capeandcowllogs | Ironically I will make you understand [complete]

Ironically I will make you understand [complete]

WHO: Millions Knives (

returntoeven) and Shatterstar (

xf_shatterstar)
WHERE: South side, warehouse district
WHEN: March 11th, late at night
WARNINGS: Blood and gore
SUMMARY: Knives has snapped and is in the midst of a killing spree in gang territory when Shatterstar steps in to stop the madness.
FORMAT: Paragraph

He hated enclosed spaces.

It was one thing he'd never been able to get used to, even as a child - the idea that most of his kind couldn't leave the bulb to experience the freedom that came with uninhibited motion. At the time, he hadn't thought too much about it, though, since he accepted the idea that his kindred were all right with being confined. It was only later that he understood, seeing the exploitation for what it really was. That was why he enjoyed the desert so much, savored the cleanness of it, whenever he'd walked the dusty seas. Here, though, in this city of heroes, villains, and everything in between, he'd felt constrained - trapped, even, and cut off from everything he'd ever lived and worked for. The tension within him over this had been building now for months, ranging from the unprecented tolerance he'd begun to have for certain humans in the city to the recent switch with his younger self, and he just...couldn't take it anymore.

That was why he was here now, in the dark, listening to them scream.

He wrenched a blade out of the leaking sac of flesh and bone and watched it fall, hitting the floor in a crumpled heap. There was blood everywhere, black in the dim lighting, and the air was rank with it - that sweet, pungent stench already beginning to settle in. It was the second warehouse he'd hit tonight, and he was already starting to feel better. The first had been wiped out without a word, cut to pieces before they'd even known he was there. With these, however, he'd taken his time, dismembering a few before cutting the rest down to size. An arm here, a leg there - it wasn't hard at all, and it only made them scream louder. It was like music to his ears, lacking only the touch of home, a side of jazz, to make this truly perfect.

Knives stepped back, observing the horrific spectacle before him, an amalgamation of carved, bloody body parts strewn about in haphazard piles. It was beautiful, a sight that made his heart quicken, the light in his eyes that much brighter as a smile lifted the corners of his mouth. He turned then, the last of them huddled in a corner, already missing a leg and several fingers. Knives walked towards him purposefully, ignoring the pools of blood. He couldn't hear the man's cries, the gibbering pleas for mercy - he didn't care and didn't want to. He towered over him, looking down his nose at the filth, trash that even other garbage wouldn't touch.

The blades came up then, a wail ripping through the air before abruptly choking off into nothing.

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The City had been far too hectic. All of the heroes had been huddled down at the labs for the last two days in an attempt to protect the porter, leaving the rest of the City an open target to the other idiots weaseling around the streets. Shatterstar had been patrolling for hours by that point; the south side of the City was already infested with gangs as it was, and with the heroes being distracted, they'd been up to their tricks all day and night.

However, heading into the warehouse district, the alien found the area to be a little too quiet. There were cars and motorcycles parked outside the facilities, but no bodies around. How curious.

So he continued his way around the lots, keeping his his focus on picking up anything with his heightened hearing. And for many moments he got nothing but silence until the distinct sound of movement caught his attention; a rip in the air like blades. It was a sound a skilled swordsman knew very well. In a flash, he picked up his speed and rounded the building to duck inside one of the opened doors. Immediately the smell of blood invaded his senses, and not soon after he saw the mess.

Bodies. They were everywhere.

Slowly Shatterstar unsheathed his sword and scanned the room for any possible men involved. Everything looked mangled in the building except for a single man (not a man, no) standing soundlessly in the middle of the room. A manic smile was stretched over his face in a bizarre show of absolute pleasure in the kill; something Shatterstar himself could relate to. But the fact that it was Knives standing there and causing the mayhem was a bit of a shock even if it shouldn't have been. 'Star had been convinced the plant had wanted to change his ways. What brought this on?

He needed to get closer. Inching his way along the wall, he headed toward him, eyes never leaving that arm full of blades. Shatterstar knew very well what damage they caused, so he would not allow himself to fall victim to them once more.

"Knives!" he shouted, grip tightening on his weapons. "What've you gotten yourself into, vehjka?"

He should have noticed him come in - under normal circumstances, he probably would have. However, Knives had been too caught up in the slaughter, the sight and sound of flesh being rent in twain, to notice such trivialities. Shatterstar's call made him pause, though, bringing him back just enough to register that, yes, he had company. He turned on his heel, slowly, still smiling, unrepentant and unashamed of the massacre stretched out at his feet. There were stains on his usually pristine clothes, blood that didn't belong to him. Normally, he tried to be neat with his killing so their filth wouldn't get on him, but tonight, he just couldn't bring himself to care. Their deaths and the agony beforehand had been too sweet for that.

The blades still hovering, a living extension of his being rather than a simple weapon, Knives laughed, the sound low and callous in the sheer level of amusement.

"Exactly what it looks like, Shatterstar." The smile widened. "Exactly what it looks like."

The warrior moved his gaze off of the arm for just a split second to let it roam over Knives' bloodied attire and the pile of body parts at his feet. It did not shock or disgust him; bloodbaths were something Shatterstar had grown up on. However, he was still boggled as to what brought Knives to this point; after they'd spoken last, 'Star had gotten the impression that the plant was at least making some leeway from his past ways. Something had definitely changed.

The de-aging, perhaps?

Shatterstar had no details on what had happened to the young boy after they'd spoken last, but now was not the time to ask, obviously. Now they had a huge problem on their hands. If any of the heroes found out about this, Knives most surely would be placed on the villains list, jailed, and possibly blacklisted. There had to have been an explanation for this, but...what?

"Why?" was all Shatterstar managed to say, voice low and calculated.

"Why?"

He repeated the question, almost incredulous for a moment before he just...laughed. There was nothing controlled about it this time, though, a veritable explosion of hilarity that filled the room with the sound of an encroaching, all-consuming madness. He was at the edge, about to tip over into the abyss, but he didn't care because there was a rightness about it, a familiarity that nearly everything else he'd been doing for the last several months didn't have. This was what he should be - what he had been but somehow lost track of - and it felt so good, so right to be this again.

"Why?" he repeated again, still laughing but speaking in the intervals between each chuckle. "Why do you think? They're vermin. That's reason enough to rip them apart." His voice dropped a bit here, muttering to himself this time, the words low and breathy. "Yes...reason enough."

He looked at Shatterstar then, eyes and tone sharp as he posed a question. "Don't you agree?"

Okay, something was very wrong. Knives had most certainly gone off the deep end, and while Shatterstar did not have to worry about being a human - the so called vermin - he did have to worry about the fact that this madness could go elsewhere. Outside this very warehouse. While the alien had absolutely no desire to reinvigorate their past conflict, he would put an end to this now. There wasn't any reason in the world that would stop him from that.

"You already know the answer to that question," Shatterstar replied, leaning one sword against his shoulder and tapping it there as he contemplated the outcomes of the scenario. Knives was still standing quite a ways away, but 'Star never lifted his gaze, not once. "I thought you were past...this."

The alien looked around the room one more time before approaching Knives. "You were past stooping to this; you could have killed me before and you did not. I have not seen this bloodthirst in your eyes, Knives, so you cannot act like this is..." he paused with a thoughtful frown, going over his words and making sure not to put emphasis on anything he knew would make the plant snap even more. "What changed?"

Of course he knew the answer to that question. Of course he did. Shatterstar was cut from the same mold as Vash, and though he apparently didn't share the same outrage and horror over death and destruction, he was still a protector - a foolish advocate of the race that abused and used him like a toy. His lip curled with disdain at the thought of it, eyes narrowing as the other spoke. What he was saying...the fool, he grated, glaring at the approaching figure. What did Shatterstar know of him, the person he'd been before being dragged to this glorified cage? Nothing. He hadn't seen him decimate cities, the pleasure he'd taken in forcing garbage to dispose of itself through the Gung-Ho Guns, how he'd experimented on his own brother, or brought an entire planet to its knees.

No. Shatterstar didn't know. He might have caught a glimpse of the creature beneath the farce, but this was him at his very purest, without the inhibitions he'd imposed upon himself. He'd nearly forgotten what it was like, the crackle of power coursing through his veins soothing, the drug to his withdrawal. It felt good, and he wanted more.

Savoring the thought that there would be more, more bodies to shred to a symphony of harmonious screams, Knives didn't stand down, but rather started walking, over carcasses and bloody smears, the blades held at ready, his answer framed and tainted by crimson promises.

"I remembered what I was."

And I'll cut down anyone who tries to get in my way.

Edited 2009-03-12 17:56 (UTC)

This was a show -- a sample -- of the creature Knives had referred to. So long ago upon first meeting, the plant had told Shatterstar about the days of war and genocide. About how he and his people had been used and so cruelly neglected by the human race. Such disgust and obscenity dripped from Knives' words as he spoke of them, always leaving Shatterstar so confused and frustrated. Humans had been strictly to blame for the behaviours of the Spineless rulers on his own planet, but never had Shatterstar held that against them like Knives had. They both had their reasons and they both agreed to disagree.

Still, Shatterstar did not see this coming.

However, he could not dwell on the what, when, why, and how of the situation; he had to dwell on the now. Knives was eying him up as though he were another walking piece of human meat for him to shred, and there was no way 'Star could let him get the first strike. The warrior had replayed over every last second of their previous encounter in his mind, and he remembered the way Knives moved and the way he attacked on the offense. No matter how angry the plant got tonight, Shatterstar was not going to let him walk away again this time. No, not until this was under control.

"You, the one who insisted there was no point in clinging to your past," he pointed out, stepping forward to begin walking wide circles around the lanky creature. "This ends now. No more of this mess."

Shatterstar's words fell on deaf ears, power already gathering in his left arm, the other's statement of oposition the only reason he needed. If Shatterstar was going to stand between him and his prey, then he was the enemy, just as much as they were. He had been merciful last time, for reasons that no longer seemed clear, the rational hazy, so much so that he couldn't even grasp what he'd been thinking then. His current state of mind wouldn't allow for it - not now, not when there were so many more that had yet to taste the vengeance of his blades.

His limb seemed to double in size at the thought, ivory razors branching up and out, the promise of oblivion reflected in their lengths. Knives didn't move, though, just watching Shatterstar now, the madness dripped from his voice as he responded once again.

"Then come at me, Shatterstar. Come at me," he repeated dangerously, "or I'll bury you where you stand."

He barely got through saying that before a number of blades burst forth, ripping through the air towards Shatterstar's position.

Shatterstar was not out particularly looking for a fight that night, but he was always prepared for one; years and years of training to be a gladiator saw to that, and if this plant wanted a battle, then he would most surely get one. However, unlike last time, 'Star was not wishing to harm him, only to stop him. Knives needed to be snapped out of this, whatever this was, and the alien was prepared to do whatever it took to see to that.

"I do not want to come at you, Knives, but do not think for a second that I will back down from you either!" he shouted as he sprung up high into the air to avoid the attack. The blades were much larger and faster this time, and it took extra effort to avoid them. Easily 'Star grabbed onto a rail above, and swung around the metal to propel himself toward the threat. "You are going to let loose on me today, vehjka?"

Knives did not look impressed, but 'Star didn't let that distract him. Swinging one sword straight towards the plant's throat, he went straight for a kill shot first.

Glad to hear it, Knives thought, eyeing Shatterstar's movements with manic intensity, already calculating the trajectory and estimated point of impact. It wasn't difficult to do, memories of their first battle as well as the war against the ships from earth all coming back to him in a rush. He took both into account but didn't answer, intent on this and satisfied by the knowledge that he would walk away with Shatterstar's head.

Thus, he didn't move, ready and waiting for the strike. At the last moment, he raises his blades, feeling a sharp line of pain drag across his shoulder as he rammed his blades into the alien's body. Grinning maniacally at this brief triumph, Knives twisted them, slowly, painfully, and chose that moment to answer Shatterstar's question: "Perhaps," he breathed, the word no more than a whisper, before ripping his blades free.

He stepped back, still smiling and beyond amused by this entire affair.

Edited 2009-03-13 05:32 (UTC)

And though Knives was happy and manic as he carved his blades through 'Star's flesh, the alien was still bursting with enough energy to keep swinging his weapons at any point in reach. Yes, the blades still hurt just as much as he remembered them to, but the defenses 'Star's body had were always enough for him to count on. Knives would be unable to hit any vital organs -- only one person was able to, and that was Mojo himself -- as they'd shift from harms way and instantly regenerate when damaged.

A loud grunt did escape his mouth at the contact though, and again 'Star scoffed at him. "Try harder then. It will take more than that."

Knives stepping away from him only gave Shatterstar the leverage to strike again, and this time he leapt to the side, using his agility to work his way around to Knives' right hand side where he was more vulnerable. One hand made quick work of tossing his shuriken with superhuman accuracy, while his sword hand struck forward with a slashing attack. "Keep sinking to their low. Come on."

'Try harder'? He wasn't trying. After their last battle, Knives knew it would take more than a simple impaling to get rid of Shatterstar. No, it would take something more - dismemberment or decapitation most likely, which was easy enough to achieve.

The thoughts distracted him, though, however briefly, as Shatterstar recovered marginally faster than he'd expected. He aimed for his right side again, much to Knives's displeasure, again not quite fast enough to avoid the abrupt pain in his side. He snarled, the blades coming up again, fully prepared to block again - only this time, Shatterstar's words did sink in. He heard them loud and clear, and knowing what the alien was implying shoved his already teetering mind over the edge.

His power exploded, the blades expanding rapidly in size in the course of seconds, filling the warehouse itself with the fury of a whirlwind, Knives himself at the center.

"DON'T YOU EVER COMPARE ME TO THEM."

Never feel fear.

Shatterstar used the sentence as a mantra his whole life, but seeing those blades rise and trap him that way let just the smallest spark of it flare up within him. It was enough though to snap the alien out of his reverie and go for the last resort; his move that finished all fights and never failed him when he needed it. Tightly he clutched the hilt of his sword as a loud humming filled the room. It was sounds that he needed to covert into his energy, and just the ripping and whistling of blades through the air made Shatterstar more powerful. In a brilliant red flash, all of the energy sucked back into his sword before exploded out again. Focused and completely using all his body had left, 'Star directed the hit straight toward Knives' arm. There it would still cause enough damage to knock him back, but would block enough of it to prevent a killing.

And the hit was good. The giant curtain of blades flew back with Knives' body and straight through the wall of the warehouse in an explosion of wood and splinters. 'Star fell down to his knees immediately after the hit, exhaustion rocking his body and making him sweat. He hoped to whatever higher being was up there that it would be enough; if Knives came back that strong after that, 'Star would be spending a long time healing, that was for sure.

"Knives?"

He barely even knew what happened, so caught up in the rage and fury of the moment that he only caught a glimpse of the glow emanating from Shatterstar's sword before he was hit with it. The impact knocked him off his feet, the back of his head cracking against the wall with such force that he blacked out, sinking to the floor in a tangled heap of feathers and limbs.

He just lay there at first, the tendrils automatically shrinking, melding with his arm once more. That was still going on when he came to, a minute or so later, but it - he couldn't focus on that. Or anything, for that matter, except...yes, that was his name. His head throbbing and biting back a groan, Knives opened his eyes, blinking away the blurred vision before dragging himself into a more upright position. What was- How did-

He didn't finish the thought - he didn't need to, the slaughter (and Shatterstar's presence) speaking for itself. Knives knew who had done this; he remembered. He remembered it all.

At which point, a wave of nausea hit him, induced by the concussion he'd just received, and Knives leaned over and retched, the meager contents of his stomach splattering the floor beside him.

Edited 2009-03-13 07:03 (UTC)

Shatterstar averted his eyes as Knives got sick, taking the time then to sheath his weapons and climb back to his feet. He'd been covered in blood by just dropping to the floor; so much of the crimson had stained the warehouse from Knives' bloodbath that 'Star had been showered in it by just moving around the room. There was also his own and Knives' as well, and the tattered remains of his uniform clung to him uncomfortably. He was a mess. Knives was a mess. The entire warehouse and the rest of the bodies in it were a mangled, battered mess and the alien had no fucking clue how they were going to get away with this.

Once Knives was finished making the noises across the room, Shatterstar approached him carefully, on guard to make sure he would not attack again. He didn't think he would. "Knives?" he repeated again, quieter in case the plant's head had been injured.

It didn't take long for his stomach to empty, but Knives dry-heaved for a little while anyway, the nausea still swamping his addled senses. He could taste the bile on his tongue, the burn of it in his throat, and after a moment, he managed to get it under control. Covering his mouth with his hand, Knives stared at the mess he'd made blankly, trying to focus. He was aware, dimly, that he had a head injury, most likely a concussion. The retching, the throbbing pain in the back of his skull, and the trickle of warmth he felt against his neck were evidence enough of that. It didn't help, either, that his body ached, still realing from the impact with the wall. However, all fo that was secondary to the ice he felt spreading in his stomach, the realization of what he'd done and, more importantly, what he'd been on the verge of doing.

He wouldn't - couldn't - regret the lives he'd taken tonight, or at any other time, for that matter. But the loss of control...the madness

Swallowing against the bitterness tainting his mouth, Knives moved the hand over his eyes but made no effort to rise, aware of but unwilling to look Shatterstar in the eye.

"Why did you stop me?"

The question was flat and toneless, reflecting the emptiness that seemed to have infected his entire being.

Edited 2009-03-14 03:29 (UTC)

"Why would I not?" Shatterstar immediately replied back. Standing and staring down at Knives huddled on the ground was still so oddly shocking. The alien still was unsure why this had gone on in the first place, and he was not leaving until he had some answers.

Because this mess was going to require a hell of a lot of clean up.

"You told me there was no reason for you to act upon this impulse again. You told me that was a thing of your past. Before you died," he tilted his head to the side, a stone cold expression staring down at the plant. "I stopped you because something is obviously wrong here besides the whole pile of corpses. What the hell is going on? Are you under mind control?"

Each word seemed to make his wound pulse that much harder, his eyes watering a bit behind the covering of his palm. He didn't want hear the things Shatterstar was saying - didn't want to think either because it hurt, but he wasn't really in a position to get away, now was he?

Finally, after maybe another twenty seconds of just sitting there in silence, Knives lowered his hand, using it as support as he tried to stand. It was more difficult than it should have been, his spine and joints protesting the movement, but he persisted anyway until he was upright. He felt dizzy again, though, and he had to let himself lean against the wall, waiting for his vision to clear. Fingers pressed to his eyes, Knives tried to think of something to say - anything that would let him leave as soon as possible. He doubted he could pull that off, especially in the stare he was in.

Finally, though, the last question came, and a short, bitter laugh escaped him, the burst of sound brief but painful. "Mind control? Haha, no...not that. I came on my own, of my own free will and didn't know what would happen until it-"

He cut off there, unable to say anymore or decribe what he'd felt in that moment - the fury that had been boiling within for weeks and how seeing these filthy vermin, so confident no one could touch them, parading around, had just...made him snap. There had been no conscious decision to punish them, just a strange directive that they needed to die and that he had to be the one to do it.

So he had. He'd killed them and enjoyed every moment of it, uncaring of the consequences. And now... Now.

He exhaled slowly, quietly, when he finally answered. "I have no excuse."

Edited 2009-03-14 08:14 (UTC)

Shatterstar grunted, and dropped his gaze back down to the ground and the piles and piles and piles of mutilated bodies. Sure they were gang members and, in 'Star's opinion, a justice had been done in a way by ridding of them. But the alien knew just as well as the plant did that many of the City's heroes did not feel the same way. They would see to it that Knives be dealt with if they ever found out.

More so, this instilled more fear upon the civilians. They were distrusting as it were, and Hodge could quite easily capitalize on this situation with his PR. One missing gang member here and there was easy to cover, but dozens?

Shatterstar only shook his head and narrowed his eyes at Knives. "I could very well contact Wolverine and have you brought in. I don't know that you won't do this again."

His tone was cold and indifferent; Knives' response would be a test.

That comment made him look at Shatterstar, his stares no less intense despite the swimming lines muddling his vision. That the alien would even suggest such a thing made the fury rise in his chest, suppressed by no less real. Injured as he was, did Shatterstar really think Knives would allow himself to be taken? He would rather die a second time than be stuck in some man-made cage.

He glared, but some of the head went out of it at the last part. If he did something like this again... Knives looked away, surveying the carnage once more. He wasn't disgusted by the mess itself and in no way regretted this. It could cause problems, though...a lot of them. But then, he had to ask himself, did he really even care? Did he want to maintain the life and associations he'd developed since arriving here? Did he want...change?

He didn't know, and Knives understood that this uncertainty had contributed, at least in part, to this...episode. He'd been unable to stop himself, but there had been no reason for such restraint at home. Here, though, Knives had been forced to adapt and place restrictions upon himself to keep the mob of self-righteous, self-styled 'heroes' from crawling down his throat...and they'd failed. He'd failed.

It was a sobering thought.

Turning his eyes back to Shatterstar's, Knives did not hesitate to meet the other's gaze, his voice flat and indifferent.

"No. You don't. I don't," he said, adding an inordinate amount of emphasis to the 'I'. "But I will say this." His tone turned several degrees colder. "If a single one of you tries to 'take me in' and put me in a glorified cage, I will die a second time before allowing that to happen."

And I'll take as many of you as I can with me.

The tone and the bitter words did not faze Shatterstar at all. He'd heard them before. Of course, he'd also been locked up in a cage for three quarters of his life, so the argument was valid. However, the alien wasn't sure Knives really understood the threat of the heroes here; he was a cocky son of a bitch, and just because he'd killed people in the past did not make him at all invulnerable to the network. Shatterstar knew a good portion of the City's patrollers from back home, and they were not easily messed with. Knives was far too arrogant; he could beat some, but he would never beat them all.

"Freedom is the single most important thing, Knives, I know that better than anyone," Shatterstar began, clenching his fists at his sides and shaking his head. "But there will be a time when you'll have to realize that you're not at home anymore. We're here and we're stuck whether we like it or not. Being dropped amongst humans in my young age was a very difficult concept for me to grasp and there was very little in my control anymore. But I proved myself the bigger man -- the better man -- by learning to deal with these new people and new emotions. You have to learn." He paused and unclenched his fists before stepping away. "Which is why I won't turn you in. You need to learn. But you hear me, you better learn. And don't think for one second that things won't be different if this happens again."

He backed off, leaving the crumpled plant in his place amongst his mess of bile and blood. Seeing him amidst it and look so broken was enough of a punishment for him, in Shatterstar's eyes. "I'll be keeping my eye on you. Take care of yourself, Knives. Get better."

Edited 2009-03-15 22:46 (UTC)

It was true - Knives didn't understand the threat of the heroes here, or at least not in the way Shatterstar was thinking of. In general, Knives had difficulty accepting that there was another who measured up to his own level of power or, but he had forced himself to at least entertain the possibility since his arrival. Still, in the long run, none of that really mattered to him, and everything could be simplified quite briefly: Either Knives would live free, or he would not live at all. He had meant what he said - if Shatterstar or a group of other heroes tried to take him down, winning would be beside the point because a life subject to the whims of their kind was so utterly repulsive to him that he would end his own life before letting any of them have rule over him.

He listened, though, taking in what the alien had to say without a word. It was a lecture, one he could have done without simply because he already knew. And he was trying, something that disturbed him, in and of itself, on a very fundamental level. Since when did he care? When had he ever cared about what was acceptable to others and what wasn't? It was...ridiculous.

Frustrated - by himself, this situation, and other factors too complicated to fully define - Knives pushed away from the wall and straightened, a strange look in his eyes as the alien concluded. It was fleeting, though, there and gone in an instant. Then, without so much as a word of farewell, Knives walked away, holding his injured shoulder and attempting to ignore the throbbing in his skull.

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Ironically I will make you understand [complete]

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