My second Weiss Kreuz fanfic ever and I still suck. Oh well :) practice
makes perfect I guess! I wrote this in a rush because I had nothing to to
do. And I know the title sucks, but I couldn't think of anything else ^_^;
Rated PG because of the violence and gore.
***
The room was dark. Shadows crept over shadows. The sun hung hidden, low and ashamed. Silence whispered in the corners and the creak of the floorboards slammed through his mind. Ken was tired. His breathing was heavy, and his cheeks were dotted with red. He could feel the heat of the throbbing blood beneath his skin, still pumping from the fight. But he knew why he was here.
There she lay. She was not beautiful. Her blonde hair was dirty and thick, her nose large. But her still face was full of pride. Her blank eyes were stern. They stared, unblinking and unfocused, up at the ceiling. Empty. Her complexion was pale. There was not even a trace of shock on her features. And red blood swarmed her chest, still and cold.
He knelt, almost cautiously beside her. His brown hair tumbled across his face, damp with sweat. And blood. He could feel sweat dribbling down his fingers inside his bugnuks, and tore off the gloves, which seemed to make him itch. All the while, his eyes never left her face. Very cautiously, he reached out, to touch it.
I"He's in there, somewhere" Aya motioned towards the door of the private bar. "We've finally tracked him down." His voice held no trace of excitement.
Yohji cocked his head, and listened to the sounds of drinking, laughter and music from inside. "There are innocents in there" He commented dryly, lighting a cigarette, and putting it to his lips.
Omi nodded. "We'll have to separate them from our target. Me and Yohji'll do that. Aya and Ken can get the target. Agreed?"
"Of course!" Said Ken, his blood racing, the adrenaline building up.
Without another word, Aya grabbed the doorknob and threw the door open/I
Her skin was soft. Almost like a baby's. But it was chillingly cold. Ken swallowed, almost painfully. He wondered, if he should weep. But his eyes would not form tears. He wondered, if he should tremble. But he was still, calm. He trailed his hand down from her face, and across her chest, down onto her stomach. He traced her blood on her body. She was wearing a leopard-patterned jacket and a leather skirt. The jacket was too tight and didn't suit her. It looked especially awkward now she was in her cold and still position.
Once more, his hand went back up to her chest. He pressed his hand against the blood there, feeling the skin. He found the puncture, exactly on the left side of her chest. Beads of sweat dropped from his hand, dribbling onto her. He pressed his fingers against the wound. He pressed them further and further.
IIf she was not so cold/I, he thought bitterly, IIf she was not so cold, she would be screaming, like other people. Other people whom I kill/I
IKen was in the thrill of the moment. The target had three, quite large bodyguards, who were charging at Ken and Aya from all angles. Yohji was shoving people out through the back door, as Omi tried to look for an opening to fire the crossbow.
Ken was covered in sweat, and he was right in the moment. He slashed, forward, and to the right with his "tiger claws", always alert, always on target. His eyes were sharp as he watched his opponents. He saw Aya draw a sword through one of the bodyguards, and in that one moment, saw the bodyguard he was fighting falter slightly. Ken sprang from the floor, his bugnuks ripping upwards through the man's flesh. There was a loud thud, as the body fell to the floor. And then another, as Omi killed the final bodyguard with his crossbow.
The target was looking absolutely petrified as Aya, Omi and Yohji rounded in on him. Ken was alert for other bodyguards or such, the blood roaring and screaming in his veins. He was like an animal. A predator.
He felt something tap him on the shoulder. Hard./I
Ken closed his eyes. He shoved the body viciously away from him and placed a hand on his warm head. He didn't want to think about it. He couldn't think about it. It made his thoughts crash into one another, causing a sharp explosion in his conscience.
But the thought nagged at him. It poked and prodded. It ripped through the barriers in his mind. The body, lying before him seemed to taunt him, and he wondered if he might pass out.
IKen spun around, still in the heat of the moment. He shot out his fist, and it sliced through flesh, through veins. Hot, scarlet blood flew at him, hitting him in the face, and he heard a small gasp. The figure fell to the ground.
It was not a bodyguard. It was not the target. It was a woman. A woman with a proud face. A woman with stern eyes. A corpse lying in a pool of blood.
Time slowed. Everything seemed to stop. Even though Ken's blood continued to fly furiously around his body, he suddenly became icy cold. A pain gripped his heart, but at the same time, he felt numb. Viciously, a hand grabbed his arm, and pulled him back into reality/I
Why had she tapped him? Why hadn't she left the building with the others? So many unanswered questions hung in the air, and Ken felt slightly dizzy. Everything after he had heard her body hit the ground was a blur in his memory, filled with light and flashing images. He knew that they had ran. But Ken had turned back. And headed here. To this cold, death-filled place.
He touched the body once more, drawing his hand over her eyes, closing them. Her skin cold.
He withdrew sharply and vomited.
And then he left.
The room lay empty and caped in shadows. Quiet after the events that had occurred so recently. The bodies were left, with the stenches of blood and vomit to occupy them. And the silence once again began to whisper.
***
The room was dark. Shadows crept over shadows. The sun hung hidden, low and ashamed. Silence whispered in the corners and the creak of the floorboards slammed through his mind. Ken was tired. His breathing was heavy, and his cheeks were dotted with red. He could feel the heat of the throbbing blood beneath his skin, still pumping from the fight. But he knew why he was here.
There she lay. She was not beautiful. Her blonde hair was dirty and thick, her nose large. But her still face was full of pride. Her blank eyes were stern. They stared, unblinking and unfocused, up at the ceiling. Empty. Her complexion was pale. There was not even a trace of shock on her features. And red blood swarmed her chest, still and cold.
He knelt, almost cautiously beside her. His brown hair tumbled across his face, damp with sweat. And blood. He could feel sweat dribbling down his fingers inside his bugnuks, and tore off the gloves, which seemed to make him itch. All the while, his eyes never left her face. Very cautiously, he reached out, to touch it.
I"He's in there, somewhere" Aya motioned towards the door of the private bar. "We've finally tracked him down." His voice held no trace of excitement.
Yohji cocked his head, and listened to the sounds of drinking, laughter and music from inside. "There are innocents in there" He commented dryly, lighting a cigarette, and putting it to his lips.
Omi nodded. "We'll have to separate them from our target. Me and Yohji'll do that. Aya and Ken can get the target. Agreed?"
"Of course!" Said Ken, his blood racing, the adrenaline building up.
Without another word, Aya grabbed the doorknob and threw the door open/I
Her skin was soft. Almost like a baby's. But it was chillingly cold. Ken swallowed, almost painfully. He wondered, if he should weep. But his eyes would not form tears. He wondered, if he should tremble. But he was still, calm. He trailed his hand down from her face, and across her chest, down onto her stomach. He traced her blood on her body. She was wearing a leopard-patterned jacket and a leather skirt. The jacket was too tight and didn't suit her. It looked especially awkward now she was in her cold and still position.
Once more, his hand went back up to her chest. He pressed his hand against the blood there, feeling the skin. He found the puncture, exactly on the left side of her chest. Beads of sweat dropped from his hand, dribbling onto her. He pressed his fingers against the wound. He pressed them further and further.
IIf she was not so cold/I, he thought bitterly, IIf she was not so cold, she would be screaming, like other people. Other people whom I kill/I
IKen was in the thrill of the moment. The target had three, quite large bodyguards, who were charging at Ken and Aya from all angles. Yohji was shoving people out through the back door, as Omi tried to look for an opening to fire the crossbow.
Ken was covered in sweat, and he was right in the moment. He slashed, forward, and to the right with his "tiger claws", always alert, always on target. His eyes were sharp as he watched his opponents. He saw Aya draw a sword through one of the bodyguards, and in that one moment, saw the bodyguard he was fighting falter slightly. Ken sprang from the floor, his bugnuks ripping upwards through the man's flesh. There was a loud thud, as the body fell to the floor. And then another, as Omi killed the final bodyguard with his crossbow.
The target was looking absolutely petrified as Aya, Omi and Yohji rounded in on him. Ken was alert for other bodyguards or such, the blood roaring and screaming in his veins. He was like an animal. A predator.
He felt something tap him on the shoulder. Hard./I
Ken closed his eyes. He shoved the body viciously away from him and placed a hand on his warm head. He didn't want to think about it. He couldn't think about it. It made his thoughts crash into one another, causing a sharp explosion in his conscience.
But the thought nagged at him. It poked and prodded. It ripped through the barriers in his mind. The body, lying before him seemed to taunt him, and he wondered if he might pass out.
IKen spun around, still in the heat of the moment. He shot out his fist, and it sliced through flesh, through veins. Hot, scarlet blood flew at him, hitting him in the face, and he heard a small gasp. The figure fell to the ground.
It was not a bodyguard. It was not the target. It was a woman. A woman with a proud face. A woman with stern eyes. A corpse lying in a pool of blood.
Time slowed. Everything seemed to stop. Even though Ken's blood continued to fly furiously around his body, he suddenly became icy cold. A pain gripped his heart, but at the same time, he felt numb. Viciously, a hand grabbed his arm, and pulled him back into reality/I
Why had she tapped him? Why hadn't she left the building with the others? So many unanswered questions hung in the air, and Ken felt slightly dizzy. Everything after he had heard her body hit the ground was a blur in his memory, filled with light and flashing images. He knew that they had ran. But Ken had turned back. And headed here. To this cold, death-filled place.
He touched the body once more, drawing his hand over her eyes, closing them. Her skin cold.
He withdrew sharply and vomited.
And then he left.
The room lay empty and caped in shadows. Quiet after the events that had occurred so recently. The bodies were left, with the stenches of blood and vomit to occupy them. And the silence once again began to whisper.