Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Weiss characters, any of the original
characters that I stick in here are mine.
Warnings: I really don't know where this is going as of yet. I have some idea though, so right now, I'm going to say… there's going to be violence, death, angst, bad language, all that good dark stuff I usually throw into it.
Sometimes he had to wonder what kept him going. What was it that motivated him to keep on doing what he did each night? What was it that made him take those missions? What was it that made him… him? He was sitting against the wall with his back pressed up against it, his shoulders hunched slightly because his arms were upraised, forearms, one resting on each knee, a book held in his hands. His fingers were curled lightly against the yellowing pages, growing more worn looking with each day, each month that passed. How many months had he been like this now? Two years worth.
Turning his head to the side, he could faintly see his reflection in the window, staring at the lights just past his own image. Narrowing his eyes, the lights would blur together, like little glowing discs in the distance. Stars. Tipping his chin upward just a little bit, enough so that he could peer up at a straight angle and see the sky, the dark sky that was clouded with pollution gathered from the city. No stars up there. No. His eyes staying narrowed to slits, while his gaze panned out over the city. His stars were down here with him, and it was only when he was half blind, that he could see them.
A soft knock on his door makes him relax his eyes, almond shaped eyes with a purple gem in each. Hardening in their feline confines, sliding toward the light that comes through the dark hallway, shining onto him in a straight beam. The ray filtering through cutting his figure in half, straight down the middle, illuminating the fine porcelain that made up his mask, his skin. Blinking, letting the light catch his eyes, making them seem like marbles with the rays filtering through them. His head lifted some more and he turned on the bed, his legs causing the sheets beneath him to drag along, moved only by his weight. A dead weight.
" Nani ka?" Even those two words seem forced from him. Verbally, he didn't say much, no, he was articulate only in his head.
"Aya-kun, Youji and Ken are heading out and I'm going over to a friend's to study. Did you want to go with them? They'll wait if you want to go along." Baby blue eyes that were powered by the light, fine blonde hair that framed a still young face. Many people would describe him as angelic, Ran merely described him as young. Energetic. Untouched by the darkness from inside. Everyone had darkness within them.
"Iie." Turning away from the door now to leave his back to the light, lifting his book off his lap where it'd been resting, his right hand moving to smooth out the corner he'd bent to mark where he'd paused to think. Pretense of being occupied. But he was, by his thoughts, he usually fell victim to them.
"Sou ka. Ok Aya-kun." The door closed with a soft click, leaving him in darkness again, momentarily it was dark anyway. The light from the window returned to him, his eyes become accustomed to the dimness once more, and the words on the pages before him once again stood out clearly.
"Aa." Saying it to no one in particular, maybe just as a final confirmation of his decision, he lifted the book to rest it against his left knee, holding it with his left hand while his right raked through those fire red strands, pulling the bangs back away from his forehead. He did this often, holding his hair back away from his face with his fingers entwined in the strands, twisting them now and then when he read something he needed to think about, or when he thought something he should stop thinking about.
Right now, he was doing it because it was familiar.
Ran. That was his real name. The one that he used only in his head when he was talking to himself. When he'd forget where he was and who he was now. Aya. A small quirk of his lips hinted at a wry smile. It really was, obviously, a girl's name. At times he wondered if the others noticed. Other times, he wondered if they even cared.
His fingers curled and the hair stretched a little between his fingers where he was pulling on them. He favored literature that criticized society, and pointed out its faults. He favored literature that gave him things to think about while he lay there unable to sleep at night. So many things to absorb.
Closing his eyes, his head tipped back against the wall with a dull thump, and his shoulders relaxed with a sigh. Another knock at his door, this time, no polite wait followed as the knob turned and the door was thrown open. A long shadow was cast over his bed, stretched out to even linger on the window like a fleeting phantom, his eyes following this back to the door, the light framing the figure standing in it. Like a halo of light, he thought.
" Aya." The man in the doorway had blonde hair, but even from here, Ran could see the dark roots. He was holding the door open as if it'd slam shut if he'd let go. He owned a lanky body and a long indigo trench, white crosses seared onto each arm with white leather, the buckles in the center where the two lines crossed shining, catching and reflecting the light from behind.
"Aa?" Turning to the door again, twisting the sheet beneath him and giving himself a faint sensation of sheet burn, setting the book down, bending the page again with a finger, the book coming to its rest on the window sill. He stood from the bed, though he had no need to stand, his feet touching the cold floor, and his hands went to adjust the waistband of the sweatpants.
"Change of plans. Manx is here. Gear up." He was still standing there, waiting, watching him. Ran would smile if he ever allowed himself to freely do so. Humorous really, how this was being done. Youji, the bleach blonde, always had a way of being dramatic. 'Gear up'. It sounded like something out of a bad weekend morning cartoon. 'Gear up' and lock and load. He'd figure out some corny theme song later, in his head, to satisfy the part of him that was still a child. He did that a lot these days. Satisfied that part of him. His face remained slack outside his mind, indifferent. Inside, he was still bemusing the child. Let him be happy, Ran thought. He's dying.
"Aa." He gave a small nod of his head, turning his head to the side, toward his closet and walked that way. The door closed again behind him, the darkness bathing him once more. Pulling the closet door open, he reached for the trench coat.
Downstairs, he had to walk all the way to the basement where the other three team members were gathered. This is where they met up to learn about their missions. This is where he took his missions; this is where he sold his soul each time, for a bit of cash. Cash that was passed to him under the table.
The screen came to life with a flicker of light passing over each of their four faces, and the other face. One that Ran only saw on nights like this. Manx, the executioner's secretary.
" This." Manx was pointing to the screen with a laser, moving the little red circle with several flicks of her wrist. Showing them a large portion of a bird's view shot of a city.
"Is Chinatown in Los Angeles." Stopping the red light on a smaller block as the video continued and zoomed in.
" This is the location of a large organized crime ring. Smuggling children and selling them. For anything."
Ran thought he saw Ken wince at that. The brunette to the far left of himself, the one standing there in his black t-shirt, the orange sweater around his hips, and hip hugging jeans. Ken liked children, Ran reminded himself. He taught them to play soccer.
" I suggest you all go. If anyone disagrees with the mission, speak up now."
Silence. Ran's eyes flickered once over the others before returning to look at Manx.
" Good. Then go pack. You have two hours before your flight. I will meet you at the airport."
She was gone then, walking, her heels clicking to go back upstairs. Ran turned his head to look after her, and noticed that Youji was watching as well, only, their eyes were trailing different areas.
"Well. Looks like we've got to find those suitcases." Youji's arms stretching over his head as he stretched, yawning, hands on the small of his back as he started for the stairs, Omi, the boy that had knocked earlier, following behind him. Ken was looking at the screen still, where some of the pictures of the children were flashing at them. Children that were stripped of their shrunken clothing and murdered. Left to be displayed for the world to see and be appalled by. Disturbing. So disturbing it made Ran want to write some poetry about it.
He turned away and started upstairs, saying nothing and outwardly seeming as distant and cold as they thought he was. Distant, yes. Cold, pretty soon he would be.
(( Continued.))
Warnings: I really don't know where this is going as of yet. I have some idea though, so right now, I'm going to say… there's going to be violence, death, angst, bad language, all that good dark stuff I usually throw into it.
Sometimes he had to wonder what kept him going. What was it that motivated him to keep on doing what he did each night? What was it that made him take those missions? What was it that made him… him? He was sitting against the wall with his back pressed up against it, his shoulders hunched slightly because his arms were upraised, forearms, one resting on each knee, a book held in his hands. His fingers were curled lightly against the yellowing pages, growing more worn looking with each day, each month that passed. How many months had he been like this now? Two years worth.
Turning his head to the side, he could faintly see his reflection in the window, staring at the lights just past his own image. Narrowing his eyes, the lights would blur together, like little glowing discs in the distance. Stars. Tipping his chin upward just a little bit, enough so that he could peer up at a straight angle and see the sky, the dark sky that was clouded with pollution gathered from the city. No stars up there. No. His eyes staying narrowed to slits, while his gaze panned out over the city. His stars were down here with him, and it was only when he was half blind, that he could see them.
A soft knock on his door makes him relax his eyes, almond shaped eyes with a purple gem in each. Hardening in their feline confines, sliding toward the light that comes through the dark hallway, shining onto him in a straight beam. The ray filtering through cutting his figure in half, straight down the middle, illuminating the fine porcelain that made up his mask, his skin. Blinking, letting the light catch his eyes, making them seem like marbles with the rays filtering through them. His head lifted some more and he turned on the bed, his legs causing the sheets beneath him to drag along, moved only by his weight. A dead weight.
" Nani ka?" Even those two words seem forced from him. Verbally, he didn't say much, no, he was articulate only in his head.
"Aya-kun, Youji and Ken are heading out and I'm going over to a friend's to study. Did you want to go with them? They'll wait if you want to go along." Baby blue eyes that were powered by the light, fine blonde hair that framed a still young face. Many people would describe him as angelic, Ran merely described him as young. Energetic. Untouched by the darkness from inside. Everyone had darkness within them.
"Iie." Turning away from the door now to leave his back to the light, lifting his book off his lap where it'd been resting, his right hand moving to smooth out the corner he'd bent to mark where he'd paused to think. Pretense of being occupied. But he was, by his thoughts, he usually fell victim to them.
"Sou ka. Ok Aya-kun." The door closed with a soft click, leaving him in darkness again, momentarily it was dark anyway. The light from the window returned to him, his eyes become accustomed to the dimness once more, and the words on the pages before him once again stood out clearly.
"Aa." Saying it to no one in particular, maybe just as a final confirmation of his decision, he lifted the book to rest it against his left knee, holding it with his left hand while his right raked through those fire red strands, pulling the bangs back away from his forehead. He did this often, holding his hair back away from his face with his fingers entwined in the strands, twisting them now and then when he read something he needed to think about, or when he thought something he should stop thinking about.
Right now, he was doing it because it was familiar.
Ran. That was his real name. The one that he used only in his head when he was talking to himself. When he'd forget where he was and who he was now. Aya. A small quirk of his lips hinted at a wry smile. It really was, obviously, a girl's name. At times he wondered if the others noticed. Other times, he wondered if they even cared.
His fingers curled and the hair stretched a little between his fingers where he was pulling on them. He favored literature that criticized society, and pointed out its faults. He favored literature that gave him things to think about while he lay there unable to sleep at night. So many things to absorb.
Closing his eyes, his head tipped back against the wall with a dull thump, and his shoulders relaxed with a sigh. Another knock at his door, this time, no polite wait followed as the knob turned and the door was thrown open. A long shadow was cast over his bed, stretched out to even linger on the window like a fleeting phantom, his eyes following this back to the door, the light framing the figure standing in it. Like a halo of light, he thought.
" Aya." The man in the doorway had blonde hair, but even from here, Ran could see the dark roots. He was holding the door open as if it'd slam shut if he'd let go. He owned a lanky body and a long indigo trench, white crosses seared onto each arm with white leather, the buckles in the center where the two lines crossed shining, catching and reflecting the light from behind.
"Aa?" Turning to the door again, twisting the sheet beneath him and giving himself a faint sensation of sheet burn, setting the book down, bending the page again with a finger, the book coming to its rest on the window sill. He stood from the bed, though he had no need to stand, his feet touching the cold floor, and his hands went to adjust the waistband of the sweatpants.
"Change of plans. Manx is here. Gear up." He was still standing there, waiting, watching him. Ran would smile if he ever allowed himself to freely do so. Humorous really, how this was being done. Youji, the bleach blonde, always had a way of being dramatic. 'Gear up'. It sounded like something out of a bad weekend morning cartoon. 'Gear up' and lock and load. He'd figure out some corny theme song later, in his head, to satisfy the part of him that was still a child. He did that a lot these days. Satisfied that part of him. His face remained slack outside his mind, indifferent. Inside, he was still bemusing the child. Let him be happy, Ran thought. He's dying.
"Aa." He gave a small nod of his head, turning his head to the side, toward his closet and walked that way. The door closed again behind him, the darkness bathing him once more. Pulling the closet door open, he reached for the trench coat.
Downstairs, he had to walk all the way to the basement where the other three team members were gathered. This is where they met up to learn about their missions. This is where he took his missions; this is where he sold his soul each time, for a bit of cash. Cash that was passed to him under the table.
The screen came to life with a flicker of light passing over each of their four faces, and the other face. One that Ran only saw on nights like this. Manx, the executioner's secretary.
" This." Manx was pointing to the screen with a laser, moving the little red circle with several flicks of her wrist. Showing them a large portion of a bird's view shot of a city.
"Is Chinatown in Los Angeles." Stopping the red light on a smaller block as the video continued and zoomed in.
" This is the location of a large organized crime ring. Smuggling children and selling them. For anything."
Ran thought he saw Ken wince at that. The brunette to the far left of himself, the one standing there in his black t-shirt, the orange sweater around his hips, and hip hugging jeans. Ken liked children, Ran reminded himself. He taught them to play soccer.
" I suggest you all go. If anyone disagrees with the mission, speak up now."
Silence. Ran's eyes flickered once over the others before returning to look at Manx.
" Good. Then go pack. You have two hours before your flight. I will meet you at the airport."
She was gone then, walking, her heels clicking to go back upstairs. Ran turned his head to look after her, and noticed that Youji was watching as well, only, their eyes were trailing different areas.
"Well. Looks like we've got to find those suitcases." Youji's arms stretching over his head as he stretched, yawning, hands on the small of his back as he started for the stairs, Omi, the boy that had knocked earlier, following behind him. Ken was looking at the screen still, where some of the pictures of the children were flashing at them. Children that were stripped of their shrunken clothing and murdered. Left to be displayed for the world to see and be appalled by. Disturbing. So disturbing it made Ran want to write some poetry about it.
He turned away and started upstairs, saying nothing and outwardly seeming as distant and cold as they thought he was. Distant, yes. Cold, pretty soon he would be.
(( Continued.))
