Disclaimer: Don't own any of the healing items/ summons/ jobs, those are Squaresofts. This is non-profit fun.
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He felt like Meth had just ripped out his heartno it was more like Meth had just commanded his heart to stop beating, leaving him paralyzed in wake of such a surge of information. Dreadfully fantastic news that suddenly summed up everything into a ball of nothing meant to wrench his core, which it did with that same efficiency Ashen was trained to have. Ironic, isn't it?
That all his life was, irony, utter irony. A summoner raised to kill other summoners using the souls of other summoners. Never permitted to die even when he wanted too. Then when he finally found a reason to live she was killed, an order from his former employer. Now with the abilities that former employer, that false father, learned off of him, the soul of his love is now protecting her killer from her avenger.
His eyes rolled to her once more, that hovering form with a dead face. His red eyes seemed to plead for remembrance. Just a little light in her green orbs that would let him know she knew who he was and what they had. However, only her empty gaze penetrated him, though she wasn't trying to; inside she had no thought save the word of her master.
"She won't remember you," Meth had read his look, "Those who experience such a painful death forget who they were." His own eyes traveled to the ethereal being, in response her hollow green eyes looked down to his; it was a mechanical reaction to which he smiled, "It took me over ten years to find her, the efforts would have been useless if she wasn't a blank slate."
That's why he had the monastery destroyed. That's why he had Tenth kill her the way he did. It all made sickening sense, an answer to his question and yet he wished never to know such an answer.
He watched her, the fog rolling beneath her, the richly decorated oriental garments she wore, the blue geisha make-up on her hauntingly beautiful face; it all held a hint of sadness as if the tragedy that befell her lingered over in her passing. His mind traveled back in time to the sweet innocent girl he loved so much. That happy smile she held when she said his name, the bright sparkle in her eyes full of life and hope, the healing sound of her voice; it was nothing like this hollow shell before him and yet they were the same soul.
The terrible thought occurred to him. This holy woman, who served heaven all her life, would never see it. She was stolen from heaven. No, heaven was stolen from her. She was torn from her rest just as she was torn from this world, all to serve this selfish man's lust for power.
He wanted to cry, cry for them both; for his life and for her afterlife, they were both robbed. But the tears wouldn't come, and though he was mad, the anger clawing at his chest, he did not scream nor lash out. His eyes fell to the floor at the foot of the mahogany desk, amongst the broken shards of tinted glass.
"I hate you" the words sounded hoarse and jaded to the older man who's gaze tore from the new weapon he adored to the old one he had just broken. He smiled again.
"You don't hate me, you hate yourself."
"Yes, I hate myself for everything I've donebut I hate you for what you've done to her. I hate you for her, because she can't hate you herself." Gradually his voice began to gain firmness to it and his eyes lifted to lock with the other man's. A fiery hatred bled into them as they cut into Meth.
A slight air passed through the older man's teeth, a condescending sound, "Please Ashen, spare me the melodramaYou're as much a demon as I am."
"I may be a demon, but at least I'm not the devil himself." Ashen's vocals took on a venomous tone.
The humor he once found in this bizarre reunion was slowly turning into vexation; "You really have suffered training breakdown haven't you?" The older man pinched the bridge of his nose right between his eyes; he closed them briefly to let out a long sigh. The hand left his nose to linger as a gesture in the air. His eyes opened half lidded, consuming his face in a look that expressed how silly he thought this boy was being, "I don't see why you're so upset about this. She's a goddess she always has been, she was never meant to be human!"
"She WAS human, you monstrous bastard, but you took that from her!" Ashen's sharp yell cut the silence, almost a beastly sound to it as it echoed in the room only to die down and settle back into silence.
Meth watched the gun shoot up again to be centered on him. He held no feeling for it but annoyance. "So we're at this again?" No response was given but the wind whistling in the room. Finally a creaking stirred the silence, grabbing Ashen's attention as the old man got up from his leather chair to stand. His hands firmly rooted on the surface of his desk while he watched Ashen with darkened eyes. "I'm growing quite tired of this, you know?"
"Shut up!" Ashen barked.
A picture flashed before Ashen's eyes, just before he was to shoot. It was a mental picture of the little summoner girl, in her chestnut brown pigtails clutching her bunny to her chest. Reflect, words whispered the will of another into his brain, Reflect Reflect!
An elegantly curved eyebrow arched while watching the young man's hand leap from its resting place at his side. In a blur the young summoner was gone replaced by a green squirrel-like creature, a ruby protruding from its forehead. It sat there regarding Meth with innocent ruby eyes, scratching behind its large sea-foam colored ears much like a dog would.
What is he thinking? Eerily the creature's widened eyes and jewel-centered forehead began to glow an ominous red. Without warning a red light sprung forth from that ruby in its head, the light webbed into a net covering the shield length around he and his desk. The light faded away as did the shield's pinkish static-like light, and the creature just watched blinking sporadically, making trilling sounds with its tongue. It leapt in the air, the green orbs alive with flaming centers claimed the cute beast replacing it with Ashen once more.
Each man stared at the other, never bating a lash. Their eyes threatened each other, they dared the other, and the darkness passed over them slowly returning a sliver of white moon light into the office.
"Was that it?" Meth asked with a darkening tone, "I'm sorry, but it didn't hurt."
For the first time Asura's hands peeked out from the flowing sleeves of her kimono, only slightly making visible the slender snow colored fingers. Her eyes fluttered shut again with her head tilting back an inch, her blue lips parted and she exhaled slowly. The sound drifted coating the room in the gentle hiss of human breath; one could almost find comfort in it as hazy white lights looking like snowflakes danced languidly about Meth's desk. However when only one had touched on the invisible barrier every flake flew across to Ashen, each landed safely on his body and disappeared. The cut in Ashen's leg closed up and so did the gash on his forehead, replaced by new skin.
Mentally the older man ordered his new weapon to retreat; she was of no use while his spell was intact. Her head drooped to this side as the fog about her gradually consumed her then dispersed into nothingness. Meth glared coldly at the Ashen while the younger smirked and lifted his gun, the director's upper lip quivered to fight off a snarlhe would not be bested by this child.
The shot echoed in the room, followed by a hoarse growl of pain. Meth's wrinkled hand held his bleeding shoulder; his other hand knocked down the objects covering his desk as he fell to the ground with a thud. Yet Ashen didn't drop his gun, but stayed trained to his spot waiting for the old man to rise again.
Meth tenderly lifted himself from the floor to lean his back against his desk. Loose strands of his slicked back locks fell into his eyes; his face was a mask of pain while breaths seethed through his clenched teeth. The blood began to run down his lapel and seep into his suit, he looked at it while his face eased somewhat.
"Youwere aterrible shot, Ashen." The older man spat between raspy breaths.
"Get up," the young man stated cold and deliberately.
There was no response.
"Get up," the young man reiterated in a low growl, "I didn't kill you, get up."
The director let out an amused air, though Ashen didn't hear it. My how the tables have turnedThe servant giving orders to the master Meth turned his head to look over the items he knocked down, with his free hand he quietly rummaged for the other Summoner Seed he dropped, yet in the process of finding it discovered something else.
His cold eyes narrowed as the fixed on the perplexing object; at first glance one would confuse it for a calculator, which in a way was true, but this simple hand-held machine calculated something of a different nature. The nightglow slit of a screen was a buzz of rapidly increasing percentages; reasoning for a second that the fall must have flicked it on, but the rising percentage disturbed him.
96%, 97%, 98%, 99%it stopped and flashed, 99%, 99%, 99%it continued to flash as Meth gingerly, shakily took it into both hands. For the moment forgetting his excruciating wound and certain death predicament to scrutinize the glaring 99%. He flicked his wrist to the left slightly, pointing the end at some wall. The percentage immediately dropped to zero; he brought it back and the numbers in a flurry rose again. Harden disbelief covered his face, 99%, 99%, 99%.
His eyes began to slowly drift from the number across the floor to the dancing, scrapping, skittering, papers that flew out of their manila folder to fly like birds spreading their wings out the broken window. Each white page with black ink streaked faces gliding gracefully to the world so far below. How poeticAll my plans out the window He continued to stare lost in his own world, his own webbed thought of the unwinding weaves of his plans came to nothing. Bitter, his eyes went back to the flashing numbers, 99%, 99%, they mocked him and yet each time they went away and came back, they stroked a new thought.
He slowly began to rise from out behind the desk, Ashen held tight to his gun. The older man's eyes stayed fixated on the blinking screen as if the other man didn't exist.
"Ashen?" The older man said with an unnatural shakiness, "Do you believe in irony?"
Ashen only narrowed his eyes, wary of the old man's speech.
"Let me rephrase thatdo you believe in fate?" A different tone, desperation, "That fate has an ironic sense of humor?"
"You've lost it," Ashen simply stated, to which the old man burst out in raspy laughter; it made his young skin crawl.
"Yes, all of it!" he chuckled softly, "Everything I've done, all of it, useless!"
His eyes glared at the screen, still blinking the hateful numberno not hateful.
"Ten years ten yearsand I never once thought to point the damn thing at myself," The old man hissed hatefully at the contraption.
Ashen watched the wild frantic man; this new alien being who deeply contrasted the normal cold calculating man he had known for years, it left him dis-eased. He gripped the handle of his gun tighter; a seething growl passed through his gritted teeth. Meth heard this, his head snapped to Ashen; slowly a sneer covered his face.
"Oh yes, that's right," he suppressed another chuckle, "You want to kill me." He turned to face Ashen fully, dropping the still blinking object; it was of no more use to him, "Well then" His bloody hand slicked back the loose strands of hair, "Kill me."
Ashen tense upon hearing the words, half expecting this to be a trick while the other was more then ready to fulfill his request. His red eyed glare intensified witnessing the man gripping the twin lapels of his bloodstained business suit.
"Go on now, kill me Ashenend my life." The old man taunted with snide grandeur, "I raised you, I educated you, I spared you! I was the father you never had!"
"Shut up," Ashen growled.
"Shut me up, kill me!" A dark wild look danced in his eyes and he shouted like a beast, "Be the man I taught you to be! KILL ME!"
Meth stared at Ashen, ready for the bullet, but Ashen didn't fire. He was so poised so ready to, with hate in his red eyes, his finger twitching on the trigger. Rolls of wild condescending laughter echoed in Ashen's ears, pressing him further to shoot.
"Go to hell, Meth." Ashen deliberated coldly.
The laughter stopped abruptly, Meth smiled, showing all his white teeth. His eyes looked on Ashen like a child who had said some endearing thing, he spoke sweetly with emphasis, "There is no hell, Ashen."
One shot, directly in the forehead, and Meth fell backwards to the floor. A heavy thud and all was deathly silent as the wind billowed in the curtains and snow fell gently outside.
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AN: And that my friends, was the end of Craigon Meth. Ahem, for those who don't know (which is basically everyone cause she didn't write it inyet.) Craigon was Meth's first name, but since everyone in the story either hates him or is his underling everyone refers to him as Meth or Director Meth. Also it reflect Ghri society, names and what you are called are a big thing. People are commonly referred to by their last name because they want their family connection known, as families are a symbol of status. If you are a part of the ruling class families then your first name would only be used by other family members or by the media (and even the media would include your last name). To use someone's first name shows ownership (sometimes connection though) a boss can call his employee by their first name, but the employee can't call the boss by his first name. It can be considered an insult to call someone by their first name in that sense. Those who do not have a family or do not want their family to be known go by assumed names or street names, as in the case of Red in the prologue. Red is his street name, 9-ner is his Dynasty name, 1009 is his MAGE number. MAGE members go by names associated with their numbers, as a symbol of giving up their lives and status for their job. A name like that is viewed as a servant. Ashen's name is kinda different then other ppl, his name was given as a description of his hair, which is really impersonal and doesn't recognize him as a person at all. It's something like naming your cat Boots cause it has white paws. Even though he was Dynasty's greatest weapon, he was viewed as a low grade sub-human. And that's Ghri names 101. Also on a side note, no song lyric's this week cause I couldn't find a song and was too busy to do so. Just imagine there are some there. Hoped you enjoyed, see you next week.
