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DEATH SOLO PROMPT: WEAPONS CONVERSIONS / Kidnapped!

And in the end, a dream is simply a dream.

This was not the future you wanted. You were happy with living your modest life, you were happy with the choices you were given, the reason for you to continue on as you did, for being given a reason to fight and really stand for what you believed in. You were happy with the struggles of each day, the complexities of your life, and most of all-

- You were yourself.

Were, and now, would never be. You wake up. It is cold. You are in a strange platform of sorts, raised, thick metal all around you. You hear people talking, perhaps, talking about a candidate. Wait, did they mean you?

This was not the ending you wanted. This was never what you asked for, and you fight to be freed, you fight to warn someone of what is going on -

- Until the blast of pain nearly knocks you out. There is just too much now, sound, noise, lights, agony. For a second, everything focuses around you crystal clear. You remember that one memory, the one moment of who you are, the pride you had in being yourself, be it love, hatred, joy, sadness, nostalgia. You can see it now, as you reach one hand towards that source, towards yourself everything you ever were. Happy. Free.

The moment shatters forever until there is nothing again.

Waking up was hard. His eyelids were so heavy he thought that they might never open again. Slowly, very slowly, the lids opened and light filtered on through the were penguins eyes. Everything was blurry at first and very confusing. His vision came to finally allowing him to see the metal before him.

Metal. He wanted to touch it.

Slowly, very slowly he reached out and stroked it. The cool metal greeted him with the smoothness of its surface. He pressed his palm to the metal and tried to think of why there would be metal here. Why was he here? Why did his head hurt.

Oh his head. His head was killing him. The were penguin squeezed his eyes shut as tightly as he was able. He probably would have kept them completely shut if it wasn't for the sound of murmuring. The voices he could hear and it sounded like they were talking as if he was a specimen. Rowly finally opened his eyes to peer up at the figures. The words were about him - or at least the egotism of his allowed him to believe that it was him. He saw no one else in the current position he was tightly stuck in around.

What kind of situation WAS he tightly stuck in.

Power.

He squeezed his eyes shut once more.

Power. Power. Power. Power. Power. Power. Power.

It was like a thumping in his brain. The word power over and over again. As frequant as the beat of his heart and every time growing louder and louder. Was this really what he had wanted. He remembered it, could feel the sensation of only wanting it. But a small something in his heart was telling him no. It was so faint so small compared to the over whelming of desire. A light. It shined in side of him dimly like a wandering memory he should be remembering but for some reason couldn't.

Two figures in white coats grabbed him and pulled him up to his feet. The walk wasn't so much a walk as much as a drag. Everything was still hazy in the were penguins mind and just didn't add up. He was not fighting the white coats as much as he just really wasn't sure he fully wanted to walk. Dragging was easier.

The white light was shining brighter and brighter in side of him as the the group approached some sort of machine. And then as if he'd had some sort of over power realization the penguin remembered.

Her.

Bella. The demon girl with the bright pink hair and black as raven wings. He remembered the sensation of being afraid of her and then he remembered the sensation of being worried, the sensation of laughter, happiness, frustration, desire and then finally. Love. Specific memories of the times he felt these emotions were not remembered but the emotions spoke loudly enough for him to remember that he really cared about her.

His eyes squeezed shut as he tried to remember more about this person. Remember what they'd done together and why he cared so much and worried even now if she was okay. He wanted to know why he cared he really wanted to know but nothing came.

Frustrated tears fell down his cheek.

"Bella.." Was whispered in a soft voice as they boarded him on to a platform and in to the machine. The word Bella drummed in his head along with the word power. Each time one faded and the other got stronger.

Bella Power Bella Power Bella Power Bella Power Bella Power

The light was fading with every heart beat. He knew he was forgetting the most important thing in the world to him but now he couldn't even remember her name. Her face. What her was. Just that something was missing again.

He was so overcome with sadness that he didn't even notice the contraption turn on. The pain came and washed away the sorrow. There was only pain that stung through his entire being. What had remained of the light was quickly eaten up in to the darkness of him self. He'd tried to scream as this process was going on but nothing came from it. Only the feeling of raw pure pain and something more.

Power.

He was being baptized in raw pure power. And power had took him by the hand and accepted him as and equal. He was completed and perfect. He was power.

There was no need to walk when one of the white coats gathered him. He was carried as if he was some one of great importance. The white coat was very gentle and caring of Rowlys being.

He was place some where that he knew he could sleep. Until some one worthy of him self came he would sleep.

So thats what Rowly did.

White. Everything was white and gold.

He'd embraced another life, he'd embraced power, he'd been willing to sacrifice it all. Sometimes you had to give up everything to gain everything. You had to fly to

He'd never never been remarkable, far from the best Incubus, overshadowed in everything he did by others, others with more force of personality, others with more ambition, with futures to look forward to. He'd been drawn to SCREAM when he felt like a person without a voice. It felt like destiny. All around him his classmates prepared for great things, stood up sternly for what they believed in. What he had always believed in was himself. Everyone else had their motives, their reasons.

Maybe he could have been part of their causes, maybe he could have shared in their passion, but he had never been able to work up the courage to be more than a distant associate. A single serving friend, the strange kid that kept people at a distance because passion existed to be sold. His parents had told him that to give too freely of yourself was to fail at what his kind stood for.

So he had given little.

But in return, he had received little.

There were voices outside. He wasn't sure who they belonged to. Was he their candidate? Candidate. Another exam, another test he would have to pass.

He was ready.

As it began there was nothing but pain. Pain more intense than he'd ever felt, worse than any dissipation, and it wouldn't end. It wouldn't stop. He tried to focus, tried to think of how much he wanted to be worthy, tried to think of how much he wanted this power. But the pain was so overwhelming.

There was an end to the infinite moment of pain, he could feel it. He would be worthy.

So close.

Crack

A crack, a sound heard only to him, a sensation of shattering that cleaved cleanly through the agony, like ice breaking underfoot on a frozen lake. Beyond that crack there was no pain, no more fear, just an instant of realisation that like so many things in his brief life, he'd fallen just short of what he needed to be.

Everything was white.

And then everything was gone.

"You will never lead this clan!"

Those were the faitful words of a father the day his youngest son left to go to School, the last time the pair ever truly spoke to one another.

Funny really, looking back on it. If only he knew how much he was about to eat his own words. How much He would SHOW his father. It might take a while... but it would be enough knowing that some day, some day.


You see they were the 'Ru' family. A clan of Quilin that was small, but mighty enough. There were maybe fifty or so within the clan, the largest Quilin clan known to have just over a hundred. So while the clan was not the largest, they were known for their pure breeding and military-worthy blood lines.

"Takeru, What do you think your doing?" The words spoken barely controlling their anger, just holding back the wrath of which he knew his father had to work ever so hard to control. Keru was certain that if his father ever truly unleashed the full weight of his wrath, an explosion would take out the country side.

"Nothing father." Which was the harsh truth of it all, and the reason for his Razan's harsh words.

Another word for Razan, if dealing with a different species, would have been 'king'. The Razan was their King, the Sheela their Queen. Takeru was the son of their Razan, thus he was a Wyeth, or Prince. Though behind his back, and sometimes to his face, they would call him little Wyeth... and like it says, it meant little prince. Keru was the youngest of the Ru clans royal house, with two elder sisters. His Quilin clan was traditional in that only a Male may be Razan and have a Sheela at his side, but his eldest sister was a strong warrior and even stronger with her mind... strong enough that she could rule if she found a powerful enough Razan.

It was something that Takeru doubted, but something that caused him never ending grief. Takeru was the youngest, but a ways youngest. His elder siblings were already well in to their adult years... while he was still a fledgeling, a young one. While his family was both strong of mind AND body, Keru was only strong in the former. The latter, well, lets just say he was always a scrawny thing. When his siblings were his age, though females were always usually the more lean, they were larger than even he current was. More battle ready.

Takeru was just a weakling. Thus the nickname was also a great insult.

"If you do not get up off your tail end and train you will never lead this clan! Dont you see that, are you trying to break tradition?" That was just it though, normally the duty of maintaining the bloodlines would fall to him being the only son... but for the first time, due to their unique circumstances, they were thinking about making an acceptation and giving the duty to his eldest sister.

And thus, he was a bit of a punching bag.

"Father you know i do train as hard as ANY of the other fledgelings, i can pass those tests!" Mostly, he added to himself. Some things he could not do. He just did not look Quilin enough to his father. Too skinny... too lanky.

"Can you now, Can you really? I seem to have heard somewhere you were more interested in your books than you were in the daily exercises we have." His fathers anger was almost touchable now, tasted on the tip of his tongue. He could not stop the reaction next, his breathing quickened and his pupils pulled back just enough for his Razan to notice. Thus he was caught. After all the teasing, after all the harsh words and bruises that result from the ABUSE of the system, he started to find ways to avoid the training if he could and set himself to the one thing he was good at training, his mind.

The final straw wa the look on his face, the look of defeat. Of finally realizing that he would never live up to his fathers expectations. "Fa-Father.."

That was when the Razan let part of his anger go, and backhanded his son so hard that he flew a good ten feet away, and stopped only because an object got in his way. "Out, get out of my sight. I have enrolled you in a school that will send you away. You will get your...PRECIOUS books and learning, but you will not be welcome back unless you can prove to me, and your sisters, that you are worthy of mind and body, and have the power to rule."

"As you are now, you shall never be king."



This was just over four years ago now... and long enough ago that it was surprising to the Quilin that he even remembered it so clearly. It jsut goes to show that it was easiest to remember the down points in life than the good ones.

They were leading them away now, the trio of them going down a clean corridor of white and bright lights. Of disinfectant smells and squeaky clean floors. His eyes were closed just as he recalled those memories, but they opened enough to become aware that people dressed in all white were grabbing them, guiding them apart. Looking over his shoulder he noticed that Jinhai, and Dis too were being pushed in to different rooms. Rooms were labeled, rooms that were numbered.

Was his life in Amityville worth it? He had learned quite a bit, both about the outside world and the world within his books. He learned that it was not just a world with spartan rules and systems, it was a world with different passions and even more confusing emotions. In his clan all he remembered was pride, arrogance, and even the need to prove ones self.

It was something that Jinhai had learned to see. Though while he was proud of his linage, it left him open to attack on the other front. The softer emotions embarrassed him, caused him to feel things that made him feel off. Different. Jinhai saw that somehow on a deep level, and protected him. The only reason Takeru was so defensive about being protected was before him, no one protected him.

They left him out in the rain, ready to either rot or stand on his own two feet. So the fact that the dragon had protected him, made him feel weak. It took him long to realize though that he was not protecting him from pity, but oddly their relationship grew in to something. Something that he could only really give to Jinhai, he had never given that to anyone before. That being? Friendship. Betrayal had hit him deeply with him, but it was not enough to break the bond they had forged. Tarnished maybe, but it was there.

Dis was a different story all together. He was a selfish, sex hungry vampire whom would have done anything to get in to his pants. This was also something that he was not used to. This...tender emotion of lust, and of other things, he was not used to. Sex was something to produce more offspring, it was not something of leisure. Dis was persistant, he was never giving up.. and he was loyal to his causes. It was something Takeru could respect, even if the vampire never did get to taste his blood. While he HATED the other for his actions... he still had forged a bond with him. Not as strong as Jinhais, but none the less appreciative.

It was what caused him to watch over his shoulder one last time, as they separated the trio in to the three different rooms.

Goodbye, see you soon.

Were the words he said in his mind as he turned his back and let those cloaked in white do whatever needed to be done.

This was his decision, his right to do. He chose this. His whole life he kept being told what he could and could not do... and this was one thing he knew that he COULD do.

Stepping in to the chamber, the door hushed closed with a click. Closing his eyes once more, a deep breath. A release of tension.

He waited... the feeling of the dark threatened to swallow him in.

Toss him in to the abyss.

He felt something click in his mind a moment before it went all dark... the words said.

Just you wait, i will show the world.

What only i can do.

More often than not, Dabir was alone, but that was how he preferred it. His classmates grated his nerves too often, tested his patience far more frequently than he would have liked it. He was the student who intentionally searched for isolation, but never found it for long. He was the one who sat in the corner of the classroom, reading a book or staring out the window while he ignored everyone else.

His grades were good. When his parents asked about his friends he casually rattled off the names of random classmates to quell their curiosity before he retreated to the safety of his room. Dabir didn’t need friends. He was fine by himself, but sometimes he would stare at his class, watch them laugh and yell and cry. Sometimes he would wonder and he would try and he would frown and go back to his corner again. Each attempt he remembers with annoyed clarity. The first time had led to more flirtatious confrontations with Dis than he would have wanted. The second time had resulted in a voice even croakier and raspier than before. The third had given him a slightly-spotty memory. But still there was a tiny piece of loneliness nailed deep in his heart that had him going back for another try.

When figures decked in white grab him, Dabir glares at them and lets out a loud snort, his tail whipping back and forth. He doesn’t need to be escorted, but they still don’t let go as they transport him to another chamber. Narrowed eyes try to take in his surroundings and he comes to the obvious conclusion that this was not what he had agreed to. He had agreed to power and knowledge, not to being jostled around like cattle. He lets them take him to wherever because in the back of his mind he is still curious. What lies beyond Amityville and everything he has come to know and grow fond of? He wants to know.

He didn’t wish for power, not physical power. The catoblepas was satisfied with his abilities—a poisonous breath that could send others into furious fits, a pair of legs that could deal out monstrous kicks. No, what Dabir desired was knowledge. Who was this reaper, if he was a reaper at all? What were his intentions behind this offer for power?

Dabir is finally brought to the chamber and he’s not sure what to make of it. It’s small, big enough to fit him in. He hesitates, his tail swishing. Dabir looks back at the white figures standing behind him.

Maybe he could still turn back. Maybe he could return to Amityville and go to his dorm and smirk stupidly as he brandishes his crown for no one else but him to see. Maybe he could go back and graduate and settle someplace quiet and spend the rest of his life as a cranky hermit. He had never wanted much, despite his good grades and decent strength. He had no desires to rise to a prominent political position or to help others or to do anything at all. What Dabir wanted was a small hut in a place far away and alone. People could call him a geezer for that. He wouldn’t care. It was the truth anyways.

Dabir takes a deep breath and looks into the chamber again. The boil doesn’t speak because he knows they won’t answer nor will they let him leave. There is no need for verbal directions. He already knows. His boots clack softly as he cautiously steps inside.

The chamber slides shut once he is completely in and he quickly turns around. His face contorts into a confused expression as he presses his hands against the wall. Dabir opens his mouth to say something, but only a scream tumbles out. There is pain racing through his entire body, every fiber and particle of his being. Somehow his fists pound against the walls, but the pain only escalates. He still bears with the pain as he kicks the wall, but it’s futile. Was this power? Because power really Jacking hurt.

Dabir tries to yell, but stops midway as he silently tells himself he’s not leaving anytime soon. This was his choice, after all.

This was his choice, and he was going to stick with it.

Everything turns dark. Someone picks him up and grumbles about “too bulky” and “what the hell is this?” but Dabir doesn’t say anything. He’s too tired. He wants to sleep, so he does.

Dabir sleeps for a long time.

Octavia was in a haze, not really sure where she was going, or why. She was going to have a dayscare, were they going to give her a dayscare? All of the scarelings she could help. Closing her eyes for just a moment and there...there she was. The elderly reaper that had run the dayscare she had went to as a child, who had stayed with her and gave her extra bits of Fear candy when all of the other children were gone and her parents had still not come. Reaping they told her. Her parents were some of the best. Wasn't she lucky that her parents had so many jobs to do? That so many people wanted them?

She wanted them.

But Grammy had watched out for her, and she was going to be just like Grammy when she grew up. She started with the sweaters, and then the apron, wanting to look just like Grammy. Then she had started to help with the even younger scarelings, until one day Grammy took her aside and told her that she wasn't going to be there anymore. That her time had come and she was ready to go, she was ready to let her Fear return to Halloween.

The next day Octavia had left for Amityville.

She could feel herself being led along, but she just let it happen, not really caring at this point. No, wait, she had to be like Grammy, she had to help the scarelings that were like her.

Then the pain began, her Fear being moved and ripped away. No, she did not want this. She did not want power, she never had. She wanted to be like Grammy.

Grammy let her Fear go back to Halloween.

Weaponization failed. Bring in the next subject.

“Oh darklin, I TOLD you you could put meat in the sandwich! I’d be fine just eating the bread,” May said.

Wait... no, this wasn’t right...

“Well you SAY that, but just bread ain’t enough to keep you goin!” Tex said, grinning at her. “You don’t like it?”

No... it hadn’t happened yet... it wasn’t Moonday!

“It’s a bit... um... well honestly, it’s a little bit strange. Not that it’s bad!” May said quickly. “It’s just--strange.”

This wasn’t happening--it was going to happen--he’d promised--Him and her, they were meant to be. He’d sworn it was a fact the moment he’d met her!

Slowly silver eyes opened, taking their precious time focusing. Metal was all around him. The lake, the breeze, and most importantly, May, was nowhere to be seen. “May?” he asked, forcing his heavy, unresponsive body to sit up. “May! Darklin, where are you?” Where was HE? He stopped as he heard voices--voices that seemed too far away for him to catch all of it. The only word he did manage to catch was “candidate.”

“Candidate?” he demanded, “candidate for what?”

No one was paying attention to him. He was surrounded by metal, alone. He--he didn’t want this. He didn’t like this. He was going to die without even going on a single date with May. He’d barely even gotten a kiss! “HEY!” he bellowed, rushing towards the metal wall, hitting it hard with his shoulder. “LET ME OUT!” He slammed into the wall over and over again, using all the violence that he hadn’t used before--that he should have used before. “LET ME OUTTTTT!”

They were ignoring him, still. Even with his being an adult now--almost. He’d worked so hard, come so far, and here he was, nothing against a simple metal wall. He held out his hand, trying to summon his guitar, trying to do anything to free himself--

And nothing happened.

He turned, looking at his empty hand. What had he joined DETH for? Why had he tried to save these candlejackers? They were humans, he had to believe they were--otherwise his own people were doing this to their scarelings. Why had he rebelled?

His father had been proud of him--proud for the very first time, it seemed like, when he’d announced he’d gotten into Amity. Amity was one of the best schools around. And even with all the crap the family was going through--all the suffering that Vegas had inflicted on them with his gambling addiction and eye for pretty ladies--it was still a rush for the cowboil when his father had clapped him on the shoulder, grinning widely around that thick cigar he was always smoking.

“I’m proud of you, boil. You go into that school and show them just how jackin’ sharp the Scythes still are.”

Tex turned, looking at his twelve year old brother, a little grin on his lips. “You’re gonna follow me, aren’t you?” he asked Austin.

“Yeah, maybe,” Austin said with a surly look on his face.

“It won’t be long at all,” Tex said. There was a gleam of joy in Austin’s silver eyes that betrayed his real feelings.

Then there was the moment he’d met May. She’d been protesting outside of the school, so enthusiastic about her plants, despite the way people were laughing in her face. She’d been adorable. The big cowboil had lost his heart and his head at that moment--but he just... failed when it came to talking about emotions. For so long he’d tried to come up with a way to ask her out, and when he finally did--

It was over. He was back in the metal room. More like... a tube.

“I just wanted to have a date,” he said quietly, his head hanging as he reached up, touching the wall. His hand spasmed against the steel as the pain hit, but he didn’t make a sound as his core was shattered--never to be brought back again.