Death Wish

Chapter 1

As I stood back up, I gave the stone one last, longing look. Beneath the smoothened marble lied a mahogany, wooden box, and inside it lied he who had first shown me friendship. He was the first to listen to how I felt.

But things change, I supposed. I had to move on to survive.

Mammon was dead; if I hadn't gotten that through to my head, I wouldn't be known as a genius.

I sighed, turning to leave, but the second I took a step, I bumped into a young man who had been standing behind me. "Oh, excuse me," I said, stepping to the side. The other didn't respond, and he didn't even look at me, he just stood there, staring straight ahead, a rose in his hand. He then leaned down and placed the rose on Mammon's grave, stood up straight, and turned, about to walk away, when I reached forward and grabbed his arm on a whim. "Hey. Who are you?" I asked, turning him so that he'd look at me. He continued to look past me with a blank expression, giving me the impression that there was something wrong with him.

But it soon crossed over my mind just how strange he was. He had bright, teal hair and eyes, pale skin, and lavender, trangular-shaped markings stretching down from his lower eyelids. I'd never seen anything like him- except for...

Then, it hit me.

There was no doubt that this was a relative of Mammon's. Mammon had had indigo hair and eyes, and similar purple markings had been on his cheeks. The resemblence was so close, it almost made me think that somehow Mammon was part of this guy before me, even if he was... a little younger.

"Hey, say something," I said, tilting the man's head upward. "Helloooo?"

The other blinked slowly, and when he reopened his eyes, they were locked right into mine. I tried not to jump when I found that he was looking at me, but I couldn't resist a little quiver of suprise. The deep, teal orbs looked at me so blankly that I almost thought he was blind. But no, impossible, he was looking right at me! After a brief staring, contest, however, the man spoke at last. His voice was soft, and gentle, like a girl's, but the cheeky tone in it immediately got on my nerves. "You gonna keep starin' at me, or are you gonna let me go, blondie?"

I snickered and released him, and the man stepped back, rubbing his arm where I had held him. "Who are you?" I repeated.

"I dunno, who're you?" he countered.

"I'm Mammon's good friend, Belphegor," I said.

"Pfft. What parents would name their kid Belphegor? How lame," the other replied. "I'm Fran."

"Who were you to Mammon?" I asked out of pure curiosity.

"His little brother," Fran answered, folding his arms and looking away. As he clearly wanted nothing to do with me, I sighed, and started to walk away.

"I'm sorry for you, but I've got work," I muttered.

"Hey!"

Suddenly, he was the one to grab my arm, and he yanked me back with a grip so strong that I was thrown backwards onto the ground. Almost immediately, the young man was on top of me, pinning me down with superb strength that I never would have guessed he was concealing. "How close were you to him?" Fran asked, his blank eyes more cruel than those of the countless murderers I'd seen before.

"We were just friends," I said. "Nothing more."

"'Just friends,' you say?" the man answered, leaning down until our foreheads touched together. "You know he was killed?"

"Yes," Bel replied, "it was in the news- now, let me up!"

"Y'think you might know who did it?" the other hissed. "One who does not seek closure for an event like this more than likely doesn't care. One who doesn't care about a good friend... well that just doesn't add up, does it?"

"What are you suggesting?" I asked. The other paused, then sat back, placing his hands on his knees, still looking at me with the unusual deadpan expression.

"I'm suggesting that you had something to do with it," he replied. "You said your name was... Belphegor. And 'Belphegor' is the name of a demon, specializing in the sin of sloth. Hmmm..."

I stared at the blank face for a while longer, before I decided that I wasn't going to wait for him to discover something. I summoned up some willpower, then unleashed it by shoving Fran backwards, and getting up. Even when he shouted for me to stop, I started to run, and I hoped that I wouldn't see him again. He creeped me out, and his thirst to find the source of his brother's homecide was more than what I could handle. I was a fairly sane guy, pleasant, smart, and handsome, I might add. But my tolerance for brokenhearted, crazy people was at its ultimate low.

But somehow, things suddenly got weird... the world around me was suddenly distorted, twisted, I could no longer distinguish up from down. As a fiery headache took over my senses, I stumbled and landed on what must've been the ground, and then found myself grabbed, and dragged away as I struggled to get a hold of my senses. As the headache grew, so did the darkness that quickly took over my mind.

When I gained conciousness again, I found myself in a strange place, filled with random, bright colors that made my head spin. Strange shapes, unrealistic figures... the surreal environment made me feel sick. But it was then that I saw that guy from earlier- that Fran, just sitting in a neon orange, J-shaped object, hugging his knees, his eyes closed.

"Where the hell am I?" I shouted, gripping my head tightly. Fran opened his teal eyes and looked over at me, then hopped out of the odd figure.

"Where else? You're in my training arena," he replied. "What, you think I just distort reality of my own accord? Look, Belphegor, I'm a top notch illusionist, so you better start talking. What do you know about my brother's death?"

His monotonous, droning voice was salt on the open wound. All around me were neon colors, chipping away at my mentality. Maybe Fran had lost his sanity- maybe that was why he could stand this... odd place. "I don't know anything," I hissed, rubbing my forehead, trying to soothe my headache.

"Master!" Fran called. "A word?"

A deep, spooky chuckle echoed around us, and an eerie, white fog rolled into the room, if it could be called that, before collecting into one, tall tower, forming, compressing into the shape of a man, and transforming into one. A man, dressed in a leather jacket and pants, a light blue shirt, and dark blue hair tyed back in a short ponytail, who now stared at Fran with odd, mismatched eyes. "Yes, Fran?" he said, his voice hinting at annoyance. He then spared me a glance, a creepy smile, and asked, "Is this about him?"

"I need you to teach me how to force the truth out of someone," Fran replied.

The older man laughed, and wielded a trident from the mist, before aiming it right at me. Unused to being the victim in any situation, I gasped, ducking away from the metal prongs and into the shocking pink wall behind me. I trembled when faced with the weapon, but it was soon drawn away from me, to be placed on the ground. "Fran, I've told you. To get the truth out of someone, either you must torture them until all of their pride and dignity has dissipated, or, you work your way into the core, where they are most vulnerable, and use them to get the information you want. However, breaking their mental walls often turns against you, even though it is the faster method, whereas weaving into the heart and soul takes a longer time, but will inevitably produce the results you're looking for."

"And, good fruity-headed Mater, approximately how long will it take to do this amazingly effective strategy?" Fran asked, sending me another wary glance.

"It all depends on your skill, dear Fran," the other said, winking at the younger man. "Are you good at handling this kind of thing?"

"Yeah, I guess," Fran muttered. "Which method did you take with your parrot guy?"

"That's a skylark, Fran," Mukuro sighed, before saying, "I took the stick-and-carrot method with him."

The illusionist arched a brow, then placed a hand on the other's chest and pushed him playfully. "You're so bad," he said. "Such a perv, considerin' you're a fruit and all."

Mukuro snorted and returned the little shove. "Anyway, try not to let this one die, and practice your illusions whenever possible."

Fran nodded as the other dispersed into mist, then turned back to me, a spark of mischief playing in his deadpan expression.

"You look like a pretty fun guy."

-End Chapter

Okay, even though there may be some implications here and there, this fic will be rooted in as a rated T. However, this will be my next B26/1869/possiblyXS fanfiction, so I hope it becomes a good one.

Please review!