Okay, so, I watched Ponyo. I liked it. Mostly because of Fujimoto. And because of the animation. And I like watching kids' movies, 'cause I'm a loser like that. Sooo, I was on deviantART surfing for pictures of Fujimoto (because I'm a fangirl like that), and I came across the suggestion that I should watch Taken for laughs. Because it actually is quite funny when compared to Ponyo. Liam Neeson plays the father, and his daughter gets kidnapped, and he rescues her with excessive violence. So now I'm thinking, because I do that sometimes, and I just couldn't resist writing a Fujimoto fanfic loosely based off of Taken. And this is the result. I have the first chapter written as well, but I won't post it unless people comment and say they want to know what happens next. Because I won't finish it if people aren't reading it, because I'm lazy like that. Of course, I might finish and post it anyway, simply because I want to. But that's highly improbable. I have other things to write. And schoolwork to do. So review! Or there's nothing else coming after this!
Taken
Prologue
The library was dark and musty, so silent one could hear the dust settling on the books. The air was chilled and still, unbreathing, waiting. The floorboards did not creak, the tread of spotless dress shoes across their dark wood soundless. The armchair in the center of the room emitted a faint, near inaudible sigh as a shadowy figure sank into its cushions. The figure allowed himself a faint smile and took a sip of his drink, reveling in the arcane hush of the library. His expression quickly changed to one of irritation as the library door opened with a creak, a shaft of light slicing through the bookcase. He coldly appraised the newcomer.
"My lord Vidar," said the intruder with a bow. "I greatly apologize for the interruption, but I have news I am sure you wish to hear. It's about the sea wizard, Fujimoto."
Lord Vidar leaned forward slightly and rearranged himself. He was listening.
"His daughter has turned into a human."
Vidar's face was blank as a sheet. Then a gleam came into his eyes.
The messenger smiled. "I thought you would welcome this information."
The armchair sighed once more as Vidar stood, swirling his drink, and walked over to stand next to the messenger. He turned his eerie pale gaze to the shorter man. The messenger raised his eyebrows.
Vidar's lips curled into a subtle velvety smile, entrancing and yet terrifying. It was a smile that promised eternity, promised pain, promised nothing. He placed a hand on the man's shoulder, then strode away, his black coattails gliding behind him like twin shadows.
This was good. This was very good. It would take a while – years, maybe – but it was sure, it was inevitable, it never failed to come about.
Lord Vidar would have his vengeance.