[Feb 11th] [Magic Kaitou] Murderer: Breaking Point [Random Scene]
Title: Murderer: Breaking Point [Random Scene]
Day/Theme: February 11th - "Confess and be hanged"
Series: Magic Kaitou
Character/Pairing: Kuroba Kaito, Vermouth
Rating: R
He had no idea why she kept doing those sorts of things.
It was worse on the days that he could actually keep himself together--whether it was because he was able to stay in that cell that they called a room without having his name called for yet another blood sport or because random moments of coherency was typical when one underwent such things despite how much he wanted to retreat away from reality whenever those moments came. And they came so much more frequently as time went on. It was a frightening though, almost as though the fact that he was becoming a little more aware of his surroundings meant that he was actually becoming used to these sort of things--
Only Kaito firmly put those thoughts from his mind and always continued to try to think of, yet again, another escape route that would actually work. He couldn't afford to dwell on the fact that he may have become desensitized to the horrors that he was exposed to--more than just being thrown into the arena, having to put down yet another human being who had been tossed in just the same as he was.
There were also the moments of pure and utter silence where all Kaito had was the four walls around him--six if one actually though of the floor and ceiling a "wall"--and the sounds of his own breathing and his own heart beating, continuing to persistently hammer against his chest as he tried not to think too hard about the hearts that just stopped. He had no idea how those people achieved that kind of silence because after a certain amount of time, there would be such loud clamber of noise that the thief was nearly deafen.
Another way to torment those they wanted to break, he would tell himself, knowing without a doubt that that was their goal.
It was just like that one man, the man whose face--no, not face... there wasn't a face anymore, just a gory mess that came because he hadn't--what he had said about keeping the ones they wanted to eventually make theirs. They wouldn't kill him. They couldn't, it seemed like, no matter how many times they threw him into that pit.
Partly because he wouldn't allow himself to simply take death as it came.
Partly because she seemed to have a personal interest in him.
It didn't take the thief long to realize just how much pull that woman in black had in the ranks. The fact that she could freely come and go as she pleased, carrying whatever she pleased--food, water, purse... gun. No one questioned her, and she seemed quite willing to let them carry on about their business.
And she visited quite often, truth be told. Maybe that way why he hadn't gone completely insane. He had that person to focus in on, to keep his mind intact, rebuilding what had been broken over the course of time--just how long had it been since he was first brought into this hell hole, this place that reeked of death and blood and filth and--and keeping himself as together as he could. There was nothing he could do to salvage that part of himself that had truly been destroyed--or not destroyed but maybe broken and then healed into something unrecognizable; the thing that made him stay sitting up with his back to the corner, curled up and watching the shadows for any movement, jumping at the slightest sound, the slightest touch of air--
It was all he could do to keep himself together some days, just laying there and trying to remember simple little magic tricks to at least keep his mind from slipping back into that torrent of blood and--
Sometimes it was the anger that kept him centered. The anger he felt for the injustice done to his family, to his guardian, to he himself. It was the anger that he only allowed to truly come into being whenever she was in the room with him, wanting to lash out but keeping himself in check, especially when she brought in a weapon with her. She wanted him to take justice in such a way, the same way he had to keep surviving in that pit that he kept getting tossed into. It wasn't the way he wanted to do things, though. He never wanted revenge in such a way. Find the bad guys, expose them, destroy what it was that they sought--that had been all he had wanted.
And Jii had showed him how foolish such thinking was, understanding only too well how a person truly was when they were pushed into a corner with no where to go. Murderous. Instinctive. Completely without morals or even something as simple as thought. They killed to survive. They did anything to survive.
Kaito wondered some nights--was it night or was it day? one month or the other? he lost track so long ago--if Jii actually knew all of this first hand.
From being exactly where his young master was at the moment.
Sitting across from a woman in black, eyeing the knife she had brought this time--a wicked-looking blade with just the right kind of tip to stab between the ribs and then jerk up in order to puncture the heart--or if one wanted to be a bit more cruel, the lung.
A person could still breathe with just one lung, after all.
He'd even watched once as a man died, drowning, suffocating on his own blood because he could still breathe and continued to fight despite the blood pooling into his lungs.
It was such a tempting offer, but as always since she first began her little games, Kaito only looked away, looked straight into her eyes, glaring, clenching his teeth and his fists as he kept himself from slipping back into the incoherent mess that he kept slipping back into.
And as always, her lips quirked upward just slightly, barely noticeable if one wasn't a student of the man who had perfected the art of masking anything and everything, before she spoke, voice lilting and retaining a soothing quality that Kaito was loathed to admit to even himself, "You're looking surprisingly well, Kaito-kun."
He didn't even deign that with an answer, only looking away from her for a moment to look to the tray of food that was left for him every night.
Barely anything had been touched.
The woman tsked a the sight, leaning over in her seat in just a way that had Kaito pressing his fists into his thighs to keep from reacting. Too close, much too close. And not only that, but the knife was right there, glinting at him with a gleam of silver that caught onto the earrings she was wearing that night--day--something.
He squeezed his eyes shut and struggled to breathe, feeling dizzy with the onslaught of memories of similar deaths to the one he could picture occurring right there and then. He wouldn't. He wouldn't give into that sort of thing. It wouldn't do anything. Being who she was, what she could be, it could be a test. All a test. To prove that he could be broken, could be trained to be their lap dog. A kind of right of passage where the newest human-weapon disposes of the one who trained them, maybe?
He wouldn't give them the satisfaction.
Despite the fact that he kept surviving, he could easily say that he would rather die.
Even if the temptation was oh so strong. For what she'd done to him, for what she probably had done to others--
"Do you know, Kaito-kun," came her voice again, this time closer. Much too close for his tastes, causing his body to tremble as he tried to keep himself from bolting away from her, from scrambling to the nearest corner and assuming the position his body took to mean safety. "The difference between a murderer and a survivor?"
Kaito's eyes shot open at that as he stared, wide-eyed as the blonde picked at the food that he had mostly ignored.
He knew only too well the answer.
And she never gave him the answer to her question, knowing that he already knew.
He quickly looked away from her again, hunching his shoulders that continued to shake as he felt his nails dig into his palms as he closed his eyes and tried to find again that center where he could think for himself and not get trapped in the mire of thoughts of the glint of silver on the only table in the room and the blood that could come if he'd just reach out--blood that came time and time again every time he was put into that pit with someone else who wanted to survive. A man, a woman, a kid like him, younger sometimes, over and over again. Faces staring, glaring, blown to pieces because he couldn't move fast enough, because he didn't understand what the price was--
Somehow he never realized when exactly his hands had gone to his head as he tried to keep the thoughts from flooding him, nor did he notice the woman's touch on his face until she had him facing her, her fingers holding his chin up so she could could stare into his eyes which had come open but hadn't seen until they met such dark a color--
He jerked away from her and leaped to his feet, hand closing around the knife and holding it out in a tight grip and he backed up against the wall, heaving heavy pants as if it had been an exertion, as though it had cost him something to have made that room.
Maybe it had.
But she just looked up at him with a raised eyebrow and asked, "Now, young master, what do you think you're going to do with that knife?"
She was... amused.
And Kaito could see why. The way his whole body shook, running from the core of his being to the very hand that the knife was being clutched in. It would have been impossible to make an assault even if he wished it, if he felt threatened--
But he did feel threatened. Every time she walked in and seemed to offer him a chance to either kill her or himself.
And he never thought about the latter, never even once thought that he could do it himself, always instead thinking that he could escape after he left her body in that cell for those men to discover when they came to toss him into the pit again.
Which only went to prove...
He screwed his eyes shut as he leaned back against the wall, arm slowly coming down to his side as he bowed his head and sunk to the floor, boneless, feeling the tears come again no matter how much he scolded himself for going against what he swore to himself he would never do again. Not in front of that woman. Not when she kept wrapping her arms around him like the woman she had once been, looking after her master's son whenever he was busy with his other pupil--memories buried so long ago resurfacing when Kaito didn't want them most.
When he could feel her arms around him, feel her hand rub at his back and brushing at his hair, and hear her voice murmur those words of comfort that rang so hallowly in that room of concrete and metal.
When he still had a grip on that knife and could, in his mind, see himself ending it right there, with her blood on his hands as well.
Even when she was ready for him to take that sort of action.
Face pressed into her shoulder, not able to control himself--there was no such thing as Poker Face, was there? all an illusion, only for an audience that no longer existed because they had only been there to watch a thief steal a gem, not kill people, not continuing to kill people, not wanting to drive that knife right into her gut--
He found himself choking out between the tears, a mantra that he repeated over and over again in a whisper, "I won't do it. I won't do it. I won't..."
"Shh..." Vemouth said quietly.
It was like a never-ending round. Again and again, he kept breaking right where old cracks had been mended. Shattering like glass at the slightest touch, unable to think past the fact that he just wanted out of all of this, even if it meant killing her and doing what those bastards wanted him to do.
He found himself hoarsely pleading when he felt the tears begin to subside, felt his body slacken as the energy seemed to drain out of him, "Why? Over and over, doing this... just let me go. I'm not a danger to you people anymore. Just let me go. Please. No more..."
His words faded into silence and the two of them sat there, one leaning against the other, unable to find the strength to move away even if he wanted to. He knew it wasn't a good thing to start to rely on this woman who had been the reason this was being done to him. He knew that he should continue to fight back and to resist as much as he could against the lull, that bit of safety that he could feel whenever those arms were holding him. But he was tired... so tired...
Even if he maintained his grip on the knife, even as she gently kissed his head before smoothing back his dark hair, matted down with dirt, blood... who knew what else, and quietly told him, admitting to the one thing that he had already figured out, "Not true, young master. Now, more than ever, you are a true threat to our organization. Until you prove your loyalty, display it in a signature of blood."
-End of Scene-
...
I FEEL REPETITIVE!
|D
>.>;;;;
Yeaaaaaaaaah.
Vermouth is weird.
Dun ask me whyyyyyy this is going on.
Well, I do know why.
But I ain't sayin' nothin'
|D
.
Day/Theme: February 11th - "Confess and be hanged"
Series: Magic Kaitou
Character/Pairing: Kuroba Kaito, Vermouth
Rating: R
He had no idea why she kept doing those sorts of things.
It was worse on the days that he could actually keep himself together--whether it was because he was able to stay in that cell that they called a room without having his name called for yet another blood sport or because random moments of coherency was typical when one underwent such things despite how much he wanted to retreat away from reality whenever those moments came. And they came so much more frequently as time went on. It was a frightening though, almost as though the fact that he was becoming a little more aware of his surroundings meant that he was actually becoming used to these sort of things--
Only Kaito firmly put those thoughts from his mind and always continued to try to think of, yet again, another escape route that would actually work. He couldn't afford to dwell on the fact that he may have become desensitized to the horrors that he was exposed to--more than just being thrown into the arena, having to put down yet another human being who had been tossed in just the same as he was.
There were also the moments of pure and utter silence where all Kaito had was the four walls around him--six if one actually though of the floor and ceiling a "wall"--and the sounds of his own breathing and his own heart beating, continuing to persistently hammer against his chest as he tried not to think too hard about the hearts that just stopped. He had no idea how those people achieved that kind of silence because after a certain amount of time, there would be such loud clamber of noise that the thief was nearly deafen.
Another way to torment those they wanted to break, he would tell himself, knowing without a doubt that that was their goal.
It was just like that one man, the man whose face--no, not face... there wasn't a face anymore, just a gory mess that came because he hadn't--what he had said about keeping the ones they wanted to eventually make theirs. They wouldn't kill him. They couldn't, it seemed like, no matter how many times they threw him into that pit.
Partly because he wouldn't allow himself to simply take death as it came.
Partly because she seemed to have a personal interest in him.
It didn't take the thief long to realize just how much pull that woman in black had in the ranks. The fact that she could freely come and go as she pleased, carrying whatever she pleased--food, water, purse... gun. No one questioned her, and she seemed quite willing to let them carry on about their business.
And she visited quite often, truth be told. Maybe that way why he hadn't gone completely insane. He had that person to focus in on, to keep his mind intact, rebuilding what had been broken over the course of time--just how long had it been since he was first brought into this hell hole, this place that reeked of death and blood and filth and--and keeping himself as together as he could. There was nothing he could do to salvage that part of himself that had truly been destroyed--or not destroyed but maybe broken and then healed into something unrecognizable; the thing that made him stay sitting up with his back to the corner, curled up and watching the shadows for any movement, jumping at the slightest sound, the slightest touch of air--
It was all he could do to keep himself together some days, just laying there and trying to remember simple little magic tricks to at least keep his mind from slipping back into that torrent of blood and--
Sometimes it was the anger that kept him centered. The anger he felt for the injustice done to his family, to his guardian, to he himself. It was the anger that he only allowed to truly come into being whenever she was in the room with him, wanting to lash out but keeping himself in check, especially when she brought in a weapon with her. She wanted him to take justice in such a way, the same way he had to keep surviving in that pit that he kept getting tossed into. It wasn't the way he wanted to do things, though. He never wanted revenge in such a way. Find the bad guys, expose them, destroy what it was that they sought--that had been all he had wanted.
And Jii had showed him how foolish such thinking was, understanding only too well how a person truly was when they were pushed into a corner with no where to go. Murderous. Instinctive. Completely without morals or even something as simple as thought. They killed to survive. They did anything to survive.
Kaito wondered some nights--was it night or was it day? one month or the other? he lost track so long ago--if Jii actually knew all of this first hand.
From being exactly where his young master was at the moment.
Sitting across from a woman in black, eyeing the knife she had brought this time--a wicked-looking blade with just the right kind of tip to stab between the ribs and then jerk up in order to puncture the heart--or if one wanted to be a bit more cruel, the lung.
A person could still breathe with just one lung, after all.
He'd even watched once as a man died, drowning, suffocating on his own blood because he could still breathe and continued to fight despite the blood pooling into his lungs.
It was such a tempting offer, but as always since she first began her little games, Kaito only looked away, looked straight into her eyes, glaring, clenching his teeth and his fists as he kept himself from slipping back into the incoherent mess that he kept slipping back into.
And as always, her lips quirked upward just slightly, barely noticeable if one wasn't a student of the man who had perfected the art of masking anything and everything, before she spoke, voice lilting and retaining a soothing quality that Kaito was loathed to admit to even himself, "You're looking surprisingly well, Kaito-kun."
He didn't even deign that with an answer, only looking away from her for a moment to look to the tray of food that was left for him every night.
Barely anything had been touched.
The woman tsked a the sight, leaning over in her seat in just a way that had Kaito pressing his fists into his thighs to keep from reacting. Too close, much too close. And not only that, but the knife was right there, glinting at him with a gleam of silver that caught onto the earrings she was wearing that night--day--something.
He squeezed his eyes shut and struggled to breathe, feeling dizzy with the onslaught of memories of similar deaths to the one he could picture occurring right there and then. He wouldn't. He wouldn't give into that sort of thing. It wouldn't do anything. Being who she was, what she could be, it could be a test. All a test. To prove that he could be broken, could be trained to be their lap dog. A kind of right of passage where the newest human-weapon disposes of the one who trained them, maybe?
He wouldn't give them the satisfaction.
Despite the fact that he kept surviving, he could easily say that he would rather die.
Even if the temptation was oh so strong. For what she'd done to him, for what she probably had done to others--
"Do you know, Kaito-kun," came her voice again, this time closer. Much too close for his tastes, causing his body to tremble as he tried to keep himself from bolting away from her, from scrambling to the nearest corner and assuming the position his body took to mean safety. "The difference between a murderer and a survivor?"
Kaito's eyes shot open at that as he stared, wide-eyed as the blonde picked at the food that he had mostly ignored.
He knew only too well the answer.
And she never gave him the answer to her question, knowing that he already knew.
He quickly looked away from her again, hunching his shoulders that continued to shake as he felt his nails dig into his palms as he closed his eyes and tried to find again that center where he could think for himself and not get trapped in the mire of thoughts of the glint of silver on the only table in the room and the blood that could come if he'd just reach out--blood that came time and time again every time he was put into that pit with someone else who wanted to survive. A man, a woman, a kid like him, younger sometimes, over and over again. Faces staring, glaring, blown to pieces because he couldn't move fast enough, because he didn't understand what the price was--
Somehow he never realized when exactly his hands had gone to his head as he tried to keep the thoughts from flooding him, nor did he notice the woman's touch on his face until she had him facing her, her fingers holding his chin up so she could could stare into his eyes which had come open but hadn't seen until they met such dark a color--
He jerked away from her and leaped to his feet, hand closing around the knife and holding it out in a tight grip and he backed up against the wall, heaving heavy pants as if it had been an exertion, as though it had cost him something to have made that room.
Maybe it had.
But she just looked up at him with a raised eyebrow and asked, "Now, young master, what do you think you're going to do with that knife?"
She was... amused.
And Kaito could see why. The way his whole body shook, running from the core of his being to the very hand that the knife was being clutched in. It would have been impossible to make an assault even if he wished it, if he felt threatened--
But he did feel threatened. Every time she walked in and seemed to offer him a chance to either kill her or himself.
And he never thought about the latter, never even once thought that he could do it himself, always instead thinking that he could escape after he left her body in that cell for those men to discover when they came to toss him into the pit again.
Which only went to prove...
He screwed his eyes shut as he leaned back against the wall, arm slowly coming down to his side as he bowed his head and sunk to the floor, boneless, feeling the tears come again no matter how much he scolded himself for going against what he swore to himself he would never do again. Not in front of that woman. Not when she kept wrapping her arms around him like the woman she had once been, looking after her master's son whenever he was busy with his other pupil--memories buried so long ago resurfacing when Kaito didn't want them most.
When he could feel her arms around him, feel her hand rub at his back and brushing at his hair, and hear her voice murmur those words of comfort that rang so hallowly in that room of concrete and metal.
When he still had a grip on that knife and could, in his mind, see himself ending it right there, with her blood on his hands as well.
Even when she was ready for him to take that sort of action.
Face pressed into her shoulder, not able to control himself--there was no such thing as Poker Face, was there? all an illusion, only for an audience that no longer existed because they had only been there to watch a thief steal a gem, not kill people, not continuing to kill people, not wanting to drive that knife right into her gut--
He found himself choking out between the tears, a mantra that he repeated over and over again in a whisper, "I won't do it. I won't do it. I won't..."
"Shh..." Vemouth said quietly.
It was like a never-ending round. Again and again, he kept breaking right where old cracks had been mended. Shattering like glass at the slightest touch, unable to think past the fact that he just wanted out of all of this, even if it meant killing her and doing what those bastards wanted him to do.
He found himself hoarsely pleading when he felt the tears begin to subside, felt his body slacken as the energy seemed to drain out of him, "Why? Over and over, doing this... just let me go. I'm not a danger to you people anymore. Just let me go. Please. No more..."
His words faded into silence and the two of them sat there, one leaning against the other, unable to find the strength to move away even if he wanted to. He knew it wasn't a good thing to start to rely on this woman who had been the reason this was being done to him. He knew that he should continue to fight back and to resist as much as he could against the lull, that bit of safety that he could feel whenever those arms were holding him. But he was tired... so tired...
Even if he maintained his grip on the knife, even as she gently kissed his head before smoothing back his dark hair, matted down with dirt, blood... who knew what else, and quietly told him, admitting to the one thing that he had already figured out, "Not true, young master. Now, more than ever, you are a true threat to our organization. Until you prove your loyalty, display it in a signature of blood."
-End of Scene-
...
I FEEL REPETITIVE!
|D
>.>;;;;
Yeaaaaaaaaah.
Vermouth is weird.
Dun ask me whyyyyyy this is going on.
Well, I do know why.
But I ain't sayin' nothin'
|D
.