All right. Here's my first crack at a real fanfic. Just one chapter so
far –another is in the works. Special thanks to my Beta Reader and editor,
HollowEyes. You're the best hon. Thanks to anyone who is reading this, I
hope you like it (there will be real shounen-ai in later chapters, but this
is it for now). Enjoy!
Lust danced in hazy amethyst eyes as he increased the momentum of his body movements. He rammed into the man again and again and again, causing the other to release a long, intense groan.
Of agony.
And crumple to the floor, a broken ragdoll.
Dead.
That made one security squad down, and one left to go.
Bed lust always played second to blood lust for Fujimya Aya. And perhaps that was partially due to never finding a partner suitable enough to meet his needs. A sardonic smirk twitched across the young man's pale face, cold humour even managing to reach his icy eyes. Not that he'd have to look far, had he really desired a good fuck. But he was interested in other things. Something more than the physical need of his body. More than lust.
Hold that thought. What exactly was he thinking?
No, no. He was disillusioned tonight. Love wasn't anything he wanted to feel. Not even lust for that matter. He shook his head clear of the thought and focused all his attention back on the figure at his feet.
He ripped his katana from the mass of flesh and blood, gazing with impassive eyes as thick, red liquid formed rivers between the cracks of the tiled floor. Pretty.....in a sordid way. Fascinating, to his morbid mind. So long as it wasn't his blood. Sighing wearily, he glanced up expectantly at an approaching fleet of security personnel. Pathetic. It had taken them at least an entire thirty seconds to make it there.
He found his thoughts wondering, whilst he slay the five guards. He slashed deeply into the first's chest, while dancing through a shower of bullets. Predictable. Suppressing a sigh, he plunged his blade into the second's torso, levering it up and down twice before prying it loose of the body and moving on to his next target. This was becoming routine, and devastatingly boring. A hideous croaking scream gurgled through the throat of another as he slammed the blade in the area between the man's neck and his throat. Damn. His accuracy was off tonight. This would have to mean two hours of extra practice for the rest of the week to make up for it. Furrowing his fine brows in concentration, he slowly tore through the man's neck, feeling the sifting sinews and muscle tissue as they parted, pliant to his double-sided katana. The man's head rolled to the floor, nearly tripping the assassin as he dodged yet another storm of bullets. He cursed beneath his breath and whirled out of a bullet's path. There was only one man shooting at him now. Chuckling under his breath he advanced towards his last standing opponent, and circled the man slowly........slowly...ever- so-slowly, drawing nearer with every circle. It amused him, to tease his prey.
He took a step forward.
The other stepped back.
He grinned and tried it again.
This time, the man stepped back and discharged a shot at him with a trembling hand.
But he was tired of the game now. He leapt forth, slicing of the man's right arm. Blood sprinkled the ground, like a light rain. The limb - and the gun - fell to the floor.
Aya rolled his eyes in agitation as the man fell to his knees, sobbing bitterly, begging the assassin to let him live. He had a family. He had children. He had...he had...he had...
He had a death wish if was a security guard for the head honcho of a terrorist group.
How many times had Aya heard these sob-stories before? Did this blubbering idiot truly think he'd actually give a shit?
Aya cut him off mid sentence with a swift plunge of his katana into the other's back. The attack was so powerful, the man didn't even have the chance to choke on his own blood before dying.
Another job well done. He could go home now. Bracing his foot on the limp man's back, Aya yanked his sword out - which was difficult, seeing as he had somehow lodged it in the corpse's ribcage. He grunted, agitated with the extra effort he had to exert. Still, with a final jerk, the sword was released from its fleshy sheath. Aya surveyed his handiwork proudly, scanning his end of the hallway. Nine corpses. He took them all down in record time. Five from the first four from the second...
Hold on, four?
Shit!
He spun on his heel to see the final guard fleeing down the other end of the hall. How could he have been so careless? Idiot!
He launched himself to chase after his game, but stopped mid stride as thin wires wrapped themselves around his target.
Their graceful beauty was deceiving. Just like their owner's...
Youji? Wasn't he supposed to be on 9th floor below? Shrugging, he turned around and calmly strode back to his own little corner of massacre. While Youji finished up for him he'd double check his job was done. A glance at the bodies littering the ground made assurance double sure, and he sheathed his weapon. The little blood rivers he had watched so intently prior to this attack had flooded into a miniature lake. It crept towards his boots, slowly. He watched it, bored, until he felt a slender on his shoulder.
"Hey Aya." Youji. Aya's gaze remained focused on the stained floor. The older man sauntered over to a fallen body, and let out a loud whistle as he inspected his colleague's work. A large grin spread over his face as he stood up to look at Aya, his jade eyes sparkling with amusement. God he was beautiful...
"Hey Aya! You chopped of his fire arm! Get it? Fire arm?" The brunette shook his chestnut locks and chuckled at his own joke.
Aya smirked. Horrible joke as it was, it was much appreciated. Sometimes, they needed anything to distract them from all this. But the fact still stared up at them from blank eyeballs in a grim set face. They were murderers.
"So... let's go now Aya..." Youji wrapped his arms around himself in a gesture which reminded Aya of a child. Cute.. "This place is giving me the creeps, and Bombay and Siberian are just waiting to blow it into tomorrow." The brunette tugged on his arm like an impatient child. Aya sighed, and followed the older assassin down the hall, half minding what Youji spoke into his communicator.
"Bombay? Balinese. Mission accomplished....yeah.....yeah. He's with me. I-What? Chrissakes! Bombay I...all right. Fine. Okay. Be out in a few." He threw a glance back over his shoulder, his features taught with agitation.
"They planted the bomb. Need to be out in three minutes."
Aya nodded, and followed closely behind Youji, sprinting down the stairs three at a time. It was going to be tight...His mind was in a whirr as he trailed the self-proclaimed playboy down flight after flight of stairs. A nice view it was too...
Shit! He had to stop that! Where was this all coming from? It was a completely unexpected, and undesired emotion. He wanted nothing to do it. But still, it lingered inside him, and it wasn't a feeling that he could just shake off. Gods, he'd tried for two months now. Yes, Youji was hot. That much he'd admitted to himself a long time ago. But sex wasn't something he needed, and there was no real reason that the man should always be on his mind. And he always was. He couldn't rule it out as a fetish or just a fascination. So then what was it?
"Shit! Forty seconds." The glorious green-eyed God hissed through pearly white teeth. "We're not going to make it. What floor is this?"
"Second..." Aya answered sternly. Goddamn it, Balinese was right...they didn't have enough time.
The corner of Youji's mouth twitched. "All right, change of plans." The playboy took a breath. "Do you trust me?"
"What?!?" Aya nearly choked on his own tongue. The blonde sighed and dashed out from the stair case to stood in front of a glass window. Aya regarded him with curiousity as the lanky man overlooked the the contents of the street below. Two parked cars. A lamp. It was virtually free of all passer-bys. No one innocent would be hurt by the explosion. Aya found himself lost in a flow of time. How could anyone be so nonchalant when facing death? Why was it, that beneath Youji's flighty, wild personality was there such an underlying sense of serenity? How come he'd never asked about it? He jumped as he felt a slender arm wrap around his waist. He let his eyes widene in indignant shock.
"What do you think you're..."
Without a work of explanation, Youji dragged them both forwards and crashed through the window, still latched to the redhead who had only just realized what was happening...
The glass shattered around their bodies, and the noise rang in their ears. It sprinkled the pair in their descent like cutting rain in the cold night air. Aya watched as the ground below them approached faster and faster. They were falling so slowly -it made him think of when Ken and Omi would watch action movies in freeze-frame at home. But the cold, and Youji's arms around him were all too real.
He squeezed his eyes shut. They'd be together at the end at least. He'd always hoped that if any of them were to die, that all Weiss would fall together. They were his family, and he couldn't imagine life without them. He wondered if any of them felt the same.
With his eyes closed, he failed to see Youji's look of determination, nor the silver flash of the wire as it wrapped around the arm of the street lamp. But he could feel Youji's arm still wrapped tight around his body. He felt the jerk as the wire pulled taught and forced his eyes open. He saw the relieved face of Youji above him. He could see the black night stretched out before them.
He looked down to see the street gently swaying back and forth beneath their feet.
"You're heavy Aya." The man smiled and released his hold on the wire. They fell five feet to the ground, and crumpled in an awkward heap, a tangled mess of leather and limbs on the cold pavement.
Youji let out a small gasp as a boom filled the thick air, and flames consumed the night. Aya released a breath he hadn't known he was holding.
Youji shook his head, trying to free his hair of tiny glass shards. Sighing in relief he exchanged glances with Aya,"That was a close one."
"Aa."
Aya could tell that the taller man was unnerved. That was uncustomary for Youji. Bloody idiot. He'd been like this for a while now. Jittery. Nervous. Afraid of something. For Youji's sake, he hoped it a brief thing. After a mission was one thing, but it such emotion plagued him during one -he could put them all at risk. Aya could not ignore apprehension if it meant the safety of his companions. Even if it was Youji.. Apprehension was the last thing a team of homicidal mercenaries needed. In a way, that's all they were, wasn't it?
The redhead disentangled his body from his companion's reluctantly and stood, brushing off his trenchcoat haughtily.
Youji pulled himself slowly to his feet, and tipped his glasses higher on the bridge of his nose.
"Strange for an assassin to worry about their clothes that much, ne Abbysinian?"
Aya smirked. "Look who's talking Kudou."
Without a word more, Aya turned on his heel, and walked in the direction of Seven, knowing Youji would follow behind. Omi and Ken would be waiting for them, probably reveling already in their post-mission highs. Such a good little team of killers. All smiles and sunshine on any good day. That wasn't something Aya could ever fathom - how those two managed to bypass the guilt that he felt in his heart.
No, that wasn't quite right.
Aya didn't feel guilty, precisely. The people whom they hunted were quite literally, all menaces to society. They deserved to die. What Aya felt was shame perhaps. Shame that the only way to live was by destroying lives. Well, ending them actually. Did the number of people they'd saved by killing their targets negate their sin? Could the numbers truly compare?
Did it matter anymore?
No. Aya was Abysinnian, and Abysinnian shouldn't be feeling anything. Not even shame. He was aloof to everything.
"You feeling all right Aya?"
Youji's voice startled him from his thoughts. The older man's face pulled into a slight frown, and his emerald eyes were focused on Aya's own. He could feel them boring into him, analyzing, searching for something. What was this about?
He shrugged. "Aa."
"Hmm." Youji looked skeptical, but didn't call it. "Just checking."
They walked the rest of the way to the car in companionable silence, savoring the chill night air on their faces, and the tranquillity that settled over them after every successful mission.
Just another night, for the eldest half of the White Cross.
Lust danced in hazy amethyst eyes as he increased the momentum of his body movements. He rammed into the man again and again and again, causing the other to release a long, intense groan.
Of agony.
And crumple to the floor, a broken ragdoll.
Dead.
That made one security squad down, and one left to go.
Bed lust always played second to blood lust for Fujimya Aya. And perhaps that was partially due to never finding a partner suitable enough to meet his needs. A sardonic smirk twitched across the young man's pale face, cold humour even managing to reach his icy eyes. Not that he'd have to look far, had he really desired a good fuck. But he was interested in other things. Something more than the physical need of his body. More than lust.
Hold that thought. What exactly was he thinking?
No, no. He was disillusioned tonight. Love wasn't anything he wanted to feel. Not even lust for that matter. He shook his head clear of the thought and focused all his attention back on the figure at his feet.
He ripped his katana from the mass of flesh and blood, gazing with impassive eyes as thick, red liquid formed rivers between the cracks of the tiled floor. Pretty.....in a sordid way. Fascinating, to his morbid mind. So long as it wasn't his blood. Sighing wearily, he glanced up expectantly at an approaching fleet of security personnel. Pathetic. It had taken them at least an entire thirty seconds to make it there.
He found his thoughts wondering, whilst he slay the five guards. He slashed deeply into the first's chest, while dancing through a shower of bullets. Predictable. Suppressing a sigh, he plunged his blade into the second's torso, levering it up and down twice before prying it loose of the body and moving on to his next target. This was becoming routine, and devastatingly boring. A hideous croaking scream gurgled through the throat of another as he slammed the blade in the area between the man's neck and his throat. Damn. His accuracy was off tonight. This would have to mean two hours of extra practice for the rest of the week to make up for it. Furrowing his fine brows in concentration, he slowly tore through the man's neck, feeling the sifting sinews and muscle tissue as they parted, pliant to his double-sided katana. The man's head rolled to the floor, nearly tripping the assassin as he dodged yet another storm of bullets. He cursed beneath his breath and whirled out of a bullet's path. There was only one man shooting at him now. Chuckling under his breath he advanced towards his last standing opponent, and circled the man slowly........slowly...ever- so-slowly, drawing nearer with every circle. It amused him, to tease his prey.
He took a step forward.
The other stepped back.
He grinned and tried it again.
This time, the man stepped back and discharged a shot at him with a trembling hand.
But he was tired of the game now. He leapt forth, slicing of the man's right arm. Blood sprinkled the ground, like a light rain. The limb - and the gun - fell to the floor.
Aya rolled his eyes in agitation as the man fell to his knees, sobbing bitterly, begging the assassin to let him live. He had a family. He had children. He had...he had...he had...
He had a death wish if was a security guard for the head honcho of a terrorist group.
How many times had Aya heard these sob-stories before? Did this blubbering idiot truly think he'd actually give a shit?
Aya cut him off mid sentence with a swift plunge of his katana into the other's back. The attack was so powerful, the man didn't even have the chance to choke on his own blood before dying.
Another job well done. He could go home now. Bracing his foot on the limp man's back, Aya yanked his sword out - which was difficult, seeing as he had somehow lodged it in the corpse's ribcage. He grunted, agitated with the extra effort he had to exert. Still, with a final jerk, the sword was released from its fleshy sheath. Aya surveyed his handiwork proudly, scanning his end of the hallway. Nine corpses. He took them all down in record time. Five from the first four from the second...
Hold on, four?
Shit!
He spun on his heel to see the final guard fleeing down the other end of the hall. How could he have been so careless? Idiot!
He launched himself to chase after his game, but stopped mid stride as thin wires wrapped themselves around his target.
Their graceful beauty was deceiving. Just like their owner's...
Youji? Wasn't he supposed to be on 9th floor below? Shrugging, he turned around and calmly strode back to his own little corner of massacre. While Youji finished up for him he'd double check his job was done. A glance at the bodies littering the ground made assurance double sure, and he sheathed his weapon. The little blood rivers he had watched so intently prior to this attack had flooded into a miniature lake. It crept towards his boots, slowly. He watched it, bored, until he felt a slender on his shoulder.
"Hey Aya." Youji. Aya's gaze remained focused on the stained floor. The older man sauntered over to a fallen body, and let out a loud whistle as he inspected his colleague's work. A large grin spread over his face as he stood up to look at Aya, his jade eyes sparkling with amusement. God he was beautiful...
"Hey Aya! You chopped of his fire arm! Get it? Fire arm?" The brunette shook his chestnut locks and chuckled at his own joke.
Aya smirked. Horrible joke as it was, it was much appreciated. Sometimes, they needed anything to distract them from all this. But the fact still stared up at them from blank eyeballs in a grim set face. They were murderers.
"So... let's go now Aya..." Youji wrapped his arms around himself in a gesture which reminded Aya of a child. Cute.. "This place is giving me the creeps, and Bombay and Siberian are just waiting to blow it into tomorrow." The brunette tugged on his arm like an impatient child. Aya sighed, and followed the older assassin down the hall, half minding what Youji spoke into his communicator.
"Bombay? Balinese. Mission accomplished....yeah.....yeah. He's with me. I-What? Chrissakes! Bombay I...all right. Fine. Okay. Be out in a few." He threw a glance back over his shoulder, his features taught with agitation.
"They planted the bomb. Need to be out in three minutes."
Aya nodded, and followed closely behind Youji, sprinting down the stairs three at a time. It was going to be tight...His mind was in a whirr as he trailed the self-proclaimed playboy down flight after flight of stairs. A nice view it was too...
Shit! He had to stop that! Where was this all coming from? It was a completely unexpected, and undesired emotion. He wanted nothing to do it. But still, it lingered inside him, and it wasn't a feeling that he could just shake off. Gods, he'd tried for two months now. Yes, Youji was hot. That much he'd admitted to himself a long time ago. But sex wasn't something he needed, and there was no real reason that the man should always be on his mind. And he always was. He couldn't rule it out as a fetish or just a fascination. So then what was it?
"Shit! Forty seconds." The glorious green-eyed God hissed through pearly white teeth. "We're not going to make it. What floor is this?"
"Second..." Aya answered sternly. Goddamn it, Balinese was right...they didn't have enough time.
The corner of Youji's mouth twitched. "All right, change of plans." The playboy took a breath. "Do you trust me?"
"What?!?" Aya nearly choked on his own tongue. The blonde sighed and dashed out from the stair case to stood in front of a glass window. Aya regarded him with curiousity as the lanky man overlooked the the contents of the street below. Two parked cars. A lamp. It was virtually free of all passer-bys. No one innocent would be hurt by the explosion. Aya found himself lost in a flow of time. How could anyone be so nonchalant when facing death? Why was it, that beneath Youji's flighty, wild personality was there such an underlying sense of serenity? How come he'd never asked about it? He jumped as he felt a slender arm wrap around his waist. He let his eyes widene in indignant shock.
"What do you think you're..."
Without a work of explanation, Youji dragged them both forwards and crashed through the window, still latched to the redhead who had only just realized what was happening...
The glass shattered around their bodies, and the noise rang in their ears. It sprinkled the pair in their descent like cutting rain in the cold night air. Aya watched as the ground below them approached faster and faster. They were falling so slowly -it made him think of when Ken and Omi would watch action movies in freeze-frame at home. But the cold, and Youji's arms around him were all too real.
He squeezed his eyes shut. They'd be together at the end at least. He'd always hoped that if any of them were to die, that all Weiss would fall together. They were his family, and he couldn't imagine life without them. He wondered if any of them felt the same.
With his eyes closed, he failed to see Youji's look of determination, nor the silver flash of the wire as it wrapped around the arm of the street lamp. But he could feel Youji's arm still wrapped tight around his body. He felt the jerk as the wire pulled taught and forced his eyes open. He saw the relieved face of Youji above him. He could see the black night stretched out before them.
He looked down to see the street gently swaying back and forth beneath their feet.
"You're heavy Aya." The man smiled and released his hold on the wire. They fell five feet to the ground, and crumpled in an awkward heap, a tangled mess of leather and limbs on the cold pavement.
Youji let out a small gasp as a boom filled the thick air, and flames consumed the night. Aya released a breath he hadn't known he was holding.
Youji shook his head, trying to free his hair of tiny glass shards. Sighing in relief he exchanged glances with Aya,"That was a close one."
"Aa."
Aya could tell that the taller man was unnerved. That was uncustomary for Youji. Bloody idiot. He'd been like this for a while now. Jittery. Nervous. Afraid of something. For Youji's sake, he hoped it a brief thing. After a mission was one thing, but it such emotion plagued him during one -he could put them all at risk. Aya could not ignore apprehension if it meant the safety of his companions. Even if it was Youji.. Apprehension was the last thing a team of homicidal mercenaries needed. In a way, that's all they were, wasn't it?
The redhead disentangled his body from his companion's reluctantly and stood, brushing off his trenchcoat haughtily.
Youji pulled himself slowly to his feet, and tipped his glasses higher on the bridge of his nose.
"Strange for an assassin to worry about their clothes that much, ne Abbysinian?"
Aya smirked. "Look who's talking Kudou."
Without a word more, Aya turned on his heel, and walked in the direction of Seven, knowing Youji would follow behind. Omi and Ken would be waiting for them, probably reveling already in their post-mission highs. Such a good little team of killers. All smiles and sunshine on any good day. That wasn't something Aya could ever fathom - how those two managed to bypass the guilt that he felt in his heart.
No, that wasn't quite right.
Aya didn't feel guilty, precisely. The people whom they hunted were quite literally, all menaces to society. They deserved to die. What Aya felt was shame perhaps. Shame that the only way to live was by destroying lives. Well, ending them actually. Did the number of people they'd saved by killing their targets negate their sin? Could the numbers truly compare?
Did it matter anymore?
No. Aya was Abysinnian, and Abysinnian shouldn't be feeling anything. Not even shame. He was aloof to everything.
"You feeling all right Aya?"
Youji's voice startled him from his thoughts. The older man's face pulled into a slight frown, and his emerald eyes were focused on Aya's own. He could feel them boring into him, analyzing, searching for something. What was this about?
He shrugged. "Aa."
"Hmm." Youji looked skeptical, but didn't call it. "Just checking."
They walked the rest of the way to the car in companionable silence, savoring the chill night air on their faces, and the tranquillity that settled over them after every successful mission.
Just another night, for the eldest half of the White Cross.