CAUTION: Contains Spoilers! Read at your own risk. The anime and characters included in this fan-fiction are under the exclusive ownership of their creators and Bandai Entertainment.

Ch. 6 – "Return"

The waxing Moon's light pooled upon the concrete floor at Amon's feet. Broken glass crunched beneath his heavy boots as he stooped to examine the shining object that had drawn his attention from across the room.

A bullet casing.

The cold metal cylinder gleamed forebodingly in the growing silver light. Amon picked it up, feeling the slight weight of its reality in his hand. He rolled it between his thumb and index finger, angling it so as to catch the moonlight. Runes were carved upon the shell, as he had suspected there would be. His frown deepened as he fixed his gaze upon the fire-witch who was now rising from her position on the floor and approaching him.

"Solomon…" The name came out slowly as if she was almost afraid to utter it, sensing that somehow those three syllables were the veritable nails in the coffin of her existence. With a slender hand, she gingerly plucked the casing from her partner's hand and squinted at the engraved characters. "It's the same as before, Amon," she confirmed, staring up at him pointedly, her pupils dilated in the darkness, their black circles threatening to swallow the emerald irises whole. Amon's scowl lessened a bit in meeting her eyes.

The doorknob turned slowly; a wary Nagira peered at them from behind the pistol he held at the ready. Evident relief passed over his face at finding them unharmed. "What happened here?" He surveyed the room, noting the broken window and its scattered remnants with a grimace as he lowered the gun. He was lucky that Mika had just gone home for the night. She would be furious in the morning.

"A hunter," Amon said plainly, his expression revealing nothing.

Robin's fingers curled around the spent shell, concealing it in her palm. The less Nagira knew about the attack, the safer he and his clients would be, she reminded herself.

More questions surfaced in Nagira's dark eyes, but he just laughed inwardly and brushed them off. He knew Amon wasn't the talkative type, why should he expect anything more? He'd always been too serious, too secretive. "Alright then, keep it to yourself if you must. Get your belongings together and return to STN-J. There's no point in you staying here any longer." With that, Nagira left the room, leaving them with a silence pregnant with apprehension.

Neon lights and shadowy figures streamed passed the windows of the black sedan. Tokyo's nightlife was out in full-force. Robin took in the sights as they flew by, wondering idly what it would be like to be one of the ignorant masses, to know nothing of witches or genetic experiments or secret organizations.

Amon concentrated on steering, paying little notice to the young woman in the passenger's seat. He did not want to remain out in public any longer than was necessary, in case they were being hunted. He'd been a fool to think they'd be safe at Nagira's, to think there was any place to hide from Solomon's ever-watchful eyes.

Robin blinked inquisitively as her partner braked on the side of an unfamiliar road. She blinked again when he exited the car and slammed the door shut. Climbing hesitantly out of the vehicle, she directed a curious stare at him. "Amon, where are we?"

The hunter didn't respond, just continued to walk quietly up the sidewalk. Was he trying to abandon her again, or was he just lost in thought? At last, Robin gave up and trotted after him, careful not to trip over her long skirts. She caught up with him on the front stoop of a tall, brick building. He proceeded through the door before him, Robin following him up a few flights of stairs and waiting by his side as he unlocked a garish, green door. Its hinges creaked in protest as Amon pushed it open. The scent of stale air drifted out from the dim rooms within as he crossed the threshold, and Robin trailed close behind, wrinkling her nose slightly at the dusty odor.

"What is this place?" It was difficult to make much of the few shapes her eyes could distinguish in the darkness as she shut the door.

"My apartment," he replied bluntly, turning on a table lamp and tossing his keys on the table. The light revealed an almost bare room. It hardly looked as if anyone lived there. And perhaps that was the case. It occurred to Robin that maybe Amon had been spending a bit too much time hunting.

"We'll stay here for the night and then meet with STN-J." He removed his trench coat and took a seat at a small desk in the corner of the room. He flipped open a laptop that lay on the desk, its glowing screen illuminating his face as his fingers occasionally tapped the keys.

She opened her mouth, but her response instantly died in her throat. Amon wanted to remain busy. He didn't like feeling helpless or being at the mercy of others. A sad half-smile played upon her lips as she listened to the clacking of the keyboard, the sounds of him trying to remain in control of the situation. "Good-night, then," Robin murmured as she went in search of a place to sleep.

Amon mumbled an incomprehensible reply, staring intently at the screen before him. He noted to the gradually fading sound of Robin's shoes shuffling off towards the bedroom and he sighed, allowing a wave of weariness to overtake him in her absence.

Why had he decided against returning to STN-J like Nagira had suggested? Why was he trying to delay the inevitable? His own questions tore at his mind, but there was only one answer for his actions. And he didn't want to admit to it.

Whatever his reasoning had been, he was not going to sleep this night. Someone had to stay awake and alert, and he'd wordlessly volunteered himself to be the watchman. Resigning himself to his task, he slumped forward in his chair, chin in one hand and the other typing on the laptop. Let Robin rest, let her believe they were safe for now. She will need all of her strength to deal with what is to come, he thought, his cold, grey eyes skimming once more over the information displayed on the laptop's screen. S-Class Craft-user…Dispatched… Italy… Abilities: Classified. Releasing another sigh of fatigue, he shut down the computer and sat in silence, pondering.

Gliding through the dark hallway, Robin found her way to the bedroom. After a few moments, her probing hands found a floor lamp and she switched it on, squinting in the sudden brightness. The light exposed another sparsely furnished room. The bed was neatly made, the sheets pulled taut over the mattress. It appeared that Amon seldom slept here. There weren't even indentations in the pillows. She took a seat precariously on the edge of the bed, unraveling the ribbons from her hair and humming quietly to herself. Her ginger locks were still damp from the rain shower earlier that day and a few strands clung to her neck while the rest fell in her face as she leaned down to remove her boots. At last, she slid down to the hardwood floor, kneeling and propping her elbows on the bed before her, bowed head resting against slim fingers laced in prayer.

Her voice was a faint murmur to Amon's ears and, almost against his will, he wandered from the desk, down the hallway to the entrance of the bedroom; he strained to hear the words, only able to discern a few. His proficiency in Latin had deteriorated as the years since his initial training at Solomon passed. But Robin's tongue rolled over the ancient language with ease, indicative of a life of practice, the hint of her Italian accent bestowing a musical rhythm upon the words.

Dona nobis pacem et salva nos a hostibus. Exaudi, Pie Jesu. In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti. Amen.

Lifting her head, she rose from her knees and padded across the room to turn off the floor lamp. Remaining fully clothed and tugging at the tightly tucked blankets, she crawled into bed for a long-desired rest, unaware of the steely eyes transfixed on her.

Amon, her guardian, an unmoving silhouette amongst the shadows.

Harry's.

The restaurant was a welcome sight to Robin's eyes. A sigh of relief passed her lips as she stepped through the familiar entryway. Amon loomed behind her, analyzing every aspect of their surroundings, making a mental note of the face of each person dining inside as they strolled by.

She'd quietly requested that they stop at Master's establishment before they returned to STN-J, her jade eyes almost pleading with him. He'd indulged her, deciding that he would also like to speak with the bartender. At his answer, Robin's mood had visibly brightened, a soft, pleased smile turning up the corners of her mouth.

Master stood behind the bar, drying a scotch glass and chatting amicably with a group of customers. He glanced up, his eyes alight with pleasure as the two hunters approached. He subtly excused himself from the conversation and stepped out to greet the prodigal STN-J members.

Enveloping Robin in a gentle, paternal embrace, he welcomed them both back from their brief absence. "Robin-chan, Amon, it's so good to see you again." The skin around Master's eyes crinkled as he smiled kindly at them. "I see you are in good health after all that has happened. Would you like me to get you anything?"

Amon parted his lips to decline the offer, but Robin, beaming up at the bartender, was already asking for an espresso. With an undetectable shrug, the older hunter trailed behind the chattering pair. He settled himself on one of the barstools and half-listened to their conversation, signaling for his usual when Master glanced at him.

The potent aroma of straight bourbon wafted up from the glass Master placed before Amon. He watched the amber liquid swirl, his mind focused on thoughts of the Craft-user who would soon arrive from Italy to hunt them. He'd said nothing of the matter to Robin; it was better that she think they were safe from Solomon's attacks for the time-being. Better that she not be troubled by the notion that she and Amon had so little time left.

He would keep the worry for himself.

"Amon."

"Mm?" He flicked his steely gaze from his drink to Robin, snapping out of his concentration. The girl must have been attempting to get his attention for a while, for her expression held poorly disguised frustration.

"Master says there was a hunter here yesterday, someone from Solomon." She was studying his face for some sort of reaction, though fairly certain there would be none.

Shit.

The black-haired man peered over the rim of his glass at her as he sipped his bourbon, a neutral mask concealing the stab of uncertainty he felt. Was the hunter from Italy already in Japan? Possibly. He wasn't sure how old the intelligence he'd intercepted the previous night was. His doubt was replaced by a fleeting spark of irritation. He wished that he could speak with Master privately, away from the prying eyes of the restaurant customers, away from Robin's inquiries. Amon downed the last of the burning alcohol, its harsh flavor sliding down his throat. He placing the empty glass on the bar with a dull thud and settled his darkening eyes on Master. "Is this true?" was his tactful response.

The barkeeper nodded imperceptibly. "He was asking a lot of questions about STN-J...and about Robin-chan." Noting how Amon's jaw muscles contracted at the utterance of her name, Master continued. "But he received no information from me. I sent him on his way thinking that I didn't even know how to mix a good drink," he said, winking.

"Where was he from?" Robin asked innocently.

"Ah, well, I'm not sure about that. He spoke Japanese well enough, but he had a European accent. Not so unlike yours, Robin-chan."

Robin's eyebrows shot up. "Italian?"

"Perhaps. I was a little careful about asking him too many personal questions. Some customers can be rather sensitive about their private lives," Master replied, his gaze resting on Amon, who was presently pulling a few yen from his wallet and placing them on the counter. The bartender shook his head, pushing the money back towards the hunter. "It's on the house. Consider it a welcome-back gift."

With farewells and promises to visit soon, the two witches departed. The STN-J members awaited their arrival and there was no delaying it further.

To Amon's chagrin, he found that the car wouldn't start. He turned the key in the ignition repeatedly, begging silently for the engine to rev, but to no avail

Robin remained outside of the car, leaning against the trunk and waiting for Amon to give up. Eventually he did, and they hailed a cab to drive them the short distance to the witch-hunting agency.

A brief ride brought them to their destination. Raven's Flat stood ominously before them, its cast-iron perimeter gates jutting up to the sky.

The first time she'd come to the STN-J headquarters she'd marveled at the structure. It had looked so different from what she'd imagined, its architecture distinctly European. Almost Gothic. An obvious Solomon influence. It was perhaps the only building in the whole of Japan that reminded her of home.

At the beginning of her stay, she'd been dubbed the "replacement". She was the untried Craft-user sent under the guise of filling the vacant spot of a fallen comrade. The STN-J members had eventually accepted her presence, slowly incorporating her into their missions. All, with the exception of Amon, had made an effort to treat her as a companion, an equal.

Now she possessed the enhanced Craft she'd been ordered to secretly investigate and Solomon had forsaken her. And Amon was with her. Whether he remained with her reluctantly or of his own will, she wasn't certain. Although, he could certainly leave her at any time.

Amon stepped towards the gate, impatient to meet the others. Robin took the hint and led the way to the entrance, waving hello to the gatekeeper, who was, as usual, reading a magazine.

"Lucky color: Black." The words echoed in Amon's mind and his eyes narrowed at the heavyset man.

The guard unlocked the gate, smiling in greeting, his gaze resting decidedly on the young fire-witch. "They're expecting you," he confirmed with a short nod, the gate clanging solidly behind him. He watched as they vanished behind the closing elevator doors and then went back to reading his magazine, a smile still stretched across his face.

The two witches emerged from the elevator as its doors reopened a few moments later, revealing the familiar STN-J offices. A grave silence hung in the air. Robin found it odd not hearing the rapid tapping of keys and the muffled sounds of Michael's headphones. The very life seemed to have been sapped from the place.

Doujima and Miho turned in their chairs to observe the visitors. The blonde hunter tossed her older teammate a haughty look that could only be read as "I told you so" and advanced on them, a beaming smile gracing her face. Karasuma stood to welcome them as well, although somewhat more slowly than Yurika in doing so. Miho's scalp was heavily bandaged and she leaned unsteadily on her chair for support.

Robin's emerald eyes filled with compassion and relief at the sight. She was overwhelmingly happy to see that they had indeed survived. That, despite injury to their bodies as well as their spirits, they were determined to continue their fight. Tears threatened to spill down her cheeks, but with effort, she was able to blink them away.

Amon touched Robin's shoulder in reassurance. Seeing both Miho and Doujima again was encouraging, but they looked like they were in no shape to combat witches or hunters. Perhaps he'd made a mistake in his judgment, but he still possessed a loyalty to the STN-J members, a sense of responsibility to protect them and to fight at their side. "How is Michael doing?" he asked, his baritone voice breaking the silence.

"As well as can be expected, I suppose," Miho replied, sighing but attempting to smile. "It's gotten pretty boring around here without him and Haruto."

"Hmmph. Not only is it boring, now I have to do all the work," said Doujima, her lips twisting in disgust.

What a shame, Amon thought dryly, the corners of his mouth twitching up minutely.

Miho smirked. "We're going to pick up Michael from the hospital in a few hours, so you won't have to 'do all the work' much longer, Yurika."

Doujima just rolled her eyes in response.

"And still no word on Sakaki?" Amon asked.

Both women shook their heads dismally, their cheerful mood quickly plummeting.

Amon, perceiving the sinking morale, found himself unable to say anything to boost their spirits. "Master tells us that a foreign hunter has been lurking around Harry's and asking about STN-J."

"Yes, he's told us the same thing." Miho held Amon's gaze, acknowledging the point she knew he was trying to make. "We know we won't be of much help to you, Amon, but we refuse to give up."

It was then that he noticed the absence of orbo necklaces around the hunters' necks. Had they, then, abandoned the use of the glowing, green liquid? Were they prepared to use "inhumane" measures during a hunt if it was required of them? Frowning in thought, he took a seat at one of the computer terminals in the office.

Meanwhile, Robin, having also seen the lack of orbo pendants, spoke with Karasuma and Doujima. "What happened to your orbo necklaces?"

The hunters exchanged looks of disgust at the mention of the substance. "I'll never use it again," said Miho, crossing her arms. "How could I, knowing what Factory was really doing to the witches we sent there?" She shuddered at the memory. "It's hard to believe we had no idea about its origin. To think, we were trying to be humane compared to Solomon's methods. It's sickening."

Doujima nodded in agreement. "The only reason we're still carrying orbo guns is that Kosaka has to get approval from the police for us to use regular firearms. He and Hattori are there now, speaking with the police chief."

"But… what about your Craft, Karasuma?" Robin glanced at Miho's hands and wondered why she was wearing gloves.

The older hunter's eyes closed for a moment, her expression appearing somewhat pained. "Without the orbo to suppress it, it's become stronger, very…distracting. More frequent. It seems I can't touch anything without scrying it now. It's been quite a while since I felt how powerful my Craft could be."

Amon glanced over at them from the computer terminal at which he'd been typing. He'd been trying to hack back into Solomon's database. He wasn't as talented at hacking as Michael, but he knew enough about Solomon's systems to get around undetected.

His calculating eyes caught one very small, very significant sentence amongst the various information he'd been able to gain access to.

He cleared his throat, drawing their attention.

"It looks like we have another Single-Eye on our hands," he said.

A/N: Descriptions and Translations:

Robin's Prayer:
The snippet of prayer that Robin recites is taken from the song "Salva Nos" ("Save Us"), from the anime series "Noir", performed by Kaida Yuriko; the closing is the Signum Crucis (The Sign of the Cross).
Translation:
Grant us peace and save us from the enemy. Hear us, Merciful Jesus. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.