Angra Mainyu
Arc One - Arrival - Part Three
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After the initial burst of painful light, and subsequent momentary blindness, Hisoka found himself slowly able to adjust to the sudden change in brilliance of his surroundings. Very slowly. The white spots before his eyes were refusing to simply disappear, a matter that wasn't helped any by the lack of response to his demand for the lights to be shut off. Well, that proved them strong-willed enough to not obey a stranger, however inconvenient the grounds of that proof was.
Blinking again and slowly lowering his hand, a good deal less patient and a good deal more upset by the sudden appearance of light, Hisoka stared down the stairs. His descent was halted a moment longer, his weapon kept in hand as he considered his next step. With his 'pleasant' statement of a few seconds past, it was doubtless that they knew he was there, so turning and running was pointless and would only raise their suspicions of him. For a matter of safety, he could turn invisible again, but that would likely only confuse them and, thusly, rouse their suspicion further. The best course of action was to simply keep moving forward, as stupid as that may have appeared to walk into the waiting arms of the alerted occupants.
However, that didn't meant he was going to blunder forward stupidly or blindly.
Somewhere in his own angry confusion about the lights being turned on, Hisoka had felt himself 'taken' by the impression of another, a resolution for action and careful ambush passed to his mind from that of a calm one. With the taints of anxiety filtering through, threatening to sync up with his own mind and remove what little calm nature he had after the misfortune of the mission thus far, he tentatively guessed that one of the two awake ones was ready to confront the intruder on their turf, which probably meant the bottom of the stairs. It was nothing set to be read in concrete, but his intuition, on certain occasions, had been true enough to make a gambling guess like that turn out true.
And, if he were right in this case, to continue as he was would be to walk straight into a defender of the house, who would likely not be pleased with his entrance, unwanted, in the night hours.
Muttering a light curse under his breath, the teen descended a few more steps. His basic attempts at utter stealth were discarded, his feet making enough noise with each motion to let the others follow him by sound alone. Cursing his own idea, Hisoka stopped long enough to flick the safety of his gun on, the soft click being the only sound for the moment.
With a sigh, perhaps directed at the stupidity of his plan, Hisoka gently tossed the gun down the stairs, hearing it land in the hall and skid a short distance. With hope, the two assassins would realise he had intentionally disarmed himself and thus would let him have a moment to speak without taking drastic action.
Crossing his arms, he leaned against the wall, just a few steps away from the hall; distant enough for comfort and safety. "I know there are two of you there," he said, his voice sounding casual, perhaps even a bit bored. As though, perhaps, he found their attempts to remain hidden from him rather cliché and predictable. In truth, he was simply trying to unsettle them with his words, and hoping that his following guesses were correct enough to win him a few more seconds. "One of you at the bottom of the stairs and ready to stop me if I come further. And the other hidden in a doorway as backup, I'd say."
Letting his words trail off, he took another step down, and then another; the hope was that his statement had unsettled them into a pause so that he could approach without being stabbed... too much. "Don't bother hiding, I'm not here to kill you," he continued, adding silently that he was too late for that anyways. "There's some stuff we gotta talk about, like that ritual of demon summoning, and why none of you can remember it. I'm sure you're all dying to know why it's nothing but hazy thoughts."
While he was still confused, and wary, about how the lights on the entire floor - or so it seemed - had gone on without a person at the switch or fuse box, Omi was hardly unaware of his surroundings. Once his sight had adjusted to the change in brightness, he had easily caught Ran's look and eased back into the cover of his doorframe. Breathing slowly, he tried to listen for their intruder's next words, half hoping that the person would simply turn and flee at the unexpected change.
That, though, was clearly not going to happen; he realised such when the steps continued to grow closer, and lower. Whoever it was, they had gotten over the surprise of the lights and was still coming. His body tensing, he glanced to the hall, catching sight of a pair of runners and the hem of a slightly worn pair of jeans as the intruder took another step closer. Neither looked familiar, just as the voice had been unknown, so any last hope of it being one of Weiß sneaking inside through the roof was discarded.
Taking a sharp breath as the other tossed down his weapon, Omi bit his lip. Somehow they'd figured out the unspoken plan of attack, suggesting perhaps that they had intuition of a mental sort. Mastermind of Schwarz came up as an option, a glimmer of upset stirring at that thought. If Schuldig had ever dared to show his face at Koneko... But why would he throw down his weapon? It hardly seemed like an option for the German to choose.
The thought was cut off from wherever it was going as the person resumed walking. Slowly more of him - and it did seem to be a he - came into view, revealing a slightly lean and slender form wearing worn jeans and a matching jacket. Again, nothing familiar rested about it, and further inspection as halted by the movements of the others, who clearly didn't want to risk anything further in the way of his safety to earn a look down the hall. A glance was risked to Ran, the question of what was going on clear in sapphire eyes, as well as what they should do next. The intruder had an unnatural insight into their minds thus far, it was suspicious in that alone. Who other than Mastermind could possibly read their minds?
The discarded gun was reached to with a foot and slid over out of reach, Ran peering down at it in mildly frustrated curiosity, hardly feeling a victory with the surrender of the unseen man's weapon. Perhaps it was tossed down as a sign of diplomacy, that the man hadn't come to harm them and therefore didn't need his weapon. He lifted his head from staring at the gun, trying to discern something more meaningful by staring at its cold metal surface, as the intruder began to speak, his voice easily echoing down the stairwell.
The boy's blasé attitude as he spoke nearly made the redhead twitch but he suppressed it to not show annoyance, and glanced again at the gun. Or maybe he didn't need his weapon to harm them. How had he been able to know exactly how many there were on the floor when far more lived here, as well as pinpoint their exact locations? The basic plan, true, wasn't the most creative in the book, but it still shouldn't be so blatantly obvious to the last detail to someone who couldn't even see them. Ran's thoughts ran along the same lines as Omi's, trying in vain to figure out who this one could be. He wasn't Schwarz.... the voice was wrong, the tactics of entering the building seemed off, and Schuldig had the oh so loveable tendency to perk up with a nice how do you do in one's mind, very clearly marking his presence. If he wasn't Schwarz... perhaps he was of their same organisation...
At the mention of the ritual summoning, a memory flared bright and harsh in the man's mind, one of his last remaining memories of being alive though he didn't quite realise that fact right now. He wasn't ready yet so it all stayed hidden in the fog of the deepest part of his mind, waiting for light to be brought on the subject, to burn away the fog. The memory was almost painful as it flashed. Wind howling through a deep stone chamber with a strange chanting barely audible, but hypnotic and commanding even in its quietness. A dead calm finally and a figure sitting up. And it all collapsed. Utter destruction swirling out from the form sitting on the altar, opening its feminine lips to let out a loud howl like the screaming pits of hell. Pillars crumbled to dust, bodies fell some with a quick death others just in pieces. A hot inescapable vacuum suction rushing, seeming powerful enough to suck the life and soul from a person...
And then the memory was gone.
Violet eyes widened at it and blinked as it faded. Though he had random short glimpses of the ritual that faded quickly, none had ever been that vivid or lingered that long. Narrowing his eyes as the last of it faded back into the haziness of his mind, he looked over to Omi and shrugged faintly. "Come down then and we can see who we're talking to," he said simply in a firm voice, looking back to the stairwell.
--
Every little action Tsuzuki made was noted with twisted satisfaction, Muraki pleased to know that he could still play the Shinigami into nearly any corner he chose. That would likely prove useful in the days to come, when he put his own plans into play and stopped toying about with hints and suggestions to those he intended to use for his purposes. For the moment, though, it was simply something to note and avoid exploiting; he did not want to adjust Tsuzuki too much to his presence and actions, else the surprise and effective nature of them would wane when he needed it most. A simple pleasure, if you will, to signal the foundation of his future venues.
Being insulted in some derogatory fashion would not do, he decided as Tsuzuki spoke those cold words of him. He was a member of society's upper-class, in the sense of the public eye, and didn't want his reputation tarnished by such blatant words - even if they were true in some small sense. Letting his hand drop to his side, having felt the pleasing, if short, touch of that perfect hair, Muraki turned his silvery gaze to the pair that had interrupted his little moment with Tsuzuki. "I'm not here for any flowers," he said smoothly, lifting his shoulders in a gentle shrug. "This man here was a former patient of mine and I was only stopping to see how his health has been since our last appointment. After all, an illness of the mind, which corrupts the thoughts to see even the purest as little more than animals, is certainly something that a surgeon should be concerned with."
Flicking his cool gaze to Tsuzuki again as he spoke, he let the taint of a dark smile touch his lips again; it was a warning to the other that he would not stand for such treatment in the future. Then he looked to the building they were standing before, noting the odd lighting on the third floor and the darkness everywhere else, and finally the name of the shoppe.
Koneko ni Sume ne... How quaint. It was on the level of offering an arrangement of monkshood to late night visitors. Where he lacked the extensive knowledge of flower languages, Muraki knew enough the meaning behind that bloom, having seen a few of his past puppets receive it as a gift for flawed services. Very quaint attempt to scare him off, though, he had to credit them that. Though it would require a bit more than flower petals to send him to darkness prematurely.
Today, however, he would let them cling to a small victory and would withdraw. He had other matters to attend to first, such as contacting his carefully cultivated, and likely now immortal, puppets. These new toys, so carefully hidden in this Koneko, could admired later for their possibilities. The presence of a Shinigami protecting them phased him not, his abilities enough to have held most at bay in the past. It would, of course, be especially delicious if there were the pair present together; he so missed conversing with the boy and hearing all that hatred in the voice of such youth.
"Since you gentlemen seem to have business together, I will withdraw," he said, keeping his voice gentle and calm, to soothe their upset. "Beloved, perhaps we can continue this conversation later," he added towards Tsuzuki before nodding a goodbye to the other two.
With one last look to the building, Muraki turned and began to walk away, intending to disappear into the shadows of the night once more. As his footsteps faded from the others, the perverse doctor removed a cell phone from his pocket and dialled in a simple number. If his sources were correct, then the number would connect him up with the leader of Schwarz, so that he could arrange to pay them a visit and see how they were faring. If not... Well, he would have to have a word with his sources and investigate why they failed him.
A former patient... At those words, Tsuzuki shivered, his fingers tightening on his right wrist, feeling the metal bite into scar tissue. The physical marks of a soul in torment that was pushed beyond the brink by Muraki. Not that he did not need to be pushed very far. The good doctor knew him and knew him well, as he proved during their last encounter. If it wasn't for Hisoka, Tsuzuki would have let the fires of the Tuan Snake end his life for good.
Hisoka... The blonde Shinigami's words in those fires haven't been repeated since he had recovered from the flames, but they weighed on his mind. He just never had found the right time to ask Hisoka about them yet. Well, Tsuzuki had plenty of time but the wounds of the fire and what brought him to that state had not been healed enough where he felt comfortable enough to ask his partner. Were they words of a friend and partner? Or was there something more?
What ever the answer was, those words felt far more right than being called 'beloved' by Muraki.
Resisting the urge to pft the doctor's back, Tsuzuki uncurled his fingers from his wrist and raked them through his black hair, unconsciously trying to erase the feeling of Muraki's touch, the skittish fear in his eyes fading into his normal expression of cheerful seriousness. Turning to the two men, he smiled and shrugged.
"You can't believe what that man says, the last time I met him, he was trying to kill us..." Realising that he was rambling, Tsuzuki shook his head and smiled ruefully.
"Where are my manners? I'm Tsuzuki Asato from the Summoner's Office of the EnmaCho's Shoka Division and me and my partner were asked to speak to the four that work at the Koneko ni Sume ne. I believe he's already inside..."
The look between the two assassins was nothing short of comical. Aquamarine eyes clashed with emerald as twin sets of eyebrows raised in silent shock of the scene around them. Youji didn't let on that Muraki's blasé treatment of his comment annoyed the hell out of him other than letting the cigarette smoke out through his nose than the usual seductive ring from his mouth.
The two had watched in stoic silence the departure of the doctor but once Tsuzuki had opened his mouth to speak about the reason he was outside their door, the pair had just gone into their shocked Laurel and Hardy routine.
So it was no surprise that even after so many years together they often thought along the same lines and even less of a surprised when they voiced them at the same time.
"You're who?"
"From the what?"
"Would you repeat that again?"
They both glanced back at the lit third floor then back to Tsuzuki. Ken looked back at the Shinigami a look of annoyed disbelief on his face, "Did you say he's already -"
"Inside?" Youji finished just as incredulously. They both swore and took off into a run around the back alley. At the same time they poked their heads around the wall, Ken opened his mouth to speak first.
"What are you doing out there?"
"If you're not here to kill us?"
"And we weren't assigned to kill you..."
"Get your ass over here!" The last was said simultaneously once more before they ducked into the alley toward the back door of Koneko and started punching in their access codes.
Blinking at the pair of once living assassins, Tsuzuki stood in front of the shoppe for a few seconds longer, taking the time to eat another sugar-filled energy booster. All that being scared of Muraki had made him hungry, though if one would listen to Hisoka, Tsuzuki was always hungry. But that was because Tsuzuki had eight years of no eating to catch up on.
Licking the sugar off his fingers, the Shinigami straightened his tie and hair before following the two assassins around the back of the Koneko. These two seemed to be alright, but he wondered why he needed to hurry. It was not like the other two would kill Hisoka. They could try but Tsuzuki knew that even being newborn Shinigami, they could not harm an experienced one like his partner.
Unless they were corrupted by Muraki.
Eyeing the two men, Tsuzuki determined that the good doctor did not touch them at all. There was none of his taint about them, so there was a good chance that maybe all four were clean. But seeing that Muraki knew where they were, there was a good chance that he had plans with them.
--
The noise stopped in the other room. Crumpling up the note, Brad took out a lighter, flicked it open and ran the small flame along the paper's edge. After a moment, flames greedily ate at the paper, starting a merry little blaze in the centre of his palm. The flames themselves also singed his skin, but some practice over the last couple of days had gotten Brad used to knowing when to dump the still flaming paper from his hand into the waste bucket. Brushing the bits of ash off his hand, he arose and started for the living room.
Farfarello brushed by him carrying a large garbage sack full of something wet sounding, the Irishman, heading for the penthouse's incinerator. The albino was splashed liberally with blood, his pale skin and hair nearly stained red. Sighing very faintly, Brad stepped over the spreading stain on the hard wood floor, not wanting to get the splashed on his slippers. Flicking on the light, the Schwarz leader picked up the remote and turned the station to the news.
Farfarello came back with a mop and a bucket, cleaning up the floor to remove all traces of the woman from their apartment. Farfarello's humming mixed strangely with the reporter's commentaries, Brad thought as he reached into his pocket for his vibrating cell phone. Flipping it open, he pushed up his glasses with one hand and said, "Crawford," into the phone. After all, the only ones who knew the number were repeat clients.
Strolling calmly through the darkness, having no fear of whatever might have lurked in any path, Muraki let a smile equal to the unnatural tone of the moon touch his lips. The young hacker that had provided him with the contact information for his new puppets would be well rewarded for his work; if generosity struck the doctor, he stood the chance of letting the boy life a few more years before the poison of his curse claimed him. Perhaps. Until then, the youth would remain alive, thinking of him as his doctor and aide in defeating the childhood disease that afflicted him, instead of the truth of him as the cause.
"We finally exchange words, Crawford," he replied smoothly, his deep voice carried easily through the lines. "Given that you are alive to answer the phone, I assume that my little tips and bits of information from the last few months have proven of worth to you and your associates. How else could one have survived the rampage of a demon, hm?"
Slowing to a stand at a corner, the light of a street lamp bathing him in an ethereal glow that made him appear far more of an angel than he could even truly claim to, Muraki turned his silver gaze to the slowly clouding sky. The overcast signs were suggesting a touch of rain later, and how true that was; he would bring about that rain, though in a more symbolic sense than the literal terms.
Muting the telly with the push of a button Brad frown lightly to himself, loosing his tie with one hand while he listen to the voice on the other end. Their mysterious benefactor had finally decided to get in touch with them, how nice of him. Maybe Brad should cheer and thank the maker for such a miracle as well. Smirking at his sarcastic thoughts, the precog tugged his tie off and let the strip of cream silk fall from his fingers.
"Your information was rather useful," Brad replied, undoing the first two buttons of his white dress shirt. "And it would seem that you are well aware of who we are and what we were doing, but I don't believe I have the pleasure of meeting you, Mister..."
Raising an eyebrow, Muraki held back any urge to chuckle at the complete lack of knowledge that the other held. Given what he knew of the group, he would have expected a profile already built about him from the youngest, who apparently had some skills with the computer. Or perhaps the German, who was said to read minds and could have picked up the information from a ex-'patient' of his. Curious that they hadn't, but fare more to his benefit.
"Doctor," he corrected. "Muraki for the specifics, if you feel the need. And I was hoping we could remedy the situation of your lost knowledge. Perhaps we could arrange to meet sometimes, or this evening? There is much we could discuss, such as exactly how useful it was."
"Ah, I see, Doctor," Brad replied smoothly, switching hands with the phone as the Irishman came back to settle down on the floor with is knives. A brief smirk touched his lips, his cold eyes watching the soundless anchorman of the news program. It sounded like his ruse had worked in a small way.
Brad disliked having his plans interfered with by anyone, so when the first mysterious tip appeared, Brad had immediately had Nagi and Schuldig work on it to find out more about the person who sent it. The good doctor was good enough to hide some of his activities from the public eyes, but Schwarz was not like any other group in Japan. He had a rather well-documented profile built of the man, but there were some key pieces that didn't quite add up. Yet.
"A meeting face-to-face would not be unwelcome, Doctor. Do drop by at your convenience, tonight if you wish. We are currently between jobs."
And so the trap began to close upon his prey. By no means would it be a quick capture, but the first step - that of placing the foot in the circle of metal teeth - had been taken by the ones of Schwarz. With time they would be painfully caught in his plans and unable to do anything but his will. At least, that was the plan intended; how smoothly that went would depend on the four puppets he had now acquired.
"Very well," he said, still walking with a casual air through the streets, despite the dangers of the midnight hour. "Prepare yourselves, since I am already on my way. I am looking forward to learning what success you have made with those trivial bits of information I lent you."
The words were left hanging, the emphasis on lent left to Crawford to ignore or ponder on. Meanwhile, Muraki emerged again from shadows, his powers receding from the exertion of a darkness-hidden teleport. Turning his silvery gaze to the building he had emerged closest to, he smiled. According to his information, his new puppets were waiting inside, on one of the highest floors. He could contain only with some minor difficulty the anticipation of meeting the powerful four that were now his. Contained it was, though, for he knew there were larger prizes in life. Just as he had remained calm at learning his dearly cursed puppet had become a Shinigami or that his beautiful partner had been the perfect specimen for his Saki experiments, Muraki showed nothing of his emotion. There was no need to glee about any matter until the fish were firmly lodged in the net.
Footnotes:
Would have posted this last night, were it not for the Shift From Hell making me tired as hell. Hope you enjoyed part three of this arc. Comments/reviews are strongly appreciated.
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