Ira Invidia (I): A Warm Open

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When an eternity of hellfire finally came to an end he found himself fading in and out of consciousness, the shambles of his mind trying to stitch itself back together.

In these intermittent bouts of darkness and thought he saw a number of things, and thought about an even greater number of things as his body refused to work for him.

The first of these things was the graffiti covered brick wall of whatever filthy gutter he found himself thrown in, his body clearly left to the rats by whatever power thought him dead.

(But I’m not dead… I won’t die… until I can do so with a smile…)

It was a powerful thought, and arguably the first real revelation about who he was as an individual.

The second revelation was the fact that it was the only thing he knew about himself, the agony of whatever had left him in this alley having devoured every other thought and memory in his head, save for those that had formed in said alley. (Troubling…)

It was this second revelation that allowed him to realize his third, namely that whatever he’d forgotten was important because of… reasons he wasn’t actually all that sure of, beyond a bone deep longing of sorts.

These were quite the big thoughts for what in some ways could be considered a newborn mind, which is likely why the darkness so gracefully dragged him back into slumber so that mind could cook just a little longer.

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When consciousness next returned he found himself looking up at a young woman bundled up in an oversized coat. Her gracious green eyes glittering out from beneath long brown hair in a mix of compassion and desperation as she regretfully attempted to rob what she thought to be a dead man.

“I’m really sorry about this…” She told him as she dug through his pockets. “I know you’ve already had a bad day because of the Smiling Man but I… I really need to get out of here…”

(The Smiling Man?) He thought, a sense of familiarity coming from the title. One that filled him with an odd mix of satisfaction, admiration, boredom, hatred, and perhaps most curiously hunger…

For the first time since arriving in this alley, who knows how long ago, he found his fingers twitching, wishing to reach out and…

He wasn’t quite sure but part of him wanted the girl to flee (protect your innocence…) While another part wanted her to stay (don’t leave me alone!) And yet another wondered (what does your flesh taste like?)

It was a disconcerting set of feelings to say the least.

A sentiment the girl clearly shared if the way she stumbled back with wide eyes meant anything.

“You’re waking up?” The girl clearly grimaced, despite how much of her face was covered. “I-I’m sorry.” Was her response before running off on her own.

Whether that was rude, smart, kind, or cruel he wasn’t sure. His understanding of those concepts… still a little mixed at the moment. (Something is clearly wrong with my head right now…)

A worrying thought, given how his mind was the only thing with any sort of power at the moment as he was just gaining the ability to move his fingers.

Thankfully, the darkness decided to force upon him another comforting map before he could become too distressed by that point.

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Once more his mind struggled free of the comforting embrace of nothingness, the empty feeling inside of him beginning to gnaw at him in a way it hadn’t while he was distracted by that girl from earlier. A gnawing that was quite painful in truth, as he found it wasn’t quite limited to the emotional sense of the word. (Need to… need to find a distraction… Something to numb the emptiness…)

Believing this to be quite the brilliant idea he began testing his limbs, finding them to be much closer to working order than they had been during his previous bout of consciousness, for this time he was actually able to use his long limbs to pull himself to a standing -if slightly uncoordinated- position by leaning against the wall he’d been propped up against.

Actually walking proved a… more difficult task than he’d initially assumed, if only because of how his limbs seemed to want him to act like some newborn lamb rather than a fully grown… (human?)

He paused at that, wondering why that thought seemed to be a question rather than a statement of sorts. (I mean, of course I’m a human… aren’t I?)

In front of him was a window, the glass dark and dusty due to both the light and disuse, but thankfully seemed to reflect the alley proper.

Meaning when he stepped in front of it he was able to quite clearly see what he believed to be a handsome enough man with short -albeit long for a male- hair, his bangs covering his forehead even if they did nothing to hide his dark eyes. (See a human.)

Sadly the makeshift mirror and the alleyway were both too dark to be too precise with the coloring of anything, but from what he could see of his own scarred skin by rolling his pale sleeves up to a position he was more comfortable with at the moment, he was of a tone that could pass for a tanned white man or a pale black man beneath the paler scarring that littered his arms.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

(I wonder which one it is?) He considered his limbs for another moment before taking another glance at his reflection.

Only instead of a somewhat handsome human he found himself staring at a dark brown rabbit man with glowing red eyes and a pair of horns.

A brief inspection behind him proved he was alone. And a second of his clothes proved that he was wearing the same half-charred white button up he’d seen on the rabbit man.

Returning his gaze to this new reflection he found himself staring at a now white rabbit with red eyes, dark stitchwork visible all over his fur.

He raised a hand to his cheek, feeling smooth flesh even as his rabbit reflection ran clawed fingers over the stitches on its cheek, the motion pulling the fur slightly, and revealing something hidden beneath the fur.

Rather than being intimidated by this he found himself thinking (interesting) even as a blink of the eye returned the reflection to that of a human.

“So I’m either not actually human or I’m insane…” For some reason he felt completely comfortable with both of those possibilities.

It was as he pulled back from this closer inspection that he realized he had a smile on his face, one that he hadn’t even been aware of, one that now that he noticed it filled him with (love/hate/fear/hunger/joy/despair/acceptance).

He blinked, not having expected such an extreme reaction from just noticing the smile.

It was the extremity of this reaction that had him do something that he’d come to realize was the height of foolishness…

Namely…

He tried to stop smiling.

(The pain kept coming, but he’d keep smiling because…)

(Her smile made the pain go away…)

(And it came back when she finally stopped…)

(He smiled, his eyes wide as he realized that monster’s smile was the same as his…)

(Despite the whole building burning around him… he couldn’t help but smile…)

(Two fingers pressed up against his cheeks, forcing them into the shape of a smile he didn’t feel…)

(And so he’d continue to smile because if he didn’t… well…)

The Smile Didn’t Like That…

Shattering glass and pain snapped him out of it as he found his fist half way through the glass, sending massive cracks through it and fragmenting his reflection into seven very different eyes, before turning into seven reflections of a man who was very clearly shaken in spite of the smile on his face.

“Right… not doing that again…” He chuckled, leaning a little more towards the insanity diagnosis than just a few moments prior.

Pulling his hand free of the glass, he found he’d done quite the number to the poor thing.

He also found his flesh pushing the glass free through no action of his own, the small cuts they left behind quickly stitching themselves shut. (And that’s a point in the ‘not a human’ direction as well…)

“Come on, I think it was over here.” A voice called from one end of the alley.

“And I don’t get why we’re heading towards the broken glass.” A second added. “People are breaking into shit all the time.”

“Yeah, but around here our people. Meaning either it could be some of our boys who we can a cut for helping or it could be some other fucks thinking they can do something in our territory.” The first voice explained with something resembling logic.

(Need to hide.)

(Or charm them.)

(Easier to just kill.)

(Am getting hungry.)

(Could play dead.)

(Bargain maybe.)

(Too many unknowns.)

He stuttered a step, the cacophony of his own thoughts far more disorienting than he’d been expecting as his mind went in more than half a dozen directions at once.

Unfortunately, given how he was still getting used to ‘walking’ that single stuttered step was enough to send him crashing to the ground.

“Huh, who is this asshole?” One of the voices asked.

“Probably just some junkie drugged out of their mind.” The other dismissed him, (how dare he?!)

He blinked, not sure why he was so offended by that when (better they underestimate than over, it’ll make things easier.)

“Bet this is the one breaking glass and shit.” One of them said, as he felt a kick to his side. “Fuck, man looks like a fucking Smiler…”

Several of his thoughts aligned at once, with the single plan to (kill them both.)

Not even really thinking about it he reached out with one of his hands and pulled on the leg of the man who kicked him with an amount of force that he hadn’t expected from himself as scrawny as his reflection had been.

Still it provided him with an opportunity he wasn’t quite willing to throw away as it brought his attacker down to his level, where with surprising ease he grabbed the man’s throat before ripping it out with a clawed hand.

He felt a burst of something inside of him as he watched the man rapidly bleed out, almost as if the life was leaving the man and instead entering him.

With far more ease than before he managed to climb to his feet, where his (victim’s) compatriot punched him across the jaw.

A few moments prior this would’ve been enough to knock him back to the ground.

Now it just made him growl in rage/hunger/excitement.

Faster than either of them realized he grabbed the man by both his shoulder and his head before burying his teeth, his fangs, into the man’s throat and ripping it out.

Once more he felt a burst of something filling him with energy he hadn’t had prior, even if the sensation was less noticeable than the first time. (Because you were weaker/emptier/poorer/hungrier.)

He shook his head as another wave of thoughts crashed down on him, and he tossed the man to the side as he tried to steady himself against the brick wall rather than once more falling to the gutter like the two men he’d just killed.

For whatever reason be it that they struck him first, that they were clearly ne'er do wells, or simply because he wasn’t human he found he wasn’t all that guilty or concerned about the killing bit. In fact some part of him wanted more of it.

His eyes drifted to another nearby alley window, where he once more saw his reflection.

Only this time he saw a smiling man with a bloody maw full of fangs and a hole filled with flickering static beneath his now parted bangs. The entire visage quite clearly answering the question of ‘is he a monster or is he just insane?’ (Clearly it’s both.)

And he couldn’t help but smile at that.