Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ To Those About To Die ❯ Chapter Two- Graduation ( Chapter 2 )

Chapter Two -- Graduation

So much has happened these past years. From a gangly twelve-year-old with unmemorable features I have grown into a tall young man of seventeen, unmistakable in any crowd. Broad across the chest, narrow through the hips, long face framed by longer hair of a color not frequently seen in nature -- I was invisible no more.

World events had taken an upward spiral, escalating in violent intensity. Within Rosenkreuz, rumors flew about a secret rite, something coming that would ensure our place as master of the new world. Well, master in the sense that the landlord's dog handler was called master of hounds, anyway. No one was quite sure when it would be, or even whether it were already past, but we all knew it would somehow change our lives forever.

This was going to be bad.

Student factions grew, changed, and cliques became more cutthroat than they had ever been before. I mourned the loss of my friend Karl; bare months after his fire-haired consort had left with his team, Karl lay dead at the hands of his own leader-trainee. Students had begun brazenly picking their own teams by elimination, and Karl was too gentle for that one's liking. Alone, I faced the growing chaos that was Rosenkreuz.

Violence, ever present just beneath the surface like a quiescent volcano, broke through the cracks and erupted where the structure was weakest. Some students took to keeping firearms and other weapons on them at all times. I was one of them. I am no clairvoyant, I have never had a hint of that gift, but something was on the wind, and it frightened me. Change was coming, and it rode a pale horse.

Days and dates are not freely known within the confines of the Bloody Cross, but I know it was April. "April is the cruellest month..." I don't know who wrote that, but I had seen it scrawled on a desk once. If I could read objects I would know, but I now prefer to imagine that the notorious Brad Crawford had written it there, once upon a time, when he was but a student and dreams of a red-haired telepath called The Guilty One were still years away.

It was April when our world ended.

I had been picked for a team, and had only briefly met the other three. We would begin team orientation and training in a few months: the pyrokinetic with wild spiky hair, the brooding telepath, and the...handsome...telekinetic who would be our leader. I had never felt so odd around anyone in my life, but this man, Toni... It was as if my heart couldn't remember its rhythm.

Toni and a number of other leader-types had been sent on special missions. I remember thinking it was very odd, that so many would be off-premises on the same day.

It was early afternoon. The instructor was to lecture on current events and political structures relevant to those about to go into team training. When he paused in his rambling speech, I felt my skin crawl. Something was very wrong.

The instructor resumed his speaking, pacing casually to the door. He dropped a hand to the lock and turned it. His back was to us.

I hit him with everything I had even as he turned around and leveled the assault rifle at the class.

Screams.

Gunfire.

The shattering of glass.

Distant combat echoed throughout the facility, matched by the chaos in my classroom. The instructor, mind struggling against mine, fired blindly for a few moments before I landed on top of him and broke his neck. I took the rifle and covered myself with its threat as I assessed the situation. Five dead, seven more wounded, all cowering or simply stunned and immobile. One young man looked back at me, coherent in spite of the shock.

"Do you have your weapon?"

He shook his head. I tossed the assault rifle to him and drew my own gun. I knew he would not attack me. This was something...premeditated. The instructors were purging the facility. But why?

We organized the students in our room and tried to evaluate the conditions without. The students in this class were of all talents, and I planned to use that to our full advantage. I set the telepaths to searching for other pockets of resistance. The one healer I forced to see to the injured; he was rapidly shutting himself down and did not want to cooperate. A gun to the temple works wonders on such men.

"Those with guns, come with me. The rest of you, lock this door. If they come, try the window." And we went out. Though I was not in leader training, I was, as I have said, observant. And a keen student of psychology. I could lead better than any in that class, so I did.

We hunted down those who would have slain us. Along the way we incorporated all able-bodied students capable of rebellion and found safe places for the weak to hide. Some wanted to execute the cowardly, but I reminded them that even the craven have their uses.

If nothing else, they could draw fire.

Within the hour it was done. Nearly all instructors lay dead, some by their own hand. I do not know if my "father" was among them, nor do I care. I had done what he wanted me to do.

I had become a wolf.