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[Video] Week 4, Day 3

[Click, darkness. Click, light. Bright sunlight. You can't really see where it's coming from, but what is unmistakeable is the stark contrast and sharp detail it brings the picture into. And the picture is the picture of a foot; not just any foot: a slim, almost dainty girl's foot, with a fading tan except for where sandal straps formerly covered it and flawless -- or flawless if not for the gaping wound located on it. It's not very big and circular; clearly a bullet wound. The closeup and almost deliberate-seeming lighting clearly show the opened flesh and the blood flowing from it, trickling in small, oh so proper rivulets down to the toes. Long toes that would be quite flexible in any other situation.

Maybe by now, you can hear a faint groan in a girlish voice.

Because it hurts, ohgod it hurts so much. Asano Rin is no stranger to pain, but still she's gotten away lucky, up to now. Minor bruises and scratches as a child, things that may have bled profusely and stung for a little, but weren't really dangerous; a slit in her belly that she'd been prepared for; and then dislocating her own thumb. The wind being knocked out of her lungs as Isaku threw her and the wind was knocked out of her lungs. Just recently, when she'd literally relived her childhood, a few more scratches.

In conclusion, this is different. It throbs in a constant pain, obnoxious enough not to go away after the first shocking impact. Right now, Rin's whole consciousness is filled by barely anything but hurt, blurring out all the other million thoughts (recent event, becoming a child, and then turning back, and already being in the clutches of this man, who was still a stranger to her but not his ways, oh no), dimming them to whispers that were enough to make her paranoid but not enough to truly alarm her out of her sort of pain-blinded state. Her head has lulled to the side, off kilter, but you can't see that yet, just wait.

The camera starts panning upward, from where her foot is standing on the grassy, mossy ground up her pale leg, pale as the sandal-strap marks, the muscles of which are tense; then further up still to her hip that is wrapped in the torn remains of her underskirt to just barely cover her most private parts. And then on and on, over a flat tummy that has a scar running down the abdomen and small, but round breasts, entirely exposed. The camera may have lingered there for a moment, but then it's already past the shoulder and neck on that head. That head that is kinda nodding forward and sideways, but still the expression is clear: contorted with pain, brown eyes wide, eyebrows slanted downward. Both are obscured a little by the bangs handing down in front of them, and her mouth is a little open, showing a hint of teeth.]

[Joker's arm is flush along her shoulder, buddy-buddy, because now, really, truly, they are buddies. He knows about her screams, and he knows about her childhood worries and mommy dependency, and he thinks he's got her number, this loudmouthed kid who couldn't even dodge a bullet to the foot. This loud-mouth girl without the guts, without courage, without stamina, who stands there and says she's sick of it and complains {just like a woman [bleeding bags of whores] so weak and pathetic and [dissonant] ineffective} and then can't even fight back.

Well, not that she had much of a chance. But who wants to play fair? a waste of time, a waste.

A hint of teeth and sweat on her face, and a blast of joy on his as the camera leaves his white, dirtied fingers, lazily supporting her body, and slides up to his high cheek bones and delighted, toothy grin. The lines on his face seem lighter, this time; as if a collagen injection, but obviously none found.]

You know, Rin, I was disappointed when I found out my pal Yukari couldn't bring me anymore bullets. Really tragic. But we can make this fun, can't we, pal?

[He gives her shoulder a squeeze, and purposefully seems to drag her about the ground a bit. The camera jostles -- it's now apparent the purple, yukata clad man is the film creator. He slips it down the ground, now becoming mood with her bleeding foot, and then back up to his face and hers.]

She's a beaut, ain't she, boys?

[It takes her a little. Her mind is still reeling with owowow it hurts, so there's a delay between Joker's uttering of his scornful, taunting words and their registering in her brain. But somehow, it seeps through, maybe because it's just that inflammatory. Much like the wound on her foot. But then he's already squeezing her shoulder, and she winces, and dragging her about, which elicits a hiss and then a full-on growl. She's had it, she thinks, she's had it more than enough. Already did before this whole business, when he was just talking to her. Well, now she has certainty. That her suspicions were true. And she can't even laugh, doesn't have energy to -- not even mentally. What a sad, sad world this is. But she closes her mouth, clams it all up, and her eyebrows slant downwards even further (if it's possible at all), and then she speaks.]

S... stop that.

[She was just putting one foot in front of the other as he dragged her, so as to not keel over, but now she's steadying her stance, trying to put up resistance. Not that she didn't do enough of that before, she thinks, but she's not one to give up. Like hell, she thinks. Who does he think he is? Who dies that asshole think he is? She feels indignant and enraged and oh-so-very helpless, and that fuels it even more. About this whole mess, having her clothes ripped off and then being shot -- way too quick for her to react; she didn't even see him pull out his teppo. Weird-looking teppo that it is. Rin is not used to such weapons, wasn't expecting it. Manji would scold her, and Anotsu especially. She has no energy to rage about that now, needs it to rage about the present and all that pain and humiliation. Because hell yes, this is humbling. This is so fucking humbling. She doesn't know if she's felt like this since the night her parents died. So pushed down to the ground until her body made a hole in it. Diggin deeper.]

stop it!

[More force now, more than a whisper. Not raspy, either. Just clear, sharp Rin-voice. Won't go down without a fight.]

[His laughter looks like this:

first the maw opens, and teeth and tongue connect with barking sounds of laughter that spit and spittle and flare up amongst a gouge of color that hits from eyes to chin to cheek. The pallid, white skin is flecked momentarily with brightness, and then the truth appears - his eyes are dots in nothinginess, that color the only thing that makes them seem living. His laughter is empty and meaningless.

And he's laughing at her because she's so very {pathetic} hilarious, and if he can remember {which he's sure he can [which he's sure he can't {memory is one of those fallacies that only the sane treasure} even get a flicker of a thought] get that spark back} the last time a woman looked so scornful and wanted to try such a fight --

BAM! He slams his heel down on her foot]

Stop what, sugar-tits? I'm making my presidential address! If you're worried about our precious here,

[and he grinds his heel into her wound, enjoying every tenuous tensing of her muscle, thriving, licking his insides with her sweaty temple -- my, a good idea! The camera settles awkwardly as the arm on her shoulder stretches to her chin, forcing her head towards his, and he gives a quick lick to her cheek --]

Our delectable princess, come see me. Find me. You know. Save her. Let's have some knights in some armor! It'll make oh-so-very gauche, and maybe just a bit fun? You think?

[He coos towards her]

You think, Rinny-Tinny-Tin?

[Everything goes white for a moment, just pure, near-blissful white. Her mind playing tricks on her, or being merciful. Whichever. She groan-screams, mouth opened wide and eyes going out of focus. It's really-truly-literally a world of pain. After the first few seconds, a word starts tricking in: why why why why why, rinse, repeat. She groans more, can't really articulate anything, or else she'd repeat her prior words: for him to stop, please, she's going to lose it. Whatever "it" is. Something she doesn't know, can't know, because she knows nothing but white and why.

But then, maybe an eternity after he's stopped talking, she starts getting down, reaching out some roots to sink into the ground again. Come save her, he said. Right, help. That's what Rin needs. She's going to use this chance, for who knows how long he's going to leave the video on. So she musters all of the strength she can stretch together. Looks at the camera.]

Yes. Help.

We're in --

[Cut to black.]


( 49 comments — Leave a comment )
Apr. 13th, 2010 04:19 am (UTC)
[ Video ]

[ This is --



Practically speaking, the child is nothing to him. He is not her father, her brother, her countryman; she is not of his clan, which is gone now, nor of his village (which he is not of, not now), and she is not anyone to whom he holds any obligations. Therefore, Itachi thinks, therefore it would be most pragmatic to watch this broadcast and then move on to the next. Perhaps he should put the irksome device aside, for he is still not certain that there is meaning to be found in this world, including his own life within it and the lives of others. There are dead here, and this girl may well be dead (a corpse, a ghost) already.

And yet. And yet. His heart is beating more quickly. Rising up. That physical symptom; that indicates a reaction of the body and perhaps the mind, does it not? The look on the girl's face -- her screams of pain -- they pass before his eyes, before the redness and black -- and he is not near them, not touching them, or her, and so they merely move past like a burst of light and sound, like a jolt of stimuli (certainly this is what his heart reacts to), and so much moves past him like this, in that quick, sharp manner that Itachi does not react to, that he finds himself returning to later, and analyzing, picking off the shelf and reading with filters and lens. This is what it means to be trained. Eyes honed. (Only he is always forgetting to remember why his heart is beating more quickly, and sometimes a human face is like a face you have seen before.

their faces. Like all the limitless faces of the dying. The tortured, limping pain of Mother, Brother. Whom he could not save. [Whom he could not save.])

viol e n c e : the intimate exchange, [[ his own f a c e reflected, wrenched with --

s a s u k e 's face: wrenched with --

sweating, panting, gasping, dripping with blood, trailing blood, blood splotches on feet, but he has walked past these images --

But yes, here is this image again. A child. A wounded child. A face, another face, that makes his fingers twitch imperceptibly and his eyes widen slightly, makes his heart flare, though he is uncertain why. It is only another face. Only another child subjected to pain, and Itachi knows pain. But his own pain was purposeful. Unavoidable. Intimate. He had no choice. To choose. To harm. To choose to harm, to render violence meaningless, to laugh at the most painful, soul-killing actions and find pleasure in them, when this, when hurting people, like this, had to him . . .

Had made him like this. No.

This is not what you hurt for. This is a perversion of all that makes suffering worth it; spittle in the eye of what makes a human able to find meaning, to find one's soul day to day in the ashes of impossible aches. Itachi thinks to himself. Considers. Realizes he hates it. Hates this man who trivializes the faces which have been everything to him, everything he, even now, is unable to show. ]

Is your desire for people to seek you out?
Apr. 13th, 2010 05:52 am (UTC)
Who knows, kid?

[Joker sounds like he should be in the '50s, sitting in a bar, whiskey in hand, cigarette out of the other. He is channeling James Cagney, and apparently purposefully. He speaks with lisps, and throws his voice in an obnoxious fake baritone]

Nobody ever knows!

[This voice dissolves into wicked laughter, layers upon layers of it, so thick and fierce that he has to cough afterwards]
Apr. 13th, 2010 08:44 pm (UTC)
[ video | private ]

[ So this is how it is.

Itachi remembers that a boy had warned him about this man. About darkness, sporadic violence (which is something Itachi understands far too well -- Hidan with his ritual sacrifices, his baths of blood, Deidara with his art of exploding the bodies of human beings) -- the crust edges of human nature at its filthiest, twisted out of shape, though Itachi cannot condemn, can he? He entered a world like this. Entered it of his own volition. Made a deal with hell, and even now, in the abyss of his nightmares, there are moments when he is unsure of precisely why he has made these choices, and why he would go so far.

But this, the squalid, sinking muck and rot that is within this man, that wells up like the rigid skin of the scar on his face, that is all dead, that hard crust: Itachi knows it. Has walked alongside it. Ate at its table. It cannot hurt him, not anymore, and he cannot fear it. But others could be hurt. Others could fear. That child. She is not ready to subject herself to these aspects of humanity. That is the perversion. If this man wants entertainment, it should be with someone who is more experienced.

(Itachi can feel the coolness on his skin; the droplets of sweat beading near his eyelashes, and his eyes -- which have been watching widely -- narrow. Soften, perceptibly.)

It is that time again. The darkness is out there. Calling to him. He must make that choice. Once more. The choice he made then. The choice he made that night; he accepted it, and nothing take that from him. It was his. This, too, must be his. Because who else would volunteer? He is dead. Or even if he is not dead, Madara has told him this world is only a place where humans are puppets to gods, to spirits.

How would one not remain a puppet?

By making one's own decisions.

One who acts for himself is invisible. He will be invisible. This is not his world. (Mother's face, blurring in his mind; shock to the system, jolt to the nerves.)

So it begins and ends again and again.

So it begins. That night. That choice. Here again. Someone must bleed. Someone must bleed. It makes perfect sense. ]

Naturally, I must inform you that it is not in my nature to condone the abuse of children, though I understand that there are moments when certain acts of violence . . . must occur, in spite of my feelings.

To that end, I would propose a bargain for you. You have my attention. You have my undivided attention, for now. Do you wish to hear what I would propose? If not, I will go onwards with my life.
Apr. 14th, 2010 03:04 am (UTC)
[Video | Private] 1/2
[Joker appears, brilliant smile, and then flashes away into an audio haze]
Apr. 14th, 2010 03:04 am (UTC)
[Audio | Private] 2/2
Go on.
Apr. 14th, 2010 04:03 am (UTC)
[ Video | Private] 2/2

[ . . .

He replied. Itachi had not been entirely certain that he would do so. ]

I was thinking of issuing a trade. I would offer myself in exchange for this girl. What purpose does she serve? Observe how small she is. She will not last long. [ A note of silence. ] I would last for far longer.

[ The adrenaline flows at the thought; he can feel the release within him, and it is not a feeling he is unaccustomed to at this point in his life. But he must be careful in making such a proposal. ] Of course, I could not let you kill me entirely. My life belongs to someone else. But my body --

[ It is without grace that he removes the kunai knife from his cloak, and the glint of the blade flashes in the sun; it should be evident through the video screen. ]

To perform jutsu, as we shinobi do, one must have the use of one's hands. If you tell me your coordinates, I will show you my good faith. I will prove to you I will turn myself over. You will see it. You will have your show.

[ He closes his eyes for a moment, breathing deeply. Ah, yes, it must be madness; others would say it is madness, but somehow, he thinks -- thinks he must not think. It feels like before. It feels right, this idea. This situation. Himself, as a vessel. It feels like power, in some way. Feels like a hot rush of power; like a back-and-forth. Like lightning. Like energy.

He holds the blade to one wrist. ]

I understand something of depravity. I understand something of the need for violence. Tell me your coordinates; agree to meet with me. I will destroy these tendons.

Does it not make you feel powerful -- to wield the knife, even from this distance? I am far more interesting than the girl.
Apr. 14th, 2010 04:14 am (UTC)
[Audio | Private]
[Not enough.

The spine-tingling numbness that came with shooting Rin in the foot could be matched, could be surpassed, could be a well of thunderous applause throughout his stomach, up fluttering through his chest. Giddy, he feels giddy thinking of dismembered hands and flapping tendons, falling about the land in bloody coils; gets hard thinking about it, wants it, needs it, throbs for it, the open bone, the frayed threads of muscle, the parted, hissing tendons, the pain and arterial spray.

There's only one catch, one loop-hole in the lacing pleasure dancing between his spine.

It wasn't happening.]

Cocktease! Ridiculous. I'd never trade such a pretty, suffering specimen for a fake show.

[Joker's voice comes closer, closer to the camera, hissing within the audiobox. Yes, please, come closer, give a real show --]

Give a little blood, ah? [His voice is thick as molasses but sliding through grasping, sweaty fingers, splitting up and out -- butterflies.

Would this man really cut himself?]

Give a little blood. Three inches long. Up the road, not across the stream. It's ineffective any other way.


Then, lover-boy, we'll talk.
Apr. 14th, 2010 08:45 pm (UTC)
[Video | Private]

[ Bleed. Something he has been doing for many years now, correct? ]

I thought you might say such words. Bleed. It is the simplest course of action in the world.

[ He is dead, and yet his blood still runs. Still runs as he inhales and -- and his head is rushing, fluttering with it, but the pain -- the pain is almost like, the whole thing is almost like plunging off a cliff edge, like something you cannot believe you have done until you have done it (he could not believe it until they were all at his feet -- ) ]

They did. Bleed. [ He is actually panting a little, arm trembling as the pain flares up, wetly, tip of the metal drags through skin, avoiding, with care, cutting too deeply on the veins, the arteries, where the blood flow would be too much, but it streams out, and the pain is nothing so much as is the sight of watching the body open, peel back as if at the touch of a surgical scalpel (this is a precise activity). ] Every one of them bled.

And yet . . . [ His voice is strained, stretched taut with the feeling. ] I am too numb from their blood to make myself react further. I suppose I cannot make myself scream.

[ Slowly. ]

I wonder if you could do better.

Apr. 15th, 2010 04:51 am (UTC)
[Audio | Private]
[The penetration of skin with blade or nail or whip or chain or spike or bullet, the parting of warm flesh, burst of moisture, quick, painful stroke, and the taste of it, on his lips, he can feel it trickle across his nerve-endings, down his spine, a jolt of excitement, adrenaline, his pulse picks up, and there it is, the break, cell after cell, bond after bond splitting down the length of his forearm and oozing out between the slit --

-- yes, yes he'd do it better, and he'd fucking cum all over this asshole's face doing it, to watch such a fucking large man twist and bend as his wrist broke in places unknown between knife and fist, he'd reach his hand up that forearm and pull his muscles out one by one, their fibrous beings snapping, twisting in his fingertips --]


And we'll talk, I promise.
Apr. 15th, 2010 05:43 am (UTC)
[ Video | Private]

[ . . .

Control. This is what the game is all about. Itachi hears the excited, hungry sound to the man's voice, thinks: You suppose you are entirely in control, but in a back and forth, in an instance like this, that is not the case. When you walk with someone else, this far into darkness, it's never entirely you in control. And to relinquish control: This is what puts him into power. To navigate these channels. He was always willing to go far. Farther than anyone else. Because the truth is, Itachi does not feel.

Not anymore.

Not anymore. So it is fitting that the blood that runs down his body is not blood which she has to bleed. It is not her blood. She is no one to him, nothing, but he, abstract, morally, understands that murder and torture are unacceptable things. He would list them as "wrong," and he objects. So it is fitting that so long as he is hurting, someone else shall hurt less.

And what is hurt? Hurt is nothing. It is the least important thing in this world. ]

Perhaps I should remind you that I am doing this of my own volition. If you want this, if you want to hurt me, if you want to be the knife, it will not do for this to be finished all at once.

I will go deeper. I assure you, but why sacrifice everything so suddenly? It does not suffice to be rushed. If I cut the connection right now, what will you do? Will you come for me? Find me? Finish the job?

[ But you could not, because you may feel like the knife, but I am the knife.

Bodies act upon bodies. Someone acted on his enemy's body. ]

I saw that someone carved you, too. Did you do that yourself?

[ But if it came to the two of them, what could possibly make him suppose he could finish Itachi? End his life? Destroy his body? It is Itachi's body to destroy, and he will choose how it is destroyed.

You have the illusion of being the knife, but I am the knife.

( That is how this works: You cut me. I am cutting myself. You hit me, hurt me, make me bleed, but I only hurt as much as I am pleased to hurt. That is how this works. The illusion of not having control. I have perfect control. Here is how you walk into darkness. )

He is already feeling a little dizzy.

It will hurt tonight, when he tries to sleep. ]

Say the right words and I will cut them. This hand will not be lifted against anyone, then. You broadcasted this to elicit interest. I am listening.
Apr. 15th, 2010 06:34 am (UTC)
[Audio | Private] 1/????
I don't negotiate.

[Joker's voice is thin and distant. That was not enough, ah, it was so tempting to just give her up for something like this. She didn't nearly suffer as much or as willingly as this fellow, and men were always the better targets, always the more satisfying, with their false barriers and their blocked woes, they took to domination like wolves with hackles raised and as you beat them, threw your fist against their slobbering jowels they whimpered and still asked for blood.

And this one thought he was playing games.

He didn't do exactly as asked. [He wanted a location. {a Hero! (Heroes are the best to make screa[yes!]m fuck him) rip him} a location, hero boy.] Cut all he like, bleed all he like, he wants Joker wielding the knife and [oh I want that fucking knife] he knew better, knew better, the best rewards came to those who waited and Joker could wait [I want that fucking knife] could wait could wait could ahahahahaha he thought he'd never find even close a thrill now that Bats was gone [one day his arm {split at the [his face split a the {his neck split at the [seams] seams} seams] seams} split at the seams one day, just like that, victory] victory and he thought he was playing games he thought he was a game player no one played games like the Joker

no one won battles like the Joker

no one]

Listen, sonny, I appreciate the peep show,

but you're not really serious

which is really quite a shame, everyone should be serious in speaking with me, it's absolutely a

one day

Now, listen

I once had a wife. A beautiful wife, sweet girl, chocolate hair, blue eyes. Real peach. The kinna girl everyone wants to bring home to momma, get her pregnant and have her raise some precocious mirror so the world'll just be a bit more pretty. Beautiful thing. Tiny. Nice. Problem was, she was shit in the sack. Absolute shit. Worst pussy you ever had. Thing was loose and flaccid and falling apart, stunk, couldn't shave it right, laid like a boring ol' starfish. Religion'd crushed her young. Girl didn't even know how to masturbate correctly.

I put up with it for a while, did my rudding best to enjoy fucking something so pathetic, but a man's got to get his kick's somewhere, right? Found a better girl in the brothel-house, took half my paychecks there. Wife got needy. Got upset. Noticed I wasn't around anymore. One night, came home, and all the lights were off. I hear this noise.

It's little and coming from the bedroom. I get closer and closer and there she is, hanging by her neck, snapped in two. The noise is the ceiling beams, creaking, you know, as her weight shifts to and fro, to and fro, to and fro. She's got her hand hangin down, knife between her fingertips, wrists all...


like you

bloody just like that, pretty boy,

and I take the knife and think, yeah, I'll do this too,


I think

I'll do this too

just bleed like that

take it like that

but I can't do it, can't slice the wrists, can't even touch myself it's no good it's not fun that way, I realize, I realize she was more fun creaking back and forth like that, bloody putrid mess like that

and I walk down to the damn brothel house and this girl, Lola, I tell her, here. here. Put me out. I'm laughing while she's hanging from the ceiling.

Lola, she takes that knife from me, and leans in real close and says, put you out? put you out? you want me to put you out?

put me out, please, do it, I don't deserve it, I says, put me out, I'm laughing while she's hanging,

and Lola says yeah you mother fucker you're laughing while she's hanging, and she keeps saying that over and over again as she grabs my chin and guides it down and says yeah you keep laughing, right? and I don't know what she's doing, but I don't care because I'm starting to laugh at her, too, her putrid whore tits and her putrid whore cunt, you know?

and she says, here,

and she says,

I'll just put a smile on your face that you can remember her by.
Apr. 15th, 2010 06:36 am (UTC)
[Audio | Private] 2/????
[There is a long hush of silence]
Apr. 15th, 2010 07:28 am (UTC)
[Audio | Private] 3/3
[He rises, steps towards the girl. She's bleeding, obviously, her foot looks nasty, he's going to have to make it worse somehow, he wants to hurt someone for this, he needs to hurt someone for this, to keep the high going, and he thinks, maybe now's the time, maybe she'll smile too, when she dies will the Gods keep her smile on her face? Will they heal her, those bastards down below? Will her limbs fall apart, will she be protected, is there --

He slips from the Hitomi to the girl in the back, and takes his gun. Yes. That's what he'll do. Before she has a chance to speak, he slams fingers against her chin, bruising rough, and shoves the gun in her mouth.]

You been listening, Rinny-Tinny-Tin? How'd you like a smile, ah? Make this day real damn bad for ya?

And Rin near-panics. Wants to catch herself before giving him what he probably wants, a nice show of fear ('cause that's what those types want), but then she can't stop the noises she makes, muffled high screeches. It's just that, well, there's a gun in her mouth, and the man's finger on the trigger (of course), so this could mean her end every second now, and when it comes down to it, that is still terrifying. This is the first time she says an honest prayer in years.]

[A blast of laughter, and Joker's nose is pressed against her as he wags the gun back and forth against her teeth and gums, before ripping it out.]

Well, whaddya say?

[This is revolting. This is just so damn disgusting right now, serving this guy's sick fantasies and being so damn helpless, she never wanted to be helpless again, but her hands are tied, not literally but figurativley, and that's even more powerful right now. A part of her irrationally wants to give in, wants to smile and say something nice in hopes of appeasing him, like maybe he'd let up if she just complied, but her rational self knows that this isn't even likely. It might only minimally alter the end result. Might as well say something that matters, as much as anything can matter right now. Say something to assess her situation and fate.

She pulls her lips together, penil-thin, swallows (but that only makes her really feel the dryness in her throat), and then she rasps out:]

What... what do I gotta do... to get out of here?

Out? OUT? There's no getting out! Don't you get it? You never get out of life; it's a mad game of bullshit, just keeps whirring round and round. Hey. I ever tell you about my bad day?

[He breaks into a cacophonous set of laughter, finally pausing to cough out the last bit -- too much, too much, and rises, smacking the gun across her cheek. The laughter dies immediately as gun hits skin.]

You get in! You get mad, you get even, you get crazy! When things build up what do you do? You lose it! You break it! You snap, two-four two-four! Pathetic bitch!

[Oh, fuck it. Rin reels from that hit, coughs and spits a bit of blood. Her cheek hurts. Her teeth hurt. And then she chokes, coughs some more, coughs a lot, until she spits something small and hard out. It lands somewhere on the ground, and she searches it with eye movements only, and then she sees a small white thing on the moss -- a piece of tooth.

Her mind's blank for a moment, and then she thinks, crazy? Yeah, right now she's kinda feeling it. Can't deny that. But she's not going there, no, Asano Rin is not. Isn't because that would be giving him what he wants, and isn't because she can't afford it. She lets it slide, and the insults, too; insults that would've made her angry in any normal situation, but this is so far removed from normal that she honestly doesn't even care. She doesn't say anything, just frowns and glares at the man.]
Apr. 16th, 2010 02:18 am (UTC)
[ Video | Private 1/2 ]


[ There are a few beats of silence. ]

Is that all. I was expecting a more interesting story. I had a beloved, once, as well. When I was thirteen. [ A moment. ] I killed her. And my best friend. My father. My mother. I killed every member of my family, my extended family, my clan, down to the final child. I cut through them, as you may understand.

[ He looks, inquisitively, at his bleeding arm. Yes, their blood ran like this, did it not? Slowly, he exhales; drags his knuckles through the wound. Drags his ring across the press of -- bloodmusclebone, where the pain bounces off the nerves, soaks down his spine. It rattles. It rattles and shakes, but this is not their blood. He could bleed all day, but he could not bleed them back into existence. ]

You suppose me to be a saviour, a white knight, a hero? [ He pulls his hand away; stares at his knuckles, which gleam, red and wet. Red with himself. ] I am the farthest in the world from such trite terminology.

[ The girl's voice filters through his head. He had tried to save her, but it may be that she is not to be saved. It may be that she, too, is one of the dead. And yet, this is the same girl who had told Itachi that the dead return to life here. If that is true, perhaps it would actually be in his best interest to goad the man into killing her. At least then her suffering would be more brief. But, Itachi thinks, it is looking more and more as though the matter might not be in his hands. He had wanted to save her, but he did not know her. It was more what she represented that he had wanted to save, but that -- ]

You think to impress me by this display? I, who cut down my own mother? Kill her. Either way, this matter is between us.

[ She will not forgive him. She will not understand what he had been trying to do. She will be another: It is the same situation once more. It is always the same situation. It is always himself, making a choice which results in death, and negotiating within his options. It is always himself, here. Here. At the border between the lives and deaths of others. Itachi is sorry for her life. Sorry for the way he is made. Sorry that he cannot be --

-- and the knife plunges back in, and there is a smooth, riveting crack -- ]

It does affect one's mind. Murder. I suppose we can agree on this, yes? You seem to be a man whose mind has been . . . affected.

[ He leaves out the part where he did not want to kill them. He always leaves that part out. Always. Always has to. Because he was pretending. (Is pretending. [Is pretending?]) But those were not pretend bodies. That was not his pretend Mother, cut up on the floor. That was really Sasuke's blood on his hand. This is really his own blood, on his own hand. Reality. Illusions. It can be hard to tell the difference. It can be so hard, some days. (Does the difference matter? They are dead. He is bleeding.) ]
Apr. 16th, 2010 02:19 am (UTC)
[ Video|Private 2/3 ]
I had been trained for the length of my life to kill, to commit this violence. And yet, when I walked away from that massacre of the blood of my blood, I felt a different man. I had drenched myself in blood, as I am drenching myself now. As you are drenching yourself. One does not walk back from that. Not from that.

I have . . . desires, you see. The bodies of women, as you describe, are mere fact to me. Like sunlight or trees. My tastes run elsewhere. The murder ran through my veins. I need it . . . like a transfusion.

[ A lie. At least, he thinks it must be a lie. He hates to kill. Hates death. Thinks he hates death. He is not sure. He has been lying for so long; he is never certain, and he is so angry at lying, at having to lie, that yes, he does want to hurt something. He wants to break something in half. Kick out its teeth. Crush its skull. Sever the joints of its fingers. ]

Doing the thing that I did -- it destroyed all sensation for me. Destroyed all pleasure. All amusement. All fear. You cannot frighten me. You cannot hurt me. I cannot, cannot even hurt myself. [ He holds up his hand -- stabs the knife through the palm as if skewering a piece of fruit. If he is not careful, he will pass out. He will pass out, but what does it matter. What does it even matter. ] The day I cut them down, this all became nothing to me. Killing you. Killing that girl you have. As easy to me as breathing.

Or torturing her, as you are doing now. I created a technique which can extend a few moments of torture to 72 hours. 72 hours of pain. Extended over three minutes. How does it make you to feel, to hear such a thing exists in this world? And it is mine.

So do not presume --

Do not presume to think I am anyone's hero.

Apr. 16th, 2010 02:19 am (UTC)
[Video | Private] 3/3

[ He had not wanted to kill them. It had been the worst feeling in the world. The feeling that had numbed all other feelings. That had left him like this. In this condition.

(( And yet. Yet. He is bleeding. He is feeling light in the head. Yet. Yet. He remembers. He remembers the dream he had, recently. His pet. His father. His father, seeing him but never seeing him. His mother, who never took him away. His clan, saying good child, a child who learns everything, what a wonderful boy, and all their smiles falling on him like the edges of knives when he was in hell and what, if he had never killed them, if he had stayed under his father, what would it have been like, that life, that life, that suffocation, that darkness. That life.

In all that clan, in all of that clan, in all of his only family, it was only Sasuke, Sasuke, who had seen him as a human being. Sasuke, whom he had hurt. His brother. His brother, whom he wanted to be with more than anything. Whom he had exiled himself from. His other half, the missing piece of Itachi's soul. Sasuke. If only this, if only doing this, would, in some small measure, re-unite them fully, bring him to Sasuke, make the split halves of their twin soul all that it was meant to be, then he would do it a thousand times. A thousand thousand times. He would relive it, every second of his life. Every pain. But Sasuke is not here. And now, he will do this, instead. Will punish himself for not being with him. Right now. For making the same old mistakes. For always making the same mistakes. From never being able to separate truth from falsehood.

He savours the pain. Like Sasuke's reproach. That hot agony that means you, to someone, are at least seen. At least counted for. To one person in the entire. Wretched. World. )) ]

You could claim, I suppose, that I could scarcely fall farther. And yet you are a few rungs beneath me. But I assure you -- the only thing separating me from you, the thing which will always separate me, is that I look around me and I see people who have not fallen to where I am. And I do not want them to fall.

[ Because he is obsessed with life. With death. With illusions. Reality. And he needs it, somehow. Needs to see that other, "normal" people would not do what he has done. Needs for them to go live their lives, so something in this world can affirm life. Because it lets him be the center. Of death. Of hurt. Of his own hurt, as well as the hurt of others. It defines the borderlands, and the others, the normal ones, they must have their peace. They must stand in opposition to him. It is an integral part of reality. His own disorder against their order. That girl. She was one of the ordered ones. Itachi had wanted to save her. But it may not be possible now.

He will not forget this, regardless. He is not done. "I don't negotiate," that man said. You don't negotiate. But you are still talking to me.

You don't negotiate. You must lose often, then. Negotiating is winning. Losing is winning. Changing your desires is gaining mastery over those desires. When he came to accept what he must do, what he must be . . . there is nothing in this world that can hurt him, now.

But what an awful condition it is. To not feel pain. To not feel anything.

No one should have to live like this. ]

And yet, you prefer her company over mine. How unfortunate for your taste.

No matter. I will find you, eventually, whether you agree to meet with me or not. Neither of us can fall farther. We have nothing to lose. So we shall see what happens. Unless your powers are similar to Madara-sama's or Leader-sama's, which I highly doubt, given how you are avoiding me, then one-handed or not, I will beat you within an inch of your life. Or perhaps you are more than you appear.

Perhaps you can have your way with me.

Either way, I assure you, I wait in anticipation.

Do not disappoint.
Apr. 18th, 2010 04:25 pm (UTC)
[Audio | Private]
For trying to get in my pants you sure fail on the flirty talk, Mister. What's a girl to do? Shudder at the thought of her stories failing, put on some more mascara and pucker up?

[Joker breaks into laughter, even as his spine straightens, his breathing heavies - this man is insane, what more can he do for him but revel in his pleasure long-distance? He couldn't break him like he could Rin, like he could that fallable, angelic little Rin; this man is made of steel and concrete, his madness is impenetrable and perfected; he is unaware of it; perhaps that's what Joker will do; he will bring his madness out and forward -- so mad, he couldn't think to pander to the story, fake as it was -- and the insult doesn't harm the pleasure, only amplifies it; an aphrodisiac to the crunching bone, the flowing crimson dripping over pale flesh.]


[He spits, tongue and throat clenching together to emphasize the fricative, ssssssss, like steaming blood, like blood falling, like slithering, slowly seeping blood, like oozing, sopping, sloppy blood, simply stunning blood, shimmering, slipping, sliding over the skin blood, like such sordid, suffering blood - stinking, smelling blood -]

Play me a fool, you think, play on it, you think!

[A crackling, jaw breaking laugh]

That I'd take your insults because you've figured a way to make your own personal pornography! Pathetic!

[If only to get him to go further, up the arm, brutalize himself, cut off the whole wrist, writhe in it, scream in it, he's used to it, isn't he? He's not suffering anymore, is he crying out? He's just insisting, see me, see me, see me, Joker can smell a trap when he sees it, hard-on or not, throbbing pain or not, he just wants it out - but he can smell a stinking smoldering trap, a sucking simian trap, he can see it in this pale pretty-boy's face and -]

Sun's 3/4s gone tomorrow. If you're there, maybe we'll trade.
(Deleted comment)
Apr. 13th, 2010 09:18 am (UTC)
[Video | Private to Joker/Rin | Week 4, Day 4]
[That's not his mother.

Obviously. That's nobody. That's just some girl - that girl he spoke to back then, in fact. Back when Itachi was just - gone suddenly. Anyway. Anyway, the point is, they talked for what. What. A minute. Maybe two minutes. It was a non-conversation. It was a meaningless meaning.

The point is, just because she's a girl who is being tortured, that doesn't mean she's his mother. She doesn't even look like her, really. The resemblance is only passing. Just for a second, there was that flash in which he saw, he fucking saw it - but. But.

It's an unrelated incident. Anyway, Mother wasn't in pain. It was a quick death. One blow. She was dead before she hit the ground. Her face wasn't scrunched up like that. There was just blood. Blood coming from her mouth. Not coughed up - she didn't have time to cough it up. Perhaps, as the last bit of air escaped her lungs, the rattling final breath. Maybe then. Maybe that's when the blood got there. Or maybe she didn't die instantly. Perhaps she drowned in her own blood. Perhaps when she was lying there, not moving at all - she was really still inside. Just suffocating. Blood filling up her lungs as she tried to breathe in but they were full of blood and then she just slowly didn't have the strength to try anymore and she just lay there and died slowly, reflecting, with a mind that was quickly going dark, on all the things she had missed, all the things she might have done with her life -

Overall, that has nothing to do with what is happening here. Which is why it kind of surprises Sasuke that he has already decided to kill this man. Tear his fucking throat out. Take him apart piece by piece, the way he used to imagine doing to Itachi. Rip him into bloody wet chunks while he screams. Feel that hot surge of adrenaline, when the smell of blood and innards is so thick in your nostrils that you can barely even breathe, barely even think, not think about anything except that you deserve this you fuck, you deserve this for what you've done to me, and the world is ruined (because of you) and awful (it's your fault) and absolutely wrong (it was just fine before you, you had to wreck it, you) in every way except for this - except for the fact that you suffer too. You, you who deserves it, who deserves this a thousand fucking times, you get what's coming to you. You deserve to die. Like they died. Die like a dog, understanding nothing, unable to fight, unable to plead, unable to do anything at all. You did this, you did this and so you die.


Still, it wouldn't do to get too worked up. So Sasuke's face is blank when the video turns on.]

I hope you don't think cutting her off like that will actually stop anyone from finding you.

[Conversational. This is a casual talk they are having.]

Edited at 2010-04-13 09:18 am (UTC)
Apr. 13th, 2010 06:59 pm (UTC)
Why be so private, Knight Hero? Worried that your cool-boy reputation might be tarnished?

I've seen you around. Can't muster more than two or three words, even to someone giving a pleasant hello.

Who says we want to be a secret? Maybe we do, maybe we don't. Maybe I'm just having a spat of fun in this dreadfully droll place.

Who can blame me?
Apr. 13th, 2010 08:06 pm (UTC)
[Private | Video]

Oh, right. Because there's a girl, and killing him would save her, presumably. Or perhaps not. Perhaps he's just going to kill her. Sasuke doesn't really care so much about that. He has already accepted that she is dead - she was, in Sasuke's mind, dead from the moment she appeared on screen. She's been dead for nearly a decade but that is an absurd thought, and so he banishes it. It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter if she is dead or if she's not dead or if he can save her (he can't) or if she needs help now (he can't save anyone) or anything.

Sasuke doesn't care about any of that, and is not thinking about it. He's thinking about this man. ]

I'd rather not listen to any moralizing today, that's all. And I don't have anyone I want to talk to, besides you. [No one else. Not the girl, not Itachi, not his fucking mother. Focus.]

At any rate. You can tell me where you are, and speed up this process. Or you can sit there and wait, if you think that's fun. Either way is fine.
Apr. 14th, 2010 03:07 am (UTC)
Oh, I'm sure your dick is plenty big, but you don't have to show it to me like that! My eyes are just so fragile, you know? Masturbation over the Hitomi ought to be prohibited!
Apr. 15th, 2010 02:29 am (UTC)
[Sasuke gives the brief frown of a very repressed teenager, but at this point he is barely hearing. Hearing is a distraction. Right. Right, this is undoubtedly a good idea. Kill him. Kill him. That will satisfy it. The howling anxious need for violence. Killing. Kakashi told him that seeking vengeance, seeking murder, would leave him unsatisfied. In an ultimate sense, perhaps he was right. But Sasuke just does not fucking care at all about in an ultimate sense. Sasuke cares about the fact that he wants this, right now. At this moment, this urge - killing him will satisfy that.

Yes. Kill him. Even if it's not a good idea after all, it's too late now. Sasuke has decided. Devoted himself utterly to the idea. He cannot, at this point, imagine any alternative, cannot imagine just forgetting all this, forgetting this incident, this man, this girl, both of whom mean nothing. He deserves to die. (Stupid. He shouldn't care obviously. And doesn't. Not really. It just threw him. Knocked something out of place, and now, so easily, he slipped, and he can't stop. Can't stop.)

Mockery. But words are meaningless. Gone as soon as they are said. Sasuke has heard taunts before. Sasuke has thrown them around before, a lifetime ago. Stupid schoolyard fights, contests and competitions and examinations. This is neither a game, nor, truly, a fight. This is a fulfillment of a need. A piece of meat thrown to something loud and hungry. Words won't satisfy it.]

See you soon, then.

[He turns the Hitomi off.]
(Deleted comment)
Apr. 16th, 2010 04:19 am (UTC)
[Video | Action]
Really, do you have to be so pathetic?

[Joker's back takes up the camera as he sidles towards her. The scenery has changed somewhat - they are moving, changing location. Yes, the coordinates he gave the other one... they'd remain the same, he'd be there on time, but moving, moving, moving until then. He wants his control.

He steps over her, setting the butt of the gun on her forehead.]

It's like you're just a sad potato sack with a mouth.
(Deleted comment)
Apr. 16th, 2010 09:16 pm (UTC)
[Video | Action]
[Joker tumbles; he wasn't expecting it. She'd been so solemn and secretive! He was fast, speedy, the most agile man in Gotham, but taking a foot to the groin from a bleeding, infected and miserable little girl was definitely not on his list of expectations. The video fritzes momentarily, flashing bits of a crumpling clown and the girl below -


Oh, he'd make her wish she'd never caused that

but now he knows he made the right choice...]
(Deleted comment)
Apr. 17th, 2010 12:07 am (UTC)
[Video | Action]
[The pain is delicious; edible; up and down the body, and he finds himself laughing, downright balling hysterically as he sets the gun. If he killed her, so what? He couldn't be expected to aim right under such ball-crushing circumstances - ahahahaha! Oh just delicious!

And so the trigger is pulled, and he pegs her...

oh, was it the shoulder? Did he hit her? Did he care? Did he know? Maybe she'd get away! Oh, that'd be bothersome. So he rises, and thinks about firing another shot, but first, let's just see...]
(Deleted comment)
Apr. 17th, 2010 06:52 pm (UTC)
[Video | Action]
[His laughter echoes through the skies of Kannagara as he comes towards her, limping slightly - pain still flowing deliciously, wonderfully up his hip and into his eyes and flowing out his ears; how he loves feisty ones; how he loves knives-in-bones, feet-to-groin cunts and dicks, how he loves them all; and catches her by the hair.]

Nice try, but we've still got some Heroes to skewer.

[He takes to dragging her back to their position, but thinks about it, and starts heading in another direction.]
(Deleted comment)
Apr. 17th, 2010 07:35 pm (UTC)
[Video | Action]
Apr. 14th, 2010 02:28 am (UTC)
[Amelia is no knight, but only because she didn't generally wear armor, and princess proably trumped any knighthood. What she was was a self-proclaimed hero and a champion of justice. And what this was, was clearly a villain gloating, just like in the melodramas. And he had hurt Miss Rin. Amelia had only seen guns a bit, but it didn't take a genius to see that Miss Rin was hurt.]

You...! If you want a knight in shining armor, you villain, than be prepared. For I can no more turn away from the suffering you are causing than I can cease to breathe. Know this -- I will find where you are and I will bring the hammer of Justice down. Make your peace!

[Now, she had to actually find out where he was. This was a lot easier when the bad guys would deliver their threats in person...]
Apr. 14th, 2010 03:08 am (UTC)
[A cluck of the tongue]

Really? You're a woman. I'd expect better of a knight. At least to know the definition.
Apr. 14th, 2010 03:15 am (UTC)
Re: [Audio]
What kind of backwards place are you from that you think a woman can't be a knight? So, you are not only the type of person who hurts innocents, but you just hate women in general, is that right?

[Granted, Amelia was from a universe where one of the most powerful sorceresses, at least by raw power, was a teenaged girl... and she was still considered a 'second choice' compared to her older sister. The idea that women couldn't be knights or sorcerers or monarchs didn't work in most corners of the world.]
Apr. 14th, 2010 03:48 am (UTC)
Oh, please! I don't hate women, I just know them! Womb-beating man-hating hairy-legged auschwitz victims aside!
Apr. 14th, 2010 03:20 am (UTC)

[Marco gestures to his throat in a cutting way.]

Opstay alkingtay!

Don't make yourself a bigger target as everybody else is!

Listen, where are you?

Apr. 14th, 2010 03:23 am (UTC)
Mister Marco?

[Amelia paused.]

I have to do something about this! And I think I can take him.

[She was a sorceress, and Miss Rin wasn't. At least if he came after her, it would be a fair fight.]

But, I'm on the road. Near Hisato.
Apr. 14th, 2010 03:30 am (UTC)
Everyone wants to do something about this! Which is why we have to keep quiet. He knows that I'm on to him, so he's going to be especially cautious wherever he is. Why else would he block out the details of the video? He's got a gun, but some people can do magic like you do and walk on walks like Kakashi. He knows the people here overpowered him, especially now he doesn't have a steady supply of ammunition.

I'm in Hisato as well.
Apr. 14th, 2010 03:35 am (UTC)
Re: [Video][Private]
[Amelia nodded.]

So, we're trying to be sneaky? I'm not very good at sneaky. I'm a direct person.

[As if calling out the guy who just shot a girl wasn't Marco's first clue.]

I'll head into Hisato itself. Do we have any way to find him?
Apr. 14th, 2010 03:45 am (UTC)
Between you and me - I have no idea. I can only guess that it's outside. Maybe in a field, judging by the grass.

I'm going to make a network post that Joker and Rin can't see. Then we'll be able to find out if anyone else made any headway into finding them.
Apr. 15th, 2010 02:36 am (UTC)
Uh, question.

If I can't give you any more bullets, how exactly do you plan to survive this incident?
Apr. 15th, 2010 04:55 am (UTC)
Hey, Toots. Fix yourself yet?
Apr. 15th, 2010 04:59 am (UTC)
No. It's awful. I just realized - eventually, I am going to run out of clothes, and then I'll have to clean them. Clean them.

Why do you ask? Hoping I'd save you?
Apr. 15th, 2010 05:01 am (UTC)

[A blast of wicked laughter]

No, I just wanted a needle!
Apr. 15th, 2010 05:14 am (UTC)
A needle?

You're asking me for favors when you're cheating on me?

I thought I was the one you wanted to torture.
Apr. 15th, 2010 05:20 am (UTC)
Oh, she means nothing to me, Toots. She's like a used tampon. Bloody and swollen and stringin' everybody along!

[He busts into laughter, and abruptly stops short]

You're my real sweetheart, you know that, flawless toes and all.
Apr. 15th, 2010 07:32 am (UTC)
[ reaction ]
[ He's always known there was something wrong with him. Unfortunately, or fortunately as the case may be, some are easier to detect than others and he's been prepared for something ever since the madman posted his last post on the Hitomi network. He had been fully prepared to step in should it require someone of actual skill, rather than a band of hapless warriors throwing out insults or bravado like candy.

Unfortunately, he has a problem. A little problem. A... big little problem and he cannot spare a moment away. It wouldn't matter where in the world they were, he'd find them in little time at all. The problem lies in his little sister fitting the description quite literally.

For him, it is a good thing. It means Rukia won't be rushing into senseless danger for a human girl. It's not that he's heartless to the situation. He'd make certain this 'Joker' would regret taking lightly the life of a human, but looking away from Rukia, even for an instant, would be a bigger mistake. Rukia is his biggest priority.

Kakashi will have responded. Or those who have already replied might band together and form something akin to a team. He would enlist the aid of Ukitake, and should he find Renji in a right state, he would order him to join the efforts. For now, all Byakuya can do is put away the Hitomi, angered by the gall of this man and his inability to correct the disorder that's struck Kannagara in the form of a twisted human. ]

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Kannagara - The Way of the Gods

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