D. Gray-man: Alternate Universe? Try Time Travel!:
Chapter 1: Burn with me
Author's note: HA! Doctor Who references, and what not.
Anyway, this chapter is my new story about D. Gray-man. Don't worry; this story has to introduce you to the OC main protagonist, Adam first off. So no time-travelling.
Yet.
For those that are saying that Tykki is OOC, I tried the best I could to make him as he normally is but well I can't do everything perfectly.
Disclaimer:
I do not own D. Gray-man, nor do I own any characters from the Manga/Anime. Besides Adam, but he's just a OC.
Adam: You wanna run that one by me again?
Me: Oh, uh, Adam. Shouldn't you be on that train?
Adam: Yeah yeah, I'm going there soon. But what did you say about me, just an OC?
Me: Well, you are "Just" an OC.
Adam: *Activates flame Innocence* How about I see what happens when I set your hair on fire. *Grinning*
Me: Err, right. Enjoy the read viewers, now if you don't mind, I'm going to go get health insurance. *Sprints*
AN SUPERIOR:
Hello there ladies and gentlemen. I welcome you to my story. Now, first things first, I want to say that I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did so making it. Sincerely, I do. For me, this stories isn't just words, and before I go on I want to mention that I am not trying to be melodramatic or anything like that, it is an anime.
WAIT WUT
Yes, yes, I know. This story is an Anime to me? Well...yes. It is. For me, every scene is done in Anime. Every mental image is drawn with pixels and sparkles and big ol' eyes and hot as hell characters. But that isn't the main reason. The main reason I view this as an Anime, is because it does the same thing for me that an Anime does. It gets me involved in a universe that doesn't have to abide by life's rules. It doesn't have to make everyone's life miserable (granted, that makes for good anime but that's besides the point), nor does it mean that it has to end sadly. For me, Anime is a way of escaping reality, to a world where we can change what happens, to world where we don't have to deal with our own problems, to a world where the good things happen to good people and bad to bad people. For me, Anime is an escape, in of itself. An escape that I hope you all can enjoy as much as I do.
So, read on, and escape our harsh reality with me. Into a (hopefully anyway :P ) better one.
Enjoy.
This is going to be a long ride, for both of us.
You know, they tell tales of those that sacrificed their lives "For The Greater Good". They also tell tales of those that sacrificed their lives "For The Greatest Amount of YouTube Hits." The former are heroes; something I could only ever strive to be, the latter losers, something I can't help but feel like currently.
Why loser? Well, it's simple. I'm losing. Nothing to it. Just as a bird flies, grass grows and sun shines, I lost considerably.
Currently, I'm on the track to lose my life.
Why to lose my life? Simple. I'm burning myself alive with an Akuma; a level 3 to be exact, to save a person that would sooner see me dead than thank me.
"Stupid Exorcist! YOU'LL DIE WITH ME!" The level 3 Akuma yelled, pretty obviously.
"Thank-k, y-you, captain, obv-vious." I stuttered, pain preventing complete speech.
For details, here they are. The Akuma wasn't far from me; the Iron Maiden-esq creation of mine was only able to accommodate so much space after all. The fire within was of my life-force; ordinary fire just wouldn't cut it, damn Akuma armour had to high a melting point to be annihilated.
The battle had been one sided through and through; nothing I could do would harm him, and with my brother so close, I had no other option. I either died alongside my brother, or he lived and I didn't. For me, to die, in a cleansing fire of some mock form of redemption, was like heaven. I was absolved of my crimes, in the flames of hell, and whilst it hurt, a physical agony could never quite match my mental one.
The excruciating pain evoked the same shout one would get from years of pent up frustration and guilt; long, arduous, and only befitting of the actions of the monstrosity making such a sound.
Whilst I can never describe the feeling of such a situation, that being burning yourself alive's agony mixed with saving my brother relief's and fatalism's happiness, I can tell you this. It was the weirdest thing I had felt up to that point.
Well, weird in terms of things not about your mother.
Ha, I thought. Can't stop me now, 'cuz I joking up a good time!
In a strange form of hilarity, or perhaps one that made perfect sense, my thoughts drifted from death to the living; more specifically, the Supervisor of the North American branch.
"How dare you die on the battlefield! Do you know how it'll look on my report that you've DIED?" I've known her long enough to realise that'll be word for word her statement upon returning.
An assessment of her character can be given perfectly with this speech she often gives me:
"Come on! This is just Akuma! I have the utmost faith in you, Adam. I know that you'll become the strongest Exorcist of all of us someday! You'll get so strong, and muscly that all the women will faun all over you! Isn't that what all men want?"
I'm never motivated, but to avoid her strangling (Which she does to quite comedic effect. Well, if you're not me) I humour. What a wonderful relationship, when you think about it; one based on fear.
At least, this way, I always know what to expect from her. A good strangling and a bad pep talk.
"HAH! YOU FOOL! THERE ARE DOZENS, NO, HUNDREDS MORE LIKE ME! AN EXORCIST THAT DIES FIGHTING JUST ONE LEVEL 3 DOESN'T EVEN DESERVE HIS INNOCENCE!" The level 3 ranted, his words barely reaching a noise level above the crackling of fire, obliterating everything and anything.
It didn't matter anymore, responding to him, what I did this for; all of it was engulfed by the flames that were consuming every other aspect of existence. All of my senses, sight, touch, smell, hearing, and taste, all respectively replaced by the fire.
All was orange.
All was pain.
All was ash.
All was smouldering.
All was bitter.
All was being destroyed; including me, before me.
The more and more my mind fell into the abyss of death, or at least unconsciousness, the more it screamed to keep my eyes open, the more it shouted to escape anyway possible, the more it screamed to live. The answer was the same on all accounts:
I can't. It's just not possible.
Waiting. Waiting was all I could do. Set myself down in front of the Grim Reapers door after knocking politely, and wait for a response.
To pass the time in such a strangely numb state I was in, more than likely due to the destruction of my nerves, I thought over myself.
Did I have a life worth living?
Such a thing has been debate of many men, all of them greater than me, for innumerable amounts of time.
I was born in America, in California on the 4th of July, in Chicago.
I never knew quite my parents; strange, I know. My relationship with them was never close, in fact, it was quite distant. I was not the son greeted daily, I was the child who just so happened to be living on the same premises as them. That was my innermost thoughts on the matter.
However, the life I had known as a child was tossed into a great, blazing inferno one day, when I was 8.
It was the same as any other night, but I awoke, without knowing why, and went into the kitchen of my home. Nothing was suspicious; at first glance, that is. The second glance revealed interesting results however, very different result matter of fact.
There, on the stove was the kettle, boiling. Sure that my parents hadn't left the stove on when they went to sleep, I approached the great boiling beast with trepid steps and a cautious mindset.
Inside the kettle was something unimaginably odd. 'Twas my Innocence, and it was being boiled for whatever reason. The same kind of compulsion one would get when seeing a member of their family drowning came over my being, and with no consideration whatsoever, I extradited the Innocence with my bare hands.
It burned. Oh lord, it burned. I held a piece of boiling hot Innocence in my right hand, and it didn't just hurt, it seared the flesh from my hand, and replaced it with itself. I found myself to be compatible the worst way possible; via test run of its power, power that I was incapable of controlling.
Said power was the manipulation of fire; fire, that spread straight from my hand, and onto everything . The curtains. The drapes. The carpet. The wood of the house itself. Everything burned, because everything burns. The blaze became uncontrollable, the agony in my hand too great for me to even move, so I had no choice in the next matter.
Whether my parents lived through the inferno, or not.
The family I had was cut in two. I had four members in it, my uncle, my parents and my brother. Now, the last two were the only ones alive, and my brother made sure to never let me forget it.
The emotion behind his eyes made the Innocence pale in comparison. His eyes shot holes in my soul with a 44 magnum, never reloading, never relenting.
As per house fires, I later found myself in a hospital, and as such, in a hospital bed. It was just after the police, of who had numbed expressions, interviewed me about the whole incident, I met a General of the Black Order. General George Fitzpatrick, Accommodator of the Innocence "Rogue's Cloak".
The man wore a cloth; navy blue in colour, around the lower half of his face, so I never saw anything of it below his eyes. Speaking of which, their similarities to the colour of the cloth was uncanny; to the point in where one would think he based the cloth on them. As for hair, he had plenty of it, but kept it organised in a single pony tail that trailed all the way down to his neck, and slightly beyond. The dark blue cloth was in fact part of a matching get up of the same substance; he wore a cloak the same material as the cloth, more than likely another part of it, which extended to his kneecaps.
The cloth never wavered; it stood stock still as he moved, as if it were a separate entity, which judging by the glowing cross on the back of it, it probably was.
He took strides to get to me, and knelt to see me better, as the height difference between us was certainly something to write home about. His expression, or lack thereof for that matter, never told me a thing about the man. He had no pity, no sympathy, and no worry. No urge to comfort me, no urge to tell me that it was going to be alright, and no urge to grasp in any way shape or form.
I took the opposite of exception to this; joy filling me at the thought that I wasn't going to talked down upon after such an event happening to me.
He spoke; nothing else, just spoke, a question for me. "Child. Have you ever heard of Innocence?"
When I shook my head, he explained it to me. All of it. The story of the Akuma, Innocence, and my part as an Exorcist to help humanity.
I couldn't have been happier to be given a purpose again. My problem with my parent's death was erased; there was no reason to feel sad anymore. My logic had ground to stand on, and with it I could overcome my sadness.
How naïve I was at that time of the road ahead.
However, my fretting over the safety of my brother came first that day, and I had to ask what would happen to him. He didn't lie; no matter how much I wished he did. He explained to me that my brother was found to be an accommodator as well, and would have to be taken with me to the Black Order. He held no excuse; no explanation for why it had to be my brother to fight in a war he had just minutes ago told me was nearing its end, and not for the better. He told me to take it up with God if I had a problem with Innocence, since that seemed to the most effective method of understanding Innocence and their motives to date.
I ecstatically, and fearfully, agreed to become his apprentice. My brother was to become the apprentice of another General like him, or so I was told, although the identity of said person was unknown to me.
"I'll go with you, if you promise that my brother will never be put in harm's way." My condition was, I believed, fair, and as such he wasted no time in responding.
"I swear, on my honour as an Exorcist, I will protect your brother to the best of my ability."
And that was that, I became an Exorcist as not only did God have a hell of a sense of humour, but since he was an unholy sadist.
The mission we took that day was a simple one; albeit, unmemorable, as I can't seem to remember the point of it. What I do know was the mission was between me and my brother, the one who hated, but still tolerated, me.
The fighting had been intense, obviously. Could it be any other way for an Exorcist? During it, a slip up resulted in my brother downed, at the mercy of a level three. In a fit of fury, I caged the Akuma with my Innocence, myself getting caught up in it as well by mistake. Or maybe God just hates me, as that would explain why he forced Innocence upon me; I dunno. Might explain a lot actually.
The red flames turned blue; a colourful sign of just what it was using to exterminate the Akuma, my life-force.
Despite the bright flames, darkness seeped into my vision ever so slowly, and eventually overcame it entirely.
{Arise, the majestic Phoenix!}
My vision returned to me in a flash. (Geddit) The Innocence used to construct the "Cremation Coffin" as I dubbed it, receded into my arm. My form didn't stay standing any longer than was possible in such a situation, as I fell to the floor smoke trailing behind.
Contrary to the sheer agony expected form being reminded of all my wounds sustained during the fight, pleasure, of the raw kind, came over my skin, my being, my soul.
It was pleasant; to the extent that it was sleep inducing.
I blinked, and held my eyes closed for a small expanse of time.
I blinked again, and held my eyes closed for a moderate expanse of time.
I blinked yet again, and held my eyes closed for a long time.
I blinked, again, and held my eyes closed until I inattentively drifted off.
{Get him to a hospital!}
One year later…
Rattle. I threw my eyelids back, wiped the sleep from my eyes and sighed. I was day dreaming again; of the event in where I had my closest call to date.
The day I burned myself alive.
Shaking my head to remove the sentence from my mind's eye, I swept the train, visually, for a threat. None were apparent to the common glance.
Albeit from my seat on the train I was on, I couldn't see much. The window, the seats, and the people, all opposite of me, were all visible. The people in the rows beside me, to the left and the right, and opposite of those seats and the people residing within them and so on were not.
I examined what I could see of my surroundings thoroughly; nothing of note was there for first glance, the casual one I made earlier, and then came the secondary glance, the predatorily accurate one. With eyes beyond calculating, I scrutinised every detail, and came up with a hit not that long in. Said hit was an Akuma; undoubtedly, from the way it seemed to carry itself. My master, George Fitzpatrick (A name very unsuited for a man with a Japanese lineage, thinking about it) taught me to examine all details, and choose the best option for you to ensure your survival.
He taught me how to read people; it wasn't that hard to grasp the difference between human and Akuma, I had been a pick-pocket as a child after all. My prey, so to speak, was a young woman with magnificently dark purple hair and wearing a nondescript blue long-sleeved t-shirt, no sleeved sweater of the inverse colour on top, and tom boy level of short shorts.
Mentally marking her with the LT button, I approached, hearing the typical heartbeat that indicated my target was nearby, and pressed X when in range. The last thing she heard, before the Hidden blade conjured up my sleeve turned her into a shish kebab, was me whispering into her ear, particular words.
"Requiescat en pace," were those words. Her ears perked; not fully, as the blade prevented her from doing so.
I didn't even bother gazing at the explosion, as I was already out of that particular train carriage and onto the next by the time she did explode.
Damn, I thought. I only got a silent bonus. God damn half a second decides between 3 hundred and 2 hundred points, grumble grumble. Should've just used poison. That would've net me another 2 hundred then and there, damnit. People passed me in a mad dash to escape, terrorism their instant reaction to seeing an explosion on a train, however I paid them no heed as I scanned through them for any other potential threats.
I was still only human, but only just, therefore with all the panic temporarily caused by the explosion I couldn't make heads or tails of anything or anyone. Having no choice but to risk it, I progressed forward, towards the front of the train. It was nearing the destination I had to 'stop off' at, anyway.
The train had been in a tunnel-esq part of New York, in the sense that all the looming buildings had prevented any form of light from penetrating the windows. It would have been dark, pitch black even, only without Riddick, if the lights weren't on-board.
Through the nondescript window of the unremarkable train, I could see the end of the tunnel drawing near, quite quickly actually.
As the train burst out of the tunnel like some kind of scene from Alien, I found, in my vision, was what I was looking for; the Innocence, embedded into a billboard, directly opposite of this train. How it got there was irrelevant, how I get there however wasn't so. Devising a plan, one laced with sheer stupidity, was easy. Pulling it off was another story.
I took a few steps back, and prepared myself as I was about to do the unthinkably awesome.
Yes, I am the embodiment of theatrics itself. Or at least, that's what I considered myself to be.
I was this far away from running and jumping out the window, when…
"Oi, boy. Aren't going to jump out that window there, are you?"
The voice belonged to a slowly being corrupted; at least that was what it looked like given his darkening skin, man. Tall, dark and most certainly handsome; and he walked as though he knew it. From my difference in height, I could see under his fringe, and straight at the Stigmata lining his forehead.
Noah! All instincts of mine said to run, continue my run up and escape, whereas years of honed fighting experience was telling I would never make it to the window. I only had one choice, stand and fight, even if it cost me my life, a price that I was unhappy with I assure you.
I readied my Innocence, making a fiery sword and shield defend myself. "Tsk tsk. Haven't you learned about the wonders of heat transference? In this train, the conduction would spread incredibly quickly. Which would kill everyone single person on this train. You can't fight me here without killing innocent people." He said smugly.
"But," He continued, hand convulsing. "I can do with you as I wish." The convulsions stopped.
His speed was blaring; his hand was through my chest before I could bat an eyelash.
"Relax boy, as the Noah of Pleasure I can choose what objects I can touch." He paused, lethally. "What do you think would happen if I decided that it would be a good idea to rip out that heart of yours?" He tried pulling his arm back inside my body, as it went through, but couldn't.
"What trickery is this, boy?" He inquired.
"My skin is mostly made of Innocence," a partial lie admittedly; only on my right side had the Innocence spread, and I was lucky as hell that had decided dead centre in my chest was the best place to put his hand, as it went no further than that, "Old Man, so you can't choose to remove your hand without ripping off your arm." I retorted, mimicking his expression when he first spoke to me.
"Clever, boy." He spoke. "Say, do I know you?"
"No, we've never had the pleasure of meeting before. I'm sure I would have remembered." I responded, puzzled.
His face was annoyingly close to mine; he was examining my face as though it was a work of art.
"Ah! That's right! You remind me of that buffoon, the first Millennium Earl." He grunted, "he acted like such a clown." He admitted. "But, say, boy, do you think you can kill me?"
I had already realised the possibility that if I killed him now, his arm would materialise, and since he went straight through my heart it would kill me near instantly.
"Let me guess, you powers only work on limbs attached to your body, so if I kill you then you're arm will materialise inside of me and kill me. And I'm guessing that since you haven't simply let it materialise that you don't want to get your clothes stained. So, we're stuck here, until either your compatriots or mine find us, and then yank your arm out of me." I said.
He gave me a smirk that practically signed my death warrant then and there. "Not quite. Have I ever told about my 'Teez'?"
Well, it's safe to assume that I'm fucked.
30 minutes later….
My vision had become impaired several minutes prior to then, and it hurt to breath, to move, to do anything really, after 15 minutes of fighting this man. A nibble from his Teez had replaced all feeling with numbness in my left arm, and a poorly deflected blow with my right hand had left the wrist aching uncontrollably.
The battle had quickly escalated out of the train and to the front door of the building which possessed the Innocence embedded sign, and was not going in my favour. I had barely scratched the man; me, he had gotten plenty of. He had enough of my blood inside his god damn butterflies to last a lifetime, or to make another me, and I was definitely showing for it. My legs shook, all my hits were half-assed, my mind could barely focus, and all I wanted to do then was sleep, despite the fate I knew was assigned to sleeping under these circumstances.
"Tired yet, boy?" The Noah spoke ironically; that is, he teased.
"You should, try banging, your mother, some time. It is, far more, exhausting, than this." All words escaped panting lips, and I didn't even think half of them were eligible.
Still, his eye twitched in agitation, and he sighed. "Boy, you've come up with nothing more than 'your mother' retorts this entire fight. At least try and be creative."
A flaming tendril caught his leg, and his eyes widened in a quizzical fashion. "Next time, try spending, less time, taunting, and more time, on your, guard." I wheezed.
With a swift strike he broke free, and landed a couple yards further down the street. Destroying a pack of butterflies with an obliterating strike from my blade, I smirked. Bingo. He landed right where I wanted him to.
The Noah had no time to truly react before the block he was in was levelled, courtesy of my flame C4, and smoke clouded all. "Ha. You can, insult big, but you can't, take a blow, for shit, can you?" I breathed out, trying to calm down and regain at least some of my breath before he got up. I wasn't stupid; Noah don't go down that easily.
"You really shouldn't have done that, boy." Spoke a voice through the smoke. Three guesses as to who it is.
Out of the smoke came a battle damaged, barely, Noah, eyes and body primed to destroy me. "You really shouldn't have done that."
Making a flame barrier didn't do anything to stop the Noah; he disappeared underneath it and reappeared on the other side, plans for murder unchanged. All objects thrown were either avoided or deflected with some form of star shaped Dark Matter shield, thingy, (Not that good with descriptors) therefore making my attacks absolutely useless.
He was nearing, I was moving, and eventually I touched something I really wished that I didn't.
A wall. I had hit a dead end. Soon, I'll be that adjective, the way things are going, I thought grimly. Beg? Nah. I don't hate myself enough for that. Go out fighting? Fuck it, worth a shot.
"Hey, Noah! Wanna hear how I got this Innocence?" I was doing my best heath Ledger impression. Please for the love of god let him be so impressed by my acting skills that he lets me go, I silently pleaded.
Apparently, Noah Badger don't give no shit, as he was impassively evil all the time.
Well, that was kind pointle-
The last thing I felt before consciousness failed me was the sense of being stabbed through my back, and me falling to my apparent doom on the ground, before the Noah.
My last thoughts as I fell became simple.
Well, that escalated quickly.
Author's note: Cliffhanger, I know. But if published work can do it then so can I! MWUAHAHAHAHA! That and there's also a foreshadowing thing at the end. Thingy. Majig.
After all, the Millennium Earl has gotta revive SOMEDAY now...
Adam: I still haven't forgiven you for insulting me. So get on your knee's immediately and start begging for your life before I castrate you with a petrol can. While on fire.
Me: How is that even physically possible?
Adam: *Grinning like a mad-man* Wanna find out? *Activates Innocence*
Me: Good thing I got life insurance...
Anyway, review, positive or negative, I get encouragement to write these when I get reviews.