Chapter One Dawn of the Dead

A lone man walked down the seemingly empty his street. His silver hair flowed from the tip of his down to the bottom of his neck. His red eyes pierced straight ahead with a look of utter determination. His gait was solid, without imperfection. Step after step he walked toward the one building he despised so much; school.

Everyday would begin off the same for him. He would take his father's trench coat from the terrace of his room and, after having a small breakfast, would head out the door extremely quickly. He would never try and "do" anything with his silver hair, or try and wash his face, but he would walk straight out the front door with a set pace, to arrive to the school building early, in case of any mishaps on the way. His silver hair would normally cause the people on the street to disperse, or hide away in their homes, until the strange man passed. He, of course, had a friend, just like so many others due to the same qualities, and reasons for a dispersed neighborhood, who he could talk to without much challenge, but was still always cautious around him.

The man was called Sicarius Nox. His parents were Latin Scholars, or so he's been told, and named him after one of the Latin meanings they had found. They wanted their son to have that air of mystery that could surround him, but still be able to make friends. Now, though, they'd probably be revolted at what they saw. He lived up to his name, for six years to be exact before he quit doing what he had always done.

The school had come in sight quickly, and even faster did Sicarius arrive at the building itself. Sicarius was normally one of the first to arrive, even before most teachers would arrive, which meant, he normally had an hour to himself, which also normally meant he was down at the clubroom, sharpening his skill with a blade. He has tried to put down his sword once, but still couldn't find the strength in himself to finally lay down his killing tool.

Sicarius headed toward the Kendo Clubroom to practice some more, and sharpen his skills once more. He had the way memorized to the clubroom, where the Kendo was actually performed. His mind wandered to the windows as he watched the outside of the building.

Still no people, He thought. By now, more teachers should be arriving, and coming in to their classes, and prepare themselves for the rest of the day, that would soon unfold, but no such teachers came in like normal. Only one or two at a time would come waddling into the building, their folders out, and their glasses on. It was accustomed for Sicarius to feel proud of these people. Many of them had shown him true courage, but many others change, and mangle with, their personal statuses that they had taken so much time to actually upgrade to where they were now.

Sicarius soon wandered upon the clubroom, and silently, but quickly, retrieved a wooden katana from the barrel in the storage room of the clubroom. Sicarius had taken a sturdy one, that wouldn't break under the ruthless swings that the silver haired man would put it through. He walked swiftly up to a practice dummy to the side of the room. This dummy had been put through much of Sicarius' torment, and was probably accustomed to the regular beating that it received.

Sicarius soon got into his ready position. His knees bent slightly, and his body was turned about ninety degrees to the left. His left arm was gripping where the sheath of the wooden katana would be, and his right, the hilt of the katana was held firmly in the hand.

Sicarius swung the blade, in a horizontal half circle. The blade slammed into the dummy at full force causing the dummy to violently shake, but the silver haired man was not done. With a quick shift of his wrist, the blade came back, this time from the other side, and struck the dummy right below the rib cage. Sicarius flicked his wrist again, but this brought in a vertical attack right on top of the dummy's right shoulder. The dummy shook violently again. If this was a real person, he would on his ass right now, if not dead. Sicarius took a deep breath, bowing as we did so. He straightened his back once more, before returning the wooden katana back to the storage room.

He turned on his heel, and left the clubroom, almost immediately after setting the katana up against a wall. He wandered past a couple of windows that overlooked the tennis courts and saw a couple of females practicing down there. They seemed as if they didn't notice the man as he observed silently. One stood out above the rest as her brown hair circled around her to take a look at the window that Sicarius once stood, but he had already moved on. His destination was the roof.

It was a calming place for him. He'd sit there and watch the clouds as they passed by, or sleep. Sicarius had always found the darkness, or the night, brought him more peace than the light itself. He was never around during the school, only the first day did he actually stay in the classroom, but after that he soon left the classroom to spend his days up here.

He soon found the very familiar steps that led to the roof of the building. His mind wandered the different assets of the staircase. It was a squared off staircase, meaning that there was about five square yards of space before ascending the next flight of stairs. Sicarius was able to figure out these miniscule details quickly and caused quite and uproar when the other students found out about his perceptive skills.

When he arrived at the top of the building, he opened the door and looked out upon the expansive roof. It was mostly a bare landscape, with a fence lining the perimeter of the roof, just in case any man, or woman, who had it rough decided to stop it then and there, but now Sicarius was up there, and he normally scares people away from the roof. The most out of place objet on the roof was a small warehouse. Sicarius has been in it before, climbing through the nearest window, but all he found was leftover fire axes and team equipment, which didn't have any interest to the man at the time he first discovered it.

He had no intention of entering the warehouse this time around; instead, he simply sat down, his back rested against the solid wall and calmed down. His eyes closed softly, and he listened to the low chill of the wind. He could never sleep well, but having his sleep was necessary, whether it was good or bad. He felt his thoughts drift away from him as he slowly fell into the darkness within him.

….Little did he know, he would wake up in hell.


Introductory chapter