A/N: Written for the 100 Prompts, 100 MCs Challenge, #31 – discerning.
Defining Masks
Chapter 1
The gentle patter of rain hid nothing of the shadow cutting through the beams the street-lights offered. It was the clouds and the otherwise empty streets that did that, the overcast Thursday afternoon a better coat than the bullet-proof black cloth stitched to fit his frame. The parcel in his arms thought otherwise: the black cat croaked stiffly, its voice barely audible above the quiet patters of rain and even quieter footsteps on asphalt.
Slivers of rain ran down his plastic mask, its weight and chill reaching to the taut skin underneath. He didn't twitch to them; he'd expected the drizzle after all, he'd prepared for it.
He left the streetlights and the drizzle and slipped into the gap between tall grey buildings, coat-tail flashing with his shadow behind him. He ran lightly, the rising bricks barely touched by his coat and not at all by skin. Light from the street seeped in from both sides, blocked only by his solid frame as he slowed.
When he emerged from the alley a few minutes later, it was lighter, without his parcel or mask, and coat turned inside out so the bottle green interior made him look a young student walking home after a late night job and searching only for sleep.
.
His mask was cracked, something that wasn't impossible, but on the whole uncommon and disliked. It was a barrier after all, a barrier between his personas as the Kuro no Shinigami, and as the almost innocent Li Shungsheng. But that wasn't strictly true, because the Syndicate agent Hei always wore the mask in the peak of a job, but rarely in its ebb or flow.
It was the mask he'd started wearing before his sister died, something done not out of necessity but out of want. A rarity for a Contractor, but to him, it was just another one of the many things that distinguished him from other, true, Contractors.
But his mask had cracked. He could feel the sharp ceramic cracks scratching his left cheek, even if he had felt no blow to his face nor had he seen any projectile coming his way.
He lifted a gloved hand to feel the crack, before drawing back in surprise as the mask shattered like a clay pot smashed into the ground. The pieces, all jagged but none alike in size or shape, fell at his feet, some scraping his boots and others marring the carpet of soft sand beneath him.
His fist clutched the single piece he'd caught on reflex, the tightly woven cloth of his glove preventing it from drawing blood. Still, the sharp edges digging into his skin was enough to make even a seasoned soldier wince – much less a Contractor who seemed incapable of letting go of human attachments.
He looked up, his face reflected in the shadows: eyes wide and afraid. Like a child, though he was an adult by age. Like an innocent daffodil tossed into the breeze, unmarred with flecks of dirt and grime and blood. Like ice-cream stained lips, sparking eyes dulled with shock and terror – except he was not like that, and the image reflected in shadow was nothing but a phantom who dared to tease.
He punched the air with the fist that held the jagged remains of his mask, and the shadows curled around his hand, reaching through and chilling the bone. Someone laughed in the darkness, a shrill echoing laugh, and he immediately went rigid, eyes taut and listening, listening for the voice who cackled so as his eyes started vacantly ahead.
His hold on the jagged ceramic piece loosened, and it shot suddenly out of his hand, ripping his glove. The other pieces rose as well, fighting each other in the darkness with clicks and clangs, putting itself together like an ill-kept jigsaw puzzle until his mask stared back at him, replacing the shadow he'd failed to shatter – except the thin red smile of his mask had become more curved, more mocking instead of meaningless marks etched to give a face its form.
The smirk stretched even wider, and Hei curled his fist and threw it forth in order to shatter it once more…except he hit nothing but air, and his arm trembled as he opened his eyes and found himself lying, soaked in sweat, in his bed.
Mao yawned and uncurled from under his windowsill, and Hei slowly lowered his arm. 'You've had an energetic start to the day,' he noted, taking in the soaked singlet and tensed muscles. 'You do know Contractors don't dream.'
'Our subconscious minds are more useful than foolhardy dreams,' Hei responded, sitting up feeling the warm apartment air dry his skin. 'I would much rather have dreams.' He tossed the covers off his already exposed legs and headed to the bathroom, ignoring the slippers waiting for him at the foot of the bed.
Mao sniffed, before licking the fur on his upper arm. 'As unconventional as always,' he said, before giving himself a little shake. 'Keeps things interesting, I must say.'
Getting no response, he continued grooming himself as Hei did the human equivalent, away from prying eyes. The methodical routines saw no change to them: he licked the fur of his right arm first, then his left, then slowly extended to the rest of his body. By the time he'd won over his tail's morning frizz, Hei had emerged from the bathroom with hair damp and flat across his scalp, and dressed in a white shirt and jeans and his trademark – or Li Shungsheng's trademark, rather – green jacket.
Mao raised an eyebrow. 'I hope I'll at least get breakfast.'
He suspected Hei had rolled his eyes at the comment as he disappeared into the kitchen, but it was impossible to tell and even more impossible to get Hei to confess.
'I'm not sure I like this job of yours very much,' Mao continued. 'Waking up at seven in the morning every day.'
'Cats should take advantage of the sunlight,' Hei responded, the sound of a knife chopping dancing with the sizzling of something frying and his almost-monotonous voice. It was something that came with ease now, almost unintentional, though for too long he'd been scolded for having too much emotion in it. 'Your fish is ready.'
'Oh, good.' The desire was palatable in Mao's voice, and anyone hearing him would have assumed a cat with a human voice over a human in a cat's form. He reared up on hind legs and accepted the plate offered to him, sinking his teeth into the warm fish and scraping around the bones.
By the time Hei had packed his alias a bento box and heaped his plate with rice and fried fish, Mao had polished off his own breakfast. 'Getting any closer to the copycat?' he asked, as Hei set about inhaling his own plateful of food.
'Your humour needs some work,' Hei replied, between mouthfuls of rice and fish. 'And perhaps.'
Mao snorted. "Perhaps" meant not much at all. 'Yin hasn't been having much luck either,' he remarked. 'Huang's on his last leg with the both of you.'
'Tell him I'm narrowing it down,' Hei said, shoving the last spoonful into his mouth and standing up. 'I'm off now.'
Mao saw himself out the door before Hei could look it.
.
Li Shungsheng was a liberal arts major who preferred to get some exercise in walking to the university as opposed to driving or taking the bus, or that was the persona he wore this time. It worked remarkably well with his usual cover story, as the papers forged to obtain him a student apartment, and later replicated for various odd jobs, all cited the same course and university as his reference. In essence, Li Shungsheng had been attending the university for the better part of a year, and in such a large and spread-out environment, it was very easy for a person who matched the image provided to the administration to slip in and take up the name.
It was convenient, particularly as the Syndicate had ordered him to attend campus and investigate. Three days had yielded nothing so far, and his foray into university life had yielded, so far, nothing of use. He'd found many an animal lover, but most of them of the female gender and none matching the form provided. It also didn't help matters that the target, this time, was no Contractor – the frigid bodies of cats left in alleys were done by electricity, no doubt, but not through a Contract. The Syndicate had been sure of that, meaning there had been no activity from any known star during the window of death.
It wasn't what a member of the Syndicate would usually be sent to investigate, or so one would think. Except the police had made a disturbing connection: the stiff corpse of black cats, the electricity, and most recently, the masks left at the scene, all extended to a priority target of Section 4: the Kuro no Shinigami.
Hei had been somewhat amused; since the police could not speak publicly about Contractors, they'd made him a serial murderer, tracing what cases they assumed he had a hand in, and missing quite a few in between. Because he had nothing to do with those murders, and maybe the police knew it as well and were just using it as a convenient excuse to finally catch him.
Having the media on their side this time did give them an edge, but it didn't do them a lot of good while he had his alias safely veiled from them. Li Shungsheng could walk right past the police station and no-one would bat an eye, because no-one likened Li Shungsheng to the Kuro no Shinigami.
It made pretending he was just a normal human being like everybody else a whole lot easier.
He nodded and smiled and waved in turn – waved at the more enthusiastic greeters while still maintaining an air of shyness. Shyness was a good mask. A reason to avoid most of the social endeavours. A reason to avoid close companionships and society involvements. A reason he could use to fade into the background of the college roll – to appear to enough classes so that he was noticed, but not enough so that he was long remembered.
It was perfect for a Contractor who only used the college as a cover – like most of his part-time jobs. No-one questioned how he jumped between them because it was all based on timetabling and need for money and a whole array of other things – or where alarm bells were raised. This time, it was purely need for money. The alarm bells rang on the college campus. He kept his eyes peeled there.
Of course, his classmates realised nothing. To them, he was the same Li Shungshen they had attended class with for almost half a year. That shy and not very social but friendly guy when approached. That guy who had a cat and who liked animals in general.
That had been mostly because of Mao, but it was coming in even more use now. It was easier to have been an animal lover to become one. And it was less suspicious when he spun a story about his cat being ill while searching, always searching, for someone who fit the profile he'd received.
And, meanwhile, Yin was some place with water and searching too: searching for black cats, and searching for their killer.
.
People talked, and that made things simpler. People talked about the cats being found, electrocuted, in alley ways. People talked about the masks that had been found. People talked about masks and general and Li Shungsheng was very careful about the mask he wore. Not that ceramic one that belonged to the Kuro no Shinigami and his black coat, but the invisible one that defined the skin he now wore.
People talked, and he listened, commented and took note at all the appropriate places. It didn't look strange at all: two classmates talking before a lecture, two classmates talking over lunch, two classmates passing notes while the man in front rambled on about something nonsensical.
There was lots of talk about the murders, but little fact. He was wary to not give anything more. Wary to protect his other self. That mask.
The Kuro no Shinigami had always been an urban legend, but now it was spreading: beyond the Contractors, beyond the police force, and into the public eye.
'I wonder what he was in for before. To – you know – have a criminal record.'
'It's creepy. Of all the ways to kill, why electrocute?'
'Not to mention dangerous. They could make one mistake in this rainy season and turn up fried themselves.'
'Serves them right if they do. And that'll make the police's job a whole lot easier too.'
'Li-kun, you'd better keep a sharp eye on your cat. I heard he doesn't discriminated between wild, stray or pets.'
And Li Shungsheng would nod and make some comment of acceptance and gratitude and the conversation would pass over again.
And he would go back to listening, and searching – though not expecting – any new news.
That would be too clumsy of somebody so well hidden. Too…easy.
.
It started raining again that afternoon, and Shungshen Li hurried home on account of his sick cat, donned his coat and mask, and emerged the Kuro no Shinigami into the storm. Yin's spectre followed him, at home in the rain. Mao, the opposite, stayed at home.
And if anyone stopped by, it looked simply as though he'd slipped out to fetch more medication for the cat.
But the truth was more deceptive, and more brutal. He was hunting a killer. And this was more like the hunt. No playing the innocent persona. Just wearing a mask to protect it. And the rain poured off his waterproof jacket and waterproof mask, leaving his eyes dry and free to search.
Such weather was becoming common, and the murderer seemed to enjoy such weather. It would make him easier to catch in the act.
And a part of him wondered how the copycat would react to seeing the real Kuro no Shinigami.
Mao had laughed when he'd said that. 'Pride becomes Contractors,' the black cat said.
'Remember the target this time,' Hei had responded. Mao was in just as much danger as other cats – but that didn't matter. There was plenty of wild-life for him to inhabit should one body become unavailable.
No, Hei was not worried about Mao at all. Nor was he worried about his reputation. Fear was fear, no matter who spread it. And fear was a cloak.
He looked like a shadow flitting through the sheets of rain, ears covered by the sound of pounding drops but eyes free, eyes straining to see through that veil. And he chased every like shadow: every shadow his height, every shadow the shape and statue of a cat.
And then he saw Yin's spectre coming back to find him and he knew they'd found something. Maybe too late.
Another shadow, as tall as him. But different. Inferior. He had some sort of mechanical device that spat sparks in the heavy rain. And his mask was cracked.
The masks were always broken by the cats.
He saw Yin's spectre reach out for the cat behind the man – or if he was the same as the others, he was a man – and then vanish. To tell Huang, perhaps. And the man would come with insults and cigarette smoke washed away by the rain and his gun and it would all be over.
But that was okay. This wasn't the stage. Part of the hunt. The information gathering.
It didn't matter that it was hard to make out anything specific in his features in this rain. It grew heavier, more frequent. It hadn't been raining much when it began. That cat survived.
The water conducted electricity. The cat was in a puddle. Twitching now. But its heart had probably already stopped. Soon, the tetanic contractions would stop as well. The cat would be stiff. Broken. Dead.
He had his orders. Search. Define. Do not act.
That cat would die.
It didn't matter whether he really did like cats or not. Contractors had no such attractions.
Then again, he wasn't a typical Contractor.
Still, he knew when it was important to wait, to sacrifice.
The Syndicate would not protect him from the police if he gave them proof. They would cast him aside as a loss.
He was still self-preserving.
And his mask was whole.
The curtain of rain hid them well. The coat was black. The sleeves were black too. Any movement there was obscured in the splash of black against the rain that looked almost white.
The Kuro no Shinigami was a man who could draw his blade in such a blanket, or even a more transparent one, without alerting his opponent.
Often, he could draw the first blood before he was noticed.
But this time that was impossible. Because the other had watched him approach.
Still, the knife came out, gleam hidden within the cloth of his coat. It waited. The shadow opposing him drew near.
He threw the knife.
It hit something and fell into a puddle of rain.
The man stepped closer. Dressed in black. Masked: with a broken mask.
The crack had grown bigger. He'd aimed for flesh, but if the mask fell off –
Hei stepped closer, to meet the copycat.
The mask did not fall.
The other's hand came off, mimicking the Hei from the dream who'd felt the cracks he wore on his face. Except the mask did not crumble underneath those fingertips. Except he wasn't grabbing for the shards that fell.
'It won't come off.'
It wasn't a loud voice by any means, nor was it defining. It was mechanical. More wires. More electronics.
Hei stared carefully through the rain to see if he could find the source. Another knife might take care of it, if his aim was true, if there was sufficient distraction of the other party –
'All masks come off.'
The laugh was mechanical as well: the laugh that sounded after his words, his return. 'Indeed, they do' There was a pause, and a mocking: 'Kuro no Shinigami.'
He stepped closer, and his arm made an obvious motion: as though to knock into He's face, or rather the mask he wore. He dropped back in response: dropped into a fighting stance and fingered another knife, just in case.
'You will take your mask off as well,' said the mechanical voice with another laugh, before he backed away.
Hei saw Yin's spectre following, so he let them go.
His apartment awaited. A sick cat that wasn't so sick, some food, and his futon begging, in the dark, to be made use of.
.
The mask was broken again. He wondered why. He wondered if it was because of that voice, those words. Those comments about masks: his mask, the other's mask…
A mask that looked less and less like his own. But whether that was his eyes changing or the circumstances – or even the rain becoming more of a barrier between sight and truth, he didn't know.
And, so long as the suspect was apprehended and dealt with, it didn't matter.
Though he wasn't too sure why. It wasn't pride, no matter how Mao might mock his lack of certain Contractor traits: his acceptance of certain human ones. Pride was not one of them, he thought. Pride had never been one of them. He hadn't had much to be proud about. Except Bai. Except protecting Bai. But that was all over now too.
And suddenly Bai was there, her soft hands fingering the edges of his mask, hooking under them.
'Come, big brother,' she said softly. 'I'll take your mask off for you.'
He froze. That voice was one he hadn't heard in so long – and last he'd heard it, it had been different, so different. She'd been trying to protect him, then. Trying to keep his involvement at a minimal. And before that was the Syndicate. The contract. All their changes.
Her voice hadn't sounded so sweet since the sky had changed. Had put on its mask.
She pulled off his mask, and suddenly she was a cat, claws scratching at the porcelain. He made a snatch for it, but the cat hissed and scratched at him again.
He grabbed the mask, but it broke into two in his hands. And his hand and face both stung. Both wore scratches from those claws.
The cat licked its claws, watching as Hei brought those two pieces of the mask together, as though they would meld and become one.
They wouldn't. They didn't. They just broke into more, smaller, pieces until he couldn't hold them anymore. Until it was like fine sand slipping through his fingers.
Somehow, the tiny grains snuck through his gloves and scratched at his hands.
And his face was bare and burning with the fresh wind, staring as the grains of sand rose, reconnected and was worn by that smirking shadow.
'Why..?' he began, feeling young and lost and confused. 'Who – who are you?'
The lips moved, but he heard no answer pass from them. There was a barrier in between. A barrier he couldn't identify and understand, and therefore a barrier he could not penetrate.