Mystic Syn

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I guess, technically it’s for Linear, but eh. I wrote it just because and it helped me relax and I got to listen to songs on repeat for hours to induce writing. It ain’t perfect, but I had a good time writing it.

  Corvus Lawless looked up at the skyscraper, tilting his head at the towering building. It wasn’t too different than the ones that were at home, and yet it was always strange to see something that was reminiscent of home, but completely different. 
  The shining windows reflected only the gradual sunset, the colors popping. The architecture wasn’t far off from some of the buildings he’d seen in capitals. It reminded him of the café back for some reason. The name of the cafè eluded him before he could grasp it, but it had him reach up and touch the scar the Angel of Death had given him, which spanned from his left temple, running across his face and ending at his collarbone. It was in that very cafè where he had received that very scar.
  The white gloves’ fibers briefly brushed against the scar, memories of the incident coming to mind. 
  Flashes of him trying to kill a girl, but a boy had come in and saved her life by having Corvus end his instead. It had only taken four shots; well-placed shots had killed the young man. Corvus had accepted it, aiming his gun at the girl again, only to be interrupted by the Angel of Death herself. With that––
  He quickly snuffed the memory with a gentle tap into Obliviscatur.
  A surge of strength flowed through him for a second, subsiding when he stopped tapping. The memory returned––if only fuzzier than before––while the strength faded slowly.
  Not yet, he thought, turning to see a group of office workers walking into the building. But soon.
  Well, he was bored. 
  He couldn’t go in and demand the information he wanted, but he needed to wait to Capture this memory of boredom. It would go into his Stores, lying in wait for him to use in battle scenarios for strength.
  His white trench coat shifted in the soft breeze and light drizzle, opening it up to reveal more white clothing underneath. Everything on him was white: his formal boots were white, his slacks were white, and his dress shirt was white. He was practically a beacon of light, but he didn’t care much. 
  What made the difference about his intentions of the clothing choice was the gold threaded in the trench coat. It glittered, only visible to the people who looked hard for the little bits of color.
  He pulled his gloves on tighter, a hmph sound escaping his lips as he pulled his stark white hair with faded black ends in a low tail.
  It’s about time I took these matters into my own hands. 
  Corvus took a look around, then walked into the building. The automatic doors opened without a noise, which made him feel a bit impressed with this world. They weren’t as technologically advanced as his home, but they certainly were going in the right direction.
  The lobby wasn’t anything special. It looked to be your run of the mill workplace: potted plants tucked in the corner and on tables, the soft chairs and sofas placed all around the room, magazines tossed carelessly across the small tables, and a tall desk where the secretary sat behind, doing her work. 
  The bystanders in the lobby looked up at him, but returned back to their papers, screens, or hands. Why they were all here wasn’t his problem, but he had something else to take care of. If they got in his way, he wouldn’t show mercy.
  Striding over to the desk, the secretary turned her head towards him.
  “I need to talk with Naito,” he said, leaning forward against the desk.
  “Oh,” she said, smiling. “Do you have an appointment?”
  “No, but I don’t suggest you keep me waiting,” he purred, hints of madness appearing in his gaze, his fingers tapping against the wooden surface.
  The secretary’s smile faltered. Her eyes looked for an escape, but couldn’t find any. Looking defeated, she gestured towards the door of the staircase on the other side of the room.
  “Seventeenth floor. Third door on the right,” she said, then returned to her paperwork.
  An ambush it is, then. Corvus smiled wickedly and gave her a curt nod, walking over to the staircase and opening the door to ascend the staircase. She wants me to be seen, or she would’ve offered the elevator.
  His heels echoed across the cement staircase, the emptiness ringing in his ear as he climbed.It reminded him of the Pacis Headquarters, the emptiness on point. Surprising how those memories were still intact and had not been taken away by Obliviscatur.
  It was no wonder why Naito was drawn here of all places. The place must’ve reminded him of his former home, even if the emptiness could be overwhelming at times. Or maybe because he couldn’t escape the memories of the Pacis like Corvus did. The emptiness embodied the Pacis in every way possible, and he guessed that Naito knew it as well and still chose this place to be his base of operations.
  It wasn’t until he passed the seventh floor when he heard doors opening and footsteps coming down the stairs was when he realized he’d been lost in thought. The echoing sound of footsteps was making it hard for him to find his thoughts, let alone distinguish how many people there were, but the sound of guns clicking made him guess that there were about four people aiming at him.
  Per the norm, Corvus smirked and held his empty hands up for the bodyguards to see.
  “What kind of business do you have with the boss?” a man––supposedly the leader of this little band of men––called out.
  Corvus raised his head towards the voice, catching sight of the man on the staircase above him. He cocked his head at him and his comrades, studying them for a bit. They had automatic guns, all armed with aiming lasers or scopes, pointing their red lights towards his chest.
  “What business he and I have,” he said, the mad grin growing larger, “is our own business. I don’t like talking about my business to mere bodyguards, since they have the uncanny ability to talk to the most unseemly of people, if they’re under pressure.”
  “The boss doesn’t recognize you or what ‘business’ you have with him,” the man said, completely ignoring Corvus’ comment. “State your name.”
  Of course there’s cameras. “I’m hurt. I really am,” he remarked, sarcastically, acting shocked. “He doesn’t recognize a fellow Mystic. Tsk, such a shame.”
  A brief moment of silence followed, then the leading man nodded. The guns clicked again, this time ready to fire on him. Their fingers were already squeezing the triggers, letting the rain of bullets down.
  “If that’s how you want to play,” Corvus said, his mad grin returning.
  He tapped Obliviscatur.
  The wildfire blazed to life, eating away at his most recent and strongest memory of boredom in front of the building, turning it into energy for him to use. The Stored memory was eaten away, leaving him with energy. Most of the time, he didn’t have control over which memory Obliviscatur ate, but he could usually point it in the right direction. The stronger the memory, the more likely Obliviscatur was to use it for energy, and the more strength he was granted; however, in order for him to maintain that strength and energy, he would have to do something that most would consider to be unjust.
  It didn’t take long for him to speed up the stairs towards the men, avoiding the rain of bullets. Their shots all missed, shattering concrete and impaling themselves in the pillars or walls. A few curses came from their direction, but Corvus paid no heed to them.
  His trench coat flared up behind him, following his every movement despite the sudden burst of speed. He zipped up the stairs, climbing three at a time. It wasn’t even like the stairs were there, but that it was just normal ground. Quicker than the bullets, he ran up to the first bodyguard.
  The bodyguard didn’t have time to react when Corvus grabbed him by the face, driving the young man into the concrete wall with a burst of Obliviscatur’s strength. The wall practically crumbled from the force, the bits and pieces embedding themselves in Corvus’ grinning face. 
  The man’s blood spattered onto Corvus, crimson staining his pristine white outfit. His body spasmed, blood trickling out of the bodyguard’s mouth. His dead weight falling out of Corvus’ grip and onto the staircase, slipping down.
  When the bodyguard’s life faded, Corvus felt another surge of strength. The wildfire within him blazed hotter, craving more. The edges of his vision turned red, and his mad grin grew larger.
  Without thinking, Corvus moved out of the way before a fist came in to try and sock him in the jaw. Reaching up, he grabbed the fist, twisting it, then screams of pain came from the bodyguard who tried to strike him. His grin grew larger when he heard the scream, the wildfire growing in depth.
  He tilted his gaze down at the woman who tried to punch him, hints of sorrow and pity breaking through his mad-filled eyes for a spare moment, before being consumed by the madness.
  Corvus twisted harder, breaking her arm and twisting her to fall on the stairs in front of him. She gasped, trying to breathe after the air had been knocked out of her. She writhed, trying to say something. Without hesitation, he pulled out his handgun––Trèpas––and shot her three times in the head.
  More strength filled his body, enhancing the Stored memory’s original strength. The wildfire grew as he fanned the flames, letting the flames slowly consume him for the time being. The wildfire craved for more, wanting to eat any of the other Stored memories, but Corvus kept it on a tight leash.
  Blood spattered his clothing and pooled around his feet, staining his white clothes, but he didn’t have the time to dwell on it as he shot an incoming bodyguard.
  The man fell down the stairs, the bullet wounds in his head gushing blood and staining the stairs as he rolled down a bit. More strength flooded into his being as he watched the body. Through the crimson, the expression was instantly recognizable. Even in death, the expression of surprise and fear still shined through.
  Corvus relished those expressions.
  One more.
  As if on cue, the last man––the one who had been calling out to him earlier––bolted down the stairs, coming to the sight of his fellow bodyguards murdered and a man with a wicked, mad grin playing on his face. The bodyguard’s eyes widened in horror, pulling out a gun looking similar to a rifle and shakily pointing it at the man in white.
  Corvus didn’t say anything, then pointed his gun towards the last bodyguard, firing a few rounds into the man’s chest.
  The bodyguard gasped, dropping his rifle, thankfully not going off. Before he could hit the stairs, Corvus had already rushed to pull him up and hold him half ways over the railing down the tall staircase. He could feel the fear from the man as he was dangled over the seventy foot drop, but the man didn’t struggle in fear of what would happen.
  Frisking him silently, Corvus pulled out a key card from one of the bodyguard’s many pockets, and grinned at him.
  “Don’t worry,” he said, the grin becoming more mad. “Mors will give you judgement where it’s due.”
  The bodyguard looked to say something in protest, but Corvus quickly fired his gun two times, right in the man’s face. Energy strength soon after he shot, and he grinned. He pushed the body off the edge, letting the broken body fall to the far-away ground with a distant thud.
  Corvus let the flames of Obliviscatur die out a bit, letting a small spark of strength burn within him. The price of using that power was that he couldn’t remember if he’d ever been bored when he was surveying the building. It was a ghost of a memory, almost like a dream that he felt like hadn’t happened and he’d only imagined it. The memory was a bit fuzzy and really close to fading entirely, but he had been granted energy and strength. And he kept that strength alive while he fought.
  Because he’d been killing, his power granted him more strength.
  Such a strange power, he thought, climbing the stairs to the seventeenth floor while reloading Trèpas with a new magazine, for a strange person.
  The light turned green when Corvus slid the bodyguard’s key card through the slot. The little machine beeped happily, the thump of a lock turning and unlocking told him that he had chosen the right key card to use. He pulled the door open, seeing ten more bodyguards standing around in the hallway.
  They all stiffened in some way, looked at each other, and raised their guns at him.
  On instinct, Oblisiscatur blazed to life, craving the Stored memories or at least someone’s death to fulfill its hunger. Good thing that that was what Corvus had in mind as he grinned at them.
  BANG
  One down.
  Corvus swerved around the bullets, looking at them with the slightest hint of disgust. With a push against the wall, he zipped past three more guards, firing Trèpas into the bodyguard’s heads.
  BANG BANG BANG
  Four down.
  The bodyguards scrambled to try and aim at him, but he was moving quickly and surely. He shot anyone who got in his way, which turned out to be four bodyguards. They fell with a swift shot to the head, their blood spattering on his clothes.
  BANG BANG BANG BANG
  Eight down.
  With each new death came a new surge of strength. That strength propelled him to the last two, engaging them into hand-to-hand combat. He gave one a swift kick in the gut, driving the guard into the wall behind them. The wall cracked under the force, the guard hacking up blood from the impact. Corvus didn’t have time to fire a shot to end the guard’s life as a gun was pressed against his temple.
  Tapping into Oblisiscatur again, his movement speed was heightened. He snatched the gun holder’s hand, twisting it like he did with the bodyguard in the stairwell. Like before, the guard screamed when Corvus broke his arm, twisting the gun out of the grip of the man. The man gasped, horror filling his eyes when he looked over Corvus again. He gave him a mad grin, pointing his handgun at the man’s head, pulling the trigger.
  BANG
  Nine down.
  Blood sprayed onto Corvus’ face, and he enjoyed every moment of it. He let go of the body, letting it fall to its fallen comrades.
  “No!!”
  Corvus turned just in time for the woman he’d forced into the wall, tackling him to the ground. She held him down with her knee, pulling out her sidearm.
  Trèpas fell from his grip, skittering across the floor. A curse escaped, when he looked up at the bodyguard’s barrel. From behind the gun, the woman’s expression was filled with anger and hatred, even though she’d just met him.
  Looking at death straight in the face, Corvus smiled wickedly.
  “You can’t do it,” he whispered.
  “Shut up!!” she yelled, placing the gun right against his forehead. “You have no right to tell me what I can or cannot do!”
  “Yet you hesitate.”
  The gun shook, the woman’s expression faltering.
  “Let me give you some advice, dear,” he said, slowly positioning himself. “Never hesitate in a battle, especially when you have the upper hand.”
  With that, he twisted himself underneath her grip, sending her off with a surge of strength onto the ground ten feet away. He rolled, snatching Trèpas. He turned around to see the woman getting up, and shot Trèpas at the woman’s head without a second thought.
  BANG
  Ten down.
  The woman’s expression had turned from loathing to shock as she fell, right next to the man he’d killed right before her.
  Untapped strength wanted to escape in some way, but Corvus managed to snuff out what wildfire he had created within himself. The strength and energy was still there, but he needed to be in his Bloodrage in order for the strength to be used. Technically, he was still in it, but a smaller version of it; however, he didn’t have full capability to use all the energy.
  He stepped over the bodies, his shoes walking over the blood-soaked carpet. The dark hallway was a mess, but that’s what happens when people turn on him. Any one of the people from his past could tell him that, if he could remember what their names were. Either way, it wasn’t a good thing to leave him alone with people who wanted to kill him.
  Coming up to the third door on the right, he gripped Trèpas tighter. He knew better enough than to put it in his pocket. It was still hot from the battle from the stairwell and hallway, so it was just better to keep the blood-stained gun in his hand. Of course, he would have to clean it later, but that was something for future Corvus to do.
  He exhaled, and opened the door.
  Walking through the door of the office, it was what he expected: dark room, a desk, a few chairs here and there, papers and plans all over the place, and Naito sitting behind the desk. Surprisingly enough, there were no guards in his office. Either he had them all fight Corvus, or he was just short-staffed. The latter was the one that was the most possible out of the two options.
  He looked up at the underboss.
  Naito was young, younger than the Angel of Death. How he got into the position as the youngest underboss in the city was a mystery to him, but he would figure it out soon enough. He wore a tailored suit, the black edges complimented by dark blue lines. If he had enough money to spend on the suit, then he should have enough to afford more guards, yet he had little to none.
  He laced his fingers together, watching Corvus closely with dark blue eyes. “What do you want?” he snapped, obviously not wanting to deal with him.
  “Why,” Corvus said, closing his eyes as his mad smile split his face, “it’s obvious, Underboss Ji Naito.”
  Ji stiffened at the mention of his name, his eyes becoming cold. “I don’t know who you are,” he snarled. “We have no business.”
  “I don’t expect you to know me. You left before I made a name for myself.”
  “What’s that supposed to mean?”
  “What I’m meaning is, Ji Naito,” he purred, opening his eyes to look at the young man, “that you left Zvso before you could learn of me.”
  A ghostly blue apparition of a long curved sword shot from Ji’s back, as if being controlled by some sort of strings, and pointed at Corvus’ neck. It drew the smallest droplets of blood from the neck and chin, the droplets dripping onto his already stained clothes. 
  The blade looked like a spirit copy of an authentic blade, yet Corvus didn’t know if there were any blades that matched this description. It curved like a katana, only having one sharp edge. The designs weren’t anything he’s ever seen, something that closely resembled a flying lizard of sorts. The designs glowed blue, the whole blade following suit.
  Corvus merely smiled, watching the young man as he got up from behind his desk. Ji walked around the desk, but didn’t approach him, obviously not wanting to get into a fight with him.
  “Apparitions,” Corvus noted, glancing down at the ghostly, yet sharp and intricate blade. “A mix of a Transporter and Discord. Very rare for one of mixed Mystic lines to have a power this strong and precise.”
  “What. Do. You. Want?” Ji repeated, ignoring his comment as he glared at the man.
  “What I want is simple.” Corvus closed his eyes for a second, then looked back at Ji, the smile returning. “I want the location of the Angel of Death. I know that you know where she is, and you’re going to give it to me, whether you like it or not.”

.  .  .

  Q sat cross-legged in the Inbetween, her eyes closed to the infinite white around her. How long she’s been stuck in here, she didn’t know. Time slipped away from her, like sand through fingers. There wasn’t really a point to keep track, since time worked differently here than it did in the real world, or the world she was visiting. The Inbetween couldn’t be reasoned with when it came to time, so she’d decided to at least sit and try to control the emotions and feelings built up inside of her.
  She kept trying to control her emotions and feelings, yet they always seemed to get out of hand. It wasn’t like she could control them all the time; emotions were a part of human nature, not to be reasoned with most of the time. At least she was alone now, so she could try and control them. 
  It was better to hide them now, rather than letting them take control of her, which would lead her to do things she never wanted to do. Emotions only got in the way, and––
  Footsteps.
  Q opened her eyes, studying the white ground when His Highness sat next to her. He didn’t utter a word of greeting or at all. He left the both of them in silence that had once been blissful, but was now anxious.
  She couldn’t help but flick her wrist, expecting one of her knives to fall into her open palm. To no avail, no knife appeared in her hand. Flicking her wrist again, Q began to feel frustrated with the Inbetween. She tried harder, this time to try and tap into her power, but nothing came; in fact, the reservoir of power wasn’t even there.
  “Your weapons or powers won’t work here, Angel,” His Highness said, chuckling. “Even the Inbetween has rules that everyone follows.”
  She twisted her head towards him, giving him a death glare. 
  Highness raised his head, and bore into her eyes with his dark blue ones. A wicked smile was on his face this time around, practically begging her to wipe it off with a swipe of a knife. His long stark white hair wasn’t up in its usual tail, but it fell past his shoulders, resting on his legs. Like her, he was wearing white robes; however, it didn’t look out of place for him to be wearing that. It was something that he wore often, at least from her memories.
  “How did you get here?” she asked, sharply.
  “Years of practice and meditation, Angel.” He leaned forward. “The question is what are you doing here?”
  Her face contorted into a sneer, but she turned away.
  “Ah, so you were defeated and now you’re stuck here, waiting for Mors to either take you back to life or give you the death you’ve been waiting for.”
  “Yes,” she admitted, “but I’m waiting for my body to be ready so I can fulfill my purpose.”
  “Why does it matter?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow. “Your friends aren’t there, and your purpose is to kill. You know this already.”
  “What does it matter to you? They’re not my friends, but I know that they’re waiting. They might not know what purpose you say I have, but I know that my purpose is.” That’s what I hope, anyway.
  “Tsk, foolish to put your faith in them.”
  “What do you mean?”
  Q turned to see him smile again, the wickedness returning.
  “What do you mean, Highness?” she repeated, anger lacing her tone.
  Highness reached forward, tapping the air. Immediately, a full-sized screen appeared in front of them. It was fuzzy for a second, but the image eventually cleared.
  It was a live image of the battlefield, that same battlefield her body was. The figures around were blurred out, but they weren’t the people she had been with before her ‘death.’ She couldn’t make out exact details, but she was sure that they weren’t the people she was hoping for to be with her. They passed over her body, which she could see clearly; it was the only thing she could see clearly.
  He tapped the screen again, the image zooming in on the body.
  Her eyes… the dead sapphire was flickering into existence more often than the last time she saw it. They stared into the eternities, waiting for Mors to take them away. There were still tiny streams of smoke trailing from her eyes, but they were getting fainter and fainter with every passing minute.
  I’m running out of time, she thought with a panic. Mors might not make it in time.
  “So what?” she said instead, tearing her gaze away from the image to look at Highness. “My body is left alone, things like that happen all the time––”
  “Watch, Angel.”
  Q followed his gestures to the screen, seeing that… there was no one. 
  The people that were there were walking past her body without a glance, walking it over as if it was a part of the scenery. They weren’t anybody she knew. The strangers moved to work on… something, but she couldn’t tell what, not that she cared right now.
  They… no, they… wouldn’t. They… 
  “Your friends left you,” Highness said, echoing her thoughts. “They left to go on some adventure without you, even though you promised you would come back.”
  Her expression remained neutral, but she was screaming internally. 
  The times back when she had been serving under Highness fully came to mind. Those people she thought and considered to be her friends and had ended up betraying her came back in its fullest, the pain hurting more than it did in times past. They were the ones that made her trust with people broken.
  It was happening again. 
  The people whom she was getting close to had left her.
  They left her.
  A hand touched her shoulder, the pain from her scars flaring, but she couldn’t care less that Highness was touching her. How she was feeling pain in the Inbetween would have fascinated her, but right now…
  “You knew this would happen, and yet you allowed yourself to grow weak to form attachments to them,” he laughed, pulling her close. “You say that they’re not your friends, but you already care too much for them then what you want to admit.”
  The memories plagued her.
  They were taking over. 
  The times she wanted and tried to forget all the time were coming back in its fullest. She had trusted them, even loved them like they were her own siblings, but they betrayed her in the end. They had left her to stay with His Highness, suffering the torture and punishment she deserved. They escaped, while she suffered the consequences.
  Q didn’t let it show through her expressions, but her breathing was becoming quicker and more shallow. Beads of sweat formed at her brow, a few drops slipping down her face.
  “What’s this, Angel?” The sounds of his smile echoed in her ears. “You’ve grown to love one of them, like you did with Huoyan? The last time that happened… well, tsk, that didn’t end well for your lover.”
  Raw emotion threatened to claw out and tear both her and him to shreds, but she resisted. It wanted to make him pay for even uttering his name, but she fought for control over her body.
  Highness pulled in closer, his lips a mere inch away from her ear. “You know that only the weak embrace love, and yet you let yourself become so vulnerable to its temptations that you couldn’t refuse. And you still wonder why you’re so broken,” he whispered. “That’s why you need to kill him. If, and probably when you come back to life, you have five days. Both him and you will meet the same fate as your beloved Huoyan, if you choose to refuse.”
  His presence faded away, and she was left to her own emotions.
  It only took her five seconds to clutch her head, and scream.
  Tears of anger, pain, and sorrow streamed down her face. Everything hurt, even the things that weren’t supposed to hurt. Physical pain was only coming from her scars, but the emotional pain and trauma was coming from everywhere. Her mind wasn’t a safe place anymore. It would only lead her down paths she didn’t want to be on.
  Bottled emotions can only be kept in for so long. 
  The raw pain was let out, letting her scream her lungs out. It devoured her, eating away at anything that looked like hope or faith. It convinced her to give up on the hope that she could be a better person. It beckoned her to embrace realizing that she was just always going to be betrayed and left for dead.
  This was who she was.
  Yulong raised her head to the heavens, continuing to scream with all her emotions, letting the memories overtake her for the first time in years. She allowed the darkness within take over, consuming her soul and mind. The thought of even trying to go on was becoming less and less appealing by the second, the thought of giving into the darkness replacing it swiftly and without question.
  It didn’t matter.
  If she came back, she would only be alone again.
  Just like it has always been.

My friend and I paid quite the bit of money for this. And yes, it's in the plastic and going to stay that way for a bit.