REVISED: 7/23/2016

Chapter 3-Carnage

Ganta walked quietly throughout the halls of his new school, his head bent to stare at the ground.

He knew he'd probably bump into someone unless he took to looking forward, but he dismissed the idea immediately-everyone who crossed his path instantly parted away from him anyway. Regardless, he hadn't been happy about attending school again, even if it was completely necessary-there were too many bad memories.

It appeared the other children were not a problem to him anymore-let alone any potential friendships. He wouldn't have to worry about getting close to someone again, simply because everyone was absolutely terrified of him. It didn't matter who it was, children of all ages and even the staff all cowered in his presence, waiting for him to loose his temper and murder each and every one of them just as he had his other school.

Or so they thought.

Not that it mattered either, every time he made eye contact they ran away faster than he could open his mouth. But whatever, it wasn't as if they'd believe him. Taking the time to listen to him was yet another hopeless pipe-dream.

Perhaps it was actually better this way. If everyone believed he was the murderous child they branded him as the day of the accident, he wouldn't have the chance to lose someone close to him again-no one would even bother getting that close in the first place.

As he sat down at his seat for his first period class the other students reluctantly filed in after him, each moving extremely slow and careful to choose seats the furthest away from him. They filed in one by one and then the poor saps in last were doomed to take the seats at either side of him.

At long last, the four students who had unfortunately come in last stood nervously by the walls, desperately scanning each row for a desk they had missed-to no avail.

Of course, there wasn't any available seats aside from those nearest him-there never was. As soon as they realized that, they all began to shift nervously, small beads of sweat already building up on their skin as they slowly approached and took their seats in front, back, and to either side of him.

Everyone was tense-even the teacher-and everyone was staring at him indirectly, most with a horrified terror in their eyes as they hoped today would not be the day he would snap.

It was days like this he really wished he could just stand and shout at them like he so wished to, but he knew that that would not help anything. In fact, it would most likely make them even more tense and afraid of him than ever.

Everything was backwards from Deadman Wonderland's ways. Back in the prison, a cocky outburst would have earned him respect and praise-like it did originally as he flipped off the audience during the dog races. Here, it would only induce panic and fear-coming from a Deadman.

He didn't want that, as much as it bothered him to be different and shunned, he didn't want people to have more reason to fear him. It was bad enough as it is. Already almost everyone had plans to transfer schools as soon as possible. Those who didn't were doomed to spend the school year with him.

They were so stupid; did they really think they would be safe at a different school? Little did they know, he wasn't the only Deadman alive. They were literally everywhere, and not nearly as lenient with their Branch of Sin as Ganta was. Hell, some probably didn't even know they were Deadman yet.

He knew most Deadman were not so patient or forgiving as he was. He knew some were Hell bent on getting revenge on the outsiders that locked them up in the first place. He knew some were more than willing to give normal people a little taste of what a Branch of Sin could really do.

Even he had troubles containing his own Branch of Sin sometimes-it was like it was fueling on their fear, trying to escape his body to unleash its power on any who was nearby. An anxious entity waiting to emerge.

Resisting the urge was hard, but it was endlessly more difficult to keep himself from bleeding. He had already cut himself with paper a few times while shuffling them around, and even with such a shallow cut, his blood flowed unceasingly.

Whenever that happened, everyone would stop what they were doing-no matter what it happened to be-and stare with horror at his cut, watching as the blood swirled in the air. Fearful, widened eyes trained on the very substance they feared, as if watching it would keep it at bay. Dead silence ensued as they trembled, waiting for him to resume control and end them where they stood or call the blood away into his body.

Normal humans were so stupid, so naive, and so easily frightened. Had he been this cowardly before? He thought so. Despite this, normal people still have troubles accepting anything different-harmless or not.

Perhaps they would all benefit from a trip to Deadman Wonderland after all…Just wait until they witnessed the undying horrors he had, maybe then they wouldn't be so afraid of him in contrast.

He scowled as he remembered Nagi's psychotic rampage. He remembered the torturous games he was forced to participate in. He remembered Rukuro's maniac assault as he betrayed Scar Chain. And, the most scarring, he remembered watching as his childhood friend revealed herself to be the cold-hearted killer-clutching his dear friend Azami's head in her bloodied hands.

He shuddered; the memories were painful and still stung even now. But why? Why should he care? Shiro murdered his classmates and friends, so why did it still hurt as he remembered the betrayal?

He shouldn't care. He shouldn't care at all. That thing was not his friend; it was nothing but a demon.

A demon with his friend's body.

'Shiro-I love you.'

Had he really said that? Was it really only a few months before he'd uttered those words as they held each other tightly-victorious after Madoka's defeat?

'I...Love you too, Ganta.'

Senji prowled the streets of Japan, his bare chest exposed to the chilling wind as his signature dark duster billowed out behind him. He took a deep breath, and paused a moment to glance up at the stars with longing.

This was one thing he missed about the outside, the fresh, crisp night air of a dark night.

But he wasn't out here to enjoy the outside this night. He had a much less virtuous goal this night. Deadman Wonderland or not, he was still the cold hearted fighter he had been before. Before Deadman Wonderland, he had served in the police force. Granted, it seemed like it was virtuous then, taking out local criminals left and right, his Branch of Sin free at his command.

But that was just a facade, all he had to do was smile a bit at passing news reporters and beat up a few bad guys. In reality, however, he did it for the thrill of the fight, to momentarily sate his raging blood lust.

Ever since he could remember he had always been itching for a fight, and had always lived by his principle of 'survival of the fittest'. Fighting was, in many ways, his addiction. When he landed himself in Deadman Wonderland, it had been the best thing that had ever happened to him.

And now that he was out, he had to find some sort of outlet for his blood lust, and the back alleys of Japan were just the place to start. Besides, it certainly wasn't helping anything that all his constant job failures had pushed his blood lust to it's breaking point either.

As he walked, he thought he heard it-the faint, but growing sound of multiple pounding footsteps. Momentarily he paused, and sure enough, the footsteps were followed by the sounds of gunshots ringing through the night.

Even as his feet carried him swiftly through the urine reeking alleys, he couldn't help but let his grin spread across his face. The sounds grew closer; the rush already filling him, pressing him past his limits and pushing him faster and farther.

As they neared he willed himself to stop, using the shadows to his advantage as he disappeared within them, waiting for the right moment to strike. His thumbs already grazing the skin on his forearms as his Branch of Sin prepared to be unleashed.

They grew nearer and Senji realized they were chasing someone. The sharp sounds of heels crashing against the pavement in tandem with harsh, desperate panting was heard and Senji realized they were casing a woman.

More thuds, and the men chasing her fired their guns again as the woman stumbled and fell forward with a screech of pain, clutching her injured leg.

Senji cursed at the woman's foolishness. Didn't she know how dangerous it was roaming the streets at night? Regardless, the men were almost upon her. It appeared to be at least six of them, all big and bulky and wielding weapons that varied from a crowbar to a pistol.

In a split second, Senji was upon them, his Branch of Sin responding to his every intention as it grew to full length, easily blocking the men from the woman as it covered the distance of the alleyway.

The men halted and let out a yelp of surprise as they were met with the glistening blade of Senji's deadly Crow Claw, each taking their weapons and banging against it futility. The bullets ricocheted harmlessly against the blood red surface, and as multiple curses resounded and they clutched at the wounds they foolishly inflicted upon themselves, Senji couldn't help but chuckle.

At the sound, they formed a circle, each of their head's spinning rapidly as they searched for their attacker. Now, as Senji appeared from the shadow's that cloaked him, the blade retracted and once again entered his body, leaving nothing but a faint red line across his forearm. The residual blood hovering in the air in long tendrils, just awaiting it's next command to take Senji's desired form.

He grinned, and the men cowered, their prowess long forgotten.

"Well, well...What do we have here?" Senji greeted, the menacing grin never leaving his face as his eyes glinted at the all the possibilities this fight offered.

At once they exploded, suddenly their weapons remembered as they scrambled for them. But once again, their fear hindered them as their shots missed their target under their shaking hands and they clumsily fumbled for the steel bars they had dropped.

In a flash Senji's blood blades sprang forth from his arms once again; leaping deftly out of their fire and slashing out at one of them. Before the man could scream he was sliced in two, and his newly sliced body fell to the floor, blood pooling around him in spurts.

As the others looked on in horror, he rushed them, uppercutting one into two with a swift movement and hacking another's head clean off. The remaining were quickly ended with a flick of the Invisible Black. He almost wished at least one Deadman had been among them-at least then it would have been somewhat of an exercise.

Senji's laugh rang in the quiet night, but as he scanned the area for more prey his laughter quickly faded as he realized the game was over. He had won.

As his blades retracted he sighed, his eyes scanning over the damages. He had torn them apart as easily as paper, and while it had been fun while it lasted-it was over. Boredom once again took him. He wasn't even tired.

Where was the challenge? Where was the chase? Where was the thrill?

A soft rustle alerted him and in a flash his Branch of Sin was once again unleashed, expanding to it's full length as it came to rest under the chin of the lone survivor, who trembled with resounding fear.

As Senji approached he smiled again, hoping this one would prove to be challenging, but it was quickly diminished as he realized this wasn't a thug-it was the woman.

With a moment of hesitation and a disappointed grunt, his Branch of Sin retracted once again, and Senji let out a breath as he analyzed the woman. For a moment he wondered if he was so bloodthirsty to end her as well, but tossed the thought aside. The media be damned, not all Deadman would stoop to kill innocents.

Senji Kyomasa wasn't a person that murdered innocents. Only those that deserved death and committed sins-gangsters and wanted criminals. Not victims, not helpless women. He sighed, and the girl flinched and continued to tremble, her entire body shaking as she groped the floor for something to use against him.

Subconsciously, his eyebrow raised. This woman, even stricken with fear, still felt the need to at least attempt to defend herself at the hands of Senji? A vicious Deadman who easily and ruthlessly took out six thugs? He took a moment to admire her sense of survival and her bravery-no matter how foolish it may have been.

He chuckled and a smirk overcame him, briefly thinking of that twerp Ganta who similarly fought against all odds. Despite all the trouble the kid caused Senji since his arrival in Wonderland-softening him up most importantly-he still admired the kid's guts.

"Don't come any closer!" She threatened, and though her voice trembled, it did hold some force behind it.

Senji sighed, his arms held up as if in surrender. "Christ, lady. Look, I'm not going to hurt you, so just calm the fuck down," he urged. The woman's eyes narrowed and her eyes flicked around him to the sliced bodies of her attackers.

"Yeah, right." She muttered, her eyes still wide but never leaving Senji's form.

Senji sighed, glancing at her injured leg and realizing she must not have much blood left. She would surely die if he didn't do something. If that wasn't bad enough, judging by the crumbled mess her leg had become, it must have broken several times as well.

He growled, why did he always get stuck into these sort of situations?

Quickly, he lunged towards her, and she barely had time to put her arms up to shield herself as his hand clipped her temple, effectively knocking the woman unconscious as her still widened eyes closed.

He sighed again, swiftly removing his torn jacket from his bulky body and draping it over her limp form, careful to cover her body well before slinging her limp body across his own. Apparently, her clothes had been ripped away from her by her attackers-exposing more skin than Senji liked to think about. Unbidden, his face flushed and he cursed his idiotic sensitivity for the umpteenth time.

What an uncool weakness.

With the girl now secured against him, he trudged his way down the mostly deserted Japan sidewalks-walking the great many miles to the hospital. His thoughts once again began to swim. Had the kid-Ganta- somehow softened him during his time in Deadman Wonderland, or had he always been that soft and never realized?

He shook his head, remembering those orphans he used to visit. Inari and Hinata.

No, he had been soft then too. He just didn't realize it.

Minatsuki drummed her fingers against the cold metal table, listening to the swift 'click, clack, click, clack' as her fingernails-now pleasantly grown since her imprisonment-tapped the surface repeatedly. Moments passed and she groaned, rolling her caramel eyes and running a hand through her tousled hair. Hair that now brushed her shoulders in the time it had been allowed to grow.

She smirked, recalling the whiny brat Woodpecker that pecked off her long locks during their first and only Carnival Corpse with his annoying Ganta Gun. Such a shithead, but it seemed he was subconsciously growing on her. Friendship-disgusting.

The Hummingbird herself had been waiting in this position, alone to her thoughts, for nearly ten minutes now waiting on her idiot brother to have his daily meeting in which he would update her on the outside world and bring her useless gifts. He was never, ever late.

She grunted boredly, maybe the idiot had finally gotten caught thieving and was in an identical prison somewhere. Or perhaps he finally found some other girl to dote on.

She laughed maniacally at that, startling the pair of posted guards behind her with the unexpected noise. Yeah, right. Yoh would sooner die than waste a moment of devotion on some other girl. His sister complex was unparalleled, or so it seemed.

"Minatsuki!" Came a frantic call from the other side of the glass. She knew it was Yoh, but as she was still recovering from her recent fit of laughter and unable to speak, let alone breathe-she did not reply.

Giving her time to gather her wits, Minatsuki glanced up at her brother once regaining composure. She blinked at the starkness of his face. For once, Yoh wasn't his usual overbearing, sister-loving self. The Yoh staring back at her from his side of the glass wore a hard, deadly serious expression she'd seen him wear only a few times in their life.

Sensing this, Minatsuki swallowed the urge to make a snide comment or burst into another fit of laughter. Instead, she took a soothing breath and picked up the phone line beside her, holding it up to her face and speaking into it so as to hear him more clearly than she would trying to communicate through the glass.

"So, tell me Yo-Yo, what's up?"

A pause. She heard him draw a quick breath.

"Minatsuki, the police are out of their minds. They're sending human forces into Wonderland in attempt to stop Toto and the Wretched Egg."

The absurdity of that sentence brought on another fit of giggles, which she allowed to escape for a few seconds before coughing to stifle them. Yoh waited impatiently for her reaction, drumming his fingers irritably on the table on his side just as she had done previously.

"You're shitting me. Just exactly what good do they think that will do?"

"Exactly. They're getting slaughtered."

She waited for him to add to his statement, or change the subject, as he usually did. But it never came. The old Yoh was annoying, but this one was just depressing. Tired of silence, she demanded, "Well, what?"

"Well, do something about it."

She gnashed her teeth at her brother, feeling her dormant blood boil. "What do you want me to do about it, Yoh?!"

"Humans are worse than useless against Deadman, you know that. Fight fire with fire!"

She would've whipped him.

"Newsflash Yoh, I can't-I'm kinda injail!?"

"I'm working on that part. Listen, I...heard things underground. People are talking. Saying the big man might allow Deadman out of prison if it meant they would stave off Toto and Wretched Egg."

Minatsuki snorted, rolling her caramel eyes. "Of course he did, since when did human lives matter more than Deadmen?"

Yoh's eyes, vacant of emotion, chilled her. Had Minatsuki not had years of practice playing a part and portraying a perfect persona, she might have let her hands shake ever so slightly. Maybe her lips would tremble, maybe her voice would waver, and maybe her eyes would tear up.

She knew, just as Yoh did, the reason why it mattered. She always did, she was just too stubborn to say it aloud. Yoh was simply too soft and, wanting to spare her feelings, refused to say what she could not.

Deadman had always been lesser than humans, society just never realized it until the outbreak. How sad, to think if the media would've kindly shut up about the Branches of Sin and Carnival Corpse to the public and announced a mass release of wrongly accused prisoners instead, they never would have known the difference. Minatsuki could've been released as a normal teenage girl, attending school and working a part-time job, maybe seeing a guy or two on the side.

But goddamn it all, as much as she hated the present situation, she would do anything to get a moment of freedom. And Hell, she'd be lying if she said the opportunity to release her Whip Wing on opponents of worth wasn't the most exciting thing she's heard since being set 'free'.

She breathed, trying to calm her blood that already ran wildly through her body, warming her as the adrenaline flowed with anticipation. She clutched the phone with unnecessary force as she held it close to her face, her typical nonchalant expression morphing to match her brother's own dead serious expression.

"Alright, Yo-Yo. I'm listening."

Yosuga clutched the soft Mockingbird closer to her as her unblinking caramel eyes watched the horror unfold before her. The girls whom she'd attended the carnival with cornered her in a near state of panic, pushing their high tech phones towards her in order to view the video.

She questioned them, but much of their replies were so garbled and breathless the most she could make out was 'deadman' and 'massacre'. Those words alone were enough to catch her attention.

That was nearly six hours ago, when she'd first laid eyes on the horror with her friends-more acquaintances really, since she rarely spoke more than a few sentences to them daily-surrounding her. Tears had pricked her eyes then and she shook so bad she could hardly make out of the image in the trembling device. A few supportive hands had rubbed her back or otherwise tried to comfort her, but she had quickly became overwhelmed.

Repeating his name over and over again under her breath, she fled, dropping the expensive phone. She figured she'd be forced to replace the device, but that was the least of her concerns. Ignoring the calls of her acquaintances, she ran like she had never ran before, pastel pink hair streaming behind her. Stumbling blindly into her dorm, she locked the door behind her, sank back against the wall and did not move.

"Toto." She whimpered, tears streaming from her blotchy face as she hiccuped. Only moving from her place when her joints ached from her curled position and her limbs fell asleep, she moved and found herself sitting at her desk. Staring at the blank, dead screen of her beat up desktop.

She wrestled with it for a long time. Turning it on, then quickly shutting it back down when the screen flickered to life. Did she really want to witness it again?

Back in Deadman Wonderland, she had seen Toto's prowess countless times in his many Carnival Corpses. Both fortunately and unfortunately. He truly was something to behold. Graceful, acrobatic, and deadly. In Wonderland, watching the matches had both made her eyes shine in admiration and sent her to the toilet as she surrendered her lunch after witnessing such a massacre-not in that particular order. He never lost even a single match.

Well, at least all but the last.

If she hadn't known deep down that Toto would never harm her unless she desired it, she would've lived her life in fear of him-as so many other Deadman did. However, even with that comfort, she still had a hard time looking at him sometimes, knowing what a monster he was buried beneath his childish persona.

Sometimes, she'd flinch if he'd playfully swat her. Other times, she avoided looking at his mouth, especially his pinked tongue-which had before licked the blood of his enemies with glee. Even getting close to him, smelling the undertone of the metallic blood stench that seemed to meld to his body, made her gag. She hated herself for it, but even his cheerful, innocent grin was a too personal reminder of the maniac one he'd flash towards his next victim.

But then, he'd call her 'sis' as naturally as if she truly was and her discomfort and fear would melt away. Sometimes, he'd notice and make a comment. Usually something about her being silly with the added, 'You know Toto would never hurt his big sis, right?'.

Such a marshmallow. A teddy bear. Always so gentle and loving and caring and concerned. Spooning her food after her own Carnival Corpses in which she'd end up a little worse for the wear. Tucking her in at night because staying up all night reading wasn't good for her. Sneaking into her room just to be with her.

But she had to face facts. This thing that had taken over Toto...wasn't Toto. Sure, Toto was a little...overaggressive to his enemies at times. But it was all just a game to him, nothing more. He wasn't inherently evil, he was just surviving-like every single Deadman in Wonderland did.

And so, she turned on the computer and forced her muscles that begged her to shut it off and forget she'd ever seen the damn video to still. Moments later, she'd found the footage again, noticing it had gone viral in just the mere hours it had been uploaded.

She had watched it sixteen times since then. Hours had passed, she'd missed the entire day of classes, but she didn't care. She could recite the anchorwoman's words by heart, but she didn't care. All she cared about was her Toto, the little brother she had let down and witnessing the monster than had taken its place.

The footage was poor quality-hazy, unfocused, and full of motion. Apparently one of the unfortunate souls who were stupid enough to face the two Deadman had a body camera. It wasn't long, only around two minutes of actual coverage of the incidents, but it was enough.

Toto-No, Hagire- pranced around, taunting the humans, talking to them in his playful, Toto-esque way. Finally, one lost their nerve and fired a round at him, which he gracefully dodged in a series of backhand springs and other spontaneous acrobatics.

It didn't last much longer afterwards.

In moments, Toto pegged his attacker and ended him swiftly. As the bullets flew, so did the blood. In just a few seconds, Toto unleashed an onslaught of various branches of sin until only the body-camera carrier remained. He approached the man casually, as if he hadn't just slaughtered the entire brigade single handedly.

The soon-to-be-victim trembled, shaking the video terribly, but even so his minty hair, golden eyes, and blinding white grin remained central. Casually bending to dip a finger in one human's blood, he sniffed it experimentally before releasing his pink tongue to sample the delicacy.

As soon as the substance met his tongue Toto spat, coughing the vileness out of his mouth and brushing the rest of the blood on his once white clothes now dyed a sickening crimson. He sneered, disgusted and told the remaining soldier just how vile human blood truly was.

Behind him, a nearly luminescent girl appeared behind him-a splash of brightness in the darkening crimson background. Yosuga, though never seeing the girl before herself, knew instantly who that was.

The Wretched Egg.

Words exchanged between the two, very few of which could be discerned. Her feminine, yet eerie voice clashing with his obnoxious playful tone. The words 'My Snowflake' could be heard directed at the Wretched Egg, just before she stretched out one stitched arm, and the man was no more. The feed cut off in a splash of white noise before turning completely black.

The pinkette spent the rest of the night clutching the toilet bowl in agony, retching meals up repeatedly until she was reduced to dry heaving. Tears still streamed from her swollen eyes, she could distantly hear the sound of fists beating on her door and her roommate's muffled voice. She ignored it and eventually it stopped.

Finally ceasing her sickness, she willed herself into bed-still fully clothed and a mess of tears, sweat, and her own bile. She clutched her stuffed Mockingbird to her chest in spite of everything and did not sleep.

Senji stared at the comatose woman he had carried all the way to the hospital, where she now lay in a sheer white bed of sheets in a matching hospital room. Hell, even her skin had bleached itself into a similar shade of white.

He huffed, feeling out of place with his tanned skin and dark attire. A nurse beside him nervously went about her job, checking vitals and doing her damnedest to ignore Senji's presence. He scowled, he might as well have had the word 'Deadman' tattooed on his forehead instead of his signature comrade's initials for how everyone treated him.

But that wasn't what had caught his attention.

Above each patient's bed was a mounted flat screen, placed just so the patient could clearly view it from their position on the bed. Normally these weren't on unless the patient was awake and desiring to watch, but the nurse turned it on almost immediately upon entering the room. For a moment, she had been too captivated by the scene it displayed to even notice his presence, but when she did-her reaction had been so much worse.

At this point, Senji didn't necessarily blame her. If he was in her situation, a weak human in the face of a gruesome looking Deadman, he'd probably be frightened too. A frightened badass, though.

After all, the TV flashed a horrific scene of an example of how truly dangerous Deadmen really were. Armored policemen charged the deadman almost with reckless stupidity, firing bullets blindly in hopes of counteracting the Branch of Sin. A futile attempt, to say the least.

Why weren't their weapons forged with the Branch of Sin nullifying Worm-Eater?

The bullets hit their target all right, but it did not harm her. No, that freak of nature Wretched Egg grinned even as her body reverberated from the sheer force of the blows, as if to mock the humans with her lack of retaliation. Senji felt deep seeded disgust just from glancing at her, knuckles paling as he curled them into fists with far too much needed force.

If there had been a bet to predict the Wretched Egg's actions, Senji would've won. The sick bitch did nearly the same thing that day she'd revealed herself to Ganta.

As the soldiers stopped firing, an eerie silence overcame the group as they looked upon the unharmed Deadman. Smoke curled from the bullet wounds, slowly healing the damage and soon leaving nothing but holes in her clothing as proof she'd even been hurt in the first place.

She didn't say a word. Just grinned cheekily, making a sound of glee as her hooded eyes flashed open wide and her blood danced. For a moment, she let the horror of what she was about to do sink into her victims, and then she unleashed.

In something that looked sickeningly reminiscent of a hurricane, the horror filled screams of the valiant humans were quickly sucked up into the deafening whirlwind of blood. Senji wanted to look away, but found he could not. It was almost hypnotizing, the ease in which she decimated countless lives.

It was done almost as quick as it began. The whirlwind dwindled into a gentle breeze. When the dust cleared, the horrifying scene revealed itself. Hundreds of dismembered limbs littered the ground as if it had rained them. The once grey concrete stained a permanent shade of red from the inconspicuous amounts of blood. And in the middle of all, as if standing in the eye of the hurricane, was the Wretched Egg herself-now splattered with residual blood and gore.

She grinned one last time at the camera before Toto made his appearance, tasting the blood of humans before grimacing and speaking to the monster like a loved one. Moments passed before he approached the camera and appeared to wave, smiling cheekily before the feed cut into white noise.

Senji didn't know how long he stood there, glaring holes into the TV screen with his nails biting into the flesh of his palm almost hard enough to draw blood.

"Idiots, just what the Hell do they think they're doing, huh!?"

Ganta Igarashi tensed and glanced behind him yet again. It was a strange wind that raised the hairs on his neck that told him of a near danger.

Only, each time he looked, there was nothing and no one. Who was he kidding? Each person cowered as he passed, and those that knew of him cleared a path and avoided him at all costs. As far as he was concerned, there were very few-if any-left in the world that posed a threat to him now.

So, why was he so jumpy? Why was he so on edge all a sudden? It made no sense. People feared him, therefore, there was nothing left for him to be afraid of-at least, not anymore.

It was this feeling that prickled his skin. A feeling that chilled him suddenly, a feeling of danger, a feeling of being watched. Perhaps his time in Deadman Wonderland really did change him, made him more observant or paranoid. Perhaps he really was loosing his mind...

He wouldn't doubt it. All this loneliness, all this sadness locked inside himself. At least in Wonderland he had friends, he had people to turn to. Out here, he had no one. At least, no one that would talk to him.

It was driving him crazy.

Damn it all, as much as he didn't want to admit it-he needed to have someone. Someone who could be there for him, to help him, to love him.

'Life hurts, you think we don't know that?'

Was that so much to ask? He sighed, even as the thought hit him, he knew it would be quite impossible. No one in their right mind would stop whimpering enough to listen, and those who did were usually Deadman themselves.

'But some of us choose to go on regardless.'

If only he could do something...Do something to convince everyone not all Deadmen were evil.

But how?

He sighed, kicking the dirt at his feet and pausing to rest on a nearby bench, ignoring the couple that yelped and cleared the area. Resting his head in his hands, he watched their retreat. Each step bringing him more loneliness then the next.

He would've stayed there all night if it hadn't been for the hand that laid itself on his shoulder, a strange sensation considering no one dared touch him these days. Looking over, Ganta was briefly taken aback by the mocha colored skin tone, remembering the Game Fowl's likeness. He pushed the thought away, he hadn't seen her since her early escape and he hesitated to think on her now.

'Some of us don't have time to die 'cause people count on us to survive.'

"Hey there, kiddo."

It was the voice that made him turn.

His breath caught in his lungs, eyes widening to their limit, "K-Karako?" He stammered.

She grinned, her hand squeezing his shoulder in comfort. "Nice to see you, too."

He flushed and cleared his throat, "Sorry...I-I don't really...talk much anymore..."

Her eyes darkened momentarily, "Yeah...I know what you mean."

And in that moment, her eyes seemed to say it all.

No one wanted to talk to a Deadman.

Makina once again found herself sober. A rarity since breaking out of Deadman Wonderland. Nearly a week had passed since her visitation and little chat with the police chief. Like a good citizen, she spilled all she knew and waited impatiently to see just what the human police would do about it.

She had been sorely disappointed. Disgusted even.

What were they thinking? Did they want to sacrifice these poor men? Did they want more bloodshed?

Like many other civilians, she watched as the media announced the police department's plan to eradicate the source of 'freak terrorism' stemming from Deadman Wonderland's remains. She watched as they attempted to infiltrate the facility underarmed, overrated, and most surely, understaffed.

What was it she had said before?

'You see, there's no escaping reality... or Deadman Wonderland.'

How right she was all that time ago. She had said it rather thoughtlessly at the time, escorting inmate 5580 into Deadman Wonderland. Almost ironic how that very phrase, which she had said to frighten the wolf in sheep's clothing had now come back to haunt her at this very moment. Here, miles away from Deadman Wonderland, and yet still haunted by it constantly.

And she had only been a Warden-imagine how the other Deadman must be taking this cruelty.

She, unlike the others present, was unsurprised by their failure as the men and women were torn apart by a whirlwind of blood-curtesy of the Wretched Egg herself. Her blank facial expression contrasting harshly with the horror filled ones of her peers.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

It was then and there, as media coverage after coverage recalled the incident, that Makina knew she'd have to do something about this. Something that would actually work. Something that was not stupid.

She contemplated this for many days-ranging in the level of sobriety from dry to trashed. In all states of inebriation, one thing was abundantly clear-the traditional rule of fighting fire with fire.

Fight a Deadman with more Deadman, obviously.

Once her objective seemed clear, she wasted no time, calling her assistant-Kyoko-to her aid immediately.

"Kasuga Kyoko, it seems I'll be needing your assistance."

Sure, the girl had flaws-social awkwardness ranking high, the girl's persistent boob complex taking the cake, namely-but would ultimately prove a useful and loyal follower. After all, she had executed a covert operation to spy on that snake Tamaki with relative ease, if a bit of timidness.

"O-Oh, yes Ma'am!" Came her stutter from across the line. "P-Pleasure to be of assistance!"

Makina suppressed a groan after hanging up the phone-one down, four more to go.

The Game Fowl had just departed from her brief rendezvous with the Woodpecker, a bit forlorn but full of thought. Much like the rest of Tokyo, Karako had heard of the government ordered manslaughter and the idea alone was almost enough to take away her massive appetite-almost. Deciding some food would do her good, she had stopped at a local restaurant and ordered a heaping plate of her favorite-fried chicken.

Even though her time before Wonderland was spent as a caring nurse in one of Tokyo's refined hospitals, now they would not even consider her. Therefore, Karako had been busying herself with other work-odd jobs, even the occasional bodyguard position for those looking for a little Deadman protection. She had even seen Senji around-a much worse for the wear Senji, granted.

The outside was rough for Deadmen, that much was certain.

Karako's furious munching on her fried chicken wing ceased rather abruptly following the sound of her phone vibrating against the counter. It was a nice metallic golden color, decorated in the same swirling design of her cloak back in Deadman Wonderland-for the sake of nostalgia, apparently.

She recovered momentarily, swallowing painfully as her stomach dropped and her food lost its succulent flavor. No one called a Deadman, in fact, she didn't even know why she even carried it. All of her friends on the outside had quickly abandoned her, a few with more colorful language than others. Wiping away the grease from her meal, Karako took a breath and picked up the still ringing phone. Whoever was on the other line was either desperate or extremely persistent.

Placing the phone to her ear, the gold contrasting against the silver tufts of hair, she was the first to speak.
"Hello?" Simple and straightforward, just like Karako.

"Koshio."

"This is she." Karako confirmed, still confused on just who this stern voice woman on the other end was, "and you are?"

"Sorry, perhaps it would refresh your memory if I address you differently, Inmate 7270."

No. Way.

"Ah, well if it isn't Chief Warden Makina-long time no see!"

On the other end, Makina grunted a response before cutting to the chase. The younger Deadman respected that, they were much the same in that sense of seriousness.

"I assume you saw the carnage these idiotic bastards brought on with Hagire and the Wretched Egg, correct?"

"Unfortunately, yes." Karako admitted, fork twirling as she began connecting the dots. "Tell me we're going to do something about it."

"Oh, don't worry. I have a plan, but I'll need assistance."

"Tell me what you need me to do."

"Well, Kasuga, it's settled." Makina reported shortly after hanging up the phone following the Game Fowl's quick goodbye with an air of finality. And she'd only had one bottle of wine-a record as far as Makina was concerned whenever she was forced to interact with other humans socially.

"That's great news, Ma'am! Operation Killing Deviant Deadman is a go!" The nerdy girl exclaimed from around her towering stack of paperwork. She had promptly hustled over to Makina's location shortly after receiving the call, getting fired from her office job in the process. This fact did not disturb Kasuga in the least-if her ever so cheery, if a bit overbearing personality was any indicator.

Silence once again overcame the two as each one busied themselves into their work. Kasuga with the mountains of information she was currently shifting through, and Makina left to her own thoughts as she eyeballed the meticulous blueprints before her for the thousandth time.

Calling her recruits had been the easy part. The Game Fowl and many others were all but enraged at the government's 'strategy' in dealing with Hagire and The Wretched Egg, but were powerless to stop it without permission. Makina's call gave them the opportunity they'd been waiting for.

Karako would prove herself vital to her efforts if the plan was to succeed, Makina was not loved by the Deadman thanks to her ex-position as their primary punisher, but Karako knew most, if not all ex-Deadman in the outside world. Not only that, but she was their 'freedom fighter'. If Makina was going to get more Deadman to aid the operation, Karako would be the one to convince them.

Along with the Game Fowl, Makina had assembled her own personal force-those who had previously been assigned to the Special Defense Force for the military long before her days as Warden in Wonderland. Namely, Eko Kaido, Kashima Toraichi, and Bonbu.

Eko Kaido had been as insufferably flirtatious as ever despite her crude threats-as was characteristic of him. After many dodged innuendos, Kaido had readily jumped at the opportunity. Previous research revealed he had turned his back against the military for some time now despite his skills, and had instead, taken up journalism of all things. He joked this would be the story of a lifetime and that he'd have his camera at the ready.

Makina truly didn't mind if he followed through with his jokes anyway. Perhaps if he did stay true to his word and document their struggles the world would know of the true realities of Deadman Wonderland and the sick mastermind and his blood-lusting bitch that forced this upon them and stop all this incessant discrimination. It couldn't hurt, really.

Next was Kashima, the short little man with more of a psychotic character than even Toto himself back in his Carnival Corpse days. The weapons specialist was incredibly eager to finally cut loose and had agreed before she'd even laid out the terms of their mission. Not that she expected any different from the bullet blazing boy anyway.

Finally, Bonbu-perhaps the most rational of the trio-agreed with grace after deep consideration of her plan. This went against his area of expertise, as a bomb handler. He had casually labeled her plan as crazy, but a pleasant alternative to the government's current fiasco.

Now, came the hard part-convincing the government to allow her plan forward.

All this meticulous planning had all lead up to this point-getting approval. The government was stubborn, sure, but Makina hoped her detailed blueprints of her submarine designs and the recruiters who backed her would be enough to convince them. She hoped the consequences of their actions had resounded and left them desperate for any and all alternatives.

Last ditch effort was to casually say they'd be throwing their lives away regardless, and what was wrong with a few Deadman casualties? If they valued human lives as much as claimed, they'd readily flip the tables and let Deadmen be the cannon-fodder than the humans who futilely fought otherwise.

Just one last conference and the Operation could formally begin.

A rightful army of Deadman. The world's only hope of survival.

That was what Karako believed them to be at least-but would they come? She could only hope. She knew her chances were slim-most of the Deadman were in jail, others had no motivation, nor did they wish to venture into Deadman Wonderland again anytime soon, Wretched Egg or no. Nevertheless, she had pleaded to them all. Visiting them each in turn, all from stone cold killers like Senji to the somewhat harmless Deadman like Chaplin.

Karako herself had just recently gotten the green light from Makina shortly after her meeting with the government officials, all of whom had been only too eager to sacrifice some foolhardy deadman in what they believed to be a suicide mission.

But who was she kidding? She knew better than any of them that the danger was ridiculously high. It would be almost like committing suicide, but she could not bear to not do anything. Besides, if anyone had a chance of stopping her and Hagire, it was other Deadmen.

She sighed, part of her had been rooting for Ganta to appear as well. But she knew he had loved the Wretched Egg at one time as Shiro. So would he be able to do it? Would he be prepared to face her again? The kid had already seen so much death and suffered so much, they all had. She supposed she wouldn't blame him if he was a no show.

After all, would she have done the same to Nagi? Would've she been able to kill him if he hadn't snapped out of his raging trance? She didn't think so. But would killing him have granted him mercy? Would a small evil for the greater good of others be worth it?

She didn't think she would have the strength to do it. To put someone she loved down for the sake of others...But she was not Ganta, and she had not been lying when she had praised him for his outright courage and bravery in the fight against Senji...So would he be able to do it? When the time came?

Only time would tell she supposed.

...

A/N: So sorry for the extremely long wait! Being a senior in high school was much more time consuming than I thought it would be...now to update a few times before college starts this Fall...