click of the hammer cocked back. His aim shook the slightest, but at this range, it hardly mattered. "I won't let you harm anyone else, not any more." The blood orbs continued to hover, bristling furiously with tendrils of red now. His ability alone was useless, but the firearm must count for something -- and Rokuro, he knew, was largely a noncombatant. There had to be a way out of this, there had to, there had to. Swallowing hard the taste of fear and smoke, he steadied his gaze to a hard glare. "I'm not interested in your taunts. Where is she."

[hypermonk]

Genkaku’s vision followed Rokuro until the younger stopped behind the monk. His expression was oddly unsatisfied to be the one in front of Rokuro and instead of looking at his actually target and paying attention to Nagi, Genkaku got distracted and reached over to grab the back of Rokuro’s skull roughly and shoved him forward beside the monk. "Yeah, you’ll be pretty useful." Genkaku’s words rolled out of his tongue in a rather vicious way, ordering the kid that was beside him before looking back over at his target. The sight of the cripple was hilarious enough that a string of harsh raspy laughter left his mouth.

At the sight of the revolver, Genkaku could only quirk his eyebrow. Damn, how conventional, now was Nagi just some guy who had plans to get some sort of revenge? Either way, it made the monk groan with irritation and sneer in disappointment. "Come on Owl, don’t disappoint me now." He muttered, "You can do way better. Heh, you deserve way better then using that ya’know."

The monk scratched his head briefly as a continuous amused noise emerged from his throat at the inquiry about the young woman Genkaku was about to get trigger-happy with. "She was pretty cute...pissed me off though, made me want to use Katsu." He said with a smug tone that occupied a smug expression, "Dunno where she is now, probably dog meat, just like your kid."

[nerveexits]

The lean fingers encapsulated his skull and he relinquished a small croak. Rokuro didn't fight the direction he was flung, but after he had gained his ground the floor squeaked painfully under Rokuro's shoe; his frame abruptly swivelled half-way, blackened eyes staring a hole in the monk's face. The look was sharp but completely inscrutable in its emotional quality; one couldn't discern if Rokuro was hateful or alert.

His attention's returned to Nagi, and more importantly the frigid object in his possession. The likelihood of the teacher opening fire on him floated in the range of 5 to 1 percent, a significant number to the traitor. Though Rokuro anticipated the front row and not the stage he refrained from movement that would incite repercussions. A low murmur: "Genkaku you bastard......"

[striginae]

He came close, dangerously close -- almost lost the fragile control he was barely maintaining over the rage coursing through his veins. It was some combination of the languid motions, the sneering laughs, the sharp grin that nearly drove him over the edge, and his finger wavered on the trigger of the revolver. (Nearly made him consciously attempt to commit murder, right then and there.) It was growing increasingly difficult to hold his aim steady, and it flickered for a moment from Genkaku to Rokuro to back again, as Nagi tried, tried to keep his breathing from deteriorating into harsh near-pants that felt like they barely filled his lungs.

"You're lying." It was stuck between a plea and a command -- praying, demanding that the careless words were falsehoods. (I cannot have been the cause of another death. Not like her, I won't allow it, I can't allow another person to die because I failed. I won't let this be a repeat, I can't, I can't --) "You're lying, I don't know what you're talking about." Words rendered in synthetic tones wavered and crackled as his breath skipped, playing an arrhythmic catastrophe. A rushed step forward, the gun gripped tighter, tighter, aim flickering between the two standing before him. "Where did you leave her. I'll kill you if you -- "

And a jagged scream of pain tore its way through his temples, whispering that there was something he was forgetting. Something that lay deep within his memory. Something that he should keep in mind here. A flicker of mottled colors, the angry hues of a long-lost image that teased at the back of his mind. A bead of sweat rolled down his jawline as he swallowed hard, limbs shaken by unbidden tremors. (There is no 'massacre', there is no 'child.' He's lying. He has to be.)

[hypermonk]

Thin lips coiled as he gave out a amused snort at Rokuro’s statement. Yeah, Genkaku was a bastard, so what? Violets gazed at the silver object once again in Nagi’s hand and his lips could only twitch upwards at the hesitation, the monk’s stance was fully open to take the shot; so why the hell didn’t Nagi shoot? That which held the other back was pissing Genkaku off and he felt that Nagi may have just needed a little nudge, and so he grabbed his own weapon that leaned against the couch and with one flick of a switch it divided into two machine gun. A strong grip wrapped around one of said pieces and he pointed it at Nagi with playful murderous intentions.

"Here Owl..." He murmured, jerked his head to the side and held the destructive weaponry to his hip, "I’ll show ya how to do it." And with a wide grin and the show of carnivorous teeth, he aimed at Nagi’s thigh; his finger itching to aim at Nagi’s head, but Genkaku didn’t want to kill him, it would have been too damn merciful. "It isn’t hard to kill, you should know that."

A loud noise escaped from the barrel and the metal that emerged from the gun went straight to the other’s leg.

[nerveexits]

Rokuro braced himself to exploit an opening between the two and take it, no good getting punctured with bullets from both sides now. A familiar din of weaponry struck his eardrum; Genkaku drawn. It seemed the option to observe from the sidelines had been purged and being the logical individual he was Rokuro opted for the next alternative, the one he was inclined to reserve solely for certain victories: he liberate his true self. No strategy in it - plain satisfaction.

"Keh," a single note of laugher crackled from his throat. The kid's jaws merrily parted, "Do ya have any idea I had pointed at me in my life? Do you? But just for this! I'll dig up the whore's corpse Genkaku did in and take a shit down her neck!! Put the fucking gun down retard you're out-matched!!" Rokuro flitted behind the monk's firearm and held on below the barrel. "H-hey, what are you waiting for? Blow this robot to pieces!"

[striginae]

Maybe, he could have prevented this. Maybe, just maybe, if he hadn't let the flickers of suppressed memories occupy his thoughts, he could have moved away in time, out of the path of Genkaku's double gatling guns. It would have been possible, perhaps -- but the fact of the matter was that Nagi couldn't, not this time. The harsh jolt of pain through his temples slowed his reactions, and by the time he realized he was staring down the barrel of the firearm, the gunshot had already gone off.

Instantly, a blossom of pain exploded in his leg, heralding a splatter of blood -- the bullet tearing through flesh just below where he'd previously been shot. Shards of glass shot through his veins, and he gasped, all the breath driven out of his lungs as he staggered back -- Rokuro's words ringing in his ears.

And when he focused his gaze on the past traitor, for a moment the shadow of true insanity flickered across his features, pale eyes alight with unbridled anger (-- I'll kill you, I'll tear you to pieces, don't dare speak of her like that, I'll kill you, your insides will decorate the floor --). The sharp whipcrack of a gunshot, as he pulled the trigger to the revolver, aimed at the guitar-gun -- a quick one-two shot as he fell to his knees, blood starting to pool on the floor beneath him.

[hypermonk]

The shatter of his guitar made the monk’s features grace total shock and unbelief for several moments. Ricochet from the instrument fell onto the ground and shot back into his anatomy (but leaving nothing but small smudges) violets slid along the side of his eye sockets to look at the mess on the floor and let out a sound of immense irritation, shooting Rokuro a look. "Damn...shut it kid, you’re gonna start pissing me off." And he swiftly moved with sluggish movements, feral almost in acts, prowling and violent. He picked up the second half of the machine gun and let his teeth clamp onto his bottom lip.

Genkaku nudged Rokuro back firmly and took aim. Instead of actually giving a fuck where he shot, the monk let out a full-blown stray of bullets, "Heh, this the kinda gig you want, Owl?" He murmured, words that were drowned out by the bullets that hit almost everything but vital organs. Shells clattered the gound and if anyone woke up because of this riot then good for them, Genkaku wasn’t going to let Nagi escape the time.

Smoke rose from the instrument and the monk inhaled deeply, he looked at his obsession with a humor-filled snort and chuckle before turning back to Rokuro, "Hey, take him to where his girlfriend was before I tossed her in a ditch." Then a jerk of his head towards Nagi, "This concert isn’t over yet."

[soulparadox]

What was that? It was the obligatory response to hearing the first gunshots ring through the manor. That would be something that people in the house would not be calm about -- at least to his knowledge. If such an event would happen in his old home, his grandfather would be quite upset about it. The reason for why was lost on Nataku, if he were honest. Those people were going to try to kill them regardless if they were calm or not. But at least, being not calm, would show that they were not wanted.

Running through the hallways, he hurried to where all the shooting was coming from. The door to the room was closed which he could tell as he headed towards it -- there was a moment when he thought of swinging his ribbon at the wooden doors, but if he created an unwanted mess regardless if he was trying to save the family, that would be unacceptable. Coming to an abrupt halt, he opened the door before starting to pull his arm back to swing his weapon at the intruders only ...

"Genkaku." The ribbon dropped to his side, lying dead at his feet. "I thought there was something I should be concerned about." It seemed as though he was entertaining guests and was about to excuse himself before he noticed the body on the floor. Gesturing to the individual, he asked. "Is that person dead?"

[nerveexits]

His skull rotated, a wry expression painting his face in light of Genkaku's request "Eeeeh? Why the hell would we wanna do that? No..." Rokuro carelessly relinquished the laptop under his arm as the plastic casing shattered upon impact with the floor. It may have been the discomfort of being torn from his safety zone or simply the scent of blood but Rokuro was not at all subordinate or instrumental.

"I'll rend him apart for fucking with my work - right now," his voice hissed throughout the dark interior. His nails dug into his hand, crudely mutilating the flesh into strips. An ugly, medieval-esque knife formalized from the liquid and into his twitching grip as Rokuro giddily paced to the victim of this game. He was unaware of the third voice, or any for that matter as he crouched before Nagi and aimed the crimson instrument at his face. Surely if Hummingbird could see the spectacle now she would be impressed, he observed in the recesses of his distraught mentality.

[striginae]

It always seemed he was a moment too slow, a split-second too late to save himself -- to turn the tables. Because the revolver had been lifted once more, reaimed in a shaking hand at Genkaku's torso (-- I need to kill him --) and it had only been a matter of which side's firearms went off first. (He never won these races.) The revolver went clattering to the floor, slip-sliding in a puddle of blood, as Nagi collapsed, gasping for breath -- feeling like he was being torn apart. (No, it's not that merciless. This won't kill me, not immediately. Bleed slowly, trickle by drop.) The pain was immense, unthinkable, shards of glass and battery acid ravaging his veins. (No, I can't die, not here, not yet, not to him --)

He was barely aware of the newcomer to the room, really, barely aware of anything at this point, trying to force his shattered limbs to move, trying to force himself back up, regardless of the way his vision wavered and doubled -- and then he was aware of the narrow figure drawing closer. (Don't come near me.) His vision had deteriorated into a mosaic of blurs and colors, everything flooding together, but even so, he could make out the outlines of the blade being formed -- no doubt intended for him.

It was instinct, more than anything, the pure and untainted will to live, that caused his own blood to peel off the floor in flickers of bright red -- swirling through the air and forming the familiar orbs in half an instant. "Don't touch me." It could hardly be called a warning, with the way there was no pause between words and action, pale eyes alight with a cold, cold violence -- before the blade could sink in, the spheres had already shot through the air, aimed for Rokuro's chest.

[hypermonk]

The red-head turned to the new company that entered the room and only gave Nataku a half-grin, not bothering to answer his inquiry because Rokuro was messing with Owl. And really? That just pissed the monk the fuck off. Large boots echoed as he made his way to the body on the floor, and he looked at the dumbfuck of the kid. A bead of blood that left Nagi didn’t make Genkaku flinch, however, the monk almost wanted to see Rokuro’s chest explode. Pretty good punishment for messing with the monk’s belongings.

"Rokuro." He murmured almost hatefully, Genkaku would never call Rokuro his real name unless the kid pissed him off. Violets looking down at the blood-formed knife that lodged out of his palm, and then a deep chuckle left his mouth. "Heh...fuckin' idiot, you’re no match for my Owl." The monk murmured and a wrist went up to his mouth and he ripped the string that held a dozen prayer beads. Said beads fell upon the blood-formed orb and he watched it dissolve, soon afterwards, the monk swung his guitar-like machine gun against his shoulder and gave Rokuro an effortless violet blow to the side of his head. "You gotta learn when to back off. You wouldn't wanna piss off Shiva, would'ya?"

The monk turned back to Nataku and Genkaku jerked his head towards Nagi in a gesture to summon the platinum-haired boy to him. "Hey there, you wanna help me get this lazy bastard to the play room?" He said with a smirk.

[soulparadox]

"Oh. He is alive." It seemed like Nataku did not need someone to tell him this as he heard the other's voice -- or lack there of -- and it seemed had enough life left in him to use whatever ability that was. Not the most descriptive way to explain what had just happened, but he had not seen anything like that before. There was a brief moment when he wanted to ask both Genkaku and the other two in the room what sort of attack was just used.

It did not matter that the other guest would have almost been killed, or at least injured in some way, because the person in the hat had told him that if an individual had the means to kill someone, they should act on it. Those that could not defend themselves were not worthy to live. Was that not correct? However, he was not able to muse on this for too long before he was addressed in the conversation. Looking away from the injured man to the monk and back -- understanding the gesture given to him, he tilted his head slightly in question before deciding that he should not ask.

"Understood." Walking over to the 'lazy bastard', Nataku decided to introduce himself as his ribbon snapped out to wrap around the other's body -- while he could have probably let the man rest on his shoulder as they walked to the room in question, it seemed like the individual was a little tired for various reasons and it would just be easier to carry him with his ribbon instead. "I am Nataku. If you would be so kind as to follow me. However, you do not have much of a choice in the matter." A brief pause. "I apologize."