Our Journey

Unraveled - Part 2

He didn’t realize how much he missed the fresh air that awaited him just outside those doors.

“Synthetic Demons...How ridiculous.” Alacard muttered under his breath.

Still, the idea had potential, he couldn’t deny that. Creating such Demons of their own was surely easier to handle than Demon’s themselves...He simply disliked the notion of bringing more of their kind into this world.

His gaze soon returned to Max, realizing he was still obediently trailing behind him...He supposed, in a way, this arrangement held merit as well. Max had already proven his usefulness to the Society in an exceptional manner. He alone could take on at least a dozen Demon’s, if not more...And as long as Eon was used against him, his loyalty would remain firm.

Things couldn’t have played out more beautifully than this. Surely the eradication of Demonic kind was not as far away as they initially expected.

Max didn’t look Alacard in the eye, but he could tell the man’s gears were turning...He only hoped whatever his thoughts entailed weren't of an unsavory nature.

By the time they finally returned to the Society, the sky was dyed in an array of warm colors.

Max tried to savor the sight, not knowing when he would next be able to see sunlight.

And as they stepped through the front doors, the voice Max heard calling out to him made his heart leap within his chest.

“Max!!”

Max saw him in the distance, just shy from the middle of the branching staircase.

Vibrant, purple hair, and two toned eyes...Max couldn’t recall when he had last seen them, but he wanted to rush over. The impulse squeezed at his heart painfully. He almost heeded it.

“Have you forgotten?” A voice warned him from behind, ice blue eyes boring down at him. “You are forbidden from interacting with him. Now come.”

Max would normally obey without question, but he hesitated. His gaze lingered on Eon, who was rushing down the stairs, trying to close the distance between them.

“Do not make me repeat myself.”

Max felt a pang within his chest, almost to an agonizing degree...And yet, he still turned away, blocking out the sound of Eon’s voice as he headed back down the winding staircase below. Back into the depths of the building.

He could no longer hear Eon, the familiar door of his room coming into view, before he was ushered inside.

Only silence greeted him once that metal door slammed shut.

The old, worn out bed, the shabby drain in the corner, the crusty toilet, and the same, stale scent.

He might have very well been the last thing alive, or so it felt, but the sound of Eon’s voice lingered in his mind.

Was Eon okay? Were they treating him well enough?? Surely Alacard was holding his end of the bargain...Even so, Max worried.

Just hearing his voice for the first time in ages...Caused all that pent up concern and stress to come loose.

What sort of expression had he been wearing…? Max wished he had gotten a closer look at his face.

Maybe...He was angry with Max. After all, he just disappeared. Max didn’t know when they last saw eachother, and what Eon had last seen of him before that…

His face felt oddly hot, and as he reached up to rub at it, his fingers brushed against something moist.

He couldn’t immediately comprehend what this sensation was, warmth sliding down his cheeks.

Was he...Crying? Max didn’t understand why, but it were as though the lid of an overfilled jar suddenly popped off. He just couldn’t stop, the tears welling and falling as he stared at the cement floor, silently cursing himself.

He was so pitiful that he could laugh.

Enough.

He just didn’t want to think about anything. He wanted to sleep, to shut off his mind and slip away into blissful nothingness. Where there was no sound, no worries, no pain or thoughts. Surely he could be at peace then, even if that salvation was only temporary.

He would only get a few hours of that momentary silence before a loud, metallic creaked jolted him awake.

Although he was not in a deep sleep, it took him an abnormally long time to rouse himself. He could hear someone urging him to his feet, tugging him up by his arm harshly.

“I said get up.” A sharp voice rung out before he was cruelly yanked out of the bed.

Max struggled to his feet as he crashed against the cement floor, his body screeching in protest...But still, he stood up nonetheless, trying to meet Alacard’s gaze.

As always, those eyes looked down on him in disdain.

However...Even as Alacard spoke, his words simply rebounded off of Max’s ears. His thoughts were static, muddled. He was unable to fathom a single word, only knowing that his mouth was moving, that he was speaking.

The room was distorted, moving all round him, but as Alacard left, Max followed.

Thankfully, this seemed as though it were the correct choice of action.

Out of the Society once more, and into the city, silenced by the dark of night.

Contrasted by the usual, day time clamor, this almost seemed a ghost town in comparison. Nothing moved, nothing but the shadows cast by the flickering street lights.

Alacard seemed to be escorting Max personally this time around, snow still blanketing the ground along the city outskirts.

A group of Hunter’s awaited them, perking their heads up the moment Alacard came into view.

“Sir!” Immediately saluting, one of the men approached. “We have the area secured, but the Demon’s we earlier reported have withdrawn further into the forest.”

Ice blue eyes lifted, scanning the dark, black treed forest just ahead.

“They’ve been far more active lately…” A small, inaudible mutter, before Alacard’s gaze turned to Max. “Take care of them.” He commanded, jerking his own chin in the direction of the forest, indicative that Max needed to head off immediately.

He was still barely coherent, but he grasped Alacard’s words at least, this time around.

In the forest ahead. There were Demon’s there...Max didn’t say a word, walking into the forest’s depths.

Each step felt heavy, almost as though weights had been tied to his legs. His vision shook, spiraling, heat permeating from deep in his gut...Slowly...Slowly bubbling up to his throat.

He was going insane.

Gripping the fabric around his chest, Max doubled forward, desperately sucking in the cold, Winter air.

...But nothing could soothe this heat. This madness boiling within him.

The steady thrumming of his heart pounded away in his mind, a voice piercing him, sharp, like a nail being driven into his skull.

...Go on-

Kill.

Kill.

Kill.

Kill.

Kill.

K.I.L.L

A thick, iron scent drowned his senses. He could feel it, smell it, taste it. He was overtaken by it, a blackened, night sky reflecting within his eyes.

Crystal clear, not a single cloud blocked that very sky, a bright, full moon overlooking all. Seeing all.

Strange...He felt so...Calm. He felt similar to having been pulled out of a long, long dream.

...Only to awaken to reality.

The corpses of at least five Demons were scattered around him, strewn apart horrifically.

And once more, Max could not recollect a single memory of what transpired.

When had he been attacked, and when did he fight back?

He vaguely recalled the sensations of battle. The drumming of his heart, the feeling of ripping through flesh and bone echoing within his body.

A dulling sense of thrill and excitement.

His throat...His neck felt set ablaze. That pain suddenly hit him in full force. He was controlled by it.

The other Hunter’s, followed by Alacard, arrived at the scene. Max counted his blessing that they likely didn’t see what had happened...But that didn’t change how mortifying the scene they arrived to was. Max felt self conscious of the looks they fired his way.

Distrust, fear, anxiety. Those emotions flared in the air, making it stagnant.

Everything was over now though. The Demon’s were dead, and Max could finally rest...At least until he was next called upon.

That’s how it should’ve been, but Alacard’s gaze remained firmly on him. He seemed to be waiting for something, but Max didn’t know what that something might have been.

“Your appearance is unacceptable.” Alacard scowled, eventually elaborating after a drawn out silence. “Return to normal.”

Max didn’t comprehend the context of his command, but looking down at himself, he realized he was covered in blood. Head to toe, like he bathed in it.

His arms. They were stained in black, rune-like markings still snaking along his body.

They should have been a variety of vibrant blues, but each and every one of them was a sickly shade of black.

...Something wasn’t right, and Max was aware of the fact that no matter how many times he tried to do so...He couldn’t revert back to normal. Neither the black crawling up his arms, nor the markings, would disappear.

“Do not make me repeat myself, Demon.” Alacard demanded, sending Max into an even greater panic, as he could not meet those demands.

“...I...Can’t.” Max feebly answered, his body remaining as it was, with no changes whatsoever. “I can’t…!” He reiterated, knowing Alacard would take no excuses from him.

And with a subtle click, Max was assaulted by that excruciating, fire-like pain, eating away at him from inside.

He crumpled to the ground, curled up pathetically, black, clawed fingers digging into the snow.

“I said return to normal.”

Even Alacard’s orders seemed to cause Max pain, piercing at his eardrums, his very nerves melting away.

He wanted to rip out his own innards as a means to escape this pain.

But even still, he could not return to normal, that black still reflecting in his swirling vision.

“...I-I’m...T-Try...ing…!” A pitiful voice escaped him, tears blurring his eyesight, these moments of agony lasting for an eternity.

Until, finally, the pain began to ebb away, going dull, distant. His body felt numb, his strength leaving him as his consciousness flickered like a dying candlelight.

He thought...He could still see those icy blue eyes staring down at him.

...Were they really blue? Or...Were they silver?

A cold, chilling, condescending silver.

...Ah. So that was it.

They were his eyes. Max couldn’t help but laugh, wondering if he was doing so in reality, or in his own mind. It hardly mattered to him as his thoughts slipped away from him, falling into a deep, empty abyss.

Silence ensued for a brief time before Alacard finally stepped forward towards the curled up Max, grabbing a fistful of his hair and tugging his lax body up slightly.

...It seemed as though he had passed out. Alacard felt a slight sense of annoyance, but he was far more concerned with Max’s state, wondering if this would become a continuing problem.

He hadn’t the slightest idea of what to do here, but thankfully, he was certain there was someone who would.

Sage.

If there was anyone who would be able to figure out something Demon related, it would be him. So for the time being, Alacard begrudgingly hoisted Max off of the ground and headed back to the Society.

He didn’t have to wait long for Sage to arrive at observation room he had settled Max within.

Out of breath, Sage practically burst into the room, chocolate brown hair slightly disheveled, and honey colored eyes fixating on Max, who was laid onto the bed.

“You’ve arrived.” A flat, deep voice called out to Sage before Alacard checked his wristwatch. “You’re exactly one minute and twenty one seconds later than I told you to arrive, Sage.”

Sage however, had his gaze fixated on Max, his body caked with dry blood.

“Good god, Alacard. What have you done to him?”

“If you are referring to the blood, it’s quite the opposite of what you’re expecting.” Alacard shot back, turning his body to face the man. “But that’s not the issue here.” Reaching over, he pulled down the collar of Max’s shirt, revealing black, pulsating markings. “These markings, and his arms. What are they?”

Sage was taken aback, not noticing Max’s arms past the blood initially. It was also rather strange that Alacard was worrying about a Demon...Though he wasn’t quite sure worry was the right word to describe it.

Still, he walked over to examine Max’s state regardless.

He couldn't help but wince at the sight.

Rather than calling them simply markings, they were more...Alive. They moved along his skin, spread out almost to his chin, and across his shoulders...And although he boasted no visible injuries, he was running a terribly high fever, and was clearly in pain.

That alone was bad enough, but Sage hadn’t even seen his arms yet.

Covered in black, thin, rectangular crystals ran vertically up his forearms. They protruded slightly, and as Sage reached out to touch Max’s arms, he was surprised.

Smooth and hard to the touch. They were covered in some kind of armor, seamlessly melded to his skin. Sage had never seen anything like it before...It was utterly fascinating, but Max’s condition was concerning.

“...I...Don’t know what this is...What do you expect me to do here?”

“You’re the Demon fanatic, so I expect you to figure it out.” Alacard narrowed his eyes. “...Unless you think you’re not up to the task? I do have to wonder what exactly we’re paying you for at times.” He added in, looking down on Sage before bringing his gaze back to Max. “Do something about it. It would be a shame if he was incapable of fighting anymore.”

Sage retained the urge to grit his teeth.

“He’s a living, breathing person, Alacard.”

“He’s useful to me, and that is the only reason I keep him alive.” Silence ensued before he spoke up again. “Now figure something out. That’s an order.”

“I’ll...Do what I can.” Sage finally answered, dejected.

Returning his attention to Max, he tried to think...But he hadn’t the foggiest notion of where to even start. Max was so far removed from any Demon he had ever observed.

First, his fever...Sage had to do something about that.

But then, there was movement from Max.

Their voices roused him, emerald eyes fluttering open, his vision clouded, narrow, spinning.

He could see silhouette’s looming over him. One, garbed in white, trying to speak to him, the other...Steeped in black, with ice cold eyes.

Ice blue...Silver-blue.

Cold, silver-blue eyes.

With a loud bang, the metal bed was flung off to the side, barely upright, a harsh, cutting sound slicing through the air.

Alacard was against the opposite wall, a sharp, blade-like tendril penetrating the wall beside him, just shy of his cheek, a thin, red line cut cleanly along it.

“...Why...Are you...He...re…?” Max’s voice rung out, hoarse pants leaking from his throat, blinded by whatever illusion he was trapped within.

He was slightly hunched forward, standing on the ground, several of those strange tendrils protruding from his arms.

His eyes were unfocused, as though he saw, yet didn’t see what was in front of him. Glowing with emerald light, that unsteady gaze fixated on Alacard, who triggered his collar.

...And yet, Max seemed oblivious, no visible reaction occurring.

“...Max, stop!!” Sage tried to restraint Max, but Max easily tossed him aside, staggering slightly.

“Don’t touch...Me…!” He hissed, baring his fangs. “I know you...I know what you want from me...You want to use me...I won’t let you…!” Max shouted nearly incoherently, his sentences broke apart, not making any sense. “...Won’t...Let you…!!”

All he could see were those silver eyes. Delirious, Max only grew more agitated, lashing out. Those tendrils flailed about in no specific direction, out of control, until Max eventually exhausted himself.

Sage and Alacard took cover behind a nearby, metal desk, Society soldier’s flooding into the room after hearing the commotion.

It was pure chaos, but Max was shoved to the tiled floor, held down, and restrained firmly.

“Don’t hurt him!” Sage called out, trying to defend Max. “He’s not well, he didn’t mean-”

“Silence yourself, Sage.” Alacard quieted him, trying to tidy his now messy attire. Caught off guard by Max’s outburst, he stared down at him, a fierce expression coloring his features. “Take him away. Keep him restrained in the lower levels until I decide what to do with him.”

This situation was a disaster, and Sage felt absolutely powerless, looking down at Max, who was barely conscious.

“..-ease…” A small voice broke free from him, terribly fragile. “...Please...I don’t want to kill anymore…” He sounded so feeble, so pitiful, trembling as tears rolled down his cheeks.

He was so tired. So broken.

He just...Wanted everything to stop.

Just let it be over. He wanted to sleep.