Day Two: Afternoon

[Minoshia]

“Certainly,” Minoshia snickered, bringing his hand to his brow and wiping the crimson fluid from his face. He lowered his hand down in front of his eyes. The tip of his index finger and also his thumb were the only fingers making contact with his face as they glided against his cheeks, smearing the blue dwarf’s blood over his dark, chiseled face. He looked over his shoulder in the direction they had come, trying to decide the most opportune path to take. “I’m sure there are more victims just waiting for us.” He finished his response to his android accomplice with a pointed hint towards further mayhem, his eyes gleaming with giddy excitement – after all, the simplicity of mayhem was one of the few things that he enjoyed.

What was once a meandering trek had turned into a determined prowl. Both men fully extended their legs with each long stride, their pace quickening with the death of Bujin. The dark child was like an addict; once he tasted the adrenaline of a kill flushing through his body he needed another fix, and another, and another. The Android seemed interested in his reactions to murder, he had killed for personal reasons – but understanding the Konat was another mystery altogether.

“Why do you do it?” Seventeen turned towards his partner, leaning inwards slightly and hissing the question. His face was both confident and menacing; he seemed satisfied with his actions – but not entirely understanding. The confused mask had disappeared, but he Konat was sure it would resurface at some point in their journey. Nothing about change was simple, nothing about it was easy. Especially if the host didn’t whole heartedly agree with the mutation. “I’ve never seen you happy, Minoshia, not unless you were killing.”

He shook his head at the question, briefly looking over towards the android before turning his attention back to the horizon in front of them. His response was limited to a grunt, followed by a sinister chuckle. The android kept his eyes on the man for a moment longer, before shifting his head towards the land that lay before them. It appeared the Prince of Darkness was sensitive to personal subjects, much like Seventeen had been only a few hours before. Why wouldn’t we answer his question? Come on, fucking patsy. The voice in his head argued against his decision to ignore the inquisition made by his ally. A lack of trust, that was the reason he refused to explain himself – the respect he gained during the course of this tournament was limited to simply that, respect. Trust was something much harder to earn than respect in the eyes of the child warrior. He was courageous enough to explain himself on numerous occasions, yet when our moment comes how do we respond? By cowering behind a chuckle and a shake of the head? A maniacal cackle, similar to the one that the Seventeen had heard on many occasions during prior encounters, lashed out from the depths of his mind. Is that what we have become, after everything we have been through? I shudder to think.

“Fuck it.” He snorted in agreement; the demon shepherd had never misguided him before. His crude and almost silent flare-up caught the attention of the raven haired warrior, who tilted his head slightly with interest. Minoshia paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts before he spoke. “When you take revenge, you feel satisfied – like a weight has been lifted from your shoulders.” Seventeen nodded in agreement.

“Now, imagine if the only time you felt relief, the only time you felt satisfied, the only time you were happy, even for a moment,…” He was getting worked up now, his voice quickening, his tone becoming angry and loud. This was not the Minoshia the android knew, the cold and calculated responses had been replaced with savage emotion – almost a primitive rage was palpable in his words. “…was when you were killing. This curse, this gift – whatever you want to call it – brings nothing but depression and pain, anger and stress.” He stopped walking for a moment, the machine continued on for a few steps before realizing his partner had stopped. The dark prince was massaging his knuckles down, his hands intertwining and twitching with particular unease. “Some people have the luxury to go to the bottle for relief, or medication. The only thing that dulls my pain, and lessens my misery, is that adrenaline felt while killing.” He continued to walk now, as did Seventeen, the two moved in synchronized motion – both pairs of feet collided against the ground simultaneously, traveling in perfect harmony. “Death is my medicine.” He dropped his head and lifted his hand to his now closed eyes, rubbing the lids with particular vigor and frustration.

“That’s fucked up.”

“I know.”