But if you are interested, I have written another story that passes on the same universe as this one.

Link’s here.

I’m glad you liked it.

I won’t promise anything, since this was my first time writing something in this fashion, but If I have a creativity rush I’ll write more. 😁

[2/2]

Nathalie was no longer in the crowded streets. She fell victim to The Violet Burner right in front of centuries of people, but none noticed her sudden disappearance. She was just another insignificant number amongst millions. Mere statistic on the flashy billboards.

When she came back to her senses Nathalie couldn’t hear the Caged Sparrow Club’s music anymore, nor the annoying, never-ending, electric buzz of the flying cars.

Only oppressive silence loomed wherever she was.

She was tied to a chair. Hands in cuffs. Eyes covered by some type of blindfold.

“Don’t even bother screaming.” A female, melodic voice broke the silence. “No one will hear you. But please, do try if you so wish.”

“I- Where am I? What’s happening?” Nathalie groaned, still confused because of the EMP blast from before.

The woman laughed. A sadistic, hauntingly beautiful and alluring sound.

“Well, you’re in Ican’ttellyoustreet, 12345. As for what’s happening, we’re about to start the tea party, darling!”

A sense of urgency and terror rushed through Nathalie, quickly clearing the fog in her mind. Her kidnapper got closer.

“I-It’s you! The V-Violet Burner!”

“Ugh. I hate this dumb name.” The Serial Killer said as she sat on Nathalie’s lap. “My real name is Elizabeth; Elizabeth Bathory. You may call me Liz for the remainder of your very short life. Pleased to meet you, cutie.”

Nathalie felt Elizabeth’s hand slithering through her body. It started on her tights, crawled through her abdomen, danced enticingly in between her breasts… until it finally reached her face, where it softly caressed her cheeks.

“W-What do you want from me? I’m just a nobody!”

“Quite on the contrary, dear. You’re very much a body. No wonder why men and women throw money at you as if there was no tomorrow in that flashy night club.” She teased. “I wonder if the quality of your Hyasynther matches the quality of your looks.”

Elizabeth’s hand slipped from Nathalie’s cheek and she could feel the predatory woman’s lips pressing onto the soft skin of her neck.

“W-what the hell?!” Nathalie tried to push the woman off her lap, seemingly forgetting about the handcuffs in her hands.

“Don’t you feel anything?” Overcomed by desperation Nathalie tried to guilt-trip the Serial Killer. “When you take people’s lives and break their wills, don’t you feel anything?!”

Elizabeth sat straight, still on her victim’s lap. She softly grasped Nathalie’s head in between her hands, slightly tilting it upwards.

“Do you know how many people died yesterday? How many people died last month?”

“W-What? Why the hell would I know this?”

“Exactly, thousands! Thousands of lost lives and I can count on one hand the number of people who knew their names. They are but mere numbers. Statistics on neon billboards. So tell me, darling, which one am I supposed to feel sad for? All of them? Just the ones I killed? Or, perhaps, just the ones I know the name?!”

Elizabeth closed the already short distance between her and her victim. So close she could now feel the woman’s metallic, warm breath.

“I- I…” Nathalie couldn’t focus, consequence of the sudden proximity.

“That’s why I do what I do. I give them a meaningful death, a memorable demise; those I kill are no longer numbers adorning the billboard of a neon skyscraper, no… they are fine works of art. They are eternal.”

Elizabeth pulled herself back, removing Nathalie’s blindfold.

And as both women locked eyes, the small, dark and empty room filled with bright lights. Lights so bright they could rival the fake, neon lights of Neon City - but, unlike the flashy billboards and skyscrapers, these lights did not give the feeling of plastic love, no. It was real.

Electric sparks exploded in a multitude of glowing lights. They danced around between the women’s chest. Serial Killer and Victim; Kidnapper and Kidnapped. Electricity flashed through their skin and in their eyes they could see answers to questions never asked. They could feel emotions long numbed by the bleak city and inside of eachother they found themselves.

Once again Elizabeth leaned into Nathalie’s neck, this time she let the woman bit her; she let herself be drank into the Serial Killer’s love. Neon, violet waves creating an everlasting link between the two of them.

Such link created their first work of art together. Their first memoir, eternalized in rhythmic echoes of flashing blood and sizzling electricity.

[1/2]

Rain fell from the looming sky in a relentless downpour, washing away the joy from the people who mindlessly moved from one place to another. Giant skyscrapers completely covered in neon billboards and flashy advertisements stretched seemingly forever into the night above; every screen carrying plastic feelings. The never-ending electric buzz from the flying vehicles hovering over the neon skyscrapers was almost deafened by the thunderous rain; almost, but not quite.

The city was far too bright; and not in an appealing way. Centuries ago, during the Old World’s Era - as it was called - the City was almost as equally bright, but it’s glow was organic, natural. It originated from the truest portray of love.
Whenever soulmates locked eyes with eachother, electric sparks and glowing lights would fly from one’s chest into the other’s - forming an eternal bond of pure, liquid joy. It was nothing like the fake, mechanical, never-ending, neon glow permeating the city nowadays. It numbed people’s senses, leaving them blind to love.

Ever since the advent of technology, implants were created and love destroyed. Soulmates were no more; not even fairy tales.

Nathalie walked down the familiar street like she always did every night on her way to work. The woman was decently augmented by chips and cyberwares, and with the aid of the filters on her eyes she could easily estimate how much time and how much steps it would take for her to arrive at the Caged Sparrow - the night club located on the city outskirts, where she worked as a stripper.

But instead of paying attention to the relentless rain or how long it would take for her to arrive at her destination, Nathalie directed her attention onto the endless neon billboards adorning the city’s skyscrapers. They were different these days. Most of them still displayed annoyingly bright advertisement but a few billboards warned the citizens of Neon City about a Serial Killer lurking on the outskirts of the city - courtesy of NCPD who paid no mind to it’s citizens safety and didn’t even bother trying to arrest the murderous bastard.

The Violet Burner

That’s how people were calling the psychopath. Not because they dressed in purple or something like that but because they seemed to kidnap people by using EMP blasts, frying their cyberwares and making them leak Hyasynther - a neon purple electronliquid that powered the chips, implants and cyber augments of people.

The victims were displayed all over the city as if they were works of art, each and every one of them completely drained of their Hyasynther. Most of them ended up dead, but there were a few who survived The Violet Burner - not because of luck, but because the sadistic psychopath let them - and those were the unluckiest of all. Their bodies may still be ‘living’ but they weren’t really alive, no. Their brains were all messed up and ended up fried by the lack of Hyasynther to power their cyberwares.

“Great! Another psycho in this god-forsaken city.” Nathalie sighed. “As if the megacorps and the totalitarian NCPD weren’t enough.”

She hastened her pace, paying no mind to the never-ending buzz of machinery at flight or the thunderous rain, even thought said rain turned her silky, lustrous hair into a wet clump of brown. With the curves she had she could be bald - she could have no head at all! - and she would still be the most desired girl in the Caged Sparrow Club.

Only the most perverted, depraved members of Neon City attended the club after all.

After a few more minutes walking into the glowing, rainy night, Nathalie could already hear the Club’s music. Her blood pulsing in the same rhythm. Until a lacerating pain flashed in her mind. Music quickly turned into incomprehensible noises and the street drowned in neon purple as Hyasynther leaked through her eyes.

Endless darkness and nothingness followed right after.

Thanks! 🫠😊

They trampled through death and grave; heralding pain and destruction.

“The Heroes of Light,” The Lich hissed “more like the Harbingers of Doom.”

The party made their way through the decaying corpses and lingering spirits of the recently slaughtered. Rapidly climbing the floors of the Lich’s tower.

The Paladin waved his mighty sword, slashing through his foes with intrepid hypocrisy.
The Cleric chanted their doom, weaving blessed spells of pain and sickness onto the helpless undead.
The Rogue, hiding in the shadows of the fallen, marauded their very souls; pride tainted his blade.
And the Wizard, who was not present. He went missing after the massacre of Phaleron; never to be seen again.

It did not take long for the three Heroes to climb the tower all the way to the top, where the Lich - the last line of defense - protected the remaining undead who have been lucky enough to escape the merciless invaders.

The wails of the hopeless, lost souls filled the room as the three burst into the room, bringing the barricaded doors down. The Lich stood in front of his last followers; back against the so-called Heroes.

“You have achieved quite the feat, haven’t you?” Spat the Lich, locking eyes with every last undead in the small room. “I suppose the three of you must be elated! Have you congratulated yourselves already?”

“Silence, fiend!” Roared the Paladin, preparing a smite. “Your reign of terror ends today.”

The Cleric started chanting her sickening, entangled fabric of holy spells. The Rogue, in response, hid from the light radiating from her staff; taking cover in the shadows cast by one of the many pillars scattered throughout the dark room.

“My reign of terror?” The Lich scoffed, still refusing to turn around and look the group of murderers in the eyes. “I’m not the one trampling through innocent lives, spitting on their ideals in the name of false promises of justice!”

“You know nothing about justice.” Cried the Cleric with melodic voice. Vanity permeating even the simplest of her actions. “You’re nothing but a monstrosity afraid of the light of redemption!”

“Perhaps. I’m not arrogant enough to claim complete knowledge over such complexity that is the matter of morality.” The Lich kneeled, trying to calm down the crying ghost of a child. “And if I’m a monstrosity because of my fear of your so-called light of redemption, then what is the Rogue, who scurries away from it.”

“I’m nothing like you!” Shouted the rogue with wounded pride, revealing his position. “This is called strategy!”

“You haven’t changed at all…” Said the Lich.

“ENOUGH!”

The Paladin howled, charging at the Lich with righteous fury. Only to come to a complete halt as the Lich turned around to face him. It was as if confusion and surprise had punched the Paladin in the face.

For in front of him was not the evil warlord he thought the Lich to be, but the kind Wizard he once called friend.

The Cleric broke her chanting.

“I- I don’t understand.” She said. “You disappeared after the Battle of Phaleron.”

The Rogue had stepped out of the shadows by now, showering in the light. Reflecting sins and prejudice all over the place.

“That was no battle, it was a bloody massacre!” Cried the Wizard. “You murdered every single person in that damned village, down to the last soul!”

“But they were the enemy!” Declared the Rogue. “They were evil.”

“They were no more evil than us. No more evil than any other person who fought for survival! For the gift of life.”

“How could you?” The Paladin asked in accusation. “How could you become a wicked, unholy Lich?”

“How couldn’t I? These souls were begging for you to stop the slaughter, but you paid them no mind! When their pleas were ignored, they turned to me; imploring for salvation. They did not want such suffering to continue. And neither did I.”

Silence loomed in the room as if it were a physical threat. The soft wails of the dead keeping it at bay.

“I used their souls as catalysts to amplify my powers, and with their help I did the only thing I could. I brought them all back from the dead. The brutally murdered couple; the child whose smile beamed with the shells of slaughtered dreams; the old man who had been stolen of a natural death… all of these tortured, lost souls.”

“I vowed to protect them. Together we built a city, away from the cruelties of human civilization. Far from their judging eyes - for judging eyes saw only the death that loomed on the surface, but never the pains and regrets that rested beneath.”

The Heroes of Light avoided the harsh gaze of the Wizard, shame tainted their act. The Lich continued, voice trembling in sorrow and regret.

“But despite all we have done to forget the past, all of our efforts; you still found an absurd excuse to justify your hypocrisy and murder.” Sorrow turning to anger. “And, for a second time, you came here to haunt these people, like the ghosts of doom you are!”

The Lich screamed the last words with desperate exasperation. Once again silence reigned supreme, only the huffing and puffing of the desolate undead could be heard.

After a few moments of oppressive silence had passed, The Heroes of Light took action once more.

The Paladin dropped his sword, taking a look into the last of the undeads hiding behind the Wizard - with fear stricken faces.
The Cleric wept under the weight of her sins, mouth shut; no longer chanting spells of agony.
The Rogue, no more in the shadows, felt the gaze of all upon him - for far too long he has been the judge, now he ought to be the judged. His skin crawled and he wished he could hide inside himself.

As for the Wizard, he has finally been found. But he has never been lost, in fact.

Are you okay? Please tell me this is just a prompt… you’re aren’t really dying, right?

This mf is trying to compete with Ichigo

Which one?

I need more!!!!