Drip…
Drip…
Drip…
Droplets of moisture fell from the ceiling pipes, colliding against the concrete floor. Dust particles float through the damp air as light shines in from above, giving them the appearance of pixies frolicking in excitement.
"Hah..haah,...ugh."
Sounds of ragged breathing emanated throughout the sewer, sounding pained and exhausted. Their origin being a man in the center of the chamber, bound and blindfolded. Suddenly, the bound man began to jerk around, thrashing wildly. Seeming to realize he was restrained, he shouted out.
"H-hello!? Where am I!?"
But, he received no response. Nothing but the pitter patters of sewer rats and the continuous, unrhythmic dripping of leaking water.
The man began to forcefully calm himself, taking large and deep breaths, which soon began settling into a steady rhythm. Oddly, the man flexed his muscles, as if expecting something to occur. Once he realized whatever he was attempting wasn't working, his efforts in calming down ceased to be effective.
He began to panic.
Just as his breathing began to pick up, and he was close to hyperventilating, he heard something…strange. An irregular, rhythmic sound that seemed as if it was unable to remain in rhythm was how the man identified it. The sound would change from that of a marching pattern belonging to a soldier ready for war to one not dissimilar to that of an excited child on Christmas morning.
The sound continued to get closer and closer; the closer it got the more giddy it seemed to become. As if it were a hunter that could barely restrain itself, waiting for just the right moment.
Without warning, the strange sound stopped…and then it began again.
It was different.
It no longer seemed like a far off noise coming ever closer towards him
… it was in the chamber with him, it was circling him.
The man bound in the center of the chamber began to panic more desperately and began to struggle more ferociously. His anxiety and fear, born from being unable to see what was around him, unable to retaliate, and somehow unable to use his Constellation, all began culminating into an increasing heart rate that was quickly reaching dangerous levels.
Unexpectedly, something touched the bound man's shoulder, causing him to let out a startled and fearful gasp. Right after, he took notice of the thing's shape, it was a hand.
"Hello, Luke." a young voice whispered in his ear, barely hidden glee lacing their tone.
Luke swallowed at the close proximity of the voice, the previous fear and anxiety seeming to disappear from his face after this person made their self known. However, that fear and anxiety had now been replaced by a feeling of dread, as if his captor being right next to him was far worse than anything else.
Luke swallowed his fear and spoke up, his voice quivering.
"W-who are you?"
Luke clenched his fists in frustration.
When questioning his assailant his voice went up an octave more than he liked; he's shown weakness, shown his captor that they have the advantage and that he is scared.
"Who am I? Well,-" his captor didn't comment on the pitch, but chuckled "-we'll get to that later."
His captor changed the subject.
"I must say it is such an honor to meet you, the great Luke Foster! In the flesh. Or would you prefer Vulcan?"
His captor didn't give him the chance to answer.
"Hmm. No, no I think I like Luke more."
Luke hated how this man used his name with such familiarity.
Although, this entire situation left him wondering who this mysterious man was. Was he a member of the League of Demon Stars? They're the only group he can think of that hold a vendetta against him, considering the amount of times he's openly opposed them.
"Mr. Foster-" his captor interrupted his train of thought, "-you may call me Loki. And no, I will not be revealing my identity to you, not yet at least."
Loki circled around to stand in front of Luke, the last of his speech said in a whisper, almost too quiet for Luke to hear.
"You see, I've wanted to meet you for a long while now. For so, so long. And now…here you are. Right in front of me." the glee in Loki's voice had returned, replacing the contemplation.
"You know, we've met before. Although, I doubt you'd recognize me, especially after so long." He seemed to ponder for a moment, before a grin overtook his face, and he leaned down to whisper in his ear.
"Why don't you give it a shot. Come on, try and remember me."
His malice-laced voice was rough and coarse, almost sounding like a wounded predator's growl.
Luke tried to recall if there was ever anyone who sounded like his captor or evenused the same mannerisms as Loki! But, he couldn't think of anything!
"No luck huh?"
Although sounding like a question, Luke got the impression Loki was certain he couldn't remember him.
"Oh well, it doesn't matter. You'll find out soon enough."
That statement did not make Luke feel hopeful.
"On to another matter! I bet you're dying to know why your Constellation isn't working, aren't you? Well, I'll go ahead and tell you. The chains wrapped around your arms and legs are carefully refined tools made from moonstone. A material said to be a weakness for your family's Ancestral Constellation; it seems those rumors were true, haha. And if you want to know where we got the material from…well….let's just say your family's rival, Nox, was very willing to produce these chains when they found out what I was planning to use them for."
This whole situation left Luke reeling.
First, this man kidnapped him, knowing full well who he was. Second, he bound him in a material capable of neutralizing his Constellation, a secret his family has kept very well-guarded mind you. And lastly, his captor had connections with Nox, an organization composed of only those wielding dark, shadow, or night related Constellations.
'….An organization that was a part of the Bright Star Association.' Luke realized.
No wonder Luke didn't suspect them; although his family and Nox were at odds with each other he would've never thought they'd go this far. Noticing Luke's prolonged silence, Loki became annoyed at the lack of reaction, violent or otherwise.
Seeming to finally grow tired with this game they were playing, Loki tore the blindfold from Luke's face, startling him out of his reverie.
Luke was finally able to take a good look at his captor's appearance.
He was clad in an outfit similar to that of a bartender: gray dress shirt, black vest, black dress pants, and black dress shoes. He seemed around the same height as himself, though it was quite hard to tell when he was bound to this chair.
Considering all of these factors his captor would seem almost non-threatening. That is, until you saw the smirk playing at the corner of his lips, his midnight black hair that seemed to absorb light; all this, coupled with his pale skin, made him quite an eerie sight.
Though, his most prominent feature were his iridescent green eyes, encapsulated by the strange mask he was wearing.
The mask covered the upper-half of his face, while the base of the mask was decorated with an intricate pattern reminiscent of cracks in tile, the area above the base of the mask had symmetrical designs of swirled and stretched shapes, and on the tip of the mask was a symbol not dissimilar to the sun, with the face of a woman lying in the middle.
Luke gave Loki a long look.
"Who are you?"
He felt a hand on his shoulder once again. As he swiftly turned his head to see who it was he saw the familiar face of Loki.
"Loki." his captor whispered with a smirk before dispersing into mist.
Spinning his head back to stare at the Loki in front of him, he saw him with his hand outstretched toward him. On his hand was a swirling fog of mist, and on the mist were two small figures, clad in armor, fighting each other in what looked to be a duel.
"Illusions." Loki answered softly, his guise of a madman seeming to drop, revealing someone who looked far far…kinder.
"That is my Constellation. The ability to change and manipulate how you perceive the world around you. Hence the name, Loki." His captor's softness quickly snuffed out by his madness.
Luke pondered such an ability.
There were many people with illusionary based Constellations, though none have ever really grown strong enough to be memorialized; therefore, they were written off as weak. However, contrary to the popular belief, this man, Loki, seemed to wield his illusions with such ease and proficiency that he had to be strong.
He was able to replicate the feeling of someone's hand on Luke's skin, the implications of that alone were terrifying.
"I can assume the constellation itself means nothing to you, nor would the mask." Loki spoke in a bitter tone.
Loki reached up and pried the mask from his face. What Luke saw left him gobsmacked.
"Hello, brother." Loki spoke, with a frown adorning his face.
Isaac Foster.
His missing half-brother.
Loki.
He looked so different. The once joy-filled eyes his brother used to have were now filled with a bright, sinister warning. And his skin…the skin the mask kept hidden was burned and scarred. It reached all the way from his entire upper-face to each of his ears.
"W-what happened to you?"
Isaac's eyes, still eerie, gained a tinge of hate to them.
"This was the last thing our father gave me before he disowned me." Isaac said the word father with such venom.
Luke's eyes widened. 'Impossible! Father was a kind and caring man. H-he would never do such a thing.'
Luke could only vehemently deny the idea.
Isaac noticed his struggle, and sneered.
"This is why I loathe you so. Even when the proof is right in front of you, you still deny its existence." Isaac shook his head, annoyed.
"Liar! You lie!" Luke screamed with rage and indignation, though a mist of uncertainty was clear in his eyes.
Isaac gave his brother a forlorn look then gazed at his mask, his protection, and a symbol of the society he hated.
"Even beauty can house evil within."
"B-but why!? Why would father do such a thing, you are family! We take care of our family!"
Isaac's eyes gained a shine of barely restrained rage.
"Not to him I wasn't." He spat.
"I was nothing but a disgrace to his name, his illegitimate son, the product of an affair between him and a common woman. I didn't look like him, I didn't sound like him,...-" Isaac took a long look at the illusionary mist on his fingertips. "-I didn't inherit his Constellation."
Isaac threw his hateful gaze towards Luke.
"But you…" he growled.
"You had everything. His love, his care, his approval, his looks, voice, even his Constellation! You had it all."
Isaac traced the scar on his face.
"And all I got from him, all for being born, was this mark!"
Isaac stopped and took a long and deep breath, calming himself as best he could.
"It doesn't matter anyway. I'll get what I want. You're merely the first."
He was eerily calm.
"First of wha-!?" Luke stopped, startled and in pain.
He began spasming and screaming, overcome with agony. All while Isaac stared impassively, unaffected by his half-brother's screams.
"With my Constellation I control your perception of everything." He accentuated the word everything.
"That includes your pain."
With what miniscule awareness he had left, Luke's heart began to beat in fear. Luke's torment continued, and, within a few minutes he stopped moving. After Isaac checked his pulse, breath, and heart, it was concluded.
Luke was dead.
His heart had stopped.
Without a second more, Isaac put the mask back on, turned around, and left.
Muttering something only heard by the resident sewer rats.
"So many strings to cut, so many debts to collect."