XIX - Dust
The cab stopped at the corner of a street and told them they would have to walk from there. He didn't dare go into the ghost quarter of the city, nobody did – not even the police. As he warned them before, he didn't stop the engine and was already in a rush towards the center of the city the moment the two were out of the car. The Dragon repeated the plate number several times in his mind.
The two began walking, the Dragon holding his daughter close. He had an arm around her shoulders and his eyes at every shadow that might have moved or watched them from a distance. It was quiet, no sign of a running engine, so they walked on the middle of the street. There was shattered glass, needles, and all kind of garbage on the sidewalks, so it was safer that way. They were both barefoot, Caterina obviously more tired than her father and shivering at the slightest breeze.
"Well, well. Who do we have here?" a raspy voice called from the shadows as he flipped a gun in one hand and hid the other. "Lookin' for somethin'?"
"Someone," the Dragon corrected him, "And you will take us there."
"My, my! Confident, aren't we? What's in it for me, Scar?" the unnamed man asked on a mocking tone, using the nickname to further humiliate the Dragon.
"Years to your miserable life," was his only reply. Leaving Caterina on her own in a rather large open space, the father approached the raspy-voiced man, ready to take out his anger on him.
"Hey, wait a sec… Who are ya?" he asked once he could see just how many scars the Asian-looking man had.
"I have business with your boss, prick. Take me there, now."
"My boss happens to be out of town."
"Pathetic. The next one in line then, his right hand," the Dragon demanded.
"Che. Who the hell are you, man?"
"Someone who has business to discuss with King."
"You got anythin' to sell, or wha'?" the skinny man continued, slowly leaning back on his left foot as the Dragon continued to approach him. Caterina had her arms wrapped around herself, kept awake by a chilly draft. She followed her father, keeping a safe distance from him as well.
"I will be offering him something, that you've guessed correctly. The details, however…" the man looked on both sides, spotting more dark figures hiding in the shadows, "…are confidential."
"Woah, man! Do I get bonus points, or what?" the skinny one began grinning uncomfortably.
"I am tired of repeating myself."
Just then, another stepped out of the shadows and neared them. "Follow me," he said in a plain and unemotional voice, sounding more like a robot than a living being. Tall and bald, Caterina couldn't help but stare in disgust at his disproportioned body. His muscles were unnatural, and from behind it was difficult to tell where his shoulders and neck were. He looked like a mountain of tattooed flesh.
The skinny man walked behind them, so the father found himself obligated to pull his daughter closer. He hated that he had to drag her through the messy side of his life, but was determined not to let it affect her in any serious way.
A few streets away, the tall man gestured for the Dragon and the girl to walk down a flight of stairs in the basement of an apparently abandoned building. They passed some bodyguards, some prostitutes, and a few dogs. None looked like they were going to survive for much longer. Yet, Caterina found it surprisingly easy to ignore their suffering. She was more disturbed by the thick air and the repulsing scents of cheap perfume, sweat, smoke, alcohol and possibly something else. Her father noticed, relieved that she showed no sign of an upcoming revolt.
As they eventually reached the room of the King, they found a man about half the age of the Dragon, surrounded by tired and overused prostitutes, with a few bottles around him and a dog at his feet. He stood up with a smirk when he saw his guests.
"Big brother! I wasn't expecting you anytime soon!" he laughed in fluent Italian. "And so salted."
The joke passed as the Dragon threw him a weak and tired smirk in return. "Neither was I."
"What happened, my man? How are you like this? And who is this?" the King asked, nodding his head towards Caterina.
"That is a story for another time." Suddenly, the Dragon became serious and the King gestured that they'd be left alone. "I have come to gather your gratitude."
"What can I do for you?"
The man in a red suit gestured towards a bar across the room, but the Dragon shook his head. In the mean time, the dog had circled both of the intruders, taking in their scent and features. Caterina lowered her hand and let the animal sniff it, then bent down to pet it once she felt its tongue over her knuckles.
"First, my girl and I will need the basics. Clothes, some money, and guns. Protection for a few days will be very appreciated, but that depends on your situation."
"Count on me, my friend. Everything I have, you have." The man looked left, then right. "I'd still be pocketing tourists without you, I owe you my life!"
"I'm tired." Caterina stood and looked at both of the two men, demanding their attention.
"Is she your…?" the King asked his well-doer and wiggled his thin brows.
"No. But we will share the same room."
"Want anything to eat, then?" the man offered.
"No, thank you." Caterina answered instead, but the Dragon didn't seem concerned. "I want to see our room."
The King began laughing. "I like her," he said as he began walking through another door and down a corridor with many closed doors on each side. "Reminds me of Sia. Ah, such times! Have you heard anything of her?"
"Who is Sia?" Caterina asked, unaware of her mother's nickname.
"Someone unimportant. We didn't keep in touch," the Dragon answered them both just as the King opened the door to a rather large room with the ceiling low. It was rather clean, except for some mold in the corners and the dust in the air. Dust was everywhere in the underground. It seemed to be breathed out by the old walls of the structure.
"I wonder if she's alive. I really liked her. Charismatic, lively, daring – always bubbling, like a can of soda. Girls 'round here are so lifeless…" The King sighed. "Is this alright?" he asked, stepping aside and letting Caterina enter the room first.
A king-sized bed was placed in the middle. There were an old closet and a low table in a corner, and a door to the bathroom. The wallpaper was old and out of fashion, in gold and pink stripes of flowers. The dark wooden floor was scratched and ugly. The green covers of the bed looked washed-out and overly used. Yet, all in all, the room looked comfortable. There was a small cactus in a pot on the table, near the heater – round and spiky, it almost looked fat. It was thriving in the warm and still air of the room. Up, near the ceiling, there were two small windows obscured by dust.
"It will be fine." Caterina knew it was neither the time or place for being picky or demanding. It was a room, large enough for two people, warm, and with its own bathroom. She went and sat on the bed. It was surprisingly comfortable – much like a square pillow, really. It may give her some bad posture pains, but she could always tell herself it was a side-effect from the swimming marathon. And who wouldn't believe her? Only a miracle would make her move normally tomorrow morning. But at the moment, none of it mattered.
In the mean time, obeying the orders he received through the phone, Vincent had mailed the memory card and SIM to an address across the Pacific Ocean, all the way to the infamous LA. In fact, that would be his destination as well – only the information was requested earlier. His flight was in another hour.
Because he wasn't yet suspected of anything, Vincent dared to use his real ID and passport. Before stepping into the airport though, he made sure to check the local and national news sites, the Japanese ones and a few printed papers. No word was written about him. The most he found was that the media was starting to notice Anastasia's absence. Well, they just had to get used to it. The WiFi was probably terribly weak at the bottom of the sea!
The old man had to control himself hard in order to avoid laughing out loud at his own jokes. Why would the blonde be special in the first place? She was just another prostitute who happened to become a mother and had the fortune – or misfortune? – to marry a wealthy man.
His skin began to crawl from simply thinking of the Dragon's fortune. If he could get as much as a quarter of it, he could live anywhere in the world for another century! But for now, he had to buy himself a coffee because the lack of sleep was starting to catch up with him.
In China, the Dragon began gathering information with the help of his former protégé, the King. He knew there would be few those to refuse him after he had helped them raise in the world of business and death. Because, in truth, these were the only two certainties for him – money and death.
"But what exactly did he do, mm? I don't remember seeing you this determined in a looong, long time, big brother."
The Dragon sighed, leaning against the back of the couch. "For someone who calls himself a 'king', you still have enough to learn… Your information web is not good enough. Which is also reassuring, but not from your perspective."
Sitting across from him on a different couch, the King smirked and shook his head. "I can't argue with that. Let's play a game, then. What do you say? I bet one thousand on every answer. I'm right? You pay. I'm wrong? I pay."
After a moment of thought, the Dragon raised the corner of his mouth in agreement. It was neither a smirk or a smile, but something in between… less threatening than usual. He called one of the guards with a gesture of his hand and asked him to find the driver of a certain taxi and pay him. After that, he turned his eyes on the King.
"Always keeping your word…" the King noticed, "I wouldn't have. He's just a cab driver, what could he do to ask for the money? What he did was illegal in the first place. He had no Ace up his sleeve."
"Perhaps. But a woman will spend more on her underwear. It's a small sum, unimportant."
The other shook his head, laughing silently. In a move, he threw ten marbles on the table in between them and sent five towards the Dragon, keeping the other five on his edge.
"First, I think it's something personal, am I right?" the King asked. After a moment, the Dragon sent one marble to the other side. "Is this man an associate of yours?"
After a good start, the younger man's confidence began to crack. "No," the Dragon answered shortly and the other had to send his sixth marble back to the Dragon.
"Think carefully. Remember what I taught you."
This time, the King waited for another minute before asking his question. "Does he owe you anything?" Once the Dragon shook his head, the King had to send another marble over.
"I don't get it… If it's not money, but it's personal… No, you said you didn't do business… Did he serve you in any way?"
"What do you think?" the Dragon asked in all seriousness.
Frowning, the King leaned forward and set his finger over another one of his marbles. The Dragon looked relaxed, amused – in control of the game. Yet, he sent another marble over to his former protégé.
"A servant?!" the younger man exclaimed. "Anyone new, then?"
"Send it over," the Dragon answered. "You don't focus, I don't like that."
"An old servant, someone trusted, right?" the King corrected himself, earning the right to keep all of his marbles. "Has he betrayed you in some way?"
The Dragon sent another marble over. The King watched it rolling, looking at the little irregular vines of color, reminding him of colored smoke in a ball. Just then, Caterina walked in wearing a pair of black jeans and a white tank top. She sat beside her father and curled her legs on the couch, beside her.
"What's this?" she asked.
"A game our host has proposed," the Dragon answered her.
"I am curious of his motives. Do you know?" the King asked Caterina as a joke.
"Well, I have my… theory about it, but no, I don't know anything for certain," the girl answered.
"You heard her." The Dragon began to smirk as he received another marble.
"Does this count as well?!" the younger man asked, frowning in disbelief. Yet, the Dragon's silence made him roll yet another marble on the other side. Now he had six to win over in order to win.
"Ah, I see now. I think I'll watch." Caterina chuckled. "But I'm hungry. Is there any food around here?"
"My fried brain, in a couple of minutes…" the King joked.
"I'm afraid even I need more than smoke to live," Caterina said in an innocent voice sounding more her age for a moment, yet insulting the other at the same time.
"What do you want, Kitten?" the King asked, sounding both annoyed and ignorant towards her.
"Some fried eggs would do. A phone, too."
"Let's not abuse our host's generosity," her father warned her just as the King began glaring. There was a very fine line between humor and insults, which Caterina was nowhere close to being allowed to ignore.
"Fine." With a sigh, she leaned back in her seat beside her father and let her hands slip between her thighs. Light's answers would have been so annoying, but so very welcomed at such a time… She hated the tense atmosphere and how she had to shut up in front of others. Although she understood the danger of a loose tongue and a sharp mind of a young woman in her situation, she still hated it from her very core.
"She resembles Sia more than I would've liked…" the King began, addressing his well-doer, "Were you lying when you said these two don't know each other? Kitten and Sia…"
Caterina would have expected her father to gain another marble, but instead, he leaned forward and sent it rolling fast to the other side. The girl's eyes widen in surprise.
"Are they related?" was the next question; that made the auburn-haired girl turn towards her father and stare at him in shock. Another affirmative answer rolled to the other side.
Taking a moment to think, the King leaned back and held his chin. He was glaring at Caterina intently.
"Did Sia have a kid when she disappeared from the bar?"
That moment, Caterina began to understand. The pieces of the puzzle were falling into place and she glared at the King equally cold. At the same time, another marble crossed the table, leaving the Dragon with the equivalent of three thousand dollars.
At the same time, in Taiwan, Vincent was just finding his seat in the plane. Because of his age, he was allowed among the first, spared of the madness of tens and tens of people trying to find their seats, figure out how the belt worked, families arguing about which child should sit by the window and possibly some toe-stepping and rib-elbowing.
In another few minutes, he would be sipping his tea among the clouds, crossing the ocean on his way to a life of luxury and relaxation. The old man turned off his cell phones and leaned back in his seat. As soon as everyone had occupied their seats, one of the air hostesses approached him and made sure he was alright. He asked for a pill, something for the heart and blood pressure – just in case the excitement of his wildest dreams happened to get the best of him. He also asked for assistance during the entire flight. Not that he needed anything in particular, but young, smiling women flocking around could make him feel a little younger.
The plane moved around for a few long and boring minutes. Beside him, there were a teenage girl sitting by the window and a middle-aged man. The girl was reading a paperback book as thick as her small palms, holding it with care as if it was a treasure. A rare sight, indeed. She had earphones shoved in her ears, but Vincent couldn't hear the buzzing of her music. Either these were high quality earphones, or she didn't abuse the volume like most youngsters did.
Beside him, the man had just ended a phone call and leaned back with a sigh, holding the red button on his phone. The device sang a short melody, displayed the animation of its creator, then its screen went completely black and the light of the keys went out. The man was obviously agitated, mindlessly playing with his fingers and rubbing his hands together, much like a child about to be scolded by the school principle.
"Excuse me…" the man began. Out of curiosity and slightly annoyed, Vincent turned his head towards him and raised his eyebrows.
"Yes…?"
"Have you… done this before? Flying, I mean… How is it when… you know, it… takes off?"
With a sigh, Vincent closed his eyes for a little bit. "It's nothing to worry about. Loud, but perfectly safe. I've researched this company before, actually, and I can guarantee they are the safest in this side of the world."
"Really?" Although Vincent thought these to be mere facts, the other seemed impressed. "I hope it will be alright… You know, this is my first time flying. I've always preferred going by train, or bus, or even walking. I've walked almost all of Asia in the past twenty years."
Just as Vincent was getting tired of his companion's chit-chat, the engines were turned on. The girl beside him closed the book without using any bookmark and looked outside, while the man to his right closed his eyes and began mumbling prayers. Vincent just sighed, leaning in his chair and making sure he had his seat belt tight enough around his waist. When the girl put the book on her lap, the old man glanced over to look at the title. The Mummy, by Anne Rice. He had heard of that American writer before, but preferred a different kind of literature, and a different kind of story-telling. Yet, he could tell that Anne Rice knew how to make a young mind flexible and curious, two very important traits that few teenagers possessed.
In another few seconds, they could all feel the plane taking off. Vincent couldn't hide a smile… It was a wonderful feeling, to know you were supported only by air, that you owed this privilege to centuries of dreams and ambitions, as well as centuries of funding and savings. Because, isn't it? It's always the rich that make things happen. Without their money, no artist or scientist or researcher or explorer could have ever put any of their ideas into practice.
Vincent closed his eyes and tried to pretend he was asleep. Perhaps that way, the one next to him would leave him alone with the story of his useless life. And surprisingly, the old man did seem to be dozing off for a little bit. He woke when his tea was being served, along with the apple juice the girl at his left ordered. The other man was off, probably using the restroom. Vincent took the apple juice cup from the air hostess and gave the girl a weak smile.
Taking off her earphones and closing the book again, she accepted the drink and returned his smile.
"Thank you. I'm sorry, I didn't hear you if you've said anything, sir."
Vincent felt his smile growing. She addressed him by 'sir'? Was this still possible from someone in her generation? The girl had to be roughly the same age as Caterina, perhaps a few years younger. "I did not."
Sipping her juice, the teenager nodded. Soon, they were both back at what they were doing before. The girl began reading and Vincent was looking at the ass of the air hostess bending over someone to help them with something… He couldn't see what was going on, but he couldn't care less. The only thing that interested him was that young ass so well shaped in that tight blue skirt.
But all of a sudden, people began to freak out and panic. It seemed from one of the engines there could be seen dark smoke coming out. Vincent turned towards the other row of small windows and saw the dark cape of death surrounding the plane.
In the mean time, the Dragon was just winning the game against his former protégé. Caterina was right by his side, watching the marbles crossing from one side of the table to the other. Each little marble was symbolic for a thousand dollars.
"Last question, perhaps?" the Dragon asked him as a tease.
The King swallowed his saliva and glared at his last marble. His last chance to turn the table… "Your old servant had not only stolen information and money from her," he began, looking towards Caterina, "but from yourself as well, while you allowed him all this… in order to find out who he works for, right?"
The Dragon remained still for a long moment of tension, then set his finger on one of his nine marbles. He rolled it forward, then back again. Forward… Backwards… Forward…
"Am I right?" the King asked again, almost biting the air as he did. His heart was skipping beats with every move of that ninth marble, as he held his last one in his hand like a precious jewel. To him, this one last marble was worth ten thousands.
"You are… not." The Dragon said after another long moment of awkward silence.
The King threw his marble on the table, growled and threw himself back on his couch – so hard he was a few centimeters away from falling over. Caterina smirked in delight, watching the man in all his frustration. She leaned on her father's side.
"But why?! What was the answer?" the man asked when he recovered his self control.
"I let him do all that and more because I do not operate without certainties, or evidences. I know who he works for. I know what he's done and what he is planning to do. I knew for a long time." The Dragon's face showed the sweetness of victory and the calm of a calculated man who had to learn from experience how to deal with both a win and a lost.
"But-! It makes no sense! You knew he stole from you, you knew he spied on you, but you did nothing to stop him!" The King was about to pull out his hair at the absurdity of this. "I lost ten thousand on nonsense!"
"It makes perfect sense when you follow my values. Calm down and think, you idiot," he ordered. "Rumors and suspicions are hypothesis. Until evidences are gathered, hypothesis can be as true as they can be false, at the same time. Logically speaking, there is no way to determine the truth value of a hypothesis without proof."
"…You are insane." The King stared at the Dragon in pure shock. "What are you going to do now?" he asked, barely able to speak. The King had wiped out of existence an entire quarter for much less, but his former well-doer seemed almost foolish in how much he had allowed that one traitor.
In the city of angels, the serial killer admired by the Dragon had left another crime scene puzzle to be solved. A twenty-eight year old bank worker was found mutilated – she was nicknamed Backyard Bottomslash.
Just a few streets away, a dealer was just making his way towards the meeting place. He was expecting someone from Taiwan, who had to take a cab from the airport to the specified address. He should have received it as soon as he turned his cell phone back on – in other words, as soon as the plane had landed.
The man hid his eyes behind a pair of round glasses and shaded his long face with a large hat. He looked at the watch on his wrist – a brilliant fake – and scanned the crossroads for anyone similar to the description he had received. He was waiting for an European man, tall, slender, around seventy, alone and without any luggage, taking off from a cab, wearing a dark suit.
"…the hell is he," he mumbled to himself. The man had others to meet, he didn't have the entire evening to himself. And even if he did! That old man was supposed to be there half an hour ago. It was getting dark and the dealer had to meet someone halfway across LA to deliver some guns. Being late could mean either less money in the happiest case, or less days to live in the worst – or none, to be more precise. Feeling the fear and panic creeping up his spine, the man took out a rolled cigarette and sucked the smoke like his life depended on it. He needed it to feel calm and normal – it was no longer about getting high. No… it was so he could think like a normal person.
What the dealer didn't know was that the old man was not going to show. Not that evening, not any other evening. His boss would be displeased, to say the least. When he realized it, the dealer had already smoked his joint and was on his way to the parking lot where he had to meet with his next client.
Back at the King's base, one of those hired by his guest was returning to report.
"Master, with your permission…" he began, waiting for the Dragon to give him a hint. The man nodded, so the report continued. "The target had been hit at 11:23, as ordered. The plane had been on fire before falling into the Pacific. We have searched the area and we have ten survivors."
The Dragon remained silent for another moment. "Anything else?"
"No, master."
"Good… I want the body or the remains of the target."
With a silent nod, the informant stood and made his way outside. The King looked after him. "Do you trust him?"
"I have more than one means of information. They have no reason or possibility to lie," the Dragon answered with confidence.
"So is V. really…?" Caterina asked her father.
"Hopefully. We shall see. His connections are next. In the mean time, you should think of the new phone you want, my dear." For a moment, he smiled towards her. "You shall receive it in a few days, along with the information the prick had stolen from us. I would advise you not to use the SIM though…"
That moment, Caterina wrapped her thin arms around her father's strong shoulders and pressed her soft lips to his rough cheek. The King noticed… still confused about certain aspects, like what was their relationship or how did they end up together. From what he could recall, Sia had disappeared from everyone's sight a few months before the Dragon decided to move onto more serious business. How did Sia's girl end up with the Dragon?
"Anything else you'd like?" the Dragon asked her.
"I think you know," the auburn-haired girl answered. By that, she meant the life from before – an apartment at the top floor of the tallest hotel in Tokyo, room service, late night talks, organic juice, way more clothes than she could possibly wear, and all the other ways in which he spoilt her ever since she could remember.
Though, to the King, it sounded like her asking for something entirely different.
"And… You know, it's getting rather Dark…" she mumbled. Of course, to anyone else this made no sense, but her father understood.
"That will have to wait until everything returns to how it was before. I think you know that."
"Yes, of course… But you know I hate waiting."
"Right…" the King said, standing up from his seat. He went to take another bottle from the bar and poured himself another glass. "You know, I've been wondering… What is your status exactly, Kitten?"
The Dragon looked at his daughter, who was watching the King intently. It was her turn to accept the challenge and have a change of words with the man. Her father wanted her to win, but at the same time, he wanted to see her winning on her own. What greater satisfaction could he have from his only child than to see her beating one of those he shaped in his own image?
Author's Notes:
Chapter proofread by my favorite beta, Eat4Fun. Also, I'm glad to hear from you, Jupiter's Bull.
I was having a difficult time trying to find a good LightxOC story that was believable and kept canon characters accurate, so I decided to write this one. If I do finish it, I may spare one chapter for notes and such, kind of like the "How to Read" volume. This part is almost over, and it will end with a big boom. After that, we'll finally reach the canon story from the anime. Honestly, I can't wait to write for L~ I hope I'm not the only one crazed for both Light and L, without necessarily shipping them.
