A/N: Tsume's chapter. Starting to wonder if anyone's listening out there... Chapter two – Nature red in claw, at least (kaijin)
"Some say you're trouble, boy
Just because you like to destroy
All the things that bring the idiots joy
Well, what's wrong with a little destruction?"
- Franz Ferndinard, 'The Fallen'
The grey wolf was on the hunt. There was blood in the air…
There was blood. Was it his own? Or something else's? He could see it, sense it. His whole body was aflame, every nerve ending on fire. He fancied he could feel the cold night air stirring every hair on his pelt. He was looking for someone…
…the runt. Where was the runt?
Something stepped on a twig ahead of him, the sound sharp as a gunshot in the gloom. Eyes that were somehow wrong glinted at him, blue steel and brass, and he growled, the sound reverberating though his body, and leapt at them.
There was an answering snarl and a sudden numbness in his side. He felt his teeth sink into cold darkness and –
Something, or someone, prodded him.
Tsume leapt into wakefulness, knife in hand, pinning the intruder to the floor. He could feel a pounding pulse under his knuckles, under the sharp barbed blade. His 'attacker' gasped weakly for breath. "Boss?"
He cursed under his breath and stood, allowing the boy to rub his neck and scramble to his feet. "Why are you in here? I thought I told everyone not to wake me."
"Well, Kuro said that they had something from last night's raid you might –"
"Fine. Get out." He rubbed the back of his own neck. The kid looked uncertain, and hesitated.
"But –"
"Out!!" He snarled, and the little red-head scampered. He flopped back down on the ruined sofa and put his head in his hands.
"Some dream." He mumbled wryly. He side was still numb, though – must have been sleeping a weird position; he touched it, gingerly, just to check he hadn't actually managed to scrap himself on a bit of metal or something, then a sudden image bloomed in his mind's eye – bright blood, red as
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berries flowing from a mess in his side over his black leathers and onto white snow.
What the hell? I must be going crazy. For one thing, blood doesn't show up on black that well anyway. He thought, stretching, yawning as wide as cat, before going out into the hallway. He could hear the rain clattering on the roof and plinking in the empty cans and other containers scattered around the hideout – an huge old abandoned building, all rotting concrete and mouldy wood – there wasn't a door or window that still had glass in it, but they were all stuffed with rags except at the sentry posts, so it wasn't too bad. Still, Tsume swore quietly to himself as yet another leak dripped from the ceiling directly on to his head. Damn rain. I hate getting wet. Why is it always raining in this stupid city? It's a wonder we all haven't been flooded out like rats by now.
The few gang members scurried past him, muttering greetings without looking up. They were scared – honestly, he couldn't blame them. He'd been pushing them to more and more reckless raids over the last weeks, simply to see if he could. He'd be highly suspicious if they weren't frightened and angry over his sudden change in pace, especially since losing five of their number to the cops last night – three dead and two captured.
A burst of raucous laughter informed him where the majority of the group were, and he stalked into the dilapidated living room to find the noisy
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crew howling with laughter at something on the tiny, cracked TV positioned on a crate at the far end.
Upon seeing him, one of the gang members leapt up, grinning. "Tsume! We thought you were gonna sleep the day away…"
"I would have, if some dumb kid hadn't woken me up. What is it, Kuro?" The rest of the room had gone mostly quiet, now most of the attention had been drawn away from the TV.
Kuro coughed a semi-nervous laugh at the 'dumb kid' comment, then motioned to two other gangsters standing by the small anteroom (believed to have been originally a storage cupboard) to bring their struggling bundle out. "An intruder, oh fearless leader. After last night's loot. We were gonna deal with him ourselves but something he said made us think you might like to take a look at him. See, the trick is that guy thinks he's psychic."
"Really?" This could be interesting. He ignored the sarcasm lacing his subordinate's first sentence, and motioned, almost imperceptibly, with one hand. "Ungag him."
"Mmf mm mm-mmf!" Protested the prisoner, flinching as one of the crooks cut the gag away with a sharp knife. Huffing in breath, he repeated, "I'm not psychic! I never said that."
"Liar," sneered Kuro, flicking his own knife open threateningly. "I oughta –"
"Leave it." The gangster ignored him, taking a step towards the still-bound young man – he was probably in his early to mid-twenties, Tsume guessed, but the plumpness to him made him appear younger. He repeated the command, growling, "I said leave it, Kuro."
The russet-haired man looked challengingly into the scarred one's strange, molten gold eyes. He managed to hold the unblinking gaze for a full minute before having to look away, grimacing. "Sorry, boss. Won't happen again."
"I'll believe it when I see it." He nodded, then turned back to their captive. "Okay, so what did you say?"
He shrugged as well as his bonds would allow, mop of tawny hair bobbing. "I'm just a cook. I can smell what people like best, is all."
That provoked a roar of derisive laughter from the gang, all of which were now otherwise listening intently. Tsume, however, raised an eyebrow. "Yeah? Okay…Ursa, here."
Ursa was a huge mountain of a man, perfectly built for breaking down doors – when the lockpickers failed for breaking and entering, it was usually Ursa doing the breaking. He didn't speak much – talking was too much of a strain on his mental capacity. "Yur, boss?"
"Stay right there. Right, then, what does Ursa here like, porky?"
The captive managed to struggle half to his knees, then fell on his side once more, to another ripple of hilarity. He grinned up at Tsume cheekily. "It'd be easier if I could stand up."
The white-haired man's face didn't so much as twitch. "No. It's bad enough you can open your trap."
To his slight (very slight) credit, the dark blonde looked (very) mildly contrite, then glanced up at Ursa, sizing him up, sniffing the air. "Fine. Alright, I bet you're normally tagged as a sushi man, aren't you? Either that or rare steak. But what you really like, after a long hard day, is one of those little poached duck-eggs, with maybe few well-done curly fries, and a nice cold raspberry daiquiri if you're feeling down. I am I right?"
Ursa blinked, slowly. Then, like sheet-ice breaking, he nodded. "My girlfriend makes good daiquiris."
A look of relief passed over the chef's features, and he again struggled to stand. A slight head-movement from Tsume and his bonds fell away, and he brushed himself off with the air of one with other places to go.
If the gang leader was amused, he didn't show it. "What's your name?
The other looked up. "Er- Hige."
He stared at Tsume, as though he had only really just seen him, wary and tense all of a sudden. "Can I go now, or do I gotta be killed 'coz I know where your place is?"
A muscle tightened in the taller man's jaw, and he considered, briefly, allowing his gang to have some fun with this chef – his talent was unusual, granted, but not so much as to override his sheer maddening personality – but something old and forgotten stirred and told him to spare him, just this once.
"Go." He nodded, minutely. The crowd parted like the red sea. "But if you say a single word, or if I see you again, you'll regret it."
Hige couldn't leave fast enough, scurrying out of the door like a dog with its tail tucked firmly between its legs.
His gang was staring at him. Tsume ignored them. "Suri, Gulo – watch him. You know the drill – if he so much as opens his mouth about us, kill him then report back, got that?"
The two slight, quiet individuals, one sandy-blonde and the other black-brunette, nodded in unison and disappeared.
He walked out of the room, then once he was out of earshot, leant against the ragged wall and swore softly, running a hand through his hair and sighing as loud as he dared.
He couldn't keep this up for much longer.
A/N: You've heard of the jingle,
You should now know what to do -
Now that I've written and you've read,
Please read and review!