(no subject)
Characters: Zombie (fewterer). Open to confirmed participants to the plotting post so they can log any after events if they want.
Location: Bazaar
Rating: PG-13
Summary: "Zombie" spends some time in the bazaar.
Zombie had been away ever since he got out of the 4th floor. He made a quick stop at the butcher's and his house to pick up some ammo and leave a note for Eyepatch telling him to run the store while he was gone. It didn't state when he'd be back, but at the time he couldn't even think when he could come back. He hadn't been sleeping properly, and that voice in his head was getting louder and stronger. He couldn't get that memory out of his head. It just played over and over, and he kept hearing that girl in his arms repeat her previous words to him.
"It doesn't hurt anymore."
How could she say that? She must have been lying; he didn't deserve a lie like that. She must have cared for him as he cared for her. He could still feel the sensation as if he was still holding her in his arms. The blood and the organs rubbing against his body as she died in his arms...how would he ever be able to forget this? At the same time he didn't want to forget because he felt he deserved to be punished for what he did. That still didn't stop that part of him from wishing he'd forget everything and run away from it all.
He had been living in various parts of the tree where a lot of the large animals and bugs thrived. It took him a few days to let himself eat, but once he killed that giant squirrel, it was hard for him to get himself to eat. Why was he living? He didn't deserve to be alive. Also killing had suddenly become hard to do. Not because he felt bad for killing some animal, but because that voice inside his head got too excited in powerful. He had to force that voice down, avoid the triggers as much as possible.
He was losing control of himself. He never wanted it to happen, but Raise used to tell him this sort of thing. He'd tell himself it wouldn't happen to him, but now it was. It was a constant struggle to keep the voice quiet for even an hour. Even the voice was gaining a more physical control over his senses. Gunpowder and blood were intoxicating to him, and he craved them more than he could have imagined. He had become addicted to these things, and his mind starting fixating on them whenever his mind was idle.
He shook his head, snarling to get the thoughts out of his mind. His mind finally did get a distraction when some large crab/bug like creature swung its claw at him. He jumped to another branch, pulling out his guns. He fired at the creature's shell, but the bullets could pierce through. He cursed, trying to find another strategy to at least get this thing off his tail.
He fired a few more shots, and then he could feel that tension growing inside him. He tried his best to calm it down, but it wasn't working. His body was acting on someone else's commands.
"Let me take care of it, Master." He said out loud, but it wasn't him. This was the first time the voice had used his own body to speak.
"No, go away." He said back, trying to regain control and focus over himself.
"You're weak and distracted, so now let me have some fun." After he heard those words, everything went black. The dog inside him had won and taken over. He was weak to it now, and he had lost control over his body and himself.
--
It had taken a year for what Zombie simply wrote off as a voice in his head a year to reach his point. He still had no name, but maybe after all this he would finally get the attention he wanted. After all, it was no fair that their life was so boring. All the memories they basically had showed them fighting and killing, so why would Zombie let himself become some regular civilian? He was a monster, and monsters kill and enjoy it.
He jumped on the roof tops of the bazaar at its peak morning hours. He saw how everyone mingled between the area, and all he could see were targets on their backs. He would show his master to accept the monster he was, and that killing is simply what they were made for.
"Master, let's have some fun." He knew he wouldn't get a response from Zombie, but at least he could say he tried.
He pulled out the guns and started opening fire at the people below him. They were so many, and the screams only made him stronger and more excited. He saw the panic and it brought him to a state of manic laughter. The people were running like rats when sewers were being flooded, and he found this all too amusing. He jumped roof top to roof top, firing his guns at the people below him. This was far too easy, and the smell of gun powder was intoxicating his senses. The smell of blood and death was filling the air, and a wave of pleasure went through his spine. This was what being truly alive felt like, he thought. He had to reload his guns, and so he did, firing and moving around the bazaar as he watched the people panic.
Eventually he did run out of ammo, so he threw the guns off to the side and jumped on the ground. He saw people terrified at him, and no one dared approached him in that first few seconds. He laughed at the people before he started lunging at them, finishing them off by hand. He punched his fist through some of the people, pulling out their organs before he moved onto the next person. He's kick some people down and move on again. This was all to hilarious and nothing was stopping him.
Some people did try to fight back, but it was no use. He merely laughed at them, spitting blood in their face or throwing an organ at them from a body he had just mutilated. One woman even got a nice magic trick of having him catch a bullet in his hand, laughing after to show it didn't hurt him. Some people did get some punches into him, but he healed. All the excitement he was getting took away any sort of supposed pain he was feeling.
He felt a presence behind him, and so he turned around. It was the large crab/bug once again He snarled, as this was either going to be a pain in the ass or fun. It turned out to be a pain in the ass when it used one of its claws to pick him up. The claws broke all his bones in his body neck down. He hissed not at the pain, but at being constrained.
"Master," he called out. "Do I deserve a name now?" He was losing control over the body, and soon enough Zombie would have to get them out of this. Not that he could, and death just didn't seem to be his thing.
"Cerberus, that name will do." He said before the crab ripped out his spine, instantly killing them. The crab soon crawled back up to its home, leaving the bazaar finally at peace.
It doesn't hurt anymore.
Location: Bazaar
Rating: PG-13
Summary: "Zombie" spends some time in the bazaar.
Zombie had been away ever since he got out of the 4th floor. He made a quick stop at the butcher's and his house to pick up some ammo and leave a note for Eyepatch telling him to run the store while he was gone. It didn't state when he'd be back, but at the time he couldn't even think when he could come back. He hadn't been sleeping properly, and that voice in his head was getting louder and stronger. He couldn't get that memory out of his head. It just played over and over, and he kept hearing that girl in his arms repeat her previous words to him.
"It doesn't hurt anymore."
How could she say that? She must have been lying; he didn't deserve a lie like that. She must have cared for him as he cared for her. He could still feel the sensation as if he was still holding her in his arms. The blood and the organs rubbing against his body as she died in his arms...how would he ever be able to forget this? At the same time he didn't want to forget because he felt he deserved to be punished for what he did. That still didn't stop that part of him from wishing he'd forget everything and run away from it all.
He had been living in various parts of the tree where a lot of the large animals and bugs thrived. It took him a few days to let himself eat, but once he killed that giant squirrel, it was hard for him to get himself to eat. Why was he living? He didn't deserve to be alive. Also killing had suddenly become hard to do. Not because he felt bad for killing some animal, but because that voice inside his head got too excited in powerful. He had to force that voice down, avoid the triggers as much as possible.
He was losing control of himself. He never wanted it to happen, but Raise used to tell him this sort of thing. He'd tell himself it wouldn't happen to him, but now it was. It was a constant struggle to keep the voice quiet for even an hour. Even the voice was gaining a more physical control over his senses. Gunpowder and blood were intoxicating to him, and he craved them more than he could have imagined. He had become addicted to these things, and his mind starting fixating on them whenever his mind was idle.
He shook his head, snarling to get the thoughts out of his mind. His mind finally did get a distraction when some large crab/bug like creature swung its claw at him. He jumped to another branch, pulling out his guns. He fired at the creature's shell, but the bullets could pierce through. He cursed, trying to find another strategy to at least get this thing off his tail.
He fired a few more shots, and then he could feel that tension growing inside him. He tried his best to calm it down, but it wasn't working. His body was acting on someone else's commands.
"Let me take care of it, Master." He said out loud, but it wasn't him. This was the first time the voice had used his own body to speak.
"No, go away." He said back, trying to regain control and focus over himself.
"You're weak and distracted, so now let me have some fun." After he heard those words, everything went black. The dog inside him had won and taken over. He was weak to it now, and he had lost control over his body and himself.
--
It had taken a year for what Zombie simply wrote off as a voice in his head a year to reach his point. He still had no name, but maybe after all this he would finally get the attention he wanted. After all, it was no fair that their life was so boring. All the memories they basically had showed them fighting and killing, so why would Zombie let himself become some regular civilian? He was a monster, and monsters kill and enjoy it.
He jumped on the roof tops of the bazaar at its peak morning hours. He saw how everyone mingled between the area, and all he could see were targets on their backs. He would show his master to accept the monster he was, and that killing is simply what they were made for.
"Master, let's have some fun." He knew he wouldn't get a response from Zombie, but at least he could say he tried.
He pulled out the guns and started opening fire at the people below him. They were so many, and the screams only made him stronger and more excited. He saw the panic and it brought him to a state of manic laughter. The people were running like rats when sewers were being flooded, and he found this all too amusing. He jumped roof top to roof top, firing his guns at the people below him. This was far too easy, and the smell of gun powder was intoxicating his senses. The smell of blood and death was filling the air, and a wave of pleasure went through his spine. This was what being truly alive felt like, he thought. He had to reload his guns, and so he did, firing and moving around the bazaar as he watched the people panic.
Eventually he did run out of ammo, so he threw the guns off to the side and jumped on the ground. He saw people terrified at him, and no one dared approached him in that first few seconds. He laughed at the people before he started lunging at them, finishing them off by hand. He punched his fist through some of the people, pulling out their organs before he moved onto the next person. He's kick some people down and move on again. This was all to hilarious and nothing was stopping him.
Some people did try to fight back, but it was no use. He merely laughed at them, spitting blood in their face or throwing an organ at them from a body he had just mutilated. One woman even got a nice magic trick of having him catch a bullet in his hand, laughing after to show it didn't hurt him. Some people did get some punches into him, but he healed. All the excitement he was getting took away any sort of supposed pain he was feeling.
He felt a presence behind him, and so he turned around. It was the large crab/bug once again He snarled, as this was either going to be a pain in the ass or fun. It turned out to be a pain in the ass when it used one of its claws to pick him up. The claws broke all his bones in his body neck down. He hissed not at the pain, but at being constrained.
"Master," he called out. "Do I deserve a name now?" He was losing control over the body, and soon enough Zombie would have to get them out of this. Not that he could, and death just didn't seem to be his thing.
"Cerberus, that name will do." He said before the crab ripped out his spine, instantly killing them. The crab soon crawled back up to its home, leaving the bazaar finally at peace.
It doesn't hurt anymore.