Prologue
Terror.
Infliction of panic, pain and paranoia.
It begins with a flicker of a thought and then spirals to a path of open malicious flame, destruction and devastation. It all begins like a normal day, the sun grants warmth and then, when night time strikes, the moon is at its optimum, chaos ensues.
Those lovers of the night, the rhythm and beat of melodies surging their hearts, go out for the boost of adrenaline, the taste of alcohol and the euphoria. A night to let loose, they say, before it’s back to work the next day. Yet, what is assumed as a night of letting loose turns to utter terror and bloodshed.
No one is prepared.
No one can prevent it.
No one knows of the outcome.
Will destruction light its fire, ripping apart anything and everything, or will light be shed and chaos be stopped?
Those caught in destructions path are to become a bitter sweet memory; they will become yet another number in the amount lost and not by choice.
When it strikes there’s confusion, people pause to look around in wonder, oblivious to what is about to occur. For why should they fear? It’s just another night to let loose, they say.
Another strikes. There’s one of two things people do.
Firstly, power of fear can lock and shut down your rational thoughts, taking over and forcing your body to still. Your brain, part of the body yet has its own process, the mother, blindly throws commands in hopes of them being processed.
The second is the instinct, the natural occurrence which sets in when adrenaline is at its height. Without a thought your body is compelled to run, to get away from fear, away from being targeted and away from the King, the one who looms and promises to one day claim you – death.
Those on guard, the warriors of the country, rise to attention and instantaneously spring to action. With a flurry of footsteps and cries of frustration, there’s order. For the Hokage, the own King of its land, demands their voice to be heard in this madness.
Those carried by frenzy, charge around the village, screaming with terror and blindly trying to flee. No process as to where they could go, people rush into one another, bashing and throwing themselves amidst the mayhem.
Glowing embers illuminate the navy blue blanket sky, lone smoke trails congregating together to create one massive overcast, gloomy, grumpy and cloud like. They stay, watching the utter destruction they've caused, revelling in the sight of such disarray and taking pleasure in the sight of the crimson flames steadily licking their way up buildings.
As the night goes on, the flames tame and submit to the hands of human beings, the lingering trails dissipating and leaving the sight of devastation. Civilians crowd together, huddling and offering aid to one another, those able busy themselves with seeing to the damage, hoping to scavenge for anything of sentimental value.
Others steadily make their way to the hospital, seeking for help and support, wounds varying from harsh burns to scrapes and bruises.
The streets may bathe crimson yet, as the sun sends out Konohagakure its rays, a surreal tranquil atmosphere blesses the eerily quiet day. While the village may be in tatters in some areas, it’s only a reason for the bonds to be strengthened like the branches of trees outstretching a hand of help during a storm.
For what was yesterday’s fire and will be tomorrows flame, is today's ignition.
An eternity of darkness or what seems like it to you. Without an ounce of light to be seen, hours pass into days and they blend into weeks, which then turn into months. Yet you can't entirely be sure if it has been a matter of weeks or if a mere few hours. For everything has muddled together to form a gigantic blur, identifying and locating as to where you are is too big a question to even solve, let alone whether it's day or night.
Where are you?
Without the knowledge of time your body suffers from sleep deprivation. The lack of it turns your brain onto overdrive. Memories and information intertwine, locking into place. The thought of taking time to rip away the layers of lies and truths has your shoulders hunching as you grind your teeth.
You conclude memories and information are of no use to you. It's best to start from the beginning, from the very beginning. Instead of questioning yourself, state what is present and currently happening.
It's damp; the wall behind you is moist. There's a trickling, swooshing noise. Focus on that. You attempt to, yet your eyes flicker to and fro. Concentrate. What does it sound like? Biting the inside of your cheek, the brief pain allowing your brain to halt, processing the information of the infliction you've caused yourself, you listen. This time you close your eyes to focus. No more distractions. Concentrate.
Swooshing noise and then silence. What was that? It sounds like water. Good, yes, that sounds good. It's water. It's a little way from you, for your back is pushed against the wall. Okay, so you're near water and in complete darkness. What else?
Dip!
Your lids flash open, your eyes peering into the darkness. Your body tenses. This wasn't like the game of fox and the rabbit. You are not the predator. The calculative, strong fox that sneaks upon the prey with stealth, no you're not. You have no control of the situation that much is known. So what do you have control of?
Focus.
You tilt your head back, a shiver sprinting down your spine from the icy, tarnished object coming into contact with you. Flinching, you recoil your head and raise your arm, your hand blindly feeling around before coming into contact with the object. It's chipped, you notice, from the different dips and rises on it. Pressing your pointer finger down on it, rubbing it along, you pull your hand away and sniff your finger tentatively. It's a distinct smell. Metallic. Strong enough to have your nose scrunch up in disgust.
Copper. The object behind you, what your head was resting against, was a copper pipe. So that noise must have been...
Swoosh...swoosh...
Your head swivels to face the darkness, your eyes flicker restlessly.
The smell of something rancid assaults your nose, causing you to seek safety from behind your jacket sleeve. It has your stomach churning. That smell, the smell of rotting, of decay from the inside out. It's a smell you've become familiar with. This time it's stronger.
Again, where are you?
State the facts.
It's damp, cold, there's water and pipes, it smells. There's a swooshing noise, which is slowly getting louder...closer.
Your brain frantically tries to answer, however there's no need. For you already know where you are.
Swoosh, swoosh, swoosh.
You're in the sewers.
Why are you there?
A mission, your brain recalls with a strike of reality. Your senses finally coming together.
What was the mission?
Your mission...it was...
Swoosh, swoosh, swoosh, swoosh.
This didn't sound good.
Why has this mission led you here?
Swoosh, swoosh, swoosh.
A sense of dawning, like a light bulb going off and granting the light you've deprived yourself for such a long period of time, overcomes you.
Oh yes.
How could you have forgotten? How could you be so stupid?
Poor, poor you.
Swoosh...swoosh, swoosh...
Don't you realise?
Haven't you worked it out?
Why, isn't it obvious?
All this time, all this time and you couldn't even work it out.
You're not alone.
Oh yes, you're not the only thing down in these sewers.
Here's a reminder for you.
You are not the predator.
So, what does that make you?
Like the fox, the predator, there is always something smaller to fight, to take precision and time with, calculating every move and making sure everything is spot on. There are no faults in the plan. You've remained blissfully unaware of the presence slowly getting closer. It's now that you curse yourself.
You've worked it out, haven't you?
You're the prey in this game.
The poor little prey who can do nothing but run for their life. Oh dear, getting yourself into such a situation. Doesn't it just make you want to laugh?
You shake your head, trying to work out what to do.
Ask yourself this.
Who is the predator?
Why is it hunting you down?
What have you done for it to seek you out?
When will it strike and where will it come from?
Well, this is an interesting game, isn't it?
Slowly, fighting the resistance of your body, compelling you to stay still, to ignore the sense of doom that comes with every swoosh, you stand. There's no time. No time to play the damsel in distress. For your entirely alone and whatever is coming closer just may have friends.
Swoosh, swoosh...swoosh.
There's no time...
You have to make a decision.
What're you going to do?
Like any prey would do during this moment in time.
Run.
For this game will never end, between the fox and the rabbit or between you and this, until somebody dies.
All you can do is not die.
You have to avoid your fate.
That's why the game's called this,
Avoiding Fate.
A/N: Thank you for reading the very beginning of Avoiding Fate.
Are you interested in this game?
Stay tuned if you are,
Honey-Emily98
