Stray Doggs

Fav: MGS/DbD/Resident Evil/monsters and masked guys

好きジャンルでまだ活動してらっしゃる方々ありがたい…栄養…

い、いまさら〜〜！

忙しくて出来なかったけどポチポチやり始めます。

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The team was divided into two groups, one to enter from the front and the other from the back, and upon my signal, we were to enter the interior. I led the team from the front and we broke into the court. We kicked our way through every room of the two-story building, which literally could be called a "court," and immediately shot and killed anyone who jumped out. We fired every bullet before even thinking about who it was, before we could think about anything else. It was truly what one would call "dirty work.” Bodies piled up one after another, and screams and whitish dust filled the building. A short time later, a short radio call came in.

"Target down, congressman dead."

We were searching a hidden room in the back of the bedroom. It was a small room with various miscellaneous objects. Suddenly, a small figure jumped out from the shadows.

“Don't shoot it!”

I shouted, but it was too late. A bullet fired by one of my men shot the figure through the head, and it fell down. I rushed over. It was a girl who appeared to be no more than 10 years old. Her eyes were wide open and she had died, and there was a mark on her forehead where she had been shot from the front. Blood poured from it, spreading to the cold floor. Then I noticed that there was someone else breathing in the shadows toward where she had jumped out. I looked and saw it was a boy about her age and he was staring at the girl with a rigid expression on his face.

“What do we do with him?”

One of my men overheard me.

“Take him away. I'll ask my client for instructions.”

I couldn't just leave him here. At my direction, my men walked up to the boy, grabbed his arms, and tried to stand him up. The boy suddenly came to himself and shook off their hands.

“sa' aq tuluka!”

The boy shouted something. His eyes were on me, right in front of him. Then he repeated the words over and over again, as if he were spitting something hard. I knew what it meant, partly because I had been in this country too long.

No, maybe anyone could see it in this situation and in the look of hatred on his face. He was shouting, "I'm gonna kill you.”

I approached the boy, who was throwing anything nearby, and quickly grabbed him by the arm and twisted him up. The boy groaned in pain and fell to his knees. Perhaps realizing that he could not win, the boy stopped resisting and weakly repeated the curse, tears welling up from both eyes.

...I know that feeling.

Old memories flashed bitterly and vividly in my mind. A child so helpless to do anything to give even the tiniest bit of recompense to a world so horrifying. How much that reality had shattered and damaged my self-esteem. I hated my helplessness with all my heart. I even gave up my name - Eli - to bury even that memory.

スプラのガスマスク手に入った(満足)

この偉そうなポーズ可愛すぎんか…

Reading Part 1 >>

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When my parents returned home, there was hardly any light in the house other than the TV that had been left on, and there was no sign of anyone. What in the world were Judith and Michael doing? They called out to them, but there was no answer. They went upstairs to look for them. When they turned on the light in Judith's room, all they saw was a pool of blood and a disfigured Judith. They panicked and held her in their arms. Then the mother screamed, "Where is Michael?" He was standing alone in the backyard with dressing as a clown for Halloween, but his candy basket was empty. In his dead-cold hand was a bloody kitchen knife.

After the incident, Michael was admitted to the child psychiatric unit. The doctor who tried to examine him noticed that he was different from other psychotic patients. Michael was an excellent research subject for doctors working in large hospitals. However, since he had stopped speaking even to his family after the incident, doctors struggled to find a way to examine him. Eventually, they began to look for anything that would react to him, and the results gradually became more extreme. However, he had little reaction even when shown photographs of Judith's body and her boyfriend's wounds. There were repeated investigations into Michael's upbringing, and his parents gradually became exhausted and divorced a short time later. The house on Lumpkin Street was sold, the mother had a relationship with another man and had a child, but she was in no condition to raise a child due to alcoholism and PTSD. Her daughter was placed in foster care shortly after her birth and was taken in by another couple.

“Michael did not have a mental illness. He had a clear purpose to take a life, and he did it. I would call him a pure demon by nature. What he needs is not rehabilitation, but isolation and supervision," his doctor concluded. But his conclusion was met with a kick in the pants. His father was missing, his mother was almost a cripple, and with no other relatives to turn to, he was placed in an orphanage.

The matron welcomed him with a smile and a hug. She believed that love is what saves everything. That night, Michael quietly got out of bed, went to the matron's room, and thrust a nail he must have pulled out of somewhere into her sleeping hand. The nail was deeply embedded into the wooden frame of the bed. While she was unable to pull it out, he picked up the front door key and quietly slipped out of the facility.