THE DEVIL INSIDE

A metallic stench, boisterous laughter, and the combined assault of a myriad of conflicting emotions marked his arrival at the shooting range.

Echo took a deep fortifying breath only to choke on the rusty tang. For all that he loved the cool feel of metal under his fingers, wires and plates bending to his will as he shaped them into brand new creations, he failed to see iron as anything but the messenger of pain. It bore the smell of death, the color of life seeping out of abused flesh. It spoke of misery, of loss.

"Come here, baby-bird."

He flinched as those haunting words re-awoke alongside regret. He should have run, should have called for his father before the insanity shining in his mother's eyes could take her away...

But like his mother five years ago, it was now his father, his protector, who lured him to the slaughter.

... And what a slaughter it had been...

His eyes glazed over.

God, there'd been so much blood...

"Breath."

His and his mother's intertwined on the cold marble floor.

"Imagine you're blowing out a candle. Take a deep inhale... and blow. Pffft."

Echo took a shallow breath and angrily whipped a stray tear away. He'd sworn he wouldn't linger on the past. It was as dead as his mother, and nothing, not even the power of a devil fruit, could change that.

"That's it. You're doing great baby-bird."

He didn't know how great he was doing (not very great at all if the fire in his lungs was any indication) but still abandoned the questionable safety of the shooting range's entry. Because he could stall, he could cry, he could scream... but in the end, it would only post-pone his inescapable slip into madness.

His thoughts were a jumbled mess, his brain caught between painful memories and the uncertainty born from his father's summon. His gun weighted heavy on his hips. As heavy if not more than the boulder lodged in his throat. He swallowed, eyes cast to the paved ground as he advanced through the shooting range's spectator's lane where Celestial Dragons of all ages lounged on cushioned deck chairs and socialized.

Charlos' laughter rang in the air. It was the perfect incentive for Echo to quicken his stride else he wished to end at the center of a diplomatic incident. (A part of him did, because being in the eye of a political storm sounded less nerve-wracking than to advance through the unadulterated madness that was Mary Geoise's shooting range).

Don't look at the target line. He repeated the sentence like a mantra, halting his gaze from straying whenever the loud crack of a firing gun was followed by cheerful comments and a muffled plea. A plea only he could hear. It was the kind that tore at his heart, full of fear and desperation, the kind that begged for but one thing: make it stop. He grit his teeth because... he couldn't. He was powerless. Useless. A pebble caught in a torrent. A shadow stuck at the bottom of Celestial Dragon's ruthless food-chain. And if he wasn't careful enough, it was he who'd end up tied to a cross.

Of all the lessons his father had attempted to ingrain in his steel-hard head, this one had been the most important: how to survive in Mary Geoise when his mere existence was a forbidden taboo... The results were mitigated.

Speaking of his father, Echo spotted him at the edge of the firing lane. The stiffness that had just recently claimed his form—tense shoulders and clenched jaw—was recognizable among all others, as was his flamboyant hair and piercing gaze.

"There you are," his father said.

Echo fidgeted, long fingers clasping immaculate sleeves as his body unconsciously mimicked his father's agitation.

"Here I am," he mumbled.

"... Did I ever tell you why I like this place?"

Echo shook his head no even as a part of him died at the confirmation that his father not only knew but endorsed this. What else had his naivety blinded him to?

"Because it's the perfect spot to discipline misbehaving slaves." Constantin inserted a cartridge in his gun with the blase ease of a posturing man. "Now, of course, the punishment doesn't have much effect on the punished slave," he said while taking off the safety. "But on others? Let's just say they'll think twice before unrolling their silver tongue." His scowl sent an icy gust down Echo's spine as he wondered what poor sod had invoked his ire. Then, his father took aim, and as the now familiar crack of a firing gun blared in his ears, Echo's head snapped up, gaze flickering over the horizon only to land on Shizo's disheveled form. Goosebumps erupted across his arms, a frigid shiver snaking up his nap as a single gasp fled the confines of his lungs.

A litany of nos puffed past his quivering lips when Shizo trashed her gagged head, fat tears rolling down her alabaster cheeks while red marred her thigh.

"Did you really think you could fool me?" His father's heated growl nipped his ear. "I know Echo. I've always known. The stolen food, your little escapades to the dungeons, even your silly plans to explore the world with this slave."

No, no, no!

Echo clasped white-knuckled fingers around his father's sleeves, pulling for attention. His tear-brimmed eyes spoke as loud as his broken pleas, uncaring of the pack of blood-thirsty spectators his desperation attracted.

"Enough," his father growled. "I have been much too lenient, but it stops now. You will learn your place." And in one harsh pull, he freed himself from Echo's grip.

Bang!

Pain. Fear. Distress.

"Please, please stop!" Echo rushed forth only for a pair of portly hands to restrain his—small, weak, useless—body.

Sight, sound, smell all blurred into a head-splitting maelstrom.

"It's for your own good," a familiar voice whispered in his ear before it regained its usual cheer. "How's it going, brother?"

Echo trashed in his uncle's hold. "Let me go! Stop!"

Bang!

Terror hit him like a barbed whip.

He felt dizzy, nauseous. He didn't know where Shizo's emotions ended and his own started, couldn't tell whose desperation was strongest, only that it left him suffocating.

"Please, stop!"

Bang!

"Please!"

Then came the anger, rage and resentment erupting like a hurling volcano out of every slave present on the shooting range.

Bang!

His head fell limp, searing glare hidden behind his messy side bangs as a creature of pure destruction seized control over his broken form.

His head snapped up, and in a guttural growl, he said, "I'LL DESTROY YOU!... Do you hear me?! If you kill her, I will never forgive you!"

Dull blue met wild amber.

"You're missing the point, son. I never said I was going to kill her," his father said in a dispassionate voice. "No, you see, death is too merciful an outcome, so I'm going to riddle her in bullets, and then that old useless fishman—horsy, was it?—and every other slave you've ever cared for, until you've learned your lesson."

Fear, pain, anger. Cheer, amusement, delight. They all blended into a maddening whirlpool. Echo lashed onto Shizo's emotions, onto her pain and despair, until the only thing left in his throbbing head was her plea for mercy.

"P-Please, I-I'll do anything, please..."

His father ceased his assault, but Echo's relief was short-lives as he could sense his sire's unwavering resolve.

A nod. His uncle loosened his grip.

"Come here."

Echo stumbled forth.

"Take your gun."

His breath hitched.

Wake up! Wake up! Wake up! A voice screamed in his head, for surely this could only be a nightmare...

A beat. His clammy palm paused on cool metal. Steel, a derivative of iron, his brain unhelpfully supplied.

"Get into position."

His body moved on autopilot. He went to stand on the target line where he locked eyes on the bloody horizon. Even from thirty meters away, he could make out Shizo's panicked expression.

"I'm sorry," he mouthed. But sorry for what exactly he couldn't say. The list was too long.

"Take aim."

Blood fled his fingers, leaving a numb, dead feeling in his pads.

Hands corrected his position before his father leaned down. "Hate me as much as you need, son," he whispered. "So long as you're alive and safe, I'll happily take it. Now, the poor thing's suffered enough, don't you think?... Shoot."

I am a devil, and devils shouldn't mingle with humans.

He tightened his grip.

...

BANG!