[Feb 10th] [Magic Kaitou] Murderer: The Hell of Our Own Making [Random Scene]
Title: Murderer: The Hell of Our Own Making [Random Scene]
Day/Theme: February 10th - "And are for ever damned with Lucifer"
Series: Magic Kaitou
Character/Pairing: Kuroba Kaito, Vermouth
Rating: R
He ducked under the blow, heart pounding in his ears, knowing that there was no where else to go and no other way out than the way that they wanted. Still, he kept himself from taking that action, knowing that doing what they want would put him right back where he was at that moment. There was no way out. There was no other way to get through this. But he wouldn't give them the satisfaction. Not again. Not after that first time--
The next blow caught him in the side, the same side that was still recovering from the last match. He coughed, air leaving his lungs as his upper body automatically bent forward, his arms wanting to go to the injured area but instead coming around and grabbing hold of the arm that was still stretched out--the fist still buried in his gut. Thinking was gone at that point and he couldn't stop himself as he used the momentum from the blow to spin himself around and, pulling the other man by the arm, make his assailant stumble passed him and toward the ground--
Except he didn't let go of the arm and instead, followed the other man down, pinning his arm behind his back, putting a knee to his spine. Teeth clenched as he tried to breathe, tried to get his thoughts back under control before his body did something without him planning it first--that was what had happened last time. Lashing out without thinking, ending the match so that he could survive.
Survive until the next one, that was.
Sweat poured down his face as he panted, keeping the other man down, practically kissing the ground. Sure, this guy out-weighed him by quite a bit, but there was little he could do without breaking his own arm and possibly his spine. So he lay there while the smaller man knelt on his back, both breathing harshly, both knowing that there wouldn't be a call that ended the match until one of them was dead.
Dead or practically dead. In which case, those watching would finish them off.
It was around then that the shouts from above finally filtered into his hearing, loud and all shouting the same thing over and over again. The same thing they had shouted when it was him that was pinned under the other man at the last match. The match that he had gotten out of because--
He shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to keep the images from coming to mind. Memories of that first match came to him often enough at night when he had little else to do but lie there and hope that they wouldn't come for him again. Hope that he could escape, only to once again be caught from behind--cowardly from behind. Hope that they had had enough of their fun and would just kill him already.
Because despite not wanting to do it again, despite wanting to end it all and not continue on because it meant yet another match with yet another man who was in the same situation as he, he couldn't put an end to it himself. It was live or die, and he couldn't just lie down and take death as it would come. He'd tried, once or twice before, but always that instinct to survive came and...
His eyes burned and he couldn't tell if it was the grit of dirt of the arena or if there were actual tears trying to escape. If it were the latter... well, this would be the first time since before he'd been shot in the back.
Blinking his eyes open, he still couldn't tell which it was and just stared down at the man below him, who continued to grunt and heave heavy breaths as he tried to think of a way to get out of this situation, to survive. And he would let him survive. That man had just as much right as he, most likely. Most of the people who were thrown into these matches where those who the organization only wanted to torment before they were put out of their misery, after all. Some of them were like he was, someone who knew too much to be considered safe to let be on his own. Some of them were people who knew nothing about their situation and just fought because they would be killed if they didn't. And some of them... some of them were actually the kind of people who deserved this sort of treatment.
And he was becoming just like those sort of people, wasn't he?
The clamber from above didn't quiet and, instead, became louder. Shouts calling for death, calling for blood to be spilled again, calling the worst kinds of insults to the one who prolonged the other person's rightful punishment, the ultimate punishment.
His shoulders shook as he tried to quell the fury that was rising up within him. He'd never really known true anger before all of this, really. Sure, he'd had a taste of it, that night he discovered what his father was killed for. What had actually happened, why he'd been fatherless for a large portion of his life. And again, it came when he'd heard of the death of his mother, though it was at first muted by the horror of it all. It had only grown as time went on, as he recovered and resigned himself to that fate that Jii had shown him that night.
"I have tried to protect you these past years, young master, but I'm afraid I can't protect you from this."
He choked, feeling hot, fresh tears spilling from his eyes and down his cheeks as those words came back to haunt him, to almost mock him. It wasn't the way that Jii had meant them, and yet, it was exactly what he had meant to say. All those years being kept from the true knowledge of what had happened to his father. All those years growing up without having to worry about men in black on his tail. And all those heists when he first started, being kept from seeing what was really going on until it was too late to hide it anymore.
All those times he escaped unscathed...
And yet, here he was. Without any protection except for his own.
He almost wished that Jii had kept that cruel lesson to himself.
The roar from the crowd was now nothing more than loud noise that didn't make any sense at all. Those people watching were no longer united in what they wanted. Hell, perhaps there were bets going on about who would finally win, who would finally die, or if there would be an intervention and they would both be killed.
The man laying beneath him obviously thought the latter as he hissed up at him, "Just finish it already, you idiot."
He could only stare down at the man, blinking past those tears.
The larger man, who looked to be a foreigner with harsher features of the face, angular and with an auburn color hair that stood out against his pale skin, attempted to glare behind him, to meet the younger man's eyes as he gritted out, "One of us has to die or we'll both die, you moron. I dunno about you, but I don't want to give the bastards the satisfaction of getting two thorns in their sides out of their way."
He took in a deep breath before letting it out in a shaky exhale before quietly asking, "How do you know I'm a thorn? I'm probably more like a pebble in their shoe."
The gaijin grunted at that, shifting his shoulders a bit, knowing that he couldn't get his arm free and not seeming to care anymore. "If that were the case," he responded in a dry manner, "they would have killed you ages ago, kid. Believe me, they don't waste their time on the ones they don't want around. But the ones that they think they can break--that's a different story."
"Break..." he whispered back, numbly understanding more than he would like.
"You seem like a good kid," the man continued without taking notice of the reaction his words had caused, "but if you keep this up, those snipers hiding around up there will finish the job for you right before you get picked off. I've seen it happen more than once. Either that, or they'll just get rid of me and keep you alive for the next time. You're young. Still easy to shape and mold to their ways yet. That you're still resisting is a good thing, but there's a time to resist and there's a time to bow your head and play along or you won't survive. Buy yourself some time, kid, or you won't get out."
He almost wanted to laugh. Instead, the tears kept falling. "Just what makes you think I can make it out, especially if you never will if I do what you say?" he asked.
The man gave a toothy grin. "Oh, I'll make it out. I'll just make it out in a different way," he answered with a growl before glancing over his shoulder and giving a pained attempt at a shrug. "Sorry to ask this of you, but at least grant me this much. Don't let them decide when I get killed. Either kill me now and give me that much or..." He trailed off before giving a bit of a laugh. "Well, I can't really make threats right now, not with that woman watching, waiting to give the signal."
That made him start. "Woman?" he asked before looking upward, searching the crowd. A sea of black...
... suddenly covered in a splash of red.
His eyes went wide as he felt the arm in his grasp go limp. Looking down, he could already tell the man was dead--no one could survive a bullet to the head like that. No one could survive with his head blown wide open. No one...
He quickly let go and scrambled away from the body, knowing that he was covered in the blood that had erupted as the bullet had sped its way home into the man's skull but not caring, only wanting to get away, get out of range of the weapon--
Only there was no place out of range.
Knowing this and not knowing what else to do or where to go to be safe, he sat there in the arena, back against the nearest wall, staring at the bloody mess that had once been a man--just a man tossed into this sadistic game like him, probably for different reasons.
A man who'd thought he'd been less than what he was worth, asking him to finish him off before they could--
He put his hands to his ears, trying to block out the loud noise of the crowd above as they cried out at the bloody sport. It didn't do much but muffle the noise and bring the sound of his rapidly beating heart and heaving breaths to the forefront. Proof that he was alive.
Proof that the other man was dead.
A loud announcement came from overhead just as two men came out from the side and took hold of the corpse's arms, dragging the dead weight off to the side to be properly dealt with. He could only watch, knowing that his life was spared--if they'd wanted to kill him, too, they would have already done it.
So distracted by these thoughts that he didn't even realize that someone had come up beside him until they were knelt beside him and wrapping their arms around him. Completely unable to move, so caught within that horror, that numbing sensation that threatened to take away all of that fury, that pain, that sadness, he allowed himself to be pulled against a soft body.
Covered in black.
"Shhh..." came a woman's voice then, making his eyes close as he recognized it all too well. "It's all right, young master. You're alive."
"But I doubt that, despite the trouble you have given them, those men will allow you to die."
Knowing only too well what it meant to survive yet again, Kuroba Kaito felt his body go slack as all the tension left him and he allowed himself to cry against that woman who'd put him into this hell in the first place.
-end of scene-
... I HAVE NO IDEA. DUN ASK ME.
Well, obviously, Kaito escapes later, so... ahahaha.
Dun kill me?
*runs and hides*
.
Day/Theme: February 10th - "And are for ever damned with Lucifer"
Series: Magic Kaitou
Character/Pairing: Kuroba Kaito, Vermouth
Rating: R
He ducked under the blow, heart pounding in his ears, knowing that there was no where else to go and no other way out than the way that they wanted. Still, he kept himself from taking that action, knowing that doing what they want would put him right back where he was at that moment. There was no way out. There was no other way to get through this. But he wouldn't give them the satisfaction. Not again. Not after that first time--
The next blow caught him in the side, the same side that was still recovering from the last match. He coughed, air leaving his lungs as his upper body automatically bent forward, his arms wanting to go to the injured area but instead coming around and grabbing hold of the arm that was still stretched out--the fist still buried in his gut. Thinking was gone at that point and he couldn't stop himself as he used the momentum from the blow to spin himself around and, pulling the other man by the arm, make his assailant stumble passed him and toward the ground--
Except he didn't let go of the arm and instead, followed the other man down, pinning his arm behind his back, putting a knee to his spine. Teeth clenched as he tried to breathe, tried to get his thoughts back under control before his body did something without him planning it first--that was what had happened last time. Lashing out without thinking, ending the match so that he could survive.
Survive until the next one, that was.
Sweat poured down his face as he panted, keeping the other man down, practically kissing the ground. Sure, this guy out-weighed him by quite a bit, but there was little he could do without breaking his own arm and possibly his spine. So he lay there while the smaller man knelt on his back, both breathing harshly, both knowing that there wouldn't be a call that ended the match until one of them was dead.
Dead or practically dead. In which case, those watching would finish them off.
It was around then that the shouts from above finally filtered into his hearing, loud and all shouting the same thing over and over again. The same thing they had shouted when it was him that was pinned under the other man at the last match. The match that he had gotten out of because--
He shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to keep the images from coming to mind. Memories of that first match came to him often enough at night when he had little else to do but lie there and hope that they wouldn't come for him again. Hope that he could escape, only to once again be caught from behind--cowardly from behind. Hope that they had had enough of their fun and would just kill him already.
Because despite not wanting to do it again, despite wanting to end it all and not continue on because it meant yet another match with yet another man who was in the same situation as he, he couldn't put an end to it himself. It was live or die, and he couldn't just lie down and take death as it would come. He'd tried, once or twice before, but always that instinct to survive came and...
His eyes burned and he couldn't tell if it was the grit of dirt of the arena or if there were actual tears trying to escape. If it were the latter... well, this would be the first time since before he'd been shot in the back.
Blinking his eyes open, he still couldn't tell which it was and just stared down at the man below him, who continued to grunt and heave heavy breaths as he tried to think of a way to get out of this situation, to survive. And he would let him survive. That man had just as much right as he, most likely. Most of the people who were thrown into these matches where those who the organization only wanted to torment before they were put out of their misery, after all. Some of them were like he was, someone who knew too much to be considered safe to let be on his own. Some of them were people who knew nothing about their situation and just fought because they would be killed if they didn't. And some of them... some of them were actually the kind of people who deserved this sort of treatment.
And he was becoming just like those sort of people, wasn't he?
The clamber from above didn't quiet and, instead, became louder. Shouts calling for death, calling for blood to be spilled again, calling the worst kinds of insults to the one who prolonged the other person's rightful punishment, the ultimate punishment.
His shoulders shook as he tried to quell the fury that was rising up within him. He'd never really known true anger before all of this, really. Sure, he'd had a taste of it, that night he discovered what his father was killed for. What had actually happened, why he'd been fatherless for a large portion of his life. And again, it came when he'd heard of the death of his mother, though it was at first muted by the horror of it all. It had only grown as time went on, as he recovered and resigned himself to that fate that Jii had shown him that night.
"I have tried to protect you these past years, young master, but I'm afraid I can't protect you from this."
He choked, feeling hot, fresh tears spilling from his eyes and down his cheeks as those words came back to haunt him, to almost mock him. It wasn't the way that Jii had meant them, and yet, it was exactly what he had meant to say. All those years being kept from the true knowledge of what had happened to his father. All those years growing up without having to worry about men in black on his tail. And all those heists when he first started, being kept from seeing what was really going on until it was too late to hide it anymore.
All those times he escaped unscathed...
And yet, here he was. Without any protection except for his own.
He almost wished that Jii had kept that cruel lesson to himself.
The roar from the crowd was now nothing more than loud noise that didn't make any sense at all. Those people watching were no longer united in what they wanted. Hell, perhaps there were bets going on about who would finally win, who would finally die, or if there would be an intervention and they would both be killed.
The man laying beneath him obviously thought the latter as he hissed up at him, "Just finish it already, you idiot."
He could only stare down at the man, blinking past those tears.
The larger man, who looked to be a foreigner with harsher features of the face, angular and with an auburn color hair that stood out against his pale skin, attempted to glare behind him, to meet the younger man's eyes as he gritted out, "One of us has to die or we'll both die, you moron. I dunno about you, but I don't want to give the bastards the satisfaction of getting two thorns in their sides out of their way."
He took in a deep breath before letting it out in a shaky exhale before quietly asking, "How do you know I'm a thorn? I'm probably more like a pebble in their shoe."
The gaijin grunted at that, shifting his shoulders a bit, knowing that he couldn't get his arm free and not seeming to care anymore. "If that were the case," he responded in a dry manner, "they would have killed you ages ago, kid. Believe me, they don't waste their time on the ones they don't want around. But the ones that they think they can break--that's a different story."
"Break..." he whispered back, numbly understanding more than he would like.
"You seem like a good kid," the man continued without taking notice of the reaction his words had caused, "but if you keep this up, those snipers hiding around up there will finish the job for you right before you get picked off. I've seen it happen more than once. Either that, or they'll just get rid of me and keep you alive for the next time. You're young. Still easy to shape and mold to their ways yet. That you're still resisting is a good thing, but there's a time to resist and there's a time to bow your head and play along or you won't survive. Buy yourself some time, kid, or you won't get out."
He almost wanted to laugh. Instead, the tears kept falling. "Just what makes you think I can make it out, especially if you never will if I do what you say?" he asked.
The man gave a toothy grin. "Oh, I'll make it out. I'll just make it out in a different way," he answered with a growl before glancing over his shoulder and giving a pained attempt at a shrug. "Sorry to ask this of you, but at least grant me this much. Don't let them decide when I get killed. Either kill me now and give me that much or..." He trailed off before giving a bit of a laugh. "Well, I can't really make threats right now, not with that woman watching, waiting to give the signal."
That made him start. "Woman?" he asked before looking upward, searching the crowd. A sea of black...
... suddenly covered in a splash of red.
His eyes went wide as he felt the arm in his grasp go limp. Looking down, he could already tell the man was dead--no one could survive a bullet to the head like that. No one could survive with his head blown wide open. No one...
He quickly let go and scrambled away from the body, knowing that he was covered in the blood that had erupted as the bullet had sped its way home into the man's skull but not caring, only wanting to get away, get out of range of the weapon--
Only there was no place out of range.
Knowing this and not knowing what else to do or where to go to be safe, he sat there in the arena, back against the nearest wall, staring at the bloody mess that had once been a man--just a man tossed into this sadistic game like him, probably for different reasons.
A man who'd thought he'd been less than what he was worth, asking him to finish him off before they could--
He put his hands to his ears, trying to block out the loud noise of the crowd above as they cried out at the bloody sport. It didn't do much but muffle the noise and bring the sound of his rapidly beating heart and heaving breaths to the forefront. Proof that he was alive.
Proof that the other man was dead.
A loud announcement came from overhead just as two men came out from the side and took hold of the corpse's arms, dragging the dead weight off to the side to be properly dealt with. He could only watch, knowing that his life was spared--if they'd wanted to kill him, too, they would have already done it.
So distracted by these thoughts that he didn't even realize that someone had come up beside him until they were knelt beside him and wrapping their arms around him. Completely unable to move, so caught within that horror, that numbing sensation that threatened to take away all of that fury, that pain, that sadness, he allowed himself to be pulled against a soft body.
Covered in black.
"Shhh..." came a woman's voice then, making his eyes close as he recognized it all too well. "It's all right, young master. You're alive."
"But I doubt that, despite the trouble you have given them, those men will allow you to die."
Knowing only too well what it meant to survive yet again, Kuroba Kaito felt his body go slack as all the tension left him and he allowed himself to cry against that woman who'd put him into this hell in the first place.
-end of scene-
... I HAVE NO IDEA. DUN ASK ME.
Well, obviously, Kaito escapes later, so... ahahaha.
Dun kill me?
*runs and hides*
.