The Joke's on You Bitch.

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic

It all started the night the best known looter of the Umbra District was brutally murdered. Cyanide realized that the sole source of food of his own Clan was gone, and soon, they would starve. Determined to provide for his substitute family, he starts training as a looter himself, but one day, he stumbles upon some loot that should have never been found...Now his life is in danger, as well as his family. Can he trust the one person he swore would be his enemy; forever?

Chapter 1 (v.1) - The Joke's on You Bitch.

Submitted: October 13, 2012

Reads: 163

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Submitted: October 13, 2012



There was always a time to panic, and a time not to panic. It was known to all mankind that panicking did nothing but put you in a shitty situation, or even make your shitty situation worse. That much was concreted into the laws of humanity, but if that were so, why was she currently panicking? She couldn’t get the chains off of her, nor the steel plate that had been drilled over her mouth; tearing it off wasn’t an option, even if she had been able to use her hands.

A clanking sound followed her foot slamming into one of the metallic oxygen tanks on the side of the door, it wobbled, then toppled over and hit the ground, the pressure gauge exploding and releasing the tightly held oxygen inside. It hissed loudly, like a snake would if it had somehow gained the inability to stop hissing. She regretted the kick, mostly because the sound was grating on her nerves.

She shoved at the tank, and it rolled across the floor and slammed into the door, cracking the wood upon impact and recoiling towards her. With a muffled screech she lifted her hands, the shackled ones, and avoided getting brained by the object, but it still caused tiny black bruises to form along with the red welts that were left behind from her struggles.

She’d stopped bleeding some time ago, her immortal approaches kicking in, but the welts had yet to heal, mostly because even though she knew it was futile, she still continued to struggle. Her body hurt, the welts on her back burned as they healed, and she couldn’t even feel her legs anymore, though a quick downwards peek confirmed that they were still there, just coiled so tightly in chains that the blood circulation had almost entirely ceased to enter into that area.

Her spade tipped tail knocked against the floor in an agony of its own, having its movement restricted by tiny, iron nails that had been drilled into it, and straight into the floor below.So it’s only respite of movement was the tiny, ever present thumping, one that went along with the sluggish beat of her heart. Her eyes stared up at the ceiling, the white of her eyes spotted with almost dead looking red cells, coagulated blood. They closed on a sigh as she listened to the sound of the hissing tank. Looks like the joke is on her….The Joker has been played.

She lay there for a few moments more, but it felt like eternity to her, before she slowly rolled over and jerked at the nails holding her tail down. Her fingers quickly started to bleed, but she didn’t care, she needed her tail free….Soon, the nails gave way, though she was exhausted once more from the tiny exertion. She lay back, and started to lightly doze off. Her own blood felt warm….Her eyes flashed open once more, voices…They were nearing her…

The door. It wasn’t very far from where she lay, if she moved slowly, she’d be able to reach it, and maybe, using what little strength she had, she’d make it out…But…What then? By the injuries and bruises she had, it was obvious she wouldn’t make it very far. Her gaze strayed from the door to the window; it was closer…And not as high. It was open to the constant rainy night outside…If she made it to the window….

With a groan; she started to crawl, using her bound legs to push her forward. It was a slow process, what would have taken a healthy person two seconds to complete, took her three whole minutes.

And by the time she’d reached the window, she was coughing up blood….Or she would have, if she could speak or breathe through her mouth. The metal plate that had been drilled into the place was practically causing her to choke on her own blood. Just…A few more inches….She hefted herself up to the window pane, and with a heave that took most of her strength, she lifted herself out. Only problem was, once she was out, she started to fall. She didn’t scream. She couldn’t.

She landed with a solid thud on the ground; had she been human, she would have died upon impact, or maybe even broken every bone in her body and lived. But since was blessedly stronger than the mortal creature, she was only further bruised, but incapacitated for a moment.

Rain landed on her cheeks, keeping her aware for a few moments more as she stared up into the eternally black skies above her. If only she had never landed in Umbra…Maybe she would have lived longer and not had been….Turned into this creature….

“Ready to die Joker?” Came the voice of the one person she would ever see again. Her eyes slowly strayed from the skies to the figure. It was hazy, and barely visible…Was it a person at all? It was hard for her to tell. Her eyes closed at the sound of metal being released from its sheath. She neither thought nor felt anymore as the blade came down, right into her tired and pained heart.

She was free of the curse…

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