The Black King of None

Oh yeah I forgot to post this here

I draw a cover for every single chapter of The Brothers Karamazov (but I can only use MS Paint)....... ANOTHER BOOK DOWN

Book II: An Unfortunate Gathering

“Balance is the way of the universe, as you know.  Being able to make happiness out of nothing-  Well..  That’s not possible for a human.”

What are you getting at, Edgelord-san?

Huff.  A strong drag of a quite thick South American cigar.  A trademark for the ‘Napoleon of Crime’.

“However, perhaps some exist out there who can shine brightly irregardless of that sadness.  Perhaps the next breed of human will not worry about ‘Fantasy’ or ‘Civilization‘, but that power of light to shine on a dark, frigid, balanced world.”

“Balance is the way of the universe, as you know.  Being able to make happiness out of nothing-  Well..  That’s not possible for a human.”

“…”

……

Ahh, I haven’t talked much about those Games, huh?  No matter!~  My heart flutters into Heaven whenever she manages to-

“Hahaha..”

A rare thing.  A clearly observable, plain as day smile on his face.  Well, a smirk more like it.  Something about this situation had made it so for him.  This cold, unfeeling, hulking man had put his hand to his face (edge) and begun chuckling under it.  Well, Erika foresaw how that usually went down anyway-

“Hahahahaha!  Those fangs-  Your kind!  I know I didn’t make a mistake!!  Hahaha!!” 

He crushes his own cigar in his hand, turning to mere ashes of darkness.  He stands up at this point, arms extended to the pitch black Heaven above the roof over their heads.  A laugh rung out.  Not the kind of absurdly warped cackle that those oddly-dressed Witches spat.  A simply overjoyed and loud laugh of a normally stone-cold man. 

“Destroying fantasy, putting it all on the line for naught!  An existence so fragile and ill-adjusted, but able to throw a gas fire into that blackness called ‘tomorrow’!  That’s it-  Without needing to take any form, that’s the kind that can laugh at the name of Paracelsus!” 

On the face of it, clearly the laughing ramblings of a madman.  Eventually, the air seemed to simmer down and he pounds his fist to the bar next to him.  With his greatly pleased expression still there.  This fire that exuded from the aura of these Witches was certainly something of immeasurable appreciation for the black man.  While not like the eternal sun, and fleeting, that’s just the kind of thing to break the coldness of the dark he’d always been looking for.

“I’m bewildered to think I’d be so sold on it once again.  It truly wasn’t a fluke.  I wish to learn more of this intoxicating world of ‘Witches and Fragments’.  Games that burn with tension, something I can truly sink my teeth into.  How do I get to experience it for myself?”

Anyone who’d ever met this elusive M would be guffawed and call him an imposter at this point-  Eager as child for something like this?  The pinnacle of absurdity, but here he was.

…goodness.                       Quite a sudden outburst.            Still, it did not seem…negative, at least.

                                       What a reaction, though.                          Of course, Erika was no superwoman.                           She took a good handful of seconds of silence to herself,            analyzing and interpreting.                                 Not necessarily taken aback,                                                             but simply processing the information presented.              This sort of energy…there was a lot that could be done with it.                                                               She wondered if he realized it could be used against him.                                It reminded her of a fledgling witch she once met.                                      Mere years into his own boredom,                                   anxious to dismiss it altogether. He had learned, however. Maybe this one will too.

“Perhaps you are more a witch than previously realized.

                           With a reaction like that, it seems you have been tortured by boredom for a long while.                      …do keep in mind, I am simply a detective.                                   I am no true witch myself, mush as I have granted myself the name.                             In the end, I may call myself the Monochrome Witch,                                         but I am not recognized.                                                            I could refer you to other witches if you wish to challenge their own game boards. I know a certain one utterly green with envy that would be positively thrilled to have you. And of course, there is the Great Lady as well, if you are feeling particularly confident.”

She paused for a moment.

“Boredom is a poison, is it not?              Maybe figuratively, for you, but quite literally, for witches.                                   You have hosted me well enough. And you said you wish to create, rather than play.                        Another option would be…”

                              “…well, you could create your game, and I could tear it all down.                          Strip it, expose it, dissect it,                  v i o l a t e   it.                       And it could serve one of two purposes.                                   Either to relieve your boredom, as a true duel between the two of us,                                   or, as a preliminary examination, say, that I teared everything you create down, in order for you to build it back up,        stronger,              better,                    so you could go so far as to use that game board of yours as a challenge to even greater beings.                              ….what is the phrase people use nowadays? A beta tester, so to speak?

Of course, it is simply a proposal.                 I would not think lesser of you if you rejected it.                         It simply seems, by your reaction, that you suffer from mundanity and boredom more often than preferred.”

Feelings are rare.

“That much I figured for the world of witches.  I cannot relate in this regard.  I shall not elaborate too much, however, I’ve been forced for more than you may ever know to experience that so-called boredom of poison.  A punishment dolled out by no one at all.  Perhaps you could say that boredom is simply my natural state at this point-”

Yeah, since you’re a walking piece of black painted cardboard, my dear edgy friend!

“...However, my desire to attempt this isn’t a fear of ‘poisonous boredom’, but a hunger for the ‘fire’ that inadvertently comes as a result of these methods that witches take to relieve this boredom.  That coupled with an inexperience in your interactions does make me boorish.  However...the end results are the same.  That passion, I wish to see how much ‘light for tomorrow’ it may yield.”

Even more rare than that bizarre outburst of his was how...well, up-front he was about these thoughts he’d been mulling over.  Erika had been one of two other folks who had really been worthy enough to merit a great deal of attention from him, and the other one was related to her.  He had drunk down the whisky like a soft drink at this point.  A furiously powerful beverage that he just let pass down his esophagus freely, with not so much as a wince.  Eugh..  Unenjoyable.  Much prefer Erika’s appreciation.  Perhaps he did it more as something to jog the senses a little. 

“Ponder not.  If I know something, it’s detective’s.  My puzzle could surely not evade your attention to detail at this-  Reminds me of an old friend and...opponent you could say.  Unfortunately now that role is vacated, but..” 

Well.  She understood the implication.  Like two martial artists of profoundly different styles facing off, it seemed he was eager to see what things he could conjure up from the abyss that is himself. 

“Worry not about my pride.  I have no need for such thing.  I just wish to see what lets you see ‘tomorrow’.”

Hmmm, don’t celebrate Christmas today, so what to..

Gaaaasp-

JAMES!!  PRETTY LADY-  STEP ON IT!!~

“…”

Rarely can one make the man known as James Moriarty’s muscles twinge in any capacity with the mere oscillation of their words in his eardrums, much less to anything really, but that shrill thing that rang in his head at the drop of a hat (hah!) would feel like more of an eternal torture than any amount of solitude or blackness filling his soul.  If he had any other option..  Well.

The skittering of the fabled [Metacreatures] inched closer to the poor Taoist as she tried navigating this irregular, almost misshapen, black world.  Even the black sky throws off anyone familiar with the wondrously bright world that almost any other organism would inhabit.  Amorphously plopping against the surfaces of the ‘buildings’ and ‘structures’ of this black world with incredible speed, and in great number as well.  Surely if she hadn’t possessed much wit, spiritual control, and good physique, she’d be on the ropes to her doom right now.  (As well as that peculiar ability..)  But fortunately for a hermit skilled in the martial arts, she could most likely evade them for much longer.

[UOOO…!  OO…GG…HH!  S..R…T!!~]

Oh my-  Hurry up, Moriarty!  If anything hurts that adorable face, you’re on fish filet duty for a week!! 

“…Wait, Moran.  We still can’t access a proper path to her yet.  Anything from here will likely do more damage to her then the Metacreature.  Paradigm stabilization.”

The black man was almost…phasing through some incomprehensible medium on the way to trying to track down the hermit.  Something that cannot possibly have a relevancy to something of the world of man.  He was continually popping through it as if an approaching afterimage, trying to get on with this…emergency mission, if you could call it that. 

“…Hmph.  Looks like you’ll need to evade that thing for a little bit longer.”

In the end, she decided to sprint at full speed. If there was any indication that the creature heard or noticed her, she didn’t take the time to make sure. She made as much of an effort to cut through the various alleys as she could, hopping and climbing over boxes or short fences, before coming out into an open area. Even for someone as fit as her, doing this for as long as she has was starting to take it’s toll, and she stops to catch her breath, hands over her knees.

Splat.

The sounds of firearms flying through the air.  Not a familiar sound for most in Gensokyo, hopefully.  When the hermit had dashed to the open area, she’d notice that the strange thing tailing her had...well, not, now.  No skittering or warped groaning.  Further examination of the surroundings reveals a large man cloaked in black leaning against a lamppost with a large cigar in his mouth.  The usual smoke screen he was accompanied with.  His eyes trail over to the hermit.  It was pure silence as much as it could be at this point.  No words, or sounds of any activity coming from this dark world as the man known as Moriarty had been observing this Eastern woman closely. 

“..Quite a spiritual aptitude to have your wits about you here.”

Another snap of his cold, bony fingers.  The glass gets carried off by small extending fimbrae-like appendages swaying it to the end of the bar, into the darkness out of sight.  This followed by another glass materializing in front of her from that inconceivable blackness. 

“Freely, whenever you wish.  And naturally, like any competition, it’s no fun to not be giving it your all.  For me?  High stakes aren’t an issue.  If you could say if that even existed, really-  Perhaps I’m more suited making one for people to play.”

You edgelord..

He reaches into his massive black shadow for a coat (though, it’s really just a very dark coat) and pulls another luxurious looking cigar from its pocket.  He slides it over to her, lighting up another one himself after finishing his first.

“Don’t inhale.”

Brief instructions.  Normally conversed like that to a certain someone else, but this one proved to be worthy of his time, so naturally he’d extend the same treatment.

“…you offer a little girl such a big cigar?”

Smiling amusedly, she took it regardless and performed a perfect drag.                  If it were any other time, she would have been coughing mad.                                    But, well…she barely had physical feeling anymore, so it was fine.                                                         Numb and grey, how tragic.

“Of course, you play regardless if you create or not.                    That is how the game works.                              You do not get out of playing by being the author, and if you tried,                                no one would bother to play your game to begin with. A creator unwilling to play their own game is boorish and implies the game is not worth playing.                                     Even the aloof Great Lady played the game with her miko, in some form.                                And being the creator actually puts one at a disadvantage.                                          Constantly on the defense                                          Constantly justifying                                          Constantly dodging bullets while the offense has infinite ammunition .                                  That man I mentioned before?                               He created that scenario.                          Meaning all the opportunity to trap himself in an inescapable undoing was his.

        And this is not limited to witching games. You would do well to realize that a certain level of mutual etiquette is implicitly required from creators, to keep them honest.            After all, why would anyone play a creation the creator themselves would not play?

Of course, if you realize all of this, then there would be no issue. It simply seems to me that you take these games far too lightly for your own good, from the way you talk about them. You seem to have an air of low key bravado about you that would do well to disappear outright, so you do not make any stupid mistakes like that man once did. I do not complain. I simply advise more caution. 

How can I complain when I have been served these drinks so graciously?”

......

Ahh, I haven’t talked much about those Games, huh?  No matter!~  My heart flutters into Heaven whenever she manages to-

“Hahaha..”

A rare thing.  A clearly observable, plain as day smile on his face.  Well, a smirk more like it.  Something about this situation had made it so for him.  This cold, unfeeling, hulking man had put his hand to his face (edge) and begun chuckling under it.  Well, Erika foresaw how that usually went down anyway-

“Hahahahaha!  Those fangs-  Your kind!  I know I didn’t make a mistake!!  Hahaha!!” 

He crushes his own cigar in his hand, turning to mere ashes of darkness.  He stands up at this point, arms extended to the pitch black Heaven above the roof over their heads.  A laugh rung out.  Not the kind of absurdly warped cackle that those oddly-dressed Witches spat.  A simply overjoyed and loud laugh of a normally stone-cold man. 

“Destroying fantasy, putting it all on the line for naught!  An existence so fragile and ill-adjusted, but able to throw a gas fire into that blackness called ‘tomorrow’!  That’s it-  Without needing to take any form, that’s the kind that can laugh at the name of Paracelsus!” 

On the face of it, clearly the laughing ramblings of a madman.  Eventually, the air seemed to simmer down and he pounds his fist to the bar next to him.  With his greatly pleased expression still there.  This fire that exuded from the aura of these Witches was certainly something of immeasurable appreciation for the black man.  While not like the eternal sun, and fleeting, that’s just the kind of thing to break the coldness of the dark he’d always been looking for.

“I’m bewildered to think I’d be so sold on it once again.  It truly wasn’t a fluke.  I wish to learn more of this intoxicating world of ‘Witches and Fragments’.  Games that burn with tension, something I can truly sink my teeth into.  How do I get to experience it for myself?”

“…Hm.  She did seem the eccentric type, I wouldn’t put it past them.”

So much for that ‘cute daughter’ thing.  Looks like even the familia wasn’t important to those coveted witches.  If only he had such a similar mindset.  He had started puffing on that massive, luxurious looking cigar of his.  It was almost his trademark at this point.  He wasn’t seen without it.  Another screen of smoke that curled around him like spectral vines. 

“I had a feeling it was special to those two.  Perhaps my slight understanding made them intrigued, so we got to discuss quite a bit.”

Naturally listened carefully to the detectives qualifications.  They made him curious.  How would he do in one of these games?  Didn’t want to be a detective himself, but some intellectual stimulation might make him get excited over something.  See what exactly mystery has that draws that hawk-nose so.  Even if it was opposed to the black fellow himself. 

“Golden Witch?  That title..  Hmm..”

Something like that seems too out-there to forget.  And he naturally never really forgot much of anything.  Knowing he hasn’t heard it, but feeling like it meant something to him.  Or to someone.

Oh, James..  Someday, you’ll really get to understand.  Those words, of our captain-

“…”

He seemed to shrug.  That didn’t happen to bother him anymore.

“Tenacious as well?  So, you were a ‘piece’.  I haven’t participated in a game, but I saw how they were handled.  Perhaps someday I’ll have my own.”

That really reminded her.  Kitty’s tenacity seemed to not stem from her golden eye.  Maybe everyone with that fashion sense had such wild fire hidden in their soul?  Admirable. 

Special…to those two…yes, one could easily say that.

Special to many a two.

She downed the rest of her drink,         giving a small shiver and recoil in the process. Disgusting.                                   Good.                                                                                                                    She still exists.

“Freely, whenever you wish.  And naturally, like any competition, it’s no fun to not be giving it your all.  For me?  High stakes aren’t an issue.  If you could say if that even existed, really-  Perhaps I’m more suited making one for people to play.”

You edgelord..

He reaches into his massive black shadow for a coat (though, it’s really just a very dark coat) and pulls another luxurious looking cigar from its pocket.  He slides it over to her, lighting up another one himself after finishing his first.

“Don’t inhale.”

Detective.

…

Ahh, Holmes.  What must you be doing right now?  Someone needs to destroy fantasy someday, after all.

Normally wasn’t one to show emotion ever.  And really, he hadn’t felt any particular emotion.  The only one who had to the ability to get a rise out of him was at a lecture right now.  But, these witches..  Something about them felt very homely to him.

“Relative, I presume?  Normal humans aren’t allowed to come here.  But that kitten had a very interesting tale of cicadas from the Far East to discuss.  I don’t quite favor things like tea, but I was impressed.  How about you?  Surely a detective must have an interesting resume under their belt.” 

Would play off the whole resemblance, after all.  This was her ‘cute daughter’ after all.  She’d be an interesting conversationalist just like hawk-nose, certainly.

“…recently estranged relative, one may say.                 Though it is not personal.”

Swirling the drink, she sipped again, giving an exhale of satisfaction. Disgusting. Perfect.

Depending on who you asked, that was a blatant lie.

It was absolutely personal. The point was that she held no ill will towards her former master, even if everyone else might say she should.

“…I hear those cicadas were not too far off from oblivion itself, for her.”

“…resume…hm…”

It had been so very, very long. Close your eyes.         It took her a few moments to access those memories,                  but they came back, clear as day. Contrary to popular belief, eidetic memory did not necessitate a certain speed of memory recall,                                     only truly referring to the accuracy of those memories.

So much for that ‘cute daughter’ thing.  Looks like even the familia wasn’t important to those coveted witches.  If only he had such a similar mindset.  He had started puffing on that massive, luxurious looking cigar of his.  It was almost his trademark at this point.  He wasn’t seen without it.  Another screen of smoke that curled around him like spectral vines. 

“I had a feeling it was special to those two.  Perhaps my slight understanding made them intrigued, so we got to discuss quite a bit.”

Naturally listened carefully to the detectives qualifications.  They made him curious.  How would he do in one of these games?  Didn’t want to be a detective himself, but some intellectual stimulation might make him get excited over something.  See what exactly mystery has that draws that hawk-nose so.  Even if it was opposed to the black fellow himself. 

“Golden Witch?  That title..  Hmm..”

Something like that seems too out-there to forget.  And he naturally never really forgot much of anything.  Knowing he hasn’t heard it, but feeling like it meant something to him.  Or to someone.

Oh, James..  Someday, you’ll really get to understand.  Those words, of our captain-

“...”

He seemed to shrug.  That didn’t happen to bother him anymore.

“Tenacious as well?  So, you were a ‘piece’.  I haven’t participated in a game, but I saw how they were handled.  Perhaps someday I’ll have my own.”

E…Erikaaaa?!!  Oh sweetest love of my life..!  

Oiiii-  James, I’ll really give you an ole’ one two if you don’t treat this lovely Detec-

“Gin and tonic, coming right up.”

The grating annoyance that persisted in his head, he’d always jump at the moment’s notice to silence it.  At least nobody else had to witness this foolishness.  He can make out with his dignity intact, at the very least.

A snap of the fingers.  Shadows pile up upon the counter like tentacles to a crustacean prey before forming into a finely ornate glass with that requested serving of clear, slightly viscous, and fragrant mixed booze.  Who knows what impression he would be trying to give with that show, but what was certain was that at least he’ll treat a dignified visitor well and allow them to feel comfortable.  Even despite his reservations towards those investigators, and very much regardless of the goading he’d be hearing at the back of his mind. 

“I suppose it’s rude to not introduce myself..  James, a pleasure.  Your kind was a welcome addition to those seeking my audience some time ago.  A certain other blue-haired one had invited me to tea before.”

Naturally seems intentionally sparse with his words.  It should go without saying that trying to parse the meaning between the lines would be more engaging for her than to simply espouse esoteric facts about some past encounters that were normally run-of-the-mill.

An eyebrow slightly raised, then lowered.                   Clearly, this was something else.        To her, something line Gin and Tonic hit her tastebuds hard enough to remind herself she had feeling there.                 She slightly winced as she took a sip.                                         Good. It still provokes a reaction.

“Furudo Erika.                            Detective.                                            …quite the show you put on.                             Shadow puppetry is difficult, from what I understand.”

What to do with these words, this information?                        This James character.                                 ‘Your kind’?                                             A blue haired one, invited for tea.

He knows she used to have blue hair, despite it being grey now. Addresses her as an other. It was clear he had done his homework.

A little disconcertingly clear, really.                  Very interesting, though.                                                              She will play for now.

...

Ahh, Holmes.  What must you be doing right now?  Someone needs to destroy fantasy someday, after all.

Normally wasn’t one to show emotion ever.  And really, he hadn’t felt any particular emotion.  The only one who had to the ability to get a rise out of him was at a lecture right now.  But, these witches..  Something about them felt very homely to him.

“Relative, I presume?  Normal humans aren’t allowed to come here.  But that kitten had a very interesting tale of cicadas from the Far East to discuss.  I don’t quite favor things like tea, but I was impressed.  How about you?  Surely a detective must have an interesting resume under their belt.” 

@themonochromewitch Huufff…puff.

The exhalation of a screen of smoke from a fine cigar.  The backdrop of a small isolated tavern with none in it except the black man himself.  Awfully similar to those fabled tea-rooms that the detective had had her due time in, but with a more earthy and familiar architecture.  Not to mention that the large fellow wasn’t quite a tea-drinker unlike almost everyone else of his time period, at least of his financial status.  Instead, a small glass of strong amber liquid. 

“Oya.  How long it’s been since I’ve had one of you folks in my presence.”

A witch.  How many he’s dealt with (for better or for worse), he couldn’t count.  Needless to say, this one wasn’t like a certain clingy one he was more familiar with.  That was a plus on the face of it.  However…the feeling he gets from this one was less like those cackling eccentrics, and more like that old hawk-nosed acquaintance he dealt with long ago.  He shrugged it off for now.  Such things don’t bother him.  Her color, however..  What kind of curious happening brought that about?  Usually someone was vibrant or dark as sin like himself.  That duality contrasted against the dimness of this realm of his.

                              “Whatever could you mean by ‘you folks’ I wonder…”

A rather dull retort, for a rather dull location. And yet, where was the owner? Where were the tenders? Had she truly entered a tavern with no one staffing?                  That was intriguing in its own right.                             Perhaps this was the owner. Then, why was he drinking on the job?                      No, maybe not.                                           For now, this mystery would have to do,                      as well as the mystery of how and why he presumed to know who she was.

“I would usually order a gin and tonic at this point,                                                                                 though I spot no service.                            And as for you…                                                       …have we met?”

Oiiii-  James, I’ll really give you an ole’ one two if you don’t treat this lovely Detec-

“Gin and tonic, coming right up.”

The grating annoyance that persisted in his head, he’d always jump at the moment’s notice to silence it.  At least nobody else had to witness this foolishness.  He can make out with his dignity intact, at the very least.

A snap of the fingers.  Shadows pile up upon the counter like tentacles to a crustacean prey before forming into a finely ornate glass with that requested serving of clear, slightly viscous, and fragrant mixed booze.  Who knows what impression he would be trying to give with that show, but what was certain was that at least he’ll treat a dignified visitor well and allow them to feel comfortable.  Even despite his reservations towards those investigators, and very much regardless of the goading he’d be hearing at the back of his mind. 

“I suppose it’s rude to not introduce myself..  James, a pleasure.  Your kind was a welcome addition to those seeking my audience some time ago.  A certain other blue-haired one had invited me to tea before.”

She had been switching between running and hiding for possibly ten minutes now, she estimates. If this was a nightmare, it was the most vivid she’s ever experienced. The landscape featured only large black buildings twisted in their shapes, there was no other person around these streets and she was being chased by some kind of monster.

Gaaaasp-

JAMES!!  PRETTY LADY-  STEP ON IT!!~

“...”

Rarely can one make the man known as James Moriarty’s muscles twinge in any capacity with the mere oscillation of their words in his eardrums, much less to anything really, but that shrill thing that rang in his head at the drop of a hat (hah!) would feel like more of an eternal torture than any amount of solitude or blackness filling his soul.  If he had any other option..  Well.

The skittering of the fabled [Metacreatures] inched closer to the poor Taoist as she tried navigating this irregular, almost misshapen, black world.  Even the black sky throws off anyone familiar with the wondrously bright world that almost any other organism would inhabit.  Amorphously plopping against the surfaces of the ‘buildings’ and ‘structures’ of this black world with incredible speed, and in great number as well.  Surely if she hadn’t possessed much wit, spiritual control, and good physique, she’d be on the ropes to her doom right now.  (As well as that peculiar ability..)  But fortunately for a hermit skilled in the martial arts, she could most likely evade them for much longer.

[UOOO...!  OO...GG...HH!  S..R...T!!~]

Oh my-  Hurry up, Moriarty!  If anything hurts that adorable face, you’re on fish filet duty for a week!! 

“...Wait, Moran.  We still can’t access a proper path to her yet.  Anything from here will likely do more damage to her then the Metacreature.  Paradigm stabilization.”

The black man was almost...phasing through some incomprehensible medium on the way to trying to track down the hermit.  Something that cannot possibly have a relevancy to something of the world of man.  He was continually popping through it as if an approaching afterimage, trying to get on with this...emergency mission, if you could call it that. 

“Ange.

SIGN. ME. UP. MATE.

I’ve been around for longer than four years now, maybe we interacted? What’d you play?

Wahaha!  I know we did interact since I remember this blog since even back then, though my memory is a little hazy.  I was a multi-muse blog with Endless Sorcerer Battler I believe..  That blog is long gone to the abyss now, unfortunately.