The massacre had started and all it took were two words, not to mention a handful of slaughtered guards by his hand, unfortunately dirtying his leggings in victims' bloody chunks. Kissing at the mic he'd spoken into only seconds prior, he pulled down at the coat's sides, clearing his throat, and then so nonchalantly making his way to turn out the entrance that laid his piled-up bodies. That face shadowed by the incoming light leaking in from the gory corridor, even then, with those features shrouded in darkness, he could never mistake those heterochromatic pupils. Dark trench coat over a dark-green turtleneck, taking but another step forward, a string of light followed his pupils to discard the illumination shining onto his skull's rear.
"The Founder wishes for a report, Jester. Inform me of one or die. You are expendable, after all," The Reaper cracked his pointer's knuckle with a thumb after that menacing remark, dead eyes despite their bright coloration shooting right ahead to pierce Icarus's empty heart,
"Unfortunately, I don't have anything to report except for the obvious. Chaos reigns over Paradise and when he reaches the main hall, whoever defeats him gets to keep the specimen for the period we agreed on. If that orchestration is still ongoing and nothing has derailed the plan, then what's the issue, Augustus… Rivera?" Queried Icarus of the Reaper, to which a black tendril, not unlike the ones Ace summoned his back- had extended so far it just scraped Chrollo's neck.
And even still, with the threat of death to the front of his face, there remained nothing visible of dread. Shaking his head as one hand touched the weapon pushed it to the side, the Reaper complied calmly and let it fall, gritting his teeth as the tendril unraveled back within his veins, now rubbing his wrist feeling it slither within his blood once more.
"The agreement didn't discuss you revealing your identity to create a prison-wide riot. What's the point of this?" The next thing the Reaper knew, the demon had warped, and the Jester stood right by him, shoulder to shoulder, man to man, devoid of care of the shorter white-haired male he stood opposed to,
"I understand your messages come directly from the Founder himself, however, I don't much care about you as a threat. You're a mere puppet, stripped of your former glory and made into another of Rivers's lapdogs. If you want to curse something, curse you own weakness for allowing yourself for be this incompetent."
Cursed by that which bound him, the Reaper needn't muster any remaining strength to turn his head, for what he'd anticipated had occurred, and just like a shadow in the dead of night; Icarus Chrollo had vanished without a trace. Scratching under his ear with his finger's nail, a tired exhalation slipped out like the smallest sphere of air escaping under a door's crack. Icarus was nothing like a wildcard, for if there truly was any tarot to identify him with, the Fool was the way to go. Beginning from 0 then sprinting ahead into the future with bottomless potential, the Reaper could only wonder what the Jester had in store for the world he'd make in his personal Hell.
Nevertheless, he couldn't help but step inside, plagued by a genuine curiosity programmed into this lost soul, a stray finger wandered over the keyboard as if pondering which to press. Like fate guiding him, the W key was the way to go, for the monitors to lit up had revealed the collective image of a ginger male covered in blood... with those eyes. The coloration was barely visible thanks to the blurriness of the screens yet even still, he could sense, that something was going wrong. Nothing was happening, he was still surrounded by those mutilated corpses so why and where? Why had it come and where it had originated from? What was that name...
Augustus Rivera?
Back on the underground level of Paradise, a widened tendril holding a shishkabob of ten guards stabbed through the door, their screams as their hearts oozed essentials drowned out as Ace took both hands at each door frame and stepped out, convicts jumping out ahead of his exit. Rubbing his eyes as he'd just awoken from a lengthy slumber, he turned his head to the left where no bodies stood, but that mere impossibility couldn't help but send Wilder's quiet demeanor into a subconscious frenzy. Then it hit him.
'I remember walking through this hall when I first got here, only accompanied by four special grade hybrid-guards. Besides that, I realized that there wasn't much security on this level... it must be because of this corridor. It's an entire circle that meets back at this point. There are doors on the right and left, however, each one leads to a random fate worse than death, granted permission to do so thanks to an added attempted escape charge. That's... for peasants. Fortunately for me, I'm a god among men.'
There was a darkness that enveloped everything in its path, like the claws of a panther sinking into the furry hide of its prey, the next thing the cameras would witness would be something akin to a blur donned with crimson colorations. From the birth of the Reaper to the creation of the New World, a cycle had begun, of death reigning above over every aspect of life with red lightning crackling amongst the clouds as thunderous booms accompanied the element's rule. The Reaper's kin possessed that same infinite potential as he, cutting apart at walls, slicing at doors so their halves would touch the ground and incinerate, spiky ginger strands peaking to the ceiling with Divergence's signature scarlet hue setting it all ablaze.
The tendrils Ace had utilized to his advantage unraveled once more to his bones leaving behind an aching crack effect as they hit themselves again. Finally, he'd reached his freedom, for there was only one door left, but even so, though it remained only one more challenge, he knew it would never be as easy as before. Turning the knob so the lock would hide within the door's side, he easily revealed the doors' contents and peered inside to take a glimpse at the next trial of strength he'd have to endure.
"I'm glad you're here,"
Like a familiar's songs tones lost in time after having faded from memory, Ace couldn't help but feel a wave wash over his being, surrounding his soul in a warm golden sensation. In other words: nostalgia. Maybe it had something to do with the heterochromia engraved into his opposite-colored eyes, his slicked-back white strands pointed toward the ceiling, that white trench or that glove that showed only three of his left fingers, smoothly hiding the other two in a black cover. But this wasn't an illusion, he was here for real, even those tendrils of black sneaking out his back's side, spiraling just the tiniest bit around his arms- he wasn't dreaming.
In the flesh, the very thing he'd condemned from the past was here. The Reaper in the casing of his father looked down at August Rivera's son, standing idle with white eyes and sweat seeping out pores to drench Ace in itchiness. The aura was unlike anything he'd ever felt before, the closest thing he could compare it to was maybe the Bloodied Hunter, but even then, it surpassed all limits his uncle's hide could reach! The power of an Incarnated Requiem Artifact bridling unharbored hostility toward his enemies... this was what the Judge's opponents felt at that time at the Smithsonian, wasn't it?
"Child, what is my name?" The Reaper's words were not that of a father inquiring his child, they were of a stranger begging for memories to return so he could touch that sense of self yet again.
Ace stepped forward; the Reaper flicked his red eye curiously at this movement, scanning over the young man's features, there was no doubt about it. Whether he'd die or not, there laid something about him that was indescribable, yet he recognized the feeling. Maybe, in another world, he, too, experienced this. What those who've mastered the manipulation of their life force call 'Dark Determination.'
"Young man. What do I have to do for you to answer me?"
"H-heh... you don't recognize me, huh? The way we do it back at ANZEN is simple: 'Whoever's the strongest stands at the top'," Ace revealed his tendrils to oppose the monster who dared to wear his parents' skin, two elongated spears shaded black stabbed out his shoulders, pointing right ahead, determined... to face the Reaper in front of him.
"You want to kill me, I see. If that's the way you wish for this exchange then I understand. I'll OBLIGE!"
Next Chapter - The Requiem Reaper vs The Scarlet King