One night in Rainyday, red was dripping. Mixing with blue and yellow, the pink and orange and purple, the green was safe, for now. Paint brush in his hand Weapon stepped back from the wet wall, wall of exploded fucked up rainbows. The only thing that stood out from the beauty of the bright chaotic colors was the small window sized white square. The red dripped down the brush, splattering on the floor and hitting his pants where it mixed with the red blood already there. He stared and stared at the white spot, minutes passed, and all he could think of was how much he hated that white spot.
Finally Weapon slowly turned and looked at the man that was tied up behind him. His Drac mask was pushed back into dirty blonde hair and his chin was resting on his chest, passed the fuck out. Weapon chucked his paintbrush at him, splattering red on his white chest. The man woke with a scream, voice cutting out, damaged from the screaming he had been doing before he passed out. Weapon snarled, “Get up.” The man whimpered and shook his head. Weapon walked forward and the man fell to his side in a panicked attempt to get further away. Weapon grabbed his shoulder, staining him with red and yellow and pulled him up to his feet. He hauled him over to the fresh painted wall. Standing him directly in front of the white square he backed away and pointed his finger, “Stay.” Weapon pulled out his black red splattered gun, checking to make sure the setting hadn’t moved from ‘kill,’ but then the already sniffling man burst into sobs and fell to his knees. “No no no no no no!” The man begged with snot and tears streaming down. Weapon leaned over him slowly and then slammed his fist into the man’s stomach, catching him as he doubled over. With a clenched jaw he growled, “I said stay. Disobey me again and I kill your whole fucking family.”
He stood the Drac back up and grabbed his chin forcefully, making him keep his head up and look straight. Through choking sobs the man begged for mercy, “I thought you were a good guy, I thought you only killed the bad guys! What happened man! I’ll do anything!” Weapon actually cracked a smile, stepping back away from the man, “You got the wrong guy.” He let the hate rise back up then, unhindered, and the red in the room spread through his vision. Only the white stood out, like a blinding light that would burn his skin right off his bones. The white of the man, the white of the city, the white of his old room and the labs in the white tower. He raised his gun, “Wipe out the white,” and fired. The man’s head burst open and the white square was painted red. The body collapsed and Weapon breathed in deep, tasting the iron tinge in the air. “Much better.”
Weapon heard shuffling in the next room, “Haaaazeyyyy. I’m ready.”