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Christophe Valis

"Could You Bring Me Some Paper?"

0 · 982 views · located in The Universe

a character in “Contact Lost: Origins”, as played by Black

Description

Image⌈Name⌋
Christophe Valis

⌈Gender⌋
Male

⌈Age⌋
Twenty

⌈Race⌋
Human

⌈Occupation⌋
None/Criminal

⌈Love Interest⌋
None

⌈Height⌋
180cm/5”10

⌈Weight⌋
160lbs

⌈Psychical Appearance⌋
Christophe is a rather rugged and unkempt man, or by appearance he is. His skin is slightly tanned, short but messy brown hair framing the defined features of his face. Including his eyes which are also brown in colour, but a little lighter than the shade of his hair. His hair is always full of dust and dirt, maintaining a dusty appearance. It is far from groomed and has probably never seen a wash in years. If one was to touch it, dust would fall from the movement and would also cling to the hand. Christophe’s brown eyes are seemingly dull and lack any form of life, they are also shadowed by bags, most likely from lack of sleep. What Christophe usually wears depends entirely on what he’s given the chance to wear. His usually attire used to include a plain, short-sleeved, green t-shirt and a black pair of cargo pants. On his hands are a pair of fingerless black gloves and on his feet are a pair of heavy brown, lace-up, boots. Around his neck, Christophe also wears a dog tag, stating his name. It also has a eight digit number on it, but it’s unknown what this actually means. Blood type and religion are also on here. The dog tag reads (from top to bottom): Valis, Christophe D., 910-26-379, O Neg, Antitheist; All in capital letters. The chain is made up of silver balls and the tag itself is silver plated.

⌈Personality⌋
Christophe is a psychopath, meaning lack of empathy and remorse. He cannot understand the emotions of others and is unable to portray them himself. For instance, when a normal person sees someone in pain or distress, he would also feel distressed. Chris wouldn’t. This causes him to carry out acts of cruelty and callousness because he is not affected by the emotions his victim would feel. Because he feels no emotions when faced with others, he regards them as nothing more than objects. He cannot feel or portray emotions as deeply as a normal person would. Though he is not completely unemotional, his emotions are shallow and described as nothing more than primitive responses to a situation. One who was usually faced with a mugger holding a gun to them would freak out, sweat, tremble, vomit or loose control of their bowels. Christophe has no sensation such as this. This can also make him a dangerous risk-taker because the thought or pain of the punishment does not phase them. Christophe cannot feel love, he can charm others and become infatuated with them for a short amount of time but he’ll never actually be able to love someone. Though he enjoys the pleasure from sexual encounters and would consider any relationship superficial and impersonal. Despite Christophe’s lack of showing emotion, he claims to experience deep ones from time to time. Stating that he would feel grief from the death of a parent or perhaps even remorse. Delivered in a monotone leads people to believe that this is just acting.

He is a deceptive person who is frequently ready to lie to get what he wants or to impress someone. Christophe is able to do this because he has a confident presentation which never betrays signs of anxiety, hesitation or shame. People would constantly believe he is telling the truth due to the fact that a normal person would be unable to lie without showing some signs. If Christophe is caught in a lie, he will not show embarrassment or anxiety, he’ll merely continue on and redirect the tale with indifference. The man is extremely intelligent which makes him highly dangerous to the people around him, diverting the blame is no problem at all for him. Christophe is also a master manipulator, he is able to charm and trick those into what he needs them to do. He’ll also speak to someone in a way where he doesn’t care if he causes offence, or if he is rejected or put down. When these things happen then he’ll dismiss them and won’t be discouraged to try again. It is known for him to seduce those into getting what he wants, coldly abandoning them when the victim is no longer useful.

Being impulsive and one to act upon first thoughts rather than thinking through a situation and deciding the best possible choice. He does not recognize the risk of being caught or the consequences of his actions. He seeks quick satisfaction thrills and does this by a variation of crimes, no matter how small or big. He has a low tolerance for boredom and constantly desires a thrill or excitement of some sort. He’ll frequently break the rules and risk his safety for cheap thrills. Chris lives in a day-to-day lifestyle, changing his plans quickly and having no real goals in life. He may state that he does have a goal but said goal would never be achieved due to the lack of motivation or the sheer improbability of it. He doesn’t quite understand the skill and discipline needed to reach the goal, thus would end up giving up or just not bothering to begin with. It’s known for him to change jobs, partners and plans on a whim without any given notice. He is constantly bouncing from one to the other and in-and-out of prison, without feeling any remorse for the lack of direction and achievements in his life. In the work-place, Chris shirks duties constantly, especially those he finds unexciting. This also implies that Christophe is irresponsible, he doesn’t care for getting girls pregnant during sex and will almost never have protected sex. If faced with a child of his, he’ll neglect it and not want anything to do with it. He will never blame himself though, always putting the blame upon others or outside factors. Christophe is not afraid to screw over his family and friends so he can walk away without any trouble. He fails to learn from past events and never changes his behaviour to avoid trouble. He’ll continue to pursue the same habits despite being in rehabilitation numerous times. Punishment and rehabilitation have no positive effect on him.

Christophe is the type of person who cannot control his temper at all. He is highly reactive to insults, no matter how subtle or unintentional they are. He’ll throw tantrums over trivialities. The tantrums are often short-lived and he can revert to his calmed state moments later. Although his aggression is brought on by the slightest things, it is not uncontrolled. Christophe lacks the tense emotional turmoil which normal people feel when they are angry, as such he cannot go ‘mad with rage’. An inflated self-esteem, almost to the point of being narcissistic. It’s common for him to think that he is the centre of the universe and sees himself as a superior being. Chris appears arrogant, opinionated, domineering, and cocky. He believes himself to be the smartest person in the room and will not care for other’s opinions in the slightest. Chris expects large rewards for low efforts, privileges above his rank and is generally ungrateful. It is not uncommon for him to describe his victims as inferior or weak, a need for them to be taken advantage of. Christophe also brags about the amount (and type) of crimes he has committed and his talent for deception.

Christophe is Antitheist, meaning he is against God. He believes in him but he doesn't like him at all. The man also has an addiction to cigarettes and is a very heavy smoker. He enjoys art and drawing mainly but also enjoys writing. This ties in with his history.


⌈Weapons/Equipment⌋
None. Used to keep a knife within his boot but it was taken away when it was used in an attempt to kill someone. The knife was the same one he used in his first murder. Christophe decided to keep it as it held some importance to him, despite it only being a kitchen knife.

⌈Biography⌋
Christophe was born into a broken up family. His childhood would be described as rather tragic. His father was an extreme alcoholic and would constantly be taking drugs, shirking his responsibilities. His mother would also drink and take drugs to reduce the stress she was feeling. Christophe was an unplanned child, one which neither of them wanted but they could not bring themselves to give it up. Luckily his mother had managed to drag his father to live with her and help take care of the child. Though he did exactly the opposite. Christophe’s father would come home night after night and take his anger out on him; punching and kicking the young child (aged about two). His mother didn’t do much to help, she also would take out her frustration on her child. At one point Christophe was thrown into a wall, his soft skull cracking open, he needed surgery to repair it. As well as psychical abuse, Christophe was also victim to rape by his father at the age of eight. He was confused, scared and most importantly, hurt. His father left the next day never to be seen again.

From an early age, Christophe always had a strange hobby. He would torture animals, it seemed okay at the time as humans tortured each other all of the time. He killed a few animals once or twice, mainly by the use of fire. Fire excited him. The way the flames danced around and engulfed the surroundings, burning them and dragging animals down into the pits of hell. He was bullied terribly by the other kids at school and was never accepted in society. He found comfort in drawing pictures of people as well as writing various stories. Christophe was a bright kid, intelligent and able to take on the world if he wanted to. However his abilities went to waste.

As Christophe matured, he became fascinated by voyeurism, fetishism, and sadomasochistic pornography. Fetishism, partialism, and necrophilia, are paraphilias which involve a strong tendency to experience the object of erotic interest almost as if it were a physical representation of the symbolized body. Individuals engage in paraphilias which are organized along a continuum; participating in varying levels of fantasy perhaps by focusing on body parts (partialism), symbolic objects which serve as physical extensions of the body (fetishism), or the anatomical physicality of the human body; specifically regarding its inner parts and sexual organs (one example being necrophilia).

Christophe became a very messed up kid and by the age of twelve he was out on the streets causing havoc. He would set fire to bins, beat up random people for money and even rob shops. No one could really do much about it as he was too young to go to prison and his mother hardly cared. It gradually got worse and worse over the years, Christophe became involved in gangs and mobs. One which would plan out robberies of jewellery stores and other high profit businesses. Eventually Christophe left when the rest of his group were sent to jail, him managing to escape by using his deceptive skills. He attempted at getting a job, but failed every time. It was on one day that Christophe was walking in the town that he bumped into his father. The one who he hadn’t seen for ten years.

They spoke only a little, his father seemingly not remembering Christophe at all. However the teen followed his father back to his house, breaking inside and pinning him to the ground. His father screamed, but was muffled by his own tie being shoved into his mouth. Christophe, after much scuffling, bound his legs and hands, rendering him helpless. He took a cushion from the sofa and smothered his father’s face with it. The man struggled beneath him until he finally ceased all movement and breathing. Christophe felt no remorse in what he did to his father, he felt no sense of guilt or shame. He felt excited, blood pumping through his veins, happy that the world had to deal with one less asshole.

Christophe stood up slowly, throwing the cushion back onto the chair and staring down at his father’s body. He wasn’t entirely pleased. So he took the notebook from his back-pack and began sketching his father lying there. It was a perfect replica of the image in front. He shoved the book back into his bag and took a knife from the kitchen counter. His father had not suffered enough. Christophe began stabbing and ripping flesh from his father’s body, until the identity was no longer visible. The body lye there mutilated in ways too horrible to describe, you could no longer tell where the face and other body parts were supposed to be anymore, just a pile of flesh, bone and organ. Any normal human would have vomited, Christophe didn’t. Any normal human would have felt horrible and guilty for doing something like that, Christophe didn’t. He was happy with his work, cleaning the knife upon a kitchen towel and wiping all fingerprints everywhere. He tucked the knife into his boot and left the apartment calmly.

And so began Christophe’s killing spree.

For two years he went around murdering people in various ways, drawing their peaceful and sleep-like images into his sketch book before mutilating their bodies in horrific ways. He would rape his female victims too, mutilating them in certain ways and putting them through the most torture. Most of his victims were female, only two were male. He killed twenty people in total until eventually he was caught. Christophe became sloppy with his work and managed to leave a trail, the police hunting him down and arresting him. They knew not what to do with the man, his crimes deserved something much more than life in prison but they were apprehensive about a death sentence. That had been abolished years ago. So they had no choice but to send him somewhere he couldn’t cause any harm; on a ship with the finest crew around. Christophe was locked inside a cell in the darkest part of the ship, awaiting the day he heard his punishment, whilst the crew set off on a new mission.


⌈Other⌋
Christophe likes to draw, that is fairly obvious by the way he kills people. He is highly intrigued by the human form and calls himself an 'Alternative-Artist' by the name of Valis. He legally changed his last name to it as well. Christophe keeps all of his drawings of people he killed inside a notebook which was never found by police but Christophe left copies of his picture next to the bodies. The one exception being his father. The walls of his cell are vandalized by drawings of; people, animals and other random things, all mutilated in some form or another. What Christophe uses to draw depends entirely on what he can get his hands on, he'll even use his own blood if the urge to draw is that great.

⌈Theme Song⌋
Blue October ~ Dirt Room

So begins...

Christophe Valis's Story

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#, as written by Black
The cell was cold, lonely, stuffy and most importantly, dark. A single flickering light on the ceiling illuminated the surroundings. A metal frame with a worn out mattress and a toilet, both bolted and chained to the floor by the strongest metals. There were no windows in the cell and the only way out was through a giant metal door, unlocked only on the outside by a thirteen pin code and several keys. In the far left corner, a camera was placed high above the ground to avoid tampering with. Christophe Valis sat on the bed, glancing up at the flickering light and flinching slightly whenever it suddenly died and came back on. His gaze shifted slowly over to the camera, wondering who was watching at this minute. The camera was able to move around, but it hadn’t moved for some time now. Of course there was also the camera outside, but it could only see in through the small, bullet-proof, glass window on the door. Ever since Chris was brought here, he had been working on escaping. Though that was near useless because the only way to get out was to make someone open that door.

Sighing lightly under his breath, Christophe gave one last heavy kick to the chain on the leg of his bed. It snapped and the chain fell to the floor with a loud clunk. Thankfully they hadn’t had the sense to chain the man when inside the cell. Christophe bent down and picked up the chain in his hands. He stood up and wandered over to stand directly below that annoying light. He threw the heavy chain up, smashing through the light. A few protestant sparks and flashes, then the light was off, plunging the entire cell into darkness. Next was the camera. Picking his way through the darkness, Christophe reached out touching the wall. He felt his way around until he was at the corner. Tilting his head up and narrowing his eyes, he could just about see the shape of the camera. With the chain in hand, he threw it up. It wrapped around the camera and with a few harsh tugs, it was pulled to the floor, smashing upon impact. Finally he could rest without the annoying light flickering and people watching him.

Once again Christophe found his way through the darkness, stuffing the chain under his mattress and throwing himself onto it. He lye there staring up at the ceiling with both arms over his chest, blinking through the darkness until his eyes could finally adjust. Soon someone would be here to see what was going on, at least then he would have someone to talk to. Christophe pulled a cigarette from his pocket and shoved it in his mouth. Luckily they hadn't taken away his cigarettes when they brought him here, however they did take away his lighter. So the man was left suffering without a smoke for a few days now. That didn't mean he wouldn't chew on the cigarette and eat the tobacco that way. It was horrible, but it stopped the man from going into a metal break-down without nicotine.

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As Christophe lay there staring up at the ceiling, he brought both hands behind his head. Yawning loudly, he slowly closed his eyes. Woken up only by the sudden brightness. His eyes snapped open to stare up at the dim light strips on the ceiling. They didn't improve the darkness that much but there was a definite different. Shapes were now clearly seen in the room, which would mean that the camera outside could get a much better view. Though the darkness would also aid Christophe with something. Taking the cigarette from his mouth, he sat up and rubbed his head with both hands. Christophe always found it difficult to sleep unless it was completely dark, though he was thankful for the small amounts of light radiating from the ceiling. Staring up at them he concluded that there was no possible way to destroy them. The bulbs were covered with a strong material of some sort, most likely plastic. It would take several powerful hits to even destroy one of them and there were four strips running lengthways of the cell. It was pointless to even try. Unless...

Pushing himself up to stand on the bed, Christope's fingers brushed lightly against the hot plastic. He balled his hand up and punched it a few times, though it made no cracks or dents. Deeming it impossible to try anything else, Christophe sank back onto the bed, laying on his stomach and burying his head into the flat pillow. Being locked up with no one to talk to and nothing to do was extremely boring. The only thing he could do was sleep. The man had the urge to draw, though he had no supplies at all. Not even something to scrape along the wall. Somehow he would have to get the attention of whoever worked here and ask for those things, or he could just get out of there.

Christophe slowly turned his head to stare at the smashed up camera just lying there on the floor. His attention then moved onto the camera outside of the cell, it could only see through the window on the door, meaning that it couldn't see certain things. Jumping to his feet, Christophe wandered over to the camera and glanced behind him, checking that the one outside couldn't see him. Placing the cigarette back into his mouth, he pulled the casing off the camera with his bare hands and picked through the machinery. Though it was broken, it sparked and hissed in protest as Christophe tugged on a few things. Christophe growled each time it gave him a slightly electric shock. Eventually he managed to pull out a few wires and twist them together in his hand. The end was straight and sharp, perfect for lock-picking. The only problem was the code on the door, and only on the outside of the door. Perhaps he would have to over-ride the system and electrocute it so it shut itself off. The camera could be used for that, but for now, Christophe would concentrate on picking the lock.

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The sound of footsteps couldn’t be heard from inside the cell due to the heavy metal door and thick glass. So when the speaker suddenly emitted a crackling sound from being turn on, Christophe froze on the spot.

“Ah Mr. Valis, I believe we haven't met. Up to no good I see.” The voice echoed through the speaker. Christophe turned sharply to stare narrow eyed at the man behind the door. The man had icy cold blue eyes and hair as black as the night. He looked like a tough fellow in his late twenties; one which couldn’t easily be messed with.

“Glad I finally got your attention.” Christophe replied with a sly smile.

“You may call me York, it seems fitting that you know my name, we'll be seeing a lot of eachother. Now I'm a reasonable man, if you would be so kind as to drop the camera and chain into the drop box, I could perhaps give you something in turn.” Christophe’s gaze wandered over to the box located on the door. It wasn’t that big but it could easily fit the broken camera and the chain in it.

“Sounds fair, but it depends on what you’re offering.” Christophe crossed both arms, hiding the lock pick he created from two wires. As York held up a lighter, Christophe immediately considered trading it for both of the things in his cell. His body craved the nicotine which he just couldn’t get from chewing on unlit cigarettes any longer. To feel the poisonous smoke enter his lungs once more was almost too great to think about.

“A lit cigarette for the chain and camera. Deal? So long as you don't start any fires of course.” York replied simply. It was most likely a stupid thing to trust a dangerous criminal with something which could cause a fire but it was obvious that it would have no effect on the door and it would end up killing Christophe due to the smoke. His eyes wandered over the room, searching for something. They stopped only when they came across a small vent high up on the front wall. He hadn’t noticed it before but mainly due to it’s minuscule size. You would be lucky to fit a starved mouse through there, let alone anything else. The vent would hardly filter masses amount of smoke. It was more than likely Christophe would suffocate when creating a huge fire. That option just wasn’t there anymore.

“How about
” Christophe frowned. “I trade you the lighter for your broken camera.” he motioned with one hand over to the smashed up ruins of it. “You can have the chain if you bring me one of three things;” Christophe held up one finger. “Another pack of cigarettes,” two fingers. “Some paper and pencils,” three fingers. “Or some chalk.” He wandered over to the camera, bending down and slipping the wire into his boot before picking up the camera and standing up. He walked back over to the door, showing the broken camera through the glass window. “Deal?”

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As his guard fell silent -- lost in thought -- Christophe stood completely still with the camera in hand and a smirk present on his face. He was just pleased to finally talk to someone and perhaps get a few things out from it.

“I'm afraid I can't give you the lighter. It isn't exactly standard issue, and the Captain wouldn't want me giving you this in the first place. Further more you are in no position to bargain.” York spoke in a calmed tone. Christophe replied with a frown, throwing the camera straight behind him. It hit the far wall and broke into even more pieces, scattering like rain. Granted it seemed as if someone had just set off a bomb at the back of the cell. The camera was past fixing point now. Valis opened his mouth to say something but quickly fell into silence as his eyes wandered around the cell once again. They landed on the vent, knowing full well that they could pump something in as well as out. He really wasn’t in a position to bargain.

“I know.” Christophe replied simply, “But-”

“I will give you black chalk and paper. In exchange for the Camera and the chain. Take it or leave it.” Mike replied. The criminal sighed heavily under his breath. He badly wanted a cigarette -- a lit one -- but he knew that it was almost impossible to get unless he reverted to the old cavemen teachings of creating fire with two rocks. However there was a tiny problem with that -- he didn’t have any rocks. That would just be too easy. The urge for him to draw was also great. Christophe was bored and needed to occupy himself, he did that before by creating trouble and even that got him nowhere fast. It was better than nothing. Valis opened his mouth to reply but stopped immediately when he noticed that someone else had come in. He could only see their side, but there was definitely someone else there. York stepped away from sight and the visitor disappeared too. Even when pressing himself right against the glass he couldn’t see anyone.

Christophe backed up, glancing around his room once more before wandering over to his bed. He pried the chain out from under the mattress and wrapped it around his neck. He returned to the viewing slot with both the camera and chain. He managed to look over the various parts of the camera and slip a sharp shard of metal in his other boot whilst the two of them spoke. Now he waited until York came back into view before smiling.

“I accept your offer, on the condition that you uphold your end of the deal.” Christophe held the items over the top of the box. He glanced straight up at York through the viewing slot with a dark expression on his face. “I might be a ‘bad’ person but surely I deserve something for being good.” Valis laughed to himself, dropping the camera in the box and unwrapping the chain from around his neck. “You don’t know what it’s like to be me
” he muttered under his breath, staring down at the chain within his hands as if the item managed to bring back a memory; good or bad. “To see happiness and want to destroy it
 The only music you want to hear is the chorus of screams in agony.” he began to smile now. “To be covered in that warm, sticky paint you call blood!” Valis burst into a small fit of laughter, finally managing to calm himself down to just a snicker under his breath. “Have you ever seen a human body mutilated in various ways? That is true art. To see the elegant and complex form of a person, twisted to create an image even the Devil despises. It's so sick it's beautiful.” he finally looked up at York now, “Uphold your end of the deal just as I did.” he dropped the chain in the box before walking back over to the bed and collapsing on top of it, lying there laughing under his breath. His gaze wandered back over to the door for a brief moment. “Tell your friend I said hi too.” Valis closed his eyes, sighing in an unknown relief.

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Christophe Valis


An eerie silence filled the room, engulfing everything in a sick suffocating sense, broken only by the faint crackling of the speakers as the speech button was pressed outside. No more sound came through and the speakers were turned off, leaving the same eerie silence in the cell.

“Chris, killing someone doesn't give you anything. It steals parts of who you are, until there's nothing left to take.” Mike’s voice finally pierced through the silence, soft and somewhat sympathetic. Chris
 he hadn’t remembered the last time someone called him by that name
 A small smile placed itself upon the criminal’s face, this time it was a lot calmer and
 human. Though he couldn’t hear the footsteps fade away outside, he knew that both of his visitors had left, leaving him once again to drown in the solitude of his own cell -- his home now.

He ran both hands through his thick brown hair, placing them behind his head as the pillow he rested on was just too flat. Finally his dull brown eyes opened to stare up at the ceiling once again, concentrating on nothing in particular. The humanity left inside of him screamed in protest at his sick day-dreams. The feeling of warm blood on his own bare skin, clotting his hair together and coating his clothes where the marks would never come out. Screwing his eyes shut, he managed to block out said thoughts and save the part of him which had become too weak under the weight of his own psychopathic nature -- the side he calls Christophe differs greatly to the side named Valis. Valis is a criminal, Christophe is a normal person who never wanted any part of this. The thought never occurred to him before, because he could never separate the two personalities.

When Valis’ eyes opened once again, he got to his feet and pried the metal shard from his boot, tossing it between both of his hands, narrowly avoiding cutting his palms. Christophe dreaded what would happened next, what exactly his other self would do with such a thing, if he could do anything. Valis wandered to the far wall and began dragging the metal shard against it. The sound was almost unbearable, even worse than hearing a nail on a chalk board, however it was drowned out by the insane laughter of Valis as he carved the word ‘Dead’ in large letters right across the wall. Blood seeped through his fingers and the shard of metal clattered against the floor, bloody and blunt on one end. He clutched the wound on his hand with the other and stumbled back over to the bed, flopping down on it, lying on his stomach with his head buried within one arm, whilst his other hung limply over the side, blood dripping in a slow rhythm and pooling below.

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Shifting to face the ceiling, Christophe brought his injured hand to rest on his chest. Blood still seeped from the wound as the metal shard was sharp and had managed to break several layers of soft flesh. It didn’t hurt as much as it should have done, or perhaps Christophe was too caught up in his own thoughts to notice. The ceiling had nothing interesting on it, it never did and never would, but it was the ceiling he had grown familiar to, the same one he would see for a long time to come.

“Maybe it's a good idea to clean your wound. I'm Shezal if your interested and I will observe you from this point. Ask whatever you want whenever you would like too.” Valis smirked as a new voice echoed around his cell. He lifted his bloody hand into his vision, carefully examining it like it was a work of art.

“I get to ask the questions? Surely it would be the other way around.” he didn’t bother moving from his comfortable position to see who was speaking to him, instead he casually moved his hand around to check it from different angles. After just a few moments of uncomfortable silence, Chris turned around on the bed and stared out towards the door, slowly getting up and wandering over to it. Valis brought his bloody hand against the glass, marking it with a sticky red handprint. “My question to you, is why can’t I get any privacy?” His concentration immediately flicked onto the flashing red light out in the hallway. Chris span around violently to stare up at the slight flicker of his own cell’s lights. Yanking his hand away from the glass, he quickly walked over to the bed.

Next thing Christophe knew was that he was leaning against the far wall, blood splattered behind him and pooling beneath. His lifeless brown eyes flickered open and stared down at the ground below, he could only assume that during the jump, his body had been flown against the wall and knocked him unconscious. Getting to his feet proved a slight discomfort and Valis hissed out from the pain in his back, wrapping his hands around the stray shard of metal and giving it forceful tugs. Luckily the scraping against the wall had blunted the ends, but that didn’t stop it from embedding itself a good few inches into his lower back. The shard clattered against the ground, floating in the pool of blood. Chris merely stared down at it with a painful sigh, staggering back over to the bed and lying down on it. His muscles ached, his head was foggy and his wounds stung.

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#, as written by Black
“The idea I should ask the questions comes from the idea your too stupid and unsocial to make a good conversation that a observer could use, I believe your more than able enough so you get to ask the questions.” Shezal’s voice echoed once more around the room, answering his pervious statement before the jump. Christophe smiled, only a little, perhaps at the sound of hearing someone else’s voice, which seemed completely unharmed.

“Why would you want privacy after all you may or may not end up in a prison cell for the rest of your live 23.5 hours per day alone so you could say I'm one of the last people you will be talking to.” Chris’ smile immediately disappeared and was replaced with a glare, directed at the ceiling. “Don't try the answer you hate talking to people because I know you do but only if you can’t control the situation or if the person is challenging you. Christophe Valis I have read your biography and I do have to give you a little praise for not going completely nonfunctional. Would you like some advice on how to stop the bleeding?”

When Shezal was finished with his slightly boring speech, Valis smirked and turned on his side, carefully running his fingers through the cut on his back. Blood dripped from his fingers as he held them out in front, the smile still present on his face.

“Blood is the only thing which shows me that I’m still alive.” he replied, bringing his hand to his mouth and allowing the blood to drip into his open mouth, like a child would let water drip from an icicle which hung above.

“Also I will praise your skill as a artist, I have some of your drawings in front of me now.”

“Really now?” Valis laughed a little under his breath and turned to face the door. “The human form is such a beautiful one, don’t you agree?” he crossed both arms out in front and rested his head on them. “You should have seen what I did to those people after I drew the pictures. That was the real art.” he paused for a moment as if remembering something. “I would have drawn them when they were still alive, but no one wanted to pose for me, so I had to kill them. It’s why each picture appears as if they are sleeping.” Though Valis was speaking about something dark, there was air in his voice and he spoke a lot softer than intended. “I took a pillow from the nearest place and smothered them with it, perhaps having a bit of fun with the females as I did so, if you know what I mean. When I was satisfied and they were dead, I took out my sketch book and drew them. They always looked a lot more beautiful when they slept. After that I would take the knife from my boot and began stabbing and ripping at their flesh, creating the real art which you all find so twisted and cruel. But is it really that cruel? You people kill one another all of the time, why not let me have some fun for once? People pay good money for my artwork too, the after images, more than the before.” Valis' tone remained calm all throughout, it never spiked once and held a subtle hint of loneliness in it.