Okay, after another couple of months, here's the next part of the Mr. Left series! ;D I was pretty amused with this idea.
To all who have not read the previous five parts in the series (starting from Mr. Left), I highly recommend that you do.
I don't own Getbackers.
No Way Out, Mr. Left
By Aquarius Galuxy
The army of grey clouds tinted dull crimson hovers low over Shinjuku, stifling fingers of playful wind with a choking hold. It bears down on the sky and its buildings, on narrow brick-lined alleyways and a certain orange-lit car park nestled in the midst of drab apartment blocks.
Metal keys glint in the ghostly glow of streetlamps as they cut a smooth arc through still air, straining on a silver ring like dogs on a leash, before swerving sharply to land in their owner's palm with jingling thuds.
Lady Poison is triumphant tonight.
The shrouded form of her motorcycle, sidecar attached, makes a tranquil sight as she steps away from it without a backward glance. Confidence adds a spring to her gait, and she is unable to conceal the slight upward curve of her lips.
One day apart from Kagami Kyoji is all it takes for another plan to creep up the Transporter's short, skin-tight sleeve. The certainty of its success sends her heart on a giddy spiral. She wonders why the idea has not struck earlier.
All of three steps are taken when a sudden blunt clatter sounds from her side. Her heart takes the stumble she physically avoids. Stiffness settles into her joints like rust on iron, and she does not turn, because she is momentarily unable to. Gold and purple and white mock her from the corners of her eyes.
"I apologise for my rude departure last night, Lady Poison."
The smooth voice glides into her ears like chilled water. In that moment, her joints relax, and an impulse to strike him charges along her nerves. The arm hidden from his sight tightens with a slight jerk. She feels her fingers twitch.
But any rash action will put her plan to utter waste.
Lady Poison draws a deep breath and fixes her eyes on the cement pavement ahead. His cool, steady gaze scatters prickles over her skin, from the back of her hand, up the dark, thin scabs on her forearm. Purposefully silent, she takes a step forward, not turning once to spare him a glance. Anticipation hums in her blood.
Thin lips twitch upwards in mild amusement. The man takes two paces forward to match her seeming retreat.
There is something different about Kudou Himiko this time, he observes. Perhaps the witch's spell has backfired, and she is now a Pinocchio of her own undoing. There is a possibility, too, that things are not as they seem. His curiosity is piqued. The man leaves his guard a step behind as he ventures forward.
Sweetness catches his nostrils, teasing its way into his lungs in one intake of breath. The fragrance is an oddity in the night air. "This scent-"
His fingers freeze in mid-flex. And Kagami Kyoji finds himself the victim of an uncanny robbery.
A low chuckle begins to rumble from the marionette in the guise of a Lady in purple. She turns around slowly, nailing the hint of surprise in his eyes. Smug confidence glints in violet depths; full lips part in a gleeful grin. She takes a step in his direction, empty hands resting by her sides.
"Puppet Perfume." She raises a slender eyebrow. "Or have you forgotten?"
Another step.
Lilac eyes follow her every move. There is a lucid touch to his countenance as he waits for her to pronounce her judgment that tells of morbid curiosity. The temptation to deliver a swift kick to his shin breeds steely resolution in the Lady, to withhold from giving in to childish desires. She is a professional.
Instead, Kudou Himiko crosses the final stretch that puts her at an elbow's length from the man. He meets her eyes coolly, as if the assault she is capable of dealing is inconsequential. This underestimation stings her pride like razor-sharp particles of demon dust. Her heart gives a ferocious thump.
"Take this-" With a speed that is a far cry from Kagami Kyoji's under normal circumstances, she draws her right arm back and swings it forward. Air rushes by her skin, thankfully healed. The man remains a statue before her.
This time, her fist connects with soft flesh.
Kudou Himiko's short, wiry figure throws the average-sized man off-guard. But what the average man does not see is the lean form of Babylon City's ex-resident falling from grace in a clean arc. Strands of gold flutter and shade his eyes. With a heavy thud, he lands a few feet away, sprawled on the pavement like a discarded toy.
At this hour, the thick clouds are the only witnesses to Kagami Kyoji's defeat. Lady Poison trades the impulse to cackle with a quiet laugh. She pads over to the blonde like a hunter to his felled prey. Just one punch does not quite cover the humiliation from unexpected visits on the pretext of checking on a toy. And it most certainly does not make up for the stolen kiss seared into her memory.
"Get up," she growls. The man drags his feet beneath his body and straightens without so much as an attempt to resist her command. She does not see his eyes, nor does she want to. Deep inside, something tells her that Kagami Kyoji will not be snuffed out this night. But such an intuition is always worth turning a deaf ear on. Adrenaline pumps through her veins in little bursts.
"Go to hell, you bastard!" Her voice rings out into the empty car park. Kudou Himiko is so keen on the next skin contact her knuckles will make that she misses the tiny flex of fingers next to dusty white fabric. Her slim forearm makes a blurred streak towards his cheek, where an angry redness is proof enough of her victory. The thrill of the attack triggers a mild bloodlust along her arteries that the Lady is not quite aware of. She bares her teeth.
Something white darts upwards at the last second. It is so swift that her eyes only register the crisp sleeve as it pauses momentarily. She feels thin fingers grip her wrist, feels them exploit her momentum in a rightward yank. She finds herself tugged forward just as easily. A surprised gasp tears from her lips. Confusion sweeps the last threads of perceived reality from her fingers.
The gravity of the situation slams into her middle like a speeding truck as her balance tips out of control. Muted panic carves tiny ruts into her stomach. She succeeds in quelling a flinch as lilac depths bore into hers four inches away. Her heart stops.
This is not happening. She refuses to believe that the perfume has failed her. For a fleeting moment, Lady Poison wishes that she has fallen into Mido Ban's illusion instead.
"No one hits my face twice." The silky murmur induces a hypnotic lull she struggles against. A hint of amusement flits through his eyes. Heat emanates into her body.
And this proximity is the perfect opportunity for another strike.
Calloused fingers curl into a tight fist that arcs diagonally through the air. Kudou Himiko fires a tiny hope at a clear hit this time. Blood rushes in her ears. But something in her eyes must have told of her intentions, because her fist comes to a perfect standstill a hand's span from his cheek. Frustration manifests itself as a low snarl from her throat. Gold-tipped strands frame the glare she hurls at him.
"Such a compromising position we're in, aren't we, Lady Poison?" Warm breath feathers audaciously across her skin.
The silhouette of an unidentifiable emotion surfaces, does a mid-air twist, and dives back amidst the pounding in her chest. That traitorous presence disarms her. She thinks it might be the way her heart attempts to sing to another tune. And this is Kagami Kyoji's fault.
The Lady utters a curse and yanks at her arms, if just to test his grip. Her wrists remain shackled. Desperation brings her knee up sharply. Hurt him, her mind screams. She heeds it, because she trusts her brain more than her heart.
In a laudable imitation of a disappearing act, the man leaves her staring at the shadowed, concrete base of the apartment building. Cool air brushes over her wrists as relief slows her heart. She stumbles forward to regain her footing. There is a sudden presence by her side, even before she has retrieved her scattered bearings. Night creeps into the edges of her vision.
"Perhaps you will accept my apology more readily the next time," the same voice supplies helpfully from behind. She feels a light touch on the small of her back. Indignance claws at her throat.
And that presence exits the scene, leaving her skin tingling.
Even after a slow, quivering breath, Lady Poison is still unable to calm her frazzled nerves.
-X-
Any suggestions for improvement? Please tell me!