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You think this was a joke?
A ploy for you two to enjoy?
You think I'd sit back and let you relax?
Have you get away with this blasted thing?
No,
Not a fucking chance.
Those were Takashi's thoughts as he slowly descended down the stairs from the open balcony, his sword drawn the moment he broke his glass of liquor with shards still digging into his palms.
The tip of his blade dragged itself over marble, his silhouette a ghost amongst the crowd of colors that danced and laughed with festivities for such a delighted union.
A marriage made of convenience.
Each step was a testament to the tinkerer's boiling anger, reaching new heights until he emerged through the glass doors that led to the garden of beautiful roses.
Each petal, each flower, each leaf and bush would be his witness to the unsightly act of insanity by his hand.
He had never lost his temper of humanity, not the slightest despite many scuffles and fights.
But... Tonight?
He'll let that monster inside take its prize.
"So you've finally decided to join me, my beloved mechanic." Midas mused with a malevolent smirk, not once turning from the view of the full moon that served as their sole spotlight beneath the twinkling stars as their audience.
The roses danced, chilled by the evening breeze.
"I was wondering when you'd decide to speak up from stalking me on that balcony." He chuckled, finally facing the silent pretender of peace, the man of low class existence.
A man gifted with hands that could create, yet tainted with blood of past vengeance.
Now it was no different, his candy pink and blue eyes fixed onto Midas' figure with his arming sword in full display in one hand; it glared beneath the moonlight, reflecting the light that met the monster's eyes.
That monster, being Midas.
How could he?
How could he treat this marriage unfairly?
Treat a woman worth gold this unfair?
Use others like a glove as if it were nothing?
It reminded him so much of a man he hated for such similar ideals, and it brewed the storm of emotions that threatened to spill.
The anger was overwhelming, it felt hot beneath his skin that his body could function for survival.
One, and then two.
Then more came like a testament of god seeking the mercy of release, to be freed from such vengeful anger that drowned the man alive.
Each tear that fell was a poem of hatred, seeking for the other man's demise that preached a number of anguished cries.
He wanted him dead,
Buried 6 feet under.
Dragged to the deepest dwellings of hell.
This man…
Deserved to DIE .
There was no scream, there was no yell; not even the sound of clashing iron could meet one another's existence as the blade pierced flesh.
A chuckle turned to gurgles, blood coughed out before a bloody grin emerged.
"So, this is how you'd crack?" Midas spat, gripping the wrist that held the sword deep into his body — he tried to force it out, but the inhumane strength of a man pushed through his patience was beyond what he had to comprehend.
Reason was no longer present.
A sudden twist of the sword had it carving inside, and soon Takashi cleaved through one side of Midas' body, flesh torn as blood splattered across the field of green and red roses that began to bloom.
But it wasn't enough, not when a man bridled with hatred wanted more from the man brimming with greed.
No words were needed as Takashi swung his sword again, and again, and again.
Repeatedly.
Again,
The sword is tearing through skin.
And again,
The blade slicing across flesh.
And again.
It was a painful cycle of revival and death, tormenting the boss that felt both satisfied and enraged. After all, it was a sight to behold to see the usually unwavering tinkerer snap to the brink of mindless murder.
A victory for him, to still be intact unlike the other, and all it took was for him to openly defile his marriage with the lips of death.
Takashi could barely hear the words that left Midas' lips, mocking and possibly cursing for his audacious actions of atrocities.
Raising his sword, he pushed the tip of the blade into the body of red, watching the blood pool beneath them both before retracting it.
Only to raise it once more, and stab down on a different part of the body.
Again,
And again,
And again,
And again.
His palms were sweating and bleeding from the shards, fingers shaking from gripping the sword so tight that it began to hurt.
Then it slipped .
The sword fell from his palms, his body shaking from the fury that surrounded him like a burning inferno.
It wasn't enough.
Fists formed tight as Takashi grabbed Midas by the collar, his other hand raised as he began to beat the other with his bare hand.
Each strike, he wanted to hear something snap.
He wanted something to break as he repeatedly reeled his arm back, just to bring it down with speed and force to knock the man's face to the side, the strength in his blows weren't shy as pale yellow skin began to redden and bruise.
But one wasn't enough ,
it just WASN'T .
Dropping his grip, straddled over the beaten body, he continued his violent physical assault of unrelenting anger.
Dead.
A nasty bullet punch to the cheek, a sharp left hook to the jaw.
He wanted him DEAD .
Each blow was more powerful than the last, until his hands were bloodied and bruised, knuckles white from the grip.
All the colors began to drain from the world as he continued to beat the other down to what he deserved, to the hell he was going to pay for all it was worth.
Everything just turned black, red, and white.
The black of the man's hair caught with grime, the white of his own hair framing his face as it fell from the shelter of his cap, and the red that continued to make a mess from all of his attacks.
Yet, as his anger died down, the smirk on the man's face below refused to vanish.
Although the struggle was futile, the entire situation proved the dynamic of wits.
And Midas had won, not once snapping through their years of unending conflicts.
“Satisfied?” He mocked, watching bloodied hands twitch as a laugh erupted from his throat.
Everything hurt, but the amusement that danced within his veins to see his rival so demented had truly proved who was far more superior.
Who was BETTER .
“Kill me as much as you'd like, it won't change anything, my lovely mechanic.” Midas sneered, tone dripping with mockery as his lips curved up in triumph as he met dual hued eyes, glaring down at him with unyielding anger.
Oh, it was satisfying to see his usually angry mutt be a demented maniac.
To know, only something HE did would put the spiteful mechanic into a state of derangement.
A tight grasp around his throat had Midas choke on laughter, the madness of their relationship of bleeding hatred.
It was everything about them.
“Funny, isn't it?” He started, his voice dripping with knowledge that only the other knew. His crimson eyes clashed with cotton candy hues, dull and shaking with restless brutality. “Despite the fact that I'm down here, bruised and beaten by you, it doesn't fix the problem you're facing… doesn't it?”
Oh, he was mocking him.
Even in such a situation, the man dressed in red had the audacity to still pick on the other's decisions.
Such poor, unchanging choices.
It did nothing to change what had happened, only quenching the inner turmoil that suffocated the roboticist to no end.
And Midas could see it, the moment he stood at the podium with Ginevra, exchanging rings; he saw him amidst the number of audiences, standing so stiff with his eyes staring straight at him and his bride.
Ah, his wife.
The woman that Takashi stood no chance in having, because she was already his .
Lungs began to burn as Midas gripped the tinkerer's wrists, nails digging into flesh as he glared into his rival's eyes.
It was utterly pathetic, yet satisfying.
Takashi stared down at his handiwork without an ounce of satisfaction, not once content with the damage he did as he witnessed the cuts begin to heal through open fabric.
Midas looked terrible, to say the least, his entire suit ruined from Takashi's attack with a blade and fists. His clean hair is dotted with grime, both from dirt and blood.
A forceful yank, faces close as he sneered, their nose brushing against each other as he spat beneath his breath.
“If I see you shamelessly indulging again,” He panted, his anger simmering to a familiar boil of calm. “I'll be sure to burn this entire mafia down into shambles, even if I go down with it.” He shoved him down, releasing him as he got up, stalking upon his sword that lay on the grass like a bed of calming green.
He didn't look back, silently trekking back into the darker parts of the manor where he often dwelled in.
Leaving behind Midas in a mess.
The man sat up, hands to his neck, a small twitch within his finger as he felt the raw flesh beneath his touch.
Such a grip left behind prints of his existence, a sign of no mercy if tested again.
Sitting up, his ruined coat hanging off his shoulder, the boss laughed through a hoarse and ruined throat.
That's fine, it'll heal.
But one day,
Oh, one day…
He looked up, staring at where Takashi had disappeared to, lips curved to a twisted angry smile.
He'll return the favor for this incident.
Return it in such a way that truly leaves a mark of his existence as well.