The sun beat down on his back as he walked along slowly through the busy pavilion. Left and right he deftly maneuvered past clinging couples, women escorting their children, businessmen speaking in low tones on cellphones, and other such people who paid him no mind as they went about their daily lives. He was glad for it, glad none of them were taking notice of the tall, dark haired stranger wandering the streets, hands buried deep in the pockets of his black, silver seamed jacket, amethyst eyes staring straight ahead. Kakera raised his head to the sky, peering up at the clouds as they shifted across the sky, at times blocking the sunlight streaming down onto the crowd below.
Today seemed perfect, a day without cares, without worries. But it wasn't that at all, it haven't been that way in a long time. The laughter and brightness of heaven's gym had diminished. Guards were up more than usual, the highest fighters of the gym slept in shifts; even the chibis felt the agitation and restlessness the older bishonen gave off, often keeping quiet rather than being their normally playful selves. Things had turned somber, quiet, foreboding in a way. Which was why Kakera had to get out. He was just as wound up as the others, but he felt sitting around in the gym would do no good. He needed air to clear his mind.
Genesis.....the name turned over in his mind as Kakera began to walk again, oblivious to the shadows slinking along behind him. He frowned as he thought of the institution that had created him. They had given him life, but not what his mother, and then Amun, had given him. The leader of angels and retribution's angel had given him unconditional, undying love; to him, as long as he had that, Kakera was satisfied. It was that simple emotion which made him feel alive. Knowing who loved him was more important to the wingless angel than knowing who had given him life.
A jerk on his sleeve made the silver angel go rigid. Instinctively his right hand flashed out of his pocket, slipping into his open collar as he turned, ready to pull one of the two silver swords free from its bodily sheath. He stopped when his eyes fell upon the blonde haired child in front of him, staring up at the tall half bishonen with innocent hazel eyes.
"Excuse me mister," she asked in a crystal clear voice. "Do ya happen to have the time?" Slowly and faintly Kakera let out a sigh of relief before bending his lean frame down to the child's height as he withdrew his left hand from his jacket.
"Sure, just a sec," he replied, smiling faintly at the child. Behind the tree line, unnoticed by either Kakera or the child, a shadow spoke into a hand receiver, eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses keeping a close watch on the spectacle in front of him.
"It's....." The sound of thick soled boots rushing towards him interrupted Kakera. He turned, wondering what was the cause of the noise. Before he had a chance to so much as glimpse who it was, there was a hissing sound before fire swept cross his eyes. His vision blurred before dimming and darkening. A hiss of pain escaped through gritted teeth as Kakera staggered back a step, his hands desperately trying to relieve the pain and fire terrorizing his vision. A startled cry came to his ears before there was the sound of small footsteps running, indicating the girl had run away in fear and shock of something Kakera could not see.
"Don't rub so hard," a deep throated voice reverberated into Kakera's ear. "It'll scar those pretty eyes of yours." A sharp blow came to the back of Kakera's knees, causing him to drop to the ground. Numerous hands seized hold of his arms, wrenching them painfully behind him; yet another hand buried itself into his dark locks, tugging on the silky strands with great force. He struggled in an attempt to free at least one of his hands; if he could just release one of his blades he could put up more of a fight, sight or not. He wasn't given that chance as Kakera felt his body hoisted into the air by the hands holding him. There came a faint, stinging prick in his arm just before he was thrown into the back of a large vehicle, heavy bodies clambering in after him.
"Starting to relax yet?" the throated voice sounded again, a hint of sarcasm and a touch of a smirk hidden behind the voice. The wingless angel moved to push himself up but found his muscles would not obey him; he had been injected with a quick acting muscle relaxant. The hands came again, holding him down as a metallic snap sounded, a heavy collar fastened around his neck to prevent him from calling forth any of his attacks or powers. The nerve wrenching sound of metal scrapping against metal was heard followed by the grunt of someone attempting to lift a heavy object. Kakera wondered what that sound was….then he knew. He knew as excruciating, blinding pain swept over him just as the sickening crunch of his left ankle being shattered sounded. The pain came again in thundering rolls as the sledge hammer descended onto Kakera's right ankle, shattering the delicate bone as a tormented scream of pain and anguish left him, echoing through the moving van, bringing smirks and smiles of sheer delight to his capturers faces. The voice came to his ear again as his scream died down, his body crumpling into a heap on the cold floor.
"No need worry your little head off," the voice said, warm breath teasing Kakera's cheek, causing him to cringe. "You still get to play with men, pretty boy. Or, rather, they get to play around with you. But tattoos aren't allowed for pretty playboys like you." The sound of a switchblade being opened was heard as a hand took hold of Kakera's hair again, hauling his head and shoulders off the floor.
"What are you...
Today seemed perfect, a day without cares, without worries. But it wasn't that at all, it haven't been that way in a long time. The laughter and brightness of heaven's gym had diminished. Guards were up more than usual, the highest fighters of the gym slept in shifts; even the chibis felt the agitation and restlessness the older bishonen gave off, often keeping quiet rather than being their normally playful selves. Things had turned somber, quiet, foreboding in a way. Which was why Kakera had to get out. He was just as wound up as the others, but he felt sitting around in the gym would do no good. He needed air to clear his mind.
Genesis.....the name turned over in his mind as Kakera began to walk again, oblivious to the shadows slinking along behind him. He frowned as he thought of the institution that had created him. They had given him life, but not what his mother, and then Amun, had given him. The leader of angels and retribution's angel had given him unconditional, undying love; to him, as long as he had that, Kakera was satisfied. It was that simple emotion which made him feel alive. Knowing who loved him was more important to the wingless angel than knowing who had given him life.
A jerk on his sleeve made the silver angel go rigid. Instinctively his right hand flashed out of his pocket, slipping into his open collar as he turned, ready to pull one of the two silver swords free from its bodily sheath. He stopped when his eyes fell upon the blonde haired child in front of him, staring up at the tall half bishonen with innocent hazel eyes.
"Excuse me mister," she asked in a crystal clear voice. "Do ya happen to have the time?" Slowly and faintly Kakera let out a sigh of relief before bending his lean frame down to the child's height as he withdrew his left hand from his jacket.
"Sure, just a sec," he replied, smiling faintly at the child. Behind the tree line, unnoticed by either Kakera or the child, a shadow spoke into a hand receiver, eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses keeping a close watch on the spectacle in front of him.
"It's....." The sound of thick soled boots rushing towards him interrupted Kakera. He turned, wondering what was the cause of the noise. Before he had a chance to so much as glimpse who it was, there was a hissing sound before fire swept cross his eyes. His vision blurred before dimming and darkening. A hiss of pain escaped through gritted teeth as Kakera staggered back a step, his hands desperately trying to relieve the pain and fire terrorizing his vision. A startled cry came to his ears before there was the sound of small footsteps running, indicating the girl had run away in fear and shock of something Kakera could not see.
"Don't rub so hard," a deep throated voice reverberated into Kakera's ear. "It'll scar those pretty eyes of yours." A sharp blow came to the back of Kakera's knees, causing him to drop to the ground. Numerous hands seized hold of his arms, wrenching them painfully behind him; yet another hand buried itself into his dark locks, tugging on the silky strands with great force. He struggled in an attempt to free at least one of his hands; if he could just release one of his blades he could put up more of a fight, sight or not. He wasn't given that chance as Kakera felt his body hoisted into the air by the hands holding him. There came a faint, stinging prick in his arm just before he was thrown into the back of a large vehicle, heavy bodies clambering in after him.
"Starting to relax yet?" the throated voice sounded again, a hint of sarcasm and a touch of a smirk hidden behind the voice. The wingless angel moved to push himself up but found his muscles would not obey him; he had been injected with a quick acting muscle relaxant. The hands came again, holding him down as a metallic snap sounded, a heavy collar fastened around his neck to prevent him from calling forth any of his attacks or powers. The nerve wrenching sound of metal scrapping against metal was heard followed by the grunt of someone attempting to lift a heavy object. Kakera wondered what that sound was….then he knew. He knew as excruciating, blinding pain swept over him just as the sickening crunch of his left ankle being shattered sounded. The pain came again in thundering rolls as the sledge hammer descended onto Kakera's right ankle, shattering the delicate bone as a tormented scream of pain and anguish left him, echoing through the moving van, bringing smirks and smiles of sheer delight to his capturers faces. The voice came to his ear again as his scream died down, his body crumpling into a heap on the cold floor.
"No need worry your little head off," the voice said, warm breath teasing Kakera's cheek, causing him to cringe. "You still get to play with men, pretty boy. Or, rather, they get to play around with you. But tattoos aren't allowed for pretty playboys like you." The sound of a switchblade being opened was heard as a hand took hold of Kakera's hair again, hauling his head and shoulders off the floor.
"What are you...