faceless soldier

there was a time and place where i could not find you or recognize your face

[despairingshadow]

victim #2 || @natsume

▄︻̷̿┻̿═━一 ✖ Blood stains her hands-- blood upon blood upon blood, innocent, guilty, allies, enemies, bystanders. She doesn't ask questions; she doesn't resist orders; she follows through to the end, completion, because that's all she's good for (if she could call herself "good"). 

✖   The accidental death of one before elicits no emotion but disappointment, because she can see her failings, her sloppiness. There was no despair in the eyes of her victim, and there was no one to revel in the death. Now that she's confirmed the area (or facility, rather) is not enemy territory, she releases her careful stalking of the halls and treads with more confidence. A few third parties turn their head when they see her, fear in their eyes when their eyes lock with the dried blood. She senses no violent intentions from them, so she lets them walk on, faster than before.

✖   She has no destination, no orders, so she wanders. Her legs lead her outside into frigid air and she shivers. The short sleeves of her shirt and short length of her skirt exposes far too much skin during this season. More people, however, seem to gravitate outside, near the buildings, because she feels more eyes boring into her with different levels of intensity. 

✖   Her interest is not directed anywhere particular, but she walks towards one building. All the while, she feels a presence approaching behind her, though she can't sense hostile intent. Her guard rises again-- she doesn't know the caliber of skill of the residents here, so the lack of hostility may be a sign of peace or a sign of a true soldier. Before she opens the door to a new building, she ceases her movement, causing the person behind her to stop as well, and strikes. 

✖   Her knife is pulled out of the sheath under her shirt, and she moves to pin down her victim in the same moment. Her technique is slightly sloppier, leaving more room for struggling, because of the coldness of the air affecting her stance. In another moment, the knife is plunged into the right side of her victim's chest, away from the heart, but still striking through a lung.

✖   With blank eyes, she pulls out the weapon and watches as blood gushes from the wound. The damage isn't enough to cause instant death, but bleeding out is certainly possible (and she'll make sure of it). 

[awakeninghiseyes-deactivated201]

Struggling quickly revealed itself to have been a poor idea. The sickening sound of bones breaking didn’t reach his ears, but the sensation was as quickly felt as a snake’s strike. Somehow, he managed to give a weak cry as tears blurred his vision. In the end, it was just another spark of pain to add to the roaring background noise. After the initial snap, he could hardly feel it for all the sensation crashing into him.

Her answer was just as impassive as his question. He couldn’t say that he really understood it, but it seemed that she hadn’t been specifically targeting him. Intent didn’t change the reality of his situation, but he found himself feeling something toward this person. Sympathy, perhaps, despite not knowing what exactly that emotion was directed toward.

"That’s… okay…" Or at least, that was what he attempted to say. His words were losing their clarity, which wasn’t surprising given the fact that his blood loss was affecting both his coherent thought and his vocal muscles. In fact, it was likely that the only reason he was still able to do anything at all could be directly traced to the inherent sturdiness of this body.

Not that it would be enough to protect him from death. It was inevitable now, encroaching on the corners of his failing vision. This scene wasn’t unfamiliar, but he had always been on the other side of it. He’d stood in the middle of a nameless street in a nameless town, watching as that girl or that boy’s life slowly left them, unable to do anything.

It was fitting then that once again, just as the world was being ripped away from him, it seemed Konoha’s last thoughts would be of those two.

[despairingshadow]

▄︻̷̿┻̿═━一 ✖ As life fades from her victim's body, the struggles, the wriggling, slowly ceases. Her grip on his body weakens, but blank eyes, no guilt or emotion glinting in dulled hues, continue to stare. The tears at the edge of his eyes mingle with blood-- that's expected too since only the most hardened of soldiers are able to keep a straight face in death. 

✖   Gargled words sound from the overflowing mouth. She understands them perfectly, honed senses able to pin point different parts of words to make them whole. Resignation, again, characterizes the words, the two words, "that's okay." She's confused at the response. He's "okay" with death? Curiosity picks at her brain, but it's too late. At any moment, his heart will no longer beat and his chest will no longer expand or contract and his brain will no longer produce signals. 

✖   She wants to respond. No words, however, come to mind, so she remains silent. 

✖   The limbs under her knees become limp-- his body ends its struggle. Blank eyes stare at the ceiling, emotions display no longer, replaced by the dull overcast of death. Blood still leaks weakly from his neck and his mouth, but, once the heart stopped, nothing makes the blood flow but leftover momentum. She closes his eyes out of respect (he looks like he died peacefully now, if all the blood is to be ignored). 

✖   She stands in one motion and backs away from the body. Her outfit displays her actions, red splotches on a white shirt and gray skirt, evidence dripping off the weapon in her hand. It's best to leave the body like this, she thinks, and clean herself off to avoid suspicion. Or, she could simply kill all witnesses (but she doesn't know if this is part of Junko's plan, she doesn't know her role in all of this, so she should hold off on destroying pieces to her game).

✖   Before she leaves, she takes one last look at the body and wonders how much despair it felt being killed so randomly, so suddenly. Would Junko be proud? 

[awakeninghiseyes-deactivated201]

Konoha had been more distracted than usual today. He had slowly become used to that presence in his mind, as malicious as it sometimes was. When he awoke, however, it had changed. He couldn’t describe what had happened, but the feelings there were so different from the norm that it could only be those of a third person altogether.

His room had been reassigned as well and so the android was left without a single familiar point of reference in this facility. In a way, this made him more overtly aware of his surroundings. A sudden moment of attentiveness brought his gaze at the fleeting appearance of a head around the corner. Naive as he was, he didn’t recognize the threat held by that strange sight until it was hurtling toward him.

Red eyes flicker into existence a moment too late. Before that supernaturally enhanced strength could spread through his body in order to fight of the attacker, he already felt the cold, sharp edge against his neck. The sudden appearance of something red where it made contact surprised him. He was sure his ability hadn’t activated and yet, that red power had apparently manifested.

His mind felt strangely fuzzy and when he tried to speak that same red colour started to bubble up in his throat. His widened eyes of surprise were the only way he was able to communicate to the stranger.

Weakly, he struggled on pure instinct. Whether or not he was able to shake the figure off was meaningless at this point, but he did think he could faintly feel her grip changing in order to counteract his frantic movement. At last, he managed a very faint whisper through the blood in his throat, not holding any of the malice or fear that would be expected; it was a word of simple curiosity. “Why…?”

[despairingshadow]

▄︻̷̿┻̿═━一 ✖ Blood dribbles from the wound, each heartbeat making the red viscous fluid overflow and overflow. Blood dribbles from the sides of her victim's mouth as it overflows from his throat. It's a scene familiar to Mukuro. No emotional reaction contorts her face, not even the slightest flick of a brow, though she could feel small splashes of warmth staining her face. 

✖   As expected, in the throes of death, he struggles and struggles, and more and more blood pumps out of the body with each jerk. She applies more force to keep him pinned, perhaps too much force because, between wet struggling gasps, she hears a crack, and one arm goes limp at the elbow. Of course, it isn't like something like a broken bone or two matters to a dead man-- it's a small sacrifice to keep someone from escaping (no matter how futile the effort is) and ratting her position.

✖   Though, to make sure, she looks around her, again tracing every tile of the ceiling and floor and walls for the slightest threat. There is none, so she pulls her attention back to the matter at hand. A small pool of blood forms around the other's head, painting white hairs with red. She begins to wonder how to dispose of the body, if she should at all. Only a few of her missions required her to clean up the dead. Her thoughts are interrupted by a strangled voice from below. 

✖   Inwardly, she's surprised that the stranger can still speak (perhaps she's getting sloppy-- inept. next time she'll cut deeper until only bone attaches the skull and the body), and surprised still at the tone. No anger tainted his features or words, only a sort of resignation to his fate. She's getting too soft, she thinks, because she wants to answer those weak last words properly.

✖   "Um, I thought you were a threat," she says bluntly. "I guess you're not, though?" 

[despairingshadow]

▄︻̷̿┻̿═━一 ✖ Her mind is devoid of distracting static-- contemplation of her surroundings, worry about people (person) left behind, identity of the one trapping her. Survival is priority; once you're dead, your mission fails, and thus you become a failure (more than you already are). 

✖   A serrated knife ensures her protection, tightly gripped within her hand, the hand that displays the mark of a mercenary. She just barely peaks around a corner and examines the hall ahead. Dulled blue eyes trace the walls, ceiling, floors in a matter of a second, and she's flush against the wall once again. Her heart pumps hard within her chest, but that's the natural rush of adrenaline fueling her; her mind is devoid of distracting static-- fear is not something nature itself experiences. 

✖   One step, two step, a sprint, a tackle, the blade of a knife against the throat of an enemy (she presumes). Her knees pin down her victim's arms at the elbow, allowing no movement but the desperate wriggling of fingers. Her weight is manipulated in such a way that movement of the lower body is constrained as well. For the Ultimate Soldier, a single opening means death, thus she allows for none. 

✖   Only when a small trickle of blood oozes from the knife pressed against the fragile skin of the neck does it cross her mind that perhaps the person under her has a greater use while alive. However, idle thoughts of negotiations are fleeting when, a moment later, the same throat is slit, and, she thinks, speaking is impossible for the other now.

[con-cordium]

mukuro is here acting on prior reserve!

Welcome to the facility, Mukuro.

You have been placed in room 1Y located in corridor one with your partner Misaka Imouto, and your roommates, Maggie Lacivi and Haku Yowane.

☮ ℇxhaustion mod

[rapiisu]

by 韻子

[rapiisu]

※Permission was granted by the artist to use this image.

[saikorashii]

おおかみ

[soitenly]

My fingers and wrist are finally starting to feel better so I did another palette request. Mukuro Ikusaba with #13!