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𝕀𝕀~⚁

.⋆｡⋆☂˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.
❝𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓬𝓾𝓻𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓷 𝓻𝓲𝓼𝓮𝓼❞

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𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐒 as you gaze morosely into a puddle, contemplating the life choices that resulted in this sorry state of affairs.

If you had to pinpoint the exact time and location where it all began to go wrong, you'd say it probably started somewhere around the time your parents trusted some dodgy birth control from a merchant in Aaru Village.

That was a joke (however true it may be).

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚎𝚛𝚞 𝙲𝚒𝚝𝚢, 𝟸 𝚍𝚊𝚢𝚜, 𝟹 𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜, 𝟷𝟽 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚞𝚝𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚐𝚘.

You weave through the market stalls, narrowly avoiding a cart carrying expensive pottery.

"Hey! Watch where you're walking!"

"This is a public footpath dipshit!" You scowl, wishing you had a pyro vision to commit arson more easily.

The sun, high overhead, beats down on the cobblestones relentlessly, melting like hot butter on your skin.

You pass a notice board. A copy of the Akademiya newspaper is pinned dead centre.

"ANOTHER BODY FOUND ON CITY OUTSKIRTS" ft. Exclusive interview with Mahamatra Cyno!

A small excerpt is displayed on the front:

Interviewer: how are you planning to combat the danger posed by the infamous 'Deathstalker' to Sumeru City's good citizens?

Mahamatra Cyno: the Matra are working diligently to see this issue resolved and the perpetrators brought to justice...

While you weren't exactly up to speed with the gossip circulating within the confines of the city, it was hard to avoid whispers of the Deathstalker.

Aptly named after the "deathstalker scorpion", the most dangerous species of scorpion in the desert, with only 0.25 mg/kg of venom needed to be a lethal dose.

This killer was getting bolder, initially only striking in deserted areas of grassland in blind spots that matra patrols didn't cover. Recent cases showed that he was now moving closer to urban areas.

His preferred method of murder was fast acting poison injections. By the time the authorities arrived at the scene of the crime, the victims and any unfortunate witnesses were either dead or beyond saving.

You were, looking back, foolishly unconcerned as you only ventured into the city once a month to buy your favourite honeyed candies.

One could argue that it was these very candies that were the catalyst to the worst day of your life.

There you were, minding your own business, clutching a brown paper bag when there was a scream.

It cut off abruptly, tapering into a thin, reedy cry that you were certain only reached sensitive ears within a few metre radius.

Your head snaps in its direction, alert.

There's a figure lying prone on the ground, an empty syringe sticking from his abdomen. His eyes are glazed over, dilated with fear and his mouth moves soundlessly.

"B-behind..." he chokes on something that you only later realise was probably his own blood.

"Huh?" You look at his face, to the brown paper bag, and back to his face again. "You...want one?"

You take one of the candies and drop it in his open mouth.

He doesn't seem to like that flavour.

The reason why becomes apparent when a needle flies past your head, only missing because of your idiotic decision to crouch down and force feed him sugar.

You whip around to see-

"Holy shit! It's meth walker!"

No, that didn't sound quite right.

"Uh...breath talker?"

Meth talker (?) stands so unnervingly still, you almost mistake him for a statue. At a loss for anything else to do, you throw a candy at him. It bounces off his masked forehead and lands on the grass pitifully.

Despite not being able to see his expression, you can assume he is incensed by the way his hands clench at his sides.

"Hey, there's no need for violence," you take a step back, "how about I pretend I didn't see anything and we can just-"

He lazily adjusts a needle between his index finger and thumb, judging the distance of the target.

"WAIT. I'll even throw in these," you hold up the bag.

With a flick of his wrist, the needle pierces your pelvis.

"What the fuck man, I thought we had something," you mumble, words steeped in betrayal.

The poison is in your bloodstream. It's potent, hitting like a truck with trans-dimensional powers.

He leans to murmur lowly into your ear.

"Not a man."

She plunges the needle in deeper.