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tampered2006-08-23 01:53 am
tomorrowsroad.livejournal.com) wrote in tampered2006-08-23 01:53 am
Log; Complete
When; Shortly after midnight on the 22nd (curse day)
Rating; Mm...I think I'll go with PG.
Characters; Hidaka Ken (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
tomorrowsroad)
Summary; Being in the City is slowly driving Ken out of his mind. He isn't one to just sit still, enjoy the peace. Having gone without receiving any kind of mission for some time now, he finally snaps. It isn't much help that the curse happened to affect him; he couldn't remove his bugnuks. So, slipping away from his & Omi's apartment, he heads to the underworld. -- He'll return some time today (the 23rd) with blood on his skin and clothing. Yay for NPCs and monsters.
A/N; Er, again, the Ken I'm playing here is post-first season Weiss Kreuz. I actually just read the translations for the drama CDs and discovered that Ken is not as happy-go-lucky and such that I knew him to be. So, just saying, FYI. In case. Or something. >_>;;;
Log;
In the City, night never truly bares its face. Instead of resting peacefully in their bed, people continue to filter through the streets, some of them brand new to the strange world, and others merely pressing on, hoping to survive yet another day. Many businesses remain lit, their registers and hands itching for yet another sale, just one more victim to grasp with sugar-coated promises of the 'perfect item.'
All of it is sickening; a mindless repetition. Some of the inhabitants party their lives away. Others fester in their own worry, rotting away until the another curse comes along, inviting itself to become their only fuel for another attempt to grope to find that slim chance for an escape. To many, the countdown was simply that: a steady current, a warning, a notice that stated, "Don't bother trying to stop me!" or perhaps one of those stupid clichés such as, "Life your life to the fullest! Live today as though tomorrow will never come!"
Sure. Everyone wanted out. Ken himself, included. He didn't understand what the City was all about, despite the explanations; a part of him didn't care. The known fact that the worlds were ending only surprised him by a fraction. So what if they were? Wasn't the world crumbling already? With the types of people that lived within it, Ken wouldn't hesitate to say that he was surprised that the world wasn't gone already. But still, Ken would fight. He turned a blind-eye to the City's chaos. After living such a life where almost anything could, and did happen, he became numb to the events surrounding him. Love was like a disease, malignant, or almost worthless; friendship usually led to betrayal.
Ken briefly thought of Omi, passing a glance to him, fast asleep on the bed across from his own. Ken didn't quite understand how he was able to get to sleep so early every night; especially in a place like this. Ken's gaze shifted to his hands. A sliver of the moon from the window was the room's only source of light. Ken idly noticed how the tips of the blades within his gloves just barely peeked out from beneath the worn, dark brown fabric. They sparkled in the scarcely lit room. He wanted to laugh; it was a bitter sensation, one that made Ken's head throb and his hands tremble.
Without a second thought, Ken silently exited the apartment that he and Omi shared. He hoped the boy wouldn't come after him. Ken knew that he wouldn't hesitate to strike him down, if he attempted to coax Ken back into the room, to get him to calm down.
The City was quieter than Ken would've expected. Although it was past midnight, finding a party, or a few drunks out on the streets, or even friends mingling, none of it came as a surprise anymore. The City was always running, always breathing. Ken supposed he was thankful that tonight wasn't as lively as usual. ...Or maybe, he wasn't. Maybe he'd be lucky and cross paths with someone committing a crime.
The way to the underground portion of the City wasn't too difficult to find. A well-rounded collection of rumors and tales already made their way past Ken's ears: Stories about Circus Carnivore, and the sheer insanity that often displayed itself; the desperate and needy folk, clawing through dirt-ridden alleyways in hopes to find a source of light, a way up. Ken heard all about the whores with their caked make-up, and the decaying buildings with flickering neon signs, which were the only homes they ever knew of. Then, there were the monsters. Ken heard about them, first. Those who told him held such an immense fear in their eyes; thick and sharp, they spoke as though falling head-first into a vivid memory, bound & gagged with no means for turning back. One man hugged himself, and Ken saw a shiver prickle its way along pale, bare arms.
Aside from having no simple way to escape, the City was just like any other.
Ken stepped off the platform of the subway, a keen gaze taking in anything and everything possible. At first there was nothing. The air felt thick with dust, blood, smoke, and decay; a myriad of potent aromas and of death itself. An echo of metal clashing with metal directed Ken's attention to the left, and without a guess of what the source was, he headed down one of many paths, pausing so often to pick up the sound and it's location.
The closer Ken drew to the steady clang of metal, the louder it grew. Fragments of light from the City above filtered through the manholes and gutters that littered the streets, giving Ken just enough light to see by. The sound of rustling paper, and what seemed to be plastic bags, made Ken stop and listen. He strained his ears over the distant echoes of strange music, metal upon metal, and the sporadic cry for help. Ken's breath came short while he did so; his pulse continued to race, thundering between his ears.
No one would be able to stop him this time. Not Omi, not the law (especially in this sort of place), not his team members; not even Kritiker. No one. Ken knew well enough what he wanted to do, and well-aware of the laws he was about to break. Take a life other than your intended target, and you are nothing but a common murderer. ...but that wasn't about to stop him. Who would know? He and Omi already deduced that Kritiker - as well as Esstet, even - clearly, had nothing to do with the City. While it definitely felt like someones idea of a sadistic joke, the City was beyond their doing.
Ken paused again, this time clenching his fists. The metal claws made a soft shink! as they released from their sheathes. Something was nearby. Ken could practically smell the bitter stench of fresh blood in the air.
While his head continued to throb from a racing pulse, Ken's hands trembled slightly with anticipation, his blood beginning to boil. There isn't much to see down the adjacent alley, but the wait is half the fun. Whether it'd take a few minutes or the entire night, Ken refused to return to his shared apartment until his mind was black from satisfaction, his opponents sliced into ribbons.
Rating; Mm...I think I'll go with PG.
Characters; Hidaka Ken (
tomorrowsroad)Summary; Being in the City is slowly driving Ken out of his mind. He isn't one to just sit still, enjoy the peace. Having gone without receiving any kind of mission for some time now, he finally snaps. It isn't much help that the curse happened to affect him; he couldn't remove his bugnuks. So, slipping away from his & Omi's apartment, he heads to the underworld. -- He'll return some time today (the 23rd) with blood on his skin and clothing. Yay for NPCs and monsters.
A/N; Er, again, the Ken I'm playing here is post-first season Weiss Kreuz. I actually just read the translations for the drama CDs and discovered that Ken is not as happy-go-lucky and such that I knew him to be. So, just saying, FYI. In case. Or something. >_>;;;
Log;
In the City, night never truly bares its face. Instead of resting peacefully in their bed, people continue to filter through the streets, some of them brand new to the strange world, and others merely pressing on, hoping to survive yet another day. Many businesses remain lit, their registers and hands itching for yet another sale, just one more victim to grasp with sugar-coated promises of the 'perfect item.'
All of it is sickening; a mindless repetition. Some of the inhabitants party their lives away. Others fester in their own worry, rotting away until the another curse comes along, inviting itself to become their only fuel for another attempt to grope to find that slim chance for an escape. To many, the countdown was simply that: a steady current, a warning, a notice that stated, "Don't bother trying to stop me!" or perhaps one of those stupid clichés such as, "Life your life to the fullest! Live today as though tomorrow will never come!"
Sure. Everyone wanted out. Ken himself, included. He didn't understand what the City was all about, despite the explanations; a part of him didn't care. The known fact that the worlds were ending only surprised him by a fraction. So what if they were? Wasn't the world crumbling already? With the types of people that lived within it, Ken wouldn't hesitate to say that he was surprised that the world wasn't gone already. But still, Ken would fight. He turned a blind-eye to the City's chaos. After living such a life where almost anything could, and did happen, he became numb to the events surrounding him. Love was like a disease, malignant, or almost worthless; friendship usually led to betrayal.
Ken briefly thought of Omi, passing a glance to him, fast asleep on the bed across from his own. Ken didn't quite understand how he was able to get to sleep so early every night; especially in a place like this. Ken's gaze shifted to his hands. A sliver of the moon from the window was the room's only source of light. Ken idly noticed how the tips of the blades within his gloves just barely peeked out from beneath the worn, dark brown fabric. They sparkled in the scarcely lit room. He wanted to laugh; it was a bitter sensation, one that made Ken's head throb and his hands tremble.
Without a second thought, Ken silently exited the apartment that he and Omi shared. He hoped the boy wouldn't come after him. Ken knew that he wouldn't hesitate to strike him down, if he attempted to coax Ken back into the room, to get him to calm down.
The City was quieter than Ken would've expected. Although it was past midnight, finding a party, or a few drunks out on the streets, or even friends mingling, none of it came as a surprise anymore. The City was always running, always breathing. Ken supposed he was thankful that tonight wasn't as lively as usual. ...Or maybe, he wasn't. Maybe he'd be lucky and cross paths with someone committing a crime.
The way to the underground portion of the City wasn't too difficult to find. A well-rounded collection of rumors and tales already made their way past Ken's ears: Stories about Circus Carnivore, and the sheer insanity that often displayed itself; the desperate and needy folk, clawing through dirt-ridden alleyways in hopes to find a source of light, a way up. Ken heard all about the whores with their caked make-up, and the decaying buildings with flickering neon signs, which were the only homes they ever knew of. Then, there were the monsters. Ken heard about them, first. Those who told him held such an immense fear in their eyes; thick and sharp, they spoke as though falling head-first into a vivid memory, bound & gagged with no means for turning back. One man hugged himself, and Ken saw a shiver prickle its way along pale, bare arms.
Aside from having no simple way to escape, the City was just like any other.
Ken stepped off the platform of the subway, a keen gaze taking in anything and everything possible. At first there was nothing. The air felt thick with dust, blood, smoke, and decay; a myriad of potent aromas and of death itself. An echo of metal clashing with metal directed Ken's attention to the left, and without a guess of what the source was, he headed down one of many paths, pausing so often to pick up the sound and it's location.
The closer Ken drew to the steady clang of metal, the louder it grew. Fragments of light from the City above filtered through the manholes and gutters that littered the streets, giving Ken just enough light to see by. The sound of rustling paper, and what seemed to be plastic bags, made Ken stop and listen. He strained his ears over the distant echoes of strange music, metal upon metal, and the sporadic cry for help. Ken's breath came short while he did so; his pulse continued to race, thundering between his ears.
No one would be able to stop him this time. Not Omi, not the law (especially in this sort of place), not his team members; not even Kritiker. No one. Ken knew well enough what he wanted to do, and well-aware of the laws he was about to break. Take a life other than your intended target, and you are nothing but a common murderer. ...but that wasn't about to stop him. Who would know? He and Omi already deduced that Kritiker - as well as Esstet, even - clearly, had nothing to do with the City. While it definitely felt like someones idea of a sadistic joke, the City was beyond their doing.
Ken paused again, this time clenching his fists. The metal claws made a soft shink! as they released from their sheathes. Something was nearby. Ken could practically smell the bitter stench of fresh blood in the air.
While his head continued to throb from a racing pulse, Ken's hands trembled slightly with anticipation, his blood beginning to boil. There isn't much to see down the adjacent alley, but the wait is half the fun. Whether it'd take a few minutes or the entire night, Ken refused to return to his shared apartment until his mind was black from satisfaction, his opponents sliced into ribbons.