Disclaimer: I do not own Michiru and Haruka's characters. I do, however, own the plot, the vile villians, and the belief that the world is going to end next year. :)
He watched as the blonde exited the castle before turning and sweeping his way back towards the throne room. His black eyes glinted as passing servants bowed to him. Tate, king of the Current Land, glanced over his shoulder before pressing a button on the silver throne he usually occupied. The button was hidden within the intricate detailing of the otherwise basic chair. A small door sprung out of the white marble behind him and he stepped into it, the door invisible against the wall once again as soon as he closed it. Inside this secret door was a medium sized room, the far wall covered by a huge map of the Current Land. Large black X's were marked all across it with only a few areas that were not crossed off. He picked up a large black marker and moved to the map, making another black x in the lower sector beside another. Tate shook his head as he tossed the marker back onto the table beside a folder his daughter had given him a few days ago, a picture of an older man with aqua hair paper-clipped to the front of the manilla folder.
"Where are you, girl? WHERE ARE YOU!" Spit flew from his mouth as he picked up one of the large wooden chairs and threw it against the wall that held the map, causing it to smash. His chest rose and fell violently as he stared at the slightly ripped map, the chair in pieces at the base of the wall. His eyes were narrowed at the map in annoyance, and he turned away from it, pressing a second button beside the door and exiting, still seething.
"Those two better find you this time, or I will punish them both...severely"
-0-
He watched her from a few ridges away, her black horse moving effortlessly across the sand dunes. He chuckled, his plan ingenious. He knew for a fact that he was not the best tracker, not in comparison to his sister, but as a killer her excelled whereas his sister lacked the skills he had. He clucked at his horse, moving his horse across the ridge he was on towards the west, keeping the black horse in his sight.
"I told you I would be the King. Even if that means I follow your trail until you find the girl and kill you and her both. Then, both of you will be out of my hair for good. " He cackled, kicking his horse into a gallop.
-0-
He flicked the reins to his cow, the old animal slowly walking towards the lights ahead, the night market surging with people. He brought his wagon to a stop as he came to his stall. It took him nearly a half an hour to unload his wares, which included several weapons, explosives, and the aqua haired girl he found near the shore line. The girl groaned inaudibly as she raised her head, her eyes beginning to flutter open. He jabbed a small needle into her leg, injecting her with morphine to force her back to sleep.
"Get some sleep, pretty girl. Many men don't like their toys to talk when they are looking," he spoke with a small lisp, most of his teeth missing. He was short and rotund, a great mirror resting at the back of his largish head with a halo of deep red hair partnered with gray. He turned his dark eyes towards the crowd, which seemed to inch around his stand except for a few brave souls who looked a tad worse for wear. One of them, a large burly man in a black leather jacket and ratty blue jeans stopped, moving to touch Michiru's face. A stern slap from the balding salesman stopped him, causing him to jerk his hand back.
"Listen, bub. You want to even think of touchin' 'er, Imma hafta see some cashola," he grinned at the burly man, holding a sawed off shotgun under his trench coat, aiming at the man. The man gruffly growled something about not wanting to touch her anyhow and moved on. The salesman rolled his eyes and set the sawed off shotgun on a table, and kicked back in a rickety wooden chair, his feet on the table. Several other men stopped, each reaching out to stroke the unconscious woman's face before the crooked man ended their idea with a threat of death and a demand for money upfront. When the young woman began to twitch as if about to awaken, he quickly stabbed her with the morphine shot, sending her right back into her deep sleep.
Several of his guns sold had throughout the course of the night and into the next day, giving him a small stack of grubby bills from before the War. He was counting it tediously when a shadow interrupted his work, causing him to look up. His eyes narrowed as the figure caused the sun to shine around it's body, blinding him despite its interference.
"What are you doing, Jaga?" Came the gruff question, sending the man's skin crawling.
"N-nothing. Selling a few wares, trying to make a small penny. You know how it is." He gave an innocent grin, his horrible lisp and dialect gone as easy as they had come. That was his gift with the general public. He could speak like them, think like them, all of them but the person in front of him. The one with the unreadable eyes.
"You were given specific instructions, were you not?" Another gruff question, the voice like ice which gave the man no room to lie even if he wanted to attempt it.
"Yes."
"Why were those instructions ignored?"
"W-well, you see..." He stammered, licking his lips in nervousness, a hand reaching up to rub the patch of flesh at the back of his skull.
"I am not here for excuses. Do you realize I have been traveling for days in search of her? Then I come to find that you had found her and neglected to inform me of it. Wow, and to think we had a deal." The lilt in the voice suggested a vile grin had spread on the speakers features. Jaga gulped, his adam's apple bobbing.
"We do! We do have a deal! I...I just..."
"Always thinking of your wallet before your obligations. Typical of you. Do not forget what scum pond I plucked you from."
"I haven't forgotten! Please! I messed up. Oh boy did I mess up." He tried a new tactic. If reasoning wouldn't work, then perhaps begging would. Who didn't love their ego stroked?
"Yes you did. You messed up bad. Now. Since you were going to sell the girl to the highest bidder..." the figure moved from blocking the sun, and he closed his eyes. When he reopened them, the aqua-haired beauty and the owner of his very soul had vanished. On the table, between a frag grenade and a missile launcher was a piece of folded up paper. Jaga swallowed nervously once again before taking the piece of paper and unfolding it, reading the eerily perfect letters.
"Consider your debt repaid. -H"
A/N: Sorry for the delay in this. Working 6 days a week really drains you after a while. As does finding out your not allowed to put your girlfriend on your insurance because you don't have a penis. _ Days like this I really detest America. I hope everyone is having a better day than myself, and I hope that you enjoy the chapter!