I lost my disk in which I kept my all my WHR past chapters—but then I got it back. It's not like it would've affected this chapter though cuz I hadn't started to write it yet. Anyhow, I understand if you guys hate me for updating so late. I hate myself too. Well, this chapter is kinda weird cuz I wrote it while in a cold and heavily medicated. I beg for you guys to be patient and read along.
This is it, the chapter second to the last. It has more inside stuff I hadn't added yet so soak and bathe in it people cuz it took me forever to write. Okay, peachiness.
"Influenza—do you have that? I do not like your coloring lately, you young people and your STDs."
A muscle in Amon's jaw twitched but the diseased lady in the terrycloth robe didn't seem to notice.
"And all that black…I have a nephew just like you. Wears metals all over and shows them off!" she shook her head so that her small curly, silver hair bounced like springs, "He asked me for money to get a 'Prince Edward', do you know what that is? Maybe a nice conservative hair cut like those princes, huh? If that is the case I'll give him his birthday money early…your hair is starting to look a bit sloppy dear, do you want to go get a 'Prince Edward' with my nephew, I'm sure he won't mind."
"…….."
"Well, honey, it was nice talking to you. If you ever need anything don't be afraid to call me," with that she turned and slammed the door in his face. Amon blinked blankly at the pewter F9 on the door. It would've been a disturbing conversation if he hadn't heard it at least three times every week.
Once in his own apartment he strode from room to room turning every single light on. There had once been a time when he had found pure sanctuary in the darkness. It soothed his mind and drove his inner demons away. He had time to think calmly on everything, sorting through the maze his emotions created. Darkness didn't suit him today even if it made him feel safe, not this time. In the darkness, reflected on the oval mirror he could see Robin's body. In the shadowy corners, he sensed her glowing eyes. Everywhere, she was just everywhere. At least in light he could see the true thing reflected in the mirror: a somber, tall man with great bags under his eyes and a haunted look about them.
Closing his eyes for a moment he watched all the horror of the past days replay in his eyelids. Nothing made sense…how did all end up like this? Both Sakaki and Doujima were injured, Karasuma, even if the brain swelling had gone down, might remain bedridden…and he didn't know what to do.
He knew, he always knew but everything had just…
A door slammed out in the corridor and kids shouted in the floor above, pounding their little feet on his ceiling—his head. The world was full of sound that pierced the insides of his skull and the numerous bright lights were torturing him slowly but he refused to turn them off.
Amon entered his small bathroom and headed for the shower. The blast came out colder than melted snow so he left it on and walked away. The STN-J had offered to pay for a comfortable apartment in town but he had rebuffed. What he wanted was to be closer to Raven's Flat as possible, work was what he did. He didn't need comforts or working showers or good neighbors, he didn't need anything…or at least that was what he had thought.
Upon returning to the bathroom, the shower had refrained from spitting icy water to blistering hot already. The water seemed to mar and sting all over bit it washed everything off, everything way. Robin…STN-J…his entire life flowed down the drain. It numbed the throbbing in his head and stopped the flowing thoughts crowding his head. Nothing, there was nothing left either way…nothing at all.
Even through the thick vapor of the water Amon could see the smear of Orbo on his hand. It looked greener than ever against his pasty, white skin. Holding it before him Amon's new tranquility disappeared to be replaced by pointless rage. Right there, it wouldn't disappear, it was there, the simple stain that refused to wash away, the sin he wouldn't fail to repent for his entire life. Hastily he reached for a bar of soap and scrubbed until the skin felt raw. Minutes passed, the water fell, and the world clouded over but the sin shined true like a beacon in the pitch darkness of a vast ocean. The shower wasn't exactly roomy but even in the size of it the flying bar of soap stuck a tile with enough force to shatter it into half. He turned off the water and leaned his forehead into the opposite wall feeling the vapor slowly disperse and a chill settle all over his skin.
Life had been better before she had fallen into their lives. Everything had never been this baffling or agonizing. Work, protocol, work—that had been his entire world but…even if it was hurtful and perplexing he felt awake. Meeting her, spending time with her had been like waking from a deep sleep thousands of years old. He had opened his eyes wide but like real sleep, he had been keen on pressing the snooze button on her, closing his eyes and simply putting her on hold, pushing her away.
Could he do that now?
Exiting the bathroom with only a towel around his waist Amon headed for his closet casting a glance at his clock; two fifteen. Outside his window the city slept and only the occasional barking dog or ambulance could be heard. He buttoned down a clean black shirt and put on a pair of trousers.
No…he couldn't sleep, not anymore.
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"It was like…god, it was so fucking awesome. The guy knows how to kiss let me tell you," Jung sighed in a dreamy sort of voice. "What a man…to think he would pick a scrawny little thing like you."
Robin's eyes were half-closed behind her bandana. With the exception of the insult and if you took out the fact that the man she was talking about was Amon, Robin could've sworn this was Doujima before her with another of her 'boy' monologues, not the aggravating Jung that had been pestering her for the past half hour with details of Amon's 'fucking awesome' kiss. It wasn't all that bad if she simply tuned her out like she had tuned out Doujima countless of times but the tiny leap of jealousy still inflamed her insides whenever Amon's name was mentioned.
"Hey, do you think I'm his type? Without a disguise I mean. After this is done and the STN falls he will be left at our mercy—mine actually. Louis already promised me I could keep him."
"He is not a simple dog you can call your own," Robin snapped astounding even herself. It had been the first time she had led her annoyance get voiced out loud. For the past days her shock and feelings of vulnerability had diminished to be replaced with irritation and contempt. She had felt it stronger after Louis had left her with his last words trailing along the air like toxic fumes. "You are not Amon's type if you were he might've kept kissing you."
Jung's high-pitched laugh echoed in the small area making Robin involuntarily cringe, "He didn't shoot me you silly you. He shot his little partner in crime: you."
Robin's voice threaten to falter as she responded but she held her head high and forced as much conviction as she could muster, "No, he shot you not me. Amon knows me, the real me. The me you probably failed to be and made him realize you really weren't his type."
The infamous clock's tick Robin had learned to despise found its way into the room while Jung went dead silent. It was a pensive silence, a silence full of fresh uncertainty but as soon as it had come it had gone. Robin's lips betrayed her by letting a frantic gasp escape as nails, sharp as small knives dug into her nape.
"So that's it huh?" Jung asked monotonously while cutting Robin's oxygen, "You are the one who makes him 'tick', the one who drives him…is that so? You have a very big head; maybe I should deflate it for you a bit."
Jung let her neck go and for a moment Robin felt infuriated and affronted enough to try and kick the woman but before she could do anything Jung pounced. The chair's legs screeched with the force as it was dragged and slammed against the wall behind.
All the while both hands with razor-sharp nails alike crushed Robin's esophagus making her obscure world spin about within seconds. An inhuman sound was forced out of her as her system choked and gagged for precious air. She would die right here in the hell hole they had created for her. Along with the devils and ghosts whispering at her from the shadows, now they beckoned knowing her fate, they accepted and claimed her for themselves. Born in darkness, forced to live in darkness, and now about to die in darkness, her rightful place was with them.
Her eyes watered and red and white spots flashed before her eyes. Her lungs and head were in a tumult burning hot, beginning to give up on her. She could feel them about to surrender, ready to present her to the calling darkness.
Death
She had thought about the idea mostly in her time of isolation during these past days. The idea seemed probable if the STN didn't rescue her, or at least that was what she kept telling herself. The STN…they would be her saviors and yet deep in her heart and mind the STN didn't involve four people but one. He was coming to get her she just knew it, she had to hold on.
He shot you…he's coming to kill you…you are a witch who deserves to die…
Who whispered? Was it her conscious even in its delirium or the devils and ghosts? They waited and watched.
Robin's eyes rolled and the world went black.
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Sunlight broke about and the world shined. It was another day, normal, uneventful. Yet it was the arrival, the beginning.
'Am I dead?'
A green eyed girl came into view walking down the street; her long dress caressing the walk way beneath, anyone looking might've thought she was gliding smoothly. Her face was fixed in a calm yet utterly blank look as she pushed open the door to a restaurant. Cool air and soft piano music reached her forcing the tension and heat she had been feeling slip away slightly, the corners of her mouth turned up minutely, she just might like this place.
'I see you…do you see me? The past…so clear…'
The girl allowed the door to close behind her before continuing on. This was new, the whole experience, she was afraid but too proud to show it. People had trusted her to come all alone to this place, but it wasn't like she was here for them. No, she was here for herself. If she needed to survive she needed to be here experiencing and being afraid. But what if she couldn't succeed? What if she failed to be fit—survival of the fittest…she would perish. Her façade threatened to crack as she went on rounding the corner of a long darkened hallway. A shadow approached, her breath caught as a man came to view. His eyes bore into a space beyond her. He walked by with his head held high and yet she could see the strain on him. He seemed ordinary but she had spotted a look in his eyes quite familiar.
It seemed like he was trying to hold the entire world—no, universe on his shoulders, all alone, dependent of no one… just like her.
'From that day on…I saw no one else but you...
The man walked on not bothering to acknowledge the pale girl with a similar hold on her shoulders.
Or at least that was what she thought.
Once the door had opened and closed the girl turned. In all her life she had never seen anyone quite like him…Japan was an odd place.
'I saw myself in you…I was afraid that if you failed to hold on to that weight, so would I…
Like a rapid light switch being turned on or off, the scene swiftly changed and the girl stood in a grim office, keeping herself from inhaling cigar smoke in the air. The windows had blinds that were partly open letting in some light but not enough to keep the place from looking somber.
A man seated in a masterful chair across from the green eyed girl, openly stared, studying her.
"Is father Juliano still well?"
"The girl blinked determined to not breathe in the intoxicating smell, "I didn't know you knew about him!"
"I actually met him back in Solomon quite some time ago, it has been over a decade now," the man's voice rang bouncing of the walls into her ears. It was a tough and strong voice, full of command and shortness. The small talk they were having created a small smile in his lips but she noticed it didn't seem to reach his eyes.
"He's doing well, although his powers have diminished."
"I see.
"As you have noticed our ways of doing things around here are different from Solomon."
"You don't kill the witches," she stated softly trying to keep the shrewdness out of her voice.
The conversation continued in a haze that fluttered like swirling fog, useless…why was she seeing this?
"…Now while you are here I want you to abide by our rules, is that clear? For now I want you to stick with this man and get used to the system here…"
"Yes, sir…"
The green eyed girl, dismissed, walked away looking at the man beside the entrance. He was tall and beautiful, made out of porcelain. His silver eyes refused to meet hers but she could still see a gloom behind them, something dark and impenetrable.
'It hurt. You would never look at me, just right through me.'
She walked down a hallway trying to head back to the main office without getting lost. The walls in this side of the building were made out of rough, crude stones that didn't do much for the décor. It was like walking down a medieval dungeon and once she would see the light, the unexpected would come.
Abruptly the stone was replaced with smooth taupe walls and unadorned doors without name as she walked on. The doors came, high, and shut on and on but she paid no notice, her mind still back in the morbid office and its queer occupants.
'For now I want you to stick with this man…'
Her heart pounded with apprehension, what did that mean? She would be with him from now on, getting to know this man with the stone eyes.
'Would you hate me? Would you judge me? I was so afraid you would reject me'
An open door with a light on caught her eye as she passed by. Her curiosity, getting the best of her, made her turn and push the door slowly. It was a plain record room illuminated by a weak hanging bulb with dozens of file cabinets and shelves on the sides, stacked with different size books. Crates of documents laid about the floor making it impossible to walk freely about. She took a delicate step in and instantly regretted it. A folder's edge caught on her skirt, flipping and sending dust everywhere. As fast as she dared without disturbing other files, the girl patted the dirt off her skirt and placed the file in its place.
To the side a vast book stood on its own by a crate. A thick layer of dust collected over the years enclosed the cover. She frowned; it looked so lonely there, ignored and soiled. Scooting down and opening showed her it was nothing but a normal unabridged dictionary with minute letters. She flipped through it, drawing in the musky smell emitting from the yellow pages. Her legs were cramping from crouching on the floor too long but a thought crossed her mind before standing up.
The thin pages flew by as she turned hastily to the 'P'.
Part-ner 1. One associated with another in an activity or a sphere of common
interest.
2. A member of a business partner-ship.
3. Spouse
The girl read it entranced, it made no sense because nothing soothed her worries. So they had something in common: killing witches. How would that make him accept her? By seeing her evil craft?
'He's just like me,' she suddenly thought remembering the universe in his shoulders and eyes. Hushed steps came down the corridor but the squatted girl took no notice.
'Someone is coming, watch out! Can you hear me? Can you hear my voice?'
The door was closed midway but still allowed sight into the cubicle-like room. Two eyes, sharp and grey, looked down at the girl in the floor. It was an inscrutable look that didn't condemn, only observe. They narrowed as the girl shifted documents to get a better space for her great book and softened as her exhausted thighs gave up on her and dropped her on her behind.
"Ouch…"
The man behind the door shook his head trying to keep his frown in place even though it had become somewhat difficult.
'Were you there all along? Watching as I watched you? Amon…
A swift movement indicated his departure but the girl kept flipping the pages awed by the numerous words in existence, her odd handle bar hair style bobbing up and down.
'I see you but you don't see me.
'Am I dead?'
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"I'm telling you Amon, harassing the computer won't get you anything," Michael yelped as Amon hurled a mouse across the room. It crash landed by the Chief's empty desk bouncing with it's cord twirling in the air then just laying there like a useless rock.
"It didn't work," Amon replied sitting on his rolling chair breathing hard.
"What, your rude manhandling or the buttons?"
Without bothering to dignify that with a response Amon stood and begun to pace, it was three in the morning yet he felt wide awake. He had returned to the office to check more clues or anything that might help but so far there was absolutely nothing. Time went by and his patience along with it. Robin's life could be ending at the moment for all he knew.
"Calm down Amon, this is not the time for posturing," Michael watched rapt as the tall hunter paced the room like a caged panther.
"Posturing? I'm not posturing."
"Okay then go home, go to sleep Amon," Michael swerved his chair until he was but a yard away from the wild hunter, "I live here, you don't."
Amon shot a contemptuous look at the boy but did as told. He got his trench coat from his chair along with his gun holster. Yes, maybe leaving was the best thing to do. A computer screen wouldn't magically pop out Robin out of its screen.
"You are not going to sleep," Michael sighed, stretching over his computer chair and yawning.
It wasn't a rhetorical question but Amon answered it over his shoulder as he walked away, "No, I'm not sleepy."
He passed by the elevator shaft determinately walking deep into a dimly lit corridor. He kept on going until the walls had lost their smoothness to be replaced with rough stone. His shoes echoed in the hall as the light seemed to diminish with every step he took. A silver door waited far out and when he reached it Amon could see the black bulk his reflection created in the blurry material. Carelessly he tossed his coat and holster to the floor but not before extracting a key and his Orbo gun.
The key was weightless in his hand, like shaped aluminum glistening with the neon light overhead. He knew this key was what truly set him apart from the other hunters. Zaizen had given it to him in secret shortly after Kate, his previous partner's, demise. At first he had been honored and steadfast on catching every single witch afterwards, fired up by the simple knowledge that he possessed 'the key'. But then she had arrived and second thoughts had resurrected, some of which he was unaware of but still resided in his subconscious.
He typed a code on a pad next to the doorway and inserted the key. There was a definite click followed by a beep and his bones chilled. A thin freezing vapor hissed out as the door was opened. Ominous green light surfaced and hit his eyes like the sun would after a long time in the darkness. Sometimes, rare times, guilt pricked at him. Though he was unsure as to why, it was his job after all and yet…
'But sir…I won't be using Orbo, it's disgusting…'
He had mistrusted her from the beginning. How could she find Orbo disgusting? She would kill a person with the blink of an eye with her hideous craft. In his eyes she was a child witch in a leash, something that had to be controlled.
When did that change? He couldn't exactly pinpoint it.
Reaching for his gun, he reloaded and packed enough ammo to kill a small third world country—a small third world country of witches. The glowing bullets were bright green, like her eyes.
Amon scowled at himself, how could he even compare such things?
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An extended hallway, pitch dark with the exception of a single door with a lit light. It was soundless until the lit room was approached. From its insides soft thuds and groans could be heard. Robin, who was in the room, was completely unaware of them. Her head was lopsided to her shoulder, her faintly blue face covered by a curtain of hair. She was breathing ruggedly, her burning lungs seizing as much oxygen as they could. Her ears were popping so she was unaware of the voices screaming around her.
"Louis! Please!"
Louis's face contorted in rage and he raised his fist once more.
"Stop it, you are not thinking clearly," Masuo begged rushing over to Louis's side dropping his cane in the floor to get hold of the raised arm, "You need her, Louis stop it."
"You're an idiot!" Louis shrieked, his voice raising several octaves beyond what was normal. Masuo cringed at the sound but didn't let go. "If I hadn't gotten here in time you would've ruined everything!"
"She's still breathing," Jung retorted defiantly from the ground. Even with a deep gash in her lower lip from were blood flowed freely and a purple nose that looked broken Jung still managed an insolent sneer. Her thick ink black hair contrasted with the red and white of her face, "Stop bitching about it! She's right there!"
"Stop Louis!"
Jung screamed and withered in the ground as a kick dug into her bullet injury. One of her flaying legs struck Robin's who simply jumped feebly in her chair and didn't lift her head.
"There, I'm done," pushing Masuo to the side Louis pulled at his suit and straitened his tie with an air of gentle calmness even if his eyes still bulged from suppressed fury, "Jung, you little rascal. Why don't you go crawl to some corner? I'm hating the sight of you right now."
Masuo gaped as the infuriated man kneeled down by Robin and moved her hair out of her face with a gentleness the old man would've never thought possible.
"My poor little girl," Louis sighed lifting Robin's head with a finger on her chin, "Look at you, Jung hurt you didn't she? Should I kill mean Jung, will that make my little girl feel better?"
Robin's head bobbed in his extended hand, still unconscious.
"Stop it Louis," Masuo repeated his nostrils flaring. For some reason Masuo didn't dare fathom, Louis's coddling scared and disgusted him more than his psychotic episodes. It was at times like these that Masuo yearned for his leg to be better just so that he could run away from this crazy man, run and never turn back.
"I really don't see why you are still standing there like a crippled old man—oops, I mean like an indolent imbecile," Louis replied letting Robin's head fall and standing up, "I thought I had told you to head over."
Masuo turned his gaze at Robin. She looked so fragile and small, was it all worth killing her? Just so that he could live to his ancestor's expectations? To his eyes she was but an innocent girl cursed as him, doomed to kill or be killed. Or at least that was what he had been told over and over by his father. They had lived in slums, him and his father, the worst places a kid could ever grow up in. He had feared life from the age of four, taught to fear every waking, living moment of it.
"I'm going," he mumbled taking his eyes off Robin and retrieving his cane from the floor. Louis held the door wide open for him and rolled his eyes as Masuo's limping slowed his pace. Once outside the doorframe, the door with its bright lit room slammed shut behind him. He dealt slowly through the dead silent hallway walking farther and farther from the poor girls, locked with the monster that had been the insight for all of his new nightmares.
He could walk away and never return. Louis wouldn't follow…maybe.
Fresh night air stroked his bald head once emerging into the outside. Freedom was his for the taking if it wasn't for a little glitch.
A harness, wrapped around his soul kept him where he was, refusing to let go. And now instead of attempting to gain a life he had tightened the harness's hold on him by entrapping the girl. If her blood was to stain hands tonight, it would be his. His past edged him to do what he was doing now maybe because that was all he knew, all he believed in, without his past he was nothing.
In his veins ran the blood of the original Seekers many years past. If there was such pure, initial blood rich with the power of the craft it would be his. His family had lived just like him and his father. Barely surviving in the shadow of the world, casting themselves away from mankind. It had been a sad life, never enjoying or truly 'living' just learning to hate and retreat from human nearness.
The day came when his father's departure left him in every aspect alone in the world. Living in the streets as a hobo or worse than it, he would stare at the normal humans. Untainted by the craft in their blood or mind, they were happy, he wanted to be happy too just like them. When the affluent-looking man came to him in the park with a refined Asian lady strapped in his arm Masuo saw a way out, to be happy just like them, the normal people. It wasn't long before they filled his head with promises of a better future for him and people just like him. All he had to do was use his craft and past to their (the man and woman's) advantage.
A plan was devised for destroying an organization known as the STN-J. It was complicated, for it to work they needed someone from the inside to weaken the organization's state. They had laughed back then, telling him how easy it would be with his craft made for deceiving. It would be fast, it would be painless.
He was lied to.
Not only was the captive a child, she was treated no more than a dog. His part in it all was as expected but by now he had realized they were using him as a 'Seeker' figure head, nothing else. There would be no better future for him or his kin. If he was right and Louis got his way more people would be treated just like those two girls, even worse.
This was not what he wanted, not a crying girl tied and tortured. Or people hurt and almost killed just so that Louis became entertained.
Masuo drove less than five blocks from their hiding location before the building Raven's Flat came to view. He parked by the exit where cars would come out of. He had been stalking the place as much as Jung had stalked the hunter Amon, its exits, entrances and numbers of windows were like a second nature to him.
He hadn't even taken the keys off the ignition before a figure was seen. It was tall and large as it rushed across the street. Masuo didn't know if to be glad or apprehensive that he had found the target already: the hunter.
He sat back on the street and watched. If he did this, it would be 'it', the last step. His ancestors would applaud and accept him with arms wide open in hell. If he refrained Louis would send him to hell anyway.
Masuo looked at the man crossing the street with his trench coat flapping behind him. The man, Amon, would go for her that he knew. They had tested the hunter's loyalty and he had surpassed according to Louis. All Masuo had to do now was close his eyes, and then everything would be out of his hands.
His craft flowed and hummed through his body as it extended from him reaching out for the man's mind.
If his father saw him now he would be so proud…if Masuo thought about it one more time he would scream.
This had never been what he wanted.
A life
Happiness…
Was it too much to ask for?
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Amon crossed the street without bothering to look for incoming cars. Harry's was closed but it didn't stop him from heading over. It was a habit he had, whenever things got tough Harry's was the place to go even if only to a locked door. It helped him to sort things through or unwind.
"Amon"
His eyebrows knotted together as he turned his head, "Robin."
Her hair was impeccable as her dress and demeanor. It was a flashback into every single morning he would see her in the office waiting for him. She smiled brightly, a sight he had never seen, suspected no one ever had.
It made him miserable, why should he see her smile like that at such a time?
The handle bar haired girl lifted her hand beckoning for his. Her smile was warm, contagious. Amon's eyes lingered on her extended hand wondering if it was as soft as it promised to be.
He reached for it but she walked away before he had the opportunity to find out. She stopped a distance far of as if to show he needed to follow, turned and kept going.
Amon drew back his hand, the time had come. The final test which involved his mind being tampered with yet again...he could do this. He had to do it.
He had to follow and he had to be patient. Robin was somewhere waiting just for him and once he got there he would take her hand and never let go.
I promised I would make it up didn't I? This chapter is the longest I have written in the history of—my written chapters. Whatever. I know this chapter was odd. For all who wonder Robin went through the whole 'life-flashing-before-eyes' experience while being treated like a toothpaste tube. It really wasn't relative to the story line but I thought it would be nice to add more to the 'Arrival' of WHR. Masuo was a nice guy after all so I had to add his stuff as well. Okay then the end is near and I beg for patience because it'll be hard to write and if I do it just right, it'll be hard for you guys to read...in a good way.