Me: Yo!~
Kanda: I thought you weren't going to post this on here.
Me: I did too...but on the other hand, I can't let fear get the better of me!
Lavi: Yeah! You tell 'em, Han-chan! The overall rating of this fic will eventually be 'M', but for now it's 'T'.
Kanda: This idiot has no ownership over D. Gray-man. If she did, she wouldn't be writing this crap now would she?
Me: I only take credit where it counts! That's the story you're about to read, what ever plot this story will end up with...and!~ any minor named/nameless OCs that you'll see in this story! Happy reading!
First Night: Murders in the Dark
It was a gelid night in the middle of winter; the skies were pitch black. The thick overlay of clouds did a magnificent task of consuming the endless sky, and the gemstones it supposedly sported earlier in the evening. The only source of light was coming from a lone lamp pole whose artificial light was slowly dying. But it was enough that it helped light a little of the area for which it occupied. Making an old forgotten bench seem as though it were illuminating with its own eerie glow.
Strolling through a park that should have been deserted that night, a couple trekked through the freshly fallen snow. A young woman with dark hair, to which shown blue in the dim light of the lamp, looked up to her lover, her hand in his, keeping it warm from the bitter cold. Her blue eyes looking to the man she loved, all the while listening to the wonderful things he had to say, until her mind started wandering towards a future she hoped to share with him.
"...isn't it?" He suddenly asked her, causing the woman to blink, not catching the recent thing he was saying.
"Um," She said, blush evident on her face. He laughed and held her close, keeping her warm in his embrace.
"I said, 'it's a peaceful night, isn't it?'" He repeated for her. The girl smiled, though she knew he couldn't see it.
"Very." She answered into his coat. She pushed herself away so she could see his face. High cheekbones, and light tan complexion, crisp and silky red hair that was cropped short, and eyes of a golden ember that were gentle and loving. He was like a angel to her. One which she had hopelessly fell in love with. Before she knew it, he pushed her away slightly, and reached into his pocket. He got down on one knee, holding a small beautifully wrapped box.
"I don't know if you remember, but this was the first place we met. Four years ago today, I asked you to be my girlfriend. Now in the same spot with the same undying love for you, will you allow me to take your hand in marriage?" Speechless she watched as he opened the box to reveal a ring that must've cost a fortune. The silver band had diamonds embedded on the top, giving it an elegant look.
"Th-this must've cost a fortune!" She couldn't help by verbalize. Tears soon fell from her eyes, and she knelt down so that she could hug her newly betrothed. "Of course! Of course..." She wept again into his jacket, and he held her close.
"Such meritless beings you humans are." A voice neither were familiar says. It was a low baritone voice, full of venom and detest. "Hapless beings you all are."
"Who the hell are you?" The man asked, glaring at the other before them.
"You hear that? He's asking who we are." Another voice says. This one a little higher then the first. A low tenor perhaps? The two promptly glanced behind them to see another man, about the same age as the first. His face also out of sight by the hood of his own cloak.
"Who the hell are you?" The man asked again, fear lacing his words.
"Grim Reapers." The two dark unknowns answered. The once peaceful night was filled with shrieks of terror that went unheard. The light of the lamp post flickered out, leaving all in darkness.
|=(}:-:{)=|
"This is just perfect!" A female officer was beyond peeved as she drove her cruiser recklessly through the streets of Manhattan. It was early in the morning when she received the call on a couple who were murdered late last night. Charles never didn't give her any information save for the fact that it was done by 'Them'. She knew who 'They' were, but she, along with the rest of the agents had no clue what 'Their' motives were, nor did they know why 'They' were killing these people. All the victims had nothing in common, save for that they were couples, and they were all somehow drained of their blood.
When she finally arrived at the crime scene, she quickly tied her brown hair back, and arranged her glasses pushing them up her nose by the rounded frames. She took out her badge, and showed the police officer her FBI badge. She was granted the access she requested in a heart beat.
"Officer Charles!" She called out, seeing the man she scouting out, and also replacing the emblem into her chest pocket. "Tell me who our vics are." She said, pointing at the corpses before her.
"Special Agent Moore Hess," The man named Charles said, saluting his partner. He was about in his mid-forties. Moore often wondered how he even got into the FBI if he was constantly spooked by simple things. A stray cat for example.
"At ease." She told the older man. "Just tell me what you managed to find out."
"The male vic's name is Thomas Goldman. Twenty-nine, white Caucasian—"
"Goldman? Isn't that the name of the multimillionaire who lives in upstate New York?"
"That's right." Charles confirmed. "Then we the female whose name is Danielle Eclair, twenty-one, French white Caucasian. Both seemed to have died slow and painful deaths."
"What was the COD?"
"Blood loss."
"Do you have a weapon?"
"Just like the last case, no. No weapons were left behind, and just like last time, there are no evidence of where they were drained of their blood.
"Witnesses?"
"It's no one important, just some damn brat who got lost." A new voice answers instead.
"Cross Marian, sir, what brings you here?" Moore asked the red-haired man. The right side of his face was covered by a mask, whilst still wearing his glasses, half of them being hidden. He wore a black trench coat, covering the attire he had under it. His dark snow boots were crunching the snow under them as he made his way to the lower ranking FBI agents. "Charles, right? What was the approximate time of death?"
"About late last night. We're estimating they've been dead for five hours, sir."
"I see. Such a pity a young beautiful girl as herself got caught in something so tragic." Cross said, receiving a box of cancer sticks and taking one out so he could smoke. "Who has a lighter on them?"
Moore rolled her eyes, and threw a lighter at the higher ranking official. "Keep it. I don't want anything you've contaminated."
"Rude as usual, Special Agent." Cross retorted, pocketing the lighter after he lit the cigarette. He breathed in the fumes, and blew them out, creating a puff of smoke that drifted into nothingness as it was dispersed into the air. "By the way, 'They' left 'Their' mark, right?"
"That did they, sir." Charles answered, "The mark of the Grim Reaper."
"'They' were the ones who killed your sister and her newly wed husband, correct?" Cross asked Moore, who looked away, staring off into a past no one could even imagine.
"They did. Marc and Claire didn't deserve to die, but their lives were taken nonetheless." She said, turning her attention back to the team. "They were strong believers in God, and had faith in Him."
"Excuse me, Agent Hess?" A new voice asked. She turned her attention to a police officer. He no younger than she was now, but she nodded acknowledging him to go on. "You're brother-in-law and sister, were they Catholic? Did they, by chance have any dislikes for homosexuals?"
"Well, they were both Catholic, yes. But Marc was the only one who voiced his opinions about homosexuals."
"What about Miss Claire?"
"Claire was a kindhearted soul. She thought of them no different then you or me."
"She was a good woman." Cross said from where he stood.
"Which reminds me, what are you even doing here? I thought for sure you'd be racking up your debts, and leaving some poor unfortunate soul to pay them off." Moore said, a skeptical look on her face.
"Don't tell you me you doubt me that much." Cross smirked, throwing away his now useless cancer stick. It melted the snow the heated end touched. Though not by much. "Now, Special Agent Hess, have you ever actually seen the Mark?"
"Once. When it was carved upon the chests of my two beloved persons. And from there has also been carved into my memory."
" 'The mark engraved into the couples' chests,' " A new voice said, while taking a look at both corpses, " 'always over their hearts. A delicate rose with a skull in the center, a crack splits it in two, with blood falling from it. Meaning nothing more than silent hate for a broken heart.' At least, that's how one would normally see it."
"You're Bookman's kid." Cross stated seeing the red-haired nineteen-year-old. Though he was in his second year of university right now, he was much of an asset for the team. His memory sharper than most, granting him the ability to remember everything and anything that he's seen, heard, or read. He may not have been an official agent, but they were glad to have him nonetheless.
The red-head stood, and walked in the direction of the higher ranking officials. His hair held in place by a black headband with red dots forming an 'X' shape to the side. Though some of his hair wasn't held up in said article. He sported an eye patch over his right eye, one strap was secured behind his left ear, making the lower part of it cross the bridge of his nose the other had the top half the string hidden under the stray hair, and behind his right ear, coming back to caress the cheek on the same side. His dark navy thigh-length jacket was left opened, though he kept an over-sized scarf wrapped around his neck. A black turtleneck sweater could be seen under the opened coat, and he also had on white jeans, with some sort of holster on his right pant leg. He wore boots that reached inches from his knee, obviously made for the snowy weather.
"That I am." The teen answered when he arrived. His lone forest-green eye looking to the elders of the group. "Lavi Bookman, nineteen, second year at the University." He introduced himself. "Now if you excuse me, I have an engagement to get to."
"Not really the lively type of boy." Moore said, noting Lavi's dead tone. The teen had by then gotten out of ear shot.
"It's how he is." Cross shrugged, iOr rather how that damn panda raised him./i
|=(}:-:{)=|
He was training in local dojo, gracefully swinging his shinai, a practice sword made out of bamboo, at an unseen enemy. His face was hidden by his men, a protective helmet that kept his face and shoulders safe from his opponents attacks. He wore kote, or special gloves that protected his hands and wrists from those who wished to force his weapon from his grasp. The young man wore a loosely fitting hakama to which would be mistaken for a long skirt, if one were to only take a quick glance. Over his black keigoki (an open shirt that is normally tied shut) he was also wearing was a do, keeping his torso protected from the attacks that would be aimed there. A tare was around his lower waist, completing the armor the young soon-to-be samurai was sporting.
"Training harder as ever, I see." A voice from behind him says. The man turns around to give an unseen glare to the one intruding on his practice session. "Really, Yu, can't you take a breather for once in your life?" A sigh emitted from behind the men, as he turned to replace the shinai he had borrowed. He then removed the kote, before reaching to his head and removing the men, revealing the samurai's face.
Long flowing raven-black hair held in a high ponytail only leave two tresses of the silky substance framing the sharpness of his cheeks, and overall maturity of his oriental features. His bangs almost reached his eyes, but they never got in the way of what the dark cobalt orbs had in their sights. In this case it was a childhood friend, Alma Karma. "What are you doing here?" He asked the brown-haired teen. Alma's bright almond-shaped eyes seemed to brighten more so than what they already were. Of the people in the world, Alma was probably the only one he could get along best with. Short brown hair, with two tresses that reached his chin. He had a scar across his nose, a past injury from being stupid, and very young at the time.
"I'm here to make sure you don't overdo your practice sessions again, Yu." Alma said, taking a seat in front of the wall, though still next to the doorway. His T-shirt ruffling in the back, as he slid down the wall behind him. He scooted some to fix the said article of clothing, before leaning against the wall once more.
"In case you hadn't noticed, I'm fine." The man named 'Yu' said. "It's not like I'm going to die any time soon."
"I know, Yu. The same goes for a lot of us." Alma said, clutching the left side of his chest. "I mean, if we would've known all this would've happened..."
"It wasn't your fault." The younger nineteen-year-old sighed. "Not fully. It was all of our faults we're the way we are now."
"How long have we been this way? Seems like forever."
"Understatement of the millennium." Kanda snorted. Removing the do and tare, before deciding to take a seat beside Alma. "Even if we wanted to go back, I doubt there's a way."
"Yeah, you're probably right." Alma sighed. "We can only go forward, and never back." Yu nodded his head in agreement, before deciding to meditate. Alma, realizing he was going to do so, quickly tugged at the other's keigoki.
"What?"
"Yu, I forgot to tell you something." His eyes showed the seriousness in his voice.
"Go."
"They're getting suspicious. Cross and the rest can only do so much before someone will put two and two together."
"You don't need to tell me that."
"I'm only the messenger, Yu." Alma said, getting up. "Besides, I think we all will have to start being more careful from here on out."
"Right."
And scene! Okay, so that's a wrap!~ Well for this chapter, anyway. I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! Please leave a review to let me know if you want me to continue this or not!~ Updates will vary, btw, I'm not even sure when I'll get the next chapter out...so!~ R&R!~