The first vampire lord materialized from the shadows surrounding the mansion's courtyard, dressed in a fashion similar to how his partner had been, only with an olive green peacoat-instead of a black one-buttoned to his chin and combat boots instead of shoes.
The famed Bloody Rose gun gleamed in a holster at his hip, along with a silver semi auto laced with similar markings, which probably meant it had similar capabilities-namely killing other vampires.
That was his cue.
"You must be Zero Kiryu."
The silver-haired lamia turned around just in time to see the shadows stir once again, coalescing into a lanky, blue-haired form that he recognized-but only just-as the former assassin he knew only as the Panther.
He wanted to know more-so, even though he knew it would have no effect, Zero drew the Bloody Rose gun from its holster and directed the barrel at his visitor.
"State your name," he started by demanding in his cultured accent, lilac eyes glowing faintly in the darknes.
"You know my name, Knight," the raven-hair stated smoothly, loping forward without paying any mind the weapon currently being aimed at him.
"Your real name," Zero insisted, practically growling, undoing the safety catch of his gun.
"Che," the panther scoffed softly, sounding almost amused as he submitted. "Kanda."
"This is the man I've been charged with guarding, Zero-you know that," a familiar, faintly aristocratic-sounding voice added matter-of-factly as the speaker appeared at Zero's side.
Zero lowered his gun abruptly as his attention switched to the new arrival, leaning in to brush his lips over the other vampire lord's.
When he saw their lips meet, Kanda raised his eyebrows, appearing faintly bemused by the open display of affection.
"So, the rumours are true, then," he commented, more to himself than to the two lamia-but they heard, anyway.
"And what rumours would those be, Kanda?" Kaname queried coolly once he and Zero had broken apart, his gaze shifting to the Panther as Zero laced their fingers together.
The Japanese man tilted his head vaguely in their direction.
"That the two of you are together, in all senses of the phrases."
"Is that any more unlikely than the pairing of someone like you and someone like Allen Walker?" Zero retorted smoothly, arching a single silver eyebrow.
Kanda's nostrils flared at the mention of Allen, and, in an instant, Mugen's glowing blade was pointed at the Knight's throat.
"What the hell do you think you know about me and Allen?" he snarled harshly, eyes spitting electric sparks and knuckles whitening on his sword's hilt.
Zero didn't move, didn't seem the slightest bit bothered by having a sword pointed at him, and Kaname was the one who stepped forward, calmly pushing the blade down before addressing Kanda.
"Why did you come here, Kanda?" he asked softly, still holding Zero's hand as he moved half in front of him. "Still looking for answers about the Reaper?"
Kanda stared at him for a few seconds before exhaling sharply, forcing himself to lower Mugen-but only partially-and meeting Kaname's maroon gaze.
"I got some-but they weren't what I expected. And some of them don't really track with others, or the things that he does," Kanda stated, allowing his frustration to seep into his voice. "The one thing I believe is he told me that he has a long history with the Vampire Lords, so I thought you might be willing to tell me what you know about him."
"What we know is not really your concern," Kaname said sharply before Zero could even open his mouth. "I can see that whatever you've found out has already made you form an opinion of him, and whatever we say is just going to be coloured by that opinion."
"Kaname," Zero stopped him there, releasing his hand to place his on Kaname's arm and come back to his side, eyes on Kanda's slowly lifting sword. "I highly doubt the Reaper will be too happy if he finds out you've been fighting with the man you're supposed to be protecting-and there is no harm in telling him what we know if it helps him stay out of trouble."
His gaze switched back to the raven-hair, expression unreadable.
"What do you know about our history with Uchiha?"
Kanda stared at him again for nearly a full minute before lifting his shoulders in a shrug.
"Nothing; all Uchiha told when I confronted him about it is that the 'promise and ties' between you 'go back nearly a decade'," the panther replied honestly, obviously irritated by that vague bit of information.
Kaname and Zero shared a look of seemingly silent communication before Zero inclined his head.
"That is the basis of our history," he said carefully, taking a deep breath, his hand to returning to Kaname's as he elaborated. "Eight years ago, when Kaname and I were students at a place called Cross Academy, there was some trouble with the Hunters' Association and the then governing vampire body, known as the Senate."
"The Reaper got involved when he found out who I really was, and why those two organizations wanted both Kaname and I dead. He was still an Eidolon then, but he helped us without his master knowing; he acted like a merciless machine, but he saved out lives and, in exchange, we swore a Blood Oath to help him whenever and however he needed in the future. We've traded favours back and forth since then, and he's never given us a reason to reconsider that arrangement."
As he finished, the consternation on Kanda's pale features grew even more. That was a lot less sinister than what Allen had told him-but was the Knight just simplifying things, or was their relationship with the Reaper really that pure?
Who do you believe
None of this was really helping him understand Uchiha better-although, he supposed, it did give him a bit more insight into the Vampire Lords, and why the second was now apparently his personal bodyguard.
But there were still parts of the picture that he was missing; unfortunately, he didn't think he was going to find any more of them here.
He let out another heavy breath, finally re-sheathing his sword and relaxing a little.
"Well, that wasn't really what I expected to hear, but at least you told me something," he inclined his head to Zero in gratitude, then turned to Kaname. "I assume I'll be seeing you around, Kuran."
With that final word, he turned on the spot and vanished.
The Panther returned to the compound to the sound of screams carrying up from one of the lower levels, and he was instantly on his guard.
With his preternatural hearing, he was able to track the source of the sound to a dungeon-like room on the bottom floor, where he found Ray Kon chained to the wall and very obviously being tortured by Hiwatari.
Kanda didn't know whether to be disgusted or enticed by the sight of the dried blood all over the Chinese lamia's bared torso. Kai didn't appear to be suffering the same indecision, however; his inhumanly pale features were twisted into an unfamiliar expression of pure glee as he continued to cut into his prisoner's flesh.
"Where is he, kotenok?" Kai asked lowly, tapping the tip of the jagged knife in his hand against Ray's chest, sounding as if he didn't really care whether or not he actually got an answer.
Or like he was hoping he wouldn't
Ray involuntarily-Kanda assumed-flinched every time the reddened steel touched his skin, his bottom lip catching between his pointed teeth Whatever Kai was asking was definitely something he didn't want to give up.
Far from frustrating Kai, though, his resistance seemed to actually amuse the younger vampire, and he leaned in closer, bringing the knife lower down Ray's torso.
"You know I don't need much incentive to hurt you worse," he intoned silkily, moving the tip of the knife over Ray's abdomen, tracing floating ribs, his pale lips ticking into a taunting smile as they brushed against a slightly pointed ear. "But then, maybe that's exactly what you want me to do."
Kanda expected Ray to protest, but when he didn't-instead actually seeming to arch into it when the blade pressed into the center of his rib cage-the panther's dark eyebrows shot up. Evidently, he had missed a chapter here.
Inescapably intrigued, Kanda continued to watch as Kai inched closer to his prisoner, eyes glowing crimson as a similar colour dripped down the elder vampire's tanned stomach.
"Are you going to tell me what I want to know, or would you rather go through another session like the last one?" he heard the incendus whisper, his Russian accent hushed and honeyed, as if he were speaking to a lover-not the creature who had killed him.
This is what a true vampire acts like; he revels in blood and takes pleasure in pain
Kanda saw Ray fight-but fail-to suppress a shiver at Kai's suggestion, and he decided that, whatever it was Kai wanted the tiger to tell him, there had to be a better way of getting it out; he wasn't loath to admit that he also really wanted to know the answer now.
He pulled the door to the dungeon open wider and strode inside, pushing back his hood and making a soft sound to get Kai's attention.
"Mind if I take a turn? Something tells me whatever you've been doing is more vengeance than interrogation," he said in a characteristically neutral tone, his eyes narrowing as the scent of iron filled his nostrils.
Honestly, he expected Kai to deny his request when the vampire merely stared at him for a pregnant instant, so, when he then actually stepped aside, Kanda couldn't help feeling a flicker of surprise.
"Since you're the one who brought him to me, I guess I do owe you, so be my guest," the incendus acquiesced carelessly, twirling the jagged knife between his fingers. "And, in case you were wondering, I was asking him where to find one of the Akatsuki, a man by the name of Deidara Finch."
Kanda inclined his head in understanding.
"I know him," he admitted truthfully. "He lives in the same base that Kon does-or at least, he did."
"Well, according to Uchiha, he wasn't there the night we raided it," Kai replied matter-of-factly, tucking his free hand into the pocket of his coat.
Kanda didn't ask why Kai wanted to know where Finch was; he just nodded a second time before turning his attention to the chained-up lamia.
You can find out what he knows without even lifting a finger see past the lies without any of the effort
Kanda didn't know what happened next, but, as soon as his eyes met Ray's amber slits, the entire world shifted around shifted him. He felt something stir inside him, and he saw not the vampire's face-but what he perceived to be his memories.
Strip it all away
He clenched his jaw, trying not show his confusion or disquiet; he'd been planning to inflict a different kind of torture on the tiger-but something told him he didn't need to do perform any, that all he had to do was ask.
So, he did.
"Where is Deidara Finch?"
Like a puppet whose strings were being pulled, Ray's head lifted, and he answered, sounding as if he were in a trance of some sort. "In the 33rd complex on Wyman Boulevard; it's a safehouse our section of the Eidolons uses to organize missions."
Somehow, Kanda knew that he was telling the truth; somehow-he didn't know how-he was able to see it in Ray's eyes-and in his mind.
He turned back to Kai, who was observing them with an impassive expression.
"Looks like you did my job for me," the dual-haired vampire commented, finally sliding his knife back into the sleeve of his dark coat, his tone as blank as his face.
"Looks like I did," Kanda agreed in an equally bland voice-but his was forced, meant to hide the fact that his head was still spinning with what he had glimpsed inside the lamia's head memories of blood betrayal all that lost humanity
Kai stared at him again, this time for a little over a minute, eyes simmering with something unidentifiable, before he gave a nod of his own.
"I'll go give Uchiha the good news," he declared, lips twitching as his gaze flicked onto Ray's slumped form before he turned on his heel and exited the room.
Kanda barely even registered the fact that he, apparently, had just done Uchiha a favour; he was too focused on the fact that he had seemingly just read someone's mind-something he had never done before.
Could this be the power that Orochimaru had sought, the power that had made the Eidolons go after his family to get to him?
It was an unexpected ability, sure, but it wasn't that extraordinary; surely, he wasn't the only one in this crazy new world who possessed it. He'd heard of lamia who could, and he suspected the elder Uchiha had the ability as well(because if he didn't, then he was really inhumanly perceptive). So, why would Orochimaru be that desperate to get his hands on it? What did it mean to him?
That said, to Kanda, it was an opportunity; with all of the deceptions he'd been fed in his life, all the things that were being concealed from him, he'd needed a way to discern what was truth, and what was just smoke and mirrors. Maybe this was it.
If this power did do what he thought, if it did allow him to read someone's thoughts, to know when they were lying to him, perhaps he could turn it on the Reaper-although if the elder did also posses the same ability, it might not work. Perhaps Kanda could use it on the Tekla or-didn't Itachi also have a brother, one who was still alive? Maybe he could track him down and use it on him.
He needed to be able to fit all these pieces of the Reaper's personality together;he needed to know who the real man behind the mask was before this could go any further.
The Sharingan gleamed through the eyeholes of his white mask, a sharp contrast to his black cloak; it allowed him to see through the walls to sense the energy-the chakra-of the man he was searching for.
He found it-him-exactly where his source had said he would be: in the 33rd complex at the center of the street across from where he was watching.
Itachi leapt off the roof at that, landing nimbly on the complex's; then, concentrating his power around his feet, he stepped off the edge and began to climb down the side of the building.
His boots made no sound on the steel skin as he descended, shadows swirling around him, keeping him from being seen. He'd done this sort of thing many times before-he knew he had to be unnoticed, and he excelled at that.
He came to a stop above a boarded window, about a quarter of the way down, and saw the spellwork engraved around it. His target was alone in one of the rooms of the safehouse; but the wards couldn't have been his doing, so evidently, he wasn't the only one currently staying there.
That didn't concern Itachi unduly; he knew he could handle more or less any one of the snake's pawns. But he preferred to avoid taking out anyone besides the one had come here for-it wouldn't be very sporting, after all.
He paused, focusing his Sharingan on the wards, picking them apart, piece by piece. They weren't terribly complicated; much like the ones at the Miyori street base, they were only meant to prevent anyone from teleporting in or out. Whoever had put them there definitely hadn't counted on Itachi infiltrating the place; he had so many more options of getting inside.
Letting out a soft, silent breath, he switched his position; hanging in front of the window by only the tips of his toes, he raised a gloved hand, held it centimeters away from the boards, and cast out his power.
The fabric of his glove turned liquid, seeping from his fingers onto the iron slat, covering the sigils etched into it and forming a black hole on top of them-a gateway that rendered them null and void.
Itachi stepped forward, inverting his body again and slipping through the gateway in a single fluid motion.
His target was there, clad in a similar cloak to Itachi's and with his hair in that familiar thick ponytail at the base of his skull. He stood at the far end of the room, standing before a small table with a ball of clay in his hands, sculpting it into what Itachi recognized as one of the shapes of his weapons of choice.
He could easily take the other man out from here-just a single slash to his throat, or a snap of his neck, quick and clean-but he didn't want to do it that way. This wasn't an assassination-this was meant to be another message.
He closed his eyes, and the target made the mistake of turning around just as the three commas inside them sharpened into two serrated, spinning blades; the instant he met those oscillating blades, it was too late.
The world twisted.
"Deidara Finch."
When he regained consciousness, he was staring up at sky of blood.
He was lying on a metal slab, his wrists and ankles bound so his limbs were pulled tight against his lean form, preventing him from moving. There was no moon above him; only red.
He inhaled sharply, feeling fear rise in his throat; he knew what was happening. He recognized all of this-but that didn't make it any less terrifying.
Especially when he heard a familiar deep, heartless voice reverberate within his ears.
"Your soul is mine, Finch-for what you've done, I'd say it's a small price to pay."
Deidara was fully prepared to make a sharp retort-but he never got the chance.
Clones of the familiar form of the Reaper materialized in front of him, and each one plunged a sword into a different part of his body; throat, gut, eyes, hands, legs, groin, et cetera. His fingernails were torn out; needles dug into his skin, and his insides were bathed in acid.
He screamed, already certain he couldn't take anymore-but the worst was yet to come.
He saw the clones morph into members of his family, ones that he'd killed. He saw himself blow them apart with his exploding clay, saw their insides painting the walls of his childhood home. Heard their screams rise above his own.
He saw a man he had tortured himself, a man with a missing eye, and he pulled out Deidara's as well, cutting away the stalks with a blunt and rusted knife. He saw a teenage boy strapped to a metal table with tubes in his arms and all sorts of fluids being pumped into him and knew that boy was himself.
He knew it was an illusion-Itachi's Tsukuyomi, the Nightmare realm-but he couldn't stop himself from bawling at how real it all seemed. He felt the pain of the swords, of his eyes being carved from his skull, of the memory of those experiments. He cried out in agony, losing all sense of composure and begging for the end.
Itachi didn't stop, though; instead, the torture came at him with renewed vigour-slower, fiercer-making his throat grow raw from yelling.
Blood pooled at his feet and stained his robes as his bones were snapped like twigs. His hair was brutally ripped from his scalp, while his chest cavity was sliced open, spilling his guts on the ground.
Back in the real world, Itachi stepped back, watching the blonde curl in on himself, motionless and strained, blood trickling out of his nose.
Deidara had taken a surprisingly short amount of time to break-and the illusion was still set to last another seventy-two hours. When it was done with him, he wouldn't be of much use to anyone anymore.
Another pawn fallen
I think this round belongs to me