A real killer ♥



The Carmina Country Calf Derby

Nanakorobi Yaoki || Takeshi & Charlie (Event night)


Round and round the wheels go, where they stop only your loved one knows.

Takeshi was hyperventilating as he ran from the bloodied letters on the wall. He pressed his hand over his nose and mouth. The blood made him thing of times long ago. Years ago when he was more stupid, when the blood splattered the walls more randomly and the screams rang through his ears like nails on a chalk board. Takeshi shook his head. He couldn’t think about this now. Someone was in trouble and he had to save them. It was his duty to.

He hurried to the small wooden shrine in the corner of his dorm and knelt on the cushion before it. He pressed his hands together and looked with tear filled eyes at the picture of his parents. “Okaa-san.” he breathed. “Otou-san. Onegai… Mimamotte kure.” Takeshi prayed and grabbed a match from the drawer at the bottom. He pulled out a stick and struck it with trembling hands before lighting a candle on either side of the picture. He bowed his head and prayed again, sparing seconds, before he stood and hurried back to the riddle on the wall. He read it slowly, making sure he got the english words right. Round and round the wheels go. Something with wheels. What had wheels? Cars? There were no cars on Sky High. Anything else?

Bicycles! The answer popped into his head in a moment and Takeshi wasted no time. He grabbed his jacket and grabbed his sketchpad and pencil. He drew a quick skateboard, not bothering with quality, and pressed his hand over the paper, willing to lift the object off the page. But it didn’t come. It didn’t work. Takeshi stared at the page and tried again, but the drawing never gave a twitch. His powers… weren’t working. Takeshi didn’t know how to feel about that. He hated his powers. He honestly did. He was scared of them and the unlimited power they held, but he never thought that he’d have to live without them…

He couldn’t think about that right now. Takeshi dropped the pencil and pad and ran out of the dorm instead. He ran across the campus towards the bike trail and was panting by the time he got there. He needed to get into better shape… Takeshi grabbed one of the public bikes, calling out an apology. To whom, he didn’t know. But he pushed the bike onto the trail and seemed to know exactly what to do. He pushed at the pedals and panted, not allowing himself to stop, not taking a break or a breath. And it wasn’t long before the bike disappeared from underneath him and he found himself toppling forward. He fell onto a hard glass floor and winced. But as he opened his eyes, he saw that it wasn’t glass. It was a mirror.

Takeshi looked up. There were mirrors everywhere. The walls, the floors, the ceilings… He couldn’t see where one wall started and another began. But the moment he pushed himself to his feet, he heard a voice begin to speak.

“Charlie, you never liked your body, did you? Allow me to destroy it for you. Explosives are chained to you and you are surrounded by poisoned glass which will kill you in minutes and free you from your torment. I will even let you watch as you are surrounded by mirrors and you can witness your own torture. However, your dear student is rushing to your aid. He must best several booby traps to reach you, but how far must he go to find the key to your salvation?”

Takeshi gasped at the familiar name. “Sensei?” He rushed forward, looking around. “Sensei!” he called out. “Sensei can you hear me!?” Takeshi began to run forward, using the walls as a guide, but to where, he didn’t know. He only knew that he had to find Sensei and save him.

Charlie enjoyed coffee. Strangely enough, it didn’t make him jittery or hyperactive, ready to start the day. It usually calmed himself down after long days at work. Having a full-time teaching job was exhausting, to say in the least. He at first felt like he wasn’t ready for the responsibility, but now, after spending so much time teaching his students, he felt like all of them were talented and smart enough to make it into the CIA, or SHIELD, or FBI. He felt proud to call them his students, even the ones that weren’t in the Agent major. 

Before he could begin his nightly ritual of drinking coffee and grading, he stumbled forward, legs suddenly loosing feeling. Before he could even call out for help, his world was dark.

He awoke, what felt like to him, to be a few moments later. He trembled, shocked to find himself not on the ground of his room, but upright. He felt a weight on his ankles, his wrists, but he still felt like his vision was blurred, he didn’t know where he was. He gasped, inhaling and trying to regain consciousness.

When he finally came to, the first thing he noticed was, well, himself.

Over. And over. And over again. 

He froze, almost not even recognizing his own tussled hair, his wrinkled button-down shirt, his…bare feet? And chains? He was about to step out when he noticed the glass, careful not to step on one of the many shards that were scattered. His legs wobbled and he sat back down, leaning down with shaking hands (What were on his wrists? Why were they so heavy?). He tugged at the chain on his ankle, feeling resistance shortly behind him. He turned to face the source, only to be faced with more mirrors. He tried to avoid the stares, but it was difficult. They all seemed to pierce him. His own, sorry, wrong eyes.

"Charlie, you never did like your body, did you?"

The voice startled him, making his blood run cold and his joints tense. Who was that? Where was it coming from? “Allow me to destroy it for you.” A cold knot of nothingness, of pure terror rushed through his body. “Explosives are chained to you and you are surrounded by poisoned glass which will kill you in minutes and free you from your torment. I will even let you watch as you are surrounded by mirrors and you can witness your own torture. 

"Wha…." he whimpered, opening his mouth in disbelief. His vision was blurry again, except this time it wasn’t his own drowsiness, but tears stinging his eyes, spilling over his cheeks shamelessly. He looked to his wrists and ankles, breath catching in his chest (his scarred, ugly, disfigured chest). He couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe. He whimpered, starting to push at one of the cuffs, trying to muscle it off of him. 

"However, your dear student is rushing to your aid. He must best several booby traps to reach you, but how far must he go to find the key to your salvation?” He stopped struggling for a second, looking up into the ceiling, at no one in particular. Student? Who else was stuck here, in this horrible death-trap. Beyond his rugged breathing, his struggles for air, he heard an all-too familiar voice. His stomach churned.

"M-Mr. Himura?" he tried, whispering at first. He took a deep breath, leaning forward as he screamed. "I’M HERE! I-I-I’M HERE!" He sobbed, fear making it hard for him to think straight. "Y-You have to get out of here! You have to-to get to safety. A-Are you alright? Are you safe? Are you…" He leaned forward, defeated and crumbling. He dug the heels of his palms into his eyes, tears overflowing onto them. 


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