Strange Wind
by Karu Leonnese
Prologue: Sorrow, the Emo Ghost
Notes: Gift ficceh for Ash. She wanted some Cobra-shipping. My first time actually working with these guys, and my lack of gaming skills haven't led meh to many opportunities to see them. So...OOC may happen.
Timeline is right after The Sorrow's death.
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It should be noted, in the vast majority of given situations, that as soon as you adapt to change, something else is guarranteed to change once more. Sometimes this is a good thing, a reward to your ability to adapt. Others, it's merely Fate pushing you into an oncoming truck after you worked so hard to cross the street.
The Fear wasn't exactly clear on how to classify this particular episode in his life. But he was pretty sure he could hear tires screeching.
He'd been having a routine day. He checked his watch. Five hours. He'd been sitting in this tree for five hours. While it was true he could wait double that and not bat an eye; he'd done it before. But he was anxious to get this over with. It was annoying. The guy hadn't wandered so much as a mile within the area he was supposed to. He'd probably gotten lost, for chrissakes. he had about as much military training as a show poodle.
Begrudgingly, he hopped off the branch he'd been reclining on. Normally he'd enjoy a hunting round, but this mark wasn't going to be any fun to catch, and he wasn't worth the time anyway. Although his client would beg to differ.
His theory proved correct. The Fear found his mark entirely too easy, sitting slong a ricerbank looking thoroughly confused. He sighed. Darting around the trees with a practiced finesse, he landed finally behind the man, crossbow lodged fatally against this target's head.
The man froze instantly. Scared as he was--he could feel the man tremble beneath the bolt resting on his temple--he mustered the courage to speak clearly. "I suppose this is the end."
He smirked. "Actually, it's The Fear. But you were close."
He didn't get it, but then, he hadn't expected him to.
"I have a last request."
More trouble than it was worth... "What?"
The man slowly reached into his pocket. The Fear wasn't concerned. He could shoot this man a good number of times before he could even get the safety off any gun he may have. Instead he pulled out his wallet, offering it up to the soldier. "This has all the necessary information for a couple of well-funded accounts--"
The Fear cut him off. "I won't be bribed into sparing you. I have a contract with my client, and I will not go back on my word."
"I-I don't expect you to. I want you to make the same contract with me."
He raised an eyebrow. "Go on."
"I'll leave everything to you. Money, personal possessions--I've got no one to benifit from it. But I want you to make sure this client of yours gets the same death sentance he's given me."
There was silence for a moment, as The Fear considered the request and his mark waited. Finally the assasin relented, taking the wallet. "Alright, I accept. We have a contract."
The man slumped a little, as if making peace.
"I admire your nobility against pleading for your life. Dying bravely is something lacking in the world today. It'll be quick."
The man nodded, closing his eyes. A pull of the trigger and it was over. He fell forward into the tall grass.
One contract down, another one forged.
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His apartment was silent. Almost annoyingly so. He tossed his keys onto the table and fell onto his treadbare sofa. The problem with the jobs he got was that it took him away from his home for extended time periods. Which left him with a very limited food selection upon returning. Maybe some rice or something had survived the month he'd been gone this time. He definately didn't feel like going out, shopping or otherwise. Instead he closed his eyes, ignoring the unpleasant twisting of his stomach.
He felt his head spin a bit, signalling his decent into sleep. This seemed like a good idea, and he decided to let it overtake him.
"You're stomach's growling."
He frowned. "I know. I'm trying to ignore it, thanks."
Wait...what?
He snapped his eyes open, adrenaline causing him to bolt upright.
The Sorrow smiled cooly, standing in the doorway between his living room and kitchen.
The Fear moved his hand from where it had automatically gone to--his hostered crossbow--to run through his hair with an exhaled breath. "Jesus, man, what the hell is wrong with you?"
A normal person would have pondered how the man had gotten inside the apartment. The Fear knew better.
"I apologize. It was not my intent to startle you."
He shrugged it off, leaning back on the sofa and motioning for The Sorrow to do the same. "So what's going on? Have you been here long?"
He shook his head. "Only a week or so."
"A week?" the back-haired man gaped at him. "What's so important that you'd wait here a week to find me?"
The Sorrow hesitated to reply. Finally he decided to change the subject entirely. "You've been running a soldier-for-hire business?"
He shrugged. "Yeah. Keeps my bills paid and me in shape," he purposely followed The Sorrow's attempt to stray from the original conversation. "What've you been up to?"
The shorter man looked away. "Nothing."
God, but he was transparent. And he certainly made for an interesting storyteller. Rolling his eyes a bit, The Fear continued. "Well, you've obviously been up to something. Are you tracking everyone down, or am I just special?"
"I've been trying to contact the others," his voice sounded sadder than usual, "but you're the first one I've been able to talk to."
The Fear stood up. "Well, since you're here, d''you want to grab something to eat? Someone besides me, I can justify going out to get something,"
"N-No thank you..."
He sighed, reaching over to grab his ex-partner by the arm. "C'mon, I'm all awake now and I'm hungry. So we're going out and you're just gonna have to deal with it."
Surprised, The Sorrow let himself be dragged out teh door. He was watching the hand grasping his sleeve with a shocked intensity.
The Fear noticed this and quickly let go, suddenly feeling heat rushing to his face. "Um...just c'mon."
There was a small diner across the street, luckily still open for another hour. The two slid into opposite sides of a booth. He ordered a dinner special, but The Sorrow was adamant, refusing each offer made by his teammate with a shake of his head.
A very flustered waitress left with the order. The Fear frowned curiously. "Okay, what's wrong? You're acting weird...well, weirder than normal."
"I'm dead."
"What?"
He gestured uselessly with his hands. "I'm no longer alive. I've been killed."
The Fear waved him off. "Seriously, what's wrong?"
"I am serious. I was killed by...I was killed. I'm here only through my deep connection with the spiritual realm."
A realization dawned on him. "Aaaah...I see now. You've suddenly developed some kind of sense of humour and you've decided to come get revenge for all those pranks I pulled on you back then."
The Sorrow was not amused. "Dammit Fear, this isn't a joke!"
"Yeah, okay. So what, you're a ghost now? And you've come to me so I'll help you with your unfinished business?"
He sounded serious. But then again, he always sounded serious. "That is exactly why I'm here."
The Fear was getting annoyed. He glared at the other from across the table. "Prove it."
"Excuse me?"
"Prove it to me that you're dead. Do some ghost stuff. And no possession crap, I've seen all that before."
Frowning but undaunted, The Sorrow stood. By now the waitress had returned, carrying a plate as if she was loathe to come back to the table. The bespectacled man strode over to her, determined.
"Ma'am, I'd like a word with you..."
The waitress walked past him, not hearing.
"I'm not impressed," The Fear mumbled.
"What?" the girl set the plate on the table.
He shook his head. "I was talking to my friend."
She tried her best to smile, nervously turning back toward the kitchen. Frowning at his partner, he stepped directly in her path. She walked right through him, not even noticing.
The Fear froze mid-bite, a fork hanging out of his mouth. The Sorrow returned to his seat, eyes narrowed. "Happy now?"
"You're...you're serious, aren't you?"
"Should I attempt to beat it into you?"
He raised a hand tenatively, poking the other in the arm. Instead of passing through him as the girl had done, it pressed into the cloth of his sweater.
"How come I can touch you then?"
The Sorrow shook his head. "I'm not sure. Although you're the first person to be able to see me and converse with me. I'm sure that factors in somehow."
He chuckled. "That explains the weird looks the waitress was givin' me..."
"To a casual observer, you must look quite crazy," he agreed, a small smile sneaking up on him.
The Fear turned to his dinner, speaking a lot quieter. "Okay. So tell me everything. What happened?"
"I...I can't remember," he looked down at his hands, folded neatly on the table. "I think I was shot."
Orange eyes narrowed. "And you want me to find the bastard who did it? I'll make sure they get what they deserve."
"No!" he blurted suddenly, before calming himself. "No. That's not important."
The Fear tilted his head. "So what are you trying to do?"
Before The Sorrow could reply, the waitress returned with the check. The way she ran up, dropped off the slip of paper and skittered back to safety would lead one to believe she was the crazy one. He reached into his pocket and pulled out an unfamiliar object.
The dead man's wallet.
"Oh crap."
The Sorrow looked at it. "What?"
"I've got another case."
"Oh," he shook his head. "It doesn't matter. I'm not going anywhere, I can wait until you're done."
He found his own wallet, leaving the money on the table. "Well, if you're sure. You should come with me. I kinda feel like I should keep tabs on you."
The blue-eyed man gave him a look. "I'm the one who needs looking after?"
He laughed. "Well yeah, you're a ghost. Normal rules don't apply for you."
"What an optimistical approach to being dead..."
The Fear grinned. "That's me. So...what exactly am I supposed to help you out with?"
"I need to find...I need to see The Joy."
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Next chappeh promises better intereaction. Tell meh whatcha think!