Angra Mainyu
Arc One - Arrival - Part Six
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They were dead?
Cursed - or was that blessed? - by a certain ability to simply wipe all trauma from his mind, something that his death and the Summoner's Division protection of him after it worked well with, Omi was not as 'fortunate' as the others to have even the slightest flashback of the ritual. In his dreams, yes, he had been recalling odd moments and cherry blossoms, but for the most part he had only a very expansive black and blank stretch of memory that was the mission they had gone on. Had it not been for the others speaking of it the next day, Omi would have likely gone on without the memory of that failed memory.
Lost as he was, Omi did not just accept the matter as it was, his mind working logically at explaining their supposed deaths away as anything but. Even with the explanation, it didn't just fall into sense as to how they were dead or alive. Honestly, without proof he wasn't quite sure what to think. Death would, perhaps, be a suitable explanation for a large chunk of his memories missing; but to die and still be alive? That was unreal. Wasn't it?
"We're dead?" he repeated, disbelief tainting the edge of his words.
Further questions about how that was possible, or for proof of their death - and subsequent new lives - found themselves stilled in his throat as the younger of the visitors stumbled back. Soft blue eyes quickly shifted their attention to the other blonde, concern filtering into the sky-like irises. Years of training and wariness held him from immediately moving to the other's side for assistance, but he did stand up, putting the gun he'd been holding onto the arm of the chair.
"Is he okay?" he asked, flickering his gaze to Tsuzuki as well. "What's going on? What happened?"
A puzzled glance was given to Hisoka as Watari's meticulous notes were crumbled in his hand. Shock then understanding crossed Tsuzuki's face, the older Shinigami dropping the folder to wrap his arms around his smaller partner, cradling his unconscious form before he fell to the ground. Looking around, he spotted an unused couch and walked over to it, being careful of the slender blond in his arms. Laying him down on the couch, Tsuzuki smooth back his hair from Hisoka's face, his touch feather light. Then remembering the others in the room, he took a seat on the floor by the couch, taking Hisoka's hand in his and rubbing the back in soft circles to calm him out of his unconscious state.
"He'll be fine," Tsuzuki said, the worry chased out of his amethyst eyes, having an idea of what may have happened. "Hisoka has empathic abilities. He normally is able to filter out unwanted emotions but strong ones, like anger or fear can send him for a loop. I am guessing that one of you remember that night and he just experienced it with you. He should come out of it soon."
Looking up at Omi, Tsuzuki nodded, resting his back against the couch, folding his legs underneath him to rest comfortably. "You are dead, in a way. Shinigami are people who have unfinished business with the living which allows them to travel between the two worlds and interact among the living in order to follow their investigations. But, everyone that knew you believes you are dead. Or they soon will do so. It's for your protection as well as theirs, I guess the same way things changed for you four when you joined Kritiker. And as soon as you start training, you'll be given places to stay and yes, you do get paid as Shinigami unless you do something stupid like well, tear down the Libraries twice."
Fighting down the colour on his fair skin as he remembered exactly why he was still a lowly Shinigami even though he was one of the most powerful out there. And why he never was able to go on paid vacations or get bonuses like the other Shinigami could. But it was his own stupid fault really. He should have gotten that guy the first time around instead of having to try for him twice.
With everyone seeming to confirm the statement that they were dead, Ken fell into a quiet daze trying to remember it.
Death...
Dead...
Blood. Mangled severed limbs. Corpses all around as far as he could see in the dim light.
The bodies of his teammates who'd fallen mere moments before him. Dead. Ripped apart, crushed beyond all recognition save for their clothing.
He was alone. They were dead.
And he was standing face to face with the demon who'd done it. Sakura or not he was going to destroy that thing even if he died trying.
And die he had. Filled with the pain anger and loss of the only family he had, rage and passion and thirst for this demon's blood fuelling his energy, he'd leapt into the air ready to take the head of the beast, or gut it. His purpose had been to obliterate.
In the end it had been futile. The last thing he remembered was an excruciating pain as is body seemed to implode beneath his skin and before he had a chance to scream...
He was dead.
With the memory of his death returning, a crazed look flit though his sea-kissed eyes, darkening them with hate and malice. Those very same eyes fixed themselves upon Aya. An angry snarl distorted his lips and before he could stop himself he found himself lunging toward the redhead fist at the ready. "YOU BASTARD! We're dead... because of you... because we wanted to rescue YOUR sister. We failed to bring your sister. We failed to rescue Sakura and because of you there's a demon running rampant in Tokyo and we're fucking dead!"
Distracted from peering in mild confusion at Hisoka, remembering the look the boy had given him and feeling a bit guilty that his vivid recollection had been the cause of that for-the-moment shared pain, Ran glanced up as he heard the heavy quick footfalls. Not even blinking as Ken barrelled towards him in a very physical form of anger directed at him and loathing, the man dropped his katana before instincts could urge him to use it against the one attacking him. Lifting his hand, he caught the man's fist before it could strike his face, for once glad of the practice he had with that against Crawford.
"Face fucking facts, Siberian, we're all dead. We all knew the risks of every single mission we went on, and we knew this one was a suicide run. No one said it but we -knew- it by the few but depressing facts we were given. If you were frightened of the chance of dying you shouldn't have gone. At least we didn't take the coward's way out... even if it didn't do a bit of good." Tightening his fingers on Ken's fist he met eyes with those storming aqua depths before glancing away, pushing the man away from him with his arm. He didn't want the man to see the self loathing and guilt that was barely hidden in his eyes, the man's accusations just darkening those feelings in his irises behind the ice. "You knew the risks. So don't blame me." He did that enough for all of them.
Releasing his teammate's hand, he bent down to pick up his katana and turned to go up the stairs back to their living... ha, living... quarters without another word. One of their 'guides' was unconscious and needed a nap, the other probably thought they were crazy. They were obviously not getting anything else accomplished tonight. He needed time to himself to take all of this in... and get away from them before he did something he would regret. Or just made Ken hate him more than he did already. And he didn't want to look at the other two members of Weiß to see if they blamed him as well, not thinking he could easily handle if the loss and loathing that had been in turquoise eyes was also in the emerald and sapphire, and it was directed at him.
Squeezing the tip of his cigarette with his fingers, Youji deposited it back into his pack before rising to help the fallen Ken up. "I understand why you did it. But it was still a stupid thing to do."
He sighed and bent over to pick up the quivering mass of angry Siberian into his arms. He felt the younger man wriggle in protest but his anger spent and deflated at Aya's words. That much Youji was sure of. His own death... he didn't dwell on. Not really caring to relive it like Aya and Ken obviously had. He turned quietly to Omi and the two Shinigami. "I'm going to take him up to bed. I'll see you all in the morning. If you two don't have any place to go, you're welcome to stay here. Just... ahh... ask Omi." He gave the youth an apologetic smile hating to leave so much to Omi, but no one else seemed to be able to handle Ken when he was like this. He'd hoped someday Aya would be able to... but that didn't seem likely anymore.
Saying little else, Youji followed Aya upstairs and turned toward Ken's room still carrying the trembling brunette in his arms.
--
Rising smoothly from the couch, Brad walked over to the door, mentally counting the seconds to pull open the door for when Muraki arrives. Dark caramel eyes glanced over to Aya with a smug look in them, a smirk touching the corners of his lips. Schwarz has been a team for a long enough time that the members actually anticipate the wishes of each other, knowing what to do for the group as a whole, instead of just plain survival of the individual. That was what made them function in a far more superior manner than the rest of their former employers.
"Schuldig has already taken care of that," he stated with a shrug of powerful shoulders, eyes glancing over to the albino as he slinked back into the room. "Where's Nagi?"
Sinking down into his spot again, Farfarello picked up his knives and secreted them back into their spots against his body, his single eye glancing at Aya before drifting away again. Raising a shoulder at the voice of his leader, he answered blandly, "Sleeping. I thought to let him rest."
Accepting the answer, Brad opened the door, the time just right so that the elevator doors right across from the penthouse door was sliding open as well. Taking in the pristine white outfit, similar in colour as his own business suit, Brad nodded his head in greeting before opening the door fully.
"Welcome, Doctor Muraki. Do come in."
Welcomed by a rather expected conclusion of his appearance in comparison to the expected visitor. Muraki had expected no less of the group, even with the fluctuating views on their abilities that he was forming as their short-lived exposure to one another slowly grew. As with any good, practised surgeon, Muraki was setting nothing in stone - especially not so early into their introductions. Some things in life always changed, and a doctor had to be ready to recognise new symptoms and re-evaluate their original diagnosis if need became; the same sort of thing applied to person-to-person relations.
"Crawford," he acknowledged, needing no words or further clues to associate who the supposed leader of the group was. Of the four of this odd Schwarz group, Crawford was the business man; of him there existed enough evidence of existence for appearance to be a known. Security tapes of high profile clients and their offices, as rare as they could prove, allowed that. Crawford was always there, the negotiator and speaker for the other three. He was already known to Muraki's eyes - it was the other three, and the lovely summoned creature of hell, that he wanted to meet and confirm the identities of.
Stepping into the penthouse, his silver gaze slowly taking in the decorations, forming a slight opinion of the occupants based on the choice and position of furniture - make no mistake, he was hardly an expert in this psychology, he merely made guesses according to experience - Muraki kept a very careful mental file on the group within his mind. "So this is the illustrious home of the summoners of the great creature from beyond," he said smoothly, bringing his slate gaze to rest upon the girl next to the window. "And this young lady must be the host of that power. Such a beautiful body for it, my choice for the spell was founded well."
Thankfully, modesty was never a trait much associated to Muraki.
The demoness just chuckled faintly in response to the leader of Schwarz's little smug smile sent her way. He really was a foolish little human, so smug with his arrogance and confident in his near godly powers. She did find it amusing that even with his all-powerful visions of the future, he hadn't seen that Muraki had been coming and thought to make arrangements to take care of it long in advance. It had been her prompting that their visitor was here that made the telepath take care of things at the very last minute. Sometimes she wondered if he would take credit for things that happened that others did and simply say 'oh, I knew that would be done'. Quaint.
Of course she was a demoness from the very pits of hell and there was very little about humanity that impressed her. Save their abilities to be used, manipulated, led by a string, and destroyed. Brad seemed the type of man who was used to being the manipulator. A light smirk touched on her lips as she eyed him coolly and she then looked away to see their guest as the door opened. Every human really was a bug, and in time, every human had the same fate. To be crushed. Something she really wanted to get started on, soon.
Isn't she just a sweet little being to know.
Raising a slender hand, she twirled the tip of her braid about a finger, staring evenly at the doctor as he entered the penthouse. Still looking at him curiously, she perched herself to sit on the edge of the window. No sweet demure blush of modesty touched her cheeks at his compliment to her form. It fit the purposes, though she was quite fond of the innocent appearance her host body put forth which could have people never expect what was truly there to be there. And who could ever harm or think to be evil such a sweet wide- eyed girl?
"It shall do for the purposes I need," she replied, nodding in faint greeting as she took in the man's appearance. A dark eyebrow crooked at the man's comment and she smiled darkly, deep midnight blue meeting with silver.
This meeting may perhaps be quite intriguing.
"Please make yourself comfortable," Brad told the doctor, closing the door and turning back to the living room. Instead of returning to his seat, the American remained standing, dark eyes flickering to glance around the room at the others before focusing on Muraki.
"Miss Aya does make a good host for our visitor," Brad added, his deep tones sounded faintly amused. Whether it was amusement from the fact that his Weiß counterpart's sister was now their key to their goal or the fact that the demoness felt superior than the rest of the people in the room. Brad was not particularly phased by being looked down by other people, having been looked down all through his life by one group or another. Why would he find one more being's smugness wreck his plans?
"I am afraid that Nagi is unable to join us at the moment. He is sleeping and I do not think that he needs his rest disturbed. Since you know my name, it is reasonable to assume you know the other's names, but you may never have seen them since they tend to stay in the background. Schuldig is the young man setting on the couch, and Farfarello is the one stretched out on the floor."
//Of course I had fun,// Farfarello replied, finally deciding that he could handle replying to the German. His swirling emotions right after a kill were not something for a telepath to delve into too deeply, the mixture of rapture, bloodlust, rage and sadness that always hit him when the last breath escapes the lips of his victim especially strong. It was something that Farfarello felt was completely his own and did not feel that he needed to share it with the German telepath around. //As you knew I would. She tasted sweet.//
Tilting his head, he regarded the man Crawford allowed into their suite, his single amber eye showing nothing, no emotion, only a calm, serene acceptance of his presence. No anger, no regret, nothing but a calmness akin to time itself.
"The Demonchild is what it is, only the flesh is different," he stated, his voice soft and as expressionless as his face, his accent muted. "To profess it to be anything other than what its truth is, is to court with disaster."
Amusing.
To be honest, Muraki never tired of the trick he had just used upon the smug American. Feed a human a little bit of information and they would, without fail, provide a wealth of it in reply. It was amusing how quickly they could and would assume the nature of the knowledge their visitor held. In the current case, Muraki had indeed known suggestions of Schwarz's names, but seeing as Crawford was the only prominent dealer, he'd only had haphazard guesses as to the identities of the others. He would have to thank the precognitive male later for clarifying it for him.
"Pleasure to meet you then, Miss Aya," he said, keeping his voice smooth and cool. A slight bow was offered to the female form, respectful tribute to the beauty, and the power hosted within. After which he shifted his gaze to Schuldig. "The mind-reader, I presume," he continued, arching a brow curiously. "Tell me, Schuldig, how deeply can you delve into the mind of another?" Without pause for confirmation, he looked to Farfarello, allowing a simple and unthreatening smile to touch his lips. "And Farfarello. you must not judge so harshly the host of such power. Miss Aya is the reason you have an immortality that even the gods envy; or should, if you listened to a speck of the information I left for you."
Letting the Irishman absorb those words, Muraki directed his attention back to Crawford, noting the man's posture, his tone. Every little thing possible was stored to mind, for later use in his little games. "The time has come where our meeting was inevitable," he spoke up, his smile turning a touch more shadowed as his mind worked on the possibilities of the future. "Our goals may not align right now, but I think we could all benefit from an alliance. Our powers would compliment and further one another on our specific paths."
While seeming to be effecting a bored air about him, Schuldig was indeed paying close attention to everything going about him. He hadn't survived as long as he had by being ignorant. Of course that didn't explain how the kitties had survived as long as they had... but then again, they were now dead and he immortal. The telepath held no delusions that could not be killed, however. It would just be very difficult.
Green eyes studied their guest as the man studied each of them in turn, asking questions but giving no room for him to answer. No matter. Schuldig didn't really care for the fellow anyway. The man full of himself, yet at the same time was very, very dangerous. Someone to be wary of. Someone to sit back and watch and just go with the flow of whatever was in the best interest of Schwarz. If that meant behaving like his puppet for a while, so be it. Nothing new there.
While he may whine and piss and moan about it, the only person Schuldig truly answered to was Crawford. So if Crawford said they were to do what this Muraki wanted in order to achieve their goal and form the alliance he asked for, then he would. With much bitching.
Raising an eyebrow at the doctor, Farfarello's full lips parted, showing teeth more animal than human, the rare dark grin accompanied by a low throaty laugh. Farfarello had little faith in the icons and truths behind his failed God, and he had little care now for the demon now inside the Doll in their care. Power never impressed him, and he was not too impressed by the immortality that he had been granted. Even before the Demon awoke, he didn't feel the pain nor was he easily felled by the blows of others on him. True his body recovered slower than now but Farfarello was still unimpressed. Until he saw the promises delivered, he will continue to question the Demon. He felt that faith was only for those who were not strong enough to accept the truth of their own limits.
"One can have the power of the universe and still be felled by a single stone," he said softly, his eye fixated on Muraki's face. "This immortality only goes so far and the gods will weep regardless of who is granted long life."
"Farfarello."
Looking up at Crawford, the Irishman's eye narrowed, the colour of his amber eye a swirling chaos of thoughts as he met the steady cold cocoa coloured eyes of his leader. Then he shrugged, looking away and pulling a knife from a hidden sheath, bring the weapon to his lips to nibble reflexively on the tip.
Satisfied that Farfarello will let the matter rest for the moment, Crawford adjusted his glasses and raised an eyebrow at the doctor's vague words. From what Nagi and Schuldig had found out about Muraki, the more he knew that the white haired male was like him, another manipulative person who easily moved through life using others as pawns in his games. And with Este cleared from the board, no doubt Schwarz was going to be the next pawns if he did not watch their next moves.
"Why don't you explain how our goals could work together, Doctor Muraki."
Footnotes:
There is a little grey kitten asleep on my lap as I type this. Thought you oughta know.
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