Title: Until the last drop of blood
Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn
Character / Couple: Belphegor
Other characters featured in this chapter : Mammon, Shark
Prompt:
Power Rating: Yellow
Summary: Bel decides what will be his weapon. Reflection of power.
Warnings: One Shot. Not for delicate stomachs.
Note: The descriptions Bel ago other Varia I have not invented at all, but are taken from an interview with Bel in the manga. Information taken from here: http://reborn.wikia.com/wiki/Belphegor
Link to the table / set: http://alexiel-fay.livejournal.com/14493.html # cutid1
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Belphegor was eight years old when he joined the Varia. He always had eight years when he completed his first mission, so perfectly in fact that even shark had no comment to make. Eight and a half years it was said that it was time to tailor their technique and make it more dangerous and relentless attack. Mammon had followed step by step, sometimes discreetly, sometimes exposing more, suggesting that as the mate was right after all, he had to choose him and let him in Varia. For its part, not Belphegor had found nothing to say against Mammon, rather, was that which was best.
Levi was an idiot.
Shark was noisy and stupid.
The chief knew how to fear, but when he had to download the nerves, most of the time trying to kill the shark and gave a good reason to clear the lungs of all traces of oxygen.
Lust had the air of a pervert and talked too much for his taste. And hopped.
E. .. Moscow is not a throat that could establish a normal relationship.
Mammon, however, it was nice. Could hardly do think clearly or to make them think the right thing to have the idea that he needed. He was small, not bulky, annoying and never did anything for nothing. Just as he loved the blood, basking in the red in ecstasy child - the apotheosis of infantilism, the most pure, uncontrolled, wild, free civilization - so Mammon was hopelessly tied to money and greedily continued to live.
were those want to make it pretty clear that the idea of power. Power is to get enough blood and ecstasy supreme master, this was for Bel. The real power, that does not need to be fed with new points as easily dragged down by weakness, lay in the way that the mere sight of a red drop could make Bel what it was. A genius, as he had called Mammon.
" Genius? Shishishi means to be number one? "
The power comes from above, the power comes from the earth, the power comes from wind. And knowing grasp in all its forms simply by clinging to a need that is rooted in the blood, vital and deadly form par excellence, is to be brilliant. This was fine. The naturalness of the genius, the source of the madness that was born when man is at the crossroads after his death, a step too far away from life and too many near death. There, where the power of Bel would lead to madness, and then let it fall into oblivion of the Red Death.
" means that you will remain one of the Varia. Forget the numbers. "
" To me it only takes one. I just the first. "
" As you please. "
Discuss with a child, it was brilliant or not, after all, was always the same. Absolute selfishness and hunger. In one word: power.
A row of gleaming blades, knives and fatal form curious, was resting on a bed of Bel. They shone in the gloom of the room and bowed to their master, bending under his touch and swearing allegiance. At the upper end, in a hole, an invisible thread them all bound, as an army held together by the voice of thunder the Commander. The thread that ran the excitement of Bel electricity, the energy that has always made those knives move, simply by following his will.
The wire was concealed genius and makeup, the thread that would follow to find the blood and allow it to paint the ragged wounds of the victims. The blood that eventually would have spotted all over him, soaking the skin, clothes, blood and send it straight to hell.
That would be his weapon.
*§*§*§*§*
Shark was noisy, the Bel repeated every time she saw him. He screamed constantly, twisting and shaking her hair white and had definitely need a trim. It was not yet overly long, not reaching even half back, but Bel found them ridiculous and sometimes thought they were the conductors of that voice unbearable. That amplified.
" VOOOOI, what are you doing here, kid? "
He was almost ten years, Bel, and at midnight would come on his birthday. In fact he did not mind too much if, that time had only useful to recall that eight years had Rasiel forever, rotting every day in the black earth in which Bel had buried, and that he would go forward, overcoming every second. It was in those moments that felt more distinctly taste the blood of his brother - of his own blood - on the tongue.
totally ignore the call of Shark and continued to wander the corridors. Shark was almost certainly headed for the room Xanxus. Or maybe he was returning from there, whereas he had the assurance of one who needs to make a killing or threatening to explode.
" The Boss has not yet shown his anger at you, right, kid?" Shark said, catching up. He had tasted it in any form, in every situation and every hour of the day. It was not just anger when it came to him, actually.
" Shishishi, I wait for him."
" brat, tsk."
Actually Bel had always felt a strange form of fear of Xanxus. It was not just respect for the Boss who served - he felt no respect for anyone - but it was the way Xanxus could manipulate the terror that almost put him at ease. Neither knew what the discomfort, it was not yet managed to give a name to what he felt, but it was so. There was something atavistic - a word that his father had often said he was a child and had learned the meaning through Rasiel, which had made furious - in the way he acted. It was as if his humanity as they were devoured by power, but that was not a power that rested on the blood, as happened in Bel. He kept it his humanity was the humanity through the blood that was shed.
Xanxus gain power in another way, in a way that fascinated him but gave him the chills. Shark must have known what it was, but had no intention at all to ask. One day he discovered one day would go so close to unmask him completely.
But yet. The wait would have sucked away any form of patience, he knew, therefore, to cancel and melt each type of emotion, Bel took from his pocket one of his knives and left the skin index was recorded, up, up to send forth crimson drops. The finger in the mouth, like a naughty child who looks at the disaster that has combined with growing satisfaction, Bel created the ecstasy and power.
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