Fate (DISCONTINUED)

XIV

JACK
I have never felt much anger before.

I feel it boiling in my blood, the adrenaline coursing through my veins all the way to my entire system.

Bloodlust. Rage. Anger. Hatred.

I clenched one fist as I bit my lip. Over my years of being an official in Oletus Manor, never have I felt this way towards newcomers.

I lifted the files with the Photographer's name on it. The one behind all my rage.  The main reason behind all my vexes. Even without his direct presence right now I could feel his godforsaken form sitting on the couch that is here before my eyes, those eyes begging me for consent.

It was clearly written in his jaw that he really meant what he did the moment he spared and even talked to that grey-haired man who has always been known for his man-of-a-few-words trait, and nothing gets me off steam more than that.

After every single thing I have done and managed to accomplish for the sake of getting back to the person I love,
Why does it have to be him who gets what he wants?

I let out a huge sigh, my mind going back to the time life decided to play its game on me. The yells. The sobs. The moment I felt the feeling of caring towards people for the first time in years.

However, all those things are nothing but a dream now, for he had lost all his recollections, let alone his former self.

I watched him play on matches, heck I even made him go against me. If I were to pour all my honest feelings out, a week of crying to myself would never be enough.

"Yo, Ripper-Bro. Just bringing your not-really-your-favorite daily dose of post-match files and all. Nothing much of a big deal, but that Photoboy did leave a few survivors dealing with massive injuries based on what I heard from the other side when I was walking here. Guess this just shows you can't trust someone from the looks, hey?"

I said nothing as my mind processes the Feaster's words. Hastur himself then fixed his cloak, his tentacles protruding from the gap in his hands.

"Fatally injured? Give me their names." I let out, eyes still looking at the monitor displaying the results of the damned hunter's match earlier.

As much hate and loath I have towards the Photoboy, I have to be honest that he has what it takes to be one of us hunters, especially after witnessing him putting all his determination and skills into that sword he wields all his life.

"Um, I did not manage to look at how the peeps over there are fully, but here are a few things I can deduce. You had put Naib Subedar and Eli Clark in that match. And let me tell you those two are in a very bad condition right now. The Mercenary had to get stitches all over his arms and the Seer is now dealing with massive bleeding-"

"You what?! Say those names again." I interrupted. It is like my mind stopped working as I heard the name I have my whole concern on.

"Naib Subedar and Eli Clark...."

That's it. I'm losing it.

By now my once-had-been human hand is fidgeting so bad that I could feel the sharpness of the claws drawing drops of blood on my legs, despite having them covered.

"Hastur. One more thing I need to check. That Joseph guy spared the embalmer in the match preceeding this, right?" I asked, adrenaline and hatred coursing inside me once again.

"Yes... Hey! What are you trying to do? Jack!" The Feaster said, which I ignored.

"Then that is all I need. Now kindly leave before I end up causing more damage."