All Characters and everything else belong to their respective owners. The current OC belongs to me.
Chapter 1: Hope(less), Help(less), Faith(less)
Having an 'I've got a feeling that I'm being watched.' in the middle of the night was never good. Django, who knew how to pick up the smallest amount of noise that could possibly be fatal, be it Undead or not, heard a noise behind him but turning around didn't show up a thing. There was a possibility of a creaking floorboard from the second floor of the Dark City. Or not, it could be something else and he tightened his grip on the Gun del Sol.
More creaking, behind him again, and then he was sent flying across the room, smashing into the wall and becoming momentarily winded and dizzy. That didn't, however, prevent Django from firing at his attacker and a hiss of pain indicated a hit. Scrambling to his feet as fast as he could, he looked around. Whoever had attacked him had disappeared. Django's head was spinning from the crash, rubbing that while looking around even more carefully. "The room is small; so how could I miss something come in?" He wondered and went to the next room.
There wasn't anything in this room either, but since Django didn't want to be thrown into a wall again, he made sure there really wasn't anything in the room and then checked how much energy he had left. Keeping track of how much energy there still was, being night and all, could make or break it if he was attacked again. "There's still some...and I have a few Solar Fruits left, but those are hard to eat while fighting." Django had come into Dark City knowing he'd have enough energy to make it at least to the second floor and back down.
Things are always easy when you plan something. It's when you do it, and then it goes horribly wrong.
Footsteps came out of nowhere and a hand wrapped around his neck. Thinking fast, Django swung around and lashed out with a kick aimed at the side. It connected and the hand let go...only to grab his leg. "Oh no!" Doubling the grip on the Solar Gun so it wouldn't be dropped, he prepared for the fall that was inevitable as he was jerked off his feet and sent crashing to the floor, leaning forward with his upper body so that his head wouldn't be hurt. The moment Django felt body touch wood, he fired again, lighting the area up for him to catch crimson eyes and the Dark Matter that flickered against his senses. "A...Immortal!" Another hiss of pain and his leg was released. Django rolled out of the way, as something was rammed into the ground, by the sound, a sword. Close quarter combat weapon verses a long ranged one, and as luck would have it, Django hadn't thought to bring the Sol Del Vice.
His luck was horrible anyways. But right now wasn't the time to be worrying about 'luck'; there was an Immortal to be beaten. Speaking of which, the Immortal had taken it upon himself to remove the sword out of the ground and take another swing at him, and if he hadn't rolled out of the way again and onto his feet, it would have taken his head off. Twisting around to get at a better shot, Django fired and apparently the Immortal had decided not to get hit anymore by dodging with the fast reflexes given to them, trying to move into a range more suitable for his weapon.
Now it was Django's turn to start dodging. The Immortal wove a wall of steel, an apparent expert in sword fighting, testing to see any breaks in the Solar Boy's defences. Only once did the metal manage to cut flesh, his upper arm with a small slice, by a few more inches, it could have been a lot worse. But like the saying goes, "Luck can only get you so far." and unluckily, the next twist Django had to do to dodge landed him smack into a wall (again) and the blade buried deep in his left shoulder. Biting back pain, he tried to dislodge the blade only to find it had been imbedded into the wall as well. Then the sound of more metal being drawn and promptly ripped into the flesh of his right shoulder, now completely immobilizing him.
The Immortal laughed quietly and approached, stopping a few feet away. "Hun?" His voice echoed both shock and disappointment. He grabbed a fistful of Django's hair and jerked his head back, seemingly to get a look at his face. "You're not the guy that I'm looking for...but you do look like him anyways." The Immortal reached down with his free hand and wrapped it around Django's right wrist and squeezed. When the pressure became too much, the Sol Del Gun clattered onto the ground. "He...does he mean Sabata?" "Eh, I'll just use you as a messenger and I still get a kick out of this" A skidding noise and the feel of metal on the bare skin of his legs. "I'm going to ask you a few questions...and I hope you're an honest person." Blood started to flow down his legs from pressure, digging deeper. "First question. Do you know a kid named Sabata?" "I don'—" This time it was Django who cried out in pain as the blade plunged into his left leg. "It's a no brainer why you two share the same appearance...you're his brother. Boy, did I get lucky or what? I can keep a promise too!"
It was raining outside. It would be one of the few things he remembered for awhile.
It was running onto one o'clock by now. Django's case of 'insomnia' gave him the time to stay up longer, but not this long. He had told Sabata that he was going to Dark City for awhile, and once one o'clock rolled around, there was still no sight of him. Still having some time left before the sun came up, Sabata went looking for him, knowing his Solar opposite had the tendency to land in trouble quite often.
And in this case, it wasn't good to be correct.
Rounding the corner brought a dragging sound to his ears, and if he hadn't caught the sight of blond hair he would have shot Django.
Not that he needed help in the injury department.
Nasty jagged wounds criss-crossed along Django's arms, visible due to ripped sleeves, one of which was barely able to hold him up from the wall he was using as a support, puncture wounds in his shoulders. His legs didn't look any better and he was shaking. Soon his arm gave out and he slumped against the wall. Sabata ran over and lifted his upper body up gently. "Django!" Blood was running down his face, best guess was something hit him there, so falling unconscious would be a worry because of the risk of a concussion. His back was wet, and it had nothing to do with the rain, because as far as Sabata knew, rain wasn't the bright crimson staining his hands from touching his brother's back. "S-Sabata..." The pain etched in Django's body equally existed in his voice. "Don't try to talk. It'll waste your energy." However, that was ignored and with a shaky hand, he gripped Sabata's sleeve. "There's...an I-Immortal after...you…" He swallowed most likely because blood was lodging in his throat. "...he s-s-says his name is...Novas...and that...you know who he is..." And the grip slackened and fell. Django had lost the fight to stay awake.
Sabata's eyes widened. Partly because of the name, mostly because of the very limp form in his arms. Quickly he checked for a pulse and found one, small and weak, before standing up. He wasn't too far away from San Miguel, since Django had somehow managed to get this far in his condition. But as he ran, memories flooded back...the ones that stay in his head no matter how much Sabata tried to get rid of them.
"There was someone before you that I tried this little experiment on. Regrettably, he went insane and we had to lock him up. He's still here, in this palace. Maybe one day, you two could meet...I'm sure he'd like to see you." And like Hel said, they did get to meet, out of punishment for trying to escape once. For four days, Sabata was locked in a crypt and physically tortured by the Queen's 'failed project'.
The agony was different, but this time it had been inflected onto his brother. He pretty much ripped the door to the inn off its hinges because of anger, scaring Lita, who was the only one there at the time. "Lita! Help me get Django upstairs!" They managed to get him up the stairs without any problems and Lita started to work on his wounds. Sabata went back downstairs, knowing he'd be no help for this sort of thing and sat down in one of the chairs. Then memory kicked him in the head, reminding him who did this, and leaned his head against the table before rising slightly and falling back down with a 'thunk'. Sabata had just remembered the last thing Novas had said to him.
"Hel was right, I do like seeing your sad face, so I promise, if anything becomes precious to you, I'll take it away."
Django had become one of those things and now Novas would do anything to try and kill him. That is, if he hadn't already.
It feels like I got lazy near the end. Eh, oh well.