Blood
Chapter 10: Resignation
By Fool's Gold
Disclaimer: Garou Densetsu (Fatal Fury), Ryuuko no Ken (Art of Fighting) and all related characters are the property of SNK-Playmore. No profit has been made from this fic.
They hadn't been able to help, just as Rock had predicted. The only thing that their efforts had produced was an ever-increasing cloud of despair that lingered on in the bar, even after its origin had departed for his home.
Jae Hoon, for one, was not particularly delighted with the present state of affairs. It hadn't helped that his hand had contributed, in part, to Rock's depressed departure; on the other hand, though, the question remained as to whether anything could have been done to make their friend's mood any worse that it had already been. Certainly, their dialogue hadn't helped.
"Was I too hard on him?" he mused aloud, to nobody in particular.
"Nah."
Dong Hwan stepped up to the entrance, standing alongside his brother. His words were jovial, but the look on his face bore just a hint of worry – and to an experienced observer like Jae Hoon, that hint was impossibly blatant.
"You know, Jae..." His elder brother's hands braced themselves against the railing and pulled away just as quickly, numbed by the cold metal. "Yow! We've got a cold front coming in. Wouldn't be surprised if it started to snow tonight."
"You don't say," he replied distractedly.
"Personally... if I'd been in your shoes, I'd have slugged him a good one. I think he had it coming."
Jae Hoon turned on his brother, a horrified expression mounting in his eyes. "What do you mean?"
Dong Hwan shrugged in response, a meaningless gesture that seemed almost callous. "Now, don't say that I'm being vindictive because of Saturday's beating –"
"The thought had crossed my mind."
"– but I can't help but notice that every time we've met him, he's done nothing but whine about how miserable his life is, and how evil his uncle is, and how he can't do anything about it. It's tiring, even if it is grounded in truth."
"Glad to see you realised that," Jae Hoon admonished, "and besides, it's not like he hasn't tried. But still..." He turned pensive and left his sentence unfinished.
"Hmm?"
"Think about it, Dong Hwan. Rock worked for Kain as an enforcer, and left his employ alive, which I suppose would be a rare enough occurrence. I still don't know why Kain's let him get away with it so far." Jae Hoon began to number off the points against his fingers. "He's got – correction, he is – first-hand evidence of Kain's dealings, vital information that could break the backbone of the underworld in Second Southtown. And we definitely know that Kain's up to something..."
"Yeah, yeah," his brother muttered. "How many times have I heard that today?"
"Not enough, it seems. My point is that if Kain actually does try anything, Rock's going to be in a lot of trouble." Jae Hoon leant against the banister and sighed as he watched the traffic go by. "Think about it. With that much evidence in his hands, Rock would probably be Kain's primary target. And even if Kain doesn't try to eliminate Rock – not that he'd be very easy to take out – there's still the matter of Rock's own mood."
"I can imagine. He'd probably try something stupid. Believe me, I know that much," Dong Hwan noted wryly. "Speaking of which, there's another point you can add to the list: Hotaru. I don't think any of us could have expected this turn of events, and with Rock's hopeless 'woe is me' pining, it..."
The rest of his sentence was drowned out by the truck that trundled its way down the road. Dong Hwan noted the logo on its side with irritation: Looks like Cheng's Electronics really take after their old boss: slow, heavy, and always getting involved in other people's business. Of course, now that the Heinlein consortium had bought it over – as it had done for most companies in Second Southtown – it just wasn't the same anymore.
"Sorry. You were saying?"
"Stupid deliverymen. Anyway, he kinda reminded me of you, you know, back in the days when you and Jun first started dating," Dong Hwan jibed.
It was strangely gratifying for him to catch his younger brother's expression of disbelief, which hung there for what seemed like an eternity. At least that was how it seemed to the embarrassed Jae Hoon, who denied everything. "I never did anything like that."
Dong Hwan sniggered. "Sure you didn't. Don't tell me he doesn't remind you of a lovesick fool. And now that he's discovered that his lady love's father works for Kain... he's all the more likely to keep things covered up, and all the more likely to do something stupid when the time comes."
The thought had crossed Jae Hoon's mind during their meeting, but there was no point in repeating what they both already knew. "Point taken," he retorted irritably. "Anyway, the fact remains that we're long overdue for a storm. And if Rock doesn't do anything, I fear that he'll be caught in its eye when it breaks."
The scepticism in Dong Hwan's voice nearly masked the suspicion that lay beneath it. "What makes you think that?"
"Did you read the news this morning?"
"Nah."
"You should. But just to make my point clear..." Jae Hoon drew out a copy of the morning news from inside his jacket and handed it to his brother. "Here, check out the front page: it might give you something to think about. In the meantime, I need to get back to the gym."
Dong Hwan took the papers, puzzled. "Well, see ya, bro."
"Later." With that, Jae Hoon walked off, leaving Dong Hwan to glance over the newspaper's contents. As if his brother's hint hadn't been clear enough, the day's headlines stood out starkly, in words so bold it almost hurt to look at them: Heinlein announces latest project – press conference today
"You don't say..."
"Are we there yet, Mr. Anderson?" Bonne Jenet asked impatiently, all attempts at slumber having failed miserably. Somehow, the thoughts of cold, hard cash were enough to keep a woman on her toes – and most definitely this one, who knew profit when she smelled it.
"Yes, ma'am. Shall we go to the usual place?"
She pinched her chin, thinking hard about the ramifications of surfacing at Blue Wave Harbour once more. She didn't really like the feel of their latest job, even if it did pay well, and it would have been wise to stick to familiar ground. But on the other hand, their client had insisted on the meeting point... and the police probably still remembered their earlier forays into Second Southtown via that harbour.
"No." She dismissed the idea with a wave of her hand. "We'll wait up north between the mainland and the island, and send a boat around the western side to make the pickup. I'll personally escort our 'esteemed guest' back to the ship." There was a scornful note in her voice.
"Miss Jenet..." the first mate objected, "isn't going up alone a little dangerous? I mean, our client..."
"Oh, don't worry about that," she laughed. "The man may be a scumbag, but at least he pretends to be a gentleman. And besides, we're his only ticket out of here, so he probably won't try any funny business."
"Are you sure...?" The elderly man doted on her, short fuse and all, and didn't really like the idea of their captain putting herself at risk – not after what had happened during the last delivery. He knew the crew would have had similar objections.
"Of course! Now send out the orders to the rest of the crew, if you please. We've got plenty of time, and if we're going to collect our pay at the end of the day... this'll have to be flawless."
"Aye aye, ma'am!"
The policeman at the entrance of the Southtown Expo looked the deliverymen over with a wary eye. "We're expecting Harold Newman and Thomas Chandra from Cheng's Electronics... That means you two, I presume." The sniffer dog beside him growled at them, sharing his sentiment.
"Yeah, that's us." Harold pointed to the truck with his good hand, where the workmen were already unloading their precious cargo under the careful supervision of Kain's security guards.
"Well, your faces match..." the officer muttered reluctantly, looking back at the checklist he'd been issued. "I'll need to check the crate, though."
"No, it's okay." Thomas had already moved to the back of the truck and was helping to open the box up for inspection. "Be careful, though – this stuff is delicate." The wooden panel on one side fell away, revealing the black casing of what looked more like a giant water tank.
"What's it supposed to be?" The policeman was naturally suspicious when it came to large black containers without labels, and he wasn't going to let a potential bomb anywhere near the building unchallenged. "Looks dangerous."
Harold stuck to the cover that they'd prepared. "It's supposed to be a demonstration of Mr. Heinlein's latest project, some sort of portable generator." As far as the police knew, that was true – they'd made Kain submit a complete inventory before issuing the license. "He says it'll revolutionise the power industry."
"I'll have to take a look inside the 'generator' itself, then."
Harold and Thomas exchanged worried glances. This was something they'd expected but hadn't prepared for, even if Kain had assured them that it would pass inspection: they didn't want to be caught with explosives in their possession. Besides, Kain had also cautioned them over the equipment's delicate state, and neither of the two wanted to handle the bomb any more than was necessary. But if they failed to comply, that would only arouse more suspicion...
"Is something the problem, gentlemen?"
"No problem, officer." Thomas worked the lid open gingerly, exposing the device's inner works with trepidation while Harold held his breath, his hand itching for a pistol as he prepared for the worst. This was it: the gig was up, and Kain had set them up for the fall. Thomas slowly removed the cover, barely daring to look into the case...
"Hmm. Looks normal to me," the policeman said, startling Harold into a fit of coughing.
In fact, it looked exactly as a portable generator should have, except that it took up a lot more space – empty space too, judging from the hollow chamber that didn't seem to serve any purpose. The sniffer dog padded towards it slowly, then abruptly sank down on its haunches and whined, giving its controller a look of confusion.
"I thought advanced technology these days was about making things smaller, not bigger." The policeman scratched his head in puzzlement. Something was wrong about this, but he couldn't place his finger on it... and besides, the dog hadn't noticed anything wrong with it either. "Okay, it's cleared."
The other workers began to move the black monolith into the main hall, leaving the deliverymen to continue puzzling over the true nature of their cargo.
"I thought he said it was a..."
"Don't say it, Harold. Just don't say it."
I, the undersigned, do solemnly declare that everything written in this statement is true.
Rock's hand dropped to his side as he looked back, completely drained, on the words he'd written. Perhaps they'd forgive him for this: it was what they wanted, wasn't it? It would cost him everything he'd known, but he'd do it. Jae Hoon had been right – it was time to bring an end to the foolish charade which he'd embarked on for the past few months. And now he held the cords to the final curtain in his hands.
He hoped his mother wouldn't be saddened by this sudden turnaround. It was she who, when all other threats and incentives had failed, had finally spurred him to do the impossible. As her son, he had to discharge his duty and settle accounts with his uncle. It was the only thing he could have done to avenge her – her isolated life, her unmourned death... and most of all, the way in which her memory had been posthumously abused.
It's personal as well, isn't it? a familiar voice whispered. And in response, he only smiled. He no longer argued with it – for once, they were in agreement.
Yes, this was about his revenge as well. His motives were not pure: he had never pretended that they were. It was just coincidence that what he now did would be for the greater good of Second Southtown. The others – the ones who had helped him settle into a brief moment of regular life, and at the same time reluctantly urged him to sacrifice it – they could keep their noble ideals. And if his revenge would help them in their struggle, it would be all the better.
Rock's gaze shifted back to the other, bulkier package that rested on the table – the one that Terry had given him a while ago. There lay another set of family accounts that would have to be settled. He wondered what Hotaru would do with the information given: would she follow in his guilty footsteps and seek out her father and brother, to purge the stain of shame from her family name? But he knew she was wiser than that – she would entreat them to leave their lives of killing, all in vain. And she would hate him doubly: first for hiding the truth from her, and second for revealing it.
It wouldn't matter anyway. Forgiveness didn't count where he was headed. All that mattered was that she would know the truth, something which he had been denied.
He lifted his pen back up to the table and appended his signature to the confession with a surprisingly steady hand – the confidence of a condemned man.
It was time, and Kain's men knew it. They were almost sick from the waiting, and the atmosphere that pervaded the lobby of the convention centre was one of tense anticipation.
Goto considered himself exempt from such trivial emotions, but even he was not immune to the mounting tension that exuded from his subordinates. He lounged in a distant corner, seemingly disinterested in the proceedings, but his eyes continued to scan the hall from behind half-closed eyelids.
One of the henchmen in particular caught his attention, a young man with a nervous disposition; that man had been the unfortunate hostage from Saturday's... incident. What was Kain thinking? If this man should mess up – and from the looks of things, it may be very likely – our plans will be dashed. Kain's become cocky...
There were too many things that could go wrong. A shot out of carelessness, a misplaced word, a rogue element – or two, even. Kain could not have ignored the possibility of his nephew's intervention, from desperation or insanity; Goto was not willing to rule out his son, who would probably let their feud spill over into his work. 'The best laid plans', as they said, had a tendency to go wrong at the worst possible times. Even now, there were at least two policemen for every one of Kain's men in the hall; the situation would be disadvantageous for them if they tried to act out of hand.
It wasn't that Goto was worried; he simply considered the situation like a seasoned analyst, picking apart the holes in the plan. Kain must surely have considered all this, Goto thought. The crimelord hadn't risen to the top of Southtown's underworld by being reckless – but this uncharacteristic carelessness smacked of sheer overconfidence.
Which means, of course, that he has an ace up his sleeve... and he didn't bother telling us about it. It just gave him another reason to distrust the man – not that he'd ever trusted him in the first place. Their alliance was merely one of convenience, and he, at least, thought it was on rather shaky ground.
Goto stalked towards the entrance leisurely, and opened the doors into the wind-blasted outdoors. The wind had picked up in strength, and not even the greediest paparazzo would have gone out into this sort of weather for the sake of earning his keep. Those who had turned up for the conference had also wisely decided to stay within the sheltered confines of the hall.
Kain had certainly picked an opportune time to act.
A black limousine pulled up to a halt before the Expo, and its passenger stepped out into the freezing air. Kain, it seemed, was in a relatively good mood, and Goto didn't fault him.
Still, he decided to warn him about the possibility of failure. "Mr. Heinlein..." he began, escorting his employer up the front steps. But Kain paused in his ascent, turning away from the entrance and facing the city.
"It's been a while..."
"Mr. Heinlein?" Goto repeated. "The conference is about to start soon."
"I know, I know," Kain replied, mildly amused by his right-hand man's urgency. "I just wanted to enjoy the weather."
Goto stared hard at Kain's back. "With all due respect, Kain... you must be joking. The weather forecast predicts that this winter is going to be the harshest one in fifteen years." As if to illustrate his point, a snowflake suddenly drifted lazily onto Kain's outstretched hand, with many more following in its wake. "I'm going in first. The audience is waiting." He turned back and began to walk away, leaving Kain to 'enjoy' the first snowfall of winter.
The most powerful man in Second Southtown waited for Goto to depart before murmuring, "So, the east wind finally blows..." But it only howled in response, whipping up a shower of snow about his face. He would have to go in soon.
Grant, Marie... this is for you. And with that, Kain turned his back on the town and entered the convention centre.
Gato bunched his fists, crushing the sheet of paper into a compact mass before hurling it away. So, the old fool had finally decided to end their feud, had he?
It's time.
He bounded across the rooftops, moving steadily towards his appointment.
"Turn up the thermostat, dear," Myun called out. "It's getting cold."
Over in the living room, Kim plodded reluctantly towards the central heater, his movements slowed by the numbing chill. Back in his younger days, he would have shrugged off weather like this in youthful abandon, claiming that the fires of Justice would keep him warm. But things had changed.
His old wound ached, and it was more than the wind that renewed his pain. The injury that had killed him – almost, he corrected himself – had caused him more trouble in the past years than he cared to admit. These days, he was more content to let Jae Hoon take the reins and carry on the good fight.
I'm getting soft, he thought ruefully, turning up the dial a notch or two. A part of him still wanted to go out into the field... but in the end, his family came first. And the last thing he wanted was for them to lose him again.
He made his way back to the sofa, turning the television on. After all, Kain R. Heinlein was making a special announcement, and that was reason enough to be wary. "Jae?" he called to his son, calling him down. "It's starting."
Jae Hoon was just in time. He watched as the elegant man on the TV screen walked up to the podium, where the announcer had just handed the microphone over to the star of the day's show. The cameras focused in on Kain's face, sending a wave of disgust through both father and son: things never changed. Every time an evildoer was evicted from his throne, another would step up to take his place.
Kim turned the volume up, now listening intently to every word that left Kain's lips.
"Ladies and gentlemen, citizens of Second Southtown... Good evening."
"It has been about a decade since our town was destroyed, and we have come a long way since. She has been a source of both sorrow and joy to me – sorrow from seeing Southtown in ashes, and joy in building Second Southtown into a city that surpassed her former glory. And I would like to thank all of you – you who have contributed to the resurrection of Second Southtown in a way which even I could not match. It is in honour of such people that I wish to announce my latest project.
"But first, allow me to digress."
Terry gave cautious glances at his television set, continuing his conversation over the phone: "As I was saying..."
"Yeah, I got the heads-up from one of my men." The note of concern in his brother's voice was clearly audible. "So, what do you think?"
"Not good." Terry was mentally kicking himself for not having taken any action earlier. "If the weathermen are correct – not that I take any stock in them, of course – we're due for a blizzard. And if the weather goes on like this..."
He looked through the closed window, watching as the fall of snow slowly increased in intensity. "They might close the airports."
Behind him, the voice continued in its deceptively nostalgic tones. "When I returned to Second Southtown after my time overseas..."
"...it was definitely an eye-opener. I never thought that the city I loved could have been changed – no, disfigured – to such an extent. There was no way that the wreck I stood in could have been my beloved hometown. And so, I endeavoured to rebuild the town, to bring it back from the dead. But even as I laboured, I noticed the resilience and tenacity that all of you displayed: how the people of Southtown, in spite of the terrible destruction that had been wrought, were able to proceed with your lives as though nothing had happened. And I was amazed."
"Who's he tryin' ta kid?" Duck King exclaimed in disbelief, handing over a mug of beer to the solitary customer in front of him. "An' he needs a better scriptwriter, too."
The man proved more receptive to Kain's words, however. "Give the man a break, Duck... I mean, he has done so much for this town. The guy can be excused for being a bit melodramatic."
The fancy-haired bartender looked at him as though he was mad. "Yeah, yeah. And if ya believe all dat rigmarole, ya'd think he'd grow a halo. Hey, Sally! How's da webcam goin'?"
"It's running fine." the waitress replied from her post at one of the empty tables, before returning to the screen of the laptop that had been hastily set up not too long before. Her fingers flew over the keyboard, sending out a message:
Receiving?
Image grainy, audio functional.
Should've installed a better TV, boss.
Elizabeth, peering over her twin's shoulder, suppressed a laugh. "Does she know what's going on?"
"She should." Sally typed out a terse query. Opinion?
The message came back almost as quickly: Have notified husband and in-laws. Advise caution.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Dong Hwan butted in, taking refuge from the cold. "Man, I don't blame Rock for not coming here... Hey, what's the poof saying now?"
The staff and patron of the Illusion looked up at the television set.
"It was not too great a surprise when I discovered that Southtown's greatest strength was also a glaring weakness. And it was then that I asked you this: "What are you willing to fight for?" It was certainly not independence, or my push for secession might actually have worked. And you are not driven by ideology or foolish sentiment, which possesses people to commit acts of madness.
"But the men and women of Southtown have shown their character, in that what they fight for is more ordinary – and yet more noble – than that which I have mentioned above. You will fight to preserve what you know best: the continuity of daily life."
"I do not blame you. It is no wrong to seek an ordinary life – where one can dwell without being constantly interrupted by threats to life and limb and property. And it has been my goal, in these past years, to make sure that this goal can be attained. If I have failed in that aspect, I ask your forgiveness." Kain looked over the hounds of the media with a concealed disdain, and in spite of the flattering tone of his words, he could not resist making a jab at them.
"But lately, I too have desired to lead a normal life. To bear the responsibilities of a normal man, to live freely without fear of salacious reports and whispered rumours... I seek such a life too, as much as the rest of you do." Expressions of discomfort appeared on the faces of some of the more disreputable hacks, but the others hung onto his words, not suspecting anything.
He decided that the time had come to drop the bombshell. "And that is why I have decided that as soon as this latest project is complete... I shall retire from Second Southtown."
As predicted, the hall suddenly came to life. He watched as the journalists and reporters whipped themselves into a frenzy, fighting with one another in their rush to convey the news back to the agency, and despised them even more than he had before. Dogs. That's all they are.
In the midst of their consternation, none of them saw Goto slip out of the back of the hall, having received his cue.
As predicted, the policemen were in a state of shock – although he was unsure if they were pleased by the sudden revelation. Clearly, however, they were now more focused on the content of Kain's message than his henchmen.
Goto raised his hand silently, giving them the signal to take up their positions. All that was needed was the right opportunity...
The sudden beep of a walkie-talkie broke up their animated discussion. One of the policemen raised it, shouting, "What is it?"
There was a rasp of static, and behind it, the sounds of gunfire and the shrieks of the dying. A man's voice cried out, "All units, we need backup! It's Freeman..."
And suddenly, the voice was cut off.
"Quickly," the sergeant on duty yelled. "We need to get to..."
"I'm sorry, officer, but we can't allow you to do that." And Goto struck with blinding speed at the man's neck, snapping it. He was dead before the radio set touched the floor, his service revolver still in his holster. The dog at his side leapt up, ready to defend its master, but Goto dispatched it with a blow to its torso that shattered its ribs. It dropped down limply, its heart punctured by fragments of bone.
Wordlessly, Kain's men began their slaughter. Caught unawares, the policemen had no time to react: they were swiftly killed by the bare hands of the men whose weapons had been confiscated less than an hour before. They died soundlessly, unable to even give a dying cry, let alone fight back against such a sudden assault.
The last man fell to the ground, his spine broken in three places. And behind the closed doors of the main hall, where the press sat in ignorance, Kain's speech continued.
"I do not do this lightly; even though it pains me to leave this place, I have decided on it. You can be assured that there will be others, in time, to fill my place, and that they will do a much better job than I can possibly do."
"Still, I am loath to leave the town of my birth without making one final contribution. As you all may bear witness, I have longed to see Southtown free – a town where the people can truly claim that they rule themselves, where they are able to act as they will without restrictions or controls from the outside world. And though I have not been able to secure her freedom politically, I shall endeavour, with this final work of mine, to pave the way for others to succeed where I have failed."
"Calling Unit Four, over! Calling Unit Four, over! Do you copy? Damn..." Kevin bellowed into the radio, only to receive no response. He looked to his superior, who had already slipped into her trademark green jacket, a look of fury on her face. "There's no response from the Expo either, Inspector... and no prizes for guessing who's behind it."
"No prizes," Blue Mary agreed grimly. "Muster all our remaining units in the station, and prepare to move out. We're in trouble."
The doorbell rang, startling the two women who, until now, had been watching the report with rapt attention.
"My goodness, it's odd to have anyone out in such terrible weather," Mrs. Yardsley said. "I'll go see who it is."
Hotaru rose up and stopped her, smiling. "I'll get it, ma'am. Don't trouble yourself." Itokatsu pawed at her ankle, following her into the hallway.
The truth of the matter was that she couldn't stand seeing Kain's face. The thought that such a sophisticated man could have been responsible for all the deeds that Rock had mentioned... The thought was sickening, but true: an evil heart could always lurk behind a handsome front. And that beatific smile that hung on his face only served to nauseate her even more.
The same could have been said of the one who had provided her with such information, she knew. Now that Mrs. Yardsley had given her the news, there was no longer any reason to trust Rock Howard: for all she knew, he was planning to use her in his own private vendetta against his uncle. Maybe he was using her search, in some complicated way, to dig up more dirt against the man or eat away at his foundations.
In spite of all that, she wanted to trust him.
It was an irrational feeling that came over her, one without firm grounding in evidence or truth. But she'd drifted from city to city aimlessly, chasing after shadows that never wanted to be found... and fate's currents had brought her to Second Southtown time and again. And it was Rock who had given her the first signs of hope, and a reason to stop wandering. He'd given her an anchor, and she prayed that it would not prove untrustworthy.
She braced herself against the wind and opened the door.
To her shock, she found the very person she had been thinking of, and the last person she had wanted to meet. His appearance was horrific: his lips had turned bloodless, and the icy wind had left snowy drifts in his hair, giving him a wild look. The biker jacket he wore offered him only scant protection against the growing chill.
He must be freezing, Hotaru thought, and instantly blurted out, "What are you doing out here?" She seized his arm, trying to drag him into the warmer hallway, but he shook himself free with a violent wrench.
Strangely enough, his teeth did not chatter from the cold. "Don't bother," he said stoically, even if he had to whisper it through chapped, cracked lips. "I came to deliver something." With stiffened fingers, he drew out her envelope from his jacket. "Terry and Mary gave me this package last week. It concerns your brother..."
"Don't be stupid, Rock. Come in," she pleaded, refusing to take it from his hand. There were too many questions left unanswered, she knew, but there was no time for them here, not in his condition.
"No," he declined, unheeding. "I..."
And as though she was in a dream, she heard the final words of Kain R. Heinlein ringing ominously in her ears:
"At the end of this project, you shall see Southtown as she was truly meant to be. She will be greatly changed, remade in the spirit of her original founders and leaders: a city where the mighty rule.
"So, citizens of Second Southtown, I bid you..."
Kain reached into his pocket, finding the familiar cylindrical shape of the detonator in his hand. He found its presence strangely comforting, as though it reminded him that his final duties to the town were about to be discharged.
"...goodnight."
He pressed the button.
And the Expo was consumed by a brilliant incandescence, and the screams of men and women drowned out by the sounds of thunder.
Hotaru heard the dull booming sounds, vaguely reminiscent of fireworks, but the sinking feeling in her heart and the shaking ground told her otherwise. And for her, time slowed to a crawl:
She saw Rock pulling away from her in panic, letting the envelope drift to the ground and looking out into the street from where the sounds had come. And she watched his pupils widen as the giant wave of light bore down on them, swallowing buildings whole as it wiped out everything in its path.
She reached out for him, but he evaded her grasp. In a single, furious action, he gripped her by the shoulders and thrust her away. She felt the ground depart from her feet, felt herself falling into the house slowly, felt the cold floor as she landed painfully on her back...
She caught one last glimpse of his eyes as he slammed the door shut in her face: pained eyes, guilt-tinged and despairing.
And the next thing she knew, the blast was upon them.
Notes:
Yes, Kain does need a better scriptwriter.
Personally, I share Dong Hwan's sentiment: I have a tendency to get carried away when going into Rock's gloom-and-doom passages, and as a result, the material has a tendency to repeat itself. After all, there are only so many ways you can say, "Life sucks."
SakurAsAsamiyA: Big words do not a good story make, and I hope I have not confused anyone too greatly. Thanks for the input. Pairing-wise, you can probably guess how it'll go – I hope my intentions were clear.
Everyone else: It's not over yet, so stick around and enjoy the show.
C&C, as always, is greatly appreciated.
