Angra Mainyu
Arc One - Arrival - Part Two
----------------------------
Sitting out on the balcony of the Schwarz penthouse, Schuldig did not acknowledge the spectacle of the blood moon. His mind was far from it. Literally. Head resting back against the side of the building, hands buried deep in the thick blond curls of some nameless wench kneeling between his spread legs, Schuldig was caught in a limbo world of duelling pleasures. One a matter of reflex as his body instinctive reacted to physical stimulus, the other...
Well, the other found him cruising the minds of those in the city and creating mayhem and mischief in his passing. Currently, the telepath resided in the mind of one emotionally distraught man. The poor sap had been fired earlier that day and, afraid of losing face with his family, now stood on his balcony contemplating ending it all. And Schuldig was giving him a -hand- with that decision. Somehow he translated the ecstasy coursing through his own body into making the idea of splattering oneself on the sidewalk many floors below as erotic and appealing idea as possible.
As Schuldig panted, the man did as well, slowly climbing up on the ledge, one hand trailing across his bare chest, pinching hard, sensitive nubs in an obscene echo of the redhead's actions. Shakily standing up, precariously balanced on the narrow railing, the man worked himself into a frenzy of sensation that did not originate from himself, all the while staring longingly at the cement below as he. When Schuldig tensed up, then plunged over into bliss, the man spread out his other arm and cried out his own release even as his body rushed to meet his now beloved pavement.
Now, with the granting of immortality, the telepath had discovered that nothing much had really changed. He still had his telepathy, obviously and his freaky quick superhuman like speed. Only now he had this awesome new ability to heal much faster than normal and a better recovery period from over exertion of his powers. Not that he did that much. But it did happen.
Like now. Schuldig had pushed the envelope by seducing that man into suiciding after prowling Tokyo with his mind for several hours. But then again they, whoever the hell -they- were, said that sex was good for curing headaches. A more primitive from of healing than what his new status granted, but added with the quick healing, that threatening headache never even had a chance to blossom.
With a sated smirk, Schuldig yanked the girl away from him by her hair, ignoring her small cry as she stumbled back into the railing. He was satisfied and that's all that mattered. Rising from the chair, not even bothering to redo his pants and a lit cigarette already halfway to his mouth, he waved a hand dismissively at her and curtly told her to see herself out.
Only when she had fled in tears did he turn his face up and gaze into the blood moon.
--
There are very few things that would stop a Shinigami from their appointed tasks. Powerful magicks, stronger spells, though in the case of this particular Shinigami it was nothing more sinister than an all night candy store. One of the most powerful Shinigami, even if he isn't aware of it, Tsuzuki Asato loved his sweets. And an open candy store in the path between him and his destination was a sign to indulge his sweet tooth.
Taking his time to browse through the delectable choices of sugary goodies, Tsuzuki did not worry about his partner getting in over his head, nor did he wonder about the ominous red moon overhead. Well, to be honest he did wonder a little bit about the red moon and about Hisoka was doing. But honestly, he thought that the younger Shinigami needed to relax a little or have something chocolatey that would help relax him a little. He wasn't going to suggest it, but the little obsession with You-know-who-that-is-also-named-Muraki was a little too much at times.
"Some people are just too serious by half," he murmured to himself, gleeing silently as he found some boxes of pocky that would be great with coffee in the morning.
Finally settling on two boxes of chocolate pocky, a few boxes of imported German chocolate liquors, and a tin of almond paste fruits. Buy the whole lot from his own pocket, the Shinigami stuff the treats away in his trenchcoat and wandered out into the night air, pulling out the bit of paper with the name and address of where the four new Shinigami were holed up. Blinking at the scrawled handwriting, Tsuzuki scrunch his nose, purple eyes squinting at the scrawl then flipped it over and repeated the process. Tucking it away again, he adjusted his tie and headed in the direction he believed was the right one. At least that was the way he was going in the first place when the candy store called to him.
He could sort of understand Hisoka's need to track the good doctor down and see to it that the man paid. It was normal for a murder victim to feel that way about their murder. But it wasn't healthy to dwell on it the way he was. Especially since the immortal could be somewhere else in the city that had nothing to do with a demonic surge of energy and four new Shinigami. Okay, so maybe he was hoping that Muraki had nothing to do with what they were sent to investigate. From the rather brief contact he had with the man, Tsuzuki was not too keen on getting any where near him again. He got shivers thinking about how the doctor was eyeing him.
Anyways, he'll worry about that later. Right now he had to find a flower shoppe called Koneko ni Sume ne and find his partner before he got in over his head. These new Shinigami were once assassins and even death would not have tempered their edges. They may not kill Hisoka, but he could get hurt and that would be bad. For whom is a question he did not ask.
Pausing in his search, he looked up at an over hanging sign and smiled, his odd-coloured eyes lighting up in success. Looking the place over, he raised an eyebrow, seeing that every light in the building was on. Either Hisoka had woke them up to explain what had happened to them or woke them up and is now getting himself hurt by people that do not like being surprised. So he could either run in there to save the day or just take a look around. Decisions decisions.
Deciding on saving the day, he looked around to check for the cost being clear and heard someone approach. Grumbling how he now had to wait for whoever it was to past by before he could fly to the rooftop, Tsuzuki took out a candy to chew on while he waited.
The soft steps made their approach towards the unsuspecting Shinigami, near silent in their path until halted as the newcomer paused to look over the late-night visitor to the busy city. The moon's ruby light, so noticed by some, cast a pale glow upon the flowing lengths of white cloth that was his apparel, the pure coloured trenchcoat only broken by silver-edged blue belts and adornments. Had Tsuzuki turned to face this new person, he would have instantly recognised him by the choice of white apparel along. That failing, the single silver eye gazing appreciatively at him would have likely helped him remember, along with the careful curtain of platinum hair that kept the other eye, a mechanical one, well-hidden. The essence of the moment though, and the reason why he had paused, was that the Shinigami had not turned to look at him. That left him with a moment of pure viewing appreciation, silver tones tracing down that perfect body, imagining all the plans he had once held for it and for the mysterious remains of his Saki.
Those plans, though, were in the past... mostly. After being burned by the first of Tern Snake, and recovering slowly therein, Muraki had toned down his obsession with the perfect one for a bit. There were others that would suffice for Saki's revival, from the choice of his cursed little puppet to the four new puppets he had collected through service in information. Tsuzuki was still the perfect choice, just no longer the first one. The man's will was hard to break through his body alone; he would have to turn to alternative forms to have Tsuzuki in pieces.
With a dark smile upon his lips, Muraki moved closer and raised a pale hand in and attempt to brush it through Tsuzuki's dark hair, to revel in the feel of that perfection again. And, perhaps, to incite that skittish scared-rabbit feeling in the other that could be so amusing; for being dead - or rather half-dead, half-alive - for seventy years, Tsuzuki had an amusing innocence about him that had him quickly shy away from his own unique sexual advances. "What brings you out at this time of night, beloved," he murmured, purposefully speaking as though there were something between he and Tsuzuki despite the lack therein. "You might catch a cold being outside too long along."
--
"Oi, oi, Kenken. Slow down. This is supposed to be a jog, not a goddamn sprint."
Turning to run backwards to face his long time friend, Ken Hidaka smiled teasingly, "I am jogging. You're the one with the cancer riddled lungs."
"I don't have cancer."
"Yet."
"I'm hurt, Kenken. You want me to die a horrible, horrible death from lung cancer." Youji Kudou stopped to lean on a wall softly panting for breath clutching at the ache in his side has his other lay flat against the wall he leaned on.
Ken stopped but remained jogging in place completely unfazed by his pace of the exertion of his late night jog. In an attempt to extradite himself from yet another long night of Youji's loud porn fetish he'd opted to go out for a jog, test his mettle so to speak. Actually it had been an attempt to clear out the fuzziness in his mind. The past few days he'd felt disjointed and disoriented. Not to mention he was getting annoyed of the earthquakes that it seemed only he could feel. With the earthquake came the occasional odd flash of a half remembered memory of things gone horribly wrong, but the memory faded just as quickly as the tremor did. "I still don't get how you can smoke those things and still function on a mission."
The blonde coughed a bit. Actually it was more like a wheeze than a cough as he flashed his seductive smirk. "Years of practice, Kenken. Years of practice."
"Oi, oi. I don't know why I bother sometimes. You're insufferable."
"Not as much as your precious Aya. Really you and he... it would never work. Fire and Ice is never a good combination. Or in Aya's case cold frigid Antarctic chunks of ice."
The brunette rolled his aqua eyes and took off running, knowing that now the gauntlet was dropped Youji wouldn't let up. And true to his meddling nature, he could hear the blonde's footsteps mixed with his owns. "Honestly. I don't know why I told you."
"Because I was annoying the hell out of you about that red head girl and you sometimes forget to keep your secret's when you get adorably pissed off."
"Damnit. I need to learn to control my temper."
"Naw. It's too cute. Like a pissy little Pikachu."
"Omi's the pissy little Pikachu."
"True. True. We're getting off the subject. Why Aya and not someone more suited to you... like me for example."
"Ha ha. Funny. I like my pecker the way it is. I don't want any of your diseases."
Youji gasped clutched his chest and promptly fell to the floor. "Ahhh, Kenken. Thou woundest me to the quick!"
Ken stopped and laughed at his friend and yanked him up shaking his head softly. "Seriously. You and me? You're my best friend and anything with you would be just... weird."
"I know. I know. I was just joking, besides anything is more plausible than you and -AYA-. I don't think he even has sexual thoughts let alone has a functioning penis aside for pissing."
The younger male fell over in a fit of laughter at Youji's tone and expression. "You're horrible. He's our teammate!"
"Doesn't mean I have to like him on a personal level."
"I thought you liked Aya." Ken finally stopped his jog and just walked along his friend.
"Okay. I do, but he makes it so difficult. The way he just stands there and looks right through you as if you're not even there. Hell as if none of us are there other than his target. It's fuckin' creepy! He's fuckin' creepy." With hands in the pockets of his sweatpants he sighed softly as he walked with Ken.
The both of them fell silent for a moment both of them musing about Aya for different reasons. Youji wondering how in the hell Aya had managed to snag Ken's affection. Ken wondering what Aya was currently doing.
Just then they turned the corner with Koneko looming just a head. Ken felt Youji's hand on his shoulder pulling him back. Ken's eyes narrowed suspiciously at the pair standing before the Koneko. He felt a light prodding and looked back at the playboy who nodded upstairs. Every single light was on in the third level.
That was not good. Especially at this hour of the night.
Together they walked slowly, Youji's hand never once leaving Ken's shoulder. It seemed to be one of the few things that could keep him from flying off ass first into a situation. Just that calming hand.
Time suddenly seemed to slow as they approached the pair of men on the street. In fact when Ken glanced around the street he noticed an alley cat in mid-air almost but moving very slowly from the garbage can to the floor. A ball of paper caught in a breeze moved with the exact slow precision the cat was moving in.
The approached the two and just as Ken blinked everything seemed to return to normal. He no longer felt that odd slowness about him nor did he feel as if he were moving way too fast for the things going on around him.
Youji's voice broke the silence. In lazy come hither drawl he reached for a cigarette and lit the cherry before them and blew out a ring of smoke toward them.
Ken recognised it as Youji's 'I'm quicker than I look and can kill you before you even blink' stance. He couldn't help but smirk. Years of practice indeed.
"Can I help you gentlemen with anything? The shop is closed but maybe a nice bouquet of Monkshood would be to your liking which I can arrange for you in a second if that is what you desire."
At the sound of Muraki's voice, Tsuzuki's purple eyes widen, his lips parting a silent whisper of the man's name. No. He wasn't suppose to be there. Muraki was suppose to be on the other side of town doing what he normally does, not standing close enough that Tsuzuki could feel his breath on the back of his neck.
Feeling the whisper of fingers touching his silky black hair, Tsuzuki tensed, looking over his shoulder at the man in white behind him. Muraki had always sent a shiver of fear through him. There was something about the man that woke painful memories better left sleeping.
Youji's voice breaking the stillness of the night woke him from his paralysis, the fingers of his left hand encircling his right wrist, feeling the bite of his metal watch into his skin. Twisting around he moved like a skittish horse away from the good doctor, eyes never leaving Muraki's face. He didn't put his back to him, even though moments before he had. He just couldn't, knowing what he did and knowing that Muraki had some weird obsession with him. Honestly what was with all those obsession-driven people and him? Why can't they go bother someone else? He was just a freak that wasn't even human when he was alive.
With space to breathe, he glanced over at the two that had appeared with the suddenness of ghosts or Shinigami. There was a feeling about them, a touch of power that was not of the living world any more. They had to be a pair of the new Shinigami. It could be the only explanation.
"I've actually came to speak with you about something important," Tsuzuki replied, pleased at least that his voice wasn't as shaky as he felt. "As for that-- creature, I haven't a clue."
--
Moving from his doorway out into the hallway as Omi went to retrieve a few of his darts, Ran suddenly turned his head down and shielded his eyes from the sudden flood of light. Violet eyes blinked rapidly a few times so he could get his vision to come back from the glaring brightness when he'd just been adjusting to the darkness. A glare was sent up to the offending hallway light bulb until he narrowed his eyes and looked away with a frown, a further thought other than 'too damn bright' blipping through his mind.
How the hell had that happened?
Granted, Omi could have flipped on his light switch of his room while he'd been in there, but all lights of the floor simultaneously? He'd had his light off, so someone couldn't easily have been at the fuse box... Just another thing to add to the growing list of oddities that had occurred in the past few days. Glancing over to see if Ken and Youji had yet emerged, another light frown twitched on his lips to see their doors partly open but not a single sign of life from within. He was about to guess this was some kind of late night prank from the two when the curse sounded from the stairway leading to the roof.
Definitely not Ken or Youji's tones.
The fact that the two weren't present didn't exactly worry him for the moment. Though he was hardly familiar with all of his teammates' quirks and habits, he knew a few just from observation, and knew that Ken often went out for a late night jog. Why? Something about it being quieter and cooler and less crowded on the streets. He didn't bother himself with the whys of what they all did with their time, hoping they would return the favour and not bother him about some of his habits and hobbies.
Moving forward through the hallway, he moved to press his back against the wall next to the doorway to the stairs so he wasn't in direct sight. Violet eyes sought out sapphire and he nodded his head faintly, trying to signal Omi to move back into his room to stay out of sight so they could have full surprise when whoever was here came down. It wasn't a voice he recognised and it sounded like there was just one person.... now is when he wished Youji with his wire was around so he could truss up whoever was in the stairway but he shook it off. He and Omi could handle themselves easily against whoever was there.
He bit his lip slightly to hold in a breath, his brow furrowing slightly. He was used to having to be on the defence on missions but not in his own home... Although this wasn't the only time they'd been attacked in their home.
Wait...
Wasn't it?
Shaking his head as that thought just fuzzed into confusion, the lack of memories of the ritual blurring the memory of when Schwarz had raided Koneko for Aya-chan, Ran just waited there out of sight to see if their intruder would come down.
--
The Berzerker of Schwarz was sitting cross-legged on the living room floor, several of his knives spread out before him like a fan. Knives meant to rip flesh, break bones, to render a human from living flesh and blood to a pile of twitching meat have been sharpen and polished until the cold steel glittered in the light from the TV. Picking up a knife at random, Farfarello raised it, his single brandy coloured eye reflected back to him on the blade's surface. Tilting it to the side, he saw the image of Schuldig's latest flavour as she barged out of the telepath's room, her clothes clung tightly in her hands as she yelled at the German.
So this was all there was after waking the sleeping Titan? What waste.
Shrugging to himself, he twisted the knife in his hand and stabbed clean through his other hand and into his thigh below it. It was one of his usual tricks, his fingers willing experimentally to make sure that he can still use them before twisting the knife and jerking it out of his leg and hand just as easily as he put it in there. The girl shrieked behind him, seeing the bright splash of blood as it splattered across the floor.
"Scream again and maybe your wishes will come true," Farfarello said, not even glancing at her, his eye focused on the now-stained blade. Bringing it to his lips, his pale tongue flickered out to take a swipe at the red liquid, nodding to himself at the slightly salty tang.
The woman was panting now, trying to keep her sobs inside of her as she back away from this display. Farfarello stood up, turning to face her directly, the knife dropping to be held loosely in his hand. Bringing his stabbed hand to his lips, Farfarello cleaned it of the blood, the cut already gone like it had never happened.
"Too late, maybe you should have left instead of watch," he said, taking a step towards her. "Or maybe you are already dead and your body already knows it."
The woman opened her mouth to scream but by then Farfarello was upon her. And there was time for was a choked cry of pain.
Watching the red moon from the window, Brad listened to the sounds from the living room, not needing to look to know that Farfarello was having his usual fun. Except the Irishman usually slipped out to do so, not risk being placed in his straightjacket because he made a mess on the carpet. The immortality granted to them by the demon did not seem to affect anything with the Irishman, who was continuing like nothing had happened. He knew he had to adjust to the odd feeling of his new body, and Brad was sure that the others did as well. And none of them lost their abilities as well.
Raising the letter he received last night, the American re-read the elegant handwriting, his chocolate coloured eyes narrowing at the words there. Their mysterious benefactor was someone that gave them the necessary clues to finish the puzzle and bring forth a demon to fuel their needs. But Brad did not trust the person at all. Years of living and working within a group of ambitious backstabbers made him paranoid of this sort of unasked for help. No one gave anything away for free. No one would give them this kind of power without first creating a plan. And from the cold feeling he got from the letters, Brad knew that whatever it was, it was not good for his team.
But for now, he would follow the advice. Until the path twisted away from his path. Then maybe the mysterious benefactor would find himself on the receiving end of Schwarz.
Footnotes:
More parts coming; there are four ready to post for this arc already. Think I should post them after work?
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