A/N: This takes place during the time when Creed and Train were partners in Chronos, before Train met Saya. So if Train seems OOC, he IS NOT. It says in the books this is how he was before he met the witch.

Creed's POV

The bodies fell around us like shards of glass from a broken mirror. Train and I moved in unison, the perfect pair, each of us watching the other's back. We held our own, needing no protection. Sephiria had paired us together, and given us missions—this was just one of many. Our target was strong, with plenty of hired men, but none of them were any match for us. Train, with Hades, and I, with Imagine Blade.

With a slash of my arm, three men fell dead. I was so easy it made me laugh. They were pathetic, weak. I barely spared the others a glance as I cut them down, their screams twisting into a distorted melody with myself as their composer. Instead of them, I watch Train. Train…my black cat, my lucky 13. His hair is wild as he fights, shooting, spinning out of danger, and delivering swift, deadly kicks. A grim smile stretches across his lips, and his golden eyes burn with an intensity that takes my breath away. A man lunges for him in a futile attempt to live, but is shot point blank in the throat. Train's eyes seem to be pools of molten metal, fiery and dangerous. Blood sprays have spattered across Train's face, and in places, his silky chestnut hair drips with the substance. I let my eyes drink him in, hoping that maybe, just maybe, his image will be burned into my vision forever. Nothing will ever be more beautiful than him.

I slice four men in half with a single swipe of my sword, and with a pang of surprise, I realize that only five bodyguards remain. Did we really just kill over seventy men in less than eight minutes? Not quite a record for us, but I never cease to be astounded at how brilliant Train and I are together. He reloads his gun coldly, and the last few men turn to run, but before they can move more than a few feet, he's shot them down. They crumple atop their fallen comrades, and the harmony of screams stops, their last cries echoing in the air. Aside from our heavy breathing the only other sound is that of our target, kept alive to be the last kill, sniveling on the floor.

"Please…I've got children…" the man begs, but gains no sympathy. If we were the merciful type, we wouldn't have made him watch as his power fell before us. All he was now was a pathetic remnant of a man who used to be powerful, used to have an army of followers, all dead by our hands. In the end…he was just a man.

Train slipped one last bullet into Hades, and aimed for the man's forehead. Before he could shoot, I stepped towards him, smirking. I held my hand out in front of the gun. Flashing him an evil, eager look, I ready my sword.

"Allow me to deliver the bad luck this time, my feline noir…"

His eyes met mine for one heart stopping moment, and he lowered his gun. I stepped in front of him and smiled down at the weakling in front of me.

"Adieu."

His blood coated the ground before he could even yelp.

I turn back to Train, sheathing my sword. I catch his gaze, and feel my heart race with more excitement in that moment than it did during the battle. I take his hand in my own slightly more bloodied hand, and smile at him.

"You killed beautifully tonight."

"It's not like they didn't have it coming. They were filth, they were asking for it."

"They asked…and you delivered gracefully."

"I suppose…you did too."

"Merci."

His eyes, not as infernal as before, seemed to pull me in with their fire. Somehow, there was a deeper rhythm to his gaze, perhaps the flickering of fire in his soul…or perhaps our hearts had beaten as one for a moment. Either way, time froze, and I melted, letting myself become immersed in his golden orbs.

He held my gaze, and did not look away.

Before I knew it, I had closed the distance between us. He pounced like a feral cat, and I met his lips with my own.

Sparks flew between us as my ice collided with his conflagration. My lips brushed his with heated fervor, and I longed to deepen the kiss. Against mine, his lips felt like the softest rose petals, like the hottest autumn sun…

He was calm. There was no open mouthed, frantic, lust driven kissing—just a simple kiss, held for a few moments longer than normal.

So very like Train…

But of course, with Train, a simple kiss was all I needed to fly, to drown…to burn alive…

However, I knew that as long as I would wait, he'd always leave me waiting, begging for more.