Ch. 13
Shadows Dancing
Omi was hiding in a tree, its foliage hiding him as the darkness from the night sky descended casting the sunlight away. He had been there for who knows how long by now… just waiting, observing, trying to catch not only his wits but his breath as well. He had run until he had found the circus' new location.
A vague thought came to his mind. How had he found it so easily…? But the thought was brushed aside branded as insignificant. That didn't matter. The bad men mattered. The pale boy winced. His head really hurt…really hurt. He let it come forward to rest on the cooler but rougher bark of the tree he was perched on. Soon the show would be over, the masks would have to be ripped away, and the children would be avenged. What happened next… he didn't know. Omi had no where to go after that. He closed his eyes.
/Ne… the world is big…/
He couldn't stay in this area that was for sure. After this mission was completed he would have to disappear. God damn it if only it didn't hurt so much to try to think, to try to remember. He pressed his forehead deeper into the woody surface hoping that the physical pain would somehow calm the internal pain he felt. It was to no avail. In fact it did the very opposite and the pain in his head intensified. A silver trail of salty water came down his cheek no longer quite as round as it had been many months before…it was quite gaunt now, the cheekbones showing.
/A chance to travel… a chance to be free…/
Damn little voice. It never made any sense. How could he ever be free? Omi straightened slowly, opening his eyes as he made sure to keep his balance. There were crowds of people leaving as a huge wave, tightly packed together. He didn't need to be down there to know that they were all smiling, laughing perhaps and going over the fantastic sights they'd just seen. His eyes hardened. Fools.
/You could be reborn./
Reborn. He'd been reborn once too many times to his taste. First as Mamoru, then as Omi, then back to Mamoru…Omi… Ouka… and back to Omi. He didn't think he'd survive any more of that. He didn't care much for what life could give anymore anyway. There were too many shadows, too much darkness in this world to…to…to live. Life broke. Life betrayed. Life lied. Life killed. And he was so tired…so tired of trying… trying to find someone to love, to need and to have them return this to him.
/…/
It was time.
/What makes you think they're still here?/
He didn't know. He couldn't think. Omi started to scramble down the tree. At the last branch that was closest to the ground he jumped off landing neatly as if he'd been a jungle cat on the hunt. Such irony…
/Who are the bad men?/
We all are. We all are. They are. You are. I am. I…Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! It hurts. It hurts. It hurts.
/Will it stop hurting once they die?/
SHUT UP.
/Silly kitten…/
He took a deep breath as he moved forward as quietly as he could manage. His vision was darkening, the pain in his head doubling and making it hard to breath. No more thoughts. That voice was annoying, trying to make him think, trying to make him feel… There was no room for that anymore. No room. Omi's chest tightened as something in the back of his mind suddenly came forward. His stomach lurched. Red-orange hair. A foreign accent… A gun. He closed his eyes tightly only to snap them open again. Never had he felt so angry and such a need to kill.
Many bad men would die today. Many.
After all it's not like he needed to fear going to hell for his sins. He already was in hell. He moved forward, his hands reaching for his darts that were as always in their usual place. If only he'd had them there the first time. He'd wondered about that… he thought he remembered that much. Maybe. He shook his head. He needed to concentrate. He darted past a street light and threw himself to the ground, allowing his body to take over into the motions that had been so ingrained into him. He rolled until he was back into the shadows, already on his feet and on the move again. There were voices next to the caravans. He stilled. He listened. He looked. Words painted on the caravan made him frown.
This wasn't the circus. This wasn't the circus he'd gone to. This was wrong. And yet… those voices. That same arrogance… It was all there. It was the wrong circus. But it was the kidnappers. It was them. Omi flipped his dart into the throwing position. His eyes were once more stone.
Not for long.
…
Shuldich had to actually bite the side of his cheek to keep gloating. Oh it was just too precious. It was just too perfect. This little kitten was easy and yet difficult to break. He already had so many scars… it simply took a little reminding to get those scars to bleed again. Such a fear of betrayal, a need for family, a want for love, friendship, warmth. And all of it down the drain with just a few simple moves and words.
The redhead's mouth widened into a maddening grin. Screw Brad and his premonitions. This kitten was broken. There was no danger. The boy's mind was practically his possession now. And he wanted to be there in person to see the last act take place. He stepped onto the roof of the caravan where he could see the group of men talking and the little pale shadow that was blending with the darkness of the night on the other side.
Of course there would be an epilogue. But that would be for the other kittens.
Later…once this one was truly done with.
…
He attacked. He killed. Their blood flew, their syringes shattered, their guns shot out with loud rings but nothing could stop him until their lives flew away from them. And even then, it was still not good enough. It was still not ended. He reached with a slight trembling hand for the gun that had been thrown to the ground. He ignored the lifeless bodies that surrounded him, their faces etched with a pain and fear they hadn't thought they'd ever feel.
The gun was cold to the touch. The weight was heavy. It felt like death. He wrinkled his nose in distaste but his eyes were blank. He was no one. He was nothing. He was a mere puppet. His hand raised, his finger on the trigger. He let the end of the gun just rest at his temple.
This needed to come to an end.
A bitter smile touched his face. And he turned, his wide blue eyes looking to the top of the caravan where Shuldich had been watching.
"What was it again? Checkmate and one kitten down?" He asked softly to the surprise of the telepath. "I don't like that ending. Not entirely. Come with me…" With that his hand snapped in front of him and he shot. And shot. And shot. And shot. "I'm not your kitten." He watched impassively as more blood flew out in the open, the telepath's eyes still round with incomprehension and surprise. The man fell down on one knee with a sickening thud..
"The game will never be over little one…" Shuldich hissed, his hand to his side where the one bullet had actually managed to hit him. "A beautiful but tragic end awaits all the kittens. And I will be there to see it." A tendril of blood past the redhead's mouth. The boy who stared at him said nothing. Just moved so that all of a sudden he was on the caravan's roof as well with the gun pressed to Shuldich's head.
"Checkmate." The deadened voice muttered. There was a click but the bullet never came out, instead the gun exploded in his hand and the boy fell away into darkness because of it. Omi never saw the telekinetic jumping out of nowhere and reaching for his fallen comrade. He never saw them leave the scene.
And so the game was put on hold.
On hold.
…
Aya-chan's head was lowered, her shoulders slumped as she tried to battle the deep anguish that she was feeling inside so that it wouldn't show. She knew she was failing miserably. She had always failed when it came to hiding her emotions. Her eyes were focused at the plainly patterned carpet of this woman's house.
Omi had been here. Omi had been taken care of. Omi had been…loved. But Omi had left with tears in his eyes apparently. And that hurt her even more. It was obvious from the Wilsen's obvious pain that they had truly loved him. Aya-chan tried to close her eyes. When she did though all these images of the Omi she remembered came flooding into her mind. Him smiling as he allowed to be 'taught' how to walk like a girl even though it was obvious he knew that she just wanted to spend time with him. How he continued to smile no matter what, even when Ken-kun brushed him aside… or when Ran did. She couldn't keep the sob from ripping loose. She sagged deeper into the couch.
It just wasn't fair. It wasn't fair! He didn't even know… he didn't even know how much they loved him and missed him. He was all alone somewhere, fighting with the drugs that had been forced into his body. Omi's adoptive mother who had been in shock ever since Manx had come into the house an hour after they had and told them that their 'daughter' was actually an undercover 'cop' that had been lost during a case, suddenly moved forward, her own sobs coming to the forefront. She went over to the younger girl and hugged her tightly. "It's going to be okay. It has to be okay… Ouk—Omi will come back. She… he…" The woman broke down completely, her words lost through the tears.
Mr. Wilsen was near the window his eyes peering silently into the night sky. He'd stopped talking after Manx's explanation. His hands had tightened into fists as the disbelief had melted away from his features. The sound of his wife's sobs along with this strange girl who had known their child from before seemed to break whatever internal struggle he'd been fighting. "A child…" He whispered. "He was a child!" He slammed the window. "How the hell could you use him that way?!" The outburst got no reaction from Manx who was calmly waiting for the three Weiss members to call her. They had been sent out to search for Omi since he couldn't exactly have gone very far. Her serious eyes moved towards the trembling man, her red lips pursing as she frowned.
"It was what he wanted." She stated softly. "He's been trained for such situations since he was ten. It was his… father's decision." Her hand came up and pushed a strand of rebellious red hair behind an ear. "He looks younger than his real age."
"That doesn't make it better. He was still only eighteen."
"…" Manx had nothing to say to that. She had been against Persia's decision from the very beginning when it had concerned Omi's future. She had wanted to place him in a foster home, give him the chance of a real life instead of the darkness. But Persia had not listened to this. He saw it differently. Making Omi as a member of Weiss would give him the chance to understand what his real father was like and to get his revenge at being so cruelly abandoned. Somehow… that didn't seem to be worth it for her. The reasoning was weak… but it had been done the way Persia had wanted it to be done. She sighed.
"…He has no memory of you…people." He spat out. "He doesn't. He…" The man trailed off. There had been a soft thud at the front door that had caught his attention. He moved rigidly to the door and opened it with one quick flick of the wrist. "…O…" The man fell to his knees.
A half conscious boy with badly cut hair was leaning against the steps, his face splattered with the rusty reddish brown liquid that in Mr. Wilsen's long career with the police force had too often seen. The boy's hands were burned, pieces of metal wedged into the raw meat that had once held skin. The blue eyes that he grown accustomed to seeing were staring blankly ahead, blinking rapidly as they tried to get rid of the tears.
"I didn't… I…didn't… know…where to go…" The voice was lower, rough and laced with pain. "I didn't… I don't know… I don't remember… but… this house… there is warmth here…I need…help. The mission was…completed but the game… the game hasn't ended…" The last words were choked and Omi's head sank down, the last of his strength gone. He was safe now. He didn't know why he knew this but… it was the truth. He was safe.
"Ouka…Ouka…" Mr. Wilsen cried out, his voice breaking as he scooped the too skinny body into his arms. "Call 911. He's badly hurt." His words were already useless as Manx had already called Kritiker. The only sign of emotion showing on her was the trembling of her hands as she clutched the cell phone tighter to call more numbers.
Aya-chan and Mrs. Wilsen were holding onto each other still, moving almost as one as they collapsed next to the man with the fallen boy in his arms. The cry that came from the older woman was heartbreaking as she reached for the child that she had begun to think as he own.
"Nooooooooooo!"
A/N- Yep. That is truly the end of the chapter. But not the story. Grins. I'm really not trying to be evil or anything. It's just… well… that's how the chapter ends. But to make up for the bad ending place, I'm posting the next chapter at the same time! Please let me know what you think though. Oh and I do realize that Omi's scene in the beginning of the chapter is kind of confusing. Its supposed to be since he's so messed up with the effects of that evil drug that had been injected him.