Author's Note: Before anyone asks, I swear, I have a perfectly legitimate reason for making Allen a girl here.
Having said that, I just want to say that if anyone would like to discuss D Gray, feel free to hit me up anytime. I am always in the mood for D Gray XD
Chapter 1: Liminality
He turned a corner and promptly came upon a hallway choked with bodies, too still and almost certainly all dead.
Well. He had barely reached the scene, and mission integrity had already been compromised.
Fucking brat, he thought, and could not suppress the scowl that overtook his countenance.
Komui had told him that it was a routine investigation, to be undertaken and completed while undercover. A covert one-man mission. In and out. No one was supposed to get hurt, and certainly nobody was supposed to die.
Even the brat could not screw up something as simple as that.
But apparently Komui was full of shit, and Kanda was right not to listen to him.
Unfortunately, it also meant that things had to be taken up a few notches, and that this mission promised to be a complete pain in the ass. One of the few times he got to feel validated about rubbing it in Komui's face, and of course it had to be for a reason like this.
His steps when he strode forward were kept deliberately measured, even, purposeful. He averted his gaze from the bodies, so carelessly discarded, left to decorate the hallway like burlap sacks stuffed to bursting, leaking offal.
All these people, rounded up for disposal like lambs to the slaughter. As if she had not even bothered to look them in the eyes before gunning them down.
It was unsettling.
Beneath his coat, his fingers tightened marginally on the hilt of a blade, tucked into its sheath on his belt.
Something at the corner of his eye snagged his attention. He turned briefly towards it, and noticed the off-centre hole still leaking blood in the base of the dead man's throat. In his mind's eye, he could almost see what had happened: Bastard tried to creep up from behind, and swallowed lead for his efforts.
Too sudden, flashy. Careless. They might as well have scrawled their names across the walls with blood and been done with it.
His instincts roared at him. His fist tightened in the folds of his coat.
Words would be had when he found her.
The nearer he drew to the end of the corridor, the more mistakes he noticed. Broken shards of glass lining the corridor, empty window frames from which the bullets must have ricocheted. Spent shells scattered in clusters that meant she had needed more than one shot to take an opponent down. And, almost at the end, an empty magazine, and the gun it had been removed from. He picked it up, scowled, and pocketed it.
Brat was getting far too sloppy. And sloppy assassins were dead assassins.
His footsteps quickened to an almost run, thudding down the rest of the corridor. There could only be one reason for her apparent loss of control.
Only ever one reason, even if it was not one any of them understood.
In that moment, Kanda knew that Komui must have fucked up. Strange it was, because Komui had never been known to fuck up when it came to reconnaissance, but Kanda figured that everyone had to start somewhere.
The corridor split into two. A trail of blood, bright red drops stark against the grime, marked his quarry's path down the left wing. He turned on his heel, so fast that he almost gave himself whiplash, and made haste to follow.
It came when he least expected it: Tell-tale ringing sounds that spoke of bullets missing their mark, washing over him with the force of a hurricane, rending the suffocating silence asunder.
His heart pounded. Blood roared in his ears. His eyes landed on a closed door, nondescript, located at the end of the corridor.
His strides lengthened into a headlong run.
The scraping sound the door made grated on his nerves, but he knew that noise did not matter anymore, as long as he had speed. They never had the element of surprise to begin with. The game was up before it started, because the fucking brat decided to throw herself off the deep end by shooting everyone's eyes in.
Something glinted at the corner of his eyes, almost out of sight, and he dropped into a roll on instinct. Sizzling hot metal grazed his ear, and warmth trickled down the side of his face. He did not even flinch.
In revenge, he withdrew the blade he had been palming under the folds of his coat, the rough hilt almost comforting under his fingers, the familiar weight perfectly balanced in his grip, and threw it at his opponent. He heard it the moment his blade hit the mark, the decisive thuck sound as human flesh gave way beneath the force of his throw. Cold metal slid in with barely any resistance, and the nameless person who had dared to turn the barrel of his gun on him dropped backwards, knife buried to the hilt in his chest.
Deranged laughter, followed by a soft clapping sound, forced his attention away from the corpse on the ground. His gaze alighted upon a diminutive girl dressed in a diaphanous shift that reached down to her knees. Untamed bangs framed an elfin face with wide-set eyes, gleaming with maniacal delight.
There was only one person who matched the description. And after their previous altercations, all he could summon was numb resignation.
Road Camelot. Fallen angel, demon child, whose touch promised to blight the land. Anyone standing in her way would burn.
He drew further into the room, keenly aware of the fact that he might have just signed his own death warrant. Kneeled down, wrapped one hand around the handle of his blade, gave it a vicious tug. The knife came away into his hand with a soft sucking sound. Blood sluiced over his boots. He kept his gaze fixed firmly on the monster in the far end of the room.
"Kanda, is it?" Her grin was raw, a gaping slash that sliced her face into halves. "Kanda Yuu. Partner to Allen Walker."
At the mention of her name, Kanda's eyes snapped to the only other girl in the crowd. Flyaway hair the colour of bleached bone, pale gray eyes that burnt with hellfire, teeth bared into a snarl. Her aura was drenched in bloodlust, her muscles tense with anticipation.
"I expected no less of you. You were her mentor once," Road ploughed on blithely, blatantly ignoring the white-haired girl beside her. "And you didn't disappoint! Your reputation precedes you, but even so, I had to see for myself what sort of person Allen's mentor was like."
His eyes narrowed on Allen's form, gaze flinty. She was on her knees, hands tied behind her back with thick hemp rope. Flanking her were two unknowns, one on each side, each holding a gun trained on either side on her head.
Down for the count, then.
"Hey, Kanda, you play with Allen. Won't you play with me too?"
A soft chiming sound drifted down from somewhere above his head. Kanda's gaze flickered upwards, drawn by instinct, only to be greeted by the face of an ancient clock. Dusty glass face, hour hand almost to five and minute hand to twelve, second hand just about ready to start the next revolution.
"It's a simple game. You have five seconds to make it to this end of the room. If you win, Allen goes with you. If I win, she stays with me."
She isn't bloody collateral for your farce of a game, were the words that he really wanted to say, but that was her hand on the trigger, her guns pressed to Allen's head, and he had to force himself to swallow his anger. "And if I should choose to forfeit?" His voice was even, hinting at a control that he did not feel.
"Then it would be a walkover," Road hummed, as if she was trying to pacify a fractious child. "I like you, Kanda, but fair is fair."
It was nothing he had not expected. He gripped his knife tighter, drew it closer to his body.
"Five," Road sang, as the bell began to toll.
Allen's snarl deepened.
Kanda darted forward before he realised what he was doing. His weapon of choice offered him immense flexibility and manoeuvrability, but only if he could get in close enough.
Shouts. Scuffling sounds, booted feet racing towards him, guns raised to chest level.
Amateurs.
"Four."
Blade to the throat, cutting to the quick, drawing first blood. The light left his opponent's eyes as his face slackened. He yanked the knife back out. Ducked beneath the falling body, propping it up with a shoulder so that he could use it as a shield against the other goons while he closed the gap between them.
Bullets slammed into flesh, and blood that was not his dripped onto his forehead, matting his fringe. He barely glanced at the gun on the floor. With one hand, he found the loop of the man's belt, and traced its length until his fingers happened upon uneven, polished metal.
He removed the gun, threw it to the floor and gave it a hard kick, sending it spinning off in the other direction. One less weapon that could be retrieved and turned against him.
Maybe it was overkill, disarming a dead man, but he did not believe in taking any chances. Insurance was insurance, and outnumbered as he was, every little bit counted.
"Three."
As soon as he was close enough, he threw the body off. Startled yells followed, as the unexpected weight took one down to the dirty concrete floor, dead weight pinning him in place. With his blade he aimed for the heart, and was rewarded with stillness.
Quick as a flash, he reached back under his coat. His fingers drew level with his belt, and the next blade in his repertoire slid soundlessly out from its sheath.
"Two."
Something moved at the corner of his eye. He did not have to focus on it to know that it was a gun trained on him. Shit!
He threw himself sideways, knowing that it was too late to avoid the blow completely, and readied himself for the impact. White-hot pain lanced through him as a bullet clipped him in the side, tunnelled under his skin, tore through flesh and muscle before exiting a little ways to the back.
A flesh wound then. It would bleed, but it missed his vital organs, and that was enough for him.
Pain sharpened his focus, strengthened his blows. He forced his body through the motions. Faster, faster. His hand reached back into the folds of his coat, the third blade sliding soundlessly into place between his fingers.
Light glinted off the wickedly sharp blade as he swung, slicing swiftly through the air, coming to a jarring stop when it bit into flesh, tasting blood and digging deep. His opponent was dead before he hit the ground.
"One."
Indignant spluttering came from the fourth man, who had moved to take the place of his fallen friend. Face red with anger, spittle flying, gun shaking in his trembling grip. Anger made him reckless; fear shackled his feet and made him slow. Kanda knew that he had nothing to worry about.
As if on instinct, Kanda ducked beneath the gun, surged forward, and dropped the man with a well-placed knife between his ribs. Perceived a malicious presence bearing down on him from behind, and immediately followed up with a back kick.
From behind him came the crisp, clear sound of bone cracking beneath the force of his boot. He spun on his heel, met his next opponent face to face, and revelled in the terror clouding his opponent's eyes.
"Monster," the man managed to choke out, with all of the loathing he could muster.
It slid off his skin like water off the petals of a flower. Bastard fought dirty, tried to sneak up on him while his back was turned. Kanda had no patience for fools and charlatans. He was rage incarnate, descending upon his opponents with claws and teeth.
"Zero."
A sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach told him that he was out of time.
In one fluid motion, he clocked the fellow across the face with a well-aimed fist, putting enough force behind the blow to send him to the ground, dazed. Hooked his foot around the next man's ankle, tripping him and dropping him onto his companion. Withdrew the next two blades tucked into his belt, one in each hand, and ended them both simultaneously by slitting their throats. Felt his blades catching on cartilage before he pulled them free, their mirror-smooth surfaces tainted with an angry red colour that gleamed sickly under the dim fluorescent lights.
Warm spurts of blood hit the lapels of his coat, ran over the exposed skin of his fingers, dyeing them a sticky carnelian.
Kanda lifted his head in time to see Road crouch down— far too close —beside Allen, her lips curled upwards in a cruel smile. Slowly, deliberately, she tilted her head, such that her lips ghosted the shell of Allen's ear. Then she lifted her gaze, met his eyes from across the room, and the corners of her lips wrung up in a mockery of a smile.
Even from so far away, he could see Allen stiffen against her binds, her back ramrod straight, her pale gray eyes glazing over, as if in a trance.
No. No. Like fuck he was losing her here.
"Idiot apprentice!" he snarled, and did the only thing he could. Dropping one of the knives, he shoved his hand into his pocket. His fingers curled around the familiar grip of her chosen weapon, and drew it out of his pocket in the same motion.
He aimed, then threw the gun as hard as he could, partly a force of habit, and partly to even the score because she fucking owed him for pulling him into this godforsaken expedition. He took off without waiting to see if it would meet its mark — but he had faith in his aim. He rarely missed a target anymore.
It slammed into her side with a bruising crack, and she yelped, losing balance and toppling to her side. The fog cleared; her gaze snapped back into focus. He smirked, as one of the henchman behind her flinched, and took a half step back. Bad idea.
She took the opening he had given her, rolling away as the remaining barrel swivelled towards her, and brought one foot up to kick the gun away from her. The first henchman recovered, but screamed and dropped his gun when Kanda's blade found its mark, burrowing into his palm all the way up to the hilt.
In a flash, Road was beside her, gun wordlessly pressed to her temple. Allen's eyes widened, then narrowed, gunmetal gray blazing bright with anger.
With lightning-quick reflexes, Kanda's blade found itself poised against the side of her neck. From where he stood behind her, a little to her left, he could see a vein pulsating as it weaved through her temple.
Her pulse throbbed beneath his fingers, strong and holding steady. Unperturbed.
In return for his impertinence, the muzzle of a gun found its way to his temple, its touch cold as ice, leaching warmth from where it was pressed into his skin.
Road's laugh clawed out of her throat and tore through the air, a harsh, ugly sound that called to mind the image of nails scrapping the bottom of a barrel. The atmosphere gained crushing weight; the tension drew taut enough to cut with.
His knife bit into her skin as she shook with laughter, drawing a thin line of red. She paid it no mind.
"So rude. Barging into my territory without express permission, decimating my forces, pointing your blade at your host. No manners whatsoever."
"Let her go." Kanda was in no mood to play around.
"My, you're a sore loser, aren't you? But I'm willing to be generous." Her voice was light, still amused. "A pity it's over, though, that was a thrilling performance! I'll be wanting an encore."
She pressed a hand to Allen's face, her touch uncharacteristically gentle. Slender fingers cupped around a pale cheek, as if she was something precious to be protected. The white-haired girl faltered, confused, still angry.
"You will come back to me, Allen. I know you will. And when you do, I will be here, waiting."
She made a motion with her fingers. Her last remaining henchman hesitated. She turned to him, eyes hard. He acquiesced reluctantly. A second later, the touch of cold metal left his temple.
Kanda scowled. Dropped his blade. Glared at his assigned partner, who seemed to deflate under his withering gaze.
Good. She knew what was coming to her.
Agonizingly slowly, Road moved her gun. Raised her hands in a show of mock surrender.
Kanda kept his eyes fixed on her, even as he slipped behind Allen, severing the ropes with a fierce tug. She winced, rubbed her wrists in an attempt to get her blood flowing again, her skin raw and red where the hemp had bitten into it. He picked up her gun from where it had fallen to the ground after he had thrown it at her, and wordlessly pressed it into her fingers. Hesitantly, she palmed it, and slipped it back into the empty holster by her hip.
Back to back, they crossed the diagonal of the room, towards a window by the side. As they passed the bodies, Allen turned and fixed her gaze on him. Lips pursed tightly, he gave her a short, sharp nod. He was in no position to do it himself, not when he had his hands full watching the viper in the room. She needed no further encouragement, stooping to work the blades free.
He took them from her with his left hand, gaze averted. With his right Kanda fingered the blade that had tasted Road's blood, eyes fixed on her slight form, expression defiant. If she decided to follow them, it would find its mark in her heart.
A clicking noise came to him from behind as the firing mechanism engaged. Piercing gunshots, as Allen shot the window in. Glass tinkled as the shards fell to the floor, turning a dusky red under the dying light of the sun.
She hopped onto the sill and pulled him up beside her, all of her attention fixed on Road. Kanda, for his part, did not have to look to know that they were on the fourth floor, and that it was a straight drop down into a river. From below them came the distinct sound of rushing water, and he prayed that the currents were not so strong as to overwhelm them.
Road's laughter followed them all the way down. Then there was only water as it rushed up to meet them, before it swallowed them whole.