Gray Ringmarc knew he was different from the other children ever since he was born.
For one, he had eyes. Pale golden orbs that stared at you with the intensity of a predator tracking down prey. Golden eyes that glimmered amber if you tilted your head one way. They were what made him an outcast. Everyone knew only ones with duties had eyes. But Gray had none. (None that anybody knew, at least.)
He was also different from the other kids - not just his eyes - but his entire manner. The small faceless spent their time out in the garden with their friends or helping their family. The few unlucky ones spent their times cowering under the Roleholder rules.
Gray wasn't interested in playing soccer with the other kids, or learning how to do household chores. No - he was curious in the human being. The delicate structure of skin over bones that was so easy to destroy, the beautiful web of veins with blood they didn't really need, and the structure of the body; not perfectly proportioned, yet beautiful all the same.
Red, he thought, was clearly the best colour. The shimmery crimson shade of blood that trickled down his arms when Gray got curious and picked up a knife. The beautiful shade of the pain he felt when the knife dug into his arm: little sparks of red. So, so beautiful.
It terrified the children and adults alike. That child is sick, they whispered amongst themselves when they thought he wasn't listening. Gray didn't need the children who secretly mocked him behind his back. He didn't need the adults who murmured amongst each other about the child with eyes.
No. He was alone, and that was okay.
Gray Ringmarc didn't need anyone.
xXx
"Hey, toss me the ball!"
Gray leant over and picked up the football, examining it briefly, before throwing it back to the owner of the ball. He admired his throw for a bit (it had a beautiful arc and the spiral was perfect). Not bad.
Marco (the faceless who had asked for it) caught it and grinned at him. "Nice!" he said appreciatively. "Is that your first time throwing a football?"
Nodding his head in agreement, the young boy quietly wondered why the faceless was being so nice to him. Most kids, once they'd glimpsed his eyes, had retreated into their own little circles, whispering, it's the Ringmarc kid. The one with eyes. Gray waited for the boy to do the same.
Instead, Marco just smiled, and for the first time, a tingle of… something ran through him, from the top of his head to his toes. It was a warm sensation that caused his stomach to feel fluttery, as though he'd just swallowed a thousand butterflies. It was the first time someone had looked at him that kindly, and it was definitely a moment to cherish.
"I'm Marco," the boy continued, as if Gray didn't already know. He extended his hand for a shake. Gray stared at it like it was a foreign object before hesitantly placing his own palm into the other boy's hand. It tingled, as if someone just zapped it with a lightning bolt.
"Gray Ringmarc."
xXx
(Gray should have known it would never last, even as he clutched the body of his dead best friend, screaming desperately at him not to die, not to leave him alone, because he couldn't survive, not without Marco, please don't - even as the body shimmered and became a pristine clock.)
xXx
'Gray Ringmarc' was gone. In its place was the hollow, empty shell of the man he used to be. The Lizard, the called him these days.
Cold golden eyes stared at him from the mirror. He despised mirrors. What was the use of such a foolishly narcissistic object?
(Maybe he should've known the reason he hated them so much were because they had the ability to make him see exactly what he didn't want to.)
His hands twitched as he grabbed his cigarette and lit it up, inhaling the toxic smoke. Leaning against a building, he allowed himself to think. (Not too deeply. He didn't want to remember.)
Being an assassin suited him well. He was agile and deadly, each throw of the knife calculated so carefully it created a beautiful rush of euphoria every time the knife slipped past his fingers and found the target. Nimble and graceful, he easily ousted his target, no matter how skilled or experienced they may be.
And the pay was good. Not the best way to live, but it was enough for him to buy a pack of cigarettes and his favourite knives. That was enough for him.
(If he thought a little more, he would have realized much sooner how desolate of a position he was in. But he didn't allow himself that luxury. Continue on forever without looking back. That was his motto.)
Exhaling a cloud of smoke, he threw the cigarette butt on the floor of the dirty apartment he lived in, which contained only the smallest of furniture. The room itself was sparsely decorated, which was fine with him. After all, it wasn't as if he spent much time here.
"Now." He spoke out loud to the empty apartment, preparing to leave. "The next case."
xXx
They called him a rent-a-killer agency. For a fee, he would kill anyone, regardless of morals, reasons, or power. A street rat, they murmured to each other. You can hire him for the same money you'd use to buy a hen.
The Lizard was his name, and it was feared by the faceless. Quick as a flash, you blink, and then he's right next to you, pulling a knife out.
That's horrible! They exclaimed. But why would he do that?
Who knows? He's just a sick, sick person.
It didn't matter to him. Gray Ringmarc simply didn't care.
His case today was relatively easy. Melody Song, the daughter of a rich merchant who'd offended his client by insulting their child.
Just kill her. That's simple enough for you, isn't it? His client had smirked condescendingly, sliding a photo of his target across the table. She was rather plain for a rich girl, Gray had noted. A small face framed by curly dirty blonde hair that fell across her face. Two empty voids where the eyes should have been.
Now, his golden eyes searched the crowd for a match. Blonde hair - no, that was a man.
There. Chatting animatedly to another girl, by the stall selling apples… His eyes trained on her face, lit up with joy.
Too easy. He drew his knife back and cocked his arm, preparing to throw. He waited a couple seconds. Three… two… one…
The knife left his hand, and Gray felt a surge of adrenaline as he watched it sail through the air, gleaming bright as the sun glinted off its metal blade. The faceless suddenly fell silent, and a hushed chill ran through the air. They understood the implications of the knife. Who would be its victim this time?
Melanie gaped uselessly as it flew towards her. For a few seconds, there was absolute terror in her eyes as she froze on the spot. Splick.
The knife embedded itself in her throat.
She clawed uselessly at her throat before falling to the floor in a heap. Her friend shrieked indignantly. "I've got blood on my shoes!"
Easy. Too easy. Not bothering to retrieve the knife, Gray slipped through the throngs of faceless who were continuing with their business. No one, after all, truly cared for lives. Everyone could be replaced.
No one even noticed him leave.
xXx
For once, his case wasn't the usual.
The land had changed from Spades to Diamond. That was fine with Gray; he didn't have much in Spades anyway. Besides, from what the Faceless whispered about, Spades was in a war with the afterimages, and they were losing. So, yes, he didn't particularly care about the sudden change in land.
To his surprise, people had already heard of him. Almost immediately, he was loaded with multiple requests. Only one caught his eye.
The picture was simple: gray hair tied in a miniature ponytail, medium height, strange clothing - but what caught his eyes were the pair of misty coloured eyes that stared into the camera. Nightmare Gottschalk, read the caption. Domain Leader. An incubus with the ability to travel through dreams, read thoughts (not strong) and other abilities (not enough information). Resides in train station.
Glancing up, Gray stared sharply at the faceless man sitting across from him. "What is the meaning of this?"
"I want you to kill him." The Faceless shrugged carelessly. "By any means possible."
"I know that," he spoke through clenched teeth, leveling his stare at his client. That hadn't been his question. Why on earth would they hire me to kill a Roleholder? "I'm just saying-"
"Can you kill him? That's my question."
"I said-"
"If you can't, then there's no use for you to be here. Leave." The faceless stared at him.
Gray counted silently to three. Then he exhaled, his breath hissing out through clenched teeth. Why not? It's just for the money. Besides, this was an interesting case. He'd never fought against a Roleholder before. The idea excited him.
"I'll take it."
His client smiled, revealing missing teeth. "Excellent."
xXx
It wasn't hard to find the incubus.
Gray had positioned himself in the train station a few time changes ago, and scanned the crowds as they thinned out. The train had arrived on time, and he spotted Joker, but no Nightmare. The Cheshire Cat visited a few times, but other than a quick greeting nothing interesting had happened. Gray had just started contemplating going home when he picked up on voices.
"I don't want to!" It was a boyish voice, the sound of a boy who should already be a man but hadn't quite grown into it yet. "I'm the boss- so I don't have to listen to you!"
"Sure." That was the Cheshire Cat. Gray would recognize the amused lilt in his tone anywhere. "That's why everyone here 'respects' you so much, right?"
"Sh- shut u-ack!"
Gray stared as the Roleholder doubled over in a fit of coughing with some incredulity. This was a Roleholder, the famous tyrants among the faceless? This was the powerful domain leader, who was able to destroy thousands of faceless at once? This?
This was pathetic. Could this young man really be the incubus?
Better to get this job over with. It's been a big disappointment so far.
He inched closer towards the Roleholders, careful to stay close enough but not too far. It wasn't hard to blend in among the faceless, who payed him no attention. Too easy. This was supposed to be a challenge.
When Gray was about two feet to Nightmare, the incubus suddenly looked in his direction. Misty grey eyes met gold for two seconds, and Nightmare stared at the assassin with a look of dawning recognition.
Now. He needed to act now.
Without any warning, without wasting a minute, Gray dove at the incubus. Boris cried out in surprise and scrambled out of the way. Nightmare wasn't so lucky.
In seconds, the incubus was on the floor, with a knife pressed against his throat. Gray felt his blood surging through his body, the thrill of getting to chase, to feel the fear in his target's eyes, to feel their pulse under his knife, to know he was in charge of deciding whether or not they lived or
died…
Nightmare disappeared.
What? Where was the incubus? Gray leapt to his feet in one fluid movement and immediately scanned his surroundings. The Faceless had cleared out of the rapidly emptying train station, the way they usually did when two Roleholders fought. (Except, Gray reminded himself, he wasn't a Roleholder, merely one with eyes. He had no duties.)
"That was rude," Someone scoffed near his shoulder. Acting on instinct, he whipped around and threw the knife towards the speaker. There was a muffled grunt as the blade skimmed Nightmare's cheek, and then the incubus was rolling around the floor in pain.
"Why would you do that?" whined Nightmare, clutching his cheek and pouting rather childishly. "Here I was, trying to give you another chance (and to look cool, because yes I am cool), and you throw a knife at me! What was that for?"
Gray stared at Nightmare incredulously. What was he supposed to say for that? Sorry, I was just trying to kill you, no hard feelings, right? Yeah, no.
Not to mention… This behaviour stirred something painful inside of him, something he forgot about. It was the same warmth that had lit up his body and made him feel alive as a kid.
The knife in his hand felt too heavy all of a sudden. He couldn't kill him.
So Gray turned away and ran back into the shadows, fleeing the guilt and humiliation and agony, back to where he belonged.
He didn't run fast enough. He still heard Nightmare call out, "Hey, what's your name?"
And he still answered, "Gray Ringmarc," his voice whisper soft.
xXx
It was becoming too much of a hassle.
What he thought was at first an easy task was turning out to be harder than he expected. It wasn't that he didn't try, after that first day; rather, each time he came close, something stopped him from killing the incubus.
Gray growled deep in his throat and punched the side of the building, creating a nice crater the size of his fist. This was so irritating. Why couldn't he just kill the damn incubus? Why?! What was stopping him?
Fine. I'll kill him today, he vowed.
He headed off, this time determined to find the incubus and end his life.
xXx
Nightmare was walking out of the Castle, where they held the Survey Meetings.
Apparently, the Gravekeeper won this time, followed by the mafia, then the Castle, and last of all the Train Station (to no one's surprise).
Gray waited for him to walk out, hiding in a deserted alleyway. It was right beside the main road, where Nightmare would have to go through, and it would be impossible to miss the incubus.
He heard the familiar sound of coughing, each cough picking up blood, each cough deep enough to make Gray's own chest ache. Each cough sounded as though it would tear the boy apart. That was enough to make him go down the memory lane, one he'd rather not walk.
Now.
Leaping out of his hiding spot, Gray raised his knife as he landed on the boy's chest. A startled gasp and a thin trail of blood spurted out of Nightmare's mouth, as the incubus struggled to free himself. Pressing the knife against the man's throat, Gray relished in the feeling of power. This - This was what it meant to be an assassin.
"Why me?" Nightmare gasped, his chest heaving as he breathed in heavily. "Why are you hunting me? What did I ever do to you?"
What did you do to me? Nothing. Be it Roleholder or Faceless; Gray killed them all and kept moving without sparing them a second thought.
They why - why - did this simple man stir up these feelings? If he truly wanted to kill the incubus, it would have been a long time ago. In fact - and, Gray didn't know why this startled him - this was the longest time he ever took on a case - over 40 time periods.
The answer was so obvious. Because those eyes, those misty gray eyes that were constantly a flurry of emotions reminded him so much of the times Gray thought he'd forgotten, of the simple joys of being a child.
And… He couldn't kill him.
Gray Ringmarc, the lizard, the feared assassin who could kill even the most skilled Roleholder, couldn't kill Nightmare Gottschalk, who was merely a weak Roleholder with no defenses.
The irony was heavy. Something in him felt lightened, like he was suddenly relieved of a burden he'd been unknowingly carrying this whole while.
The knife slipped out of his hand and thudded on the cobblestone street. Nightmare stared with wide, confused eyes as Gray got up and sheathed his knife.
"I can't kill you until you go to the hospital and get better."
And the incubus smiled. "You know," he called out to Gray's retreating form, "if you ever want to give up being an assassin, you could always work for me. You'd be a pretty good subordinate, you know!"
Ha. Subordinate. Gray allowed himself to divulge in the fantasy, before brushing it off. Yeah, right. No. He wouldn't. He wouldn't stain the pure canvas that was Nightmare Gottschalk with his inky darkness.
Still, the feeling when he thought about becoming Nightmare's subordinate left a warm feeling in his chest, and for once his memories of a long time ago didn't feel quite as heavy as they used to.
Maybe, just maybe, he could change.
xXx
It had become somewhat of a routine, one the other Roleholders had long gotten used to.
Every morning, Gray would rise up from his bed, pull on his usual attire, grab his knife, and walk to the Train Station, where he knew the incubus resided. Then he'd stroll in without a care in the world, ignoring the frantic faceless workers.
Occasionally, Boris would be lounging in one of the rooms, and he'd seek Gray out, looking for a fight. Gray would oblige (after all, he needed to stay in shape, and what better way than to duel a fellow Roleholder?) and they'd proceed to destroy half the room, only ending when one of them won. Most of the time, it was Gray.
After demolishing the room and leaving the faceless to clean up, Gray would head straight to the master bedroom, the one where he knew he'd find the incubus curled up under the covers like a caterpillar, struggling to retain as much of the warmth of the blankets as possible.
With a great whoosh, the covers fly off, and there's a shriek from the figure attempting to hide underneath them.
"Hey!" protested Nightmare feebly, wrapping his slender arms around his frail body, "Give me back my blankets!" the incubus tried to snatch the blankets back from the assassin. Gray tactfully withheld them away from the flailing arms.
"No." His voice was monotonous and stern, with just enough ice to cause the incubus to flinch. "Get up. Go to the hospital. Then come back for me to kill."
"I'm not doing that!" Pouting childishly, Nightmare finally got out of bed, still blinking the last few clutches of sleep out of his eyes.
This routine was… somewhat tedious, what with him having to wake the incubus up every morning, not to mention actually trying to persuade him to take his medicine… but some of it was… nice, in a way. It was nice to feel normal.
Not to mention, it felt weirdly warm and tingly when he thought of how easily he was accepted into the society of Roleholders, of guns and knives and betrayal and death, where Gray fit in so easily, where he didn't have to worry about the whispers following him because everyone else was the exact same.
If someone asked him what he felt at the moment, though Gray would deny it, even as he dragged a flailing Nightmare out the door for breakfast, insisting that it wouldn't be fun if the incubus wasn't strong enough to fight back.
…It didn't mean that it wasn't there.
xXx
Gray was being followed. He could feel it.
He wasn't stupid, like some of the Roleholders may have assumed. He'd noticed it quite a while ago, the strange double-timbre of his footsteps pounding against the cobblestone streets. When he halted, everything fell in a hushed silence. Too still, too silent.
It's not like it was a problem. Not yet. If the stalker happened to be particularly aggressive - well, Gray didn't fear being attacked; he almost welcomed it, welcomed the singing of blood running through his veins like gunpowder.
(It's been too long since he last had a serious fight. The daily run-ins with the Cheshire Cat are slowly losing its fun, and Gray needed to find new entertainment each day.)
So, the assassin turned the corner, taking a more deserted route down the alleyways. It'd be easier to question the faceless without multiple bodies acting as hindrances and being in the way. Much easier in a deserted alley.
The footsteps behind him slowed by a fraction, and Gray could almost taste their confusion. They're not entirely an idiot, and something about this situation seems strange. Gray waited, but the footsteps continue. He hid a smirk.
Some people were just so stupid.
Then, when he deemed the alley a good place to fight, he spoke up. "For someone trying to tail me, you really aren't that subtle."
He didn't turn around to look at the Faceless, but he heard him speak: "How did you know?!"
Gray snorted. "Did you really think you can tail me without letting me find out?" His hands edged towards his knives, which he can feel just on the edge of his fist, waiting to burst free and taste the blood of his stalker.
"True, I should have realized. I would expect nothing less from you," the faceless acknowledged.
Gray finally turned around to look at him, and narrowed his eyes. It was his client, who had made him the offer of killing the incubus. So why was he following him now?
"It's you." The words were resolute and strong, echoing around the alley. "What are you doing here?"
"Yes, it's me. I've come to talk to you about our deal. Nightmare Gottschalk is alive. Why?"
Of course it was this question. Gray tried to keep the sneer off his face. Like he'd answer to the puny faceless.
"That's none of your business." Gray's fingers closed around the cold hilt of his knife.
"I paid you, of course it's my business!" The faceless finally lost his composure, teeth bared and his eyebrows pinched tightly together in anger. "If you can't fucking finish the job, then - then -"
He never finished.
The knife flew through the air and cut through the faceless' throat. For a moment, he froze. Then, he stared at the knife in disbelief before collapsing onto the pavement.
Gray turned away and continued on his way, stepping over the clock.
xXx
The train station was silent when he visited.
Gray walked down the familiar stone streets, weaving around the familiar roads and opening the doors that he'd opened thousands of times before already.
There's something missing. He just couldn't quite figure out what it was.
The faceless he passed on his way are all unusually subdued, a silent hush, a gentle chill blowing across the station like a black cloud.
It's easy to ignore them. All Gray had to do was keep walking forward.
The large doors he pulled aside easily. And Nightmare was waiting, his arms folded behind his back, staring out the window at the train. When he spoke, his words were quiet. "Why?"
Gray hadn't been expecting that, and he grasped for a suitable reply. "What do you mean?"
Nightmare finally turned around, and his eyes were… anxious, almost. But there was something in there, something darker, something that looked cracked. "Why did you do that?" His words were louder.
Something cold settled in the pit of his stomach and Gray didn't respond to it. How would he, anyway? What was the incubus talking about?
He plowed on relentlessly, words flowing off his tongue like water off a leaf.
"I don't understand you. When I first met you, I thought, okay, he's a little lost without a role. Then you tried to kill me, and I found out you were an assassin sent to hunt me down. Nothing out of normal there. But then you ran away! You kept chasing me and never finishing the job - I didn't understand - and then I found out about Marco, and everything seemed to make sense, because obviously, it's grief and loneliness that's driven you to despair. But… But-!"
Gray stayed silent, his body feeling numb at the mention of Marco. Nightmare was hitting old wounds, reopening them and making him feel as though he was swimming in a pool, desperately trying to keep his head above the water even when he couldn't move his arms.
"And - and - you've been so nice to me, I thought you were finally ready to accept it… And along comes your client, and everything resurfaces. Yet you still run away from your past, without confronting it, and you're using me, I don't understand you…!" Nightmare cried, his arms moving frantically.
The room fell silent, and the incubus stopped talking, as if suddenly understanding what he was saying. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to - I just -" He abruptly stopped talking. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."
"I know." Gray surprised himself by speaking, his voice rougher than normal. He fought to keep a steady tone as he continued. He couldn't keep running. It wasn't helping. He would never say that he really didn't want to stop running, but something in the incubus' tone made it so much easier.
"I know I'm running, and I'm trying. It's hard. But, I think you're right." Gray tilted his head to the side, ever so slightly, and gave a small smile. "I'd like to stop. And, about that offer about becoming your subordinate…"
A small smile spread across Nightmare's lips, his grey eyes lighting up. He offered a hand. "Welcome to the train station. I'm Nightmare Gottschalk, your new boss."
Gray took the hand, so smooth and dainty, and was reminded of a long time ago, when he first took the hand of another small boy, who'd also been his saviour. Nothing had changed, even after all these years.
"Gray Ringmarc."
xXx
Being in Clover made it easier for Gray to start over. After all, the land had changed and (though he'd been pretty worried at first), he soon found another Nightmare Gottschalk.
Not exactly the same, of course - for starters, this Nightmare was much, much older, with a voice like smooth honey and something more… serious about him in general, but still the same inside.
Still the horrible work ethnic (honestly, Gray had been so exasperated by the incubus' repeated refusals to work, pawning it off on his subordinates… poor faceless), still the same level of childishness that had been easier to spot in his younger incarnation, still that uncanny ability to notice things others wouldn't.
It had, in a tiny part of his mind, made him glad that the incubus had remained (mostly) unchanged. It made it easier to adjust.
Although… Honestly, did his boss have to be such a child?
"No!" Nightmare cried, crossing his arms stubbornly over his chest. "I won't go to the hospital! I'm perfectly - ack - h-healthy!" Blood spurted out from between his lips and Gray suppressed a sigh.
"Lord Nightmare, it's just a check-up," he repeated for the millionth time, wondering when his boss would finally take care of himself. "That's it."
"You're lying!" the incubus refused, scowling childishly at his subordinate. "And - I'm fine! Not sick at all!"
"You were coughing up blood a minute ago, sir!" Gray exclaimed, this time allowing the irritation to colour his tone. "The hospital appointment was arranged several time periods ago, and you can't miss out on it. The sooner you get better, the faster you can finish your work!"
"Oh, great, my work!" grumbled Nightmare. "Why can't I ever have a break? It's all you tell me to do around here! Work, work, work! That's what subordinates are for! Why can't you be easier on me?"
"If I did that, sir, the Tower would have burnt down a long time ago!" Letting out a sigh, he shook his head and grabbed the incubus by the collar. "Come along, now, we're going, no matter what you say."
"H - hey! Put me down! Put me down! I - Gray! This is an order! Heeeelp meeee!" His pitiful wails echoed down the hallway.
xXx
In the end, Gray found out, it was better not to resist against Wonderland's rules.
He'd been lost as a child, a Roleholder without a Role, who'd been ousted by the other kids. And, looking back on it, some part of him had been incredibly lonely.
Which was why Marco had been such a saviour. He'd pulled Gray out of the dark ditch he'd been in… Only to shove him back in with his death. (In hindsight, it was kind of obvious that from that moment onwards, Gray had been internally cursing Wonderland and everyone who'd lived there and the horrible, horrible rules.)
Nightmare had been a light he could fixate on without gravitating away from his position, his 'Role'. It grounded him, prevented him from moving against the rules.
Wonderland was eternal. It kept going, despite the thousands of thousands of lives destroyed each day. Nobody was an exception to the rules. You couldn't leave, no matter how hard you tried to fight back.
Everything was the same, and everything would continue to be the same forever. It was just the way things worked in this dream, this world where everything was fluid.
The only way to be happy was to fall deeper into the dream, to lose yourself in it, to not think too much about everything around you…
So Gray allowed himself, for the first time, to fall into a dream that will never end, to carve out a path for himself in this unstable, unchanging world.
xXx
"Hello, I'm Alice Liddell."
END
Damn, this was long.
I can't tell you how long I've been plotting this. It feels so good to finally have it out on paper! I've gotten stuck so many times, I can't even remember how many times it was that I hunched over the computer and deleted entire pages.
Well, hope you liked it. :) I know, it's pretty OOC, and it divulges pretty far from canon (which I apologize for, seeing as I haven't played any of the DNKNA games.) But, if there's anything that you'd like me to fix, feel free to PM me or leave a review! :D
And, about the story: this was not a Gray x Nightmare story. Rather, this is my interpretation of Gray, because I love Gray, and his past is always so confusing, so I needed to get this down. And I added Nightmare because he made sense, logically, and plus Nightmare is my cinnamon roll how could I not add him I mean let's be serious he's an adorable bae -
I think you get it. :) REVIEW, please! And don't forget to check out my other HNKNA story,
WonderfulWondyWorld