Work Text:
He woke up with the same dread he has felt for years. Like the childhood memories you can’t remember but know of them. Like a religious child doubting their faith in their savior.
What could Chuuya say about childhood? Did he even have one? Or did he spend it being tortured for testing, destroyed in the name of “the greater good”? In the name of science?
There was a spider staring at him from his ceiling.
All he needed was a memory. A memory he didn’t have, a memory everyone involved knew except for him.
It kept looking at him.
The same way that monster looked at him.
His mind circled back to the events of the last months. Finding out the truth has a price. He dug too deep and fell into the rabbit hole made of formaldehyde.
Antisepctics, scalpels, chemicals, medical tables, the scientist, the goddamns files on the progress of the “perfect vessel”.
It stared at him, the way the crucifying fear of your own self would.
It was always there.
The spider has always been there.
A child being turned into a deity.
The overwelming power causes destruction, it feeds off that destruction.
The unwanted divinity of a child.
He stared back at it. It might go away some day.
Not only was truth too much, it’s consequences were too.
Why did they get thrown in the crossfire?
The flags had nothing to do with the situation, he had.
”Piano Man, Iceman, Albatross, Doc.”
”They were all dead.”
”Tell me, tin man, why did they die?”
”That is because… Verlaine killed them.”
”Then why did he kill them?”
”I believe verbalizing the reason would be meaningless.”
”You’re a machine, aren’t you?! Then give me the perfect, obejective answer.”
”Because of you, Chuuya.”
”This happened because you decided to stay with the Mafia. Verlaine believed these five men were the reason why you wished to stay, so he killed them, and he will mostly likely continue to kill for the same reason.”
”Yeah, it is my fault.”
Not only were the flags gone, Adam was too.
He sacrificed his life for Chuuya’s.
A life that had been man-made, articificial, created with the sole purpose to destroy.
Everyone leaves. People enter your life and leave. It is normal.
That doesn’t mean it hurts any less.
The sheep. With a poisoned knife to the gut.
But they were children. Scared children.
A scared animal will bite, bite to kill.
Some will run, some will hide, some will attack.
But which one are you?
The spider doesn’t go, neither does it stop.
It stares through his soul, like it knows everything about him.
Yet the spider was there, crawling to the ceiling.
He felt completely insane. What could he do?
Kill it? Ignore it? Shove it to the back of his memory to never be seen again?
How could he do that?
Every single time he fell asleep, flashes of scalpels cutting his skin, the destruction of his body from the inside out caused by arahabaki, tests and more tests, syringes with chemicals not even Mori might know woke him up.
Yet he was still seen as a deity, a being to be worshipped by them. The lab was made by the government to recreate Verlaine. Black no.12, but why a god? Was it a cult? A group of worshippers yearning to bring their savior to life as a proof of their faith? Or were they simply in the search for destruction? After all, the project did begin in the great war.
Prototype A-258, from Research Facility B.
A weapon based off french experiments.
Chuuya was sure that someone knew. Someone must know why him and why was he the “perfect vessel”.
The spider staring at him made him feel more uneasy, not only was it there but the deity of destruction that was screaming for control inside of his body, the voice so loud he could feel it’s vibrations inside his skull, but he was sure that there was something he didn’t understand yet.
The spider keep crawling around the ceiling, he couldn’t get it to go away.
And that was the problem, it never went away. No matter all of his efforts couldn’t help him get rid of it.
he could just run, he didn’t.
for some reason, he didn’t run, he never ran away.
Everyone leaves, willingly or not.
A poisoned knife, the mangled corpses of your friends, what’s next? A car being blown up and his partner disappearing for years?
The water to a burning building.
Death to the suicidal and life to the hopeful.
”Whose heartbeat is it, then? Mine? That’s absurd. I’m not even human. Something as sophisticated as a heart wouldn’t suit me.”
”You aren’t human. You’re 2,838 lines of code.”
”You are nothing more than a string of characters.”
The spider didn’t leave, and it probably wouldn’t.
He couldn’t understand.
He couldn’t remember, but his dreams could. He could feel the blood pouring down his arms. The blood. Everywhere and anywhere he touched, like he was created only for bloodlust, a killing machine.
A clone of the original Chuuya for a scientific purpose. A clone that died in his arms.
He did know he was human, that he was the original Chuuya. Yet, for some reason, he sometimes couldn’t believe it. The scar on his wrist proved he was not only the actual Chuuya, but that he had a life before all of it.
But his actions turned him inhumane, the blood that stained his hands and the blood that he was made to desperately crave.
The destruction that made the violence inside him finally be silent. A destruction he needed to survive.
The craving of destruction that he indulged in with his actions.
Maybe the spider will never leave, maybe it’ll always follow him around plaguing his mind with it’s existence.
Maybe it meant he was alive. Not a simple recreation of a dead person, not a god. Alive, like a human being.
Maybe one day, he will finally come to terma with his humanity, with his own self and the past.
The spider has always been there, it always will be.
acceptance bloomed and Chuuya could finally dream, not with blood, violence and destruction, but with bliss.
It meant being truly human.
It meant he was alive.
The spider will always be there, and this time, he didn’t mind it’s presence.