The Lineage

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.


The Lineage
By 11


Chapter 01
Circus of Freaks: Advent of Darkness

Stupid alarm clocks. That was my first thought in the morning. That and that all of them should be burned and buried in a pit. A pit with rats so that their wires can all be ripped apart with jagged teeth never to be used again. At least this is along the lines of what I was thinking when I slammed my fist down on the clock so it would shut up. It fell from my desk to the floor.

I knew I’d set it for a good reason, but that reason just wasn’t coming to me right now. So I was about to doze right back off to sleep when the retarded hunk of junk started ringing again in short bursts. Angrily I swung my pillow down on it, but it kept ringing. By that point actually I don’t think that was my alarm anymore.

With a groan I glanced over at the other side of the room where my phone was ringing. Who the deuce would call this freaking early in the morning?! I didn’t want to get up, but the noise wasn’t stopping. Why had I never had the sense to take both the phone and alarm and bury them? Then neither of them could bother me at times like this.

But the phone was still not shutting up.

After a good five minutes I was mostly awake, but I was feeling spiteful towards the phone and caller for making sure I couldn’t go back to sleep again this morning. So I took another couple of minutes to get up, rub the dust from my eyes, and stretch. I glared at the hunk of metal the whole time. It stopped briefly before it started up again. The ringing sound was almost more urgent than normal; which of course increased by inclination to ignore it.

I went to the restroom, brushed my teeth and drank some water. I walked back into my room, stretched my arms over my head and listened to my shoulder blades roll against each other. I felt very lazy. I glanced around my room.

Dark colored scrolled paper with stretches of red decorated the walls, a pegged sword sat on the opposite wall, and a mess of paper scraps and worn books cluttered the desk beneath. My backpack full of homework remained untouched.

In addition to the dark colors, there were a couple magazines, most based in music or film, a couple game information ones, a couple comics, and a single playboy was sticking it’s edge out of one of the piles.

Thicker books were propped on the shelf or balanced on the edge of the desk. A couple loose papers depicted my own version of symbols and translations of some writings in those books, some still held the papers as a marker of the spot in the book I was translating from, the others were numbered.

My favorite article was the unobtrusive shoebox on the floor. The lid was half off revealing the fading glint of rusted knives. The only reason I had them was because they were rusted from blood. Someone once mentioned something about infection – but it’s not like I get blood on them and then cut myself with the things – that would be stupid. Handling them is fine if I wash afterward.

The box of rusted metal should not have been my favorite thing in my room, but it was. Though not really mine per say. I have a theory that people in general have several different ways of thinking and several different sets of desires, inclinations, and taste, and these sets may or may not be congruent. I can’t say anything particularly about ‘my’ likes and dislikes, but a part of me has very distinctive taste. I tend to let it dominate despite not particularly caring for it myself.

It’s not like I wanted any of this stuff in the first place. I’d say it’s a part of me that I don’t particularly care for, but I still indulge its every whim. I rationalize this is because I have none of my own. It’s interesting, because due to that part of me I’m sad that the rusted metal now lacks the smell and glimmering red that faded long ago. It had been a while since I’d had a fight and was able to get a new piece.

Occult paraphenalia, metal, weapons, outdated books, a few other interesting or disgusting items, depending on one’s taste, litter the sides of the wall. There’s also my mess of clothes all over the floor and hanging off the bed. It’s weird that I live here, since I’m not the one particularly interested by it – it just sort of accumulates anyway. Why do I sleep here again?

A sharp ringing sounds in my ears again reminding me of the incessant phone. I sigh defeated by the annoying sound and I finally decided to trudge over to the ever ringing phone. “Hello?” I asked in a bored tone. Whoever did call me this early better have a good reason for it. After this, I’m burning all my electronics. They’re all too noisy.

“Naruto?” the voice is upset, reprimanding maybe, and I flinch slightly.

“Hey Shikamaru…” I greet, “Why are you calling so early in the morning?”

“Naruto, are you still at home?” His voice is calm but it’s the calm that is a definite warning. Something’s gone wrong for me but I don’t know what. “I figured you might be. You do know it’s ten minutes from homeroom right?”

“Ten minutes?” I repeat perplexed as I look over at my clock noting that... well that Shikamaru was right. Why didn’t my alarm wake me up? That’s what it’s supposed to do isn’t it? I’m not panicking.

“Are you skipping again today?” Shikamaru continued on the line, his voice growing more agitated as the silence lengthened. “Naruto?”

“I’ll see you in nine.” I tell him, hanging up quickly. I pick up a shirt from the floor, it doesn’t smell that bad, so I pull it on. I check my pants, they’re not pajamas, I’ll wear them. Then I grab my backpack, snatch the keys from my desk hurry out, lock the door and break into a run down the street.

My muscles protest at the sudden move to action when they were just deciding to wake up with the rest of me. Including my sleeping gut. It rumbles to life briefly before settling in my stomach. When its awake the rest of me wakes quickly and I’m bolting as fast as I can for school.

I live alone now since I turned eighteen a couple months ago and I work part time, enough to pay for the one room apartment on the cheap side of town. I couldn’t stand my foster family and I’d been planning on living on my own ever since I knew I could when I turned eighteen. The lease is only for six months and once senior year is over with, either I’ll be able to go to college at the same time my flat is rented out to someone else, or I don’t get in and renew the lease on my apartment and start working a lot more shifts at my job, or get two jobs, or whatever.

It’s not really a plan but things change way too fast for me to plan anything more than a couple of months in advance. Most things I say and do on a momentary spur not because I thought about it. Shikamaru has told me plenty of times that’s not a good thing, but it’s gotten me pretty far in life all things considered.

I did manage to make it to the classroom in time. By that I mean I got there before the teacher, because he wasn’t there when I entered my homeroom classroom and died on my desk from lack of oxygen and overworked muscles. When I bothered to check the clock I saw it was two minutes to class rather than the one-minute I had predicted to Shikamaru on the phone.

“Wow, you made it.” Shikamaru says his voice sounding slightly sarcastic, or exaggerated, I can’t tell the difference just now. Can’t talk, busy dying.

“While it is great you always make it in time somehow, have you ever thought of getting up early and not having to kill yourself getting here?”

No. Really, that never crossed my mind. It’s entirely my choice that I die everyday trying to get here on time and then sleep through first and second period because of it.

“You could get an alarm clock.”

“It didn’t wake me up!” I managed to snap through my wheezing.

“Did you smash it when it rung, or did it not ring?”

… Sorry, my brain just blanked, what was the question?

“Figures.” Shikamaru sighed, shaking his head and turning away from me, facing forward in his seat as the bell rang for class to start. “You’re too troublesome.”

Yes, thank you for putting up with me anyway. Without you I’d be absent from all my classes all year. I meant that, I do appreciate it. Even though the phone usually wakes me unkindly, and won’t ever stop and goes off really loud in my ear, and so on.

I could take the time to explain the function of school but that is boring beyond belief. Suffice it to say it is designed to crush the human spirit. When the bell rings away for the end of the day, everyone bolts for the door. Students are like trained race horses in this way – and sadly I’m still one of them. Given that I exist in this soul-crushing environment and still maintain a sense of self it’s a wonder that I’m passing and even doing well in most of my classes. My advisor said I had a pretty good shot at getting into a college if I can keep my nose clean for the next month or so until graduation. That means no fighting so my recommendation letters will ‘glow’.

So I have been dutifully avoiding a public confrontation, or one that is within range of the many security cameras around school property to prevent such events and catch guilty persons. The cameras are the security that school opted for when the current treasury couldn’t afford metal detectors. In a few more years though they’re probably have that too.

The fastest route from my last class to my locker is across the walk outside through the teacher parking lot, through a short alleyway, around to the other side door and up the stairs. The alleyway I just mentioned is one of the few places on campus that is not subject to video surveillance.

Some people go there to make out or have sex on school grounds rather than the bleachers. But I’m not mentioning that because there’s a couple there now, I generally ignore that stuff. No there’s just one guy. I know him pretty well, dark scraggly hair that looks like it’s never been washed, hard dark eyes that slant upward.

He’s the most rotten scum I know at this school and I hate him, if only because he won’t leave me alone; ever since that one time… just one time. It’s not like this hate stems from the fact that as kids he and his friends used to beat up on me on countless occasions, of course not! I’m not that unforgiving.

I pause just outside the alley. He sneers, “What, Naruto? Are you so scared, you can’t leave the view of the cameras?” I regard him coolly for a moment, and put my hand in my pocket. My hand touches chill metal. Unfortunately I didn’t bring a knife today, but at least there’s something there.

My fingers slide into the grooves and my thumb brushed over the spiked edges that cover my knuckles. “No. Not at all.” I move into the alleyway.

Almost immediately he lunges at me. A good strategy: take me out before I can get my weapon out. He’s got brass knuckles too. It felt like a large brick in my face. That was careless maybe, but I couldn’t take my weapon out while still in view of the cameras.

By now my hand is out too, and he’s close enough to counter. I lash out but he dodges. He backs off quickly and glares. He hates an even playing field. But if he doesn’t have his friend he usually needs to take me out in one shot. Even if he has more power than me, I’m faster than him.

His hand moves first then his body moves forward just as quickly. I moved in time, but he grazed my shoulder. I launch myself from this short range and extend my arm. The blow connects at his jaw. The jagged edge of my knuckles tear at the top layer of skin. He leaps back, and feels the strip of broken skin; it didn’t draw blood. Probably hurts plenty though. It’s a shame. It would have been cool if I had taken a chunk of his cheek off, but no such luck. I’d have to bring a knife for that.

He moves fast, and I should have been fighting more seriously since he got that first hit in, even if it was superficial. He’s got a knife. Still, it shouldn’t be too bad; the worst that could happen is he kills me.

I smirk, “Come on, you don’t know how to use that.” I taunt and I know it makes him angry when the vein at his temple starts to throb. Yes I taunt the guy with the knife. Because I know him. I know if he gets angry he’s easier to beat, even if he has a superior weapon.

Predictably he lashes out, “You retard! Like you know how to use anything!!” He lunges and slashes out in a wide arc with the knife. I move back enough to be out of range then leap forward. My one hand catches his elbow so he can’t whip the knife back around. The other, with my brass knuckles, goes straight for his face. It tears at the skin again. He snarls and pulls away, lashing with his other arm back toward me.

There’s blood on my metal knuckles now, they’ll probably join the knives in the shoebox of rusty metal objects. He stumbles back to the wall and my eyes go to the place on his face that I cut open, a thin river of blood is starting its way down his cheek now.

Blood flows a lot like water, despite being more viscous, but it’s about the same. Instead of a clear runny substance, blood is thick, rich, and red. It looks full, active, and somehow alive. I can smell it from the short distance away, it’s like newly coined pennies, almost. It’s metallic, and also tangible, living.

A familiar feeling coils in my gut, like a serpent that has come alive and writhes in the center of me. It sends a rush of weightless feeling all through me, and I clench my fists to keep myself from lunging forward and tearing at him some more. I don’t really understand why I would want to other than that blood fascinates a part of me. That and my body is all but trained to pursue what interests it, whichever part, to whatever means to attain that. It’s a feeling very close to exhilaration.

At first I didn’t notice he had moved. Not until the blood was gone and a knife was centimeters from my face and moving fast. I moved in time. I dropped under the blow and rammed my full weight against him. He wasn’t expecting it, I managed to slam him back against the brick wall. The thud of his body cracking against the solid object barely reached my ears. They were still full of this fuzzy pounding.

I slam my fist upward under his chin and the other, the brass ones, into his gut. I draw back quickly in case he’s still ready to strike again. But he sinks to the ground wheezing from the hits. I kick the knife from his hands and walk out the other end of the alley.

I head back into the building and up the stairs to get to my locker. The brass knuckles are still on my hand. As always there’s that weird fleeting thought that I should lick it while it’s still warm and wet – but I succeed in squashing that thought completely. I will however probably end up putting it back in my pocket to put in my shoebox when I get home.

I trudge over to my locker and I spot Shikamaru a short ways away chatting up a pretty blonde girl from our year. She’s pretty I guess, and they seem like they’re happily talking about something. It doesn’t involve me though, and if Shikamaru’s trying to get a date I’m not going to walk over and hurt his chances. I fit in my locker combination; which I don’t actually know, my hands do. It opens and I pick up my books to head home and do my homework, since I didn’t do any yesterday. I don’t have that much though.

When I look up again Shikamaru’s heading toward me looking smug, and the blonde girl is on her way down the hall with a jaunty bounce in her step. They probably have a date, why else would they be so absurdly happy.

“You have a date,” it’s not a question, more of a comment. Shikamaru arches an eyebrow at me but he’s still grinning. I grin too before turning back to my locker. It’s not really my business anyway.

“We’re going to a movie this weekend, that new one, whatever it’s called.” He shrugs and I snort.

“If you don’t know the name, that means you’re taking her to a chick flick,” I look back at him. He doesn’t deny it and shrugs again.

“Not that it’s your business.” Shikamaru tells me, then gives me a critical look like I’m a bug or something, “How come you never have a date anyway?”

I do have dates. For video games on massive multi-player online role-playing games I do. Shikamaru answers his own question though. “Right, I remember, because other than being a ‘normal high school student’ you have an interest in things no one else does.” He’s talking about thing like the shoebox in my room – he doesn’t know about that, but he has a pretty good idea anyway, he knows I collect things with blood on them.

A glance in my locker would probably tell anyone as much. I’m not stupid enough to keep weapons in there though. But there are books, existentialism and ‘supernatural fantasy’ as well as mythological expounds on ancient beasts, namely the ones that are cannibalistic or are otherwise associated with blood and guts and other nasty aspects of violence and death.

It’s amazing the amount that has accumulated over the course of human records. It really is fascinating, but other people are so offended. If that’s the case why do these things even exist?

“And this of course immediately excludes me by common rule from all groups at school.” I finish his thought.

“Except the gothic druggies, emo, and other special categories.” He reminds me snidely. I kind of want to hit him, but considering he’s my only ‘normal’ friend that wouldn’t be a good idea.

Still, considering that most orphan foster-raised kids are supposed to have tons of problems, I think I got off pretty lightly if my weird fascination is only issue I have. “And all the people who whine, indulge in self-pity and have nothing better to do than write about their pathetic lives online and hope someone cares-”

“Yes, your superior logic amazes me, why you must be some sort of genius of all wit that has ever been in creation,” I interrupt him. See I can do it too; use long words to make a short sentence very long. This is a witness of the results of dictionary abuse.

“I know you can make fun of them easily. They make it easy. Understand that I don’t care.” I tell him. It’s not as though I really can call them friends though, it’s like we’re interested in the same things but in a different way and for a different reason. It’s not that I think it’s cool, or because it reminds me of myself, nothing does. My broke from my foster family a while ago and I still do it, so it’s not for the sake of anyone but myself. I don’t feel special because of it, I’m aware it’s an anomaly. I just not something I can control.

“Why do you like the macabre so much?” Shikamaru asks suddenly. He’s asked before but I’ve never been able to explain it satisfactorily. I can’t even explain to myself unless I want to sound crazy. Why does anyone like anything? Just ‘because’? Is it interesting?

Does anyone else have a part of them that seems independent of your own thoughts and experiences? I think that’s the reason I like these things so much, it’s because it exists in the first place. It if wasn’t there I wouldn’t like the macabre, but because it is there I do. That probably doesn’t make sense. It’s the only theory I’ve managed to come up with though.

“I have no idea,” I answer truthfully. Shikamaru rolls his eyes. I feel like I need to explain myself but I’m not sure how. “It’s just… well why do you like things? It comes naturally, it’s something I found and love and can’t rationalize why.”

“You ‘love’ blood, skulls, metal weaponry designed for pain, and all other freakish paraphernalia?” Shikamaru reiterates with no small amount of derision. “You ‘love’ it? Aren’t you using too strong a word for it?”

“Yeah.” I laugh and shake it off with a grin. But I think that’s pretty accurate, though it’s not me, it’s just that one part. My hand reaches into my pocket involuntary, and I feel metal slide over my fingers. I smile slightly and I remember his face, the feel of the metal smashed into his jaw, and the blood that still stains the metal in my hand. I hope it’s still there.

I pull it out slightly, it’s close enough, the hall cameras won’t see, but I can. Shikamaru follows my gaze and visible stiffens, his expression hard. “You’re still collecting things that have blood on them?” a familiar sound of distaste comes into his voice, a rough edge to his tone, just short of outright disgust.

Blood makes most people squeamish; I know that. I know Shikamaru is one of those people. The red color over the brass assures me the blood it’s gone, but the red has thinned to fit the metal grooved where the plates fit together, it sits in the thin lines like tiny rivers of brilliant but fading red.

“What? You were fighting again?” Shikamaru hisses in a low voice. There’s no one else in the hall now, no one can hear anyway; I barely hear him myself, it’s like he’s speaking in a muddled background, and my eyes are locked on crimson grooves.

A color that is impenetrable by sight, dark and lovely in the lighter traces that coat lightly over the brass itself where it was before fitting into existing contours. That feeling of a creature stirring in my guts coiling on itself and moving subtly inside me reappears, fainter this time but nonetheless noticeable. Crimson, wet, and luscious, still thick red…

“Put that away before someone sees.” Shikamaru hisses at me.

“Yeah,” I agree sliding it back in my pocket, satisfied that the blood was still there.

Glancing back in my locker I hadn’t noticed that at the bottom a white paper envelope sat like it had fallen in. When I don’t close the locker up immediately Shikamaru looks too. He looks puzzled too.

“It’s not a love letter.” He confirms before he reaches down, past me to pick it up, and turns it over to the front. “It’s for you though, they got the right locker.”

I tear it open in a single motion and take out the single paper content. It folds, “We the staff, cordially invite you, Naruto Uzumaki, to the opening of Circus of Freaks. As a member of The Bleeding Immortals e-list you are invited to come with a friend to the opening of Circus of Freaks free of admission charge.” I read.

Oh so it’s an invite to some event. I check the location, not far from here, and the date… today? How many days has it been since I checked my locker? Oh yeah, 3… they might have delivered it then or yesterday, hm. Wonder why it didn’t come in the mail, maybe a staff member goes to school here if it’s a part timer? Still very odd…

“Well it sounds right up your alley, congratulations,” Shikamaru gives me a short pat on the back and starts to walk away, “I’ll see you later.”

I’m about to let him go when I reread the note that I and a ‘friend’ can both come free of admission, and I reach out and grab the back of Shikamaru’s shirt. He yelps and jerks back.

“You jerk! What was that for!?” He exclaims angrily, “What?!”

“I’m going,” I tell him, “And you’re coming with me.”

“What? Why?” he frowns sourly, “I don’t even like that kind of stuff.”

“Because we’re best friends, and I’d hate to go entirely alone, and it says I can bring someone else for free, and it’d be a total waste of money to have free admission for two and have only me go!” I explain giving him reason after reason.

One of the ones I omitted being that it would annoy him greatly, and an annoyed Shikamaru is oddly one of the few fun people, because he’s more easy to talk to then, and he gives faster replies on occasion. “Please Shikamaru! Please!!”

He sighs, narrowing his eyes at me, “You are such a bother…” he shakes his head, but I grin; I’ve won. He never actually agrees to anything but when he says that it’s either because he’s mildly annoyed or it’s a stand-in for saying ‘fine’, in this case it’s the latter meaning.

Now I get to complain about how neither Shikamaru nor I own a car. I’m old enough to drive but I do not have an overly cumbersome chunk of metal on wheels to actually drive. Therefore our feet become very irritated with us around the time we reach this alleged ‘circus of freaks’. Now when I noted that it wasn’t far from here, I was thinking relative as in I’m not running and I’m not walking after school near evening with a grumpy friend who is telling me the whole way here how we’re wasting valuable online gaming and/or sleep time.

He also implies that it’s probably why I don’t do as well in some of my classes and how I may be infecting him with my detestable habits. As ever his wit with insults never cease to amaze me, speaking with this guy, is how I learned my impeccable grammar and vocabulary. This is a characteristic that continually surprised and vexes my English teacher. But how can you help driving an old bat to tearing her hair out in the middle of class when you can?

Back to our destination, the circus of freaks, isn’t so much a show of the bizarre so much as the curious and as of yet not quite fully researched and explained. Of course to Shikamaru I’m sure that the chosen title is very astute. To summarize, I had fun, Shikamaru seemed vaguely interested at some points, but most of the time just looked like he wanted to barf, leave, or bash his head into the wall, perhaps all three – not necessarily in that order.

They had a few fortunetellers, those are mandatory for circuses it seems, although one was pretty freaky since she was missing her left eye and didn’t have anything to cover the empty socket; I really wanted to ask her how it happened but it probably would have been rude. Contrary to popular belief I do in fact possess a pesky sense of politeness and propriety, I just occasionally forget it, unfortunately I did not do so then.

Ooh! Ooh! They also have a guy who can swallow his own jaw… that is so cool!! It’s like his upper mouth lengthens, he’s got this huge amount of skin that he stretches to cover his jaw, and his teeth look like their folding in on his mouth. Hey neat, you can see his veins through the skin of the stretched skin, it’s all wiry like a spider’s web. If you look closely it looks like you can see the pulsing from the blood flow. Awesome, I didn’t know you could possibly see through the skin on your face other than when you’re pale and blood flow increases to make it incredibly red. Hm; I wonder why Shikamaru looks like he’s going to vomit.

The ‘circus’ also has something of a petting zoo, except you can’t pet them, they’re on display but all together and you look into this pen where only the staff is allowed. They had an exhibitor to hold up a particular one if you were very curious and couldn’t get a good look. I’m sure this person was very annoyed with me by the time Shikamaru was able to drag me away.

A lot of these animals seems like they’ve been crossbred to make it so half their body is a different color from the other half, another was this small almost amphibious thing that had some weird anomaly where it had a third eye. I really wanted to poke it, to see if it was real, but I wasn’t allowed it’d damage the animal or something like that.

There was also goats with three to six horns, that was kind of interesting. But you could tell their bodies were awkward and cumbersome, even to themselves, since they had to droop their heads for the weight; or maybe they were tired and trying to sleep; I don’t presume to know the answer.

A cat with two heads was also of a lot of interest, I don’t even know how they did that, maybe it was like Siamese twins in humans that are attached, but in cats. It was kind of funny to watch one yawn while the other looks like it’s lightly dozing already. Obviously, because of two heads the minds weren’t linked but I couldn’t figure out which one had control of the body or if it was just a periphery thing for one head that controls one side and they have to work together. But while one looked like it was trying to sleep, the body could stretch to accommodate the yawning one; and when the exhibitor picked it up, the dozing one started to hiss and the body accommodated that while the one that yawned just sort of sat there.

Although to find out the answer I guess the only way to be able to tell might be to cut it open and take a look, but if it was me I’d hate to lose such an awesome specimen…

“Hey Naruto,” Shikamaru started after we left the ‘zoo’ display area, “it’s getting late, let’s head home already.” Looking up at the darkened sky I hadn’t even realized that it had gotten that much darker. I hadn’t thought we’d been that long at the ‘circus’ but apparently we’d spent four hours already, if we’re listening to the clock on Shikamaru’s wrist.

“Yeah it is late, okay let’s go.” I agree and we start for the exit. Shikamaru sighs like he thought I’d never want to leave, can’t exactly blame him though, if we really were here four hours. Maybe Shikamaru should get his watch checked, maybe it’s an hour or two fast. But then I guess I can’t really argue with the absence of the sun just below the horizon, and getting farther away by the minute. However something made me stop, and I heard Shikamaru stop too, puzzling as to why I ceased to walk to the exit.

“Naruto, it’s really late. We do need to go; they’ll probably be closing up anyway.” He says, as if to try and persuade me that my train of thought, he assumes is that I’m going to stay longer, is not viable. I already know that, I don’t plan to stay. It’s just that door on the ground over there… I really want to know what’s in it, not sure why but my gut is responding to it, not quite the same way as blood, just something vaguely apprehensive, as if there’s something in there that it knows.

“That’s probably their cellar, storage;” Shikamaru notes following my gaze. I walk toward it and he comes after me, “What are you doing? It’s probably something for staff only no matter what it is; they have them a lot of places.”

“But aren’t they usually marked as ‘staff only’?” I question, reaching down to the handle. I can’t help it, I want to investigate, some odd reason pulling me, on instinct almost that permeates the rest of me starting with that odd feeling in my gut.

The wood creaks as I pull it open; Shikamaru seems surprised, I am too since it isn’t locked and usually you’d think it would be. There’s no light down there, just concrete stairs that seem to fall away into the darkness of whatever is beneath there. Dust clouds at our feet a moment as I dropped the door open, so it fell to the ground leaving the darkened crevice open. It’s entirely silent.

“You can go ahead home Shikamaru,” I tell him, trying to keep my voice steady as that apprehensive feeling comes back, “I’ll see you tomorrow in school.”

Shikamaru shakes his head, sighing again, “You’re too troublesome.” he mutters. I glance at him, but I don’t think I can dissuade him; what reason do I have for doing so anyway? Can’t think of one, except if it’s convenient for him to head off now.

Without another thought I head down the steps, trusting that there will be one more step after the next, and I won’t just fall through the ground into the pits of hell or something like that. Shikamaru is right behind me; smart tactic, if I fall, chances are I’ll scream and he can start running back up the stairs.

Eventually I can’t find another step, I’m on flat ground. “Hey, this is the bottom.” I state; I can hear Shikamaru behind me so I know I’m not talking to nothing.

“Great, geez that’s a lot of stairs, you can barely see the top anymore,” He complains as he joins me at the bottom. Looking up I note with some surprise that the top is in fact this light patch for the door about two inches wide. Hm, so we must be well below sea level or something.

“Seems like concrete down here,” Shikamaru shivers, I can tell because we’re standing pretty close and there’s a draft, his voice is also slightly shaky. “I can’t verify without any light, but it’s probably just storage.”

His voice shakes more as he keeps talking, and truly this place is starting to creep me out. I can’t see anything but dark, and I can only smell dust, and something decaying; stranger tough I can also catch the very familiar taint of blood and metal in the air, it’s stagnant and dead.

It vaguely reminds me of a meat house without the chill or the lingering scent of something roasted. I’m not moving but my heart is beating faster, pounding against my ribs, I can feel it in my throat

“Yeah, let’s head up.” I turn and focus my eyes on the patch of light ahead, Shikamaru is ready to go with me; when suddenly the light is getting smaller. The door is closing. I panic. The door is closing!! Stop!!

The panic rises in me. I can practically hear Shikamaru stiffen beside me as he realizes the same thing. “Hey!! Don’t close the door!!! Someone’s down here!!!!!!!”

I start running up the stairs with Shikamaru at my heels. But the door is entirely closed now. I keep running up. Suddenly there’s a sharp metal sound as the stairs falls away and I’m sliding down. I cry out in fear and surprise. I yelp when I hit the bottom falling silent. Shikamaru must have gone through a similar experience. He’s sitting behind me, his breathing slightly more ragged than usual; I can’t blame him.

Why did I want to go down here again? And Shikamaru, I practically dragged him here! What’s going on here? I don’t want to die. Am I going to die? Here? Is someone besides us down here? Or is ‘something’ more accurate?

Something in the darkness around us seems to quiver. It’s a rasping almost laughing sound. We both sit waiting in apprehensive fear. The smell of metal and blood is stronger than the dust now. Every part of me wants to flee and scream, but I stay still and silent, shivering and waiting.

A dim yellowish light suddenly comes on. I wince back at the sudden light after my eyes were growing accustomed to the endless dark. That rasping sound is stronger and more defined as some sort of cackling. I hear Shikamaru gasp and freeze. I open my eyes to look around the room.

Red greets me. It’s all metal, with red over it. A table with chains at the four corners, a rack with chains and a turning gear the metal wound around. There are knives on the table, and a coffin of nails against the wall. A small-scale guillotine sits in the corner and barrels of spilling over substances I can only guess at are lines against the wall.

The whole place is splattered with dried blood just as it stinks of it. There’s that familiar coiling in my gut. But I can barely pay it any attention. Since panic is all that surrounds my mind for the moment. There are dark doors with spiked edges, and the floor looks funny in places. This place, there’s only one description for it, a torture chamber; slaughterhouse.

I stand and Shikamaru slowly does the same. I don’t bother to look at him, I know his face must carry a similar fearful and bewildered expression as mine. The raspy sound tapers off, and a cold almost silver voice replaces it.

“Greetings humans. Shall we play a game?”

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