Sin Investment

PART I

It was a black and white moving photograph. The subjects' very essence forever and frozen in time, but yet still in fluid movement. A monochromatic contrast that aspired to be as photography was in the past. It was artistic, but somehow managed to reflect reality...well, almost.

Peace had captured Gilbert and transported him to some surreal image of his past. Everything was blurry and drained of colour; any sounds were soft and gentle, comforting yet not entirely there. Among them he could make out the most important sound.

"Hey Gil. Come on, follow me!" He could only just make out the smile that was carved on his friends face. "It won't be any fun without you, you know..."

Everything was a blur; though he sensed the long thick grass that reached his fingertips, and the air around the figure in front of him. The sky was bleached white; it must have been a bright day. There was a slight breeze in the air, which Gil couldn't seem to feel at all. The endless plain of grass waved periodically, his master's hair blown across his young face, a blonde shade lighter due to the sun's rays streaming through.

The young Vessalius boy looked at him through dark grey eyes; the bright emeralds that Gil had become so used to appeared dead. The hand that grasped his seemed non-existent, leaving Gil feeling slightly numb, trapped in some kind of surrealistic memory. Laughter echoed for almost an eternity as he was pulled through the grass. A disappointing sense of happiness long gone swept over Gil as he was led to some unknown destination; he almost wished he could run alongside his master for an eternity, but somehow he sensed that this could not be true.

And he was right. The person he was so devoted to stood still; a grey statue in front of him, still firmly holding his hand. A sudden ripple travelled through each grass root on the never-ending field, vibrations were sent from the soil through to the tips of each blade. An echoed thud overflowed the atmosphere. The heavy, edgy feeling of caution took over the previous emotions of Gil. He held his breath, attempting to heighten the rest of his senses within the cold black and white film he was stuck in. Another thud, stronger than the last, confirmed that danger was approaching. The grip on his hand tightened severely, surpassing Gil's numbness so that he could experience an element of inescapability.

"I'm so sorry, Gil..." The bitter voice mumbled, causing curiosity to get eh better of Gil. Twisting himself around, he made out what was the cause of his fear.

A pair of pointy ears struck through the fake white light, multiple wires cut through the air, and four paws stomped down the grass so that it was almost engraved within the earth.

It was nothing less than a giant cat. A panicky fear struck him, as he attempted to tug himself away from his friend's grip. Five more thuds, the cat wasn't far now. Gil was getting desperate, using his other hand to try and force himself free.

"H-hey..." he managed to stutter.

"I'm sorry, I can't let you go." His friend's voice replied.

Realising that freeing himself was not an option, he turned and looked at enormous monstrosity that met his eyes.

"Mrreeeeeooooow!" It screeched at him, the monochrome image reaching the point of absurdity. Yet Gil still predicted that this was the end for him...No, not just him, but for his master as well. This was the worst scenario that he could ever have imagined.

"N-n-nno, no, nooo... no, come on, hey!" He frantically tugged at half-existent clothing, trying to get his one and only friend to move.

The cat stared back at him through its dead grey eyes, and increased its pace.

"Don't, No! Nooo! ..."

***

"OZ!" He managed to yell at the top of his lungs, his voice causing a gaudy fake print to fall off the wall. Waking up with a start, he found himself on the floor. His skull stung from the headachy pain caused by the descent from a bright blue swivel chair, his head only just knocking down the paper recycling bin. A pair of clean white Doc Martens approached him, this; and the quiet whir of his computer, gave him the first signs that he was out of his nightmare.

"Well, well, well." A red eye looked at him disapprovingly, though a smile suggested that he was about to be made fun of. "He's only been gone a week and you're already slobbering over him, and on my desk too! Hmm, you know that employees can walk in here any second, it'll look bad on me if you're caught slacking off, understand?" He sighed. "Gilbert-kun, I've just gotten you out of the Nightray Transport Association, and this is how you repay me, eh?"

Gilbert sat up, running a large hand through his dark locks, even though he knew it would have no healing effect on his headache, and looked way from his colleague, staring off at the water cooler in the corner.

"Nonsense. It was you who put me there in the first place Break." He mumbled.

"Ahhh! Not exactly, I merely suggested you, and luckily, your brother took the bait." Break explained.

Brother. Gilbert couldn't understand the meaning of the word. His only family member was the person who he despised being around the most.

"And you managed to secure an important asset, just as I told you to. Doesn't it feel good to have done the most rightful company a favour? You've done well just to get a temp job here y'know..."

"I know." Gil answered in a huff. His only reason for staying employed in the Pandora Organisation was so that he could fill the time before Oz got back, secretly he wanted nothing to do with it, or Break for that matter. He finished massaging his own scalp before turning back to look at him. Gilbert already knew that Xerxes had a bizarre sense of formal dress and this day was no exception. Slim purple pinstripe trousers caught the eye first, the hems covered by his strange choice in footwear. A white shirt showed promise of some sensibility, if it weren't for the black suit jacket that seemed to have been thrown on in haste, only covering one of his shoulders. Gil could barely believe he was taking business advice from a man who dressed likethat.

He stood himself up, brushing off any dirt (not that there could be any from the plain, perfectly vacuumed carpet) from his own trousers. The dark material felt rough as he quickly slid over it with his hands. "What did you want with me anyway Break?"

"Just passing on the message. Oz is due back in only three days..." Only three days? Gil thought. Days seem to drag on forever without Oz, particularly when he was stuck in a boring office block.

"...and me and Miss Sharon are going to meet him at the airport Thursday morning, I'm assuming you'll want to tag along?" There was a cold tone of uncertainty in his voice.

Gilbert reacted quickly to the question. "Of course!" He exclaimed without hesitation.

"Well, there's a bit of a problem with that... see we were simply going to get a taxi to the airport, but the numbers don't add up. There'd be no room for you after Oz and any luggage are in."

Any luggage? He repeated to himself, wondering what exactly Break was suggesting.

"So we're going to need your connections if we want a larger vehicle...and Vincent will do whatever you ask of him right?" He smirked, Xerxes knew how to cause trouble and he wasn't afraid to start it, even in the business world. Gilbert had already made his dislike of Vincent clear to him, so his reaction came of no surprise.

Gil gasped. "No! Anything but that! Are you sure you can't get Reim to drive us there or something??"

Xerxes laughed to himself, "We'll have to see about that..." he said as he made his way to the plain wooden door. He walked through the doorway, closing the door two.

Gilbert sighed and sat back down on the padded chair, thankful for Break's disappearance.

"Oh! And by the way..." His voice travelled through the small gap between the door and the doorframe. "Clean up your own mess will you?" Break's voice rose with annoyance, referring to the gaudy print that had smashed on the floor and the trail of papers left after Gil had awoken.

"This is MY office."

The door slammed. Gilbert took a deep intake of breath. His stress levels were rising. A quick glance of the clock added to his dread.

Office hours were nowhere near over.