Angel
I heard this song for the first time in a while, I've always thought it was pretty (it's also one of those annoying songs that gets stuck in your head!) but this was the first time I'd heard it since I got into Weiss and ohmigod I got hit with an Omi deathfic. Sorry Omi fans! Please R & R!!!!
Disclaimer: I don't own Omi, I don't own the song 'Angel' (by Sarah McLachlan)
Shivering in the cold night air the 17-year-old assassin cursed his lack of warm clothing and thought longingly of the jacket thrown over the back of a chair back home. He glanced at his surroundings before shivering again and slinking through the midnight shadows, slowly, slowly, towards his target.
He had failed to nail this guy the last time, something that Aya-kun still hadn't forgiven him for, he wondered briefly why Aya-kun had sent him out on his own again, when he had failed the last time. It was too late to worry about that now, he had a job to do.
Spend all your time waiting
For that second chance
He swept his bangs out of his eyes with one hand, his crossbow held firmly in the other. He crept slowly closer, he had to get closer, he would never hit him from this range.
Why was he doing this? Not for the first time he wondered, why did he put himself through this week after week, month after month - playing death's game, he was sick and tired of being cold and wet and in pain all the time but still having to go on because he knew that if he didn't help one of his friends might die. there was no second chance in this game, it was all or nothing.
The break that would make it ok
The target was a known contact of Takatori's, a suspected informant. The guy pulled something out of his pocket, Omi squinted his eyes to try and see what it was.a phone. He muttered something at it before pocketing it. A drizzle of rain began to fall and Omi cursed it, of all the nights it had to rain, it had to be the one he left without a jacket! 'Gimme a break! Anything would be nice, just let me kill him so I can go home!'
There's always some reason To feel not good
The cold started to seep into him, every drop of the icy rain on his skin seemed to touch his very bones. The hand holding his crossbow was slowly going numb. 'Great, just what I need, now even if I do get close enough to the bastard I won't be able to shoot him!' He shivered yet again and felt the goosebumps race across his skin and shuddered as a trickle of rain trickled down the back of his neck.
And it's hard at the end of the day
He forced his aching muscles to move, knowing that he had to be quiet, any sound could get him killed, or worse, he could lose the target - again. It was so cold and he was so damn tired.
He clenched his hand tighter on the crossbow as the target moved a little way towards him, so close to being in range that it was tearing the youngest Weiss member apart, so damn close! Omi cursed his position, he was at the very edge of the shadows, a streetlight was just ahead, he couldn't go any further, not unless he wanted to risk getting killed. So damn close.
I need some distractions (oh yes) Memories seep through my veins
Damn him! He moved into the street again, Omi sighed. This was pathetic, he should be hanging out with his friends.or hacking into someone's personal files. Not crouching in the freezing rain, at the dead of night, trying to will a guy, that he'd never met before in his life, to come towards his so that he could murder him. What kind of a life is that?! The sad thing was, he couldn't even remember a time when he wasn't living this kind of life.had it really been that long?
But then it may be empty Oh, weightless and maybe I'll find some peace tonight
Omi snapped back to reality, the sooner he finished this the sooner he could go home and tell Aya-kun that he'd done it. He'd killed someone. Was that really something to be proud of?
He refocused on the street and his eyes widened, the target was gone. Holy shit he'd lost the target! He swore and spun around and bolted off down the alley's length.
You're in the arms of the angel Fly away from here
Omi felt his breath catch in fear, number one rule - never, ever, take your eyes off the target! He'd just broken it, if he lost this now his name would be worse than mud. He cursed his numb legs, fingers.dammit! It even felt like his lungs had gone numb. He slid a little on the wet concrete as he reached the end of the alley, trying in vain to grip the brick wall next to him, to no avail. With a slam he hit the concrete and felt the breath fly from his lungs.
From this dark hotel room And the endless fears that you feel
He tasted blood on his lip and saw the dark liquid on his hands. So used to seeing it staining his hands he didn't react until a thought occurred to him, 'Shit. My grip! How the hell can I grip my crossbow when it's already wet and I've got blood on my hands?!' He scrambled to his feet, he felt vulnerable on his back. He hastily wiped his hands on his sides, trying desperately to remove the sticky ooze that was covering his hands. It scared him that he was getting so tired and cold that it was effecting his reflexes and performance. That could cost him his life and he knew it.
You are pulled from the wreckage Of your silent reverie
He picked up his crossbow and the palm of his hand stung where the wood pressed into his newly formed wound. He crouched a little, trying to loosen up his cramping knees, before he cast his eyes around the street before him. The street he had almost slid into. There was still no sign of the target. Omi shook his head bitterly, even if the target had been around here, the bastard would have heard his noisy little fall. Anyone in the surrounding area would have. Damn it, damn it all! Damn having to be quiet all the time, damn creeping around in the freezing cold.typical, the rain started coming down harder, just typical.
You're in the arms of the angel May you find, some comfort here
Omi sighed and weighed the crossbow in his hand, it's one bolt secured, he had only brought one, it was relatively straight forward, find the guy, get in range, shoot. The guy dies in a pool of blood and the tired little kitten gets to go home and sleep for an hour or so before school the next day. Omi shivered again, thoughts of bed were sounding, very, very tempting right now. Standing in the freezing rain, soaked to the skin, in a dark alleyway at some godforsaken hour. What he wouldn't do for a cup of coffee.
So tired of the street life And everywhere you turn
Omi tightened his grip on the crossbow as best he could and noted that his fingers had gone blue, he no longer cared. He started to walk down the narrow, dark little alleyway. He'd check the other end again before thinking about his next move. His feet landed in inky puddles that splashed up, sending orbs of ebony water flying through the air before they met the ground again. He knew he couldn't relax, he'd already made enough noise. He had to find this target.he didn't want to run around the streets on a mad goose chase trying to find this guy. He was just so tired, tired of the cold, tired of the rain, tired of this job, tired of.everything.
There's vultures and thieves at your back Storm keeps on twisting
Then he heard it, a giggle. A distinct giggle. He spun around, every muscle screaming in the pain of moving so fast, he ignored it. There was nothing behind him, he glanced frantically around him, above, sideways, behind him again. There was nothing. He heard it again and swore, it was inside his mind . oh no, not now! Not now of all times! He wasn't happy with meeting any member of Schwarz at any time, but he particularly didn't like it when it was cold, wet, he was tired, alone and only had one bolt in his crossbow.
Keep on building the lies That you've made up for all that you lack
He heard a sound that made his blood run cold. The sound of a gun being loaded and readied. It echoed through the deserted alley and Omi felt his heart stop, his breath catch. Another giggle and the image of a gun searing into his mind. A gunshot rang though behind his eyes and he flinched before skittering across the wet concrete. Realising too late that it was only in his mind. He flicked his eyes sideways and saw a figure melting out of the shadows.
Don't make no difference Escaping one last time
Omi spun around and lifted his crossbow in one swift, practiced motion. His arms shook with the effort and his eyes narrowed as he saw the orange- haired German melt out of the shadows with a sadistic smile slowly spreading across his face. Omi's arm shook harder and he tried vainly to hold them steady, he had one shot, one shot, just one shot. The German raised his gun and lay a practiced eye on Omi. Omi steadied his stance, wishing for the millionth time that he wasn't so cold, wishing he was anywhere else but here.
It's easier to believe But in this sweet madness
Omi focused his attention solely on what he could control, he knew the German was toying with him, enjoying his fearful thoughts. The shaking worsened and he swore, he had to stop worrying about that, 'I've done this hundreds of times before, why am I cracking now?' Suddenly he was desperately fighting the urge to yawn, instead he shivered as the rain splashed down over him. If he made it out of here alive he knew it would be weeks before he was fully dry. Odd thoughts, really, to have when you're staring at a German assassin pointing a loaded gun at you . insanity, that's what this was - that's what this whole life was, insanity.
Oh, this glorious sadness That brings me to my knees
The German smiled at him,
"Auf Wiedersehn Kätzchen."
The gun- shot took him by surprise, even though he had known it was coming. The German shot again and again. The 17-year-old realised too late that he had waited too long. He felt the bullets thud into him, sending blood flying. He gasped in surprise as the searing pain ripped through him, once, twice, three times. His arms dropped and the crossbow clattered, useless in the end, onto the concrete as Omi felt his knees give way and slam into the ground.
In the arms of the angel Fly away from here
The orange haired Schwarz assassin watched him fall with a smile, before placing the gun back in his pocket, turning and walking down the alley. That was too easy.
Omi placed a hand against is stomach and felt the fluid gushing out of the three holes. Spilling between his fingers as he tried in vain to stem the flow, knowing that he was dying. Knowing, knowing.
From this dark hotel room And the endlessness that you feel
Suddenly it didn't hurt any more, he gasped as the final breath left his body and he slumped down, face first onto the wet concrete. The rain coursing down over his limp form, washing the blood away. But still it flowed. His long lashed eyes fluttered closed, he was warm now.
You are pulled from the wreckage Of your silent reverie
A single drop of rain settled on the dead assassins black lashes, like a single tear that had never been shed. He lay, peaceful and looking like an innocent angel in the blackened alleyway with the freezing cold rain pelting his limp form.
You're in the arms of the angel May you find some comfort here
I heard this song for the first time in a while, I've always thought it was pretty (it's also one of those annoying songs that gets stuck in your head!) but this was the first time I'd heard it since I got into Weiss and ohmigod I got hit with an Omi deathfic. Sorry Omi fans! Please R & R!!!!
Disclaimer: I don't own Omi, I don't own the song 'Angel' (by Sarah McLachlan)
Shivering in the cold night air the 17-year-old assassin cursed his lack of warm clothing and thought longingly of the jacket thrown over the back of a chair back home. He glanced at his surroundings before shivering again and slinking through the midnight shadows, slowly, slowly, towards his target.
He had failed to nail this guy the last time, something that Aya-kun still hadn't forgiven him for, he wondered briefly why Aya-kun had sent him out on his own again, when he had failed the last time. It was too late to worry about that now, he had a job to do.
Spend all your time waiting
For that second chance
He swept his bangs out of his eyes with one hand, his crossbow held firmly in the other. He crept slowly closer, he had to get closer, he would never hit him from this range.
Why was he doing this? Not for the first time he wondered, why did he put himself through this week after week, month after month - playing death's game, he was sick and tired of being cold and wet and in pain all the time but still having to go on because he knew that if he didn't help one of his friends might die. there was no second chance in this game, it was all or nothing.
The break that would make it ok
The target was a known contact of Takatori's, a suspected informant. The guy pulled something out of his pocket, Omi squinted his eyes to try and see what it was.a phone. He muttered something at it before pocketing it. A drizzle of rain began to fall and Omi cursed it, of all the nights it had to rain, it had to be the one he left without a jacket! 'Gimme a break! Anything would be nice, just let me kill him so I can go home!'
There's always some reason To feel not good
The cold started to seep into him, every drop of the icy rain on his skin seemed to touch his very bones. The hand holding his crossbow was slowly going numb. 'Great, just what I need, now even if I do get close enough to the bastard I won't be able to shoot him!' He shivered yet again and felt the goosebumps race across his skin and shuddered as a trickle of rain trickled down the back of his neck.
And it's hard at the end of the day
He forced his aching muscles to move, knowing that he had to be quiet, any sound could get him killed, or worse, he could lose the target - again. It was so cold and he was so damn tired.
He clenched his hand tighter on the crossbow as the target moved a little way towards him, so close to being in range that it was tearing the youngest Weiss member apart, so damn close! Omi cursed his position, he was at the very edge of the shadows, a streetlight was just ahead, he couldn't go any further, not unless he wanted to risk getting killed. So damn close.
I need some distractions (oh yes) Memories seep through my veins
Damn him! He moved into the street again, Omi sighed. This was pathetic, he should be hanging out with his friends.or hacking into someone's personal files. Not crouching in the freezing rain, at the dead of night, trying to will a guy, that he'd never met before in his life, to come towards his so that he could murder him. What kind of a life is that?! The sad thing was, he couldn't even remember a time when he wasn't living this kind of life.had it really been that long?
But then it may be empty Oh, weightless and maybe I'll find some peace tonight
Omi snapped back to reality, the sooner he finished this the sooner he could go home and tell Aya-kun that he'd done it. He'd killed someone. Was that really something to be proud of?
He refocused on the street and his eyes widened, the target was gone. Holy shit he'd lost the target! He swore and spun around and bolted off down the alley's length.
You're in the arms of the angel Fly away from here
Omi felt his breath catch in fear, number one rule - never, ever, take your eyes off the target! He'd just broken it, if he lost this now his name would be worse than mud. He cursed his numb legs, fingers.dammit! It even felt like his lungs had gone numb. He slid a little on the wet concrete as he reached the end of the alley, trying in vain to grip the brick wall next to him, to no avail. With a slam he hit the concrete and felt the breath fly from his lungs.
From this dark hotel room And the endless fears that you feel
He tasted blood on his lip and saw the dark liquid on his hands. So used to seeing it staining his hands he didn't react until a thought occurred to him, 'Shit. My grip! How the hell can I grip my crossbow when it's already wet and I've got blood on my hands?!' He scrambled to his feet, he felt vulnerable on his back. He hastily wiped his hands on his sides, trying desperately to remove the sticky ooze that was covering his hands. It scared him that he was getting so tired and cold that it was effecting his reflexes and performance. That could cost him his life and he knew it.
You are pulled from the wreckage Of your silent reverie
He picked up his crossbow and the palm of his hand stung where the wood pressed into his newly formed wound. He crouched a little, trying to loosen up his cramping knees, before he cast his eyes around the street before him. The street he had almost slid into. There was still no sign of the target. Omi shook his head bitterly, even if the target had been around here, the bastard would have heard his noisy little fall. Anyone in the surrounding area would have. Damn it, damn it all! Damn having to be quiet all the time, damn creeping around in the freezing cold.typical, the rain started coming down harder, just typical.
You're in the arms of the angel May you find, some comfort here
Omi sighed and weighed the crossbow in his hand, it's one bolt secured, he had only brought one, it was relatively straight forward, find the guy, get in range, shoot. The guy dies in a pool of blood and the tired little kitten gets to go home and sleep for an hour or so before school the next day. Omi shivered again, thoughts of bed were sounding, very, very tempting right now. Standing in the freezing rain, soaked to the skin, in a dark alleyway at some godforsaken hour. What he wouldn't do for a cup of coffee.
So tired of the street life And everywhere you turn
Omi tightened his grip on the crossbow as best he could and noted that his fingers had gone blue, he no longer cared. He started to walk down the narrow, dark little alleyway. He'd check the other end again before thinking about his next move. His feet landed in inky puddles that splashed up, sending orbs of ebony water flying through the air before they met the ground again. He knew he couldn't relax, he'd already made enough noise. He had to find this target.he didn't want to run around the streets on a mad goose chase trying to find this guy. He was just so tired, tired of the cold, tired of the rain, tired of this job, tired of.everything.
There's vultures and thieves at your back Storm keeps on twisting
Then he heard it, a giggle. A distinct giggle. He spun around, every muscle screaming in the pain of moving so fast, he ignored it. There was nothing behind him, he glanced frantically around him, above, sideways, behind him again. There was nothing. He heard it again and swore, it was inside his mind . oh no, not now! Not now of all times! He wasn't happy with meeting any member of Schwarz at any time, but he particularly didn't like it when it was cold, wet, he was tired, alone and only had one bolt in his crossbow.
Keep on building the lies That you've made up for all that you lack
He heard a sound that made his blood run cold. The sound of a gun being loaded and readied. It echoed through the deserted alley and Omi felt his heart stop, his breath catch. Another giggle and the image of a gun searing into his mind. A gunshot rang though behind his eyes and he flinched before skittering across the wet concrete. Realising too late that it was only in his mind. He flicked his eyes sideways and saw a figure melting out of the shadows.
Don't make no difference Escaping one last time
Omi spun around and lifted his crossbow in one swift, practiced motion. His arms shook with the effort and his eyes narrowed as he saw the orange- haired German melt out of the shadows with a sadistic smile slowly spreading across his face. Omi's arm shook harder and he tried vainly to hold them steady, he had one shot, one shot, just one shot. The German raised his gun and lay a practiced eye on Omi. Omi steadied his stance, wishing for the millionth time that he wasn't so cold, wishing he was anywhere else but here.
It's easier to believe But in this sweet madness
Omi focused his attention solely on what he could control, he knew the German was toying with him, enjoying his fearful thoughts. The shaking worsened and he swore, he had to stop worrying about that, 'I've done this hundreds of times before, why am I cracking now?' Suddenly he was desperately fighting the urge to yawn, instead he shivered as the rain splashed down over him. If he made it out of here alive he knew it would be weeks before he was fully dry. Odd thoughts, really, to have when you're staring at a German assassin pointing a loaded gun at you . insanity, that's what this was - that's what this whole life was, insanity.
Oh, this glorious sadness That brings me to my knees
The German smiled at him,
"Auf Wiedersehn Kätzchen."
The gun- shot took him by surprise, even though he had known it was coming. The German shot again and again. The 17-year-old realised too late that he had waited too long. He felt the bullets thud into him, sending blood flying. He gasped in surprise as the searing pain ripped through him, once, twice, three times. His arms dropped and the crossbow clattered, useless in the end, onto the concrete as Omi felt his knees give way and slam into the ground.
In the arms of the angel Fly away from here
The orange haired Schwarz assassin watched him fall with a smile, before placing the gun back in his pocket, turning and walking down the alley. That was too easy.
Omi placed a hand against is stomach and felt the fluid gushing out of the three holes. Spilling between his fingers as he tried in vain to stem the flow, knowing that he was dying. Knowing, knowing.
From this dark hotel room And the endlessness that you feel
Suddenly it didn't hurt any more, he gasped as the final breath left his body and he slumped down, face first onto the wet concrete. The rain coursing down over his limp form, washing the blood away. But still it flowed. His long lashed eyes fluttered closed, he was warm now.
You are pulled from the wreckage Of your silent reverie
A single drop of rain settled on the dead assassins black lashes, like a single tear that had never been shed. He lay, peaceful and looking like an innocent angel in the blackened alleyway with the freezing cold rain pelting his limp form.
You're in the arms of the angel May you find some comfort here