Prologue

On the Easter of '68 he killed twelve people.

It wasn't an accident.

It wasn't a prank that got out of hand.

It was a calculated measure, something he did with full intentions of knowing what would happen to those caught up in his storm.

He killed those people, and laughed at their fear. He laughed at their terror, as they realized there was no way out. He laughed at their suffering as they shook and shivered from the cold. He laughed at their pleas, as they begged for respite and warmth. He laughed as they grew still, their bodies turning blue, their eyes glazing over as they died, all alone with no one to help them.

And when the Bunny caught up with him, and shook him by the throat, he was still laughing, his eyes showing no regret, no mercy, only happiness and michief as he stared at the furious ones above him. As if it were all a game, all a joke to him.

The Bunny was furious he knew. He's seen eyes like those before, the unrelenting fury and anger, pointed at a single target that laughed at him, mocked him, and his pain. The Bunny wanted to hurt him, wanted to kill him for what he did.

Jack didn't let him, and with a single motion of his hand, blew the Bunny away with a blast of ice and snow. He let the winds take him as he soared away, his laughter echoing above the clearing, sounding harsh and inhuman even to his ears.

He closed his eyes as his laughter receded, leaving a small smile on his face, as he let the winds take him to his destination, a dark and dreary city that reaked of suffering and hate. Snow covered sidewalks and streets from his sheer presence as he floated towards the fourth floor of a broken down appartment complex, towards the open window where a child lay.

The child was waiting for him, and looked up at Jack when he floated into his room.

"They're gone."

The child's bruised eyes widened, as he looked up at the Spirit of Winter in disbelief and hope.

"Really?"

Jack smiled and nodded. "Really."

The child launched himself at him, wrapping his arms around his torso as he cried into his chest tears full of relief and happiness. Jack held him as he broke down, cradling him to his chest, softly patting him on the back. The boy's ribs could be faintly seen through his thin shirt.

He felt so small.

Slowly, the sobs receded, and the child continued to be held in Winter's soft embrace, He looked up into Jack's blue eyes, and he knew, knew, what the child would want, what many have wanted before him. The look in his eyes, one of complete and utter weariness, pleaded at him to take away his pain, to make him suffer no longer.

And like many times before, Jack complied.

He held the boy as the ice slowly consumed him, numbing his pain, ending his suffering, bring him ever closer to the ones he loved, until his eyes closed, and his breath slowed to a stop, and stilled.

The Spirit of Winter flew away into the night, leaving nothing behind but ice and snow, that littered the streets below him.

He was halfway across the world when the girl called him.

He felt her pain, her suffering. It was deep, filled with shame and sorrow, that festered inside her heart and mind, eating away at her happiness and joy until she was just barely a hollowed shell of her former self, wasting away. She was beyond hope, beyond saving. The pain was too deep, and too potent. Had she gotten help in the beginning, when it first happened, there may have been a way to save her, to bring her back from despair. To return her inner light and bring her back to what she once was.

But there was no one, only her little brother who didn't know what to do, didn't understand what was happening, and could only offer comfort when he could.

He appeared before the girl- a teenager- and took in her disheveled appearance, the way she curled in on herself, the bruises on her arms and legs, and the faint bite marks on he neck and thighs. He felt anger, rage at what was done to the girl, what she had to go through, but hid it under a mask of calm acceptance.

She looked up at him, eyes filled with pain. They widened as she took in the floating winter spirit- his white hair, pale skin, and crooked staff- and said his name in a breathy tone filled with wonder and awe.

"Jack Frost."

There was once a time when he would give anything to be seen. Where he would pray at the Moon, pleading with him that he would do anything, anything, if he just got a little acknowledgement, proof that he was real, that he had a purpose.

Looking at the broken girl, he would gladly go back to being ignored for all of eternity if it meant that she wouldn't have to feel what she was feeling now.

Her eyes glimmered, fresh tears sliding down her cheeks as she hesitantly held out her arms to him like a child, a faint glimmer of hope on her face.

He wrapped his arms around her and held her as she clutched him, she quiet sobs turning into loud wails as she cried out all her pain, all her fear, and suffering, into his chest.

He soothed her, whispering sweet nothings into her ears while rubbing her back in circles as her crying slowed to a stop, shivering in his arms. She looked up at him, staring directly into his eyes, and for a brief second, only a second, he caught a glimpse of what she used to be, what she could have been, had things not turned out the way they did.

In another life, he might have loved the girl who used to be so full of wonder and happiness, who spread joy and laughter wherever she went.

But that girl was gone, broken into little pieces and shoddily put back together. Where once she wanted life and happiness, now all she wanted was relief and an end.

He smiled sadly down at her, and she closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around his neck. He lowered his head, and took in the girl one last time- the acceptance, the need, the lines of sorrow that marred her once joyful face- before he too, closed his eyes and leaned towards her.

Their lips met, and for a single solitary moment, Jack felt her happiness twin around his, her soul singing with joy and relief.

Then it was gone, carried away as her body turned into freshly fallen snow that swirled and twirled out the window and into the moonlit night.

The boy had watched him.

He watched as Jack Frost held his sister and took her away.

He watched the snow as it flew through the window and out into the night.

His sister was gone. He should be angry. Angry at the spirit who took her away.

But he knew that his sister had been taken a long time ago and couldn't fault the being who wanted to give her peace.

He came out of his hiding spot and Jack Frost stared at him, eyes ice cold yet at the same time holding softness and comfort.

Somehow, he knew he could trust those eyes.

He stated his request for the spirit, something he had wanted to do ever since he saw his sister collapsed on the ground, covered in blood and other liquids, as she cried her heart out.

Something he wanted to do for a long time, but could never carry out because of how weak and small he was.

"Make them pay."

He found them in a tent in the middle of a forest on Easter day.

The rage he had held in ever since he had met the girl, had completely burst.

He let his rage and anger take control of him and his actions and summoned a storm- a huge storm- that covered everything in it's path in leathal ice and snow.

There was no warning for the twelve men below. Only a moment of calm, the eye of the storm so to speak, before ice and snow rained down upon them, smothering them in its cold and unforgiving embrace.

And all the while, they were alive.

They were alive when their bodies slowly shut down. They were alive when their toes blackened and their skin became brittle and hard. They were alive when the ice rained down from the skies, piercing and cutting them as they tried to get to shelter, to get away from the raging storm that was ripping them appart. They were alive when the fear ate away at their hearts, the primal terror consuming what little common sense they had. They were alive as they slowly froze and bled to death, all alone where no one could hear them scream and plead.

The storm lasted for three hours.

All that was left were frozen patches of blood and flesh, scattered around the clearing, in plain sight for the horrified Bunny to see.

And Jack laughed.

When Jack Frost flew into his window and said that the deed was done, he hugged him and finally let lose the tears that he's been holding back for so long.

They were gone. They could never hurt anyone again.

He felt so happy at the news, and yet, it wasn't enough.

He was so tired. He wanted to see his sister, to be held by her again.

He looked at the spirit, and pleaded at him with his eyes to give him relief.

Jack Frost smiled at him sadly, and for a moment the boy felt panic, because he though the spirit wouldn't help him, wouldn't take him to his sister.

But then he felt the comforting coldness wash over him, felt his breath slow and his eyes close.

His final fleeting thought was to comment on how sad Jack Frost looked as he took him away.

Darkness surrounded him and he knew no more.

Bunnymund looked at the carnage around him with dark haunted eyes, and resisted the urge to throw up again.

In all his life, he had never expected Jack Frost of all people to do something like this.

It was horrifying what the kid was willing to do. Sickening. Wrong.

Not even Pitch Black would go to such extremes, and he especially wouldn't do this just as a cheap form of entertainment.

The look in Frostbite's eyes as he laughed at their suffering, at their deaths...

It was all a game to him, a sick, twisted joke. It was as if he...

Bunny's blood ran cold, and he felt as if his heart had stopped.

It was if he had done this before.

Had he? Had he killed people before? Was this a normal thing to him? Something he did whenever he was bored of playing pranks?

How long had this been going on?

He had to tell the other Guardians, before anyone else died at Jack's hands.

He gave the remains a final look and shuttered.

That monster...