tampered | (no subject)

(no subject)

When; The early, early morning hours of April 4th
Rating; I'm guessing R?
Characters; Yakushi Kabuto

red_eye_medic , Pyramid Head

redhorror
Summary; Kabuto has an unexpected house guest. Lets see how hospitable he can be.
Log;
It had been an excruciatingly long day. One of the longest he could remember since arriving in the City. He was woken early that day by Orochimaru, who had demanded immediate research. Normally this would be fine, something the medic would be used to. But the research he had ordered was of the nature as to demand every ounce of his attention for hours. And hours.

Luckily for him, he had gotten it done. Granted, it was after nightfall before the last documents were filled out, but it was done. One less thing he'd need to concern himself with the next day. He returned to the Oto apartment, however, to find Sakon falling all over himself, trying to cook... and as one of his wards, he felt obligated to keep Sakon from burning the building down.

And dinner was cooked, finished after midnight really. Sakon had slide back to wherever it was he went at night, leaving Kabuto with the dishes. Finally finding a quiet moment, he flipped a switch on his computer to begin recording his thoughts while finishing the filthy dishes...

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Subtley at first, then perhaps more noticeably, the sounds of the City entire began to fade into silence.

The occasional streetlight began, one by one, to become choked off with a crawling, consuming darkness.

The darkness spread, and deepened until nothing beyond the pool of light caste by the screen became the only perceivable amount of space within the darkened city.

Hissing, creeping, corruption spread along the walls like a stain. Rust, and decay choked off all vestiges of comfort and home.

At the very edges of this caste light the darkness moved; shifted, melted, stretched and ran.
The writhing mass then coalesced into a form.

The monster jerked, and twitched, but seemed otherwise unphased as it raised itself to it's feet. Turning back, it drew forth it's nine-foot steel blade from the darkness beyond.

The blade hit the floor with a reverberating, metallic thud, and the Executioner set off, the tell-tale scream and grind of his slow gait heralding his arrival; Relentless, remorseless.

The Red Pyramid, Right Hand, Great Blade.
He lived in it, moved through it, was a part of it.

.....And through the darkness, he could hear a smell. See a sound.

The call and response of the condemned.

Traitor

Liar

Guilty

As the darkness moved down the street, Kabuto tried to concentrate on the task at hand. He resumed speaking what was on his mind, detailing the work he'd done that day, and speculating on the uses thereof. But it wouldn't go away.

The whispers.

He walked to the window, eyes staring into the darkness as it enveloped the street below. Kabuto slowly closed the window, and then his eyes. Maybe it was his imagination, and hopefully it'd go away...

Back to the dishes. Back to talking.

The Red Guard advanced, but never broke the halting, slow pace.

*Thump...scrrreeeeeccchh..* As the blade through sparks against the rough stone.

*Thump...Scrrreeeeecchh..* His grey-skinned, gnarled right hand extended to point at the condemned.
He does not speak, for he has forgotten how, but that pointing hand says enough.

It tells of the secrets that the condemned holds, and the forboding promise to make good on those pleas for redemption.

The pointing hand says; It is your turn, now

The darkness was clamoring in many-tongued silence.
It whispered to itself, and the condemned about things unknown, unremembered.
The fear. The guilt. The pain that Kabuto had inflicted on so many.

Like increasing air pressure, these things crowded the mind, seeking a call and response.

The helmet swiveled to regard the lonely light in the window above the street, before the curtains were drawn.
Yet, the Executioner was a thing of darkness, and where darkness held sway, so did he.

Blackness so profound, it shamed even the cold night sky opened before the relentless, halting gait of the Executioner.
Stepping into one side of shadow, the monster stepped out again through another.

Time and space were nothing but perception. Perception, can be altered easily, and thus the Red Guard could alter, and be altered as well.
Without a perceivable change in pace, the Executioner moved from off the street, to the edge of the crawling, decaying darkness that seeped through the walls, the floor, the very mortar of the room the Pilgrim inhabited.

The Red Guard had been sent to find this particular predator.

Judge, Jury and Executioner were in accord; the Pilgrim must now be gathered.

"Excuse me."

Kabuto dropped the dishes back into the sink, and laid the headset gingerly by the computer.

As he turned, his eyes narrowed as they caught the darkness, the rust, the decay that was swallowing the apartment. The sound of heavy metal dragging.

A wave of cold dread fell over him, a shiver flying up his back as the echoes and accusations resounded louder and clearer in his ears and mind. Traitor. Liar. Guilty.

Kabuto's chakra knife flared, as he stepped slowly into the main room, where his guest awaited him.

The Darkened decay skittered and hissed across the room to devour the apartement....and as it oozed over the floor, Darkness also could feel the cracks forming at the edges of the condemned's consciousness.
The Red Guard took one lumbering step, then another feeling those cracks widen and the press of memories begin to spill forth.

Trust

Friendship

The corruption of innocents

You were not even capable of saving your tainted Master!

The cracks bled images. A lifetime, or a moment, there was no difference anymore.
Not down here.

Down in the darkness.

Down in the decay of sin.

The seven foot abberation reached one gnarled nail-less hand out with surprising speed for a creature so massive, to fist in the condemned's hair.

The quickness of the abomination's grasp took Kabuto completely unawares, the twisted digits scraping themselves through the silver hair and across the scalp. Kabuto gritted his teeth and tried with all he was to bring his chakra knife to the creature's arm as the intruder's grip tightened.

But the screams were too loud. The darkness too black. The rust and decay to nauseating.

Sinner.

The voices of them all, the ones he'd deceived, the ones he'd killed, the ones he'd tormented... they all rang out in his head.

The soul-blade sank into the Executioner's forearm.
Chunks of...rust? Blood? Perhaps both dripped in chunks from the wound, but the Red Guard was unphased.

....But a mechanical growl emanated from the metal helmet, and the Red Guard raised the hilt of his blade, and in one thrust, buried a foot of the metal into the floor.

The roar of voices, shrieking accusation, and truth through the condemned's mind rose to a crescendo as the blade sank into the floor.

Hands now unencumbered, the Executioner raised his meaty fist, and slammed it into the condemned's midsection.

The chakra scalpel flickered, and died to nothing, as Kabuto's eyes grew wide with horror... the voices were too much. Each of them, all a seperate entity that Kabuto had so willingly put an end to, now returned to shriek his sins back at him.

Killed for nothing but amusement and curiousity

And then the fist of the Executioner drove itself into Kabuto's stomach. Hard and fast, the bloodred fist smashed into his abdomen, Kabuto doubled over, wretching all of the floor. The other hand held tightly in his silverhair, bits of scalp and strands of hair loosing themselves as the force of the strike tried to move him from his position.

SEE YOUR SIN

The cracks in his mind widened, and the shrieking voices, the torrent of memories spilled forth.
Burning, ravaging invasion of her memory, as the Red Guard reached down inside his past and pulled out the unremembered guilt.

The Executioner's free hand extended out beside him as the condemned wretched uncontrollably.
The gray gnarled hand opened, palm down over the rotting darkness

...And the darkness responded.

Tendrils, like living extensions of the Executioner himself broke through the flesh of his arm to the accompaniment of a spray of rusted blood.
The tendrils sprouted extensions; tiny mental barbs bloomed like macabre flowers along the wiry tendrils.

Almost lovingly, the Executioner brought the hand with snaking tendrils of barb wire crawling along it to the condemned's face, and almost tenderly drew his cold, knotted fingers across Kabuto's face, using the hand fisted in his hair to keep the young man upright.

The tendrils squealed; a sound like the shriek of tightened cable emitted from them as they snaked over his arm, and reached to coil themselves around the condemned's neck, crept along his chest, and down his arms to wrap around his wrists.

Suddenly, with a sharp jerk, the wires jerked the condemed's wrists wide to hold him nearly spread-eagled.

The Executioner's hand fell away as more wire burst from his other arm to wrap around her ankles.

FEEL your sin!

The wires responded to their master, and forced the condemned upright, then turned Kabuto to face away from the Executioner.

With a sharp jerk, the Red Guard ripped the back of the young man's shirt to expose his back.

Unhurried, the monster reached for the Great Blade....

...And with another show of inhuman speed, drew the nine foot column of sharpened steel across the condemend's bare back.
Blood burst forth under the scoring lash, and the wires cooed happily at the taste of blood...

Five wounds.....five lashes.

As the red with rot barbed wires dg themself into Kabuto's tender flesh, the lifted, suspended, and pulled him in so many directions, ligaments popping, joints tearing...

and then the primitive sword drew a scarlet line down his exposed back. The rust and decay spread into the wound, burning as would hellfire as the barbed wire drew itself tighter still... he would pay for his sins, he would atone for them in his own blood.

Kabuto wasn't one to cry, or beg for mercy... but this creature would break him.

This was more familiar.
The condemned was finally quiet.
Finally accepting of his judgment.

...And so, the Executioner went straight back to business.
Calm, and clinical. Done with cruelty for there was no longer need.

The condemned did not weep for the pain. For the loss, or in repentance, yet the lack of resistance showed the Pilgrim's acceptance of his assigned role.
The Executioner seemed to nod the great razor-edged helmet once, as if to say; Now, you understand.

The wires moved like a nest of living things; squealing and writhing about the condemned to bind him tight.

The Great Blade was aligned once more with the condemned's back, and drawn across in the opposite direction from the first lash.

Again the blade sliced flesh, and cut muscle....and again....and again...
Until the pattern on Kabuto's back was a perfect copy for the Pilgrim's sigil.

Thus marked, the Executioner lowered the blade, and let the wires lower Kabuto to the floor. Squealing joyously at the blood flow, they squirmed and writhed across the condemned's body to bathe themselves in it.

The Executioner shushed them, and used one arm to grasp the wires tightly. More chunky blood fell from his damaged hand, but still the Red Guard pulled him down from his suspended position, and twined the snaking wires into one large cable, then hefted his burden over his shoulder.

Bleeding, and weak, it was no trouble to gather his burden, and his weapon up, one over his left shoulder, and the other dragging behind with the halting grinding noise the Executioner was accustomed to.
The dark decay reversed itself, and receded as the Red Gaurd's footsteps did.

Darkness fading back into the night.

JUDGMENT ALWAYS FINDS YOU

((OOC: Done, or do you want to add more?))

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