TATTOO YOUR SOUL

Somewhere in central China, strange newspaper articles were circulating.

A lone witness had reported unusual events on the bullet train. Investigators had come barging in, attacking a lone, foreign customer. And, somehow, angels protected the American, sending forth some sort of divine light to save him.

Angels are very real in this world, and so are the demons of fairy tales, but not like they are written. Angels exist in every sense of the word. They move and walk among normal humans, unaware of the unearthly presence beside them. But they are not divine creatures, messengers of God. No, no heralds and choirs are these. But no newspaper article can capture their grace, for angels are those who would give their lives for other human beings.

Both the interlopers and the foreigner disappeared shortly after.

xxxx

The game had ended.

Something had happened, changing the rules of engagement, especially from Solomon's side. Amon wondered that from the hours of bright, awful lighting. It was a psychological torture of sorts. Not letting the captives sleep. Not letting them have any idea of time. It was simple, really. Disorientate the pair, tire them out, and try to catch them off guard. Obviously drugging hadn't worked on Kathain, so other tactics were employed.

However, once the soldiers came storming back in, armed with guns and protective Orbo, Amon knew the situation had changed. Amon pushed the precognitive behind him, deeper into the corner of the room. The hunter didn't know what they had done the first time to Kathain; he wouldn't let them repeat it.

The soldiers rushed them, attacking suddenly and fiercely.

Kathain's heart leapt, just as it always did before something terrible happened. The precognitive's head ached, throbbing with each and every heartbeat. She shook her head, fighting back the energy welling up within her. There was a dragon within Kathain, an ancient beast living deep inside the girl's body, her heart, her soul, a creature of her energy and spirit. This beast was the dragon of her Craft, the source of her power. It lifted its head, intrigued by the soldiers who threatened the girl, but Kathain fought it, clawing at the beast of energy with all the strength she could muster.

The girl could not set it free.

Amon barked some sort of threat to the men, but Kathain could not hear it.

The girl clutched her head, struggling against the old dragon that was her gifts. A volcano grew within, burning. The energy was too strong, too great. She couldn't bear it as the soldiers approached, obviously with the intent of doing harm. The energy beckoned so sweetly to the girl, calling to her to use it, to just allow her gifts to happen.

Kathain refused.

She wasn't like that, nor would she ever be. The precognitive had enough to deal with just being what she was, just seeing what she did. Kathain would not take up the mantle of her position. The girl denied fate and denied the dark powers lurking inside.

"No…"

Amon struck out, punching furiously at the first to get close to him, knocking the green clad man back. He gritted his teeth like a wolf, fighting and attempting to purely bash his way through the seemingly endless sea of green. The soldiers fought back, but Amon was a whirlwind, a hurricane. At least, until the butt of a gun came down sharply on Amon's head, sending the former hunter back and into the corner with Kathain.

The dragon within unfurled its wings, catching the breeze and leaping from its perch; her Craft took flight.

She flinched at the sight of the gash, his black hair growing red and sticky from the blood, but Kathain ignored it. "Amon, hit me!" The man furrowed his eyebrows, but the soldiers drew closer. "Hit me!"

He didn't have time to argue. Instead, Amon reached out and slapped Kathain, as lightly and, yet, as harshly as he could. Her cheek stung and burnt, but her heart more so. Amon felt the energy roll off her body as the air grew sharp and static. Her eyes shifted from crisp, perfectly ocean blue, to black, dark as the night and shadows themselves. The air stank of o-zone. Her hair stood on end. Static snapped and popped behind her eyes.

Kathain let loose.

It was beautiful. Terrible and beautiful at the same time. Amon could not have imagined a more perfectly awful thing spewing from the girl. An anemone, glowing brightly, begging to behold, but excruciating to be held. Amon had no words to describe it, this pure power, so completely different and strange compared to the usual crafts of witches. He stared in amazement as the Kathain stiffened, allowing everything to pass through her and out, into the room.

Her wings unfolded.

Bolts of flashing, streaking lightning surged out from Kathain. Lightbulbs blew with a rain of glass shards. The electricity arced outward from the girl, touching each and every one of the soldiers and their pistols, zapping them with a spike of energy. All of the soldiers and Kathain sank to their knees.

Kathain recovered far more quickly than the soldiers as Amon hauled her up fiercely. His head still reeled from the blow delivered to his head.

"Zaizen! What the hell are you up to?"

No one answered,

"Amon…." Kathain sounded tired, so very tired.

The hunter gave her a small nudge, trying to keep her conscious. "Stay with me." He reached down and picked her up, cradling the girl against him. "Kathain…"

"Amon, help me…" the girl whispered.

The former hunter nodded.

In truth, as the Solomon agents regrouped, climbing to their feet and shaking off the last bits of electricity, Amon realized he had no idea how to help Kathain. In truth, he no longer had any idea how to help the girl, let alone have any clue what she was. Instead, Amon only knew he could hold her and try to keep her safe as the soldiers reached for her. They ripped her from Amon's grasp, but they didn't take her far. No, instead, in a flash, Amon found both himself and the burnt out Kathain bound to steel chairs, as the soldiers left them.

He didn't look up as Zaizen strolled into the room, not wanting to even spare a glance at the mass of burn scars along the right side of the man's face.

"Ugly, isn't it?" the head of Solomon seemed to know what Amon thought of, but the former hunter didn't even deign to acknowledge his former commander in chief. "You know, this is what your friend, Robin, left me with that night." Amon turned away, but Zaizen grabbed the captive man, turning Amon's face to look upon those mangled scars. "It's been a while, Amon."

"Not long enough."

Zaizen laughed. "Still stubborn to the end, eh Amon?" The scarred man gave Amon a slap on his shoulder, trying his best to feign friendliness. "Just like old times."

"Yeah."

Old times neglected to mention when Amon had been the lap dog of the STN-J and Solomon, running this way and that, doing terrible things in the name of "good." It failed to point out when Solomon attacked the STN-J, shooting on Amon and his colleagues, Robin included.

But Amon knew precisely how to strike back. "How's Touko?"

Kathain could almost taste the rage dripping off of the suited, scarred man. Zaizen twitched slighty for a moment, easily enraged at the utterance of that name. Swiftly, Zaizen swung his arm, backhanding Amon sharply and harshly. Kathain cringed at the sound and the sight of it, looking away. Amon grinned, licking the blood from his newly split lips.

Zaizen straightened himself, adjusting his tie. "She's better."

"What do you want?" Amon spoke slowly, menacingly.

His former employer and commander smiled devilishly. "It's not what I want from you, Amon." Zaizen turned slowly, facing Kathain; she squirmed uneasily, feeling his hungry eyes roaming. "It's what Solomon wants from HER." Zaizen circled her, a vulture stalking his prey. "We've been looking for a person like for you for a long time."

"Leave her out of this," Amon growled.

"What?" Zaizen turned suddenly. "What were you going to say? 'This is between you and me.'" The scarred man let out another haughty laugh. "This is between myself and Miss Kathain. She can speak for herself." He returned his attention to the girl. "Isn't it, Kathain?"

"Yes…." She murmured the word, dejected.

Zaizen nodded. "They told me you wouldn't cooperate when interrogated."

Kathain shrugged, still tugging and pulling at the metal cuffs around her wrists. "Not really."

"I had suspected so." Zaizen stalked about, stepping on almost delighted feet as he slipped behind Amon; Kathain watched with wide eyes. "I guess you just needed the right…." He paused, savoring the threat at hand, the way it made Kathain's heart flutter and her chest heave with terrified, panting breathes. "Incentive…."

"What are you getting at?" Amon asked the question.

Another blow was delivered to the former hunter's head, courtesy of Zaizen. "Now, it's not polite to interrupt. Kathain and I were just talking. So don't be so rude."

"Please…" she whimpered. "Don't hurt him."

Zaizen glared. "I know you've seen the Thirteen. I know you know what I'm talking about." Kathain gasped; this was her dream, the information they wanted to know that she could no give. "Tell me what I want to know, work with Solomon, and I'll let your friend, here go. No fuss. No muss. Call it a business arrangement."

"Don't tell him…."

Kathain blinked. Amon didn't know what Zaizen spoke of, but he knew better. If the Thirteen were anything to warrant Solomon's attention like that, Zaizen couldn't know. It had to be kept secret and safe, whatever it was. Kathain couldn't believe the former hunter would give his life for the Thirteen. And still, even the precognitive had no answers, not for herself or for Zaizen. Even she did not know everything.

"Tell me."

Kathain looked away. "I can't."

Zaizen struck Amon again, leaving a bright, pink mark that would probably bloom dark purple in time. "Tell me what I want to know."

"I can't tell you what I don't know…."

Now, Kathain cried, sobbing in terror. Her body trembled, shaking nervously, in sheer panic, sensing what was coming next, knowing what would happen to her, to Amon. Kathain wanted to close her eyes and open them, only to be back in bed, having just dreamt a terrible nightmare. The girl desperately wished that this world, this awful, white room, was but a glimmer of illusion and paranoid fabrication. Unfortunately, this was no lie, not even a bending of reality. No, this was real. Very real. Dangerously real, and with utterly, appallingly real consequences.

Zaizen grinned a toothy smile. "Well, then, if that's the case, then you just think about it. Try and see if some time jogs your memory." He strolled towards the door, sauntering with the poise and delight of a deadly, man-eating lion. "I'll be back."

The girl waited for a moment before she let the tears fall, rolling down her cheek.

"Kathain…"

It was Amon.

He spoke so softly, with an impeccable composure despite the sound blows dealt to him. Kathain looked up, meeting his sight with trepidation. Amon's gray eyes gazed upon her warmly, despite the minor pain that had already been inflicted to him at Kathain's fault.

She could scarsely speak. "…. Yes? Amon?"

"What do they want to know?"

Kathain shook her head. "I don't know."

"You know about the Thirteen, whatever that is," Amon accused, sternly but softly. "You know what they're looking for."

The precognitive nodded slowly. "Sorta." The girl turned her head away, suddenly gravely studying the pattern of tile joints on the floor. "I know about what they're looking for, but I don't know what they want."

Amon gave a small nod. "It's the others, isn't it?"

"Yes," Kathain muttered.

"Then, alright."

And, with that, Amon fell silent, letting the quiet roar between the two. And, somehow, it was alright. The former hunter seemed resigned to his lot in life, but accepting of it. And, strangely, Kathain's heart swelled with both sympathy and admiration at the same time. They sat and awaited their shared their fate, whatever suffering and torment it held.

Sometimes, waiting is the hardest thing to do.

xxxx

Schweet! 'nother chapter fueled by roommate rage.