Hi guys, I have a new story for you. It's way darker than living in a mad house, I wanted something a little bit more serious than that, but there is some light relief in there somewhere. As when I suppose anyone starts a new story, i am extremely nervous about how it will be received.
So thank you anyone who reviews my other stories, and i hope you have a good read.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything, except the plot.
"The Devil is as Black as He Painteth"
- Theatre of Tragedy
The night was cold, the wind harsh against his delicate, almost feminine soft skin. No amount of clothing would make it less biting. He supposed he deserved the punishment, he supposed he was getting off lightly.
He was clad in his black cloak that he was well known for wearing since the start of the war. His blond hair covered by the hood of the cloak, that many associated with death. He was accustomed to the stares, comments, and the whispers that called him the angel of death. Few on either side dared cross him, oh there was the few simpering idiots sent to kill him, but they were long gone.
His cloak billowed behind him as he stalked along the streets, his shadow matching him step by step when he passed under a street light. Well, one of the few that wasn't broken. He sighed; the war had left almost nothing untouched. The streets of Bevelle were completely unrecognizable, all the buildings desolate and partially or fully destroyed.
These were dangerous times, not many people strayed to the main cities, especially without company, or some firearm. Many people had moved to the smaller islands for safety like Besaid, or Kilka. She was there. She was waiting for him. He could still see her bi coloured eyes watching him as he left. He knew, she thought she would never see him again. Would she even want too now? The blond man took out a cigarette, bought it to his lips, and plucked a lighter from his cloak and lit it. His hands rough and calloused from the murders, and hard living; He was a monster.
It was an image he cultivated carefully, known for his cruelty and staggering rise to power among even the most dangerous assassins, especially in those first uncertain few years.
The war had started when Yevon wanted Al Bhed's to register, so they could keep an eye on them, especially if they were living anywhere that wasn't the new home, or the desert. This resulted in a revolt against the church; the Al Bhed's leading this. The Ronso were used as an almost army by the church, when they realized they were being used, they also revolted.
It broke into a full out war, many were killed, many were hurt, but everyone's home was broken in someway. By family's being torn apart by conflicting views of what was right, by houses being destroyed, by people losing faith. Everyone lost something.
He wanted to be with her, he wasn't even from this world but he had his own things he had to take care off. He knew he had to fight. He wasn't even sure if he was fighting for the loss of both parents, his loss of a perfect life with Yuna, or the loss of his little sister, Rikku. When he had disappeared for those two years, all those years ago. She had gone to live with the Al Bhed and help rebuild their home. She became close with them, especially Gippal.
So when she heard they were revolting, loyal to the end; she packed up and left their perfect life in Besaid behind, to help the people who helped her when she needed it the most. She knew of course that Yuna would be well protected; as much as it broke her heart to leave her Yunie, she knew she'd be fine. However, she didn't count on him going to fight for his cause, whatever that was. He still hadn't figured it out yet.
He had gathered a small, but elite group of men who wanted to fight for their cause also. They had followed him unquestioned, and thus since elected him as leader. They had called themselves Nex Veho. He wasn't sure what to do with his new found power at first, but had settled into the role rather well after a short time. He was cruel, quick witted and merciless when the time called for it, he was even ashamed of some of the crimes he'd committed. He needed to stop the Yevonites destroying Spira, or taking it over again. He hadn't realized it yet, but he loved the power and authority that came with his position, and title. 'Angel of death.'
Everyone knew if Tidus Pryde came to your house, or shack. You were dead, straight away. Sometimes he savoured the death, sometimes it was quick. Either way, it was painful. He should have guessed then, that he wasn't fighting for good anymore. But he had nothing to stop him, or even anything serious to oppose him. It had been so long since he'd even caught a glimpse of her, heard her voice. Of course, Yuna had been working hard to stop the war, to stop the destruction and violence. He had thought he had been on her side.
Walking past the broken houses, he came to stop at the end, very close to where the temple used to be. The war wasn't still raging, it had simmered; everyone knew it was coming to an end. But still assassins roamed the streets; murder, rape and hunger were rife. People didn't dare go out at night, even in packs. This was anarchy of the worse kind; people feared the end of the war, more than the war. Who would take over? What would they be like?
He stopped, silent and still. He waited, he knew people were hiding out in this building, had known for a while. It bothered him, why hadn't they moved on yet? What was keeping them here? He also knew there was group of rebels, formed of different racial and religious groups. Making a name for themselves, the fancied themselves the new Crimson Squad. He smirked; he may not have been around at the time of the Crimson Squad but he'd heard enough stories from Gippal about the things he'd experienced, he also took down Nooj when he'd tried to protect the women that had wronged him. He knew that the Crimson Squad were the elite, the very best. Now they were nothing but a distant memory, a dream from a far. What took over was far more sinister. Even the name Nex Voho was deadly.
He knew that when he entered the building, if they were any good would sense him and make a break for it. He needed some competition so if they stayed, he would make an example out of one of them. Just to give them a taste of what he was really capable off. He just hoped they weren't children playing some game, because it was a deadly game. One they were bound to lose.
Stalking confidently around to the back of the house, because he was far too important to sneak. He came across a window not broken, one that was pouring light from it. Stupid, he sneered to himself, who would dare have a light blazing especially at night when it was oh so dangerous. He then realized the light source was a fire, as there would be no electricity in this almost destroyed house. He could see about 6 people in the room, he couldn't be sure; they looked just younger than him. Still teenagers. He was nearing twenty two, not that old; they could be older and more powerful than him, but he had much more experience.
Experience they could only have nightmares about.
He smirked to himself, before walking through the door frame which held no door and into the room that held the 6 people. They turned to look at him, he still had his hood drawn so only the bottom half of his face was visible, he liked to think this was terrifying. He didn't say a word as they turned to look at him, he didn't have too. The terror was written clearly on every one of their sweet faces. The faces that should have been innocent, but had been hardened by the harsh war that had taken something from every one.
He heard their almost incoherent mumbles, calling him the Angel of Death. They all shrank back except for one. She, or possibly a he stood in front of the rest; almost protectively. He couldn't make out their gender, because they all wore masks that were commonly associated with the masquerade balls that Bevelle had held for Spira's royalty, and they were all covered with dark cloaks that swamped their figures to the point of being unrecognizable, just like everything else that the war had touched.
He instinctively thought that the brave or perhaps extremely foolish person was a boy as they stood so protectively and with a fighting stance. He couldn't help be amused by this foolish person, they clearly recognized him, that much as obvious.
He only spoke occasionally before killing, if it was a long death; he liked to taunt them. It had been a slow week; he could afford to spend a few hours here. Before he had time to even start forming a sentence, a person, presumably a boy because of his massive size at the back of the few poor people in front of him charged forward, awkwardly brandishing a knife. Tidus moved swiftly out of the way, grabbed the boys wrist that was holding the knife so tightly that he dropped the knife and whimpered.
Tidus smiled, "A little fight in you, I like that." He said, before snapping the boy's neck. Then he starting brushing himself down, his face screwed up in disgust at the fact that the boy had touched his obviously expensive coat.
"Then you're going to love me." Said the person at the front, baring their teeth.
Tidus raised an eyebrow, and laughed at this person's gall, "And you are?"
"You're worst nightmare." They replied without a second's hesitation.
Tidus laughed again, "You are clearly inexperienced with the ways of battle banter, that was so cliché."
"I'll give you cliché!" a person from the back declared vehemently, before charging forward, obviously not thinking this through, as they had no immediately obvious form of attack.
Tidus quickly grabbed his knife from his pocket, and stabbed the person in the chest, grabbed them and proceeded to stab them repeatedly until they fell to the ground, clutching their bloodied chest. They were many gasps of horror at this, a few sobs escaped from the four remaining. It was music to his ears.
Tidus raised his eyebrow again, "All you got? I'm actually disappointed."
The person at the front laughed, and then smirked. Something that gave Tidus a shiver, he had, had a few people laugh in the face of death but no one so much as smirk confidently afterwards.
"We haven't even got started yet." They said, pulling their hood off their face revealing long blonde hair that almost touched the small of her back. He blinked in surprise.
Something in the back of his mind sparked, and memories flooded his system; if he hadn't learnt to control his emotions a while ago, they might have overwhelmed him.
She smirked, "What's wrong Tidus, surprised to see me?"
"Little sister." He responded with amazement, any other time in his life; he would have felt ecstatic or even relieved, she was alive.
She was his blood, part of his very essence, but this wasn't her. The hyper, naïve seventeen year old with an almost childish disposition was replaced with a mature, cocky, almost twenty old with cold, hardened eyes. Her hair was long, and unstyled. Something that would have made the old Rikku recoil in horror. Her face, well what he could see was without a scrap of makeup, something that the old Rikku would have rather died than go without. Her childish stance was replaced with a defense one.
"Well spotted, Brother." She spat, with mock amazement. She was taunting him. He was furious.
"Well, I see someone has grown up a bit. About time too." He drawled slowly, taking out another cigarette and lighting it, causally. Taking his time, reveling in her anger that he was not the least bit frightened of her.
"Not protecting Yuna, I see. What? Left her for a life of crime? Trying to play rebel? And we're cliché?" she asked, hitting a nerve, his weakest spot with a few sentences.
He tried to stay nonchalant, pretend that it didn't bother him. But it did. She was taunting him; she was not frightened of him. He liked to think he had control of his temper, but his whole self control was shattering the more she spoke. He killed in cold blood, he was not known for his crimes of passion. His murders were metaphorically planned, they were controlled.
This was going to be different; he would kill her quickly and violently. Could he even kill her? She was after all, the only family he had. His only blood. He shook those thoughts away, of course he could.
Two of the remaining people tried to make a break for it, he growled. He despised cowardliness, they were dead before they reached the door. Hell, they were dead before they hit the floor. A bullet embedded in each of their skulls, their brains splattered across the back wall.
A whimper escaped the only other person, that wasn't locked in the fierce sibling rivalry, and a rivalry was exactly what it was. Neither knew it, but neither would back down first; even if that meant killing the other one.
"Rikku, I guess you're running out of luck." Tidus said, he tried to smirk; he really did, but he needed to find some way of putting off killing her without looking cowardly, and it wasn't looking good.
She glanced around, looking seemingly disinterested in the dead bodies of her friends. And they had been her friends, had been loyal to the end, evidently. And she had loved them dearly, she had replaced her original family of Yuna, Tidus, Gippal, and everyone else in Besaid with these strangers, she had tried to protect them. This had hardened her, she knew that to survive she needed to kill, she needed to hurt. She wanted revenge on the world for ruining her perfect little world.
For two years, her and her group had moved more than twenty times, sometimes finding solace, somethimes finding destruction but always being together. Now, it looked like an end of another era. She wanted to run to Tidus, embrace him, tell him she had missed him, how glad she was to see him. But he had changed; he was no longer just her brother, but a monster.
He killed people for a living, sometimes for amusement; she had heard.
"I don't think so." She said, smirking, giving the impression of being completely in control. She couldn't lose face now, especially since it was more than just pride at stake here.
Charlie, the only other person looked at her, something unrecognizable in his eyes and charged at Tidus, distracting him by knocking him over. "Run, Rikku!" he hollered.
She didn't need to be told twice, she wasn't cowardly, but she wasn't stupid either. She didn't want to die, after Charlie risked his life for her. So she ran, faster than she had ever ran before. She heard the resounding gun shot, and blinked back her tears as she headed towards the docks. There was plenty a place to hide there, she just hoped she could make it. She wasn't arrogant enough yet, to think she could battle him and win. She wasn't sure she had ever heard anyone to do it before.
No one had ever escaped the Angel of Death.
There's a nod to the Joker up there. since i adore him. Hope you like it. i really enjoyed writing it.
Review please? just let me know what you think, it means alot.