Angra Mainyu
Arc One - Arrival - Part Five
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Pressing his lips together in thought, Brad flipped his cell phone closed and removed his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers as he thought. Every step that Schwarz took now could either mean the end of their plans or the beginning of the anarchy they had striven so hard to achieve. Their futures laid scattered about in a fall of shredded glass, but he had the tools and the mind to pull them back together while the others had their own skills to hold everything back into place. His only worry still was that of Muraki. Either he would prove useful or he will prove to another one like the Elders were, just using them like breathing dolls.
And Crawford was tired of being nothing more than a tool.
"Farfarello, inform the others that we are going to have a visitor soon," he said, replacing his glasses, his eyes opening to look at the Irishman.
Tilting his head to the side, the albino looked slyly out of the corner of his single brandy coloured eye. A dark smirk crossed his features before the man unfolded his long limbs, standing upright and stalking out of the room, pausing to bang a hand against the door of their demon's door.
"We have a guest coming, Demonchild," he hissed as he passed, continuing on his way to tell Nagi then Schuldig if he was still in.
As soon as Farfarello slapped his palm on the door and hissed, the door opened and Schwarz's little demon stood there in a form fitting white dress that flowed about the lithe form like water, showing off the feminine charms the host body had graced her with. Whether she had just been near the door when he knocked in his harsh manner or if she could just move that quickly was really an unknown. "I do find it morbidly amusing you refer to me as 'child', you who calls yourself by the name of a demon. I am older than any creation you have heard of," she said smugly even as she turned to go down the hallway, her voice indeed carrying a timeless quality in the soft bell like tones.
She walked without any fear of having her back to Farfarello, the human dismissed from thought as she moved to the living room. Though they were extremely powerful for having been born mortal, they posed no threat to her. She'd given them their immortality, she could take it away. Well no not really but she had some tricks up her sleeve that would make her quite a formidable opponent if they ever chose to face her down if her use to them was ever gone. She had no intentions of returning to whence she came. And especially not at their hands. As they wished to not be used as toys, so did she.
Walking into the living room where Farfarello had killed Schuldig's guest, Aya sighed and just closed her eyes for a moment, inhaling. The man may have cleaned the traces of blood so well that even the coppery hint of it didn't hang in the air, but none would be able to rid the room of the aura now about it. It was thick in the air she could nearly taste it. The feel of fear and cruelty, humiliation and loss, destruction... It was invigorating, a dark energy that fuelled what she needed to live, to a creature straight from the dark pits of hell at least.
Crawford being in the room was pretty much ignored and the girl tilted her head, long hair in two thick plaits over her shoulders swinging slightly with the motion. Why she kept the full appearance of the sweet young Aya-chan to the tiniest detail she was unsure of at the moment, but the juxtaposition of fresh innocence to the inhuman evil within was amusing in its own dark way. Walking into the room she almost seemed to glide to the window, looking down to the street below. Though the street was nearly forty stories down, she could see it perfectly, down to an insect crawling along the sidewalk, so Muraki standing in his flowing white robes was easily spotted. Aya just stayed there at the window silently, looking down at the silver eyed male with her own dark nearly hypnotic eyes.
Staring out over the city nightscape, Schuldig rested comfortably against the railing, still coming down from the evening's little venture. One would have had to have been blind to miss the look Farfarello had given the doomed girl when he'd brought her in, and the redhead knew that when he set her loose the white-haired man would take his turn with her. Her mental screams and cries and projected fears had been as pleasurable to listen to as the blow job she had given had been.
What a great tension reliever the evening had been.
Flicking his cigarette butt out over the balcony, Schuldig lazily drew away from the cooler air and retreated back inside. The undone shirt was redone and tucked back in his pants, the pants themselves refastened. Wouldn't do to appear in front of Aya-chan all dishevelled. Schuldig could be a gentleman when he so chose to be.
//Did you have fun?// he sent to Farfarello as he emerged from his bedroom, brushing stray strands of fiery hair from his face. //I thought it would be courteous of me to share.// An appreciative glance was spared for Aya-chan as Schuldig moved to sit on a couch, but nothing more. While the girl child buried deep within her own body was beautiful, Schuldig knew better than to mess with a demon. He still shuddered, days later, when he recalled what had happened to Sakura and poor saps unfortunate enough to be left behind in the temple when the chaos had broken free.
Yes, he liked his body the way it was, thank you very much. Intact.
"So," he drawled, watching Crawford from his perch on the sofa. "Why have I been summoned forth from my lair?" Emerald green eyes twinkled with amusement and a flash of that cocky grin that he knew irritated the American spread across Schuldig's lips as he waited for an answer he already knew.
Continuing to stare down, the demoness narrowed her eyes and just left her gaze on the man in the white robes which seemed to glow about him in the red tinged moonlight. There was something about him... he hardly seemed like all the other inhabitants of this city. In a similar way that the others in the room with her and herself were hardly what they seemed. "I do believe our visitor is here," she said smoothly, turning her head slightly to the side, her profile lit by the window's illumination. Tilting her head more, her dark eyes glanced over to Crawford and Schuldig. "Shall we be kind hosts and let him in?"
Schuldig almost opened his mouth to say no, he didn't feel like being kind, but quickly discarded that idea. No need to piss the demon off right from the start. That could be very bad for him in the future.
The redhead did have sense after all.
He leaned against the window next to the demoness and took a good look at their 'guest'
"Right," he winked at Aya-chan before getting that far off look in his eyes. Time to get down to business. Inserting himself carefully into the consciousness off the security personal of the building, Schuldig went about 'informing' them that 'this' man..showed them an image of Muraki... was to be admitted into the building and showed straight to the penthouse. Very important. Wouldn't want to upset anyone by delaying him. That could be a...painful mistake.
When done, he slowly withdrew, but not before suggesting that later on they all needed to visit the voluptuous woman who lived on the second floor and strip search her for possible drugs. Thoroughly.
Schuldig chuckled to himself and refocused on Aya-chan. "Done."
--
Lengths of white cloth settled about him as he stilled his motion, the feeling of his observation being returned bringing Muraki's attention further to the many floors above. While his human sight was poor beyond a hundred feet, the mechanisms powering his right eyes were much more powerful, enough for him to observe many stories into the sky. Not enough to see anything of interest, unfortunately, but enough to know that there was a figure of sorts countless floors above. Even without visual confirmation, the doctor could feel the power of that gaze. Power and curiosity, he assumed; no doubt it was the creature summoned through the portal. Interesting that it was conscious and attentive to his arrival, even if it was passing interest fuelling it. Perhaps the demon had more worth than he had originally presumed.
Of course, originally he had laid out the foundation and clues for a relatively lower level demon to be pulled forth from Hell. This one carried an interesting taint of magic beyond that, or so the feeling along the back of his neck spoke of. It would be interesting to meet the creature in person and see if they could match up to his mind and ability. Interesting, but hardly a priority.
Turning his silver gaze back to the street about him, a moment's pause given to readjust the focus of his unnatural eye to the sudden close nature of their surroundings, Muraki started towards the building. Met by a security just within, he noted, with curiosity, the way the man had been standing with a near distraction about him, as though the power of suggestion was being worked upon him. Perhaps the influence of the German, which his notes suggested the power of telepathy. Then again, it could have been thoughts of the end of shift or an upcoming vacation that had driven the man to slight distraction; his assumption could easily have been wrong. It was an acceptable fact of life; Muraki could not be correct one hundred percent of the time. It was his job, as a doctor, to assume through clues and then confirm. Observe the symptoms and names the disease, so to speak.
Holding aside the man's distraction, Muraki spoke with him for a few minutes, explaining his purpose to visit some friends in the penthouse. It was a certain level of pleasant surprise that he felt when he was informed of being expected and that he would be escorted straight up. Clearly, his little puppets were indeed aware of more than he had given credit to; that would prove useful to master in the future. Contemplating the benefits of that quick awareness, Muraki silently followed the security guard to the elevator.
Once inside, with the doors slid shut to hide him from prying eyes, Muraki let a smile touch his features. Hardly genki in any form, it was the look of a man who was about to reap the benefits of a harvest well-planted and tended.
--
Making no move save to let the newly made Shinigami move ahead of him, Tsuzuki turned his head to watch his partner move down the stairs. Seeing the slight movement his partner made, a frown appeared on his normally happy face, violet eyes narrowing slightly. Tsuzuki never denied that his feelings concerning Muraki were mixed. The doctor had been there when he first managed to find death and he had nearly gotten him to throw himself into the flames again. There was a fear, of what Muraki would do to him, but there was also anger for what he done to countless numbers of people including himself and Hisoka.
And what he still did to Hisoka even with his presence, the curse marks burning even now whenever the doctor was near.
Falling into step next to Hisoka, Tsuzuki placed a hand lightly on his shoulder in comfort, giving his shoulder a friendly squeeze before dropping his hand. He knew that the younger Shinigami did not liked to be touched, and he did not want the blond to feel worse than he already was.
Raising an eyebrow as Ken went sliding down the railing, Tsuzuki thought not for the first time that they were going to have their hands full. Four new Shinigami, Muraki and a demon would definitely test them and maybe bring out more of their own past demons. He wasn't sure how much Hisoka knew about his past, but it wasn't very pleasant. But neither was his.
"Well, in a way we are," Tsuzuki said with a shrug as he followed the others, keeping close to Hisoka. "There's at least ten branches to the Summoner's Office alone."
Clear blue eyes blinked as an arm fell across his shoulders, Omi glancing to the side to see Youji there and as careless as ever. Giving his friend a light poke in the side, the youth otherwise left the arm unnoticed, simply continuing down the stairs with the elder pacing him. One could simply not stop Youji from doing as he pleased about people - in that sense at least - and it was just better to let him be rather than try and duck away and endure the torment (and return some) that the supposed shyness would incite. Of course, there were times that it was great fun to do that, and then attempt to tease the other though his teasing, but now was not the time.
Reaching the bottom of the stairs at a far slower rate - read: not breakneck speed - than Ken, Omi finally shrugged his shoulders free of Youji and turned to watch the two visitors as they reached the end of the steps. Thankfully the stairwell opened into the meeting/living area, with the kitchen and other rooms branching off it, so they did not have to move much further to have a seat. To which Omi set an example, claiming the arm of a reclining chair as his spot.
Throughout all that, the gun remained in his hands. Even in his impromptu seat, Omi kept it on his lap, a hand covering it to decline any thoughts of retrieving it. Untrusting of people? That was hardly something that could be applied to Omi. In fact, out of the four assassins, he often came up as the more trusting one - Ken, of course, sometimes paralleled or beat him in that - and was likely the one offering the visitors the greatest benefit of the doubt. Such that they could argue their case, of course.
"And what does this Summoner's Division, who has so many branches, want with four flower shop attendants?" he asked carefully, considering the answers offered so far. Clearly it was another organisation facing them, but the question of their intent was unknown, and what they wanted with Weiß. Perhaps they shared a goal with Este and would have to be carefully dealt with. Or, perhaps, somehow they knew of Kritiker and was searching for support from the agents therein. Whichever it was, the answer was key and needed before much more could be said.
For one of the rare times in his life - or death - Hisoka allowed the brief contact between himself and Tsuzuki. Of all the people he knew, the youth was only comfortable with a few, and contact therein was generally scarce. With his empathy, he could synchronise too easily with people, something that was compounded by contact. Tsuzuki had learned the hard way how adamant Hisoka could be about his solitude in touch, especially when struck by the mind of another. Still, a rare sort of trust was laid in the older Shinigami, one that allowed their contact - perhaps also helped by the suggestion of emotion he had so deeply displayed within the first of the gods. And that light touch therein was enough to draw his attention away from Muraki long enough to deal with the mission he had been given: Explain to the new Shinigami what they were.
Following the others to the lower floor, Hisoka slipped his hands in his jean pockets again, adopting his habitual careless slouch as he listened to the youngest of them - still his elder by at least a year, of all luck - as he asked about the Summoner's Division's interest in them.
"Look, we're not going to lie to you," he said coolly, "so don't lie to us. The Summoner's Division is aware of your status as hired killers and your employ with the organisation Kritiker. And we are not here to contract you on a kill or anything like that, so don't go making stupid assumptions."
Hisoka, clearly, had endless levels of tact.
Resisting the urge to sigh in frustration of their possible stupidity, Hisoka having no faith in the intelligence of some, he watched the others carefully with jade eyes. "The Summoner's Division deals with deaths," he said simply. "Unnatural, paranormal, freakish; whatever you want to call it, they deal with the unknown and suspicious causes of deaths. Vampire-like cases, underground human organ transplanting groups, and cases where the victim looks to have been killed by the hands of a demon. If it's unnatural, they look into it.
"The agents of the Summoner's Division are Shinigami. There's only one way to become a Shinigami, and that is to die in a fashion where your spirit and soul wander lost with unfulfilled purpose. When that happens, you are brought to Hades and the Summoner's Division becomes your employer. It's not very common to get new Shinigami at a high rate; usually the victims of brutality and murder on the worst scale are the sort that arrive." Pausing, he freed his hands again, crossing them over his chest unconsciously; another attempt to hide the already concealed red marks that had brought about his own painful death. "People with a motivation to make right what was wronged to them, that's what Shinigami are." Or the motivation to find their killer and know what was done to them...
Again the youth paused, attempting to word the next statement without stepping on Tsuzuki's privacy, or his own. "Tsuzuki and I are Shinigami of the EnmaCho's Shoka Division. Tsuzuki's been working with them for seventy years, I've only worked for about a year. Both of us began our work with them shortly after our own deaths. We've investigated everything, from human cloning to a demon's contract with a violinist, and now we've been reassigned to Tokyo for a new mission."
And now came the fun part: Explaining their current situation. Hisoka settled on the simple and blunt solution, figuring that the assassins would be able to realise what he was meaning with his words. "We've been sent here to investigate the summoning of two demons within this city and to find the four new Shinigami of the EnmaCho's Shoka Division. Those four Shinigami are you four assassins."
At that, Hisoka stopped. He was not the talkative type on any level, and the past few minutes had just worn out his want to speak for a while. He hoped that the words would be enough to inform Weiß that, yes, they were dead. If they couldn't figure that out, he would declare them officially stupid.
Meanwhile, the jade-eyed youth drew in a slow breath, keeping close to Tsuzuki in case one of the four had an adverse reaction to the explanation. The matter of possible physical harm in that was dismissed, it was the emotional damage that he was worried, even slightly, about. Proximity to Tsuzuki would allow him to cling to the adjusted sense of mind, rather than the easily overpowering feel of four minds dealing with the information of their deaths.
"So... we're dead." That was about all he managed to figure out in the teens diatribe. Dark brows furrowed in disappointment, mouth opening to ask mire before he was interrupted. On cue.
"Well doesn't just that suck." Sprawled as he was on the love seat, Youji had opted to start smocking his cigarette when something dawned on him. "Ha! Ken! You owe me a million yen! You bet me that these would be the death of me." Youji grinned flicking the cigarette at Ken.
The male squeaked as the lit projectile landed in his lap. "Eh... screw off. I ain't payin' ya nothing. Dead people don't have money." Ken glanced over at the two Shinigami. "Or do we? So... how did we die, because. I really don't remember."
Pfting into the air as he reached for another cigarette safe in the knowledge he'd never die from them. (That was truly the best part about finding out he was dead.) He enlightened for the soccer player what he and doubtless the other two had figured out. "We failed the mission, Siberian. Birman told us when we first signed up. Go against Persia, or fail a mission we'd be out. This is what she meant. I don't remember much of it either other than it was insanely fast, but... seems like if they're here," He pointed to their visitors, "And we're dead. Este some how won."
Leaning against the doorframe they'd all just exited through, Ran just stared at the Shinigami telling them what had happened, the blips and bits of painful memories of the ritual coming together in the full scheme of what he'd seen and how he'd died. So he was dead... so they were all dead... He squeezed his eyes shut, blaming himself for all of their deaths and whatever situation they were now in. It had been his sister they'd all gone to save, not even needing an official mission from Kritiker to do so.
His sister...
Cool violet eyes opened once more, glancing at his teammates before fixing his gaze on Hisoka once more. He'd... said two demon summoning. They'd been killed by one. Everyone had been killed by one.
No. Not everyone...
His eyes widened slightly as he started trying to place where everyone had been in the ritual and came up with a few missing persons. And one fact of the matter that he did know just made his stomach tighten into a hot knot so fast he thought he would wretch, but he kept up his perfect composure. Even at being told he was dead. His concern wasn't for himself right now. He was obviously fine.. as fine as anyone dead could be, as well as each member of his team. But his sister... and Sakura...
Which one had it been? The out lash of destruction and chaos had killed the young form holding the demon that destroyed Weiß...
Clearing his throat, he waited until he felt his voice was even before speaking. "Was the second summoning as... disastrous as the first... And which demon summoning did we see. Who was the host..." He honestly wasn't sure which answer he wanted to hear on which of the dark haired girls who could pose as twins had been the cause of their death, and which was still out there somewhere. Because there had been a second ritual... and there were only a certain four people who could have done that... who'd been in possession of both girls at one time.
Raising an eyebrow at the two assassins as they spoke, Tsuzuki remained standing, a solid presence besides the smaller form of the younger Shinigami. As Hisoka explained what happened in his blunt manner, he looked over the four new Shinigami, trying to determine if there was any memories of their deaths. The redhead's trouble expression underneath the mask of indifference and his hesitant words showed that at least one of them remembered.
Reaching into the inside pocket of his overcoat, Tsuzuki pulled out a folder stuffed with photocopies of official records from that night. The candy store hadn't been his only stop before coming to the Koneko; Tsuzuki had made sure that he had the facts of the evening on him just in case they got confused or needed something official looking to back up their claims. And since that night was a mess to sort out at the home office, he'd figured that not even the four newly made Shinigami would know everything. Flipping it open he paged through the various notes until he found the list of deceased.
"According to all the evidence, there were two unfortunate recipients of demons, one of which brought the temple completely down," Tsuzuki said, tapping the names with one finger. "It's believed that two hosts have still survived, though finding them is going to be hard."
Flipping to another page, he frowned faintly and handed it to Hisoka to read. It was a report about the energies of the two demons that were summoned that night from Watari's readings and the possible rank they might have been. All in all it was not good news, especially in a city of this size. Like trying to find two needles among a bunch of similar needles.
"That is the second purpose of us being here, outside of training you four in your newly awakened abilities as Shinigami. We have to find them and send the demons back where they belong."
Even keeping close to Tsuzuki had not prepared Hisoka with what was, essentially, an attack from behind. When they had settled to explain their purpose, choosing a standing location jut inside the room, the jade-eyed youth had not quite considered that one of the assassins would remain in the doorway. Effectively, it was behind his line of sight and preparation. Thus, when the news sunk into the mind of the redhead, the sudden change of mind was unexpected - despite his obvious attempt to prepare for any emotional assault.
First he felt the surprise of the information, no matter how slight. The same feeling from the other three was dealt with, this one lesser yet still present; it worked through his defences, which were set in a more forward, attentive sense. His empathy was not selective as to who it allowed to influence him, it worked with whatever managed to escape his attention to defence. Admittedly, that was sometimes a simple matter to defeat, but he did have a certain negation ability. With the fourth mind, though, it was absent, allowing that surprise to push him off balance enough that the memories Ran was experiencing were quickly played through his mind. It was a clear as though they were linked, the most vivid example of his ability to 'synchronise' with someone as he willed - though it often preferred to take him without control.
// Going into the mission alone had been an emotional hell... Knowing that all of the odds were against them and there would be hundreds or thousands of psi powered Este agents there, watching this ancient age old ritual they all had complete faith in and would do everything in their power to not see stopped. Everything lay on the shoulders of four mortals with an assortment of weapons... and they knew it. The fate of Ran's sister who he'd just always longed to protect, as well as an innocent girl drawn into this too deeply. Two they'd already failed by allowing Schwarz to get their hands on them. He never even asked his team to go... they'd had the mission to kill the Elders at the airport and had failed. That had been the last mission given. They simply went... all seeming to have undying faith that somehow if Ran was with them, everything would be fine. As it had been when he'd gone and rescued them against the Special Forces. They were the good guys. They were supposed to win. //
For a moment, Hisoka's eyes merely dropped out of focus, the young Shinigami seeming to no longer have his mind in the present. In a sense, that was true; his entire being was deeply wrapped up in the memories of the redhead. The present no longer mattered, merely the past of the mind. It was so hopeful seeming, that perhaps victory was theirs to achieve...
// And he partly believed that. And that small fragile hope had been crushed nearly as soon as they entered the temple. //
Without any attention being paid to him, few would have noticed the sudden falter in the youth's breathing, the slight tense nature that took to his shoulders as the notion of success faded. Of course they could not face the enemy, the sheer numbers present, the girl being host to the creature. It was lunacy, but still they had to. They had to find his sister.
// Using the building layout plans that they'd obtained, the four had been able to make their way through the temple without being caught by the guards, taking out the few that stood in their way and gaining more information about the details of what was going on. But as they got to the arena where the Elders were with the host body, laid out on a stone altar, it was already too late. The low arcane chanting of the ritual was still echoing in the large chamber as the dark haired girl in the white flowing dress sat up, opening her eyes which were a slitted yellow like a cat's as the demon called forth settled in the body. Everyone thought it was all going perfectly until the girl's lips parted in a low shrieking scream and her clawed hand reached out to grab the nearest Elder, his spectacles dropping to the floor as blood coated down the pure white dress and down the delicate chin of the girl's body, her fingers crushing the man's skull and dropping him to the floor. The demon wanted a little snack of carnage and destruction and blood before its full power unleashed. The next Elder as she tried to run was pulled to the girl's fragile seeming grip, more blood running, the screams of pain and evil laughing barely audible as a loud howl of the agony of hell swirled about the chamber from the open portal to the hell realm, fuelling the chaos as a vacuum seemed to be created from it, drying to draw in all the life from the living realm. Ran could only stare in horror, his katana still in his hand but utterly useless against it all. All he knew was failure and self loathing as he watched what looked to be his sister in the middle of a massacre, her pale flesh and face streaked in blood, the red fluids staining her mouth, but the demon was hardly done. It wanted more... it wanted more death. //
Tsuzuki's words of explanation were lost to Hisoka, a bead of sweat marking the youth's brow as his fingers closed involuntarily on the paper placed in his hand. To him it was not a simple sheet of information, but the same katana that was being held in Ran's grasp, or rather his now. The faint whisper of his sister's name escaped his lips, jade eyes closing as though to stop the onslaught of the demon nightmare. His free hand rose to clutch at his chest, the emotion of being useless, a failure in the midst of chaos, trying to consume him.
// Having the fuel it needed from the corrupt souls of the Elders which had called it forth, all three of their bodies dead at its feet in mangled messes of blood, the garnered energy from the telekinetic Elder now flowed through the demon's form, just for now or permanently was really an unknown. It hardly mattered to those watching. Shudders started to move through the chamber, causing marble to break from the columns and bar off all of the exits, the demon wishing for none who entered to ever escape the pit of hell this temple was now. The howling shrieks of wind that were oddly unfelt still ripped through the chamber as all was lost and the pillars started to fall in. A crushing pain on his spine was the last physical pain which the redhead of Weiß felt as everything started to go black, still hearing the sweet tones of the girl shriek in evil giggles and cackles, and all he knew was failure... everyone who'd ever meant anything was dead... simply because of him. And he's broken his promise to always protect his sister... and those who'd so selflessly helped him find her... //
Breathing heavily now, his will bound with Ran's mind for the interim, Hisoka's entire form trembled. The paper in his hand shifted with his fingers, opening a few small paper cuts that healed over just as quickly, despite the pressure of his grip. His body shook with the floor of the temple, his balance lost as he stumbled back a pace, and then another. It was all he could do to keep on his feet, or so all his sync-consumed senses were telling him. A sharp gasp broke the uneven breathing as the pain of Ran's injury ran like fire through his body. It hurt; gods it hurt, like his body had been crushed or torn in two. He couldn't tell though, there was too much darkness around; all he knew was that it hurt. Gods, the pain...
// And then there was black. //
The air he had been breathing caught in his throat, green eyes opening again with a look of shock as the feel of the other's mind finally grew separate from his own again. Unsteady on his feet, Hisoka barely managed to turn enough to stare at Ran, the horror of their shared vision still haunting his eyes. It was the price of his empathy; the strongest visions claimed his mind, and his energy. As enlightening as they were on occasion, their toll was more than sufficient. And it with the vivid nature of Ran's recollection, Hisoka hardly stood a chance; it was impossible to withstand the death of another. With the memory of death, he 'died' as well, though far more temporary than the other's had been - it was more like falling to sleep suddenly and unintentionally. Then, as he had just relived through Ran's mind, the darkness consumed him as his body fell to the ground.
Footnotes:
And the posting of this chapter is on time. Hope you enjoyed. As per usual, reviews and comments are appreciated.
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