Okay, so here's chapter two! I would like to thank everybody to reviewed, alerted or even just visited my story. I was so stoked (and amazed) to find out that 44 people had visited my story in the first week after I posted it! :) So I hope you guys like chapter two and continue to read.
I sincerely hope this doesn't come out to rushed at the end, I re wrote it a few times and it didn't work so I just decided it was just a tricky spot and left it as it was. Some feedback on what you guys think would be pretty nice if anyone could spare a few seconds. :)
Disclaimer: I do not own Gakuen Alice or any associated characters and settings
Chapter Two: We don't take charity
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It was almost surreal; seeing faces that weren't smeared with gore and rot. Clean faces, filled with life and intelligent comprehension. The only face Hotaru saw on a regular basis was Mikan's, but that was constantly covered in dirt and fear. As was her own, on the rare times when she deigned to look at her reflection. These faces were male, and clean, and strong and so obviously filled with purpose and a lack of fear. Hotaru was almost fascinated, and from this was able to deduce that Mikan would be absolutely enraptured. Her eyes were drawn almost against her will to the lines of their faces, and the smooth grace in their movements.
She had to remind herself to focus and detach. She had to pretend they were just another threat to Mikan that needed to be assessed and neutralised; which they were, all things considered.
The clearing was fifty meters in berth, and they had landed in the middle. The men bustled with purpose about the large, dull green helicopter. It was large, with two propellers, and the kind that was used in the army for carrying whole troops of men at a time. But there were only six; the watching she frowned suspiciously. This was like no army-issue, goverment-controlled rescue operation she'd ever seen. It was more the vigilante, we-have-weaponary attempt to gather survivors into a new militant society. Or maybe she was being paranoid and overprotective. Four men were working under direction of the pilot to remove some kind of metal device from the cargo hold of the machine. It was large, tubular and sat upright. They set it in the ground and began to plug in the loose wires running all over the outside. It resembled vaguely an engine or futuristic ship motor of some kind; the sort fo thing that frequented sciencefiction movies.
Hotaru narrowed her eyes. The stand of the device had sunk deep into the ground. They weren't planning to remove it any time soon. It must be an explosive, or measuring instrument of some kind.
Suddenly two more men jumped from the cockpit, capturing her attention instantly. They stuck out among the party of eight like sore thumbs; a short red headed man and a blonde so feminine he could easily be mistaken for a girl if not for his height and broad shoulders. They were a splash of colour against a back drop of muted green and black. As opposed to the uniform black jump suits of the men setting up their strange equipment, these two men were wearing clothes Hotaru could only describe as ridiculously colourful and poofy. Fur coats and vests, laced up boots, tight pants and the blonde one was sporting a headpiece so outlandish it offended Hotaru's eyes.
But more than their clothes, her gaze was drawn by their aura of command. The blonde in particular, demanded the attention of those around him. He watched calmly, making no move to assist; Hotaru's lip curled with latent disgust.
He surveyed the set up with a smile and satisfied set to his frame. He opened his mouth, but she was too far away to read his lips properly. The last words were the only ones she caught, and they made little sense to her.
Alice . . . Haven?
Hotaru stored it in her brain for later analysis. Mikan was situated across the clearing and closer to the blonde man. Perhaps she had caught more of his speech. Hotaru tensed when the men began to retreat back to the helicopter, obviously under the orders of the blonde man. Her hand twitched towards her gun out of habit, but she caught herself with an irritated frown. These men gave her a bad feeling.
They left nothing but the strange device behind, packing everything into the helicopter. The rotors of the machine began to turn again. If she and Mikan planned to accompany them, the time to show themselves would be now. She felt Mikan's unseen gaze fixed upon her from the other side of the clearing, despite the fifty metre gap between them. She contemplated the scene before her, and found her worries centred around the device they intended to leave behind.
What was it?
Her brain worked frantically and came up blank and clear of an explanation. It did come up with a safe plan of action, though, which was really the thing she wanted more.
Hotaru made no move as the copter took off into the sky, taking the men with it. She waited for Mikan to skirt back around the edges of the clearing and meet her. They had no way of communicating, so the signal for their retreat was her own inactivity.
She fiddled with her gun, fingers drumming over the barrel while her eyes stared sightlessly ahead, lost in thought. Her ears were straining however, waiting for the slightest warning sound. Just because the dead did not like the park, did not mean they didn't venture here. There was still every chance that she and Mikan could be attacked or swarmed here. And Hotaru was far from stupid enough to forget that.
That's why she was almost put out when she didn't hear Mikan until she was right behind her.
"Why not?"
A shrill voice demanded from behind her. Hotaru let the smallest smile play about her lips. For Mikan to have crept up on her, well; she was pretty good. She'd want to be. Hotaru glanced over her shoulder. Mikan was puffed up in a mild sort of desperate anger; despite having been told not to raise her hopes, she had done so anyway. Hotaru sighed, letting her voice become cold and firm.
"They'll be back. That's why."
Mikan blinked, the angry flush still in her cheeks, her mouth half open to reply but not quite there yet.
"What do you-"
"They left that thing there," Hotaru interrupted impatiently. Mikan's inability to think things through without her heart getting in the way had always been irritating.
"That means they intend to come back! Don't you see?" She snapped.
Mikan closed her mouth with a clack of teeth hitting each other, her protesting at an end. Hotaru watched the agreeable dopiness return to her eyes. Mikan could never stay mad at anyone. She settled down calmly (calm for Mikan being she only fidgeted slightly) and began watching the trees around them.
"What are we going to do until then?"
Hotaru interlocked her fingers contemplatively, still tapping on the gun barrel with her fingers.
"I'm going to look at that thing, see what I can find out. Then we're going to find a new hole."
Hole was their nickname for each place they stayed. Home was too permanent a word for a hideout that could be compromised at a second's notice. Silence followed her statement however, and Hotaru's head snapped up warningly.
"What, Mikan?"
Mikan's face was twisted into the thoughtful pout she wore whenever she had to disagree with Hotaru because she had a better idea. Hotaru hated that look, because for Mikan to disagree with her, she generally had to be pretty confident in her idea being the better course of action.
"How about I go find us a hole, and you check the . . . thing out?"
"NO!"
Ah, maybe in this instance Hotaru was wrong about the intelligence behind her suggestion. She opened her mouth to shut down the idea immediatly, with venom. Something Mikan was surprised by, evidently.
Because she didn't know exactly what had happened at their past hole.
"We won't be seperated for long!" She added hastily, her face earnest. Hotaru kept her expression stoney. This was not something she was prepared to budge on. Mikan locked eyes with her, and her face drooped from earnest to disappointed. But there was an edge in her face, a confused gleam to her eyes.
"After all this time . . . you still don't trust me?"
Hotara jerked back as if she'd been struck. And really, she had. Right through the chest.
"What? No! No." She ran a hand through her choppy hair in frustration. Mikan stared steadily, her gaze uncompromising and unwavering. Hotaru splayed her fingers against her forehead and glared through them.
"We have time."
"Not enough."
"It'll still be here tomorrow."
"You don't know that."
"It's dangerous out there."
"I can take care of myself."
"Plenty of people could take care of themselves, Mikan," Hotaru laughed humorlessly, bitterly. "But it doesn't take just a mistake or a stupid decision. It's about luck. Luck, and caution."
"And I have both!" Mikan said pleadingly, her face softening. "You know I do. I went out yesterday. so what's the problem this time?"
"That," spat Hotaru, grinding her teeth. "Was different."
"How?" Mikan cried, her face twisting in a mix of hurt. Hotaru felt a burning anger rise up in her stomach and flood her chest. She had begun to snarl an angry reply, then was reminded why they were arguing in the first place. A searing pain lashed through her back and she let out an involuntary cry of pain. She fell forward, her head thumping into the ground with a force that left her dizzy. She gasped when a weight dropped on top of her, pinning her body to the ground and pressing on her injury.
Wetness dripped down the side of her head, and her back felt sticky and warm. Pain pulsed through her system with every beat of her heart. She was aware of animalistic snarling in her ear and a smell of breath and rotted flesh so horrible that had her face not been pressed into the dirt she would choked on unavoidable vomit. As it was she was facing an inability to breath and choking on that instead.
"Hotaru!"
A sharp bang and the weight was lifted clear off her back. She was roughly shoved over onto her back; the relief of being able to breath once more was dwarfed by the immense pain. Fire raced over her back and pounded against her skull. A gentle set of hands was on her, checking her body and finding nothing but a seemingly endless flow of blood.
"Oh god. Oh god."
Mikan's voice sounded above her. In the background rapidly approaching screams sounded. The hands on her body began to jerk with panic and shake. Hotaru felt detached; hadn't she been smart enough to avoid this? She didn't think she was stupid . . .
"Hotaru! HOTARU! Hotaru, can you hear me?"
The voice was shaking as much as the hands now, Hotaru noted with a detached sort of drowziness she really should have found alarming. A firm grip found her shoulder and shook her, sending pain in waves along her spin. Hotaru gasped.
"Hotaru! I need you to listen, okay? I'm gonna tie this up and- damn it!"
The hands were gone and the screaming was thunderous and there was snarling and thudding and the sound of heavy bodies crashing through foliage. She opened her eyes dazedly, making out with rapidly blurring vision the outline of someone standing over her body. And approaching shadows of darkness that she could not quite name in her state.
She knew they were bad news. Mikan. She knew Mikan should run. Run, Mikan. She knew why they'd broken into the hospital yesterday. They know Mikan. She knew they were getting smarter, and stronger. Why we do things. How. She knew. Now she just had to warn Mikan before she passed out. They're starting to learn. She opened her mouth; nothing came out. We don't stand a chance. Panic rose in her, she must say it now! There's too many.
"Mi- Mikan . . . "
Run.
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She panted harshly, feet slapping against the ground and sending a wave of pain up her body with every impact. The world around was a mix of fog, flickering artificial light and freezing rain. Blood pounded in her ears. Exhaustion weighed her limbs and terror sped them up. Behind her came sounds of pursuit above the rain. Screaming and screeching and the thundering sound of many things all moving at once. They sounded closer than they had moments before, though time was blurring so much she didn't know exactly how fast they were gaining. She only knew that if she slowed down even in the slightest, she would die.
Mikan didn't want to die. Not at all. The thought caught in her throat and became a choked sob. Tears dripped down her cheeks steadily, hidden in the rain. There was only so far one person could run.
The duffel bag thrown over her shoulder was distinctly more of a burden now than it had been when she'd begun her run. The rocks inside smacked against her back heavily; blood had begun to drip from the wounds. The cold water washed it away instantly. Mikan wagered she was the cleanest she'd been in months, and another strangled sob escaped her. She blinked her eyes rapidly to disperse the rain water.
A stupid mistake when she was this tired; a wave of vertigo hit and she stumbled. Even adrenaline couldn't give her the strength to stay on her feet. She went down like a tonne of bricks, the bag crashing on top of her. A wave of agony raced up her left leg and she cried out, a sound muffled by the bag that struck her head. She blacked out briefly.
She came to moments later, her head crushed between a bag of rocks and the tracks of the railway she had been running down. It ached with a vengence. She blinked her eyes a few times to dispel the black spots in her vision. Her arms trembled violently when she went to push herself up. They collapsed almost immediatly. Her chest heaved against the gravel. Panic rose in time with the howls in the distance, which didn't seem so distant anymore. She tried again, desperation helping her where determination couldn't. Her torso left the ground, and she twisted onto her back. Another cry of pain ripped from her throat. Her left ankle lay at an angle to the rest of her body, twisted in a way that widened her eyes and dried up her throat.
She didn't have time to sit around and fix it, and she was not going to give up and die on the ground like an animal. Which left the one option of sucking it up and moving on. Mikan gritted her teeth and forced her right leg under her body, shrieking when it jostled her injured ankle. She curled her left leg inwards and moaned in pain. Her body made a crunching sound when she collapsed back onto the tracks. Sobs ran through her body, accompanied by shivers now that she had ceased her frantic running.
She could not stand on her own. That much was obvious. She looked up and scanned her surroundings. After the tracks there was a gentle slope of the ground down to an abandoned garage. Two metres in front of it rested a telephone pole. Mikan clenched her fists and rolled onto her belly. It was now or never. Her strength was only fading with time. As was the gap between her and those hunting her.
Her progress along the ground was unsteady; pain rendered her unable to go more than a metre or so at a time. The power to move her legs was being evasive, and her fingers tips bled where stone and dirt and frantic clawing had torn off her finger nails. The icy cold of the metal traacks was enough to keep her awake when she reached the the tip of the hill. A sigh of relief that was closer to a sob escaped her throat. She forced herself to roll over one more time, to clear the tracks. Dazedly she realised too late that she should have been more careful near the hill. Without the strength to stop her self, she slid down the hill.
She stuck out her arms to brake, but they crumpled like paper and she tumbled head over heels, her ankle banging against the ground with every revolution. Her mind blacked-out again once she hit the bottom, and she lay in drowsy doze of pain.
Howls echoing across the yard, far too close, jolted her awake. With a frantic fear now racing through her limbs, she scrambled to the telephone pole on her knees and hauled herself up. It braced her back firmly and she looked out in the direction she had come. A mass of shadowy shapes approached at high speeds, spread in one crowd through the fog. A gasp caught in her throat; the fear she lived with everyday at its highest. Her head wound stung against the pole as she looked to the left. The station. It would have plenty of hiding places. And she was on her feet now. There was still time.
Mikan pushed off the pole, limping unsteadily towards the darkened buildings, the screams of the hoard following her. She almost made it to the shelter of the shadows.
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She was vaguely aware of people milling around her. Shouting, shoving and fighting. That was alright. She was used to that. Once they'd decided who got the first bite, the pain would go away and she could sleep. She was lifted suddenly, onto a springy surface that felt squishy and comfortable against her face. It rose into the air and she was floating. It was nice; she let her senses drift away, blocking out the world. Black came up to swallow her like the tide.
The motion coming to a stop woke her once more.
"Hello? Can you hear me?"
Hands roamed over her body, testing and prodding gently. If she'd had the strength to pierce the fog in her mind she would've shoved them off. This is not how it goes. They shouldn't be gentle, they should be clawing and ripping. Tearing her skin until it was in shreds and as ugly as theirs. A smooth-skinned hand slipped into her own, squeezing it gently.
"There must be more, this couldn't be the only one . . ." A voice murmured in her ear, soft and wondering. Not familiar, but there was only one person it could be. Clearly Mikan hadn't been seriously hurt when she'd saved them. She wished she would wake up properly and be able to move soon. But her body felt like it was made of lead; her thoughts were sluggish too. Not even the cool stinging in her back and burn as it was wrapped in something she would assume was gauze could bring her strength to the surface. She was trapped in her own mind.
And she stayed that way for an indefinite amount of time.
Floating on more clouds of contentment and comfort she waited. Everything felt gentle and nice and light and she needn't move for anything. The gentle hands and a soothing voice surrounded her whenever she brought her thoughts to the surface, and she felt aware of them even when she was not listening. Gradually the fire in her back dulled, along with the aches in her muscles. She started to think maybe it was time to wake up properly and thank Mikan. She brought her mind to the surface to listen.
"She's nearly recovered. Could wake up any minute actually . . ."
"Have you had any luck finding others?"
"Nope. Nothing. This one shows up on the radar though, so unless the others are dead, she's the only one here . . ."
She did not comprehend what was being said, only that there were two people talking, and neither of them were Mikan. Then she processed the meaning behind their conversation. A dread stronger than any she'd felt before blossomed in her chest, along with it the memories of her last conscious conversation with Mikan.
Hotaru's eyes snapped open of their own accord and she forced herself roughly off the ground with no heed to pain or injury. Before her sat two people, staring back at her in alarm. Something was wrong, so wrong it was making her sick. The fresh, clean faces that stared back with wide eyes and had so enraptured her in the past now made her furiously angry. She met both stares head on.
Neither were chocolate brown.
"Where's Mikan?"
". . . Who?"
"Mikan! Where's Mikan!" She spat ferociously, anger burning in her veins. The two men shifted uncomfortably. They looked familiar, but Hotaru was somewhat distracted to place them in her memories. Not that it would require much effort; she didn't know many people. The one on the right; an average sized man with watery blue eyes that couldn't meet hers for more than a minute at a time, cleared his throat.
"Is Mikan your friend? Was she here with you?"
Hotaru fough the urge to reach out and claw his face off. No one patronised her. She hissed in frustration. "If she was with me I wouldn't need to ask where she was, now would I?" Her fists clenched in the blankets below. Her frenzied mind vaguely registered the stetcher she was sitting on amongst other frenzied thoughts of Mikan. Where was that stupid moron? She composed her face and weighed up her company. The men from before. They sat across from her stretcher in what appeared to be a tent.
"What's going on?" Her voice was cold, calm.
The men exchanged a look, far too knowing for Hotaru's comfort. The blue eyed man sighed. "I suppose you'd like an explanation, right?" He offered her a strained smile, which was met with stoney silence and a glare.
"I think we'd like one too," joked the other man, who had no hair and an incredibly shiny head. Hotar's lip curled slowly in disgust, a warning that further attempts at humor would not be welcomed. The man coughed uncomfortably, a flush travelling up his neck. He got to his feet and exited the tent flap with a muttered, "I'll get Narumi."
Hotaru watched him leave impassively, her gaze calculating. The other man cleared his throat again. She turned to him.
"My name is Kent. What's yours little lady? I must say gave us quite a surprise getting our attention like that. We weren't expecting there to anyone here who wasn't . . . "
"Dead." Hotaru finished flatly. "I wouldn't presume you know anything for sure unless you intend to end up the same way." She fell into silence, her cold demeanor forcing Kent to do the same. He shifted awkwardly every few seconds; she ignored him.
They didn't know Mikan, which meant somewhere between getting their attention and leaving Hotaru to be found she had vanished. Hotaru knew it would do no good to panic and worry; she locked her emotions away. Her current predicament would require thought. She was not sure of their motives nor did she know where they had come from. It was a time for caution. Her primary aim; find Mikan. To reach that she would need to understand her situation and find out wether allying with these people was a benefit or a liability. Hotaru smiled inperceptively to herself; she had intended to have this confrontation at some point anyway.
Both she and Kent looked up when the tent flap opened once more, Kent with relief and her with a sense of satisfaction. She was prepared for this. The men who entered were those she had expected to see. The extravagantly dressed gentlemen with outlandish hair. She observed impassively.
"You can leave Kent," the blonde man chirped right off the bat, with a voice too bright and happy for the average person. He settled himself in the chair Kent vacated without complaint. Hotaru watched him hurry from her company with cruel delight. The man with red hair stood aside to let him pass, muttering something to him as they brushed shoulders. Kent shook his head minutely. Hotaru's sneer was vaguely triumphant. The red head sat down once the tent flap closed once more.
"I think introductions are in order. I'm Reo."
Hotaru stared at him flatly. For some reason his words lingered in her mind, like a fog of sorts. He met her gaze with a grin.
"In the two odd minutes you've been awake you've managed to cower two of my men," His voice was wry and quite lovely; the nicest sounding voice Hotaru had ever heard. "You're certainly a tough little lady." Hotaru smiled coldly. Why did her head still feel funny?
"Well, yes. You'd hope so."
Ice settled around the room, freezing over any attempts at genial conversation. Reo looked taken aback. Obviously another fool. She disregarded him. A sigh caught her attention. The other man stared at her with a small smile and bright eyes an unsual purple shade just a few tones lighter than her own. Hotaru met his eyes and suddenly found herself drowing in them. His smile widened ever so slightly; his lips parted as if to talk. She unconsciously leaned forward, not entirely in control of her body.
"Hello, my name's Narumi Anjo. Could you tell me yours?"
NO! what's wrong? What's happening? What's wrong with me? WHY CAN'T I SAY NO!
"Hotaru."
"And could you tell me how you got here?"
Hotaru's body trembled and she was glaring with more hate than she'd ever felt in her life. How was he doing it? Narumi tilted his head, and exchanged a look with Reo that she would have pegged as confused. She was frozen in place, like her body wanted nothing more than to obey this man's will.
"Mikan." The words ripped from her throat so unwillingly they came out like a growl. Narumi smiled, though his self-satisfied smirk was shrinking into concern.
"Another like yourself?" Hotaru nodded grudgingly. "Where is she now?" Her muscles stopped straining. All the fight went out of her and she stared at them with something very like hopelessness.
"I don't know. Dead, maybe."
She sounded exhausted, even to her own ears, and cringed internally. Narumi's face softened, and suddenly Hotaru was herself again. Her head snapped up and she looked at him fiercely. He pursed his lips.
"I won't make you talk anymore. But if you can trust us of your own accord, I want you to know that we can help you."
Hotaru laughed bitterly, "Why, oh god why, would I trust you? Even before . . . that thing you did." Her lips twisted into an angry sneer. "I haven't made it this far because I offered my help to everyone."
"Just Mikan." Reo input reasonably. "You're Hotaru, right? Well we come from a place where it's safe. I know it's hard to believe, but there are others. We have a base, over near Tokyo. We can share stories and details later, but the bottom line is that we have every intention of svaing as many people as we can, including you." He hesitated. "And your friend."
Hotaru narrowed her eyes at him. What benefit would they gain by lying? They would have had countless opportunities to hurt her if they'd wished, and they obviously had ways of making her obey if they wanted. She thought quickly. Serious technology, obviously clean living conditions, healthy, well-fed and civilised. They certainly looked convincing. She had everything to gain and nothing to lose by accepting the help of these people. How much worse could her life get? She pursed her lips.
"I'll come with you."
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