"So you say you can help me?" a young man whispered. His hair was golden, falling about his features, his ivory skin tainted lightly by dried blood, his frame utterly too skinny for his height, but he didn't seem to mind. What he did mind was that his little sister was laying dead at his feet, bloody and bared, broken. The woman infront of him peered down at the girl, no older then fifteen and in her prime. She tilted her head with what seemed like sympathy though her eyes flashed with bitter amusement. She was wearing a large black cloak, smudging her figure out perfectly and giving her the appearance of a street woman. "I can help you if you believe in me," the woman replied matter-of-factly, eyeing the fallen child more. The young man picked up the girl at his feet and looked to the woman. "I'm---" he began but was cut off by a wave of the woman's hand. "I don't need to know your name," she replied smugly, and turned her back to him, starting to walk away. She motioned for him to follow her.
"Who are you?" he asked, following in silence. The woman smiled slightly under her hood, a few strands of dark hair curling about over her face, falling slightly over the bridge of her nose. "They call me Barbelo," she replied still, stopping infront of a large warehouse, and she stepped back from the door. "The man who did this to your sister is inside this building. He's unarmed. If you wish, I can help you," she whispered, smiling in a somewhat twisted form of a grin. The man's breathing faulted then he nodded to her. She grinned a little bit, pulling her hood down so her long curly hair twisted about her back under her cloak, some visable now, hanging around her face, giving her an enchanted look. "What do you want me to do?" he asked, eyes starting to take on a glazed appearance as he stared deeply into her dark ones. She smiled and put a finger against his lips. "Just let me handle it..." she purred softly, smiling wickedly.
The warehouse door swung open with a quick whistle, as the wind pattered against the walls in a quick movement. The boy walked into the warehouse, his eyes still glazed and his face distant. His eyes sharply fell into focus as he spotted what appeared to be a man of around thirty years, sprawled out on a haystack in the bitter wonderland of sleep. He glared slightly, his eyes glazed once more yet focused, his attention whirling to a shovel against the wall. He slowly approached it, his eyes never leaving their target. He picked up the shovel and padded across the floor in silence.
The man stirred under the gaze of the other and his eyes widened with shock. "I wonder.." the other man whispered, circling him like a lion, "how you would look covered in blood?" He smiled a bit, a sly grin, and lifted the shovel, it's base of silver shimmering in the light, while the handle seemed to fit perfectly in his grasp. Then, without warning, he plunged it through the others chest in a quick motion. As blood seeped into his clothes, the man whose stomach was torn open began to start praying, eyes closed as he muttered a few prayers of forgiveness, bleeding all over the haystack he once lay on. He other leaned over him, and looked him straight in the eye. "Do you think he hears you, and will answer your prayers? Do you think he cares?" he asked calmly, tracing a bit of blood onto the dying man's lips. "He doesn't care for his own children, why should he care about you?"
Outside, Barbelo closed her eyes and smiled, eyeing the dried grass outside the warehouse. "Why indeed," she smiled deeper, proud of her work as she backed away from the warehouse. Her attention fell on a can near her, and she tiled her head with amusement. "Gasoline," she purred happily, snatching it into her hand. Without warning she slung it all over the front of the building, then backed up some, hand reaching into the cloak's pocket to pull out a shimmering silver lighter. "Nothing like a big bang for the finale, right boys?" she heard herself whisper, then she clicked open the lighter, the orange flame shimmering a bit, and tossed it into the gasoline, sparking a huge fire. She turned her back to it and walked away, the scene behind her exploding only moments later. "Now.." she stopped and turned around. "You can be with your sister."
Authors comments: Oh god, look at that, Maduin wrote yet another depressing and boring fic with a freakish twist, ph33r all that is humor, for it's my mortal enemy ~.~ someone kick me. Comments? Feedback? I think this will end up being a multi-parter too T__T