Route XX

For any angels onlooking the scene, the situation they would see was disgusting. Chaos bred and bubbled within the confines of the imaginary concrete space called the city, a sound not unsimilar to tearing metal rising from the voices of all people within the prison of glass. "This is a demon's doing," one would say, while another said "this is humanity".

If angels really did exist, Shintaro would punch one in the face.

After all, it was the decision of the angelic-like humans that lorded over the country that spelled out the doom of them all. Blasts and gunshots clawed through the air, a wave of fleeing people trying to escape out of the hellhole while simultaneously backing away from the ranks upon ranks of death barrels and bloody corpses. Eyes hungrily, desperately searched for an exit from the rusted gibbet descending upon their small civilization.

He was sick, of course, but considering he didn't eat for the past few days, he only dry heaved and spat out bile to fry on the blasted sidewalks. It was a strange, jarring time, where he both cursed and praised his self-malnutrition. The midnight hoodie overtop of his skin did little to soothe his itchy and sweating skin, while his charcoal jeans laughed and scratched at his burning thighs like cruel, heartless children. He couldn't give up now, though. He was almost there.

Absently, in seemingly another world, a separate state of mind, he chuckled at the absurdity of his situation. Disease crawled under his skin like a million insects exploring his blood vessels, and he knew that if he succeeded in his task, he was dooming the entire world, but to be honest, he didn't care at all. The world's fate didn't concern him. He only cared about surviving for as long as possible.

Ha. It was less than a week ago where he wanted to end his life, yet now the spark of survival roared inside of him as in a hearth.

Pathetic. Really, truly, utterly pathetic.

"But I'm a pathetic person," he laughed dryly, voice strained and rubbed raw by air sandpapering back and forth through his respiratory system. Oh yes, and he never denied it, not once.

The silencing of desperate wailing just caused more and more noise, the cacophony of screams creating a horrendous backdrop for the boy. His destination was right there in front of him, calling to him in a siren song of silence. Sweet, blissful silence. It wrapped his hands around him, caressing his sickly body, whispering praises and commands to sleep, let go of himself, stop and rest...

Of course, that was before a real set of arms met his nerves, causing him to snap his eyes open and jerk in terror at the sudden touch. He marginally relaxed when he stared into impossibly yellow eyes, pigments too crisp to even be considered natural by any means, yet dancing in mirth.

"So you did follow my instructions. Funny, really, I expected more of a resistance from you. But then again, broken goods discarded by their owners tend to do whatever they can to please ones who accept them. Aren't I right, Shintaro?"

Chapped lips parted to reply, annoyance tugging at its edges yet submission crawling out of his throat, when his potentially lame response was cut off by a massive ball of flames and burnt flesh mushrooming out from the city with a giant cry. Blank coal eyes stared, the oranges and reds flickering in their depths, making the taller male smile.

"Wh-Why..."

"Hm? Ah, it wasn't needed anymore. Good riddance, though, don't you think?" A grin cocked to the side, giving off the false pretense of being sane.

I should be there too, the suddenly mournful throught that emerged from his brain muttered. There to cook with the other piles of meat.

As if reading his mind, pale hands spun even paler appendages around so Shintaro was facing his savior directly. "Now now, Shintaro, don't look so glum. It's not like there was anything left back there for you anyway, and as long as you're mine, I'll appreciate you like you deserve."

Perfect, pearly white teeth trailed to his hearing limb, brushing against the soft skin, the rumble of the man's chuckles amplified by the nonexistent distance.

"You know, Shintaro..." Gold flicked, examining the boring, common black hair that was esoteric only to him. "I got rid of them, too. Your captors."

Confusion hazed into Shintaro's mind before a questioning glance was sent in the other's way. Another chuckle. "The labcoats. Heh, more like labrats."

Then he understood, and without warning he found his wrist and shoulder in death grips, digging into blinding soreness as a startled yelp was released. The next syllables were let out slowly, dragging on agonizingly, tantalizingly.

"You've got no one. No family. No friends. Now, no jailers."

A hard swallow. A disturbingly chaste kiss to his temple.

"You've seen hell now. But you were always walking the road of hellfire, now weren't you, Shintaro?"

A long moment of silence. With a start, the ragged boy realized he was expecting an answer. "...Yeah... I-I guess..."

Then the pressure suddenly liften, the agony in his limbs released from sunshine-painted nails, only for said nails to be presented to him in front of his face. The mask of sanity was torn off, jagged edges like torn paper reflecting as a demonic grin on the man's face.

"Then let's go to hell together. Swear yourself to me... Kisaragi Shintaro."

And he did, all the while thinking that he must be insane to take comfort in the homicidal expression, insane to give himself to the man who spoke through his computer that one fateful night, insane to find himself suddenly lethargic to the massacre behind him.

He must be insane... but he didn't really care.

The manic grin ripped his own face in half, dead midnight eyes alight with cracked glass.

"Yeah. Let's go... Kuroha."

"Hey, did you hear about the murders that happened recently?"

"No, but you're going to tell me, right? 'Son of a police chief'?"

"Shut up, haha. Well, from what I heard from my dad, this whole group of teenagers was slaughtered. I heard there was even a twelve year-old that was killed."

"That's horrible... do they know who did it?"

"No, they don't have a clue... apparently one witness was still alive when they got to the scene, but she was so traumatized they can't get any info out of her. She went insane, I think, and kept saying something about resetting time before bursting into tears."

"Poor kid..."

"Yeah... Anyway, it's really creepy cause several of the bodies look like they were suicides. Wrists slit, hanging form a noose, that sorta thing, but they know it was murder."

"Psychos..."

"Tell me about it."

Interlocked fingers swayed merrily, enjoying the fresh summer breeze.

It was bright, this outside world.

"Shintaro... It's too hot out. Let's get some icecream!"

"Pfft. Sure thing. Chocolate?"

"Of course."