Theme: Oldies
Prompt: Horror and Crime
Warnings: Foul language, vague plot, and a whole lot of misunderstandings with a dash of OOC-ness.
Note: This is for the AoGA House Cup 2013 Last Stand. (See profile for more details.) Please rate accordingly (see the footnote).
In the midst of the dead night, a horse's clip-clop resounded through the cobble-stoned streets, the wheels of a black carriage halted in front of a seemingly abandoned building, wood creaking as the door swung open. A man in his late twenties gingerly stepped out and gave his foggy surroundings a glance, hawk-like eyes tracking any person lurking.
No one.
Hastily trudging up the stone steps, he drew his coat tighter around himself and walked in, never bothering to ring the doorbell, for he knew that there was nobody else in here than the one he was searching for.
At least, so he was told in the letter.
Earlier that day, he had seen a piece of rolled parchment (parchment? Really? he thought in disbelief as he unwrapped it) waiting for him in his office, inked words in intricate cursive telling him to go to 221A Watson Street at precisely 21 hours, alone, or else something grave would happen. He would have ignored it, thinking it was a foolish joke of one of the newcomers, but...
If it wasn't for the stamp at the bottom of the letter, then maybe he really would.
Paranoia.
The apartment was empty, he confirmed it as soon as he passed through the doorway, yet, as his long strides strike the creaky floorboards with a dull 'thump-thump', he couldn't shake the eerie feeling that someone, /something/ was watching behind the inky shadows stretching across torn tapestries and walls.
With each step, his determination wavered and beads of sweat trickled down his forehead.
It was dark, for moonlight was the only thing lighting up the place through the windows, making the man bite his lip as he maneuvered his way to the staircase, thinking if it really was worth it.
If it wasn't for the stamp...
He was so preoccupied with his thoughts that he jumped, cursing softly as he climbed the steps with renewed vigor, when a lone rat scuttled in front of him, .
The sooner he left this dank place, the better.
Reaching the last step, he gave a shuddering sigh and walked to the last door down the dark hallway. 221A.
He wanted to run.
Cowardice.
The door was the clear sign of the point of no return.
It was dangerous, he told himself, to step inside and meet /him/.
Him, who was the world's mastermind of the century, the most wanted criminal, the genius of evil.
/Black Phantom./
Then again, it probably would be also dangerous if he didn't comply.
Besides, would it be any better if he would tuck his tail and run?
What the bloody hell does he want from a commoner, anyway?
A hint of curiosity.
He pursed his pale lips and raised an elegant gloved hand to the rotting wood.
"Come in," a smooth voice called, and the door creaked open to reveal a dimly lit room, making the other slightly wince at the sudden brightness. The room's occupant laughed. "I apologize for the meeting place. Anonymity is my motto for these past years."
"And so I have heard, thief." The visitor replied, shedding off his coat and draping it on the only available seat. "Or is it the Black Phantom?"
Where did his arrogance come from?
"Ah, how I despise those titles that those foul women in market make up." The other wrinkled his nose. "I am neither. Please, call me Yukiteru."
"I assume you are hiding behind another name?"
A smirk curled the lips of the black-haired man behind the desk, chin propped by his clasped hands. "I would leave the assumptions to yourself." He waved a hand. "If we are to converse, please, have a seat."
The other glared, sitting down and crossing his legs. "What do you want? Money? Riches?" He opened his palms. "I have none. I am also neither a noble or a descendant of one-"
"-A mere middle class citizen." The mysterious man called 'Yukiteru' finished, eyes lit up in amusement. "Not to worry, I'd rather have...information."
"...Information?"
"It would be explained after we have a drink." Yukiteru swiftly stood up and gestured at a nearby tray. "Kettle just boiled. Coffee?"
Harada sighed again, peeling off his white gloves. "Black, two sugars please. And I didn't come here for a friendly chat. You should know that very well."
"A man of reason, unlike any other of my clients." His smirk grew bigger as he moved. "I find it...refreshing." He daintily lifted the pot and poured the black liquid in one of the teacups, picking out two sugar cubes and dropping them carefully. "Certainly, Mr. Harada. We will make it quick."
"The fact that you know my name won't be questioned anymore." Harada retorted crossly. "Now tell me, what is it that you want?"
"Of course, of course Mr. Harada. To business." He offered the cup with a smile. "To start it off, are you aware of my humble collection?"
"I'd hardly dare to call it humble." Harada murmured, accepting the drink and staring at it before cautiously taking a sip. The other chuckled and waved a hand dismissively. He clinked the cup down on the plate, frowning. "What of it?"
"Do you find anything...interesting?"
Caught off-guard with the question, the brunette paused in raising his cup, lips near the rim.
This is the Black Phantom?
He warily thought, lowering down his drink a little. Or... he frowned again, a little pissed. He's playing with me, isn't he?
The bastard.
But...
Will there be harm done if he told the truth?
Hesitation.
"I suppose," he finally muttered, "that some of them are tempting."
The thief laughed, a cheerful one that bounced off the tattered wallpapers like he was expecting the answer. "Well, I do pick out the best!" He hummed a little before adding, "Recently, there has been...a new one."
A new one?
"There is nothing new in the papers."
"Ah, but they are quite slow." Yukiteru replied, folding his hands under his chin. "And I think this item would interest you."
...Me?
Everything was quiet for a moment, the only sounds the careful sips of Harada and the faraway carriages in the next two streets.
Why would it interest me?
"Would you like to inquire about my latest case?"
The visitor narrowed his eyes, draining the last of his coffee and setting down the china on the desk. /What on earth is that kind of question?/
Just entertain him.
He sighed. "Enlighten me."
The black-haired man smiled good-naturedly. "But of course."
He closed his eyes, exhaling. "The color of a fading rose." He started to whisper, almost fondly. He opened his eyes and gazed out the lone window, expression faraway and distant, as if remembering a past lover. "As pale as an immobile body in a morgue."
"A delicate figure. Fragile, small. But beautiful."
Such beautiful words. The listener thought, distracted, entranced, amazed at the words gracefully falling from the lips of a world renowned thief. To think he is a criminal rather than a poet. Such a shame.
"And the name..." Yukiteru looked at his guest in the corner of his eyes, mocking laughter shining in them. Harada's eyes widened and he shot out of his seat.
Fear and anger.
"Bloody hell!" he shouted. "What did you do?" His nails dug into his kin as he clenched his fists, making crescent moon shapes on his palm to prevent himself from lunging across the table and strangling the other. "What did you fucking do?!"
"I didn't do anything, Mr. Harada." The man said calmly, opening a drawer and taking out an old fashioned brass key. He placed it delicately in the middle of the table and stared squarely at the furious man. "Not in my nature to damage goods. Please, take your seat, or else..." He cocked his head to the side and slightly pushed himself and the chair to the side, revealing a rather large door.
"The rose's petals shall be plucked without mercy."
Helplessness.
Harada sank down.
"What do you want?" He whispered, opting to clutch the velvet upholster of his seat. He paused, then continued, in a much lower tone. "What information? My ancestors? Heirlooms?"
"You said so yourself, thief. I am but a mere middle class citizen." He spat. "I have neither an earl or a count as a father, nor do I have possessions which would benefit you."
Violet eyes twinkled in mirth. "You greatly amuse me, Mr. Harada. I suppose it has something to do with your Japanese origin. But no," the man cut the other off and tapped his chin thoughtfully, "your family line does not interest me."
Harada wasn't sure if he could relax at that, but before he could contemplate, Yukiteru continued. "However..." The other smirked again. "Your job does."
Is he truly mad?
"My job?" He sputtered in disbelief. "Why would being an old museum curator interest you?""As far as I know, Farggo Museum is quite famous, no?" The phantom rubbed his barely there stubble. "And they do recognize you as the most...trusted one."
"That doesn't make any sense." The curator shot back, knuckles whitening. If he kept this up, then he would probably tear off the cushion.
Yukiteru raised a finger. "Ah ah, let me continue." He propped his chin on his hand. "Seeing that you are...reliable, at some points, obviously important people recognize you."
The other was terrified, but he forced himself to keep on talking. "And so what? So what if they recognize me?"
"Then they consider you as a keepsake." The man traced a lining on the desk. "You've been hired many times as a private dealer. You move things, treasures, to their destinations without anyone but you and your client knowing." He looked at Harada innocently.
"N-no-" The other stuttered. "You're wrong! I'm just a curator!"
Yukiteru scoffed. "Oh, you are a bad liar, Mr. Harada. Try telling that to the Queen." He paused, then chuckled. "Honestly, you're quite famous in underground circles. What are you called..." He mulled for a bit. "...the 'Dealer of the Crown', wasn't it?"
Horror.
Impossible.
"H-h-how-"
"And to think that you're still a citizen." He remarked, seeming genuinely troubled. "With all the wealth you should have collected by now, you well could have been a king!"
"How did you find out?!" Harada screamed, swiping the cup sideways, letting it crash to the floor. "Who told you?!"
"Well, I do pride myself as a part-time investigator." The other shrugged.
"Liar! You have men snooping around!"
"Hn, busted~" He sang. "Understandable, really. I never was good at bluffing! Well, quite correct, I'm afraid. I am a bit dependent." He continued, yawning. "I get by with connections, connections." He blinked mischievously. "But you needn't to know anymore than that, do you? Well then," he stood up and brushed dirt off his pants, "here is the deal. Truth be told, it would benefit you more than me." He smiled sincerely and clapped his hands.
"You give me information, just this once, mind you, and I'll give you back the latest item with a consolation." He snapped his fingers. "Rest assured, you won't be suspected of a thing. You and your family will be protected at any cost." He shrugged in a 'that-is-all' manner. "Simple, isn't it?"
Realization.
It can't be.
/Mr. Harada, next month, there would be a new display, possibly the biggest project we ever have! Keep it hushed for the meantime, though; the opening will be grand! Could I trust you with this?/
Harada's throat went dry, and he swallowed in an attempt to talk properly. "You...you want...you're talking about-"
"Finally, you caught up!" A big grin split across the other's face, light illuminating the shadows on his face and making him look more delusional. "Quite fast too, I believe." The laugh that left his mouth ran chills down his guest's spine.
Mad.
The wanker was mad. Bonkers, nuts, out of his damn mind.
Yet, Harada knew that he played right into his hand. He was a pawn in the phantom's chessboard, pushed forward to get closer to the queen. A risky move, yet he had planned it well.
And he was so, so stupid to be played with all along.
Yukiteru offered his hand, a smirk playing on his lips. "So, do we have a deal?"
The brunette's head spun, and his chest constricted. He was angry, tired, and absolutely horrified at the same time, staring at the other's outstretched palm.
He never knew that his life would be literally in someone's hands, and a criminal to boot.
There was too much at stake.
He kept on staring, feeling his resolve slowly crumble away.
He clenched his fists once more.
I'm so sorry.
Surrender.
The smirk grew bigger as hands clasped and shook, and words filled the empty room, filling every nook and cranny with the thrill of looked down on his lap as the other stood gracefully, pushing the key towards him. He silently reached out and wrapped his nimble fingers around the cold metal.
"A pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Harada." Yukiteru bowed, a hand to his chest. "I do hope you would find your...item, satisfactory."
The brown-haired man remained in his rigid position, the caped man taking his exit, and as the door shut, he bolted from his place and rushed to the back door, fumbling with the key. He slipped it into the old lock and twisted his wrist until he heard a click.
Desperation.
The door opened to reveal another room, this time with proper lighting, and in a tidy state, unlike the whole building itself. He was in disbelief, but he ignored the initial surprise and looked around frantically.
And there, on the bed, lay his item.
Hope.
Pink hair sprawled around the young girl's face, chest rising and falling in a peaceful slumber. He rushed to her side and kneeled, placing a trembling hand on the small shoulder.
No wounds. No bruises. Nothing.
Thank God.
"Honey?"
"Wake up, Father is here. Father will take you home."
After a few more shakes, the girl stirred slowly, sitting up and a yawn escaping her lips as she rubbed sleep off her eyes. She blinked against her fist and smiled.
"Papa?"
Harada wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her hair, but not before noticing something glinting beside his daughter.
Item with consolation.
He sucked in a breath and closed his weary eyes.
black-haired man, as soon as he reached the last landing, let his act drop. Turning around, he headed for the back door of the dingy apartment and calmly climbed in the waiting carriage at the back alley, shutting the door with a soft thud. Sitting down, he leaned back and stared into cornflower eyes, face hidden beneath the shadows.
"Everything went well, I presume?"
"Yes." A smirk curled the violet-tinged lips. "It was easy enough to get it out of the idiot."
He received a smile, the other pressing his hands together under his chin. "A brilliant job as always, Persona. How long?"
A month.
"Well then," the stranger crossed his legs, smug and satisfied, "we have long to prepare. I entrust you the position to make everything right."
'Persona' tipped his head forward, a hand on his chest. "You have my word. Rest assured, Organization Z will not fail you."
"So be it." The man mused. "Let me see your loyalty to the Black Phantom, gentleman, and you will be rewarded greatly."
One month later
"Damnit." Strands of black hair fell over irritated red eyes as the man tried to untangle the tight knot he had created with his tie. "Fucking bloody piece of cloth." More strings of curses flew from his mouth as he wrestled with the material, failing to make it loosen.
"Natsume, your potty mouth." His companion chided in a teasing manner, smoothly looping his own tie into a tidy knot and patting it securely. "Lay down the swearing a bit. You've shamed the dictionary."
"Shut up, Ruka." He grunted, giving up and thinking of burning the damn tie with his lighter as he pulled a cigarette from his pocket and stuck it between his lips. "You know I hate these things. Why do I even have to go, anyway?"
Ruka chuckled and strode over, gloved hands opened in a silent question, and when he got Natsume's nod of approval, reached out and carefully started to take off the tie to knot it properly. "Even though you hate these, you should know how to dress up when it's needed. You're a grown man in his late thirties, yet here you are, fighting with a tie like a child." He smiled, fastening the loop and fixing it. "And you have to go because you're part of Scotland Yard."
"Tch. That fucking Subaru always has a stick up his ass." Natsume scoffed, taking out the silver lighter and flicking the lid off. "He could have sent Kitsu and Mochu. Those idiots could hold up on their own."
The blond patted his lapels. "Your mouth, Natsume." He scolded again. "You just say that because you want to wallow in your sorry excuse of a flat and waste away all night." He plucked the cancer stick and lighter and slipped his hand into the black-haired man's left pocket. Once he found what he was looking for, he withdrew his hand and held the pack of cigars aloft, making the other draw his brows together in annoyance. "And no smoking. We had a deal."
Natsume opened his mouth to retort 'you're not my damn mother you dolt' when a knock resounded on the door. "Mr. Hyuuga, Nogi?" A voice called. "The carriage you requested has arrived. What should I tell the coach?"
"We'll be there in a minute!" Ruka answered, then turned back to his dresser to stash the things he had confiscated as the footsteps died away.
"Something came up, didn't it?"
Confused and take aback by the sudden inquiry, he frowned at Natsume's reflection who was staring back. "Natsume, what are you talking-"
"I was serious about Kitsu and Mochu. They caught a goddamn mass murderer with their plain stupidity." The black-haired man fixed his cuff. "Watching over a display isn't as difficult as that was. So why specifically us?"
As arrogant as it may sound, they-the inseparable duo, as their co-workers and juniors call them-are only assigned cases when it's something that could plunge the office into clueless depth, which is, sadly, almost everyday.
Ruka remembered the situation. The case had been originally for Natsume and Ruka, but for some reason, the file fell on the hands of the cheerful Kitsu, letting him recognize the man as the shady person in the pub whenever he's out drinking. Coincidentally, when he had made the discovery Mochu was the one who had seen him and together, they recklessly charged the criminal.
It was a messy affair, but nevertheless, it was successful and they caught their man.
He jarred himself back to reality. No, can't tell him. Nope nope nope. But under the unrelenting crimson gaze, Ruka squirmed and fiddled with the ends of his waistcoat, opting to stare at a smudge in the glass.
"Ruka."
"It was a tip, okay?" He finally blurted out, raising his vision back to Natsume's again. "A tip that.." He trailed off, then sighed, pinning a silver brooch on his tie. "...that the Black Phantom might be showing up and...you know."
Silence fell.
"What, that's it?"
The blond made a face. "I knew you would say that."
"Yet I still don't see why I have to go." Natsume interjected. "It's just a tip, you idiot; we might as well be wasting our time."
"Come on, Natsume, it's just one night."
"One night of pure boredom and filthy annoying women who can't keep their hands to themselves and take a bloody hint." He grumbled, picking up his coat and putting it on. "Honestly, it's just a bloody opening of some damned gem, and half of the city will go. Delirious."
"And that's another reason why we'll go too." Blue eyes lit up in mirth as he watched the dressed man finally finish suiting up, donning on an elegant top hat similar to the one he was wearing. "We can't have anyone going all bonkers now, can we?"
The smoker only 'hn'-ed as he opened the door and looked over his shoulder. "Hurry the hell up, Ruka. You take longer than a prissy woman."
Ruka swiveled around, chuckling under his breath. "Oh, shut up, you wanker." He passed by his friend who was holding the door open. "Tell you what, be a good man and behave for the rest of the night, and I'll treat you booze for a week. Deal?"
"One condition." Natsume interjected, clicking the lights off and closing the door with a click. "Jack Daniel's."
"You'll be shedding off a month's pay out of my pocket." The other mused, popping in the buttons on his left glove as they trudge down the staircase while shaking his head. "Fine, then. Jack Daniel's, but only if you do well tonight."
"I'll take up your word on that."
"Smug bastard."
"You put up with me anyway."
"Touche."
A brown folder slid over a desk, the papers making a rumpling sound in it.
"No. 1109, I trust you with this assignment." A lean man spoke, leaning back into his velvet chair and harboring a harsh expression at the man across him. "We've wasted a whole month and a shitload of plans for this, so you better not fuck it up."
Persona will kick our asses went unsaid, but the thought hung in the air.
The other waved a hand, swiping the folder and flipping it open, scanning through the files. "Geez, Mochu, your mouth." He ran a finger down the written data, analyzing the person's picture. "And no need to be so cold with the 'No. 1109' thing. I do have a name, you know."
"Shut your mouth, you disrespectful vermin." The man named 'Mochu' spat, glaring some more. "You have no right to dictate what I should or not say, and my name is Mochiage."
"Hoo, using big words now, eh? And I'm older than you, so stop with the disrespectful thing. Christ, are all people in their late twenties like this?"
"I'm higher in position, Akira, and no, because unfortunately for me, I had to take care of a child."
"Eh? Who's the mother?"
"I was talking about you, you bloody asshole!"
Akira raised his hands in surrender, making a flapping motion with them. "Alright, alright! Calm down!" He tossed the files which landed on the table neatly. "It's almost time, sir," Mochu glowered at him at his emphasis, "so have you informed the others?"
"Yes." The higher up exhaled, trying to vent out his anger. "They are waiting at the museum now. You're dismissed."
Akira nodded, then started to leave.
"Oh, and use this."
He had barely time to turn around before catching some lightweight object, and he stared at it before chuckling under his breath. "It's fitting." He innocently said, slipping it around his head. "You're starting to share my love for theatrics and drama, Mochu!"
The other said nothing, watching Akira as he swiveled with his long black coat and walked away, raising his arms in glee.
"It's showtime!"
"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the grand opening of the newest exhibit in Farggo Museum!"
Applause boomed throughout the great hall, the clinking of wine glass and small chatter mixing in as the emcee faced the audience, arms spread out with a broad grin on his face. "A pleasant evening to all!" He continued after the noise had ceased, standing proudly on the small platform. "It is an absolute pleasure to have all of you witness this spectacular event!"
As the emcee babbled on, hooking everyone's interests, the duo stood a bit farther away, near the pillars for an easier lookout, eyes roaming the crowd for any suspicious being.
At least, Ruka's eyes were.
Natsume, tapping his foot in impatience, paused and checked the watch he was forced to wear and saw that only half an hour has passed. "Ruka." He irately hissed, taking another swig of the blood red wine and making a face when he noticed that it was the last drop. It was his third one, damnit. "This is taking too long."
"Hush." Ruka berated, lips settled on the glass he was holding and vision quickly sweeping around. His companion rolled his eyes. Ever the efficient and loyal worker. "It will be over soon. Just think about our deal and you can pull through."
The black-haired man makes a disapproving noise in the back of his throat but complies nonetheless, because hey, who could turn down free drinks for a week? "I'll just go to the banquet." He muttered, raising his empty flute. "I need a refill."
The blond finally looked at him, an eyebrow raised. "Again?" He sighed, pressing two fingers against his temple. Was he taking care of some overgrown child? "Fine, fine. Make it quick though, and be as inconspicuous as possible. We can't risk being a distraction here."
"Yeah, yeah." Natsume replied, knowing full well of what the other meant. He turned his back on him and waved a hand dismissively. "Give me fifteen."
"No later. Oh, and Natsume," Ruka added before the other could get too far, "don't get drunk. We're still on a job here."
Natsume nodded before walking away and disappearing through the mingling bodies.
Ruka sighed again before leaning against the marble column and taking position. Bratty wanker.
A man with a black lacquered mask gracefully wove in and out of the crowds, blue eyes searching among the bodies for his person.
Ah, there he is.
Fixing his coat, he relaxed and strode over in the most casual manner possible, picking up a flute from a passing waiter's tray along the way, taking a sip as he fell into step with the man.
"Enjoying the evening?"
The man he approached spared him a questioning glance. "I beg your pardon?"
"I asked if you are enjoying the evening so far, sir." He smirked, offering a hand. "Yukiteru Blackwell, a pleasure to meet you."
The other looked around, bewildered, before turning his attention back and hesitating for a moment before shaking the hand. "I say the same. Excuse me for asking, but..." He frowned a little. "...I didn't know there was another Japanese in the Blackwell family."
The masked man laughed, smooth and tinkling. "I'm afraid my dear cousin and I don't quite...get along in good terms." He smiled, although not pleasantly. "I'm not surprised that she hasn't spoken of me around here." He pursed his lips and took a drink. "Well, maybe a bit."
"Lady Mikan hasn't mentioned anything about either of her parents having siblings as well." The other muttered, fiddling with a button of his coat.
"Hasn't she?" Yukiteru hummed, and they settled into a comfortable chat afterwards, at the same time watching the crowd move in glitter.
After a while, the masked man straightened up and turned to his companion who was watching him, raising his empty glass. "Well, I do have to fill up again, and I guess my comrade is looking for me now. It was nice meeting you."
The other smiled embarrassedly, but he started. "Oh, excuse my forgetfulness, my name is-"
Yukiteru put a finger to his lips, smirking. "No need to tell me, pretty boy." He reveled in the way he stunned the other, then he produced a beautiful blue rose from the insides of his coat. "A fine-looking flower for a fine-looking gentleman. I do hope you accept this token of friendship."
The man flushed a little, taking the flower hastily. "Thank you for the time." Yukiteru smiled and bowed a little, then he went away, leaving the other to stare at his back in wonder.
Walking through the crowds, the black-haired man put up a menacing grin.
Now for the main event.
Natsume growled, finally reaching the long table after countless of women barring his way and talking his ear off with their sickly sweet, high-pitched voices and men who he had previously worked for. Running a hand through his already messy hair (Ruka will lecture him again, but che, he doesn't care), he walked over to the wine racks and started to pinpoint a good one.
"Hello there, beautiful."
Not again.
He chose to ignore the beckoning call, skimming through the selection for his bottle to just hurry up and get his ass out of here before this-
"Aaw, what is with this negligence play?" The voice tutted directly to his ear, making him whirl around, angry and a bit startled at the sudden intrusion of personal space. "The fuck are you doing, you bastard?" Natsume hissed in a low tone, resisting the urge to throw his glass to the other man's face. "Stop following me!"
"I didn't follow you, darling." The man replied in a smooth tone, the cheeky grin on his face contradicting his words. "I was simply getting an appetizer for myself when I happened to see you over here, so I thought, why not strike up a conversation with an acquaintance?"
"Nobody said anything about us being 'acquaintances', you arse." Natsume scowled, snatching a random bottle off the rack. "And besides, what are you even doing here, Narumi?"
"How cold." The older blond remarked, placing a hand on his hip and his signature earring glinting. "I was invited, of course! By the magnificent ladies of the Bredett House! Surely you didn't think that I, the great count," he flourished his being, "would waste away an offer like that?"
Of course not. Known as the famous ladies', and sometimes, men's, man across the country despite his age, it would be a nationwide surprise if he does turn down a well-known clan, and with striking females, so to speak.
But there certainly is something more to that glowing face and flirty attitude. Only Natsume and Ruka know; even up to now, they are still baffled by this man's true self.
"Obviously not." The black-haired man snorted, attempting to walk around Narumi to escape. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to get back to my post."
"Bah, here on those little detective games?" Narumi flipped his hair dramatically, slinging an arm around the other's shoulders and catching the other by surprise. "Really, Mr. Imai is uptight, no?" He waved a charismatic hand to some of the women looking at their direction, making them giggle and squeal behind their fans. "You should be enjoying tonight! Look at the party, the food!" He gestured to the people. "The women!"
"My type of enjoyment only concerns my flat and booze, thanks." Natsume said crossly, shrugging off the arm as he walked away. "And don't just casually do that. We're not close."
Narumi pouted. "What a spoilsport." He slinked after Natsume silently, as if in deep thought. "Say, where is that friend of yours? Nogi, was it?"
"He doesn't swing that way, bastard." The other spat, clutching the neck of the bottle tightly as he stomped his way through the mass. "Find some other fuck buddy to entertain you tonight."
He pursed his lips, and the light in his eyes turned steady. "Oya, oya, Natsume." He stopped and pulled the younger one by his arm, effectively halting him in the middle of the crowd. Natsume looked over his shoulder questioningly and Narumi gave an easy smile, but the other knew that he was serious as he squeezed his limb gently. "You should have picked from the 18th rack. The wine is fresher when it is recently brewed."
I need to tell you something about our criminal.
"Make it quick." Natsume said coldly, thumbing off the corkscrew on the wine bottle nonchalantly. Narumi kept on smiling, but he subtly shook his head and cocked it to the side. "No can do. Too many people, his men may be around."
"Are you saying he's already here?" Natsume hissed, sloshing the wine in the glass and nearing it near his mouth. "Without us knowing?"
"Don't be a fool." The other's left brow twitched. "I'm just proposing that he may have ordered his men around, latched on connections, and they might have been able to go inside under false identities. But either way, stay alert and be careful. We also have men."
The black-haired man noticed two with their golden earrings, one picking food by the table, and another dancing with a young woman. He took a sip, narrowing his eyes. "You wouldn't stop me if that was all."
He suddenly felt a hand on his waist, and he was prepared to bite off Narumi's head when the blond gave him a warning look as he held him in place. For an outsider, the move might look intimate, but Narumi needed to give him something without looking suspicious in any way, and this was the only one. "Here," he said in a low tone, slipping a folded piece of paper in his pocket, "destroy this after you have read it."
As quickly as it happened, the man released Natsume, catching him off-guard and making him stumble a little. He glared as the other went back to his usual self. "Bastard!"
Narumi smirked and blew an exaggerated kiss to his direction. "Ta, my little darling, and enjoy the rest of the night!" Having said that, he turned around and waltzed away.
Standing there, he waited for the man's presence to disappear while finishing his wine, and when he did only then he started moving, transferring his glass to the other hand and unfolding the paper as much as he could in his pocket.
When he got to a corner he deemed private enough, he took out the paper and squinted his eyes at the feminine handwriting in the dim light.
Don't lose sight of Ruka Nogi.
He stared at the small sheet in incredulity then gritted his teeth, fingers clenching around the material a bit too tightly.
You're fucking kidding me.
It doesn't make any goddamn sense. The Black Phantom was /targeting/ his best friend? For what? A grudge? Impossible. Ransom? Why him when there're people with far more riches?
Well, whatever it is, Natsume thought, pissed, ripping the damned paper with his teeth, they'd have fucking hell to pay if they dared to lay a finger on him.
With that, he let the bits of paper flutter down the ground as he walked away, the ink smudging Ruka's name away as it was stepped on by the passing people.
A pair of bright hazel eyes followed the black-haired man through the crowd from the second floor balcony, an exclusive floor, placing two fingers on her blood-colored lips contemplatively.
She heard light footsteps climb the last steps of the staircase and she called out, gaze still glued to her target. "Did you deliver the message?"
"Yes." Narumi sighed, waving a hand to a server and taking his place next to her, also watching the man under his blond fringe. "I imagine he's surprised and angry right now." The waiter came and offered a glass of sparkling water, and he accepted it with a soft murmur of thanks.
"I suppose so." She replied, tracing the rim of her own glass. "But I would be, too, if I was in his place instead." She frowned, voice tinged with concern. "What does Ruka have to do with this, anyway?"
The man sighed, turning around to lean his back against the railings, staring up at the ochre ceiling. "I don't know either, Mikan." He answered truthfully, also a little worried and wary. "Our informant has collected data from their circle that Ruka is an interest for the thief's men."
"Maybe they fancy him?" The woman tried to joke, but she sighed sullenly and tilted her neck to look at his profile. "Keep track of them both. I want east, north under surveillance. Alert me if anything is off or suspicious, and tell your men to not slack off."
Narumi arched an eyebrow but didn't look at her. "Now you sound like your mother when she was exactly your age. In the genes?"
Mikan scoffed, but cracked a smile nonetheless, raising her drink. "I'm thirty seven, old man. I'm nearing this so-called mid-life crisis, so Lord help me if you piss me off."
"And I'm just forty six, no need to be mean and go around calling me old man." The blond smiled back, and also raised his glass in a toast. "Cheers."
"You're finally back." Ruka greeted wryly, arms folded across his chest when Natsume appeared five feet away. "I was about to go look for you. Got lost on your way?"
The other watched the mixed expectant and annoyed expression on his friend's face as he walked closer.
No use in telling him anything.
He shrugged and raised the open wine bottle for a truce, settling next to the blond and ignoring his apparent disbelief. "Bumped into an," he used air quotes, "acquaintance of ours." He tapped Ruka's empty glass in a gesture to refill it.
The other obliged, his face showing confusion. "Who?"
Natsume carefully poured the contents and filled the glass halfway. "Our dear resident flirt."
"Oh." Ruka mouthed, nodding that it was enough and adding a silent 'thanks'. "I thought it was somebody important. What did he want?"
The black-haired man tensed but he covered it up with a scoff, filling up his own flute. "Another lay, I imagine. He asked for you, but I told him you don't swing that way." He paused, then decided to add a little white lie just for his own fun. "And if you did, I'm the one who'll get you first anyway."
His companion was drinking when he said that and he almost spewed the purple liquid. Pulling away from his drink, his body racking with coughs while he taking out his handkerchief and wiping his mouth with it, glaring at Natsume who was trying to stifle his chuckles. "Very funny, Natsume."
"It was. The look on your face was priceless."
"Oh shut up. Thanks to you, Narumi will surely spread it around, and then everybody will think we're gay."
"Aw, poor Ruka, I never knew it would be a bother."
"Of course you didn't." The younger man huffed. He blinked. "But..." He stared at the other casually, but there was an amused and teasing glint in his eyes. "...what you said may be true, if ever."
Natsume's half-choke on his wine made him laugh triumphantly.
The man glared dangerously at him when something on the blond's chest caught his eye, tugging a frown on his brows. "Where the hell did you get that?"
"What?" Ruka stared down at his outfit, checking for any tear when he realized what Natsume meant. "Oh, you mean this?" He tapped the fresh rose tucked in his breast pocket. The other nodded. "Someone gave it to me a while ago, when you were at the banquet."
Natsume stared at it, suspicious, and opened his mouth to say it when their attention was diverted with the emcee bounding up the platform and tapping the microphone again. "E-hem, yes, a good evening again, ladies and gentlemen!" He smiled against the harsh light as he got the full attention. "Enjoying so far?" Murmurs of agreement were roused from the crowd. "Well, I sure am, the shepherd's pie and I are really getting along well! Isn't it charming?"
Seeing that Ruka's attention was diverted, Natsume slung his arm around the other's shoulders and carefully pulled out the rose. Too suspicious, he thought, as he stared at the petals and laughs rumbled throughout the hall, there's no way someone would give this to him without a motive.
The emcee's smile widened. "Now, now, I do hope you're still on your toes and sober enough, for it is finally the highlight of the night!"
The pair looked at each other, and Natsume sighed, getting Ruka's glass and dropping it on the nearest table along with his own and the wine bottle.
Time for work, then.
"Sir, they will raise the curtains in a few moment's time."
Blue eyes flashed beneath the mask, and a smirk played on thin lips.
"Very well. Positions, my lovelies! Another chapter of the Black Phantom's Great Heists will be written soon!"
"May we call on our curator, Mr. Harada, to present to us our main display!"
Out of the corner of his eyes, Natsume saw a pink-haired man move to the stage, shaking hands of various people along the way, skin creased into a kind smile.
"Keep a close watch on the areas near the display." Ruka murmured, tugging at the ends of the other's coat gently to indicate that they should inch forward to get closer. "We can't let anyone slip."
Natsume nodded, crimson gaze sweeping.
Yukiteru watched with glee in the front, ready to give the signal to his comrades who were scattered among the crowd.
"Good evening, everyone!" Mr. Harada greeted, clasping his hands together and giving the clothed display beside him a brief glance. "It is my pleasure to give you one of the rarest treasures in the world, excavated deep within the mountains and ridges from the other side of the globe, I present to you..."
Here it comes!
Mr. Harada swept his arm in a grand gesture, smiling.
"..the Alice Stone!"
As the curtain was pulled up, the audience barely had time to see the glowing stone when the sound of glass breaking suddenly erupted, and the people screamed as the lights went haywire and smoke filled the room.
"Ah, another chapter begins!" A voice called out in glee, and a man proudly pranced up to the display and pivoting on his heel to watch the chaos, people running, wine bottle knocked off tables, food being squashed under the stampede. Security was trying to come closer, but no matter, he thought, snapping his fingers and ordering his men to resist them, this was not his business.
He motioned to two close men and smiled briefly at the still Mr. Harada standing to the side who was giving him a murderous glance. "I believe that you needed security?" The masked man nodded. "Go through the back door; there's a carriage waiting!" He saluted in a mocking way as the other was ushered. "Enjoy your night!"
As they left, the man turned to the display and admired the stone, rainbow obsidian with glittering, tiny rocks scattered on its surface. "A bit simpler than what I expected, but no matter!" He lightly placed his hands on either side of the glass and slowly, carefully lifted it, placing it on the floor. Whipping out a velvet pouch, he scooped the gem and slid it inside. "Well boys, our work here is done!"
"You!"
"Oh?" He raised an eyebrow at the pair who was pushing their way through the stampede, then smirked when he recognized one. "My, want to spend the night together?"
"You bloody arse!" Ruka shouted, freeing himself from the crowd. "Give the stone back!"
"Nope." Yukiteru sang, dangling the pouch. "Do you have any idea how long we waited for this?"
"We don't give a fuck," Natsume growled, pushing a chair out of the way, "just give it back so this is over and done with!"
"Natsume! Ruka!" A female voice called, and they saw Mikan with Narumi dashing down the stairs. "Don't let him get away!"
The blond angrily looked back at the criminal who was smiling mischievously. "I thought you were Mikan's cousin-!"
Yukiteru pretended to mull it over. "Do you know," he raised his index finger, "that there's something called lying?" He laughed. "You should try it sometime!"
"Bastard!" Ruka raced to the platform, ignoring Natsume's shout of warning and pulling his arm back to slam his fist against the other's face when he was suddenly yanked back by his collar by a bulky man, arms locked behind his back. "Shit-!"
"You idiot!" Natsume yelled, scrabbling through the mess. "Let go of him!"
Yukiteru frowned, eyes raking through the blond's body. "Where's the rose, darling? Threw it away?"
Ruka stuttered in confusion. "R-rose? It was..." he stared down his breast pocket and gasped, snapping his head towards the black-haired male who was clutching the flower in his right hand. "Natsume!"
Yukiteru whistled. "This serves us better, then!"
Natsume's face morphed into surprise, then anger. "I knew there was someth-fuck!"
A cloud of dust suddenly billowed from the flower, making Natsume cough and his eyes burn. He desperately tried to bury his nose in the crook of his elbow, but he already inhaled some from his coughing fit and he collapsed, body feeling heavy.
Through his hazy vision, he saw his friend trying to break away from the black-suited men who were holding him back. "R-Ru...ka..."
"Natsume!" Ruka shouted, struggling against the men's hold. "NATSUME!"
The black-haired man saw the criminal walk closer to the other, and he tried his best to push his body off the ground. "Ssh," Yukiteru hushed, tilting the blond's chin up, mischievous blue clashing with defiant cornflower, "he will be fine, pretty boy. Now shall we take our leave, then?"
Ruka ripped away from the man's touch, seething and lashing out. "Let go of me, you bastards!"
Yukiteru withdrew, pouting. "My, my, quite the violent type, no?" He gestured to the man on his left. "Make him shut up."
The man did as he was commanded, and he sharply twisted Ruka's arm behind his back, making him cry out and drop to his knees. Natsume gritted his teeth, black and white spots dancing in his peripherals. "No!"
"Well then, Natsume Hyuuga," the masked man smirked, waving his fingers, "ta!"
Natsume tried to reach out to their retreating figures desperately, angrily, with the last of his energy, but a wave of sleepinesss hit him, and his arm thudded on the floor.
"No! NATSUME!"
His consciousness slipped away.
The carriage bumped over the potholes of the muddy road, shaking the people inside. The masked man carefully pulled off his headdress and shook his black hair.
"Good evening sir." He smiled at the man opposite of him, placing the mask on his lap. "I believe an introduction is in place. Akira Tonoichi, No.1109."
"Akira..." The man murmured, arms folded across his chest. "Quite a risky stunt you played there."
"My love for theatrics is a bit too much at times, I admit, but I assure you," he placed a hand on his chest, "it will not hinder the job."
The other hummed. "I suppose it was brilliant."
Akira bowed his head. "Such praise is overwhelming." He looked up with a feral grin. "And I have to say, I commend your marvelous acting, sir. The pained cry is so realistic, I would have believed it myself."
The man leaned forward, a smirk playing on his lips and blue eyes twinkling. "Practice, my friend," Ruka said softly, "when one needs to be discreet, you need to be a flawless actor."
They both laughed it off as the moon followed their journey in their rickety transportation.
You have served me well.
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