Hi, this is my new story, a Creed/Train fic, Liquid Love.
It's set in a world more modern then Black Cat's and it follows Train Heartnet as he finds his way to a new kind of independence. Poor Train is framed at the organization he kills for. Somehow he'll have to balance escaping millions of follows, a stalker and living in the world outside. He's naive but in all the wrong ways, never drunk, never kissed, never lived. With the help of some friends can he finally break the collar and find his real reason to live. Poor Train, finding a job at cafes with only the job experience of a hired hit man will be hard...

This is the prologue hope you enjoy and for those of you who know my other story, don't worry I'm writing the next chapter now. Almost done.

Disclaimer: I don't own Black Cat or any of it's characters, Kentaro Yabuki does. This is a fictional story that I gain no monetary profit from. Yippey...

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Prologue

The first time Train Heartnet found it laying on his door step he wasn't concerned. It hadn't occurred to him that it was placed there specifically for him. That it was the first souvenir of what was soon to come, a catalyst to his imminent future and a connection to his dark past.

At first he disregarded it as misplaced, that it was meant for someone else but mistakenly left at his door.

It would be an easy mistake to make since Train lived in an apartment block with numerous other people. There were many floors, many numbers and many doors to mix up and Train thought it was just luck that brought it to his.

He also imagined it could be a joke. One meant as a sarcastic snipe at his anti-social behaviour, one focused on creating an imaginary admirer probably planned by his neighbours. Lately they had begun hating Train, calling him a freak in the corridors and attaching wonderfully cheery notes to his door. He saw that subconsciously they realized he was different, a wolf in lambs clothing and they made sure Train felt the sting of humanity's cruelty.

It hadn't always been this way. When Train had first moved in they'd been welcoming, even accommodating but as time went by and Train avoided his new neighbours they seemed to grow angry and harbour resentment for the one who made their family community seem just that little bit weirder.

He sometimes mused over the possibility of friends, here in his apartment block. It might have been possible if his chatty neighbours didn't sleep when he was awake and if he didn't sleep when they were at their day jobs. He was nocturnal by nature, a simple life choice often made when you're in hiding, but not one the ones he regretted.

During the night Train continued life under the cover of darkness and, with the help of thick curtains slept through the daylight. The lack of contact made an emotional attachment impossible but made Train's hiding easier.

Train was in hiding from his previous workplace, a nice and egotistical organization of over three million. Train wasn't sure how he ended up running for his life but he was pretty sure he was set up by someone who didn't want him around anymore. So Train was stuck in a small suburb, living like a common house cat until he could figure out who set him up. It wouldn't be with over three million employers wanting to kill him but Train didn't have anything else, killing for Chronos Corp was all he knew.

He picked up the misplaced object before bringing it inside. He doubted it was his but still, he nestled it in one of old vases he was gifted before his neighbours had given up on him. He didn't get gifts anymore and he wasn't the type to go around buying himself flowers, so the vase was in a permanent state of disuse. It seemed fitting for the two awkward gifts to sit together, neither particularly his but such things usually made their way into Train's life. Train didn't like to collect the unwanted things but somehow he did, just ask the tens of cats that knew the roof walkways to his window.

Train filled the vase while checking the clock, he'd gotten up early so he could buy some milk before looking for work but it was even earlier than he'd intended, three, just after noon. He needed to find a job to start making some cash but he didn't feel safe enough to go out during the day, unfortunately though Train had run out of milk which was the one thing he couldn't live without.

He put down the coffee cup, contents now dispensed into the vase on the kitchen table and grabbed a jacket. He checked over the holster at his leg, pulling out Hades checking it over and putting it back when satisfied.

Train's old job required the use of a weapon, his was called Hades, a single action revolver. Most people in modern society who use guns these days use a semi-automatic pistol but Train only trusted his gun, though it was heavier than most it had never let Train down. He loved his custom made revolver, made from the strongest material known to man, Oricalchum. It was the simple but strong design that kept the weapon by Train's side despite the memories it contained.

Those memories were hard to deal with, better left under the conscious where they could be forgotten until Train's mind was too quiet to ignore the voices. Better to think about other things until the images were cold, worn down and coffee coloured like many rolls of old parchment.

This was how Train got through days now, slowly focusing on everything but the slideshow of himself, focusing on hiding, living and on the nights often found around him.

Carefully Train locked his apartment keeping the key on his person. He wiped some sweat from his brow and strode down the numerous stairwells, hearing the unsettling sounds of the daylight.

With Train's lithe body he could easily jump several steps on his way down if he wanted, but that wasn't really the normal behaviour of a casual 23 year old. Blending was a top priority in Train's situation, not that he any good at it.

Today was different though, Train was tired of hiding, he just wanted to go out and have some fun. He'd been stuck in that apartment for two months and Train's patience was wearing thin. His money was gone and he need to find a job quickly but he worried about being seen out of the house too often.

Train slammed the door open, stepping into the late light. He would go and get some milk then wait until dark to look for work. He was hoping there would be a few night shifts somewhere.

He calculated the possible hiding and vantage spots for potential enemies before crossing the street, hand close to Hades.

Currently Train lived on the top floor of a five floored apartment block. He was renting the corner flat under a fake name, a good advantage for watching the intersection and possible traffic outside.

The neighbourhood was calm but somewhat posh, an urban, residential area close to a police station and a supermarket, a great location for quick trips for milk and a reasonably safe area from crime, a place that was as boring as Train was trying to be. Perfect.

The streets were packed with tight brick buildings, and gardens in this urban area were none existent. The colour scheme was mostly red and brown, which radiated an excruciating heat in summer. It wasn't a very pretty place but give it long enough and it could grow on you. Mostly, Train just loved the close roofs, great for jumping and sneaking around.

Children often played on the roads, dashing out of the way of cars in gleeful abandon, giggling at the eloquent language of the drivers, throwing rocks and fighting with other groups of kids. There was a large community hall nearby that held dance classes and junior karate, nothing Train was interested in. In fact there was little about the area that was entertaining, very mundane but known for its accessibility in Halloween, for the parents who didn't want to walk their kids far at night.

Two blocks down was the supermarket, the bottom floor of a small shopping complex. It was the corner of a large street of shops, most of which were cafes and other equally redundant things.

The building was a large cream concert mass. A neon 24 hour sign hung in the window waiting for the sun to fall. This supermarket was the largest around and it saw hundreds of customers each day. Hopefully Train wanted to merge with the flow of each day, just another paying customer. Nothing to see folks, keep on moving.

Train knew the way to the chilled fridges too well. It was like a twisted escape route, a smash in case of emergency when Train needed milk quickly, which was quite often.

A cool whisper of frozen air kissed Train when he opened the refrigerator door to retrieve his prize. It was much appreciated since it was currently midsummer and as the radio had announced last night, around 102 Fahrenheit.

Train payed quickly, head low, better to not become a known regular.

The walk home was mostly down hill, a relief, and Train practically threw him self down it in order to get back to his air-conditioning. On the way he checked all of the cars parked along the streets, all of which had number plates and models he recognized. He'd been doing this since he arrived; it was a good way to make sure no one was parked outside, surveying him.

Casually Train climbed the stairs to his apartment, careful not to look out of place while he watched for any trouble.

He stopped at his door quietly and listened. Nothing stirred inside so he pulled out his keys and crouching down slid it into the lock. Nothing happened, no bullets rained through the wall over his head, which was why he was crouching, and to Train this was good enough. His policy so far had been no new cars, no sounds, and no bullets, safe.

Turning the key and hearing it lock made Train realize the door had been unlocked to begin with. It wasn't a very comforting idea. Perhaps, he thought silently, the policy should include the door being in the state it was left in.

Chances are, he thought, someone violent was waiting inside, probably with a nasty weapon too. So his choices were limited, 1: Wait them out and catch them when they open the door, 2: Leave or 3: Go in guns blazing and kick there asses.

One would take too long and two was a pain in the ass so three it was.

Luckily the only other apartment on this level had been vacant since before Train arrived so he barely saw anybody walking through his area. Apparently an old lady and her cats had lived there, before the old lady had died and the cats had eaten her face. It was no surprise, with a lovely rumour like that, that no one had moved in, especially since the carpet had been ripped up and the paint still smell of the apartment's trauma. This suited Train fine since it meant less people to get involved in his life.

Carefully Train placed the milk bottles on the floor behind him, drawing forth his gun with his free hand. He looked down the hall, empty, then at Hades' chamber, full. He was ready.

With sure motion he turned the door knob, thrust open the door and rolled out of cover, pointing his gun through the door way. His vision settled in a fraction of a second and he could easily see the lounge room and kitchen, which were empty.

He strained to hear anything inside but it was as quiet as death, ironically enough. Slowly Train pulled out of his crouch and moved through the door, closing it behind him but never turning his back on the room.

He could feel his heart thumping with adrenaline, like a small creature beating against the cage that was Train's ribs. It was a delicious accelerating feeling. One Train hadn't had in a while. His hearing sharpened and his eyes picked up the flutter of dust so easily, he felt a moment of being alive again. He was made to be a predator, loved being a predator, a monster even.

Train moved throughout his apartment slowly, methodically. Turning the corners sharply and kicking doors open he made his way to the other rooms, raising Hades protectively.

Trapped in the trance of old ways, he combed the whole building, even checking the locked window and the shower but he was alone. There was no one here anymore, just Train.

Returning back to the kitchen Train's skin was still prickling but the adrenaline was fast gone and embarrassment had begun to set in.

"Jeez…" He crumbled, raking one of his hands through his hair while still holding Hades.

Train felt stupid now that the excitement had faded. He'd been so dramatic it was almost funny.

He was sure he'd locked the apartment when he'd left so what the hell was going on?

Perhaps he had finally lost it after spending such a long time being bored and out of practice. Maybe Train was relaxing too much in this suburb. Forgetting to lock a door was a pretty careless thing to do, a stupid one too, especially for the notorious Black Cat.

Fuming and muttering Train took Hades with him and collected his milk from outside. He took the cap off one of the glass bottles outside, checked the hallway and then downed it on his way back in.

Train closed the door behind him and noticed for the first time a change that had not been noticed earlier. The vase he had prepared less then an hour ago had changed. Before it had held a single red rose, the misplaced gift he'd found on the doorstep previously. Now, however, it was full with more red roses, quite a few in fact.

Quite stunned he'd missed it earlier, Train moved forward to take a closer look. Each of the flowers was in full bloom, beautiful and blood red, a very unsettling truth that someone had been in Train's apartment touching his things.

Someone had been inside and left him a rather obvious message. One stating he'd broke in once and could do so again. It made Train's blood boil and he swore.

Train decided he'd check the roses over once he'd put the milk away and checked his other belongings first. Milk first, check for a flower bomb later he thought, snorting to himself.

A slender man, light hair, a perfectionist, caught a glimpse of Train as The Black Cat put away his milk. He smiled up from the street, relishing in the simple contact with his beloved. It was just a small glance but it was enough to set his heart alight with passion.

Tucking silver strands of hair behind his ear he turned, facing away from the building, his long coat fluttering in the hot wind.

"For you Train. Don't worry, I won't let them have you ever again" He whispered, grinning as he made his way down the street and out of sight.

Thankyou. Tell me if you like it, though there's never much in prologues, still, hope you enjoyed.

Falling Into Colours.