This chapter is rated M.
You know the drill as to why.
Standing Creation - ♥ Vanguard Duosoard.
Chapter 19; Love of two monsters where a gunshot goes mute.
Shocking. Gleam couldn't think of any other words to describe Chime's story. It made sense while at the same time, it didn't. She wondered how something could be so simple, yet so intricate at the same time. It didn't make any sense. A gang, Chime was in a gang? Though, she wasn't aware what a gang exactly was, she knew it was not a good thing. However, the thought of him not even wanting to be a part of a gang changed her pace of thought. She knew the story was true, it could only be true. Anyone who would be able to make up something so simple, yet so intricate would be a sick and twisted person. She knew. Knew he was not that kind of person. The story was true. Entirely true, and she believed it. She believed the story. As much as it was hard to accept, she knew. Everything was true. Every word was the truth. There was no room for sugarcoating. No room for sugarcoating, and she knew it. She wondered, however. Wondered how one town could be so isolated and so disconnected from the rest of the world. She wondered. She sighed, she hated it. Hated the fact that Chime had to be subjected to such evil. He didn't deserve it—he didn't deserve such trauma. He didn't. It bothered her that Chime had to live through that kind of evil—it wasn't human, it couldn't be human. There was no way evil of that category could have possibly been human. From there she wondered further and also realized. Chime wasn't human. He wasn't human. The thought—the thought that Chime was not human. It couldn't be true. It wasn't true. It wasn't true—it couldn't be. No matter how many times she repeated that it couldn't be true, she knew it was. She knew it was the truth. She knew it was the truth. She didn't know. Didn't know what a Principal was, but she knew it had some connection to Sovereigns. While it horrified her, she knew she had to ask. She had to ask about the Principals. Again, she wondered. Wondered what a human would do. What a human would do when they learned the truth about someone. A human would run away because they don't understand, but Gleam understood. She understood. She understood everything. It didn't matter to her what Chime was, she wasn't going to run away. She wasn't going to run away—she knew that would be a betrayal, and she wasn't going to betray Chime. She would never do something so evil as to betray him. Ask. She had to ask him about the Principals. The Principal in the Reverse in the Laws of Cause and Effect, for that matter. She needed to know. She needed to, and the thought slowly ate away at her.
Chime wondered. Wondered how Gleam was taking it. He wondered if what he said was too much. Most likely, it was. He knew. Knew it had to be too much for her take—it must have been. It could have been. Good. It felt good to get the past off his chest. The past could finally be in the past and nowhere else. He knew he'd never be able to get over it, but he also knew talking about it helped. Talking about it helped, and he could feel his blood calming. Enough time had passed for that to be allowed. Enough time had passed for everything to somehow return to normal. He still wondered. Wondered how Gleam was handling it. The truth had been hurled—his true identity was revealed. He wondered what could have possibly been on her mind at that moment. As clueless as he felt at the time, he knew. Knew Gleam wouldn't leave him or change her attitude towards him over a small confession. He knew. He knew that only a cruel, sick and twisted person would do such a thing. Gleam was not such person, and he knew it. Still, he wondered. Wondered how Gleam was taking it. Taking his past. He figured it must have been hard on her to learn all that at once, but he knew. The only way he would be able to withstand it. Withstand the entire repeat of history.
Eventually, Gleam couldn't hold it in anymore. She couldn't hold in her wonder. The thoughts, the Principals. She had to know. The thought of it not being solved or even brought up had to be fixed. It had to, and she knew it. The silence. She couldn't hold it in anymore. She couldn't. Everything may as well be released at once for all she cared, but she had to break the silence. She had to. Sense. Something had to be made sense out of the flashback story. The Principals, the bit about him knowing who to protect, everything. Absolutely everything. She sighed, forcing herself to tear apart the silence.
"That doesn't make any sense," she said. "So, you mean to tell me you're the Principal in the Reverse in the Laws of Cause and Effect?" she changed the direction in which she was directing her tone. "What are the Principals? What do they have to do with?" she slowly changed the pace of her questions as they all flowed out of her at once. "Are they like Sovereigns? Just what are they exactly?" she would have stopped, but the questions wouldn't stop flowing from her. "Chime, do you know? Do you know anything about the Principals?" she felt hot with saying the wrong thing. She knew it was not in her place to say that. Stupid. She had made it sound like Chime was stupid. "S-sorry," she said, getting crimson with embarrassment. "I must have made you sound stupid."
Chime sighed. Gleam was at it again with the apologizing. She had no need to apologize, but there wasn't any time for that. There wasn't any time for that, and he knew it. Despite his small pool of knowledge on the Principals, he knew enough about them to teach her. Even the littlest bit of information helped, and he knew it. Every little bit of information mattered, and it was that simple. He knew though, that this time, he could not hide the horrifying information. This time around, he had to say everything. He had to tell her everything he knew about the Principals. He breathed in five times before explaining anything. He turned to Gleam as soon as he had been ready to execute the explanation.
"That's right, Gleam," he said. "I'm the Principal in the Reverse in the Laws of Cause and Effect." He changed his tone of voice to that of a lighter one rather than a darker one. "But my powers are sealed by a strong lock inside my body." After saying such, he anxiously paced around the room. What he was about to say was complicated. "Gleam, this might be hard for me to explain," he said quietly. "So, please, bear with me. I've never looked into this much myself." He breathed three more times. He didn't get it. Why was it so hard to explain this to her? He then, quickly went back to trying to explain. "Okay. I'll tell you. The Principals are kind of like the Sovereigns, but, they truly have nothing to do with them." He walked back and forth as anxiety started robbing him as the explanation continued to get more complicated. "The Principals, however, like the Sovereigns, have two magic powers, but I wouldn't call the powers forbidden and illegal." He breathed in again. "The Principals powers…the only way I can describe them is that, usually, they're what make the world go round." He changed his expression to that of a dark one. "There's one big difference, though, Gleam," he said hoarsely. "When a Principal is killed, the world will be severely affected. I'm not sure why that is, but that's the major difference." He looked at Gleam and noticed she wanted to know more. Not minding, he continued. "There are only three Principals," he explained. "The two others are pretty important compared to me." He continued. "The other two Principals are the Principal in the Creation of the World and the Principal in the Events in History. I highly doubt either of them are in the program, and I really hope they aren't. If either of them are killed, this world will cease to exist." He breathed one last time to finish the explanation. "That's all there is to it, Gleam. I wish I knew more on the subject, really. He sighed quietly to himself as the explanation had ended.
Gleam blinked. How? How could Chime so easily admit he wasn't human? She wondered, but figured it had been too early to ask. She knew that if she asked, it would involve her having to tell him she was the Sovereign of Destruction. She wasn't ready. She was nowhere near ready to tell Chime. Despite her current thoughts, she could feel curiosity take her away for a joy ride. A seal that locked his powers? It was an interesting predicament. She wasn't about to allow curiosity to take her for a joy ride.
"A seal locking your powers?" Gleam asked. "Where exactly is your seal?"
Chime placed his hand over his heart to show Gleam where his seal was. He wasn't sure if that were the exact place, but he had felt something practically button like in that area, so he knew. Knew he had to right about this somehow.
"Right over here, Gleam," he said. "Next to my heart, inside my body." He tried to put emphasis on the words to separate them.
Gleam continued to wonder. How would one activate the seal? The curiosity had still claimed her as she wanted to know more about the seal inside him. She knew it was horrendously wrong to be asking such stupid questions, but she knew it didn't matter. As long as Chime didn't become uncomfortable, she knew it would be okay to ask. She needed to ask about how the seal is unlocked. Considering the location in which it had been. She knew she already could think of how it could be unsealed, but regardless, she couldn't help but ask Chime how it came to be.
"But how do you unseal the lock?" she inquired.
Chime looked at a wall and tried to think. He tried to remember. Tried to remember how to seal gets unlocked. Poking. It had something to do with poking. Something that had to do with poking, and that's all he could remember. He didn't remember the precautions, didn't remember what it would be like what it would be like when the seal was undone, he remembered none of that. Poking. Poking the seal. That could only be the way to unlock it. The only way, and he knew it was the only answer.
"I don't know," he replied. "But, I think you poke it with something to unlock the seal."
The curiosity inside her peaked again. More. She wanted to know more. Only a little more, but, she felt like it would be okay to keep asking. As she kept on asking questions, she did wonder. Wondered if she could tell Chime. Tell Chime everything. Tell Chime she was the Sovereign of Destruction, the twenty one people that died at her hands, everything. She didn't want to tell him—she couldn't. There was no way could tell him she was the Sovereign of Destruction. She didn't want Chime to hate her for the high amount of people she killed. For her own desire of remaining friends with him, she couldn't tell him. Coward, she was a huge coward trying to keep it a sworn secret. She sighed and continued to ask questions.
"What happens when the seal is undone?" she asked. "What would happen to you?"
Chime sighed. The one question he couldn't answer, and Gleam had asked it. He didn't remember. He couldn't remember. The memories of that explanation were lost at sea along with many other memories that were lost from his childhood. He tried thinking back, but failed to think of anything or remember anything. He, however, did remember one thing. It was foggy, but he remembered. The memory was finally somewhat clear. Despite it not being a huge memory, he knew. Knew that the question probably wouldn't be answered properly. It wouldn't be answered properly, but he knew. Knew the answer somewhat worked in his favor. He wished the topic were an easy one, but it was too difficult; it was too difficult to learn about something he was himself. He always figured he was better off not knowing, but was already too late. It was already too late to not know anything. He sighed again and began to explain once more.
"Well, Gleam," he said. "Before daddy left mommy, he took me to a doctor about my seal." He started pacing around the room again as he continued explaining. "The doctor said that once the seal is undone, it can never be sealed again." He breathed in again. "The seal is a one shot deal, Gleam. Once unsealed, you can never seal it again. And another one can't be placed." He breathed in again. Nothing. Nothing else was coming to him.
Gleam noticed how much Chime had been breathing almost forcefully during that entire explanation and beyond, and it worried her. It worried her. Her worries only became worse as she wondered further. She wondered if, wondered if sapped his energy to explain. She doubt that were the case, but knew it might have been a cause. She wondered if it could have been something else as well, but nothing came to her mind. Still, she knew it couldn't be nothing, and it was nothing. She knew it wasn't nothing—it couldn't be.
"Are you okay?" she asked worryingly. "You're breathing heavily an awful lot." She changed her tone of voice and diction of which she said her words. "Maybe you should lie down."
Chime didn't know how to describe the feeling he had been overcome with. It made little sense. Little sense to him as to what to tell her. Hopeless—the conversation was quickly becoming hopeless. Gleam was worried about him, and he didn't want that. He had already worried her enough today. He had already worried her enough, and it bothered him. The morning was full of depression and loss of hope. The night had now become the same. He didn't want her to worry about him—the look on her face. The look of worry was a face he did not want to see. The face hurt him, to see her with such a look.
He patted Gleam on the shoulder. "I'm fine," he said. "I need to breathe in order to remain calm, Gleam. This topic is really hard on me." He tried to smile, but no smile would from. No smile would grace his face. He was again expressionless and depressed looking. "But, it's okay. This day will always be hard on me. I'm sure everything will be alright tomorrow." Again, he tried to smile, but no smile would form. It was as if his lips were frozen. As if his body wouldn't allow him to smile. He didn't understand; it shouldn't have been impossible. He knew that it took fewer muscles to smile. "Really, it's okay. This day always ruins me. It's not much to worry about." He knew, though, that saying that would only lead to panic. He wondered why he would crack such a stupidly double edge sword line such as that one. He quietly laughed to himself. Stupid. He was so stupid. Stupid, he couldn't stop calling himself such.
Gleam couldn't let the matter drop. As much as she wanted to, she knew. Knew he wasn't okay. Maybe she could convince him. Convince him to stop pushing it. She knew that it would be a hard thing to put into words. The situation called for a sentence, but the right words didn't come to her. Nothing came to her. As hard as it was, being mute was pointless. She knew that it had been a long day for both of them especially Chime. It was a long for both of them, and tensions were lingering, and the situation wasn't than it could have been. She knew that now—that the tensions of the day couldn't possibly go away overnight, but Chime was already pushing himself way too hard, and Gleam didn't like it.
"Don't push yourself so hard," she said, blushing. "Please, Chime. I know you want the best, but…" she started to stare into space a little, but stopped herself. "Chime, we all have to slow down a bit sometimes. Please don't push yourself so hard."
Chime froze to the spot of which he had been standing. Stupid, he was so stupid. Why did he say that to her? Why would he say something like that to Gleam? Now she was entirely worried the entire time, but he didn't want her to worry too much. The atmosphere, even the atmosphere was worrisome. Tomorrow. Tomorrow, he hoped that somehow, the atmosphere would change, and it had to. It had to change—the depressing and worrisome atmosphere only made everything worse.
Gleam stared. She knew she wasn't worth being pushed over. She knew that she didn't deserve for Chime to push himself so hard over her—she didn't deserve it. She barely deserved it. She didn't deserve his kindness and constant help. She still wondered. Wondered what he would think if she told him the truth. The truth of what she really was. She knew that deep down, she would instantly be alone. No one would want to be with the Sovereign of Destruction. Not even Chime and she knew it. No one would want to—everyone else had abandoned her, and she knew Chime would too. She knew it. She knew no one would want to be with the Sovereign of Destruction. No one.
"I'm not…" she began suddenly. "I'm not worth pushing yourself over." She covered her mouth with her hand. She said it. She didn't mean to say that. Why? Why would she say that to Chime? She wanted to take it back, but it had already been too late—the words were formed.
Chime looked at Gleam. What she said was unacceptable. She was worth it. She was very worth it, especially since all they had was each other. But he knew. Knew that it still had to do with the day being a hard one on both of them, but he still couldn't accept what she said. He couldn't say that to her, however, he couldn't. It wasn't a good idea, and he knew it. It was far from being a good idea. The words he wanted to say went into a jar of the things he couldn't say to her and bottled up inside him. Other words came to him instead, and he decided to just roll with it.
"What are you saying?" he asked. He looked at the expression on her face. Something heavy had been on her mind—he knew it and felt stupid again for not noticing. "Gleam? What's on your mind? Something is bothering you. I can tell."
Gleam could no longer escape. No longer escape from telling Chime. Everything. She had to tell him everything—that she was a Sovereign, about the twenty one people murdered by her own hands, everything. She was ready. Ready for everything. Ready for Chime to abandon her and hate her after she told him. She was ready. Ready to stop hiding the truth. Ready to get the weight off her chest. She was finally ready. She breathed silently to calm her thoughts as she spoke.
"Chime," she said. "There's something I have to tell you."
Chime knew it. Knew something was bothering her. He knew that it would help her to get whatever was bothering her off her chest. He knew that it helped her—and he was willing to listen for the entire time, even if it was something he didn't understand. He looked at her with a look of readiness.
"What is it that you want to tell me?" he asked. "Go right ahead."
Gleam closed her eyes and quickly prayed that the confession wouldn't drain all of her energy. The time for hiding from the truth was over. She couldn't back away from the confession. She opened her eyes and showed an extreme dark expression. She was ready.
"Chime," she said quietly. "The truth is…" she breathed and tried to control herself. She didn't want to lose it now. Calm. She had to remain calm. "I'm the Sovereign of Destruction," she confessed. "And I…I've killed twenty one people." Calm, she had to remain calm. She continued as she tried to keep herself calm. "I've killed so many people," she whispered. "My power…it…it's horrible." She couldn't hold it in anymore. The tears. The tears were coming back. She could feel the tears flow out of her like a river, and they wouldn't stop. The tears had no pause button. They were full functioned. Hate her. Chime had to hate her now. As the tears continued to rob her, she spoke through the tears to end the sentence. "Now you probably hate me, right?" she hoarsely asked. "You want me to leave you and die now or something? Right?" the tears got more ferocious as Gleam's nightmare fear continued to play in her mind. She knew that Chime probably hated her now.
Chime believed Gleam. But, he would never, in his life, hate her. Seeing her in such a devastated state—he knew he had to tell her his true feeling. Save her, telling his true feelings would save her. But how would he tell her? How would he tell the truth about his feelings? Three simple words, and he didn't know how he could say them, but he knew—knew he had to. Gleam needed to hear his true feelings. He knew if he didn't, all would be lost. He had to tell her his true feelings. He knew, deep down, the fear of not being able to understand what he's telling her, and the fear of her not feeling the same way would somehow be the truth. It mattered nothing to him what Gleam was, or what she did. He had to tell her how he felt about her. Now could be the only time to. He didn't want to hear Gleam ever talk like that again. Never in his life. He wondered if what he was about to tell her would stop that. He began, began to reveal. Reveal his true feelings.
"Human, Sovereign, the people you killed, none of that matters. At least, not to me, anyway," he confided. "I love you." He did not blush. He tried not to blush. He couldn't. He would have if he said it any sooner, but he knew that he couldn't blush. Not now. "I don't know when I realized," he started. "But I knew when I saw you being bullied by those boys about three months ago that you were the girl I wanted to protect. You're the girl I'd die for if I couldn't protect you." Almost automatically, he turned a very pale shade of pink. "I could never hate you, Gleam, and I'll always be here for you."
Gleam could feel the faucet of tears stop. Love? Chime loved her? It didn't make sense while at the same time; she knew it did make sense. It made almost perfect sense. She wanted to tell him. Tell him the other truth. She felt the same, but in a place of death and murder she knew a relationship would be highly inappropriate. She remembered on a television show she watched that something like that did once happen, but this was not a fantasy world. It was reality—reality. She had to tell him. Her feelings. It only made sense after Chime told her his feelings. She could feel herself blush as she was about to confess.
"I… I love you too," she stammered. "But… this really isn't the place where we should have that kind of relationship."
The confessions were then rudely cut off. A violent sound could be heard at the door. Violent knocks that could rip the door off were coming from the other end of the door. The knocks were louder than a jet plane and police officer combined. Something wasn't right. The knocks were frightening. Frightening, and probably would break a hole in the door and if the people had kept it up, the door would break apart as well. After at least a dozen knocks, a loud booming voice could be heard at the door. Something was terrifying and wrong. The suddenness of it all made it hard to believe.
"OPEN THE ♥♥♥♥ING DOOR, MAGGOT!" the voice cried. "Open this ♥♥♥♥ing door before I break it open and kill you, Lethal!"
Gleam's face became pale. The Death Penalties. They were at the door. Just as the leader of The Lethals said, The Death Penalties really were next.
"They're here, Chime," she spoke weakly. "The Death Penalties are here!"
The knocking became almost terrorist and harassment loud as Gleam revealed who was at the door. Chime knew what he had to do. Despite not wanting to, he had to deal with The Death Penalties now before they killed either of them. Chime proceeded to his necessity cabinet and removed a sharp and long metal weapon and a black circular explosive object. He didn't want to resort to bloodshed or utter obliteration in front of Gleam, but this was the final score he had to settle. The last score he had to settle with his gang past. He didn't want Gleam to be involved, but he already knew she wouldn't stay hiding in his dorm room.
"Let's go," he said. "I'm not going to let them lay a single hand on you. They'll show you no mercy. Please, Gleam, stay hidden."
"But Chime," she said. "You're severely injured!"
Chime patted Gleam on the shoulder again. "Don't worry," he exclaimed. "I've come prepared in case the bleeding restarts." He made way for the door as the knocks only got louder and louder in audio. "Come on, quickly. They'll keep on torturing us if we don't exit."
Gleam followed Chime quietly. Inhumane. Gangs were beyond inhumane to every single person a part of an affiliation. Inhumane, even, and Gleam couldn't stand the evils of gangs—it was a cloud of viciousness, and the cloud never ceased to kill innocent people. Gleam couldn't to follow behind Chime into the hallway. Inhumane. The violent knocking torture was inhumane.
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The hallway was again coaxed by evil. The source of evil was seemingly smaller than earlier that day. The source of evil had had been diminished to five boys. Five boys who were supremely vicious. Vicious and deadly, hence their namesake. They were ready. Ready to kill the former Lethal who was responsible for the deaths of their brotherhood gang. Death. The boy would die at the hands of all five of them. Simple. The boy's death would become so simple. It would be as easy as robbing toys from a blind three year old. They didn't care how of which wind chime boy would be killed—as long as he died at their hands, they barely cared.
The evil source had an almost ironic appearance. All five of them looked almost beautiful, but were truly ugly due to the evil coursing through their veins. Each of them wore a colored suit depending on their rank. One wore a gold, regal suit, the second wore a silver suit, the third wore a bronze suit, and the other two wore a black suit and white suit. On the back on their suits was an image of an old guillotine crashing a human sized mouse. Their hair was shaggy, shaggy and lacked any color. They were godlike tall; if it made any remote sense, the boys were maybe six feet tall. All of the boys were different. Different—freedom of dressing must have been a thing. The boy with the gold suit looked at Chime sinisterly. Paintbrush boy had to die. He had to die now. The gold suit Death Penalty cornered him in form of intimidation.
Chime backed away as the gold suit came into his space. No words could describe how powerless he felt against the gold suited member. Frightening. The fact that he was being cornered made it hard for him to escape. Powerless. He was horrendously powerless to the new people after him.
The boy in the gold suit spoke to intimidate. "Why, look who it is," he said exponentially. "The murderer who killed my wingmen!" he continued to corner Chime as the intimidation continued. "You must know what that means already," he said in a criminal tone. "That means…we're going to kill you!"
Chime continued to back away. His presence; his presence was terrifying. As he backed away, he didn't realize—realize that he had fallen directly into the leader's trap. As he continued to back away, he could feel it. He could feel the concrete wall against his body and the leader's cold breath on his skin. A trap, a trap, and he didn't know how to escape it.
The gold suited boy smirked. Perfect. Everyone in his gang knew—everything was going according to his plan. Perfect. The against the wall death plan was perfect. He turned to the other four members and placed his thumb and index finger in his mouth. The sound of a chirp let loose from his mouth. The other four removed their weapons right on the signal. The shape. The shape of the weapons were that of a knife and a gun. It was complicated. The leader smirked as his members removed their knife guns. As he waited for Chime to show fear on his face, he rummaged through his pockets and presented an inhumanly large knife. Again, he smirked as he saw the plan become perfect in his mind.
Out of fear, Chime gulped. Painting—they were going to force him to paint with his blood again. This time he didn't want Gleam involved. This was his fight, no one is going to lay a hand on her, nobody. As frightened as he was, he knew if deadly came to more deadly, his weapons would come in handy to retaliate. Regardless, he couldn't think—all his thoughts were gone. Gone from the fear robbing him.
"What are you going to do to me?" he asked randomly. "You're going to make me paint with my blood, aren't you?" sweat invaded him. He knew that it was going to be a violent punishment. The fear. The fear was robbing him. Robbing him of every rational thought he had at the time.
The gold suit boy laughed maniacally. Stupid. The boy thought he was going to get it off easy. They were not about easy punishments. Painting with his own blood was so Lethal punishment and twelve years old. That wouldn't teach him anything. Amputation. Amputation would be the perfect punishment. The leader lifted his hand and raised the inhumanly large knife above him. He cracked a maniacal laugh as he thought of how perfect everything would become.
"Oh, please," he said in a vicious tone. "We're not going to make you paint with your blood, that's so twelve years old!" he gave a sinister, full tooth grin. "We're going to amputate it."
Chime's sweat sped up as he could feel the fear completely loiter outside him. Amputation. He would lose his arm through amputation. He hated being so powerless, and hated that Gleam had to watch. He knew that if he told her to run away, that it would call attention to her—he couldn't do that. There wasn't any way.
Gleam backed away. She couldn't watch. She couldn't watch the horrors about to befall. She closed her eyes and kept them closed—she couldn't watch. She couldn't watch the onslaught. She knew it was wrong of her to hide, but she couldn't watch. The horror. When the time came, she would help him, but she knew Chime did not want her involved. She opened her eyes lightly, but closed them again. She couldn't watch. Frightening, it was so frightening to have to view bloodshed twice in one day. She couldn't. There was absolutely no way. It was frightening. How could she? Tears of fear rolled down her face—inhumane, this was inhumane.
The gold suited boy smirked. He turned to his members and gave an intricate symbol that only they understood. The four others raised their weapons and placed them in an active position. The amputation assassination was ready.
Chime stood there, robbed of all movement. Death. Death was coming. Death was about to greet him. As frightened as he was, he knew there was no way to avoid it. He closed his eyes at the thoughts of dying by amputation corroded him. He knew. Knew that when push came to shove, he had weapons. Provided he was to live through the onslaught, he would retaliate. He knew, however, that it would only be impossible for him. Powerless, he was powerless.
The gold suit was ready. Ready to being the assassination amputation. Blindingly, he removed a second weapon from his pocket. The weapon was fairly long and piercing in appearance. It had a violent and slashing look about it. It was obvious to Chime that the gold suit boy had many weapons up his sleeve. He stared at the inhumanly large knife in his left hand and then at the long slashing object in his right. He wondered. Wondered which one he would use. After about a moment, the gold suit boy raised the long slashing object above his head and released it from his hand, hitting the ceiling as it travelled upward. A sword rain was sure to befall later if he chose to let the sword hit him from the ceiling. The preparations were then complete. The gold suit boy was ready. Ready to perform assassination amputation.
The gold suit boy leaned in closer and prepared. When he had picked the perfect spot on his arm to amputate it, he placed the inhumanly large knife on Chime's forearm. As the inhumanly long knife made contact with Chime's skin, he shook weakly. The injury, the injury was about to get worse. The suit dastardly slashed at Chime's forearm, attempting to get the arm to fall off. Nothing, not even signs of bleeding heavily were seen. He growled under his breath and tried again. The slashing quickly became attempted carving. Carving deep into his forearm, and only a small amount of blood dropped from him. Again, he growled. It wasn't working—the amputation wasn't working. He figured one more time would be able to get the arm off. One more time. He placed the knife back on the boy's forearm. Just above the adhesive bandage. Just above the adhesive; this time, he knew he would succeed. Succeed in the amputation of the Lethal's arm. The carving quickly became stabbing as the gold suit boy hopelessly tried to do what he had to in order to win in the battle of murder. As he continued to stab the boy's forearm, he noticed how nothing was falling yet again. No blood, no arm, nothing. Amputation mission failed. The gold suit boy removed the inhumanly large knife from Chime's forearm and rubbed the sides of his head with his hands in an alleged fury. His inhumanly large knife wasn't sharp—he made a huge mistake. He failed his crew. Assassination. It was time for their assassination part of their plan. He took the inhumanly large knife and threw it at the wall to the west of him. Useless, the weapon was useless. He turned to his gang members and gave them an intricate look that only they understood. Out of a rage from failure, he spoke.
"That sword was a dud!" he shouted. "Shoot the ass! Show him no mercy!"
The silver suit stared. Shooting. They had to resort to shooting. He liked the idea, but was clueless as to where to shoot the paintbrush boy. It would be perfect. A perfect way to kill the killer.
He turned to the gold suit boy. "Where?" he asked. "Where do we shoot him?"
The gold suit boy glared. No one dared to question him. He didn't care what the question was—no one questioned him. Nobody. This was not even time for questions. It was only time to kill—nothing else. Killing, and that was it. He changed his expression to an imperious one and showed that he would punish the silver suit later for questioning him.
"Do NOT question me, you cockroach!" he viciously said. "Shoot the ass on his hip! SHOOT HIM!"
The silver suit nodded and snapped his fingers at the other three members to alert them that it was time. The four placed their fingers on the trigger. As their finger pulled the trigger, three bullets from each knife gun as the bullets travelled their way to Chime. Chime stared as the bullets were about to make grace with him. He gulped as he could see the bullets come at him. The bullets then completely made grace with him. Metal—metal jamming him. Metal jamming him. Something jamming his side. He couldn't describe the content of the pain. Biting—metal jamming his sides. He couldn't describe it. The pain. The pain of the hit—it was degrading. As he could feel blood drip from his side, he let out a tear stricken scream. Metal. Metal bullets biting him. He wondered how long he would remain conscious this time.
The four Death Penalties laughed sinisterly as they dropped their knife guns. Perfect. The shots were perfect. They looked at their leader whom was still standing over the boy like a police man frisking him. They wondered. Wondered what else he had in store to kill the boy.
The gold suit boy got nothing. His murder attempt failed. He was a terrible leader, a terrible leader and he knew it. One trick left—only one trick had been left up his sleeve. Choking was all he could think of. Robbing the boy of oxygen, that was his last resort. As he came to his last murder resolve, he placed his arms around Chime's neck and prepared. Prepared to choke the boy until he died mercilessly.
Chime knew that it was time. Time to initiate his side of the damage. As the bleeding from the shot continued, he rummaged through his pocket and removed the long metal object. He placed it at his side and prepared as his right arm was ready to commit a defensive death. Chime closed his eyes. He didn't know if he could do this. Murder; he would resort to murder. He knew it was too late—they struck first, it was only because he had to. He had to. Blankly, he took the long metal object and placed it above his head, shaking. Again, he closed his eyes. Could he do it? Could he kill a human? He knew if he thought about it that it would delay his action. He sighed and placed the long metal object in a dangerous position. The heart, he would pierce the heart. Chime moved the long metal object behind him then thrust it forward, piercing the boy's chest as the metal object had made contact with him. He watched in horror as the gold suit boy fell to the ground from the pierce of the sword. His blood decorated the floor beautifully as his eyes become pupilless and his body showed no signs of life. His heart. His heart was dead, and he was no more. No more—the gold suited boy was nothing more than a lifeless body. He tried to remain calm as he realized what he had done.
The other four members cowered. Their leader. Their leader was dead. Dead. Dead because of the person they were trying to kill. The person they were trying to kill murdered their leader. Pay, the boy was going to pay.
"You'll PAY," the black suit shouted. "We'll shoot your brains out!"
The white suit boy spoke next. "You heard him, you'll PAY!"
Chime sighed and didn't answer the boys and knew that they needed to join the leader in the death circle. He had to use the second object. The second object to end them. He didn't want to, but he had to. Chime removed the second object from his pocket within seconds. The black round object had many complicated settings to activate it, but he knew how to use it. He didn't want Gleam to get caught in the blast, however. He tinkered with the buttons on the circular object and set a time. Electric denotation—he barely knew how to work it, but he knew, knew it just required to throw it at a person. He looked at Gleam and let out a weak scream from the continuing blood dropping from the attempted assassination.
"Gleam!" he cried. "I need you to head for cover! Please head somewhere safe! I don't want to hurt you!"
Gleam knew. Knew Chime was about to use a bomb to obliterate his assailants. She knew that she didn't want to get caught in the blast. Run, she had to run. She nodded and ran away as the plan to retaliate was about to unfold. Style, she would get Style to help fix Chime's injuries. She didn't want to run away. It wasn't running away, cover; she was heading for cover as Chime did what he had to. She knew. Knew everything would be okay. Okay, and over within four seconds. She ran to Style's room quickly to find her.
Chime scoured the area to see if Gleam had gone for cover. When he knew she was, he was ready. As he threw the bomb, he waited. Waited for the time to reach zero. He breathed and waited. He waited impatiently.
Finally, the bomb had reached zero. The four members that remained in the Death Penalties looked at their feet. They shivered a little as the bomb began to detonate.
The bomb was ready. As the clock beeped red, the bomb went off and made a large ear deafening boom. As the boys got caught in the explosion, the bomb smoked and disintegrated the four boys' lives. The explosion was violent, violent and deadly. Within seconds, the explosion ended, and before him was the four boys whom were on the ground, covered in unrecognizable blotches of explosion patches. He stared as the four boys did not breathe, did not open their eyes, nothing. No response. There was no response. Darkly, Chime stared. Murdered. He killed the five of them. The five of them died at his hands, and he couldn't forgive himself, even if they were after him. Absolutely horrible, he was absolutely horrible. He could feel a sudden weakness overtake him. He could no longer stand. He could feel the weakness rob him as he fell to the ground. He wondered if he'd join The Death Penalties in their death circle.
Gleam returned soon after with Style by her side. Help, she needed to help Chime. She knew Style had nothing to do with the situation, but she felt like she needed an outsider's help for now. As Gleam approached Chime again, Style poked her. The girl noticed. Wrong, something was wrong.
"Woah!" she cried. "Your guy buddy is down!"
Gleam could feel tears stream down her face. No. No. She couldn't believe it; Chime had fallen to the ground. The injury or two he sustained, they were going to kill him. She had to help him, she had to. She wasn't about to let Chime die from a gunshot. She ran to his side, Style followed.
"Chime!" she screamed hoarsely. "Chime! What happened? I'm so sorry! I wasn't watching!" she could feel tears drop down even more as she could feel more apologizes come out of her all at once. "Chime! I'm so sorry! I wasn't watching! I should have stopped it!"
Style looked down at Chime's side and noticed the red blotch of stained blood vacantly decorating him. She turned to Gleam and placed her hands on her hips seriously.
"Your guy buddy needs patching!" Style announced. "I'm glad you called me, I got just thing—magic!"
Gleam shook her head. No. She couldn't use magic, there was no way she could use magic on Chime. She didn't want to disagree, but she had to, even if she was a mere outsider.
She tugged on her red long flowing shirt to get her attention. "No, Style," she said. "No magic." She let go of the girl's shirt and stared at the barrettes in her hair. "Style, please! Please help me bandage him! I… I can't bandage sides… I don't know how." She knew she was awful for saying that, but she had no knowledge. No knowledge as to bandaging a side or hip. She turned to Style again and gave her a ready look. She hoped she knew what she was about to do.
Style smiled. She could do it. She remembered everything Eggshell taught her about patching up a person—she knew how to do it. Even though it would be hard to get to the side of his body, she was confident. Confident she could get there. She removed and adhesive bandage and began, began to save Chime.
"No problem," she chirped. "Seriously, I can do this!"
Style took the adhesive bandage out as she crouched down by Chime, who was in a daze. Slowly, she placed the adhesive on the white covered the red stain remnant on him. As she finished, she backed away and looked at Gleam, readying to go back to her room. She wanted to help more, but knew the two didn't need her to be around anymore. She once again smiled at Gleam before heading back. She was thrilled. Thrilled to help the cute girl out.
"Okay, my work here is done!" she cried. "I'm going back to my room. If you ever want to hang out with me, my door is open, sweetie." She waved to her and ran back to her dorm. She knew that Gleam knew what to do next. "She'll be alright," she whispered to herself. "She's a good kid; I know she knows what to do!"
As Style headed back to her room, Gleam ran to Chime and held out her hand. Weakly, Chime grabbed it knowing that the short walk back to the dorm would feel like an entire ice age. Somehow he managed to break out a few words, but they were almost inaudible.
"That was Style, wasn't it?" he weakly asked. "Gleam; did you thank her for helping you?"
Gleam blushed. She didn't. She didn't thank the girl for helping her. Rude, she was beyond rude. She knew that Chime, however, shouldn't have been talking. Not with an injury of the kind he currently had.
"D-don't talk so much. Your wound will reopen!" she cried. "Anyway, I… I didn't get to; she left before I could thank her."
Chime sighed. It didn't bother him at all. He wondered why he even asked. Then he remembered. He had one more thing to say to her. Something related to Sovereigns. Something that had to do with the boys being reduced to ashes by her earlier that day. He breathed in before he explained to get Gleam's utmost attention.
"Gleam there's something I forgot to tell you," he said. "Earlier today when you threw that stick of dynamite at The Lethals, the reason they were reduced to ashes was because of your passive magic. All Sovereigns have passive magic, Gleam."
Gleam blinked. It made perfect sense now. All of it made absolute sense. Passive magic, she didn't understand it, but she couldn't ask. Chime's condition would worsen if she did, and she didn't want that. She never wanted that. She would wait until he was better to ask. She couldn't ask, there was no way she could ask him seeing the condition he was in now.
After she was sure the two of them were at the door, she quickly opened it as she helped Chime walk. She took him into his room and somehow managed to get him to lie down after she successfully escorted him to his dorm bed. A look of worry decorated her face as she worried even more about Chime's injury.
"Are you going to be okay?" she asked. "You were shot by twelve bullets! How are you going to recover?" worry robbed her as she continued. "Chime, please! Please rest, please!"
Chime smiled almost inappropriately. He knew he would be okay. He hoped nothing would happen to him. He didn't want Gleam to worry any more than she already was, deep down, he knew that it was all over with for now. He also knew. Knew he would be useless for a week. Useless at being able to help Gleam. He hated the thought—hated it more than anything. The thought of not being able to do anything for her made his body ache in a different way than he knew. Three days, he didn't care, he would only allow three days of being practically bedridden.
"I'll be fine," he said quietly. "Give me three days, Gleam. I promise I'll overcome this quickly."
Gleam sighed. She knew Chime would say that. Knew Chime didn't care what would happen to him. She wanted Chime to worry about himself at least by three percent, but she couldn't force it. Three days was not enough time to recover. She wished she had a doctor or a professional decide such, but she remembered what he said earlier: there was no hospital around there or an infirmary. Judgment, she had to use her own judgment. She had no other choice, she had to go with what she thought was best for him.
"Three days isn't enough!" she cried. "One week! Please, Chime…"
Chime couldn't argue with Gleam. He knew she was right, a week. A week of rest. There was no room for discussion or argument, and je knew it. In the middle of it all, he wanted Gleam to rest, too. He didn't want her to get ill. He knew, knew Gleam would come down with a serious stress related illness, and he didn't want to see her like that. He didn't want her to fall ill because of him—it happened once before and he never wanted to see that again, not if his life depended on it.
"You should rest too, Gleam," he said. "I don't want you getting an illness from extreme stress."
Gleam nodded, but did not agree. She didn't want to leave Chime alone when he was almost deathly injured—she couldn't. It was wrong.
"Someone has to help you," she said quietly. "I can't rest, I…"
Chime smiled at her. Even though he knew he shouldn't have, he did anyway. Gleam knew there was no contest and decided resting from the long day was her best bet.
As Gleam placed herself on the couch, Chime could feel something tick inside him. Murder. He killed five boys. The revolution. The revolution had ended. It was no longer a revolution, it was over. The revolution, just like he predicted, was over when everyone had been dead. There was no more revolution. The revolution, he caused it to end with his own two hands. A monster, he knew that he was a horrible monster. The revolution had ended, and it was because of a monster like him. He was a monster, and he would never be anything more or anything less. He kept on repeating the phrase as he drifted off to sleep and began resting. A monster, he was nothing more than a monster, and he knew the truth more than he wished to believe.
End of chapter nineteen, next to come: in an escapade of helicopter stellar, the demon escapes. The world falls apart as the ocean woefully lets out a sadistic plea.
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Is everything becoming clear now? Yup. I bet it is. Wait until you see chapter 21. B]
You knew Chime loved her, didn't you?
ALSO TO BE CLEAR--STYLE IS NOT GLEAM'S FRIEND. THEY ARE ACQUAINTANCES.