::Back so soon? Yes! I am back. I decided since I'm knocking out chapters so quickly I should update a little faster (I've actually got up to chapter 9 written already...)

I know that alot of you aren't reviewing and frankly it sucks, but I'm going to write this anyway because I don't care anymore. I spent alot of time on this story, I intend on finishing it and posting it, and if you can't spare a few seconds from your day to review a chapter that I spent days writing, then it's not even worth my aggravation to ask for them any more. I shouldn't have to beg.

For those of you who actually read this, thank you for even looking at it. I guess that's all I should hope for anyway.::

Chapter 6

Mae examined the group of rough looking people that had managed to surround her and Vincent. They were all dressed in various bland colored rags and looked like showering was reserved for special holidays; the kind that only came once a year. A few of them had knives, which they were proudly swinging around, and some of the more resourceful ones had guns, which happened to be pointing at her and the silent stoic man beside her. Eight stood between them and escape. Lovely.

"Hey there sweetie, got any extra change on ya?" One of the less ragged looking men stepped forward. He was rather tall, but willowy looking; thin and underfed. These people certainly lacked, but that did not make her feel any better about the method they were using to make up for that lack.

Mae did not see a weapon on the tall man, though she was sure that he was armed in one way or the other. He would be a fool not to be. Mae rested her hand on the hilt of her sword, rubbing her thumb over the smooth polished moon stone embedded in the hilt, willing herself to stay calm, cool and collected. She smiled to herself when she saw it sparkle in the dim light.

"Get lost," she said nonchalantly. The man who had stepped forward, Probably the leader… she thought, laughed and pulled out a rusty Magnum and pressed it against her forehead.

"I think you and your friend should hand over your money, and," he said eyeing up Mae's katana, "that cute little sword you have there."

Vincent twitched. He had grabbed for his gun the moment he'd sensed trouble and now had it aimed at the man, hidden under the folds of his cloak. Fear was the only thing holding him back from shooting the man outright. God damn-it woman! What are you thinking? Grinding his teeth together, Vincent itched to pull the trigger. He prayed to god that the bastard pointing the gun at her didn't pull the trigger as he went down.

Desperate, he tried to gain eye contact with Mae to let her know, but she was intent on staring down the man in front of her.

"Yeah well you're out of luck, because I'm broke and I'd sooner die then give you my katana." Mae was standing as tall as she could make herself, staring the man down and daring him with her mind to lower that gun just once. One second would be all she needed to remove his hand from his arm. Or his head from his shoulders.

The man laughed and grabbed the hilt of her katana, rubbing himself suggestively against her. Mae's lips curled in disgust and she resisted the urge to kick him in the balls. She didn't want that gun going off a tad early.

Vincent felt rage and a jealous urge to tear the man limb from limb. Mae was apparently thinking along similar lines.

"Take your fucking hands off me you prick or I'll rip off you arms and shove them up you ass." She knew she was taking a chance and gambling her life, but at the moment she didn't care. No one, no one. Touched her sword.

"Oh really…?" The man tightened his finger on the trigger. A bolt of fear shot up Mae's spine, but she kept her face straight.

Vincent wasn't so willing to put Mae's life in danger as she was, not to mention the infectious emotions running through his veins already had him riled up. Taking a deep breath, he threw back his cape and pressed the barrel of his gun against the ruffian's temple, silently cursing Mae for her recklessness.

"Drop you gun," Vincent growled. The man jumped as the cold triple barrel came into contact with his head, almost pulling the trigger. Mae felt a sickening lurch in her stomach. That could have been the end of her.

Swallowing hard, the man nervously glanced at Cerberus and almost soiled himself. Cerberus was definitely a formidable looking weapon; all silver, sleek and deadly. Vincent bared his teeth and snarled at the man. "I said… Drop. Your. Gun." The man whimpered and dropped the Magnum. Mae picked it up and tucked it in her boot.

"Thanks," she said with a wicked smile. Inside she was breathing a big sigh of relief. Vincent grabbed the man with his clawed hand and turned him around to face the antsy group of street scavengers. He probably used a little more force then necessary, but fear and adrenaline can do that to you.

"Tell them to leave," he said with a calm he didn't possess. The man, now perspiring heavily and shaking, was barely able to open his mouth. His first attempt to talk came out as a halfhearted whimpering plea. Vincent jerked hard on his collar, nearly strangling the man and repeated his order.

"Ya – y – you heard the man! L – leave!" The tattered group looked around at each other shifting anxiously, unsure.

Vincent dug the barrel of his gun into the guy's forehead.

"Leave!" he squeaked. One by one they left, shooting menacing glances over their shoulder. Vincent threw the man to the side not waiting for him to scramble away before roughly grabbing Mae's arm.

"Hey!" The iron grip on her arm tightened. Mae tried to pull away and Vincent turned and growled at her.

Put off, she grabbed his arm, dug her nails in and began to struggle furiously.

"Take your fucking hand off me!" Vincent ignored her. "Who the fuck do you think you are! Let GO!" Mae twisted and kicked and scratched until Vincent snapped. With inhuman strength he threw her against a brick wall, holding both her arms to her side, effectively pinning her there.

"What the hell were you thinking back there?" he hissed. Mae felt her anger draining away in the face of his. His normally red brown eyes were like slits of molten lava, their fiery depths burning her from the inside out. She cringed and Vincent bared his teeth, fangs beginning to show.

Mae felt her cheeks grow warm and prayed she didn't look as upset and flustered as she did. "I… I don't know what you're talking about…" she stated meekly. Vincent curled his metal claws into a fist and punched the wall in an enraged fluster.

"Liar! You were practically begging him to pull that trigger!" Mae felt the wall break open next to her as the gold claw slammed into it, debris flying at her. She used it as an excuse to flinch without giving away her unease. Vincent's rage was coming off of him in waves of heat making her feel foolish and small… weak.

She couldn't help the way she felt, so close to him as she was, and she hated herself for her stupidity and stupid female emotions. The electric shocks she felt running up her spine were wrong. Wrong and she knew it. Knew even as she cowered from his anger that the pleasure she was getting from him being so close to her was wrong. And she hated herself for it.

This man, who's fury should have done nothing but fuel her own, only made her feel like a scorned child. Why? Why did it even affect her? She had no feelings for him! She barely even knew him. Yet the pain budding in her chest and the butterflies in her stomach would not be denied.

So maybe she had… feelings for him. Nothing serious. Not love. Maybe just a little crush. Yes that's it. A childish little crush. That she could handle. That she could throw away, easily. Just stupid emotions caused from lack of close human interaction for a long time. Anything else would be dangerous and Mae didn't need any more dangers in her life, she had quite enough of them thank you.

Vincent felt his anger grow as he watched Mae's attention drift inwards. He pushed closer until his face was inches from hers. That got her attention.

Their eyes locked and Vincent felt a fleeting stab of pain in his chest as he recognized the emotion in her eyes. Fear. She was afraid of him. And… something else. He pushed the pain aside, fear was what he had been going for. After all she had made him feel it, why not give her a healthy does of it as well. It was only fair. Make her feel the fear of losing something, something totally out of her control.

Vincent allowed himself to bask in her fear until something else caught his attention. Her chest, rising and falling in short rapid breaths, was rubbing against him, and the pleasure from that contact was both perversely wrong and distracting, yet he could not bring himself to move away.

"Why Mae?" he said, surprised to hear his voice sounding husky and softer then he had intended.

Her eyes widened in an emotion he could not place. God the jumble of them crashing together like the waves of an ocean in a storm was giving him a headache. They were turbulent, lighting up her aqua eyes, so delicately lined with long black lashes. He wished they would slow down and let him read them and interpret them. He got his wish.

They all stopped, and his eyes narrowed in response. Something cold slithered its way into her gaze and Vincent felt what could only be described as a bucket of ice water get thrown over his entire being. He found that his limbs had gone numb and refused to move. His whole body was screaming at him to get the hell out of Dodge.

Something… dead, inhuman, haunted, slithered behind her eyes, and it was all he could do to lean back a few centimeters, apprehension in his gut.

"You…" her voice was empty, cold. "You have no clue do you…" Something hard slammed into Vincent's body and he flew back into the solid wall of the building behind him. It gave way crumbling about him, caving in and trapping his weakened body.

He felt a sharp pressure in his head and his vision was glazed over. Through the blackening haze he watched Mae's retreating form.

Something warm and slick was running down his face, and he could taste blood. Fuck… Vincent couldn't remember a time when he'd cursed this much.

Red XIII was hot on the trail of Vincent and Mae when he was rammed into by someone in one hell of a rush. They tripped over him and flew into the unforgiving pavement slabs that marked the sidewalk.

Thankfully Red had been crouched down to begin with. The collusion did nothing but wind him. He picked himself up and looked at the person lying on the ground, moaning quietly in pain and nursing scraped elbows. Red's eyes widened in surprise and his pupils dilated in a mixture of fear and fury.

It was Mae. In the fall her shirt had ridden up her body and a in the light a decent sized tattoo was visible on the small of her back. Only, it wasn't a tattoo.

Mae, dazed, pulled down her shirt, wincing as the movement irritated the raw skin on her elbows.

"You're cursed…" Red said in astonishment. Hatred quickly boiled up and over the shock he felt and he roared his outrage. "You're cursed and didn't tell us!"

Mae jerked to her feet, twisting in place setting her hand on her precious katana.

"You filthy…" Red snarled and charged her.

Mae leapt out of the way, swinging her sword more to fend him off then actually hit him.

She could still feel the residual taint in her body from her temporary loss of control. Always there, just beneath the surface, she could feel it. Crawling under her skin. She shivered, resisting the urge to puke. She could smell the blood on her hands. "You don't understand…" her voice wavered and she swayed on her feet. Red didn't notice.

"That's how he's able to find you. That thing on your back…" He hesitated. Something akin to fear crawled into his stomach. "Where's Vincent…"

"…" The fear doubled.

"What did you do to him?" he said in a dangerously low voice. When no answer was forthcoming Red scented her, making sure he could find her again before he bolted down the street. Vincent's scent trail led him into a rather run-down part of town and to what looked like the scene of a small earth quake.

A small tattered red piece of cloth moved weakly in the vile air of the deserted alley. "Vincent!" Red ran over and started to dig out the unconscious gunman. He moved a rather large hunk of cement and a soft moan and choking cough rang out in the dank alley way.

Red shook his head despondently. He was in sorry shape. There was a nasty cut and bruise on his right temple and various scrapes and bruises all over his chest. The worst was the two large gashes that had torn the front of his shirt off. Red cursed his inability to use a phone and sent a flare up using his fire materia.

"Hurry…"

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