This story took a long time to come into being. I've wanted to begin this project for a long time, but I just never got around to it. I wrote bits and pieces of it, but just left it to the side. I happened to revisit not that long ago, and I found myself suddenly full if ideas! It then became my main work, taking quite a bit of my time... writing and deleting so many times. Bah! Well, this is the first chapter, enjoy.
Chapter One: Rain-soaked Guilt
"I hate rain." Hagan said to no one in particular.
Hagan was walking down the dirty streets of London late at night. It was indeed raining hard on this night, and the water ran down the sides of the streets, carrying the grime and dirt of city life with it. He was walking to a Syndicate building in London to report the success of his most recent mission. He had been sent to kill a detective that had overheard a conversation not meant for his ears. He knew nothing else about the man he had killed. It was as usual for him: he wanted to know nothing of the target's personal life or anything other that where they were and what they looked like. He never wanted to know about the target's personal life. They were intended victims, not humans, not people. They had no lives, friends, family, or goals; and they had no future. That's what he told himself, anyway. The mission ended with two sharpened wooden chopsticks in the target's throat, one opening his jugular, and several confused guards. As always, success. He was always successful when it came to killing.
The rain fell harder, reducing his visibility and making him miserable. He shook his rather long black hair, trying in vain to stop the water running into his eyes. It had been in a loose ponytail, but that had come undone in the accursed rain. .
"This is absurd, I'll drown out here before I make it." he muttered.
His clothing was soaked and he was miserable.. His gi, a simple white affair with his family's crest on the left side of it and flowing black lines and swirls adorning it, was dripping water and soggy. His gi was tied with a black sash, indicating skill in martial arts, but that was trying to come undone from slipping while wet.. He wore simple rubber sandals, gray in color, and those were the only things on him not soggy, besides his weapons.
He spotted an abandoned building on a street corner and ran to it, splashing all the way. It had the boarded up windows and the missing doors so common to these buildings. He decided that it would be best for him to stay here for a while to wait out the rain, and he and walked in. He immediately heard shouts coming from the back of the building and ran over. A shabbily dressed man was hitting a young girl, no older than seventeen and shouting obscenities at her.
The girl had long blond hair, somewhat disheveled, and put up into a ponytail. She wore a plain white shirt and simple blue pants. She was no taller than five and a half feet or so. Fear was evident on her face, and she was cowering back from the grimy man.
It was too common a sight to him in his line of work. One walked with the darkest and most unclean and killed the same ones in an instant later in his line of work. Part of him wanted to kill the man and save the girl, give her the life that this man would take, even if he didn't kill her now... but such was not allowed for him. He owed the Assassin Syndicate his life, his sanity, and his future. He was their killer, one of many, but loyal. Mercy was not something that he was supposed to know anymore. Besides, the whole world was dying anyways. With the Holy War over, and Justice sealed, humanity was becoming its own killer. It had taken the Gears' place as its own executioner. Humanity was doomed, and he had come to accept that he was part of the cause as much as the solution. One girl made no difference alive or dead anyway.
The first chopstick sunk into the man's forehead, the second into his throat. The man gurgled some unintelligible response, and died immediately thereafter.
"What am I doing...?" he whispered angrily at himself, looking at his hands for a long moment before looking back up..
The girl fell to the ground, crying. Hagan felt a mix of feelings seeing her like that. He didn't know what to make of it.
He hesitantly walked over to her and asked "Are you alright?"
It was a stupid question, but this was new to him, saving someone without a contract. He then suddenly realized why he had saved her: her suffering resonated with his. The pain and helplessness she felt had stirred old, painful memories he had of a prison, whips caressing his back with mock love. It had happened before, such a resonance, but never before had he acted in it... he didn't know why this time was different.
"Th-thank you. I'm... I'm alright now. Who are you?" asked the girl. Her voice still shook, but she was trying to act less afraid.
He snapped out of his thoughts. "Ha..." he began to say, but then realized that his real name would get her killed. "Harial. That is my name. Rest a while, I'm waiting out the rain here." he said with kindness in his voice.
That also was new for him. He had memories of kindness, but his new life had shown him none of it. He, for the first time, began to wonder if all was as bad as it seemed. After all, he had just preserved a life, rather than killing one. Hope...?
An hour passed. He had moved the dead guy out of the way and sat down. Little was said, as the girl slept most of the time, recovering from her ordeal. Hagan looked out only to see the rain falling as hard as ever. He walked back in and sat down. He allowed himself to drift off for a bit, confidant that he could react to anything that could happen. After a little while, he was awoken from his half-sleep by a shout into the building.
"Hey bro, you done with her yet? Was she any good?" the voice said, cruel amusement in it. Hagan could tell the voice belonged to a male in his early twenties.
He immediately realized what had happened here. These guys had abducted this girl and taken her here for their enjoyment. Anger welled up in him, although he wasn't totally sure why. This wasn't any of his concern, but he was involved now, and he wanted to protect her. He then felt his old training kick in. These men were just targets, and he now had a mission. That was a mistake.
With dread, he felt the other side of him come out. His anger, his happiness, all of it was replaced by a metallic, cold... unfeeling calm. Kill or be killed. The targets would no doubt try to kill him for killing their associate. They would have to die. His other side, the cold predator, the slayer of men, the regret-less and compassion-less thing that was man but not man, emerged whenever he was enraged or his life was in danger... or when he had the chance to kill targets mercilessly.
It was the product of an only somewhat successful restoration of his sanity by the Syndicate after his being found by them in that prison. It was the part of him that was born from the abuse he suffered there, as a toy for the guards' amusement back then, and it only cared about killing. Not for any perverse amusement or evil goal, but just to prove his own worth in blood. Not only for that perverse reason, but the less people there were, the less pain they would inflict on him later... as all people did.
There were four of them outside of the building, armed with knives and swords. One even swung a chain. Threat assessment: no danger. The first one fell with two chopsticks embedded in his skull. One down. The other three looked around in sudden panic. The second one fell in much the same way, but they found his position, throwing from a window in the building. Before he could ready another chopstick, the last two charged into the building. He ran back only to hear the girl's shouts and the men grunting. He looked over from a crate to see them holding her in front of them as a shield. The man left not holding her fell with a chopstick in his forehead.
"I'll kill her if you do anything!" yelled the last man, holding a knife to the girl's throat.
He carried her out of the building slowly. Hagan emerged from his hiding spot and walked up to them openly. His gaze held no anger, no rage, no regret. The rain fell hard and the water was a faint red color from the first two men he killed. He could hear the rush of the water as it ran down the side of the streets, though this was lost on his killing side. The whole rest of the world was lost on the monster inside, as it only saw targets and blood. Suddenly, a splash sounded in the air: a body hit the streets and interrupted the water's flow. The water near the body turned red and flowed down the street, proclaiming death. The man looked at the girl's body, a single chopstick showing through the back of her once smooth neck.
"Why...?" the scared man breathed, still holding the knife where the girl's neck was.
"She was in the way." Hagan responded coldly and released another chopstick.
The man fell, dead from the wound to the forehead. The rain was very hard this cold night, and the streets flowed with a red river. All targets eliminated... mission complete.
Hagan suddenly snapped back to his real, old self. He looked around the red street, the bloody water flowed like streamers, almost like the ones that were hung from windows in celebrations, proclaiming doom down the currents. He looked to the girl, dead with a look of shock frozen on her face.
"What have I...?" he whispered as he touched a hand to his lips.
He keeled and touched her. He pulled back red hands, marked by his actions. Grief filled him, a new feeling, but he shed only one tear for her life and her future, both lost. He waked away, feeling grief, but trying to rationalize it away.
"She would have died anyway, right? If not by me, then by those men, right?" he tried to tell himself, but it sounded hollow.
One more tear fell and he wondered if it was for her or for himself, unable to grieve and feel true remorse for his actions anymore. A part of him cried for her, and for himself, having killed his own past innocence again...
That was a week ago. Hagan hadn't yet reported to the Syndicate, as he was still very troubled by that encounter with the girl. He didn't even know her name, and yet... she was dead. By his own hand, no less. Many had fallen thus, but this was somehow different. He felt... something new about this, something that made him wonder. Had she a family to call her own? Would she be missed? Was there a love in her life whom would be crushed by her demise? All these questions flowed through his mind as he sat in his cheap hotel room bed in thought. All of these questions were new to him, but something about that girl had awakened some lost humanity within him, a part he had thought dead.
He knew that he had to report to the Syndicate, or they would come after him, but yet... he couldn't. All of his loyalty and training went against what he was doing, but this newly awakened morality of his would not be silenced. He had never enjoyed killing like many of his fellow assassins did, but he did the job out of loyalty and a grand sort of pessimism, that no one really mattered, as everyone was going to die eventually. He had never hated it either though, and regret was new to him. No matter how he fought it, guilt shook him to the core. He knew that he was little good to the assassins right now, as he was, crippled by guilt now. Perhaps there was no point in returning, like this anyway.
He had no missions, no home, no motivation, and no obligations outside of the Syndicate. He did have quite a bit of money on him though, as the Syndicate paid well to those who are loyal. It was all blood money, he knew, each World Dollar garnered through the killing of another being. That too had never bothered him before either, but now it seemed that all of his rebuilt life, fragile and precious as it was, was under attack from this new voice in his head. The worst part was though... he couldn't ignore it. Every time he tried to rationalize it all away, that girl's face would haunt him again. In his sleep, while he was eating, and even while he was meditating and training, her voice and face accosted him when he tried to return to the assassin mentality. He just wanted to be rid of her, but at the same time, he wanted to remember her and follow the voice of morality. It was driving him crazy!
He smiled at that irony of the thought, as he was already somewhat crazy, with that built-in killer inside of his mind. His mind had been too far gone from his time in that prison. He couldn't remember the worst parts at all, thanks to the Syndicate's best psychologists and magic users, but the less gruesome parts haunted him regularly. Whips, burning iron, and daily beatings... and whatever he couldn't remember, all had broken his mind before they had saved him. It had been an accident, of course, as they had wanted to rescue an assassin incarcerated in there, but the man had died and Hagan had been moved into that cell. They had taken him and remade him, trained him, and turned him into their tool... He had been given a new life among the best killers in all of the world, and he had a place that respected him, and a trade that people feared. The main side-effect of his past was that he was unstable. Even the best couldn't totally fix him. 'It' was always there, waiting to come out and kill.
That was all it seemed to want, to make him kill. It wasn't a separate personality, but a total change in mind-set and thought processes. He lost all emotion, and had then only the desire to kill. Not savagely, but tactically and efficiently, like a good assassin would. It was a very discriminate killer as well, threats first, targets second, and reminders of his past third. He detested it's presence... but it was there to stay. It seemed to him and to his doctors, that it was a defensive response to all of the abuse he had suffered in that prison, and that it was his subconscious mind's way of coping. Knowing that didn't make it any better though, and it was a pain. Well... that wasn't totally true. His fighting abilities were enhanced while in Its grip, and it was actually beneficial to release during an assassination, as it made him nigh unto unstoppable. But now... after It had made him kill that girl, he just wanted it to go away.
"I can't take this much more. I have to get on the move or I'll go insane... even more so than I already am." he mumbled to himself as he looked in the bathroom mirror.
He decided to hit the town for the day, as he was getting rather sick of the same walls all day and night. Even if he had to somewhat evade notice, he had to go out... go somewhere. He was beyond caring at this point. Also, the owner of the hotel was becoming suspicious of his reclusive guest, and Hagan guessed that it wasn't long before the authorities visited him. Not that he feared the average authority figure, as all he had to do was make a few veiled threats or bribes, and the average city guardsman would simply walk away. Either that, or he could show him the tattoo that was given to him by Zato when he finished his training and killed his first target unaided. Though it was not spoken of, many knew that symbol, a sword with an open eye in the handle guard, was a mark of a death-dealer. Few among the normal guards had the guts to do anything after seeing that.
No, it was those damn Holy Knights that got in the way. They were far too dedicated to such foolish and abstract ideals like love and justice to see the real state of the world that they lived in. They seemed to think that the world actually got safer with every so called criminal that they removed from the world. They failed to see that for every one that they stopped, two more took up the banner of crime and darkness, and that their fight was utterly futile. No matter though, as they were rarely sent out for "small fry" like him. He'd only fought one of their number once, and he had barely escaped with his life their skills weren't to be underestimated at all. He sighed and rubbed a scar on his left arm, given to him in that fight.
He left the inn, and walked the streets, keeping his gee close to his face, and his hands close to his weapons. He had left at the beginning of night, dusk... his favorite part of the day, when the sullen red of the sunset mixed with the darkness of the coming night. It was almost as if someone had stabbed the very day, and its blood ebbed across the sky as the day died. It always reminded him that nothing was forever. He knew that another higher class agent was active in the area: Mors. He knew little of this agent, except that his preferred weapon was magical in nature. Something morbid, that is all he had heard about it. He'd seen the agent once, but couldn't really recall much about how he looked other than raven black hair. Mors wasn't known for his tracking abilities, but more for his tactical combat abilities. He was a weapon that they used only when already drawn into an open fight.
Mors was a pet of Venom, and was probably much more skilled compared to the average assassin of his experience; however, he trusted in his superior training provided by the God of Assassins himself, Zato-1, and he believed that Zato's training was far superior to Venom's own. After all, Venom was Zato's subordinate. He really didn't expect to encounter Mors, or that Mors would even be aware of his delinquent status, but caution was key, and paranoia the only real friend of an assassin. No, his real threats would be in Holy Knights and senior Syndicate members, though the chance of running into either of these two was rare. Rare enough for him to clear his thoughts of it and roam the city.
Walking the streets of a city was the best way to et the feel for it, to understand its atmosphere and feelings. This night, he could feel that the city was tense, and it made him tense as well. He wondered what was the cause of this feeling. He knew that rumors of attacks and the like had been swirling around for weeks now, but this was more immediate... more in the now. He turned a corner into an alleyway, seeing only a few vagrants there. He caught his breath and walked on. Despite his newly realized morality, he couldn't help but feel that these vagrants, soul-less and weak, were just one sign that humanity was failing. He felt a twinge of pity for them, but merely sighed and kept walking.
He turned another nameless corner, only to see young girl being assaulted by some older guy, about nineteen... armed with a rare piece of tech... a gun. He didn't totally understand how they worked, as they weren't fueled by magic, the only real power he understood that powered devices like that. It was fast and deadly, he knew, as Zato had showed him one once, and how exactly it was a very lethal killing device. Zato shot it at one of his chopstick targets, utterly destroying it. Zato had refused to let him use it, calling it a soul-less weapon. He knew that the kid was more than he seemed to get a gun, as illegal as they were.
The guy was yelling something about how the girl had abandoned him and some group. She was yelling in response about how she had been given no choice, and that how she was so sorry. Hagan, all throughout his career as an assassin, had developed the ability to see the truth from the lies that most people speak. Only a master of the delicate art of lying could tell him a falsehood without him being able to see it, and in this case, he could tell that the girl was not lying about having no choice... Somehow, that was important to him, though he knew that it wasn't any of his business.
He was drawn first to her silvery-white hair. It was so unusual, and Hagan honestly hadn't seen hair color like that before in all of his life that he could remember. Her skin was likewise pale, which was offset by her black dress and shirt. She wore long black boots with multiple buckles on them. He had a silvery pendant around her neck, though Hagan couldn't get a better look from his angle. Her face was tear-stained, and this tugged at him.
The man was much less remarkable. He wore old and ragged jeans and a dirty white tee shirt. He had light brown hair that was chopped short, seemingly by a crude knife. He had rage and murder in his eyes, but also a twinge of sadness. The hand that held the gun trembled, but remained focused on her head.
Again, he had to decide whether or not to help a girl in distress or not. Rather than the argument between whether to aid or not, like it was before, this time it was whether or not he did more damage aiding than not aiding. He was unsure... as the previous recipient of his aid died at his own hands. Then; however, he saw the guy point the gun right at the girl's head, and he could see the murderous intent barely contained within his eyes. He had no choice then, because if he didn't help she would definitely die, compared to the chance of her dying at his hand. For some reason, her death would bother him, he knew it.
"If you want to live... leave her be. Shoot me instead. Go ahead, if you can." Hagan said, concerned about, but not fearing, the man's gun.
He was one of the best rookie assassins that the Syndicate had for a reason, and this wasn't his only experience with a gun. He was in for no surprises when the trigger was pulled. The shot was aimed at the sky, obviously meant to intimidate.
"Go away! This doesn't concern you!" the man replied angrily. His voice carried the notes of near maddening rage.
The girl's scared expression fortified his decision to aid for some reason. Something about her fear compelled him to help her. Perhaps... he could understand himself, and these strange feelings of guilt better if he aided her as well, but this time, not kill the girl. Also, he knew that the gun shout would summon the authorities, but not in time... his time as an assassin has told him that they were never in time.
"I think it does... you have only one more warning! Leave or die!" Hagan said, raising his voice just a little.
"You... you idiot! This is a gun! No matter how good you are, you can't outrun a bullet!" the man yelled at him.
He leveled the gun at Hagan's chest. There was a moment of calm and silence, then Hagan flicked his wrist. The gun fell to the ground, clattering across the street. The man was clutching his bloodied hand, a single chopstick protruding from between his first and second knuckles.
"I have no gun, but I am just as lethal." Hagan said as he approached slowly, intent in neutralizing the threat.
The man reached into his coat, but Hagan was again the faster of the two, and the man's other hand also took a chopstick in the knuckle. Hagan knew the man wasn't badly injured, and should he try to get his gun again, he could perhaps get a shot off, but he was confident that the man would back off with the pain he was in. There was no need to kill him.
"Go." was all Hagan said to him. The man scampered away, cursing all the while. He walked closer to the girl.
She was about fifteen or sixteen, by Hagan's own estimations. Now that he could get a better look at her, he saw the pendant he's seen earlier was a masterpiece of crafting, going in designs he couldn't follow. Her eyes were a emerald green color. He also noticed that she had an ear stud in each ear: a small silver dot on her small ears. She was... cute, he found himself thinking.
"Thank you... whomever you are." the girl said, her voice still quivering.
"I am Hagan Ko Lu, an... no... I am a homeless wanderer, good at cooking and fighting with chopsticks. Who are you?" Hagan said, unwilling to say that he was an assassin for the syndicate.
He was actually... afraid of her reaction to that. For some reason... he didn't want this girl to be afraid of him. He was rather confused by his own thoughts now, this was not like him at all. He shook his head, but it didn't help.
"I'm Alyssa Tenison. I'm a traveling artist by occupation. Thank you again for saving me... You're good with those chopsticks of yours. Where'd you learn it?" she said simply, and her voice was pleasant to him. It had a melodious quality to it that he liked.
Hagan could tell that she was normally a spirited girl, but now, she was quite a bit shaken up. For her to be regaining her composure this fast spoke well of her fortitude.
"I... am self taught, actually. I am basically a traveling cook by trade, and I've been attacked a few times, so I learned how to use one of the things that I'm around a lot." Hagan said, bending the truth a bit the truth.
All assassins learned to use weapons that were capable of being concealed openly or not thought of as a weapon if seen. Zato had used his own shadow, while Venom used pool based weapons. Hagan had taken up the chopstick as his weapon, being that he was a cook. His preferred weapon was everywhere in the places he worked.
The girl slowly got up from the ground. She was still looking around with suspicion in her eyes, but she seemed to relax.
A shot suddenly rang out from the shadows. Hagan felt a piercing pain in his chest, and it felt like fire burned within him. He jerked forward with a sharp gasp. He tuned out the pain almost immediately, but it was terribly hard. He grunted, and by instinct, threw two chopsticks back at the direction from which the shot came from. He heard a cry from a nearby dark alleyway. He, ignoring his own wound, ran over towards the ally. The man from before had shot him, as he thought he might... the fool. Now though, the man was almost dead, as one of the chopsticks had pierced a lung, while the other pierced his liver, and blood was running freely. The man's breathing was labored and wet sounding, meaning that blood had entered his pierced lung. The man's other gun was near him, but he made no effort to try to grab it, even in the face of the imminent threat in front of him.
"You went too far. I've never spared a person before... and I tried to spare you, the first ever, but you blew it. Now... it seems that I will have to kill you after all." Hagan said, menace clear in his voice.
"You... don't... under... stand... She..." the man began, but Hagan cut him off.
"She wasn't lying with what she said, I can tell. That doesn't matter though, as the choice has been taken from you." he said only.
Hagan pulled out a small knife, and slit the man's throat from ear to ear, killing him instantly. Alyssa ran over to the two, fresh tears on her face.
"Who was that?" asked Hagan, now looking at his rather bloody wound.
He ripped a piece off of his gi and tied it around the wound. It hurt like hell, but he could simply ignore the pain for a time, all a part of his training.
"We... he was a part of a homeless little street group I was with before I had to go away. He seemed to think that I had left them of my own choice, but the Knights had caught me stealing and took me away. I... I'm sorry you got shot. Will you be alright?" Alyssa said as she watched him bind the wound.
"Don't worry about it, I'll be fine. I chose this course, so I am responsible for the results." he said only, gritting his teeth.
The wound was bloody and painful, but not life threatening, as the bullet had passed through and nothing vital was hit. Still, he knew that he would need medical attention for the wound, or some kind of magical healing, thought that gift was rare.
"What was that strange tattoo on your chest? I saw it while you were binding that wound." Alyssa said suddenly, giving Hagan some pause.
He really didn't know what to say about it, and his rather sudden discomfort was apparent.
"Oh, sorry if I hit a nerve. You don't have to say." Alyssa said.
"Thanks. I'm sorry for not being so forthcoming." he said, actually very guilt ridden for having to lie to her.
"I owe you a lot for all of this... and you said you were homeless, right? Well... if you need a place to stay, I have one in mind. Also, that wound needs some help, and you got it helping me, so do you need a place?" the girl said rather suddenly.
Hagan was actually touched by the simple gesture. In the Syndicate, saving another member's life was either the expected thing or a bad thing, depending on why the agent was in danger in the first place.
"Yeah... I need a place to stay... thank you." was all he said.
He was unsure of this shelter, but he had little choice in the matter, as his wound wouldn't wait for him. He had no choice but to trust her.
He followed the girl through the dirty London streets, trying not let the throbbing pain of his chest get to him. She had a spring to her step that he found refreshing. Hagan was still on his guard though, as this part of London was rather dangerous at night, with both thugs and actual threats. He wandered along with her, really trying to take in everything at once, to make sure that no further threats would come along. Fortunately for them, they wandered away from any danger. They were now in the London Square, where Holy Knights were out in force. Hagan had heard, as had many others, that there was a rumor of some kind of attack on the city square, so the Holy Knights had come. What force would attack London, he didn't know, but that part of it didn't really matter to him. He was only concerned with the Knights.
"The Knights make you uneasy, I see." Alyssa said abruptly.
"Yeah... I don't trust them." he responded, actually telling the truth, though that was only a small part of the real reason.
"Is it because you killed Justin, that man whom attacked me?" Alyssa said slowly. Hagan noted that she was too curious about his past for him to cover up his assassin status without lying for much longer..
"No... that was obviously self-defense. I... just don't trust them, that's all." he said, his tone indicating that she was out of luck in getting information about that.
It was night time, so the Square had but a few normal people milling about it, and about five Knights on the patrol. A Holy Knight made his way up to Hagan, his eyes focused on the slowly growing blood-stain on his gi. The wound had bled through the bindings on it. The Knight had brown hair, the normal blue and white uniform of the Knights, and wielded a short sword, though now it was at his side. His eyes were as brown as his hair.
"You're wounded sir. Are you OK?" the Knight asked, compassion... and a healthy bit of suspicion, in his voice.
Hagan wanted to ignore the errant Knight, but that would only make him look more suspicious. The key to dealing with these people was to act normal, Hagan knew.
"Yeah, I'm OK. I just reopened an old wound, that's all. Don't worry about it." he said and smiled weakly.
Alyssa only smiled at the Knight, seemingly the innocent kid.
"Alright, but make sure you get that looked at. We do have an available medical facility you can use if you want." the Knight said.
"No, but thank you." Hagan said and began to walk away.
"By the way, I'm Roy Harnett. If you do go to the facility, say that I sent you and they'll take care of you." he said as he began to walk back to his post.
Hagan wanted to run, but the Knight's concern for him was... nice for a change, not being regarded as the enemy for once. As Hagan began to follow Alyssa again, he heard an unnatural scraping noise coming from underground. It was quite loud, like metal grating upon stone, and it seemed to come from the sewers. Roy looked back over at the sewer entrance, which was actually quite near Hagan.
"What was that?" asked Alyssa with a bit of fear in her voice.
"Something not good, judging from the Knights' concern." was all Hagan could say. Before Hagan could think about what to do, the metal cover of the sewer hole flew off into the air. Then, a monstrous form crawled out of the sewer hole. It was greenish in color, somewhat humanoid, with four arms, two legs, and a human-like head with large eyes. It had only small tufts of hair, all green as its sinewy skin. It was over eight feet tall and smelled of the sewers. Hagan saw the strange rune on its forehead.
"A Gear...!" Hagan breathed.
Hagan knew the power of the Gears well... After all, they did butcher his family in China when he was but a small child. His mother and father, a Chinese and an American, both cooks... and even his little sister, innocent of crime... all were killed by a Gear attack on his home city during the end of the Crusades. The city as a whole had survived, but many, many people had died. Only aid from a mysterious fighter wearing a heavy brown cloak had saved his city at all. He actually had to watch from a food cupboard he had hidden in as his family was ripped to shreds by the Gears. That event had driven him slowly insane. In his insanity, his aunt and uncle, his new caretakers, seemed to become Gears one fateful night, and he killed them both with a kitchen knife.
That event tossed his sanity entirely out of the picture and had necessitated his incarceration. Shock and fear were quickly replaced with anger and resolve, and he drew his special combat chopsticks. Lacquered and large, each being one and a half times the size of normal chopsticks, they were designed for close and deadly combat. They were crafted by the best in the Syndicate, and he could parry some of the strongest blows with them. Also, they were quite sharp at the ends, and he could even pull the ends off, to reveal stiletto blades on the inside. As Hagan stared the thing down, another one emerged from the hole as well.
"Alyssa, stay behind me." Hagan said.
He noticed that the Knights were all moving to attack as well. The Gears seemed to be waiting, though not oblivious to their surroundings. Hagan could see a feral intelligence in the eyes, but nothing he would call aware. No, these were simple Gears, under control of another being. Then, another one came up through the hole. Hagan looked to the Knights. All but the Knight called Roy Harnett had fear in their eyes. Understandable, Hagan thought, as the Gears were supposed to have been all sealed away or rendered dormant for all time with the sealing of Justice. Hagan could tell that these Gears were strong, far stronger than any of the people present now... though how they compared to his agility, he didn't know. Then, the near silence of the dormant city was broken by the sound of sirens, indicating that the attack was more widespread than just the London Square. Hagan heard Roy mutter curses under his breath, and Alyssa clung to him fearfully. Hagan unclasped the sharpened ends on his chopsticks, revealing the stiletto blades underneath. The ends fitted on the other end of the chopsticks, now working as handles for the blades.
"Hagan.. What are you doing?" whispered Alyssa.
"These are Gears, Alyssa. The only reason that they would be coming out like this is for an attack, and you can hear the sounds of battle elsewhere. We must be ready." Hagan said simply.
Hagan heard a scream echo from the distance, and he saw the glow of fire come from another part of the city. Yet, these Gears seemed to be waiting for something. One of the Gears looked right to Roy and spoke in a very feminine metallic voice, one that obviously didn't belong to it. The voice's tone was mocking and insulting, yet... seductive at the same time.
"You are Roy Harnett, right? Where is Ky Kiske?" the voice said.
"I... I'm not telling you! Find him yourself, if you can get through us!" Roy yelled back.
While the Gear's attention was away from him, Hagan saw the opportunity to attack and took it. He slid both of the very sharp blades right into the throat of the Gear, and ripped outward violently, actually taking the thing's head right off. It fell without another sound.
Then, the other two Gears attacked. One went for Hagan, and the other dove right into the Knights. Hagan dodged a powerful blow from two hands, but took another from the other two hands. His breath left his body, and he saw stars. He was able to roll away, though leaving Alyssa vulnerable. The Gear advanced on her, and she was paralyzed with fear.
"Shit!" Hagan cursed loudly.
He knew that there was no choice but to fight with all he had... but even that might not be enough to save her. The very thought of her dying brought great anger to him, but not in the way that It would emerge. Rather, his anger flowed out into what was one of his strongest and most powerful attacks. He, by thought alone, brought thin and very durable chains wrapped within the folds of his black sash, and connected them together with small latches on the ends of his combat chopsticks. Hagan's innate elemental affinity was water, and this attack pulled on that heavily, calling on the crushing power of the deep oceans.
"Pressure Chains!" he shouted as he loosed the weapons.
He had named the attack himself, after a particularly gruesome mission where he had been set up to die. He lived, and once he found out who did it, his anger at the set up was so great that he had loosed the attack on the traitor, crushing him to death... thus 'Pressure Chains'. The chains, led by the chopsticks flew fast, with a watery contrail to mark both of their flights. The two chains wrapped around the Gear's abdomen, and then the blades sunk into the neck of the Gear. It roared in rage and pain and tried to break the chains. Hagan then ran up to the Gear, while pulling on the chains, and grabbed both blades, giving them a tremendous pull, pulling both the blades and the chains. The result was an explosion of blood, as the chains had exerted a large amount of water pressure on the Gear as he had pulled them. The Gear's body gave under the pressure, cracking and tearing loudly, and Hagan was covered in blood.
"White Knight's Cross!" Roy's voice shouted, and Hagan saw an explosion of lightening and blood.
He guessed that the Knight had unleashed a powerful attack as well. The other Gear was dead. Hagan looked over to the Knights. Three were dead from claws raking across their bodies. He could also see the body of the Gear, sliced in half and rather burned.
"Joseph, come! We have work to do!" Roy said to the other Knight left alive.
"You two should get out of here!" Roy yelled to them.
They both ran away into the chaos filled city. Hagan now felt the tremendous pain of the blow he had suffered. He knew something had been damaged internally.
"Are you alright? Thank you for saving me again." Alyssa said, her gratitude genuine. Hagan felt that her gratitude was worth the pain, however immense, and this pain was indeed immense.
"Yeah... I'm alright. It... does hurt, though." he said, his teeth gritted from the pain.
He felt vulnerable... too vulnerable. He had never been this vulnerable around another person in a very long time. He coughed and tasted blood, and had to wipe a small trail of blood running from the corner of his mouth.
"You need help. Come with me and I'll get you some medical aid!" Alyssa said as she helped Hagan up.
He leaned on her for support as they walked. They both had to avoid fights, though Hagan felt the urge, more than once, to aid some people in distress... though such an action would have only gotten him killed in his current state. No, they retreated among the alleyways and debris. The attack, they both could see, was extensive and well structured. Small units of Gears roved the city, and they clashed with Knights and armed citizens, though the Knights fared far better than the people. All in all, the Gears were winning, and it was not very surprising, since this was such a lightening raid and all people in power were caught totally unguarded and unaware. After all, this whole incident was supposedly impossible, as the Gears were all supposed to be dormant. Fact were facts, and the impossible was happening. Hagan realized that they were going towards the outside of the city.
"Where are we going?" he asked finally.
"Well... to a ship that belongs to some of my friends. They will take you in if I ask." she said simply. Hagan frowned at the evasive answer.
That was too ambiguous for Hagan, who had survived by being paranoid.
"Who are your allies anyway?" he asked.
"Well... uh... I guess it doesn't hurt to go ahead and just tell you. I'm part of the Jellyfish Pirates. We're going to the Mayship." she said, reluctance in her voice.
Hagan had heard quite a bit about the infamous Jellyfish Pirates and their ever so infamous leader Johnny, seemingly harmless yet deadly with his sword. A master of the lost art of the Quick Draw, also called Iaijutsu in the old language of Japanese.
"I see... You are an orphan, no?" Hagan asked, though he was almost certain of the answer already.
It was said that he only took in orphans for his crew, so that they could steal from the rich and give to the poor... and themselves. Despite their criminal status and activities, their was a noble cause, and Johnny was known as a protector of children everywhere.
"Yeah... orphaned from the end of the Crusades. Gears and Crusaders fought over my hometown, and it was burned to the ground. My parents were killed when Gears attacked my home. I escaped... but they never came out. Johnny took me in after I wandered the streets for a time and got in a lot of trouble." she said slowly, obviously still mourning the loss of family.
Hagan felt an echo of his own pain within her story, but... he was unable to say his own story, due to his shame over his actions back then and what happened in that prison. They had, by this time, actually left the city its self and were now heading towards a metallic shape in the distance, one that he assumed to be the Mayship. Suddenly, he slipped, and a jolt of pain shot through him. He fell to the ground with a groan. He was dizzy from the pain and he tasted blood again..
"Must've... exerted... too much..." was all he could say before he passed out.
He awoke from dreams of fire and pain with a shout. It was a terrible dream, but he couldn't remember it at all. He immediately took stock of his surroundings. He was laying on a bed in a sparse room. There was a single window, through which a ray of sunlight emerged. He looked down at the gunshot wound, only to see a medical bandage wrapped all about his chest. There was little pain anymore. He got up slowly, unsure as to what to expect. He then noticed that he could hear a mechanical hum reverberating throughout the room. He walked over to the window to see the sky above and below him.
He was in the sky! He then knew exactly where he was, the Mayship. He then walked over to the door of the room. The handle pulled easily, and the door opened. The door opened into a hallway that went quite a little ways in both directions. He saw several young women walking down the hall, all dressed alike in sailor uniforms. Obviously, it seemed that the rumor about who could get into Johnny's crew was indeed true. The three girls suddenly up looked at him and paused. He realized how out of place he must have looked to them.
"Who're you?" one of them asked quizzically.
"Uh, I'm Hagan. Hagan Ko Lu." he said, feeling like he should say more, but unsure of exactly what to say.
"Oh! You're that guy who saved our Alyssa! Hey, thanks!" the girl said, smiling widely.
Hagan was taken aback. He had never before had this kind of reaction before for anything he had done in his recent life.
"Um... your welcome, I guess. Wait... what's going on with London? Do any of you know?" Hagan said suddenly, remembering the Gear attack.
The girls all looked down. "Well... London was saved... but over a thousand people died in the attack. They said that Ky went onto the battlefield himself. Johnny went as well, to protect the children. Its chaos down there now, and the Holy Knights are on emergency alert." one of the younger girls said.
"Over a thousand people..." Hagan mumbled.
So many people dead. The thought struck him as unjust, though he knew such a concept didn't really apply to the world... though as he had learned recently, one can bring... if not justice, then protection to others if you try.
"Can you show me to Johnny? I want to talk to him." Hagan asked suddenly.
He knew something about himself now, in light of all that had recently happened to and around him. He didn't want to go on killing. He now saw what he had tried to deny for so long: these people's stories, their lives, and what they all lived for. Yes, he had killed some really evil people, and he felt no regret over their deaths, but he wondered about many of those who died at his hands. How many were innocent of real crimes, but were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Like that girl... and like that detective he had so recently killed on assignment. He was really only doing his job, and he died for trying to save people in his own way.
"Sure, come with us." one of the girls said.
They all walked down the hall with Hagan in tow. He wondered if it was possible for him to actually do something about the downward spiral the world was going down. He had saved a girl, Alyssa, whom had a surrogate family whom all cared about her and would grieved her loss. She had her own aspirations as an artist and a place among other people. He had given all of that back to her by saving her. This... was preferable by far to killing people under orders. No, he was going to recant his membership into the Syndicate. He was going to, if possible, join these Jellyfish pirates for a time to try to do some good in the world for once. Also, he didn't want to admit it to himself, but he would need the pirates to help protect him from the Syndicate if they ever found him out.
"We're at his room. Just knock. We're gonna go get something to eat at the mess hall. You can join us if you get done quickly." one of the girls said, breaking his thoughts.
"Uh, sure..." he said, still unsure how to react to all of this friendliness.
The girls kept on going down another hall, giggling and talking.
The door he was at was actually kinda funny looking. There were numerous signs on and around it. Right in the middle of it, was a skull and crossbones, grinning at him. There was one small piece of writing stuck in the door, advising all of the girls on the ship that Johnny belongs to May. Hagan chuckled quietly to himself. He rapped on the door sharply. Quickly, the door opened to revel someone he recognized from descriptions to be May and a blue haired girl. The girl had wings... she was the rogue Gear Dizzy then, he thought. The only blue haired girl with wings on the Mayship that he had heard of was Dizzy. He felt a small pang of fear, but it was quickly crushed. No, Dizzy seemed to back away from him and hold her head down, almost as if she feared him.
Hagen hadn't expected to he these two. He looked around, quickly trying to figure out what she should say. The room its self was done in good taste, There were few decorations: a bonsai here, and a wall scroll with Japanese characters written on it. On the wall across from him were a pair of swords mounted on the wall. They were katanas, and beautifully crafted ones at that. There was a table in the middle of the room with a single candle on it. He would have looked around more, but May's voice snapped him to attention.
"Hey... you're that Hagan guy we picked up, right?" May asked, looking him over closely.
"Yeah... you're May, right? Second in command of the Mayship?" Hagan responded simply.
"That's me. You're well informed, and I hear that you fight pretty well. In fact, I hear that you took down two Gears by yourself, with a gunshot wound no less. Where'd you learn to fight like that?" May asked, cutting right to an issue that he had been debating over, whether to tell them his true origins or not.
He made his decision and took a deep breath.
"I learned how to fight from Zato-1 himself. I am... was an assassin for the Assassin's Syndicate. I've left that organization now, after... well... I uh, had a moral awakening. I guess that's how I'd put it. Its still strange to me." he said and hoped for the best.
It sounded really... dumb to him, but that was that. He knew that it would come out eventually if he hid it, and then it would probably be under the worst of circumstances. No, he'd lay out the facts now and hope that they would trust him. May's jaw dropped openly, obviously not expecting that answer. Dizzy backed away a step further.
"Assassins can't be trusted. To kill without regret, people like that cannot be trusted." May said, her eyes narrowing.
"I did save Alyssa, didn't I?" Hagan responded, desperately hoping that this wasn't going to go where it seemed that it would.
"Yes, but how are we to know that you didn't arrange that, or use that to infiltrate us?" May shot back, glaring.
"Then why would I be so honest? Assassin's rules state to never mention the Syndicate. Why then the honesty? I could've just lied." Hagan said, just a little anger creeping into his voice.
"Umm... To catch us off guard, I guess. Anyway, I don't trust you at all. You're too suspicious, even with saving Alyssa. Too much good timing." May said.
Hagan noticed that Dizzy just stood and watched the two of them argue, not saying a thing.
"Miss Dizzy, would you trust me?" Hagan asked, taking a huge gamble.
"Um... Uh... You did save Alyssa from getting killed... But you are suspicious as well... I don't know." she said and looked away.
Hagan noted her obvious insecurity with confusion. She was a Gear, a powerful weapon, and something to be feared.
"Uh... I'm gonna go for some air... I'm sorry." Dizzy said and fled the place.
Hagan looked after her, confused. He could feel the tension in the room, and knew he was losing this.
"You scared her away. You look better and better." May said sarcastically.
"Well... I can't help it if she's just shy. Where's Johnny? He will decide this." Hagan said, knowing that May would never accept him right then.
"Hmph. Like he'd even want to talk to you. He's out training his Iaijutsu, and if your mission is to get him, that skill will defeat you, no matter how good you are." May said with a smirk.
"I don't doubt it one bit. I'm no match for the Iaijutsu and I know it." Hagan said.
May glared at him, and he sighed. This was going very badly, and he needed to do something, and do it fast if he wanted to get May to listen to him. His thoughts were broken by a sound from the corner of the room, near a closet.
"So, we're alone in this room. Good." a voice said from behind the closet door.
"Who's there?" May shouted.
Hagan stealthily slid a hand into his gi, looking for a chopstick. He found his personal set resting in their clip. He got ready for a fight.
The closet opened, and a youth stepped out. He had a thin build, almost wiry, if not for the muscles he had. His face was obscured by black goggles. He was dressed all in black, his long black hair running down his back, his black jumpsuit featureless, and around his right arm was a bone whip seemingly made from vertebrae of some kind, probably human. It was coiled up his arm, ending at his shoulder. It seemed to come from under the sleeve of his trench coat, so Hagan couldn't tell how the weapon was attached to him. Such a strange thing as his weapon...
"You must be Mors, right? I heard that you were operating in this area. What are you doing on this ship?" Hagan asked, all too sure that he already knew.
"To kill you, obviously. Well... taking out any of the crew of Johnny would win we extra money and respect, but you are my target. I have orders to either take you in alive, or kill you if you prove troublesome... and I do hope you plan on being troublesome... Venom had you followed, you know? His agents saw the fight you had near our building and how you idiotically tried to avoid the Syndicate. We know more than you give us credit for. You shouldn't underestimate us. You were one of us." Mors said, his voice full of malice and contempt.
"You fool, Mors! The Syndicate is wrong in what its doing. We don't have the right to kill people just because we want to." Hagan said defiantly.
"Oh, this coming from 'The Cook of Hell's Kitchen.' Who would've thought! Zato must feel shame in the afterlife." Mors said darkly.
"Mors, get off of this ship and hurt no one on it. I mean it." Hagan said, some of the old killer's edge returning to his voice.
May, through all of this, was simply watching and waiting for the right target to present its self. Mors suddenly flicked his wrist, and Hagan felt the painful caress of a whip, though this one was not so cord-like as a normal whip. It hurt a whole lot more. He spun, launching a chopstick at Mors in return. He dodged it and spun back, intending to whip Hagan, but he ducked under the blow. He jumped back and threw another chopstick at Mors. He slipped past it and charged at Hagan.
"May! Get gone already! This is my fight, as he came onto the ship for me! Go!" Hagan shouted as he dodged another whip lashing.
He struck a quick jab at Mors' kidney, but he fell back, mostly dodging the blow.
"Where's your skill Hagan? This is nothing!" Mors taunted.
"Mors, we're wasting our time here. Just go home." Hagan said.
Mors responded by lashing at Hagan with that bone whip. He dodged by flipping back. Hagan concentrated for a moment, willing some of the energy within himself, as well as his anger at Mors, to flow into a technique.
"If you won't leave, then I'll have to make sure that you can't hurt anyone ever again." Hagan said, focusing his power.
"Go for it. I'm waiting, you know." Mors said with a devious and confident smile.
"Pressure Chains!" Hagan said, invoking his most powerful attack.
The chains again mystically connected to his special chopsticks, which he had in his hands in the blink of an eye. He threw the chopsticks, which sought out their target: Mors. His eyes widened for a moment in surprise, and then he grinned.
"Oooh! I get to see one of your best already!" Mors said with a bemused voice.
Right as the chains would've wrapped around Mors, he spun in mid-air, deflecting the chains with his whip and throwing a small dagger back at Hagan at the same time. The chains flew back to Hagan, whom was now on the ground with the dagger deeply buried in his shoulder.
"I've trained to defeat you, Hagan. After all, so many people thought that you would be better than me. I couldn't resist the challenge. But now... it seems that all of the others were wrong about you, now doesn't it? I'm better than you." Mors said, grinning.
Mors walked slowly up to Hagan, whom was crouching and clutching his wounded shoulder.
"Go to hell... Mors. Even if you kill me, you'll not make it off of this ship." Hagan said grimly.
"Really? I've already prepared my escape. I'll not be stopped by these pissants, you know!" Mors responded simply, and chuckled.
Hagan knew he was beaten. He was still unable to fight at his best from all of his wounds. Though they had been aided and treated, they were still bad wounds. All of his chest burned, and his breathing felt far more forced than normal. Added on to that was the damage, both physical and psychological, that Mors had done. His taunts angered and humiliated him, and he felt their stings. Right as Mors went for the killing stroke, he flew back as an anchor crashed into him.
"I don't exactly know what all is going on, but I can tell that you are far worse than this Hagan guy." May said, her anchor in hand.
May turned to Hagan as if to say something, but then she shuddered violently for a second and fell to the floor.
"Never underestimate the power of electricity. I can channel it through my whip... to great effect, as she just found out. No one interferes with Mors' hunt!" Mors said gleefully as he flipped off of the floor and back on his feet.
Hagan formulated a desperate plan: run out of the room, and hopefully bump into Johnny or someone who could help him. Before Mors could strike the final blow, Hagan burst into a sudden run, dashing through the ajar door of the room and out into the hallway with a shout.
Mors followed quickly, ever intent on scoring the kill. Hagan jumped up, despite the pain, and hurled another chopstick at Mors. Mors dodged it well, but Hagan came in right behind the attack, and delivered a powerful kick to Mors' ribs. He fell to the ground, and Hagan went to stomp on the prone Mors, but he twisted Hagan's ankle, causing him to loose his balance and fall beside Mors. He spun his hand around in a fist and cracked Hagan across the face. Hagan's vision blurred as his head impacted the hard metal floor right after Mors' fist hit him. Hagan tried to roll over to get up, but as he was still disoriented by the most recent blow, Mors got up faster and kicked him in the ribs. Hagan coughed up blood as he fell again to the floor. He coughed a few more times as he weakly struggled to get up and fell back down again. Desperation began to set in.
"You almost showed a bit of that old fighting spirit for a second. Too bad you suck too much to have done anything with it, you know." Mors said and pulled out a knife.
"Who are you!? Get off of him!" shouted a female voice from out of nowhere.
Mors turned and barely dodged a... brick... hurled at his head. Hagan turned to see Alyssa, her face a mask of anger, and a large metal paintbrush in hand. Alyssa swished the paintbrush around in some pattern, and there appeared another brick. Hagan noticed that the brick that had already been thrown had turned into a reddish, paint-like goo.
"What is this? When does this freak show end?" Mors said and shook his head.
"Go... Get help... he's too strong." Hagan breathed, hoping to get Alyssa to go away for her own safety.
"No..You saved me twice. Now I get to repay you. Besides, you're a nice guy, and Johnny's crew should always save the day!" Alyssa said in a confident and determined voice.
"Save the day? A bunch of children can't 'save the day.' You all should be in a school or something." Mors said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
"You'll rue the day you angered this artist!" Alyssa said as she hurled the brick at Mors. He, having easily anticipated the blow, dodged it without effort.
"No, no, no. This is not how it works, girl. I am one of the best assassins in all of the Syndicate. You are some no-talent artist who's to young to drink and who's closer to death now than any girl of your age should be. Think! You are dead if you keep this up. I have no qualms with killing you." Mors said, giving her a cold smile. His whip twitched randomly, as if it were alive.
Sparks of electrical currant began to run down the bone whip twitching from his coat. Hagan felt a fresh surge of anger and despair at the mention of her dying. He had sworn to prevent just such a thing, to protect this girl.
He stood, despite the pain and the sudden blurring of his vision. Something inside of him stirred. He could feel It inside of him, wriggling to get free as much as it always did; however, this time, its power and intensity were far different, and far, far stronger than ever before. He felt anger, hate, and rage boiling out from his dark side, rather than the normal calm killing intent it always had before. He was afraid of it for the first time in his life. Mors hadn't yet noticed his standing up, and he advanced on Alyssa, the killing glint in his eye. At the thought of her death, It entirely took over him in a rush. He knew blood and pain. He also knew hate and rage. Hagan was temporarily no more. His dark side, Devil, was fully free at last.