Kill the Numbers [Dark Data]

[Kuzuru]

Kuzuru blinked. His pupils constricted in response to the pearly white environment he found himself in. He sniffed the air. Absent was the heady scents of char and blood, replaced by a disappointing sterility. Now that he had some peace and quiet he became aware of a shrill ringing that buried itself in his eardrums, no doubt the side effects from being on the business end of several hundred decibels worth of explosions. Every inch of his body was plagued with some manner of bruise, burn, or laceration. Not that he necessarily minded, after all a battle wouldn’t be fun without the risk of death, but every fresh wound throbbed and stung and ached. Buzzkill, Kuzuru figured, this whole place was just one big cocktease. He scowled.

The darkchip-forged guitar hung low at his hip, the shoulder straps poorly adjusted for his height. He grabbed at the instrument’s neck and pulled it into a more comfortable position. The entire thing radiated a pleasant warmth, it was hard to say whether that was a residual feature of the Steppes or a more intrinsic property, but regardless it just felt right in his hands. His free hand thumbed at the tight strings, feeling the tension that kept them tuned. Closing his eyes he picked out a few chords, smiling as the discordant noise echoed outwards.

“You need to leave,” a familiar voice cut through the guitar’s cry, “now.”

Kuzuru opened his eyes and found that his surroundings had changed ever so slightly. He was no longer alone and there was now a pedestal with, quite literally, his name on it. Atop this ornate plinth sat a darkchip, seemingly made for the demon himself. The man with the long black hair was none other than Renji Kiyomasa. the original owner of Kuzuru’s current body.

“Hey there sugarfoot,” Kuzuru said, waved, and then added, “shouldn’t you be locked up?”

“I’m not looking to parlay with you demon, I’m here to make sure you make the right decision,” he answered.

“That so?”

Kuzuru’s crimson eyes flicked over to the darkchip. He licked his lips. His eyes dart back to Renji. The swordsman kept his hand resting on the sword at his hip, no doubt ready to draw it at the first sign of commotion. The demon stroked the body of his guitar and took a step towards the pedestal. In response Renji stepped between the two and drew his sword. The blade hummed, vibrating ever so slightly. Kuzuru held up his hands in surrender and chuckled.

“I’m just takin’ a look is all,” he said, “so slow your roll cowboy.”

“Leave,” Renji responded, nodding towards the open door.

Kuzuru groaned, “oh what’s the matter Renji-boy? You too good for me now that you’re a convict?”

“You can do what you will with my body,” he answered, “but, I’m not about to sit here and let you destroy every soul trapped in this blade.

“Ohoho, is that what those little darkchips have been doing?” Kuzuru clapped his hands together, “I just thought they would give me a hellish hangover or something, but this, this is interesting.”

“Leave.”

“Jeeze, when did you get so forceful Renji-boy? If you weren’t such a pain in my ass I’d be impressed,” Kuzuru said, “at any rate, I don’t think you’re in a position to stop me, in case you’ve missed the memo I’m kind of a bad ass motherfucker, and you’re a ghost trapped in my gut, one that’s about to get exorcised with that lovely D-chip there.”

“You moron,” Renji responded, “you draw your power from us, if we are erased you’re nothing.”

Kuzuru laughed and said, “au contraire babycakes, this is the Omniverse baby, and I’m a prime and in case you’ve forgotten I draw my power from omnilium now, so you noisy jackoffs give me nothing but a headache.”

Before the swordsman could react Kuzuru brought his hand down and slammed into a meaty lick of his guitar. The resulting cacophony slammed into Renji. In the resulting confusion Kuzuru stepped forward and grabbed the neck of his guitar with both hands. The demon held the axe over his shoulder and swung for the fences. To the demon there was no greater sound than the particular one made as his guitar smashed into the swordsman’s jaw. Renji was sent tumbling while Kuzuru reached for his prize. In one foul swoop the demon grabbed the darkchip and swallowed it.

For a moment nothing happened. Then, his veins began to boil and every square inch of his skin was ravaged by millions of invisible razor blades. He shuddered and stumbled around like a drunkard. Deep wracking coughs tore themselves free from his throat, bringing with them a deluge of blood. Every fiber of his body was trying to reject the foreign object, his own anatomy having more common sense than his consious mind. His eyes, now filled with ruptured blood vessels, turned towards a figure looming overhead. Renji Kiyomasa, unscathed by Kuzuru’s assault, stood with a wicked smile across his lips.

“You’ve made the right choice,” the doppleganger spoke.

Kuzuru laughed until his chortling devolved into a bloody mess of painful wheezing. He had been played like a damned card.

“Promise me,” Kuzuru choked out between fits.

Renji raised an eyebrow.

“Promise me, that” he began again, pausing to catch his breath, “that this is at least going to be one hell of a ride.”

Kuzuru uses a charge of the DISCORD darkchip 1 charge remains.
Kuzuru activates the mystery darkchip offered to him.