[!] [DISCLAIMER] [!]
I’ve left EVERY faction I was in prior, whether I was active or not (i'm still waiting for my tags to be removed.) The only two I remain in are Lore and Sports - for now, atleast. This is my promise to Hira, the respected lead, and to the rest of the dealers reading my application. If accepted, I will dedicate all of my free time to this position. - If any of my OOC information is lacking, a good portion of it was written during the evening - after I got off work. I hope the IC section makes up for it… :3 | Also, this application is close to 9.1k words. Enjoy.
OOC INFORMATION
IGN:I’ve left EVERY faction I was in prior, whether I was active or not (i'm still waiting for my tags to be removed.) The only two I remain in are Lore and Sports - for now, atleast. This is my promise to Hira, the respected lead, and to the rest of the dealers reading my application. If accepted, I will dedicate all of my free time to this position. - If any of my OOC information is lacking, a good portion of it was written during the evening - after I got off work. I hope the IC section makes up for it… :3 | Also, this application is close to 9.1k words. Enjoy.
OOC INFORMATION
loredevil (ALT)
phvntombride (MAIN - Not applying on this one because it holds a tag, but if you allow /character for this, then I’m all for it.)
crowseason (GOING INACTIVE)
Describe your activity on the server:
My honest daily activity fluctuates throughout the week. The weekends are primarily the least full, so I’m usually on whenever I’m free those days. However, during the middle of the week, I’m on later in the evening - during peak hours, I’d like to call it. This isn’t a guaranteed schedule, but it’s simple and it works.
I’m currently in a few factions - Professor, judge, and sports. While I don’t really maintain the two adult tags, and I’m commonly seen on my main - the captain tag, I still put enough time and effort into these factions. If I’m accepted into the BMD Faction, I will part ways with all but the sports faction. For now, atleast. I plan on making this faction a full time thing, and will prove my everlasting dedication.
LORE / FOOTBALL - phvntombride
I’ve been on the SRP Lore team for almost 7 months or so, joining towards the end of May. This account is typically what I’m seen on, this or my alternative. Nevertheless, being part of the lore team has impacted my experience on srp in more ways than one, as funny as it may seem. As well as my notorious green tag, I’m almost the captain for the Bobcat Male Football team - one that changed the way I play and enjoy SRP. This account is almost the one with all of my attributes, so I’ve been using it on GangRP for a while. I’m also a BMDA for Nylu, currently.
While on the topic of lore, I’m aiming to finish another crime document within the next few weeks.
When it comes to general activity though, excluding factions and my hours of playtime, I mostly run around and roleplay with either my friends, or just people I’m more familiar with. Even though I stay close to my limit and selection, I’m more interested in what I can come across during a roleplay. I’ve made multiple characters throughout my journey on SRP, ranging from young to old, so I’ve seen and done it all, really. To make my activity more simple and easy to understand, I put my availability down below in a chart.
MST Time zone, by the way.
| MONDAY | TUESDAY | WEDNESDAY | THURSDAY | FRIDAY | SATURDAY | SUNDAY |
| 6:30 PM to 1 AM | 6:30 PM to 1 AM | 9 AM to 1 AM | 6:30 P.M to 1 AM | 6:30 P.M to 1 AM | 9 AM to 1 AM | 6:30 P.M to 1 AM |
Specify your Discord username (USER#0000) and if you have a microphone:
atjayy | I have a microphone, though I’ll usually only use it when needed, as I’m rather shy.
Specify your country of origin and time zone:
United States of America | MST - Mountain Standard Time
What are your motivations in applying for the black market dealer role?:
I could rant about this endlessly and not get bored.
I started playing SRP back in 2021, and a month after my first appearance, I fell into GangRP. I wasn’t the best at it, being new of course, but as time went on, I started building a reputation for myself, leading me to where I am now. As basic as it may seem, I’ve been dying to get a shot of this prestigious spot once and for all - ever since early 2023. I’m looking for something I know I’ll stick out for months, years even, and I know this faction can house me the best. Even though I’ve gone and left many other factions, anything related to Crime is something I just can’t avoid no matter how hard I try. Eventually, as time goes on, I wish to take my current knowledge of CrimeRP, and expand it further and beyond than ever.
Every member of the BMD faction is either a good friend of mine, or someone I’m on great terms with. Taking that into consideration, I’d like to be alongside them when tackling projects or changing the way CrimeRP is viewed. Of course, with great power comes great responsibility, so I’m willing to put all of my energy into fixing things for myself.
What helps you to stand out from other applicants & what can you uniquely provide to the team?:
Before I delve into, again, another endless rant, I’d like to mention how, despite how many factions I ‘ve been part of, I don’t want to paint a picture for those who read this - especially the ones who give their opinions.
Most of my time spent on SRP was built on working in a team, and leading, so I’d like to believe that’s partially my take on teamwork. Of course, for other reasons, there’s much more that I’ve done than those too. For the first few years of my time on SRP, I was a part of multiple gangs - either leading them or resting in a higher up role, as most people deem me trustworthy of such a position. If brought onto the team, not only can I help with updating the current lore (if that’s needed, of course), but I can help new players get an understanding of the server, the rules built on CrimeRP, and overall change the way the server views roleplay.
But before all of that, I’d love to mention how long I’ve been in this category of SRP. Even though I’m not the most popular, at least in terms of reputation, I’ve had a clean record for as long as I can remember - and of course I plan on keeping it that way. I’d like to think this proves how dedicated I am to keeping a clean slate. With all that pushed aside, though, I’m aiming to be someone anyone on the server can look up to - new or old.
With a few of the topics I’ve already brought up, I can help bring more ideas to the Crime plate and write for the faction, rather than it all being the same as time goes on. There’s a few suggestions I can help implement, and a few rules I’d like to change around to make it fair for the rest of the community. If accepted into the faction, I can provide great roleplay and activity, as I’m known for both of those. As bad as it may seem, I’m willing to add more time to my schedule to log on to roleplay with others.
What previous experience do you have in working with a team?:
Where do I start?
LORE TEAM
- I’ve been a part of the lore team for nearly 7 months now, joining back in May of 2023. I started my journey terrified and beyond worried on how some would criticize me. Though, after I got used to the whole ‘green tag’, it wasn’t so bad. Writing lore for a roleplay server, especially a Minecraft one, isn’t something I pictured myself doing until I got in. I’ve learned how to communicate and share my ideas openly, and bring new ideas to the table as well - and of course, publish those ideas for the public eye. Out of nearly every faction I’ve been apart of, the Lore team isn’t something I can see myself leaving.
EMS
- EMS has been a faction I’ve had an on and off relationship with, joining and leaving a handful of times for personal reasons. The first time I’ve ever joined was over 11 months ago, and it was the first ever faction (besides sports) that I was welcomed to. I had no idea how to roleplay with other faction members, especially those in the emergency, but after a while I picked it up. Throughout my reigning months, I made new friends (most of them I still speak to) and shared my experience at grinding out quotas alongside those friends. While I’m no longer a part of the faction, I still see it as another family. I guess I’ve just outgrown it, you know?
OTHER FACTIONS (excl. Sports & Crime)
- For the most part, the two factions above are really the only factions I’ve spent countless hours in - at least physically, daily. I’m not sure if you can count Lore as one of those. However, I have my fair share of a few other factions, mostly relating to Town Workers (an example being both Judge and Reporter), another group I tend to stick to. I’ve learned how to write, how to roleplay, and do new things I never thought I could. Most of these factions are from a while back, judge being my latest, so it’s been a while since I’ve done something else.
- Oh, where did the years go? I’d like to believe that 85% of my time on SRP is spent either CrimeRPing, or the complete opposite - sports! There have been multiple occasions where I was put in charge, whether that be as a captain or co-captain, and I’ve picked up a few things here and there. I'm currently the captain for a big team, so I’d like to think that grants me a huge advantage. It’s safe to say that the sports faction has a place in my heart, right beside EMS and Crime.
BMDA & GANGS
- I’ve been one of Nylu’s trusted associates for the last 5-6 months or so, and it’s honestly been nothing more than I expected it to be. At times, when I’m needed, I’ll help with planning events, do openings, and overall provide help as an associate - whether that be Nylu’s or another BMD for example. On the lines of that, I’ve also led multiple gangs - both big and small, and have been a major higher up for the biggest ones (my most recent being Mefisuto’s shi****mi). Alongside the rest of the gang, I work towards creating a better experience for all of the players involved, and stick it out for a while. I’m big on that.
OOCly
- Like any average person around my age, I’m a working adult. Some jobs are more difficult than others, but they’ve all taught me how to complete a task with and without the help of my peers.
There’s much I’ve wanted to write, and especially considering how I haven’t seen many suggestions directed towards the fairness of every player within the community, I figure now is the time to do so.
I haven’t personally experienced this, though I’ve had many of my friends witness it first hand, and that has got to be the KPS rule with detaining weapon crates / stealing them during openings. It’s an unlisted rule that applies to everyone, and when the perms get passed, it creates a bunch of confusion for those impacted. While there’s a rule that states that players can’t resell BMD purchased items without giving permissions, I feel as if other rules that fit that criteria should be included - to keep confusion at a minimum. This suggestion was something I wrote about in my last BMD application, but due to the nature of that, it was never implemented or really talked about (unless it recently became a thing).
- In relation to the suggested idea, all new rules brought to the server should always be updated - anything unspoken, or a rule that you have to ‘find out on your own’ or through staff, should be announced immediately to avoid confusion.
On the topic of rules, I figured it’d be best to talk about the use of unfair keybinds. I’ve seen many people complain about this, as have I, so I wanted to talk about it. As someone who uses keybinds a lot of the time, mostly during roleplays (ex: /feed, /crawl) I find those entirely okay. But using a keybind to grab someone and spam an action to kock them out (and rolling against it), instead of risking the chance of police showing up by taking an extra 30 seconds to a minute to action, isn’t fair to those who want to be competitive within the field.
Again, using a keybind to /eat or anything silly is fine, but I’d really like to see a change surrounding other roleplays.
Another thing I’d like to see change, if even possible, is make it more competitive. Before you hesitate, and even question if that’s something we need, I believe it is. GangRP as a whole is something I’ve enjoyed, but other than mugging and using perms - with the occasional gang wars / events, there isn’t much to it. This is a major reason why I’d like to see more competition, whether that be claiming turfs again (because I know that used to be a thing before the plugin was implemented), or having an event to see how many weapons a gang can collect - make it interactive.
Of course this can, and most likely will, create underlying issues that will need staff supervision, which is why it should be something planned out beforehand.
As an old higher up for Mefisuto/Valhalla (and a gang leader), I was tired of seeing alliances being made. I had to fear losing my gang to two popular and crowded gangs, all because they made an alliance to go against us because we majored their leader. If adjusted properly, I feel like alliances could be removed from GangRP as a whole, or with special permissions and guidance from the faction lead, can be set for a period of time. Hogging all of the good gangs for yourself just lowers the fun of GangRP as a whole.
My final suggestion would have to be something to do for new players, or just those curious about GangRP. As BMD, gang leaders, and the faction lead, there should be a new guide implemented to help anyone interested out. I’ve seen the lack of CrimeRP recently, and I’d like to believe that it’s partially due to the fact that some players don’t quite understand how it works. Take it as you will, but I’d love to see this become a thing.
Are you familiar with all rules pertaining to weapon profiles, combat, permissions, and player conduct on the server?:
As always. I’ve been familiar with them for years, actually.
Are you familiar with that if you leave the black market at any point, the black market lead will have permanent kill permissions on your character?:
Yeah, of course. It’d be fun.
Are you familiar with that if your character(s) is/are killed or permanently arrested twice, you will ebe removed from the black market?:
I don’t recall the last time I’ve ever let this happen, but I’ll take it into consideration.
Are you familiar with that you cannot reveal any out-of-character plans or potential addition to the black market to others?:
Yes! It’s similar to most factions, really.
Pierre Ykenz
Criminal Alias:
‘KRANKHEIT’
Age & Occupation:
27. Whatever he did before suddenly appearing out of nowhere is unidentified. Some say he was a musician.
Gender & Marital Status:
Yknez was born a male, though at times, can be mistaken for the opposite gender. As of now, he’s single.
Ethnicity & Race:
A white man of German / Belgian descent.
Known Languages:
German
Austrian
Japanese
Former Associations/Occupations:
The.. Streets..?
Highest Level of Education:
If asked, though, he claimed to have majored in the finest of arts.
Physical/Mental Ailments:
Pierre has comorbidity.
What’s that?
- Comorbidity, or simply just comorbid, is the presence of multiple conditions often co-curring with one another - whether that be mental or physical. In Pierre’s case, he is a child of ASPD and IED combined into one.
ASPD, often familiarized as sociopathy, is a mental health condition in which a person consistently shows little to no regards for their actions - whether it be right or wrong. More often than not, they’re known for manipulating and digging at one’s personal interest, no matter what sort of consequence they suffer. To them, remorse is an option that they fail to show.
Ykenz was born with ASPD, though he never contracted it fully until his early teens, when his father became more and more of a jerk. A lot of the time, Pierre is seen to show no recollection of his actions - though, most of the time he tends to ignore it or skip the topic. Being ‘mentally ill’ is his excuse at not finding true love, though again, that’s how he sees himself. He can, and will, lash out on others to simply get a reaction.
–
Intermittent Explosive Disorder - IED
While it is often known to be ‘similar’ to Borderline Personality Disorder, BPD, the two are different in multiple ways. IED involves repetitive, sudden episodes of explosive anger and aggression, both of which are highly common when it comes to Pierre.
As a child he was only born with ASPD, aforementioned above, but with his living conditions, he was exposed to a more serious case of ASPD - later developing IED as his way to cope with his actions. Now, present day, he believes IED is the karma he gets for how he acted as a kid. Then again, was it really his fault?
–
,pƎIℲISS∀˥Ɔ, - ¿¿¿ -
He dreamt of a witch his entire life. Could he possibly have underlying issues?
–
His heart beats funny - twice as fast, dangerously rapid.
Known Family Members:
Another mystery of Pierre would have to do with his family, and where he originates. Though he doesn’t talk much about it, and will typically brush it off as another boring conversation, there’s more in depth detail about his family then you’d believe.
Jules Ykenz; the father.
To simply put it, Jules is a piece of work.
Throughout Pierre’s childhood, Jules was in and out of his life. Being the successor of Pierre’s grandfather, Jule’s often forced his son into doing what he hated - creating music. Whenever Pierre struggled to perform for his father, Jules would often strike him for his behavior and ignorance, which led to Pierre despising him. Now that he’s a grown adult, Pierre doesn’t see his father as a parent, but more so an instructor - a corrupt one, at that.
Jules is no longer alive, or so they think. He might be out there.
The Ykenz Patriarch; long term family
The Ykenz family is a high ranking order based in Brussels, Belgium. Stretching from musicians, to business owners, the Ykenz title is one known amongst the country - the continent, nearly.
Pierre is a disappointment to them; a failure of the orchestra, he couldn’t follow up his father’s wishes, and that’s why he no longer chooses to disclose any more information on them. After his most recent incident revolved around Jules Ykenz, the current ‘ruler’ of the title, he cut all ties and vanished from existence. Pierre Ykenz who?
Describe your character's appearance to the greatest detail:
( i dont have art of him yet :( )
Pierre Ykenz, the rich boy, sprouted at a smaller height of 5’7” with indistinguishable features to his frame. With a smaller body, a lighter toned voice, and long hair, some would have mistaken him for a lady. Though, before all of that, he was quite the charm to look at. His jawline was sharp, his eyes were an icey blue which were shielded behind a messy bird's nest. - and with darker skin, it was definitely some of his best features. Without a doubt, Ykenz stood out from the rest of the crowd.
Pierre wasn’t much of a body builder, and if anything, he lacked the most common features of ‘a man his age’, or whatever his father often ranted about. To add on to his beauty, he had three dots tattooed beneath his left eye - a tradition followed within the Ykenz family, especially for the men who’d take over the patriarch. He treated it like both a blessing and a curse, often covering it for his sake. Now, though, he wears it with pride. How ironic is that? There’s a few other things that made him unique, most likely something to do with his abnormally long fingers.
On the topic of his eyes, you can’t help but notice the thousand yard stare in them - as if his life were drained from his body, and he had nothing but a frame left. Other than the needless grin he wore at times, he almost looked unreal. It was trippy.
Describe your character's personality to the greatest detail:
There isn’t quite a way to describe Pierre. If anything, you’d believe he lacks one.
Being born with ASPD, though later developing it through layered trauma, he’d often be described as borderline psychopathic; honestly, it wasn’t far off. Pierre lacked remorse, showed little to no empathy for the pain he inflicted upon others, and he supported any dirty deeds he acted on. Ykenz often takes after his fathers actions, and with how mentally abusive he was, he uses that to slip right past any late victim. It’s something he dreads, but the thought of being fair to another life is something he couldn’t possibly see himself doing. Someday, though, he hopes of being cured and possibly living a ‘picture perfect’ life. | One would refer to him as a snake. Even then, all reptiles have a heart somewhere.
- But what exactly is ASPD, and why does it affect Pierre? - ASPD, as I mentioned above, is a mental health condition in which the carrier lacks empathy, often shows violence or aggressiveness, and commits crime. While it’s primarily known to be caused by poor genetics, the environment is what sets it off. In this case, Pierre is a victim of that. Due to the tremendous amounts of anger built up from his father’s wrongdoing, this caused Ykenz to develop early.
Though, behind every serial killer is a sad kid healing from past trauma. How far could Pierre get from here?
Describe your character's backstory to the greatest detail:
Welcome to the worst day of your life, starring the one and only, Pierre Ykenz.
Describe an interaction that your character may have as a black market dealer: ‘Do you ever dream of another life?’
It was a question Pierre thought to himself often. Why was he so desperate for something else, something other than his current living conditions? Where did it all go wrong, one might ask?
–
Pierre Ykenz was born on August 19th, 1996, to two ‘loving’ parents, Jules and Abigael Ykenz - he was an only child too. His exact birth location is unknown, but it was a small city in Belgium. Life for the Ykenz family was easy; being wealthy on such a poor side of town got them places, and they abused the hell out of it. They often stole from the poor, sharing their goods with the rest of the patriarch. It was their little fucked up version of Robin Hood. No, the Ykenz family were not great humans, and that’s what was so beautiful about them.
For the majority of his early ages, Pierre hung out with the rich folks at school. His parents hired specialized butlers, and child assistance to aid at his command. To him, this was royalty. To the rest of the world? He was a piece of shit. That isn’t what the boy wanted, though, unfortunately. Even in his sick and twisted mind, he wanted to be a good kid someday.
On an eventful Friday night, smack center in the middle of the winter, Jules approached the boy in his room. Pierre was busy with coloring. He was talented, for sure.
“Do you think you’re ready?” Jules questioned the seven year old. He slouched at an angle, using his wooden cane as support.
“Ready for what, papa?”
“To learn the finest of arts! The musician’s blood that flows within you tells me otherwise. How about we begin another lesson?” Pierre’s father was strict about these so-called lessons, and it ruined their family legacy. Atleast, that’s what Pierre was told.
At first the boy was skeptical. He wasn’t up for the pain his father gave him for playing awful, but what’s the worst that could happen?
Off the two went down to the ballroom where they were greeted by other children and their parents, quite a familiar scenario for them. The boy sauntered off towards an available grand piano, where he sat across from the girl he gossiped about. She was the head of their class, the popular girl, and everyone wanted to befriend her. That, or belittle her name behind closed doors.
The conductor, a middle aged man with a balding scalp, took the lead of their class; most lessons were run by him.
“Dance your fingers along each key; use the tabs you’ve written to perform. Do not disappoint us!” The man said. And away with that, the kids played. Each to their own, they all seemed to understand what they were working with; all but Pierre, the one left out. His fingers weren’t fast enough, and no matter how hard he played, he could never get the right rhythm. Oh dear, Jules was angry.
“PIERRE!” The father called out, running over to the boy and grabbing him by the hair. His voice died out into a whisper so the other kids around wouldn’t suspect it. “Are you stupid? You are disappointing me, the ruler of the family you’re lucky to be a part of. Do not fail me, or I’ll send you up to the balcony.” This was another way of threatening him. There was no balcony, only an empty room with a piano and a poorly lit candle.
“I’m.. I’m sorry..! Please, papa, don’t be upset. I- I can play bett-” Pierre cried out, only to be interrupted by the raging man.
“Silence, you brat. You spoke back to me, so it's off to your room for now.” Jules demanded, before he rose from the ground to address the rest of the class. “Carry on! My boy here needs a breather.”
Pierre left for his room, where he sat and cried out in a sorrowful song.
Jules wasn’t a good man. Abigael tried to leave him, but with every attempt, Jules only threatened her more. They were trapped.
–
A day later, at the charting school, Pierre was picked on by his peers. The worst of it all, though, was the girl he wanted to impress; the head of their class. She booed him, they all did. Pierre was the class clown that even the teacher didn’t want to deal with. After his day of school, Pierre ran home to play with his friend in his backyard - an imaginary one. He called her the witch, and she made her first appearance on a blood moon. Was she a ghost?
During his playtime, he got dirty and rolled around in the grass, or even climbed trees. Whatever it was, his father disapproved. Too much playtime, not enough music. That’s all that matter - that fucking music. God, to get rid of that man. - Pierre played with bugs, with snakes, he wasn’t an ordinary boy. And, at times, he’d kill those bugs with his hands. It brought him enough happiness.
His brain was set on making his father happy, while his heart told him otherwise.
His heart ached. Those damn valves.
It was a question Pierre thought to himself often. Why was he so desperate for something else, something other than his current living conditions? Where did it all go wrong, one might ask?
–
Pierre Ykenz was born on August 19th, 1996, to two ‘loving’ parents, Jules and Abigael Ykenz - he was an only child too. His exact birth location is unknown, but it was a small city in Belgium. Life for the Ykenz family was easy; being wealthy on such a poor side of town got them places, and they abused the hell out of it. They often stole from the poor, sharing their goods with the rest of the patriarch. It was their little fucked up version of Robin Hood. No, the Ykenz family were not great humans, and that’s what was so beautiful about them.
For the majority of his early ages, Pierre hung out with the rich folks at school. His parents hired specialized butlers, and child assistance to aid at his command. To him, this was royalty. To the rest of the world? He was a piece of shit. That isn’t what the boy wanted, though, unfortunately. Even in his sick and twisted mind, he wanted to be a good kid someday.
On an eventful Friday night, smack center in the middle of the winter, Jules approached the boy in his room. Pierre was busy with coloring. He was talented, for sure.
“Do you think you’re ready?” Jules questioned the seven year old. He slouched at an angle, using his wooden cane as support.
“Ready for what, papa?”
“To learn the finest of arts! The musician’s blood that flows within you tells me otherwise. How about we begin another lesson?” Pierre’s father was strict about these so-called lessons, and it ruined their family legacy. Atleast, that’s what Pierre was told.
At first the boy was skeptical. He wasn’t up for the pain his father gave him for playing awful, but what’s the worst that could happen?
Off the two went down to the ballroom where they were greeted by other children and their parents, quite a familiar scenario for them. The boy sauntered off towards an available grand piano, where he sat across from the girl he gossiped about. She was the head of their class, the popular girl, and everyone wanted to befriend her. That, or belittle her name behind closed doors.
The conductor, a middle aged man with a balding scalp, took the lead of their class; most lessons were run by him.
“Dance your fingers along each key; use the tabs you’ve written to perform. Do not disappoint us!” The man said. And away with that, the kids played. Each to their own, they all seemed to understand what they were working with; all but Pierre, the one left out. His fingers weren’t fast enough, and no matter how hard he played, he could never get the right rhythm. Oh dear, Jules was angry.
“PIERRE!” The father called out, running over to the boy and grabbing him by the hair. His voice died out into a whisper so the other kids around wouldn’t suspect it. “Are you stupid? You are disappointing me, the ruler of the family you’re lucky to be a part of. Do not fail me, or I’ll send you up to the balcony.” This was another way of threatening him. There was no balcony, only an empty room with a piano and a poorly lit candle.
“I’m.. I’m sorry..! Please, papa, don’t be upset. I- I can play bett-” Pierre cried out, only to be interrupted by the raging man.
“Silence, you brat. You spoke back to me, so it's off to your room for now.” Jules demanded, before he rose from the ground to address the rest of the class. “Carry on! My boy here needs a breather.”
Pierre left for his room, where he sat and cried out in a sorrowful song.
Jules wasn’t a good man. Abigael tried to leave him, but with every attempt, Jules only threatened her more. They were trapped.
–
A day later, at the charting school, Pierre was picked on by his peers. The worst of it all, though, was the girl he wanted to impress; the head of their class. She booed him, they all did. Pierre was the class clown that even the teacher didn’t want to deal with. After his day of school, Pierre ran home to play with his friend in his backyard - an imaginary one. He called her the witch, and she made her first appearance on a blood moon. Was she a ghost?
During his playtime, he got dirty and rolled around in the grass, or even climbed trees. Whatever it was, his father disapproved. Too much playtime, not enough music. That’s all that matter - that fucking music. God, to get rid of that man. - Pierre played with bugs, with snakes, he wasn’t an ordinary boy. And, at times, he’d kill those bugs with his hands. It brought him enough happiness.
His brain was set on making his father happy, while his heart told him otherwise.
His heart ached. Those damn valves.
‘To.. Dream? No, I don’t dream. Only if she’s there with me, is when I want to.’
A few years later, Pierre is attending high school at the ripe age of 14. Here, he continues his journey on perfecting his music. He still sucked. But, hey, at least he tried.
The boy was diagnosed with IED and ASPD, something his father carried the genes to. He tried to keep it from the kids at school, because if they knew what was wrong with him, that’d be the end of his life. No one could possibly stand that level of harassment, so he shut up about himself whenever asked.
His music was better, only slightly. He can play wonderfully, better than anyone in his family, but it wasn’t enough to please Jules. In fact, his lack of performance caused Pierre to stay awake at night, either fixing his tabs or finding his way around the broken keys. There wasn’t anything he could do. His grades were sinking, and along with that, all of his friends were disappearing. They were either forced to unfriend him, or simply vanished without a trace.
All but her, the witch.
She visited him in his dreams. The witch was unrecognizable, she had no face, but her skin was as pale as the flower dress she wore. With every step she ever took, flowers rooted from beneath her feet. For the fourteen years of his life, she spoke to him. But still, he dreams of her.
“Is Jules acting up again?” She says. The witch had such a beautiful voice, so pretty that you’d mistaken her for a siren if you never knew her. A white hand was held out to Pierre, who was seen balled up in the grass.
“He’s.. Still mean to me. My father hurts mom. She left, so soon, already. I miss her.” Pierre somberly spoke between a tearful gaze. He looked up and took the ghastly hand. Together they rose and broke out into a dance. It was peaceful, and so, so lovely.
“Jules wants the best for you, even if it means hurting you.”
“No, all he cares about is he stupid music. I hate it.” Pierre argued with the witch, to which there was no prevail. Her free hand cupped the side of his face.
He was awake, yet again. The moon was bright, almost entirely blue, it felt. His body was paralyzed from the neck down, and all he could move was his head. It hurt. In the corner of the room, he saw the witch. Was she real?
“You’re such a silly boy, Pierre. Don’t let the old man bother you so much. Practice the hand movement I showed you, and play that song I taught you. Only then, will he realize.” The witch said.
And like that, before he had a chance to react, the witch was gone. Pierre fell back asleep, and awoke a rested boy in the morning.
It was school time. As the minutes grew, his heart turned and ached. The medicine he was prescribed to help combat against the murmurs were empty, as were the rest of his medication. Pierre was growing paranoid and angry. Only a week left, and he’d be okay. Let’s hope for great things, my boy.
Upon arriving at school, Pierre noticed that his locker was damaged. It was bashed in, trashed around, and spray painted. For a moment, he could’ve sworn the letters sprayed onto his locker spelled out ‘witch’. No, it was ‘bitch’, actually. The kids all around him laughed and threw papers at him, they bullied him for his appearance. Pierre was the shortest one in the whole school, at least when it came to the men, so he was easily targeted.
Until he had enough.
There was a bully Pierre often dealt with. He never got his name, so Ykenz nicknamed the devil. Ironic, and yet so brilliant. On that same day, the devil approached Pierre to question him about his locker, only to reveal that it was himself who did it, and not anyone else. The devil mocked Pierre, over and over, and called him names.
“Hey there, papa’s bitch. Did you enjoy my gift?” The hyena screamed out.
Pierre had enough of his shit.
“Fuck you.” Ykenz said, as he pulled out a sharpened pencil from his pocket. The kid bolted at him, grabbing him by the collar and throwing him on the ground. Between broken laughs, and some sobs, Pierre stabbed the pencil into his gut, then used his hands to strangle him.
He was arrested and bailed out immediately, Jules paid off his criminal record; talk about corruption. Pierre was expelled from that school. The kid, however, made a full recovery - with years of trauma in front of him. I guess Karma’s a bitch, huh?
Jules was far more strict and angrier than ever. He got violent and physical with Ykenz, now resulting in physical violence.
Pierre’s body ached from his mistakes.
A few years later, Pierre is attending high school at the ripe age of 14. Here, he continues his journey on perfecting his music. He still sucked. But, hey, at least he tried.
The boy was diagnosed with IED and ASPD, something his father carried the genes to. He tried to keep it from the kids at school, because if they knew what was wrong with him, that’d be the end of his life. No one could possibly stand that level of harassment, so he shut up about himself whenever asked.
His music was better, only slightly. He can play wonderfully, better than anyone in his family, but it wasn’t enough to please Jules. In fact, his lack of performance caused Pierre to stay awake at night, either fixing his tabs or finding his way around the broken keys. There wasn’t anything he could do. His grades were sinking, and along with that, all of his friends were disappearing. They were either forced to unfriend him, or simply vanished without a trace.
All but her, the witch.
She visited him in his dreams. The witch was unrecognizable, she had no face, but her skin was as pale as the flower dress she wore. With every step she ever took, flowers rooted from beneath her feet. For the fourteen years of his life, she spoke to him. But still, he dreams of her.
“Is Jules acting up again?” She says. The witch had such a beautiful voice, so pretty that you’d mistaken her for a siren if you never knew her. A white hand was held out to Pierre, who was seen balled up in the grass.
“He’s.. Still mean to me. My father hurts mom. She left, so soon, already. I miss her.” Pierre somberly spoke between a tearful gaze. He looked up and took the ghastly hand. Together they rose and broke out into a dance. It was peaceful, and so, so lovely.
“Jules wants the best for you, even if it means hurting you.”
“No, all he cares about is he stupid music. I hate it.” Pierre argued with the witch, to which there was no prevail. Her free hand cupped the side of his face.
He was awake, yet again. The moon was bright, almost entirely blue, it felt. His body was paralyzed from the neck down, and all he could move was his head. It hurt. In the corner of the room, he saw the witch. Was she real?
“You’re such a silly boy, Pierre. Don’t let the old man bother you so much. Practice the hand movement I showed you, and play that song I taught you. Only then, will he realize.” The witch said.
And like that, before he had a chance to react, the witch was gone. Pierre fell back asleep, and awoke a rested boy in the morning.
It was school time. As the minutes grew, his heart turned and ached. The medicine he was prescribed to help combat against the murmurs were empty, as were the rest of his medication. Pierre was growing paranoid and angry. Only a week left, and he’d be okay. Let’s hope for great things, my boy.
Upon arriving at school, Pierre noticed that his locker was damaged. It was bashed in, trashed around, and spray painted. For a moment, he could’ve sworn the letters sprayed onto his locker spelled out ‘witch’. No, it was ‘bitch’, actually. The kids all around him laughed and threw papers at him, they bullied him for his appearance. Pierre was the shortest one in the whole school, at least when it came to the men, so he was easily targeted.
Until he had enough.
There was a bully Pierre often dealt with. He never got his name, so Ykenz nicknamed the devil. Ironic, and yet so brilliant. On that same day, the devil approached Pierre to question him about his locker, only to reveal that it was himself who did it, and not anyone else. The devil mocked Pierre, over and over, and called him names.
“Hey there, papa’s bitch. Did you enjoy my gift?” The hyena screamed out.
Pierre had enough of his shit.
“Fuck you.” Ykenz said, as he pulled out a sharpened pencil from his pocket. The kid bolted at him, grabbing him by the collar and throwing him on the ground. Between broken laughs, and some sobs, Pierre stabbed the pencil into his gut, then used his hands to strangle him.
He was arrested and bailed out immediately, Jules paid off his criminal record; talk about corruption. Pierre was expelled from that school. The kid, however, made a full recovery - with years of trauma in front of him. I guess Karma’s a bitch, huh?
Jules was far more strict and angrier than ever. He got violent and physical with Ykenz, now resulting in physical violence.
Pierre’s body ached from his mistakes.
‘Dream of me, Pierre.’
Half a year passed since the incident, and no schools in the area wanted Pierre to join. The whole city had heard of his behavior, so stores and restaurants banned him from entering. This brought a sour name to the Ykenz patriarch, and Jules was furious. No more games, only violence now.
Pierre started losing himself again, over and over. His life was on repeat - wake up, play music, get punished, sleep. It was miserable, and it only got worse as he got older. The older he was, the worse his father got. Day and night, every minute of his waking days, Ykenz fell into a deeper depression. It was sad, though, the witch returned often throughout his dreams. With every appearance, she warned Pierre of his mistakes, and oftentimes brought him great wisdom.
Nothing was ever the same for him.
Jules sent Pierre off to therapy, maybe then he’ll be fixed. The hour-long sessions never worked, and eventually, he had to change the******s often. By often, it was usually every two or three months. Word had gone around of his actions, and soon, most refused to take appointments for him. Pierre really was the worst kid ever.
Pierre’s newest coping mechanism was drinking, and he knew the people for that. On the outskirts of the city lie the ‘bad people’ of the world. Here, they broke any and all rules, and smoked and drank until their liver failed. They heard of what Ykenz did, and who he is, which is why they accepted him immediately. He was granted the nickname ‘KRANKHEIT’, which means the abused. It was a fancy name for a fancy boy, they thought.
They treated Pierre like royalty. His clothes were changed around, and he stopped coming home. Ykenz belonged to the streets, and he made it his new home.
Weeks pass, and Jules is out searching for Pierre. His only son, only kid even, is missing. Who will take over the family, he thought? Missing posters went up and were stapled to light posts, but were immediately torn down by bystanders. No one cared enough to look for him. Jules only wanted him back so he could make money off of him. Such a shitty parent, but it was every man for themselves now.
Krankheit made a name for himself in the streets. He was known as the pencil boy, the one who stabbed his victim to (almost) death. Every scumbag on the outskirts of the city knew him as their god, and so he formed a gang under the name ‘The Streets’. As corny as it sounded, it was something to take his mind off of his father.
Oh, and speaking of, Jules found him eventually.
But before they could even track his exact location, he fled. But from what? He wasn’t a criminal, at least convicted anymore. Was it because Jules was angry, and Pierre knew what he’d go through if he went back? That’s gotta be it.
With every new location he went, the grumpier he got. Pierre had to fight off swarms of people asking him questions; usually anyone who wanted the pay for returning him back to Jules. It was unfair, and entirely bullshit to him. Why couldn’t they understand that Jules was the bad guy? They treated the 15 year old with less respect than he would ever.
But it’s karma, right?
Pierre’s an idiot, and because of that, he never thought he’d get caught. He took every risk, every reward that was given to him, so when he saw a train leaving the country, he took that opportunity to climb aboard. At dawn, the train took off towards The Netherlands.
He made a new friend, too. Another homeless man by the name Rookie slipped onto the train overnight - says he was leaving the country to escape the police. Apparently he killed a man in cold blood, plain sight, so he panicked and took the only escape he knew. The two of them were best friends, despite their huge age gap. Super close buddies.
–
Fast forward a few days, and back to back pitstops, and the train reached the border between Belgium and The Netherlands. Pierre, being the pesky little shit he was, decided to hop out and explore - what an idiot that boy was. Border control ended up catching him and rang Jules, who acted all loving and sad over the phone. Pierre knew it was crap. He feared what was about to come. Jules sent a small army, or atleast what Pierre called his stupid butlers, to his location. If only he didn’t hop out, right?
Rookie was also caught and arrested. Pierre prayed for him that night.
Pierre spent the entire drive home in silence. His ipod had terrible music, and it was running out of battery. With every sign he passed, his stomach churned. Once he finally got home, Jules laid into him.
Hands were thrown, and hands were broken.
Pierre spent the next week in his room, alone, holding back his trembling right hand.
Half a year passed since the incident, and no schools in the area wanted Pierre to join. The whole city had heard of his behavior, so stores and restaurants banned him from entering. This brought a sour name to the Ykenz patriarch, and Jules was furious. No more games, only violence now.
Pierre started losing himself again, over and over. His life was on repeat - wake up, play music, get punished, sleep. It was miserable, and it only got worse as he got older. The older he was, the worse his father got. Day and night, every minute of his waking days, Ykenz fell into a deeper depression. It was sad, though, the witch returned often throughout his dreams. With every appearance, she warned Pierre of his mistakes, and oftentimes brought him great wisdom.
Nothing was ever the same for him.
Jules sent Pierre off to therapy, maybe then he’ll be fixed. The hour-long sessions never worked, and eventually, he had to change the******s often. By often, it was usually every two or three months. Word had gone around of his actions, and soon, most refused to take appointments for him. Pierre really was the worst kid ever.
Pierre’s newest coping mechanism was drinking, and he knew the people for that. On the outskirts of the city lie the ‘bad people’ of the world. Here, they broke any and all rules, and smoked and drank until their liver failed. They heard of what Ykenz did, and who he is, which is why they accepted him immediately. He was granted the nickname ‘KRANKHEIT’, which means the abused. It was a fancy name for a fancy boy, they thought.
They treated Pierre like royalty. His clothes were changed around, and he stopped coming home. Ykenz belonged to the streets, and he made it his new home.
Weeks pass, and Jules is out searching for Pierre. His only son, only kid even, is missing. Who will take over the family, he thought? Missing posters went up and were stapled to light posts, but were immediately torn down by bystanders. No one cared enough to look for him. Jules only wanted him back so he could make money off of him. Such a shitty parent, but it was every man for themselves now.
Krankheit made a name for himself in the streets. He was known as the pencil boy, the one who stabbed his victim to (almost) death. Every scumbag on the outskirts of the city knew him as their god, and so he formed a gang under the name ‘The Streets’. As corny as it sounded, it was something to take his mind off of his father.
Oh, and speaking of, Jules found him eventually.
But before they could even track his exact location, he fled. But from what? He wasn’t a criminal, at least convicted anymore. Was it because Jules was angry, and Pierre knew what he’d go through if he went back? That’s gotta be it.
With every new location he went, the grumpier he got. Pierre had to fight off swarms of people asking him questions; usually anyone who wanted the pay for returning him back to Jules. It was unfair, and entirely bullshit to him. Why couldn’t they understand that Jules was the bad guy? They treated the 15 year old with less respect than he would ever.
But it’s karma, right?
Pierre’s an idiot, and because of that, he never thought he’d get caught. He took every risk, every reward that was given to him, so when he saw a train leaving the country, he took that opportunity to climb aboard. At dawn, the train took off towards The Netherlands.
He made a new friend, too. Another homeless man by the name Rookie slipped onto the train overnight - says he was leaving the country to escape the police. Apparently he killed a man in cold blood, plain sight, so he panicked and took the only escape he knew. The two of them were best friends, despite their huge age gap. Super close buddies.
–
Fast forward a few days, and back to back pitstops, and the train reached the border between Belgium and The Netherlands. Pierre, being the pesky little shit he was, decided to hop out and explore - what an idiot that boy was. Border control ended up catching him and rang Jules, who acted all loving and sad over the phone. Pierre knew it was crap. He feared what was about to come. Jules sent a small army, or atleast what Pierre called his stupid butlers, to his location. If only he didn’t hop out, right?
Rookie was also caught and arrested. Pierre prayed for him that night.
Pierre spent the entire drive home in silence. His ipod had terrible music, and it was running out of battery. With every sign he passed, his stomach churned. Once he finally got home, Jules laid into him.
Hands were thrown, and hands were broken.
Pierre spent the next week in his room, alone, holding back his trembling right hand.
‘No, I don’t think I want to.’
The day before his 16th birthday, Pierre had one last dream of the witch. She was playing the same song for him; as always, a saddening lullaby. Each note was different from the last dream, so to him, it felt brand new each time.
“You’ve grown up, Pierre.” The witch said, between broken piano notes. She applauded him, truly. “It’s time we part ways.”
Pierre didn’t like that. The witch was the only thing that understood him, and to have her leave him just like that? No, he wasn’t buying it. He shook his head once, side to side. The lullaby the witch was playing sped up in pace, double the hands, double the keys. Pierre felt himself gravitate to the keys, where he unconsciously played them piece by piece - absolutely beautiful.
Moments before he woke up, and saw her for the last time, she grabbed his face between her soft hands.
“Pierre, my dear, it’s time to let me go. I’m only a dream, an imaginary friend at that. We all know you need to let me go.” The witch’s face was revealed. She had almost haunting features; a sunken face, skinny at that, and she didn’t look alive. But, Pierre found her beautiful. That’s all that mattered, right?
“No.. You are the only one who.. Cared about me..” Pierre called out. His eyes were leaking tears and his nose was running. He wasn’t ready to say goodbye, just yet atleast.
“You’ll be okay. Practice what you know, and show them how you play. You’re my star boy.” She said, before entirely vanishing.
Pierre awoken. The clock read 1:32 in the morning.
1:33..
1:34..
The boy found himself staring at the clock for minutes on end, processing the departure of his best friend - and only friend, at that. His heart ached, it shattered into a hundred pieces. He lost himself yet again. It’s so stupid.- Finally, after an hour of lying awake in his bed, Pierre fell asleep. There were no dreams, no witch, nothing. It was a miserable night of sleep. And so, it repeated again, and again. This? Really?
Every day and night after that was pure agony. He got no rest, and when he did, he had nightmares or dreamless rest. The world he studied so much of, that he created to get away from Jules, was gone - forever wiped, like it never existed. He cried every night, and every morning, praying that she’d return.
She never would.
Time flies when you’re having fun, or if you’re depressed.
–
Wake up, Pierre.
Another new day for him, the now 21 year old. He sprouted in height, slightly, and was now attending college. His studies never meant anything to him, since it was a terrible subject to learn. Pierre continued to play music against his will, and often failed at it - Jules punished him. He is so miserable. Not a day goes by where he doesn’t miss the witch. Ykenz writes to her, sleeping with the letter in hopes she returns. There’s nothing to dream about, just an empty void every time he’s out.
Tomorrow’s his big day. He plays infront of the conductor, the man he trusts with his life. Jules will be there, though. Time to disappoint.
Early in the morning, he started. His fingers danced so elegantly across the keys, one by one, he played to his heart’s content. There was always that one key he played poorly, and with each mistake he made, Jules was more upset. All of that work for nothing?
He failed again. AND AGAIN. A fucking failure.
Jules gave him hell after the performance. No one clapped for the kid, all they did was whisper and watch as he walked off stage. Another failed Ykenz.
And with that, his brain decided to go against his father’s wishes. Only to wait until his last performance, and to finish college, that is.
The day before his 16th birthday, Pierre had one last dream of the witch. She was playing the same song for him; as always, a saddening lullaby. Each note was different from the last dream, so to him, it felt brand new each time.
“You’ve grown up, Pierre.” The witch said, between broken piano notes. She applauded him, truly. “It’s time we part ways.”
Pierre didn’t like that. The witch was the only thing that understood him, and to have her leave him just like that? No, he wasn’t buying it. He shook his head once, side to side. The lullaby the witch was playing sped up in pace, double the hands, double the keys. Pierre felt himself gravitate to the keys, where he unconsciously played them piece by piece - absolutely beautiful.
Moments before he woke up, and saw her for the last time, she grabbed his face between her soft hands.
“Pierre, my dear, it’s time to let me go. I’m only a dream, an imaginary friend at that. We all know you need to let me go.” The witch’s face was revealed. She had almost haunting features; a sunken face, skinny at that, and she didn’t look alive. But, Pierre found her beautiful. That’s all that mattered, right?
“No.. You are the only one who.. Cared about me..” Pierre called out. His eyes were leaking tears and his nose was running. He wasn’t ready to say goodbye, just yet atleast.
“You’ll be okay. Practice what you know, and show them how you play. You’re my star boy.” She said, before entirely vanishing.
Pierre awoken. The clock read 1:32 in the morning.
1:33..
1:34..
The boy found himself staring at the clock for minutes on end, processing the departure of his best friend - and only friend, at that. His heart ached, it shattered into a hundred pieces. He lost himself yet again. It’s so stupid.- Finally, after an hour of lying awake in his bed, Pierre fell asleep. There were no dreams, no witch, nothing. It was a miserable night of sleep. And so, it repeated again, and again. This? Really?
Every day and night after that was pure agony. He got no rest, and when he did, he had nightmares or dreamless rest. The world he studied so much of, that he created to get away from Jules, was gone - forever wiped, like it never existed. He cried every night, and every morning, praying that she’d return.
She never would.
Time flies when you’re having fun, or if you’re depressed.
–
Wake up, Pierre.
Another new day for him, the now 21 year old. He sprouted in height, slightly, and was now attending college. His studies never meant anything to him, since it was a terrible subject to learn. Pierre continued to play music against his will, and often failed at it - Jules punished him. He is so miserable. Not a day goes by where he doesn’t miss the witch. Ykenz writes to her, sleeping with the letter in hopes she returns. There’s nothing to dream about, just an empty void every time he’s out.
Tomorrow’s his big day. He plays infront of the conductor, the man he trusts with his life. Jules will be there, though. Time to disappoint.
Early in the morning, he started. His fingers danced so elegantly across the keys, one by one, he played to his heart’s content. There was always that one key he played poorly, and with each mistake he made, Jules was more upset. All of that work for nothing?
He failed again. AND AGAIN. A fucking failure.
Jules gave him hell after the performance. No one clapped for the kid, all they did was whisper and watch as he walked off stage. Another failed Ykenz.
And with that, his brain decided to go against his father’s wishes. Only to wait until his last performance, and to finish college, that is.
‘This is for what you did to me. Fuck you, Jules.’
His 27th birthday was around the corner. The last few years of his life were a blur. He smoked and drank them away, partying at every chance he had.
Pierre had finally realized his worth. It’s crazy, really, what happens when you don’t try. After a few long years of perfection, he majored in CLASSIFIED. It’s kept crossed out for his safety, like the rest of his identity.
Jules and Pierre don’t talk much anymore. They still live together, and share the same household, but they’re no longer on speaking terms - not now, not until the finale. Pierre’s finale. There was one more song he had to play, the song he wrote for his dad. The song that’d tear it all apart once completed.
“This, this is the biggest ‘fuck you’ history.”
And so it happened, again. Pierre prepared his tabs and his mentality before he stepped out onto the stage. The quiet audience watched as he bowed, only once, then took a seat. Something about the dead silence disturbed him. Whatever. He looked for Jules in the crow. Bingo!
Pierre Ykenz, the failed musician, began playing.
Oh, how beautiful it sounded. The melody he played, the one he spent years perfecting, it was all for the witch - a song against his father’s wishes. Other preset instruments played in the background, which added on to the song he played. Like he stated before, this was the biggest fuck you ever. Every bit of the song was played to exact perfection; you should’ve seen that look on Jules’ face when he heard it. Out of this fucking world! Pierre made eye contact with his father, all while singing the song out to him. He knew what he was doing.
Meanwhile, his mind was at war with itself. He had enough of the music. All the kid wanted was to be free from this family, to destroy the Ykenz family title. What could he do?
The performance ended with a solo. Something so perfect, yet so destructed, all conducted with just his fingers. Afterwards, he rose from his stool, bowed, and left.
–
It was so quick . . Happened too fast. One moment, his father was praising him, but afterwards he got physical. He called him a disappointment, and blamed him for stalling for so long.
Pierre had enough.
He withdrew a blade from his pocket, jamming it right into Jules’ gut. Now, he had to leave. His job was done.
There was a location he heard of in Japan; a city so beautiful, yet destructive. Was it time to flee, yet again? After Jules suddenly went missing, the Ykenz family was investigated for ties with multiple gangs throughout the world - the mafia, Japan’s Yakuza, everything.
It was time to leave.
So that’s what set his heart ablaze. His destined future.
Die Krankheit ist reborn.
His 27th birthday was around the corner. The last few years of his life were a blur. He smoked and drank them away, partying at every chance he had.
Pierre had finally realized his worth. It’s crazy, really, what happens when you don’t try. After a few long years of perfection, he majored in CLASSIFIED. It’s kept crossed out for his safety, like the rest of his identity.
Jules and Pierre don’t talk much anymore. They still live together, and share the same household, but they’re no longer on speaking terms - not now, not until the finale. Pierre’s finale. There was one more song he had to play, the song he wrote for his dad. The song that’d tear it all apart once completed.
“This, this is the biggest ‘fuck you’ history.”
And so it happened, again. Pierre prepared his tabs and his mentality before he stepped out onto the stage. The quiet audience watched as he bowed, only once, then took a seat. Something about the dead silence disturbed him. Whatever. He looked for Jules in the crow. Bingo!
Pierre Ykenz, the failed musician, began playing.
Oh, how beautiful it sounded. The melody he played, the one he spent years perfecting, it was all for the witch - a song against his father’s wishes. Other preset instruments played in the background, which added on to the song he played. Like he stated before, this was the biggest fuck you ever. Every bit of the song was played to exact perfection; you should’ve seen that look on Jules’ face when he heard it. Out of this fucking world! Pierre made eye contact with his father, all while singing the song out to him. He knew what he was doing.
Meanwhile, his mind was at war with itself. He had enough of the music. All the kid wanted was to be free from this family, to destroy the Ykenz family title. What could he do?
The performance ended with a solo. Something so perfect, yet so destructed, all conducted with just his fingers. Afterwards, he rose from his stool, bowed, and left.
–
It was so quick . . Happened too fast. One moment, his father was praising him, but afterwards he got physical. He called him a disappointment, and blamed him for stalling for so long.
Pierre had enough.
He withdrew a blade from his pocket, jamming it right into Jules’ gut. Now, he had to leave. His job was done.
There was a location he heard of in Japan; a city so beautiful, yet destructive. Was it time to flee, yet again? After Jules suddenly went missing, the Ykenz family was investigated for ties with multiple gangs throughout the world - the mafia, Japan’s Yakuza, everything.
It was time to leave.
So that’s what set his heart ablaze. His destined future.
Die Krankheit ist reborn.
CHAPTER ???: THE BLOOD WITCH
A solemn night, as cold as it could get. Fresh footprints were scattered about in the snow that covered the sandy beaches, and a full moon was just over the horizon. Krankheit was in for a long, drastic night.
He sat, wielding a metal bat in his left hand and a phone in his right - his face was shielded by a clown mask, brand new at that. The phone clenched in his hand rang three times, before a ghastly voice presented itself. It sent chills down Krankheit’s spine.
“Hello.” For a dramatic reaction, the figure on the other end paused before speaking. “We found your number off the web. I won’t disclose any more information on that, but we request two metal bats to be brought to your preferred location.”
“You’re lucky. I’m not open now, but I’ll accept you this one time. Meet me in the graveyard, behind the church. Our code word is ‘abused’, got it?” Krankheit, or well Pierre, said before placing them on hold. He wasn’t looking for a friend, so he never spoke much over the phone. After finding the crate location, located in the water of the powerplant sewers, he set off.
Though, taking the sewers from his current location was a mistake of his.
Midway through his journey over to the shipments, Krankheit felt an everlasting gaze at the back of his head. It set warning alarms off in his head, but he was clumsy; did he believe that he wasn’t alone? There’s no way he was being followed - not here, not now. At the end of it all, though, Pierre shrugged it off as his conscience trying to convince him either wise. He pressed on, crawling his way through the flooded sewers. To be out of there already, was all he could want right now.
At last, he reached the location of his early shipment. The rusty hooks and pipes that lined the sewer walls added up with the distant ambience of flowing water, and to Krankheit, it felt at home. To him, the sewers were his best friend. He knew every inch of it like the back of his palm, which is why he felt the urge to leave when he saw a valve turned off. It was never like that, right? No, he’s just paranoid.
Nevermind that, he set off towards the next location. Along the way, he stumbled across another unfamiliar sight; words etched into a wall he passed by often.
‘X..T 9.. 7’
“Oh, how they ruin my home, those pesky shits.” Krankheit said as he continued on through the sewers. His location was up at the next turn, so he readied a knife in his right coat pocket, and a phone in his left - for safe measures. Upon arriving, expecting two people, Pierre came across a single man - a tall one, some might have mistaken him for a statue.
“Abused.” The buyer called out from behind a plain ballistic mask.
“Drop the cash, n’ I’ll give you what you want. Don’t waste my time.” Pierre instigated unwillingly. It was a poor habit of his. He really needs to stop.
The masked figure approached him, and as he got closer, so did his height and build. Holy shit, he’s tall, Krankheit thought to himself. The seller, Krankheit, dropped off the bag in front of the man and dug through his coat. His right hand clutched the same knife, and a grin grew behind that mask of his. It wasn’t a sell, you fool, he wanted to rob the man of all his worth. A challenge, sure, but there’s profit to be made.
“Send the witch my regards.”
Suddenly, everything went black - an empty void surrounded Pierre, all six walls of reality. The bag was gone, the man had vanished, and everything was off.
“What.. The fuck?” Pierre’s voice shattered immediately. He looked around in a panic, looking for whatever happened, and where the man went, only to turn up empty handed. Krankheit took a single, steady step back. It echoed throughout the walls of this make belief world he was in, and as he continued on, so did the overwhelming feeling of guilt. He wanted to run for it, to escape this nightmare, but he just couldn’t. What was going on?
It didn’t feel real. Was it another dream of his? All he was trying to do was sell a few weapons.
That same eerie feeling from before began creeping up on him. Eyes peered down on him from above, but there wasn’t anything in the room with him.
“Oh, you’re so cute down there!” A voice shouted from .. Everywhere. It hit Pierre at every angle, below him, above him; it was like he was in the belly of the beast. Maybe he was. Still, he looked around for them. Nothing. The voice was so, so familiar.
Pierre grew paranoid, checking over his shoulder with every step he took. His left foot was sore, broken perhaps, so there was nowhere left to run. All he could do was push forward, even if it meant getting himself hurt. And so that’s what he did. As the walls around him closed in, as did the ceiling above him, he cried out for help. The lunatic was alone and scared, for once. Was this what he deserved?
Suddenly, the corridor he stood in, or atleast what he made it out to be, extended in size. At the end of the tunnel, lit up by a dull light, was an empty room with a bed, chair, and a three legged desk. It reminded him of home, so immediately he took off towards it, dragging behind a limp foot. Though, however, it didn’t matter much he ran - the tunnel never ended. The room was only a tease, and whatever sick mind game Pierre was dragged into was messing with his head.
There it was again, that fucking voice.
“They hate you! They mock you for your failures, and there is NOTHING you can do about it. Look at you, look at the way you run away from your problems.” It was a mix of a thousand different voices, but there was still one in particular that he couldn’t label.
“SHUT UP! WHERE THE F-FUCK AM I?” Pierre struck back in retaliation. Then it hit him.
It was the witch. The one he dreamt of all this time.
–
As a boy, Pierre often had dreams about a faceless woman. She visited him in his dreams to help combat against the shit his father did to him, and he wished he knew about her, rather than some unnamed lady. Together, in this dream state, they told jokes, laughed at the stories she told, and it brought him a state of composure. Every dream, she visited him in a white dress - it touched the ground, and with every walk she took, pedals bloomed beneath her feet. It was the same dress his grandmother wore.
After he went against his father’s wishes of becoming a musician, roughly around the age of 15, he stopped seeing her. Now she’s bad, for whatever reason that was.
Krankheit nicknamed her the witch. The blood witch. It felt more like a curse, than it did a blessing. The first time they met, it happened to be on a full moon - a blood moon, at that. Ironic, isn’t it? A fancy name, for such a fancy event.
–
Was this another dream? It felt like reality to him. Everything felt slow for once. His breathing was steady, his feet were in a trance; it was like he was on a reality rip, or whatever the scientific term was. Despite what just happened, Krankheit felt.. Peaceful. His heart ached, though. That damn cardiomyopathy.
Though, the witch continued to mock him.
“They hate youuuuu! Look at the way you fail to do the simplest of tasks!”
It was his father, and then his mother, then whoever else disciplined him at that age. Over, and over, and over.. And fucking over. All they did was mock him.
Once more, from before, his life flashed before his eyes. Every bleeding moment, every moment of genuine anger; all of it came crumbling down on him again. And again. It was a fucking cycle.
Next thing he knew, he passed out.
–
There he was again, sat upon the edge of a dock - clown mask covering his only noticeable feature.
“My fucking head hurts.” Pierre said, as he pulled the phone up to his ear. He greeted the buyer on the other line.
“Hello.” The voice was familiar. Like the one from before, the one who led Pierre into its trap. “We found your number off the web. I won’t disclose any more information on that, but we request two metal bats to be brought to your preferred location.” Didn’t it sound familiar? Pierre looked up in the sky; a red light shined down upon the frozen ocean - did I fail to mention the blood moon?
And so the process repeated.
Maybe that’s why it was called the crimson night.
Describe any other additional information that is notable in considering your character for the role of a black market dealer:
Last edited:
