Reaper Cave HQ

There was a sound of glass shattering in a dark, moonlit night. A quiet neighborhood had enjoyed the silence under the shadowy sky until that racket disturbed one house. The noise upsetting others as more vandalism and struggles reached their ears. Within that household was a small, green haired child, irritated by the noise as she rose from bed. A few groggy whines and rubbing sleepy eyes, a young Chris groaned and began walking out of her room to quiet down the ruckus. Hearing moans from another room upstairs, she figured her parents woke up too. Recklessly rushing downstairs, the lass smelled something... odd? Noting the red liquid coating bits of the carpet and some on the walls, she followed the trails to the kitchen. She didn't know the scent that overwhelmed their home was blood, and that lack of understanding furthered when she witnessed a large man in a black sweatshirt attacking her father... Or was attacking, she assumed, but father was on the floor. That same crimson ooze pouring out of his mouth as he was slumped over with his back to a counter, eyes closed.

“Aw shit.” The unfamiliar guest cursed, turning to the child. “Nobody was supposed to be here... Whatever, I gotta make sure there's no witnesses. You didn't see me kid.” The rugged rogue spoke threateningly, deciding on what he would do with the young maiden. With his body cloaked in a metaphorical darkness, a knife was brandished, and Chris' mind made sense of the danger after he spent his time trying to be as menacing as possible. So, in response, she quickly rushed to a drawer nearby, equipping herself with a large blade used to cut meat, the steel cleaver gleaming in the light. “You want some of this, punk?!” He snarled as Chris clutched her weapon tightly with fear, yet holding herself in the best stance possible, ready to run or attack. She couldn't understand the situation by all the blood about the first floor, but her heightened senses just to live born of fright instilled her with basic knowledge of self-defense. Or so she'd like to think, but she froze as the brute shouted, beginning a charge that sent a shock of emotion through her body. Her “stance” was so prepared, her brain bombarded her with thousands of messages and commands at once, leaving her at a loss. So, instinctively, all she did was swing the cleaver as harshly as possible. With surprising strength mustered in the young girl, the blade sliced brutally into the intruder's side. “Gah!!” Was shouted from him, and Chris was still scared for her life, so the cleaver was yanked out, causing even greater pain, then slammed back into him. The night became filled with his screams until he fell backward.

“Chris?!” An older woman's voice – her mother's voice called out in a panic, rushing inside... to see two dead men and a small, green terror with weapon in hand. The parent's blood-curling shriek that shattered glass was very appropriate. Her husband was dead, a stranger was dead, and her baby was coated in blood-splatter. Rushing to her lost beloved, tears flowed – nay, flooded with hysteric sobs.

“Mom?” Chris called out to, and the older woman yelped, holding her husband's messy corpse and pulling away from the murderous child. Chris didn't quite understand what was happening, but it slowly began to dawn on her. “Dad looks like he was hurt a lot... he wasn't moving. That guy... he stopped moving too because he was in... a lot of pain...” She muttered quietly, putting the information together in an odd chain of logic. They were in a lot of pain, and stopped... what does that mean? The concept of death – the answer to the equation was lost on her only for that night, understanding she did something similar to what the thief did to her dad. Soon, the police arrived, and they took her into custody for questioning. There, they asked her a variety of questions concerning the events that transpired, but they would not explain exactly why they “stopped moving”. So, upon hearing a grunt cop whisper, “he stopped breathing, so it must have killed him.” She asked the detective: “... I... killed him...?”

Chris was informed of death, and adults attempted to soothe her with the belief her father was in a better place, especially with her putting his killer to justice. … But this wasn't justice she was supposed to carry out. Not in this way, at least. As such, the law demanded her to court, where she was easily acquitted with justified self-defense. In a single instant when the judge's gavel struck down, everyone viewed her differently, even her mother... with fear and scorn. The lass didn't understand why, considering all she did was defend herself according to her attorney, and gave a trespasser worse pain than he gave her father. Didn't she do a good thing, according to justice? Wasn't it right to stop that man from killing her, her mother, and punishing him? “I don't... get it.” She mulled over quietly, and simply kept her head down. Mother protected her from the judgmental gazes, trying to hide away her own, and it honestly didn't work. So, from that day on, Chris began studying the “law”. As a child, she didn't understand the majority of what she was trying to read, but got some ideas from watching shows and the like.

“What a joke.”

Criminals ran off with loopholes, or just lived behind bars if not executed. Multiple life sentences? What was the point of those? Technicalities? People can get out early on good behavior? Some of them just get used to prison, and they become so accustomed they get power in there.

“What a fucking joke.”

Chris swore, learning from the shows. Home, school, everywhere Chris went she felt the same way – judged, despite being right. Thankfully, mother did eventually take pity on her... mostly because she herself was being ridiculed. So, they moved far, far away while at least staying within the country, keeping that night a secret they would take to their graves, even if Chris disagreed. They just wanted to live a quiet life, and they did so for awhile. Keeping everything a secret, Chris went to school normally, making friends, though disturbing a few of them with her negative philosophies on several subjects. The matter was over with, they never spoke of it, and her mother shut her up whenever she would try to bring it up with yelling. It wasn't favorable for the budding lass, but it was something. She began picking up Vanguard with her friends, enjoying the controlling deck of Megacolony. It was... interesting, a sort of philosophy Chris was drawn too. Her units stunned, leaving rearguards unable to Stand... so the opponent would have to choose to have less offense, or call over them, sacrificing defense. Those who were too weak to press on were pressed out for those who could fight right then. It got her to think rather morbidly, thinking her father was too weak to handle the towering thug that had invaded their home... but she was stronger, so he was snuffed out. This disturbing mindset began growing curioser and curioser, especially as she entered a tennis club, and exams came around and went. In competition, those who weren't strong enough were snuffed out – dreams destroyed or delayed for another season. Loser brackets were the underground Hell of the Earth, where the cornered rats killed one another until one survived to make it to the normal brackets for the finals.

… Yes... killed one another.

“Oi, where's my cheat sheet?” A large, ugly titan of a girl snarled to the young sunshine sitting on a bench. Chris stared down at a report emptily, drowned by the thoughts concerning survival of the fittest and justice. This person was known to bully everyone into basically going to school for her, and Chris was no exception. However, Chris did not seem to care in the slightest anymore. … In fact, she grew angry about it. “Hey, nerd, did you hear me?” The gross cow hissed, beginning to fume. Chris ignored her even still, and was pulled up by her shirt, then slammed in the face by a brutal, raging fist of a mad idiot. Yes, a mad idiot. Chris knew she was superior to dumb sow who could only mooch off others, and knew she was greater than those who struggled daily over trivial bullshit like dates, their weight, relationships with teachers, and other asinine matters. I survived that day, didn't I? Because I was right. The green cheer was annoyed with this thought, because with her answer, nobody would agree. She was just a killer. She survived, but her reward is life in ridicule. What would mother do then? What if she just lied here and let the bully beat her to a hospital, or even death? What kind of justice would there be there? … No, that's fruitless. Just think about the reward: life. The number of things that could happen to the bully... expulsion, ridicule, therapy, or worse. Yes... all the stuff that could happen to Chris if she was in the shoes of this stupid cattle.

It was a little exciting to think about.

Just claim “justified self-defense”, they'll call you a killer anyway.

So she moved to kill, counterattacking and getting the offender on the ground, and just... punching her. Punching her nigh-without end, despite her groans and shrill shrieks to stop, her worthless apologies. That turned into kicking, a kick so hard to a side that it damaged a rib with an audible cracking sound. Or at least, Chris hopped it was a rib. She didn't really care. She just keep assaulting in “justified self-defense”. It was okay, wasn't it?

It was okay, right?!

No, of course not.

But their godlike attorney got them off the hook. Bullies are dangerous you know!

Whatever, the attorney didn't care about Chris' innocence. He only cared about victory so people would hire him more than others.

Yes... that competitive atmosphere of life that drove others to become wild, inhumane beasts stepping on everyone else.

“I killed her too, didn't I?” Chris asked with a malefic smirk. She was the winner, she survived. Her mother, in her horror, sent her off to a mental asylum, but she survived. In fact, her reward is living, not going to a school or community of idiots, get away from her judgmental mother, and being taken care of by the nice men in white. All she had to do was listen to the doctors trying to “rehabilitate” her. A futile effort, as Chris understood killing was good because the spirit of competition was exciting. You could always be “killed”, not just by a fatal wound or terminal disease. No, you can always watch your dreams die as someone better than you claims them and succeeds. You can always “die” by doing worse than someone else. You always have to be better, and the right one wins. If you apply for a job, newbies are only hired for pity or to give them a helping hand. In reality, those experienced with talent and skill are championed. Chris was talented in killing and Vanguard, as seen by her being responsible for a few patients dying out for her to get a better room or neighbor, to keep medicine for herself even, and fighting her guidance counselors with the card game to pretend their lessons are working. The happy sunshine preached of fun through the sport of life, for every moment can be your last, and if you're lucky, you're in the hellhole called the Loser's Brackets. Chris wouldn't be a loser – she'd always make it out with her life – her victory.

Eventually, some crazy asshole in the asylum for reasons Chris didn't know herself staged an escape where everyone had the opportunity to break and run. Tired of this boring clinic, the propagator of chaos and survival took her chance, actually joining others to assist in all of them making it out. Being one of the psychopaths, she naturally killed doctors and guards. This time not to be “right”, but to just be free. There was no attorney to help anymore, so all she had to do was always get away, always be free. It wasn't going to work as simply as that, and she didn't care. They were all met with an obstacle – the last to reach the outside. So they made a break for it, and someone fell behind, asking Chris for help.

“... You're a loser.” Chris smiled innocently with a hint of twisted evil, stomping on the hand that reached out to her, and running away with her own life. The gamble of trying to take them both out wasn't worth, because Chris didn't need a loser for an ally – a weakling. She escaped into the evening overworld, laughing joyously with the survivors. They made it...! They were free to go off on their own now, whatever they pleased. As a token of friendship from another lunatic, Chris was awarded a hand-me-down cleaver to protect herself or just do whatever the hell she wants. They all bid each other farewell before seeing a hole in the sky... a gigantic, mechanical dragon was coming out of it..

… Ah, yes. The Link Joker Invasion of this timeline began.

“Heeeeh... How interesting!” Chris spoke, intrigued by the new “game”. Vanguard became a powerful tool in war, and while she was good at it, at times she skipped straight to slashing the Reversed fighters. She even got a hold of a Star-vader deck: Nebula Lord Dragon's by slaying the user. The Reverse infection didn't affect her nearly as much as anyone else, because her overwhelming, malefic nature overpowered the Star-vader. Nay, Nebula Lord was scared of it. She even met the boy who ended up with Chaos Breaker Dragon – that same one... Shiki. Chris laughed happily, destroying him in a game, and killing him too. Before she knew it within the pasting weeks, the Star-vader Invasion was ending... because most of the human commanders were deceased. So another gaping hole in the sky opened, and a monster poured out that caused Chris' head to nearly split in two just looking at it. Fortunately, she stopped with someone gripped her shoulder.

That redheaded, big titted Outer God: Harbinger had approached her.

“I came to see what the issue was with the Star-vaders. Imagine my surprise when a little, green shit is the one who tore them apart with Megacolony or just a blade.”

“It wasn't very easy.”

“Why'd you do it?”

“Why?” Chris didn't understand the question. Why wouldn't she have done it? … But then, why did she do it? There was no one to scream self-defense anymore, and in fact, Chris herself is the one who advanced with murderous intent first. So what was the point? Chris could've ran away, gone home, talked to her mother, hid, anything else. The girl looked up in wonder, oddly able to look at the monsters, though from a distance with a slight headache. Maybe this witch had done something? To be honest, she didn't care all that much. She just stared above, contemplating the reason for doing anything she had done. Recalling the memory of her father, she imagined that scared little child just acting out of instinct... If Chrisaline Egao was in that situation again... She would grin, her heart would beat heavily and quickly to settle the terror. What if she lost? She could die! What if she didn't!? What if she won? … Yes... that was the answer. “I did it because it was fun to survive.”

“Eh?”

“Making it out as the victor feels great, the heart-throbbing excitement of a match sends me in a frenzy! I never feel better than I do when I'm competing for an ideal or life. So I killed those people because I wanted to live, and I find it exciting.”

“... Pffft... Hahaha... hahahahaha!! What the fuck?! That's fucking mental, you shitty brat!”

“Is it?”

“Yeah! Ahahaha... It's like I'm talking to Lucifer if he was at an amusement park. What a wonderful timeline.”

“Timeline?”

“Listen to me, psychotic twit. Come with me, follow me beyond this timeline. I'll take you across the universe for a game where the end of existence is at stake. Everyone fights until their last breath, with no Heaven or Hell for losers to revel in!”

Of course, the seed of Chaos accepted it. That little ray of joy who had been compared to a personification of the devil joined hands with the omnicidal monster obsessed with obliterating existence. Chris didn't care for the universe ending or continuing, as all that mattered was the endless game where everyone battled for their lives and possessions. Everything was fun, every timeline was fun, even if everyone else always lost to Harbinger. That was fine. One day, someone has to win, whether it's Habringer's ultimate victory or humanity beating the Docking Deletor. No matter the case, Chris had a grand time, and was created into the mad Clown of Void seen today.

Chrisaline survived and won, safely adjusted to the prime timeline before hers was destroyed, preventing her from becoming a Singularity Point.