The stillness and tranquility was destroyed in the blink of an eye. Arkham Asylum was thrown into chaos and madness. Sirens rang from every corner. Fire was everywhere. Frantic patients rushed out of the cages like a tidal wave into this bloody and dark building.
The pungent smell of disinfectant could not conceal the smell of blood. As the unrest spread, one could hear the screams and cries from every corner. In the corridor, the terrified doctors and nurses fled, but countless figures broke through the cages and pounced on them, tearing them into shreds.
Candles were knocked over by someone and fell onto the ground. The fire spread wildly as clothes were ignited and people ran in fear. It first came to the corpse warehouse, then the patient ward in B1, and then the laboratory and special research area in B2. Quickly, dozens of the mutants sleeping in petri dishes also went out of control. Those who were close to completion suddenly transformed into demons and went mad. They furiously killed the researchers, leaving blood all over the ground.
In the chaos, someone opened the black door of the warehouse to escape. As a result, he was torn into shreds by the group of bone primates pacing outside the door. Then, those demons raised outside rushed into the asylum too, spreading quickly with the chaos. As the sirens rang, the vengeful spirits hunted frantically for every living thing that had ever been involved in their transformation. Blood was shed wherever they went.
Amidst the chaos, a fleeting figure was three stories below ground in the guarded library. He leafed through the files and quietly looted this treasure cove. Here were all of Arkham Asylum’s records, including notes on transforming patients into demons, all reports of clinical observations, drugs use records and distribution methods, as well as the transformation skills left by those dark musicians. As he searched, he pocketed all of the the achievements that the parliament had worked so hard on.
Finally, the figure stopped. He had found the most critical file at last and carefully put it in his pocket like it was a treasure. Now, he had accomplished more than half of his goals. The man known as Lord Moriarty laughed hoarsely and walked out.
Quickly, he noticed the chaos outside and the screams from all directions. After reading a dead man’s memory, he learned of the reason behind all this. He fell into silence.
"No wonder he is Holmes, the Vengeful Spirit," he sighed with shock and pity. "What a shame that I didn’t kill you at the first time I saw you."
He did not stay any longer. Like an invisible spirit, he walked through the wards and corridors of unrest and entered deeper into the darkness. There, the aether was rippling wildly. The blood sacrifice was reaching its climax!
-
"B1 is completely out of control!"
"The sixth lab is unresponsive!"
"Sir, the imprisoned mutants broke through the gates and ran into the second operating room ..."
"The Black Gate was breached! Holmes is going to reach the central security room! We can’t stop him anymore!"
"Mad! Everyone’s gone mad!" a crazed man yelled. "They're all dead! Dead!"
"Somebody get him out of here!" Alberto roared angrily, but his eyes were blank and panicking. What was going on? How did this happen? How did everything go out of control?
"Where are our musicians? Where did they go?!" Alberto had forgotten all the deaths that had been reported. He screamed, "Where is Yellow Foot? Isn’t he in the third lab? Where is he now? Make him deal with these d*mn pieces of trash!"
"Sir, Sir..." A man stumbled in, fear written all over his face. "We don’t have any more time. Someone’s going to break in…"
Alberto's scream stopped abruptly as if he was choked. He had never felt a fear this close. He could almost hear the approaching footsteps through the door.
"Drop the gate! Seal the hallway…" He clung to the guard tightly, screaming like a madman, "Why are you standing here? Go, go, go!" The man pressed the button on the wall under his instructions. The door shook as a loud noise sounded outside the hall. The gate fell, sealing off the only exit and isolating him from the outside world.
Alberto would never let himself fall into a hopeless situation. A man who planned for the future must always have an escape plan. Including now. There were many luxurious offices and rooms in the asylum, but he had picked this one room because there was an escape route!
"Come on, hurry up, hurry…" He urged his men to push his wheelchair faster past the secret door, forging into the darkness along the icy damp walls.
At times like this, he could no longer worry about Lorenzo, who was commanding at the front line. Anyway, Lorenzo still had two brothers who would be much more successful than Lorenzo after they matured.
As they escaped quickly, he heaved violently with fear, but he could not help but smile happily. But soon his smile froze. At the end of the passage, at the only exit, stood a burly figure that almost took up the entire passage. The figure seemed to have waited for a long time here. When it noticed Alberto approaching, the broken horse mask revealed a ferocious smile.
"The Butch…Butcher?" Alberto yelped and shook his head, "No, it’s impossible, Yellow Foot should have…"
"Yellow Foot?" The butcher sneered and tossed down a spherical thing. "Are you talking about that dark musician?"
Alberto lowered his head dully, and looked at what the Butcher was holding in his arms—an insect-like head with six compound eyes. It felt heavy, like holding an iron ball. No flesh could be seen. But one could vaguely see the original distorted features on that broken face.
"I’ve never met such a weak dark musician." In the flickering firelight, the Butcher’s charred bones could be seen. He twisted his neck, producing cracking sounds. His chest had decayed, revealing white bones. A large heart beat firmly behind the white ribs. Caged by the ribs, an inhuman purple-black heart slowly opened an eye. It glanced at Alberto coldly and then shut again, as if there was nothing interesting. It went back to sleep.
That man behind Alberto could not stand the strange stare. He broke down and ran away, screaming. The next second, he was pierced through by a giant bone saw, lifted up and nailed high up on the wall.
"You’re next." The butcher walked forward.
Alberto screamed and hurriedly spun the wheelchair backward, trying to escape. But the wheelchair overturned in the chaos. He fell down onto the ground, and quickly climbed up again, crawling backwards with both his hands and feet. Under the terrifying shadow of death, he moved quickly. Like a worm writhing on the ground, he tried to escape back the way he came.
The butcher followed behind him. When he passed the corpse he had crucified, he pulled the bone-saw out and put it behind him. He tried to slow his pace down, but he still caught up with Alberto when the old man reached his supposed safe house.
It was still so quiet and peaceful here. Pinewood burned in the fireplace, exuding a fragrance that calmed the mind. But when Alberto fled here, he stopped, not for recalling this warmth, but bout of despair. The only exit in the room had been sealed as per his order. He cried out in despair. Crawling all over, he tried to hide from the huge figure, but he was pinned to the ground by the butcher’s foot.
He blubbered nonsense, like "I still have a family," like "I can give you a lot of money," like "the Shaman’s era has passed, come with me to the parliament, you’re so strong, you’ll definitely get a higher position than me." Or, recalling the past, he asked the Butcher, "Don’t you remember me? I hired you before, we worked together so well before…"
"Do not struggle," the Butcher interrupted him.
"What?" Alberto froze.
"I said, do not struggle," the Butcher said softly. "It annoys me and it’s useless." He picked Alberto up with one hand and gripped the frail neck, his fingers tightening slowly. His voice was cold and calm. "My employer said that since you’re a part of downtown, he wants me to try and leave you a whole body. So, you can't die in a faster way. I’m really sorry."
"Sh…Shaman..." Alberto squeezed the last syllable from his throat painfully. He clawed the Butcher's hands and mask, struggling in the slow process of suffocation. His eyes closed slowly, his body twitched and finally stopped.
But the Butcher still stayed in his position. One second, two seconds, three seconds passed… The still body suddenly began twitching and the tightly closed eyes flew open in fury, glaring at the killer before him viciously. He used his last strength to kick him.
In the end, his face turned purple. After a violent twitch, his body stiffened completely. After the long ordeal and planning, death finally came. That was vicious even in death, the eyes reflected the burning flames outside the window. He was the first one.
The stillness and tranquility was destroyed in the blink of an eye. Arkham Asylum was thrown into chaos and madness. Sirens rang from every corner. Fire was everywhere. Frantic patients rushed out of the cages like a tidal wave into this bloody and dark building.
The pungent smell of disinfectant could not conceal the smell of blood. As the unrest spread, one could hear the screams and cries from every corner. In the corridor, the terrified doctors and nurses fled, but countless figures broke through the cages and pounced on them, tearing them into shreds.
Candles were knocked over by someone and fell onto the ground. The fire spread wildly as clothes were ignited and people ran in fear. It first came to the corpse warehouse, then the patient ward in B1, and then the laboratory and special research area in B2. Quickly, dozens of the mutants sleeping in petri dishes also went out of control. Those who were close to completion suddenly transformed into demons and went mad. They furiously killed the researchers, leaving blood all over the ground.
In the chaos, someone opened the black door of the warehouse to escape. As a result, he was torn into shreds by the group of bone primates pacing outside the door. Then, those demons raised outside rushed into the asylum too, spreading quickly with the chaos. As the sirens rang, the vengeful spirits hunted frantically for every living thing that had ever been involved in their transformation. Blood was shed wherever they went.
Amidst the chaos, a fleeting figure was three stories below ground in the guarded library. He leafed through the files and quietly looted this treasure cove. Here were all of Arkham Asylum’s records, including notes on transforming patients into demons, all reports of clinical observations, drugs use records and distribution methods, as well as the transformation skills left by those dark musicians. As he searched, he pocketed all of the the achievements that the parliament had worked so hard on.
Finally, the figure stopped. He had found the most critical file at last and carefully put it in his pocket like it was a treasure. Now, he had accomplished more than half of his goals. The man known as Lord Moriarty laughed hoarsely and walked out.
Quickly, he noticed the chaos outside and the screams from all directions. After reading a dead man’s memory, he learned of the reason behind all this. He fell into silence.
"No wonder he is Holmes, the Vengeful Spirit," he sighed with shock and pity. "What a shame that I didn’t kill you at the first time I saw you."
He did not stay any longer. Like an invisible spirit, he walked through the wards and corridors of unrest and entered deeper into the darkness. There, the aether was rippling wildly. The blood sacrifice was reaching its climax!
-
"B1 is completely out of control!"
"The sixth lab is unresponsive!"
"Sir, the imprisoned mutants broke through the gates and ran into the second operating room ..."
"The Black Gate was breached! Holmes is going to reach the central security room! We can’t stop him anymore!"
"Mad! Everyone’s gone mad!" a crazed man yelled. "They're all dead! Dead!"
"Somebody get him out of here!" Alberto roared angrily, but his eyes were blank and panicking. What was going on? How did this happen? How did everything go out of control?
"Where are our musicians? Where did they go?!" Alberto had forgotten all the deaths that had been reported. He screamed, "Where is Yellow Foot? Isn’t he in the third lab? Where is he now? Make him deal with these d*mn pieces of trash!"
"Sir, Sir..." A man stumbled in, fear written all over his face. "We don’t have any more time. Someone’s going to break in…"
Alberto's scream stopped abruptly as if he was choked. He had never felt a fear this close. He could almost hear the approaching footsteps through the door.
"Drop the gate! Seal the hallway…" He clung to the guard tightly, screaming like a madman, "Why are you standing here? Go, go, go!" The man pressed the button on the wall under his instructions. The door shook as a loud noise sounded outside the hall. The gate fell, sealing off the only exit and isolating him from the outside world.
Alberto would never let himself fall into a hopeless situation. A man who planned for the future must always have an escape plan. Including now. There were many luxurious offices and rooms in the asylum, but he had picked this one room because there was an escape route!
"Come on, hurry up, hurry…" He urged his men to push his wheelchair faster past the secret door, forging into the darkness along the icy damp walls.
At times like this, he could no longer worry about Lorenzo, who was commanding at the front line. Anyway, Lorenzo still had two brothers who would be much more successful than Lorenzo after they matured.
As they escaped quickly, he heaved violently with fear, but he could not help but smile happily. But soon his smile froze. At the end of the passage, at the only exit, stood a burly figure that almost took up the entire passage. The figure seemed to have waited for a long time here. When it noticed Alberto approaching, the broken horse mask revealed a ferocious smile.
"The Butch…Butcher?" Alberto yelped and shook his head, "No, it’s impossible, Yellow Foot should have…"
"Yellow Foot?" The butcher sneered and tossed down a spherical thing. "Are you talking about that dark musician?"
Alberto lowered his head dully, and looked at what the Butcher was holding in his arms—an insect-like head with six compound eyes. It felt heavy, like holding an iron ball. No flesh could be seen. But one could vaguely see the original distorted features on that broken face.
"I’ve never met such a weak dark musician." In the flickering firelight, the Butcher’s charred bones could be seen. He twisted his neck, producing cracking sounds. His chest had decayed, revealing white bones. A large heart beat firmly behind the white ribs. Caged by the ribs, an inhuman purple-black heart slowly opened an eye. It glanced at Alberto coldly and then shut again, as if there was nothing interesting. It went back to sleep.
That man behind Alberto could not stand the strange stare. He broke down and ran away, screaming. The next second, he was pierced through by a giant bone saw, lifted up and nailed high up on the wall.
"You’re next." The butcher walked forward.
Alberto screamed and hurriedly spun the wheelchair backward, trying to escape. But the wheelchair overturned in the chaos. He fell down onto the ground, and quickly climbed up again, crawling backwards with both his hands and feet. Under the terrifying shadow of death, he moved quickly. Like a worm writhing on the ground, he tried to escape back the way he came.
The butcher followed behind him. When he passed the corpse he had crucified, he pulled the bone-saw out and put it behind him. He tried to slow his pace down, but he still caught up with Alberto when the old man reached his supposed safe house.
It was still so quiet and peaceful here. Pinewood burned in the fireplace, exuding a fragrance that calmed the mind. But when Alberto fled here, he stopped, not for recalling this warmth, but bout of despair. The only exit in the room had been sealed as per his order. He cried out in despair. Crawling all over, he tried to hide from the huge figure, but he was pinned to the ground by the butcher’s foot.
He blubbered nonsense, like "I still have a family," like "I can give you a lot of money," like "the Shaman’s era has passed, come with me to the parliament, you’re so strong, you’ll definitely get a higher position than me." Or, recalling the past, he asked the Butcher, "Don’t you remember me? I hired you before, we worked together so well before…"
"Do not struggle," the Butcher interrupted him.
"What?" Alberto froze.
"I said, do not struggle," the Butcher said softly. "It annoys me and it’s useless." He picked Alberto up with one hand and gripped the frail neck, his fingers tightening slowly. His voice was cold and calm. "My employer said that since you’re a part of downtown, he wants me to try and leave you a whole body. So, you can't die in a faster way. I’m really sorry."
"Sh…Shaman..." Alberto squeezed the last syllable from his throat painfully. He clawed the Butcher's hands and mask, struggling in the slow process of suffocation. His eyes closed slowly, his body twitched and finally stopped.
But the Butcher still stayed in his position. One second, two seconds, three seconds passed… The still body suddenly began twitching and the tightly closed eyes flew open in fury, glaring at the killer before him viciously. He used his last strength to kick him.
In the end, his face turned purple. After a violent twitch, his body stiffened completely. After the long ordeal and planning, death finally came. That was vicious even in death, the eyes reflected the burning flames outside the window. He was the first one.
