'Sup, Homedawgs? Foshizzle my rizzle yo...drizzle? Kay no, I fail. Anyways, hullo thar :D I am your worst nightmare, here to consume your happiness and regertitate it as nothing but pain and sorrow and loss! Buahahaha and fufufu and all that.

Or not. I wouldn't do that, promise. But here. This is just gonna end up being a short, conspiracy-type story, likely to be about ten-ish chapters. 'M trying my hand at writing Train in third person, so your opinions on how well I'm doing/not doing are greatly appreciated. If ya like what you see, tell me. I'm terrible with updating, no lie, but you're more likely to get another chatper if you review than if you don't. SO ANYWAY. Read, be confused, enjoy!

Toodles;

Your friendly neighborhood Shmeeko.

Sydney, Australia. Fifteen Years Ago.

"Shoot her."

"W-...What?"

"Shoot her. One shot is all it will take."

"W...What? W-why do I h-have to sh-sh...shoot her?"

"Shoot her and free us both. She is wicked. She doesn't deserve to live."

"B-but...B-b-but...She's our-"

Click. Click.

"Shoot her, or I'll shoot you."

'W-wait! You can't ask me to do this!"

"I can, and I am. Shoot her. Or else."

Click.

"No...I can't! I won't...You can't make me!"

"Shoot her."

"No, No, No!"

"Shoot her. One shot and the suffering will be over. One shot is all it'll take. One shot."

"NO!"

BAM.

"...Very good."

BAM.

OooooOooooOooooOooooOooooOooooO

Present Day.

She silently let out a sigh of concentration, praying that the steady breeze across his face would not arouse him from his slumber. She drew in air, her breath hitching in her throat as he stirred. She pulled back slightly, to avoid the hand that swept automatically across his face at the awkward feeling. She suppressed a giggle and leaned forward again, bringing her tool back up to his eyelids. Steadily, she pulled the tip of her 'weapon' down the right side of his face, completing the somewhat abstract design that had become his face. She leant back once more to admire her work. The black lines were smudged here and there, from when her hand had brushed against the wet ink, or he'd unconsciously wiped his face. For once, she was grateful that the young man was such a heavy sleeper.

"Eve!" The loud voice rang through the silence, causing her canvas to jerk upwards. Their foreheads connected solidly, sending the younger girl sprawling in the grass and forcing the man onto his back once more, his hands flying to his forehead as he cried out in pain and surprise. She rubbed her own, sitting up as her the black marker in her other hand reverted back into her index finger.

"What were you doing?" Train said, lifting his head and pulling his palms from his forehead as he fixed his golden stare on the femme. She smiled mischievously in response and rose to her feet, flicking her own line of sight up to the top of the hill where they both sat. The man standing there, attaché case in one hand, gave her a questioning stare. Train turned in order to stare questioningly up at the suited man. Sven's reaction made the girl chuckle to herself. His hand flew to his mouth, suppressing laughter as a wide grin spread behind the palm of his hand. "What?" At the cat's demand, Sven finally cracked, his hands flying to grip his stomach as his briefcase hit the pavement beside him.

"Your face-" He said between laughs as he fought for breath. The approving glance the girl was given made her grin with mischievous pride. "- Look in a mirror, Train!" Alarmed, the man in question scrambled to his feet, running up the hill to the car that was parked at the top. He disappeared out of the girl's view, leaving her to daintily cover her mouth with a hand to politely smother her giggles.

"...EVE!" The young blonde directed her gaze up to the sweeper, rose-coloured eyes studying the artwork she'd left for him on his face. Black scribbles were drawn all over his face, lines stretching down from his eyes and swirling along his cheeks. A finger poked at a semi-wet marking on his face, before he rubbed his palm against his cheek and drew his hand away, grimacing at the black smudges that had come off the original markings. His hand clenched into a fist and fell to his side as he huffed, glaring down at the girl who was smiling ever-so-innocently back at him.

"What did you call me for, Sven?" She said, completely ignoring that fact that the former Chronos Assassin was continuously rubbing his face and throwing nasty glares in her direction. She climbed up to the top of the hill to stand between the two men, her back to Train as she cocked a head to one side.

"I was just wondering where you'd gotten off to." He explained nonchalantly, waving a hand in a dismissive manner. "You weren't in the car like you said you'd be" He chuckled again as he recalled where the girl had been and what she had been doing. He too was oblivious to the glares now being thrown at him for not saying something in disapproval to what she'd done. Eve shrugged her shoulders, small smile gracing her lips as she turned her head ever so slightly to glance triumphantly back at the pouting man behind her.

"Phhhbbbttt." Train stuck his tongue out at her as he continued to rub at his face, hoping to make the markings wipe off somehow. Of course, as she'd anticipated, it wasn't that easy.

"I came to find you 'cause it's time to go." She turned her attention back to the man addressing her.

"The target?" She assumed automatically, head tilting to one side in curiosity.

"Yeah, his name's Garret Kri." Sven explained as he lead the way back to the car, motioning for Eve to enter first as Train moved around to the passenger side of the vehicle, yanking the door open and slamming it shut behind him. He instantly folded his arms behind his head and leant back, trying to ignore the fact that his face had become a canvas for a conspiring vandal.

"And?" He crowed impatiently, opening a golden eye in order to glance lazily in the driver's direction. "What's the bounty?"

"800, 000 yen." Sven ignored the excited chirp the 'art display' piped up with. "He's a weapons dealer whose business stretches content-wide. Problem is, he doesn't just deal the weapons, he's a master in using them too" The car sputtered to life, rolling forward slowly at first before picking up speed and moving at a steady pace along the road. Train leant back further and put his feet up on the dashboard, completely ignoring the triumphant glances being thrown at him by the blonde haired child in the back. She seemed to be trying to catch his eye, possibly rub in the fact that she'd managed to catch him off guard and prove it through practicing her art skills on his face. After several moments of inconspicuously trying to catch his eye through hair tosses or conveniently timed 'hmphs', she turned her attention to the world flashing by out the window.

"Where is he?" She asked, trying not to sound slightly defeated at this one, minor loss of patience.

"His dealership headquarters is located in a small town called Puria a few miles out from here. Apparently, his warehouse is on the outskirts of town, at the top of a rather large hill." Sven lifted one hand off the wheel in order to pull a cigarette from his pocket and stick it in his mouth. He rolled down the window before lighting the end and drawing in a breath. "It gives him a good view of the town, lets him see who's sneaking up on him." He said as he rested his elbow on the window ledge, holding his cigarette between his index and middle finger as he drove.

"How long will it be 'till we get there?" It was Train who spoke this time, both eyes half-open and fixed on the sky through the windshield. Sven snorted, knowing his partner was only asking him in order to judge if he'd be able to catch a decent nap in the time they took to get there.

"Not long. Maybe half an hour, tops." He didn't get a reply, for the man in the passenger seat had already begun to doze off, head tipping to one side as his mouth hung open. Sven flicked his gaze up to the rearview mirror, unable to miss the mischievous smile that had taken over the youngest sweeper's face.

OooooOooooOooooOooooOooooOooooO

She lifted her head slowly, fixing her pale-coloured gaze on the child that had managed to pull open the large metal door that had blocked the light from the room. She sat on the metal floor, back against the thin metal wall. One leg stretched out in front of her, while the other remained slightly bent. Both arms rested limply at her sides, her head had been hanging low, at lack of something to focus on until bright sunlight filtered into the previously pitch black and soundless room.

"Uhhh...Andrew has orders...for you." The child seemed somewhat intimidated by the young woman, though she was doing nothing more than sitting, keeping her eerily pale gaze fixed on the boy as he pressed his weight against the heavy door. She rolled her head back in an inquisitive manner, saying nothing in reply. "The target is inbound to the marked location..." The boy said slowly, speaking in terminology far beyond what was expected of his age. "You are to meet and eliminate him, no witnesses."

"Has he...betrayed us...?" Her voice was quiet, lacking in any intonation as she leant forward, slowly moving her legs around behind her.

"That's what's been reported, yeah." The boy seemed to be a little more confident around her, even as she pushed herself onto one knee, then both feet. She walked unsteadily over to the door, before jumping off the raised platform she'd been located in and into the sunlight, shoes meeting with dusty ground.

"How long do I have?" She asked, intonation very much the same as it had been the first time she'd spoken. The boy rolled his gaze upwards, mouth hanging open in a manner that implied he was thinking. He flicked his gaze down to the watch on his wrist, before adjusting the strap that held the giant disc to his back as he spoke.

"About one hour. That's when I get to go in and do clean up. But knowing you, there won't be much to clean up." He said, his companion was silent as the boy continued to pull at the strap across his chest. The size of the disc didn't bother him; he was used to it. It was the awkward situation that caused him to want to do something with his hands. He almost didn't hear her reply as she turned and began to walk along the dirt road that lead to a small town only a few hundred yards away.

"...Indeed...There won't be much..."

OooooOooooOooooOooooOooooOooooO

"They're coming!" He frantically moved across the open space, the crowd of men parting to let him through. A shorter, smaller man hurried behind him looking quite alarmed. He wasn't exactly sure why Mr.Kri had suddenly become so alarmed. He'd gotten a phone call no more then ten minutes ago, it had sounded like another mafia boss wanting to do business. But now, after the line was dead, the weapons dealer was frantic. He was gasping for breath, as if he'd run a mile as fast as he could. He'd done no such thing, so needless to say nearly everyone around him was puzzled as to what had alarmed him so.

"Who? What? What's going on?" Richards, the short and thin assistant, was the one to voice the question on everyone's mind. There were about twenty or so men gathered in a circle around the dealer, who was hunched over his desk with his head in his arms. The safe house they'd set up wasn't much. It was basically a bunch of crates and metal shelves pushed around and randomly placed along the sides of the room, with a desk near the very back in the center. Mr.Kri's desk.

"They're coming...They figured out that I recorded the information on some of their weapons...I was only supposed to repair them, but they were just so...unique! Such technology!" Richards frowned. He wasn't exactly sure what the man was raving about. He was a genius when it came to weaponry. Crafting, repairing and handling them; he was certain there was no one so well-balanced and skilled in all three fields as he was. So he couldn't exactly understand why the man was so scared. What could possibly throw a weapons dealer, someone who faced danger, conspiracy and a death threat every day, be thrown into such a terror by a simple phone call?

"Who, sweepers?" A stupid question. There was no way Kri would do weapon repairs for sweepers. It was even less likely that he'd even deal weapons with them. But Richards had to start somewhere. Mr.Kri was giving him no leads.

"No, not sweepers you dwarven fool!" The sudden snap of the formerly frantic man was somewhat offending. Richards was not the most built of men, nor was he the tallest. But he was hardly a dwarf. He decided not to rebuke, however, as his boss was beginning to rapidly go through the papers scattered on his desk.

"Then what?" Richards was losing patience. If the dealer wouldn't tell the gathered men what it was driving him into such a state of fear, they wouldn't bother helping when it came around to facing it. Some men in the outer circle leaned in, curious to hear an answer. The man's voice had gotten very quiet. The colour drained from his face as he turned his head to look at the short assistant from over his shoulder.

"The Kariirebito" He hissed, before ripping open a drawer and pulling out a shotgun. The frightened look never left his eyes. "I want every single man's gun trained on the front door. If it so much as opens a hairline of a crack, open fire. Don't let anything get through there alive." He ordered, regaining the fierce composure that had made him the leader of so many talented soldiers. But Richards couldn't understand.

"But sir-" He was cut off, having to reach up to catch the sub machine gun that had been thrown in his direction. The men around them began to take up a semi-circle position around the door, leaving enough room for an explosion to go off without doing any harm to any of their numbers. "How do you know they won't come through the back door, or down through the skylights?"

"They don't need to, Richards. They think they can handle anything. Shoot to kill. Don't be a coward now. If you're a coward, we all die." The man ducked behind his desk, pulling it towards him. Richards turned towards the front door. It seemed strange how the man was so confident they would come through the front door, whoever 'they' were. That was another thing puzzling him, the name he'd given 'them'. The people who were coming after him...The Kariirebito? He didn't understand. Kariirebito...Didn't that mean...It couldn't be...The thing that was after Mr. Kri...was a Reaper?