Hehe, thanks for the new reviews. You make me happy by liking the first few chapters.

Sapphire Dragon Trainer: Thank you very much for your kind words. They are very uplifting.

KrysOfSorrow: I hope I can keep it up, I really do. Considering that this story really shouldn't be all THAT long (maybe about ten chapters, give or take) and I really, really want to make it as in-character and dark as possible...
I think I can do it. I just hope the ending will be to your satisfaction.
Thanks for thinking its going well so far.

Feel no mercy

Oracle sat in the darkness, staring through narrowed eyes at the rays of sunlight streaming in from the slats in the boarded windows. The shop sign still read 'closed', not that many people came into the weapons shop in the first place, but it didn't matter to the girl either way. The money she had stolen from her parent's wallet had been more than she had thought, a few thousand dollars, to be precise. She wouldn't have to worry about anything for months, and all she had left to do was accomplish her mission.

Idly, Oracle took out her glaive, admiring the blades as she twirled it like a baton. Next to her seat, on the counter, sat the glittering mass that was a gauntlet. Both were silent at the moment, content to let the girl listen to her music as it ran softly through her headphones. In this place, there was no need to make the music loud, as the building was as peaceful as the grave.

And it certainly was a grave. After Oracle had woken up in the morning, she had gone to the hidden training room where the body of her old mentor still lay and had discovered a hidden trapdoor in the highest corner of the room that had led to several old, mysterious caverns. The old man had been a crafty one, and Oracle could only guess at how many rooms were hidden beneath the shop. She had found only three, so far, besides the one she had decided to use and seal off to dispose of the body, but she could easily find more, as she hadn't really taken the time to look around. After all, she had worked in the training room for years and only just now had discovered the hidden passages within it.

Feel no pain

"I need more weapons," Oracle said to herself after a long silence, looking at the glaive in her hand and sighing as it started up a dark whisper of a melody in her head, "I need one more weapon," the dark melody turned more pleasant, ringing nicely in tune with her headphones.

Like the old man, I need to do the unexpected. That was his final lesson to me before I disposed of him, Oracle mused, standing and slipping the gauntlet onto her left hand, cracking her knuckles as she did so and sheathing the glaive with a single fluid movement. Like him, I must have a 'knife' when one is not expected. But what sort of proverbial knife shall I take? A sword is far too large for my tastes, and an ax is much too bulky, as is the scythe and pike. Another gauntlet would only get in the way when I tried to slash with the glaive…

A dagger it is, then.

Oracle strode slowly to the displays and looked over the glass cases in the main room, her appraising eye running over each ornate dagger that lay among the other armaments. Sadly, they all seemed to be lacking something, and her experienced gaze picked out so many flaws for each of them that the girl was soon left mildly frustrated at the lack of suitable candidates. Almost reassuringly, the music through her headphones began playing a soothing song, and Oracle calmed marginally.

The weapons in the main room were never all that good, which is why the old man wanted to get rid of them, she told herself in a slow, sure tone, so the best course is to look in the training room again. There were daggers there before; there should be a suitable one now.

Let the animal inside go free

The girl threw open the door to the training room, clicking the pause button on her CD player as she looked around in the darkness, finally finding the light switch and turning it on. The room lit up with the weak light from its single bulb, the weapons in the cases flashing brilliantly. Oracle ran a hand through her orange hair, sighing as she saw an entire wall covered by a display of daggers and knifes. They all looked so perfect, so beautifully lethal and ready to begin another life of bloodshed and torment in the hands of a new owner.

Slowly, ever so slowly, the glaive on her back and the gauntlet on her hand began to take up their death songs, growing in power until Oracle could have sworn that she actually was able to hear the notes outside of her own mind. Oracle wasn't certain when she had begun hearing the strange notes that emanated from weapons, in the first place, and the loudness of them now that she had come to this place was strange; but she suspected that she had always been able to hear at least the whispers of the notes, and that it was the reason she was so drawn to music… The girl shrugged out of her thoughts and walked forward haltingly, keys clinking as she opened the case, throwing the glass panel door open and picking up the first dagger carelessly.

Gods, no! her mind screamed as she hastily put it down, feeling the beginnings of a headache being brought on as the incredibly dissonant cord faded from her memory, being soothed over by her own weapons as their tones took on an almost apologetic note. Sighing, Oracle took a step back, deciding to look over the choices first.

Just by looks alone, she managed to eliminate over half the case. Carefully, she inspected the others by observation, standing back motionless a few feet away from the case and staring up at the glittering blades as the soft music from her CD player was put back on. For several hours she stood like this, as unmoving as a marble statue but mind active and sharp as she carefully and methodically narrowed down the possibilities by pros and cons of size, shape, and effectiveness alone.

Finally, there was but two left.

One blade was a long, flat machete, its heavy, granite-colored blade about the width of her hand and the perfect length to be strapped to her belt but still be hidden by her long shirt. The other was a curved dagger that seemed older than most of the weapons in the room, though its blade was so clean and pristine that its age was in doubt. Carefully, Oracle reached forward and took the latter in her hands, closing her eyes and concentrating as she listened to the cords that rose above and beyond her own music, letting her own weapons make the choice for her.

The harmony rose, swelled until the girl felt that her head might burst if it went on another moment, but suddenly the tune of her glaive took a quick turn, its tone clashing violently with that of the dagger. The gauntlet soon followed its partner's example, turning the music into a screaming contest that reminded Oracle of a lone wolf trying to driven from joining a pack, or even the sudden frenzy of sharks attacking a wounded brethren. Obviously, this dagger had been rejected, and Oracle set it back in its place before the pain throbbing in her temples became any worse.

She reached forward hesitantly for the machete, eyes squinting to prepare for the agony of harsh sound she was expecting, but after several minutes her eyelids rose to look at the single-edged blade normally, noting with surprise that the weapon's hilt fit perfectly and comfortably into the palm of her hand. Surprisingly, her other weapons were utterly silent, and the girl took this as some sort of indication that she should continue. The girl looked closer, inspecting the angle and balance of the weapon, and suddenly took note of an etched pattern in the blade that was so faint, so lightly engraved, that she would never have seen it if the blade hadn't flashed in the light, giving a brief glimpse of a picture.

Slowly, Oracle turned the knife in her hands, careful to keep her fingers away from the sharp edge as she brought the picture into a semblance of focus against the light. After a moment she began to puzzle out the mess of lines, separating the average wear from the image within.

It's an eye, she realized with shock, her own eyes widening, an eye crying tears of blood…

"This is my weapon," Oracle said resolutely, taking the sheath from the display and running her hand over the ancient leather, noticing the same image as that on the blade carved more intricately and clearly upon the charred flesh, with a single word written in old English letters under the strange insignia, "Dirge… A fitting name for such a blade."

I'm ready, Oracle thought as she fastened the sheath to her belt, slipping the machete into it. Faintly, she heard a high-pitched tune, almost like that of a flute; mix with the just beginning songs of her own weapons. The girl entertained the idea that the three were introducing each other, but snorted at her foolish fantasies and closed the case, locking it and, after she had departed from the familiar and yet strange space, the door to the training room as well. She lifted her head to gaze at the boarded windows, silently cursing as she saw the already fading light of evening streaming in through the slats. She hadn't been in the training room that long, had she?

No matter, it was time to go.

Might makes right

Why am I even here? Johnny mused to himself, nervously running his fingers over one of his many knifes and glancing up at the spectacular display of colors that the sun was perpetuating as it began its slow descent under the horizon for one more day. He sighed deeply, wondering if this had been just another joke played on him by the insufferable assholes of the world, I shouldn't be here. I'm on a mission to become cold, not to leap into conflict with strangers on a whim!

Hah! I knew you couldn't resist, my boy! Just as I said, your entire being screams for input! This is just another cry for help, and a step in the right direction!

"What the-? Reverend MEAT?" Johnny spun around from where he was sitting on the hood of his car, eyes narrowing at the all too familiar form of the Bub's Burger Boy sitting on the dashboard innocently. His eyes narrowed angrily, "I left you back home, locked in the closet! How the fuck did you get here?"

Do you seriously think you could get rid of me that easily, Johnny? I am a PART of you! I will never be silent!

"You will be if I MAKE you!" Johnny screamed, threatening the manifestation with his knife as he stood on the hood of his car, body arched like that of a hissing cat and eyes wide and angry. The burger toy sat smugly on the dashboard, smirking in his painted smirk and seeming to look up amusedly at the irate maniac through the curve of the windshield, "I am a slave to NOTHING, goddammit, especially not YOU!"

YES! Give in to your anger! Feel it course through you, making your very skin flare up with hatred! Let's go out to eat!

"NEVER!" spat Johnny, slinking around to the door and throwing it open, his form shadowed but eyes blazing in the brilliance of the sunset behind him as he grabbed the figure, holding it at arms length, though his hand was shaking with the effort not to throw the object of his rage into the abyss that was so close, "I want nothing, I need nothing, I feel NOTHING! I am COLD, you hear me? COLD!"

"Then get a jacket," an icy, almost emotionless voice broke through Johnny's impending rant, and he froze, surprised that he had been caught unawares by the girl from before, who now stood by the spindly tree, both arms crossed over her chest and eyes shadowed by her curving orange bangs. She didn't look like she held any weapons, but as Johnny saw when she moved her arms to lean against the tree, her left hand was covered by a particularly wicked-looking gauntlet of a type he had never previously seen to his knowledge.

As he had noted before, near the 24/7, the girl still wore her thick silver and black headphones, and in the hush he could hear the faint beat of a moderately fast-paced song echoing through the still air. But now in more light, he saw other things, like the unmistakable stains of splattered blood on her boots and jean legs, and the just healing scars of several cuts on her right hand. Absentmindedly the girl raised her hand to finger the long black cord that connected the headphones to her hidden CD player. Even though Johnny couldn't see her eyes, he got the feeling that she was studying him in much the same way he was considering her.

"I see you came prepared," she said finally as her arm dropped gracefully to her side, using that same, chilling tone that conveyed no emotion whatsoever. Johnny blinked, looking down at the long, sharp-angled blade he held in his hand as if he hadn't realized he was still holding it. The girl raised her head a fraction, just enough so that the sunlight reflected off the depths of her yellow-golden eyes. Johnny raised an eyebrow as he looked into them, seeing that even with so much light pouring into those orbs, there was nothing there; no anger, no sadness, no fear, not even annoyance or surprise at finding him talking to a restaurant figurine. Suddenly remembering that the Burger toy was still clutched tightly in his hand, Johnny quickly threw it into the car, hearing a curse and a mumble echo in his head as Reverend MEAT slammed into the door on the opposite side.

"Uh… yeah," he said when it became apparent that the girl was waiting for him to reply, closing the driver's side door on his car.

"Good," the girl's eyes flicked over to the car as the door clicked shut, then to the last fading rays of light coming from the spectacular demise of the sun, "There are no rules, no restrictions. This is a true fight, so death is possible, if not probable. Do you still wish to remain?"

"Death is a normal occurrence in my life," Johnny mumbled to himself icily. The girl nodded solemnly, surprising the maniac that she had heard him, even through her headphones, and moved away from the tree, eyes flicking over again to the sunset.

"It begins when the sun goes under," she said, reaching back and unsheathing her glaive, which Johnny realized had been hidden under her shirt the whole time. To pass the tense moments as the sun slipped further and further down to its doom, he began admiring the weapon she held, noticing that it was extremely well taken care of, as was the gauntlet on her left hand. Idly, the girl began twirling the glaive like a baton, much like she had done at the 24/7, but even then her eyes never left him. Johnny fidgeted in place, beginning to become self-conscious under the scrutiny, and he turned his head slightly just in time to see the last sliver of the sun disappear beneath the distant curve of the world.

When he turned his head back, knife held at the ready to throw, she was gone.

Oh, yes. I happen to enjoy cliffhangers.