The Malice of The Dead (Slightly Censored Version)
Well, Lars twisted my arm and I’m posting this now. It’s a censored version since the original has spoilers for MSV3. Malach belongs to @rnainframe and I while Jude is all theirs.
TW: Suicide (details vague), Death (Asphyxiation, Head trauma, Stomach trauma?), Manipulation
“No, no, no, NO!” Desperate fists pounded against the inside of a dome, trying to grab the attention of distant figures walking in the opposite direction.
They had been called here to act, to perform for an upcoming reality show where kids are trapped in a dome, they had been lied to. The moment their brilliance was called on set, the contraption had closed with no warning, and no chance to escape.
Their hands slid down the transparent walls and they gripped their hair, pulling it in distress. Those fucking assholes, trapping them here, with no chance to escape. This had to be a prank right? There was no way they’d… Die? Right?
They took deep breaths, trying to calm their pounding heart and suffocating fear. It’s okay, of course they wouldn’t leave anyone as important as them here forever. Even if they did, once news got out that they were missing, there would be rescue groups practically climbing the walls to get to them!
With those comforting thoughts now in mind, they turned around to enter the set. Might as well make themselves comfortable while they waited, right? Exploring the school a bit, they found some dorm rooms and chose one at random to rest in. This wasn’t so bad, a short break from their super busy life, that’s all.
They waited hours, and hours turned into days. The cafeteria had been emptied of all food, but they had managed to find snacks that had been left behind. They had been forced to scavenge for food, reduced to a mere animal to survive because of these people.
They hated them. They hated them so much that it flowed through their veins and set their mind ablaze with horrid thoughts of their brutal deaths. They wanted them to suffer for what they did to them, they wanted them to suffer so much more.
By the fourth day they couldn’t take it anymore. [REDACTED FOR SPOILERS]
Their captors finally returned a week later, only to find a rotting corpse in a frigid room. Considering their plan a success, they began to exit, only to hear a familiar sound. The familiar sound of the dome closing.
Freaking out, they fled the college, into the courtyard where they saw the unmistakable cover of the death trap they’d created.
“Come on, we need to get to the failsafe.” One of them yelled and began sprinting again, only to be tripped by the chilly foot of one of their cohorts.
“What the fuck was that for, do you want us to die here.” They snarled, getting to their own feet and shoving an icy finger in the other’s chest.
“’Ey, don’t blame me! It’s not my fault yer a fucking moron who can’t watch where they’re going.” The accused shot back, voice angrier, more malicious than it had any right to be.
“Who are you calling a fucking moron!” There was a shove and the one who had tripped ended up on the ground, head cracking against the hard cement and dying instantly.
There was a sickly pause filled with the utmost horror after that, before all hell broke loose. Accusations were flung and altercations broke out. One man was strangled to death, another punched so many times in the gut that his vital organs stopped working, and this chain of brutality only continued until one was left standing.
The unlucky soul dropped to their knees as whatever was driving them disappeared all at once. They were covered in their friends’ blood, surrounded by their corpses and for what reason? Why was all of this done.
“I think you know why this all happened.” A voice like static permeated their mind, turning all other thoughts into a vague fog. “It was karma.”
Karma? Wait, the voice was inhumane but familiar… Could it be?
“My name is not important anymore. I died in the role you gave me and I think I’ll have fun playing it for the rest of time. I am now the newly christened Malach.”
Without their consent their hands moved to their throat and they began scratching at it, each mark felt like a trail of ice and they screwed their eyes shut as tears of fear rolled down their face.
“You killed me, you know. You deserve this, you deserve to die and to suffer.” The scratching got harder. “You’re all just a bunch of thugs and the world would be better off without you lot. But…”
The scratching stopped and they just gripped their throat. Before them they could see the figure responsible for this, a black wispy shadow of a human with other departed souls surrounding them. Sticking out their hand, they grabbed three of them at once, which slowly disappeared into their smoky skin, causing their form to become more monstrous with sharper teeth and claw-like hands.
“The world is to blame for all this too. They were supposed to come find me, but they failed, so I think everyone deserves to suffer.” A demonic grin. “So for now, clean up this mess and be my messenger, bring others to me so they can suffer the same fate.”
They stuck out their hand, as if waiting for a handshake to seal the deal, and this pour terrified soul took it, fearing for their life if they decided not to accept. Their hands met and it was decided.
This cycle continued for years to come, souls twisted by hatred only to die and become absorbed into the amalgamation of malice, Malach, with only one surviving to become the messenger and continue the wretched deed.
When it came to a group of high school kids though, and one adult, a new tactic was decided. After so many deaths things got boring, so allowing them to fall into a false sense of security only to have it torn apart with a little push every now and again would be an amusing way to proceed with this round.
They still needed a messenger though, someone to enact their will and become their prophet. Out of everyone their eyes finally settled on two, an author and psychologist. Their hatred against the world and knowledge would prove beneficial, but how to choose.
Well, there was only one way that would be fun.
Breaking down the author’s resolve proved difficult though, apparently lifelong exposure to the damned helped one build up an immunity. It took a while but eventually he was whittled down into a husk of a man, a puppet ripe to be controlled. Luckily, the other didn’t have such a wall up, and the fight for this status began.
While the anger the author showed was always welcome, the twisted nature to the psychologist was enthralling, and when the knife was driven into the palm and the relived trauma made it impossible to push the author anymore, it was clear who the winner was.
After waiting a while for everything to settle down, the twisted spirit entered the psychologist’s room, a wave of sickening nostalgia hitting them as they noticed the faint blood stains on the floor and wall. Ah, a good choice, no wonder they felt so drawn to them.
Possessing the sleeping form, they filled the world with fog and used the illusion that came with dreams to hide their true form under the human one they had so long ago. It was almost too difficult to take up the guise of humanity again, after everything they’d done the skin just wouldn’t sit right, but difficult or not they pulled it off.
Searching into the distance, they spotted just the person they wanted to see, looking around in a dazed manner. Standing up straight and putting their hands behind their back, they approached in meaningful strides.
“Ah, hello there.” They greeted, grabbing the attention of the other.
“…Who are you?” The psychologist responded, trying to hide their distrust and reaching for a pocket knife that wasn’t there.
“Straight to the point, I see. Well, luckily I like that about you.” A forlorn smile painted itself on their face as they stared longingly into the distance. “I used to have a name, a long time ago. Can’t say I remember what it was, but Malach works for me. What do you think, Jude Atlas?”
Jude stiffened, hands stock still at their sides still trying to hide their reaction, but that was an impossible task to pull off if the someone you were trying to fool was in your mind.
“How do you know my name?”
“I’m just someone who’s taken an interest in you. I think we could be of use to each other.” Malach answered nonchalantly, looking almost bored at the question before perking up again. “People here don’t trust you, they want you dead. I just want to help you.”
They could sense that Jude didn’t even begin to believe that. With a bored sigh, they shook their head before turning to walk away.
“I’m not interested.” Before they could take even one step their feet froze in place, quite literally as ice crawled up their leg.
“I see, but the thing is, you don’t have a choice.” The fake friendliness was gone and venom dripped from their tongue. “If they don’t kill you, then I will.”
Malach snapped their fingers and the gloves on Jude’s hands were consumed in a blue flame. Before they could even react, the fabric was incinerated and the fire was gone, leaving their hands bare and in the open.
“I think it’s important before a deal that no party is hiding anything.” Their skin chipped off of them in flakes, revealing their right hand as a horrible, inhumane claw made of smoke, and deformed crown floating slightly above their hand, otherwise it mostly stayed together covered in cracks.
And then they stuck out their hand, waiting for the promise of this game truly beginning.
