White Demon, Red Scribe
A D Gray-Man and Assassins Creed Revelations Crossover

For the following few days Allen wandered around the city wrapped up in a long red scarf to conceal his features, gathering all kinds of interesting rumors about his new target. He made a trip to the Romani camp to ask around for some help and even despite emptying his pouch and almost lost his soles because of all the dancing he had to go though, he knew that he would not be disappointed with the information he will, hopefully, get later.

He made a stop at a few brothels to ask the girls to keep an extra eye on the chap he was looking for in return for letting them take care of him for several wonderful hours during which he had to pinch himself several times to keep his task in mind. Knowing people at these kinds of places had its advantages. Not that it was all for free but he was ten times more happier "working" while laying down than dancing his poor feet off.

Not even two days after his snooping around and giving out money to potential informants, Allen was rewarded by several very reliable leads, of which most pointed out one place in general.

And so, Allen Walker, also called "The White Demon", clad himself in the finest silks he borrowed from the brothel girls, concealed his scar with the powder Emil gave him, put a veil over his face and headed to the brothel where the man should most probably show up.

All this farce was actually not so bad, Allen mused as he slapped yet another offending hand off his butt. The men were lecherous but none of them too daring - a slap or a brief threat was enough to discourage any overly invading touches and he only had to draw his blade once, which he considered to be a big accomplishment.

Soon enough, a girl took him to the side and pointed out the man he was looking for.

A gaunt man with a hardly overseeable scar on his chest that made an 'X' from shoulders to hip, and a glabrous smile plastered on his face sitting in the far corner of the dark room, smoking a hookah and getting pretty handsy with a couple of girls. He looked a little rough, but only slightly muscled. He stretched out languidly in comfort, seeming easily distracted by the women and girls he had at his service, but not enough that Allen didn't catch his gleaming eyes.

Not hesitating for a single while, Allen made his way over, discreetly letting the girls know that he would take over.

"Hello dear sir," he greeted with a velvety voice as he straddled his legs. "Having fun tonight?"

A thin smile stretched across his features as Allen came to straddle him, shifting slightly to what he seemed to deem a more comfortable position.

"Well if I wasn't before, I am now," he chuckled huskily, gingerly brushing a few locks away from Allen's face. "You are a pretty little thing. I've seen a lot of beauties in my time, but never with such magnificently white hair before. Is it natural?"

Placing his hands on the man's chest, Allen tilted his head as if in shyness. "Why thank you very much," he said as he chuckled lightly, "all natural, I promise." With a gentle caress across the man's pectorals, Allen continued. "This is a very impressive scar," he purred, "tell me how it happened."

"Not much to tell," Demir hummed cryptically, the back of his hand lightly brushing down his cheek, then ghosting down his neck to the collarbone. "Lots of people in this world fancy blades, and eventually we all get caught by one somewhere. Luck favors some of us above others enough to survive it. So how came such a pretty thing to this place? I would think someone somewhere would want to spare more than a few coin for a flower surely picked from God's own private garden such as you." He flashed another charming smile.

"Fancy indeed, but not many can use them properly. The scar seems like a thing with an interesting story behind it." He answered, trying to decide whether to get the man into a more private place to ´talk´ or stay here and steer the conversation where he want's it to go.

Still, the weird spark in the man's eye... and he has to be careful.

Allen leaned into the touch, ignoring the unpleasant tingle in his skin and smiled, shifting a little bit on Demir's legs to sit more comfortably. "You flatter me sir. But I am perfectly happy where I am. People here have more interesting stories to tell than the ones clad in gold and lies."

Demir smirked, tracing the nail of his thumb lightly over the pulse of his neck. "Yes, here you can still find those clad in gold, but with far looser lips, hm? Not many things in this world can make men talk of the secrets they guard, but some things... can garner whatever one wants to know." There was an almost hinting quality to his voice. Subtle, but still existent.

He pushed himself to sit up and tilted his legs up so that Allen slid against him, burying his lips close to Allen's ear as the hand traced down his chest and his side in the same deliberate manner. His voice lowered to a whisper, dripping with seductive tenor.

"Perhaps there's something you would like to know, and loosen from my lips, and just maybe I would like to know exactly how wide this flower blossoms."

Allen's heart jumped into his throat as the man shifted but forced himself to stay calm, very aware of the finger pressing against his neck.

He had to bit his lip from lashing out on this guy. Faulklin was right - the man was a snake. A game indeed. But did the man know...?

He felt his warm breath ghost over his ear, which sent shivers down his back. Still, he kept his blade sheathed. He scraped his fingers along the back of the man's skull, pressing his own lips against the man's ear in return.

"Will you tell me about your scar then, dear sir?" He whispered, "Let's go somewhere less crowded where I can treat you really special..."

Just few more moments. Just few moments longer. Allen repeated in his mind. Just don't stab him by accident! Damn the man made his skin crawl.

He took Demir's hand and backed off of the man, careful not to break the eye contact.

He cracked a self-assured smile, rising almost as soon as Allen did, never letting too much distance grow. He traced his fingers back up his neck, to his jaw, and his thumb momentarily swiped caressingly over the shorter man's lips. His eyes danced with what might have been amusement, and something else, tilting his head slightly as he eyed the other thoroughly.

"Lead the way, little flower. I'm eager to see your garden." He stayed a pace or two behind as he fell into step, watching Allen intently as though admiring him as they walked.

The second Allen turned around to lead the way, his face turned into a painful grimace.

The word garden will never be the same again. Oh, he's going to give him a flower all right. On his tombstone when this is all over.

He lead the way upstairs, trying to urge the man as quickly and as discreetly as possible, trying to avoid any further touches. Once the door closed, Allen allowed himself to relax a little bit.

Demir hummed what might have been approval, crossing the room casually until he reached the bed, where he sat down and motioned for Allen to join him. More specifically, to come sit in the same place against him as before.

"I believe we last left off somewhere...?"

Allen actually laughed when he saw the man sit down and invite him to join. He bit his lip and unveiled his face, walking back to the door and - oh so innocently - twisting the key until he heard the satisfying click. The man didn't seem to be bothered by that.

Good.

Allen made his way back to Demir, deciding to humor the snake-like man no longer. He stood in front of him, a dark smile playing on his lips.

"Ready for storytelling?"

"Perhaps I am," Demir hummed, sitting back lazily and propping himself up by either arm. Despite the look that crossed Allen's face, he seemed unbothered by it, as if nothing had changed, either not having the first clue what this was truly about, or having known all along. It was impossible to tell. "For the right incentive. Or maybe I'm not. It can be so hard to remember things sometimes. Details always seem to slip through the cracks. Perhaps you could help jog my memory." He licked his lips deliberately.

The corner of Allen's lip quirked upwards a few times.

"Jog your memory, eh?" He dropped his voice low, all pretending be damned.

This guy had some nerve...

He stepped closer, internally gagging at Demir's almost excited look.

With a jerk of his wrists, he bared his blade and put his leg on the bed, right between the man's thighs. "How about you tell me the news you picked up around the city and I let you walk out with the majority of your limbs still in tact?"

The real game starts now.

The man sighed through his nose in a humoring sort of way. If he was intimidated at all, he hid it perfectly.

"You Assassins, always so quick to draw a blade... but you can't get everything you want all the time with steel and blood." He smirked again, the same confident, self-assurance as before. "And asking for every bit of news in the city is a lot to ask, much less for free. Every word has a price."

He was going to murder the man in cold blood and decorate the wall with his innards pretty soon if this kept up. Just how cocky could he get? The man only calmly watched him.

"Sorry," Allen offered mockingly, "but the garden is a ruined land and the flower withered a long time ago. You already got your treat. The rest of the payment will be me letting you go in one piece. I want to know about a man from Italy that came a few weeks ago and perhaps asked around the city for an assassin with white hair and scarred face," Allen said as he undid the tie that held his hair and wiped the thick layer of powder off his face with the piece of fabric he wore around his shoulders. "How about that?"

The man sighed again, more honestly this time, and let his head rest back.

"I hate people who don't listen."

He seemed content to stay where he was, stock still. Without even a twitch of forewarning, he grabbed the wrist with the hidden blade and bracer, twisting it tightly behind Allen's back, holding it there and flipped them, pinning the smaller man with his full weight into the bed so that Allen's legs straddled him again, so that he couldn't be kicked or kneed in the groin. All of it in a blinding second, exactly like the lashing snake he'd been described as.

He leaned in close, his breath on Allen's ear, hissing with carefully slow enunciation.

"I don't play other people's games."

He was fast, alright. Faster than Allen would have guessed. But he realized that a second too late - with his back pressed against the soft mattress.

There was silence for half a second where they only stared at each other, until a metallic click echoed in between them and Allen bared his hook-blade, menacingly tapping the man's crotch with it.

"Me neither," he growled, wiggling a little to see of he could push the man off. Their position was very... unpleasant. Not that he wasn't used to something like this, but he fancied being under a different man.

"I would advise against that." Demir didn't move, seeming just as unshakably calm as he had from the start. He was obviously well-practiced at what he did, too nonchalant about it to be any kind of stranger to the position both found themselves in. "After all, you're not the only one in this city who is hunting. It would be very unfortunate, were you to give me reason not to withhold what other sides might want to know, about certain rumored traitors." Allen froze at the word 'traitor'. His chest constricted and he was sure his heart left out more than one beat. Demir smiled knowingly. "And it would be equally so for you to lose leads you can't afford to let die with me."

"You know of him," Allen whispered, almost giving in and letting his guard down. He looked lost for a brief while but he pulled himself together in a blink of an eye. "Who is he? Tell me where I can find him, so I can put an end to this!" The fire inside of him was burning bright again. The images of his dead students - Tim lying under the blanket; Emil nailed on the wall and his heart laid upon Allen's armor - filled his head. "Tell me!" He repeated, forgetting about his discomfort.

"You're still not listening~" Demir hummed. "I don't talk for free, and for threats and blades, the only thing you'll get is what you want to hear, not what you need to know. A very keen difference. The only thing in question now is..." He trailed off, and a hand trailed up, skimming over Allen's thigh but stopping just short of reaching its suggested destination. "-how badly do you need to know? How many more lives ride on it, hm?" His eyes flicked upward meaningfully. "I don't give charity, nor do I steal. I work in... transactions. In order to get something from me, I need something from you that's worth my while."

He didn't elaborate on what would count as 'worth his while', leaving it entirely open-ended to see what sort of proverbial cards Allen would throw onto the table.

"If you have nothing worthwhile to offer, then our business here is already concluded."

Allen took a shaky breath and sheathed his hook-blade. However unpleasant the man was, he was right - threats would get him nowhere. Not when he didn't want to have more blood on his hands.

He went completely slack for a moment, turning his head to the side and sighed. Demir was almost glowing with sudden excitement. With his left hand, Allen reached to the back of the man's head, gently raking his fingers though the dark hair.

"I am very desperate," he whispered, putting on the best desperate look he could muster. He felt Demir's body relax a little bit, which was his chance for retaliation. "-but I'm not a common whore," Allen growled and swung his head upwards, hitting the snake-man right in the nose, then used his hook-blade to catch on the fabric of the man's left leg and pulled, turning the man finally over so he was free to jump up.

"Quid pro quo, then." Allen said, taking a step back from the bed where the man sat, cussing and holding his bloody nose. Allen sighed again and unwrapped the long scarf around his shoulders, holding it up to him. "Here, it's ruined by the powder anyway."

Demir took his time going for the tossed scarf, not terribly desperate, and pretty soon he laughed low under his breath, recovering quickly.

"Perhaps, then, we can come to some other arrangement," he mused, leaning forward and trying to get his nose to stop bleeding. His eyes flicked upward, his head still tilted down, waiting to see what Allen would do. "You're not a common whore, after all, and I don't give out free scraps, so it appears we have come to an impasse."

"Information for information then? I have heard you fancy collecting those. Maybe I know something that could help you live another day," Allen tried, not really believing that he possessed that kind of knowledge but it didn't hurt to try.

He turned around to get a clean linen sheet out of the very small table in the corner and started to wipe his face with it. The powder felt heavy on his face and once he got rid of it completely it was as if his skin could breathe again. He tossed the cloth away and sat on the bed again, minding the distance between himself and Demir.

"You alright?"

"It wouldn't be the first time I've had a bloody or broken nose," Demir dismissed nonchalantly. In a touchy trade like his, walking away with just that was often lucky.

He laughed faintly.

"And yes, information for information. To label it in such a trivial way as something that may save my life though is not a ploy I fall for. I've been doing this trade long enough to know how to conduct myself without endangering my life." He sniffed, tilting his head up and wiping away some of the blood still dribbling from his nose. " 'Safe' information is worthless. Risky intel is where the true worth lies."

"So, what is it going to be?" Allen asked, hoping that Demir would ask something he would know. "If nothing else I could pay in money." He paused, then added curiously, "I know I have set some people to get you out, but how did you know?" referring to his cross-dressing. He knew that there were very few people with hair like he had but there were always ways to bleach it. He also relayed on the atmosphere in the room downstairs - it was hard to tell many colors from one another, firstly because of the light and secondly because of the incenses and smoke.

Demir chuckled under his breath.

"I have my own little birdies that fly back with tell of things. You thought you were hunting me with false rumors, and that I was unaware of it, but I knew long before stepping into this building in wait for you." His nose had stopped bleeding by now, and he tossed the cloth aside. "And no matter how well dressed, there are some things a man posing as a woman cannot hide, if you know what to look for."

"You didn't seem to mind," Allen chuckled crossing his legs.

"There's little room to retain such bias when being indiscriminate carries more benefit."

"But you came prepared, I give you that. The rumors are true then."

Demir looked at Allen now, that same calculative gleam still present, but he made no moves. Suddenly, Allen was glad for the space between them.

"As for the information, impress me. Something I couldn't simply find out off the streets and equal in worth to what you want me to tell you. In order to know everything going on in a city, one has to know what goes on in the most impenetrable of places, of secrets that only a few select know." A serpent smile twitched across his face. "It's imperative to running a successful business, lest any competitor's make your life worth a little less to those who matter."

When the man finished what he was saying, a frown appeared on the assassin's face.

"How do I know you won't stab me in the back after I leave this building?" Demir wanted essential information, one he could trade for the similar kind. He had one, but if it fell into the wrong hands, it could cause far more evil than anyone could imagine. Allen would no longer be tainted by blood - he would be swimming in it. "How do I know that the information you possess is true?"

Demir stood, walking to another part of the room to pour a glass of wine, idly swirling it.

"Whether you decide to trade for information, that's your gamble to choose. I'm in the same position. There's only so many ways for me to validate if what you tell me is true, and only after we conclude our business. That means we're on even footing, in that regard." He threw his head back, taking a long swig. "And to stab one in the back, first you have to take sides. You seem to already know your way around one such kind of person who keeps his loyalties as close as he does the identity he plays. I work in much the same way."

Allen bit his lip in thought. Indeed, Lavi chose his place of stay carefully and avoided taking sides, but it was his job to do so. Demir, on the other hand, was tied to nothing but his own needs.

"He is something completely different," Allen murmured, knowing pretty well that the only side Lavi would ever going to take was his. The assassin stood up as well and walked to the window, leaned against the wall next to it and stared outside into the darkness.

Demir laughed.

"Are you so sure we're that different?" he mused. "A bookman is a bookman. They're all the same. They play roles, put on errs, but in the end, that's all it is, all in the name of the next juicy piece of information. Nothing but business. A business that they choose to take part in." He seemed amused, clearly thinking Allen to be naive. "And they take whatever side benefits them most, nothing more."

Allen stared at the ground, a soft smile playing on his lips. He didn't care about what the man thought about him. "But not all men are the same," he said quietly, crossing his arms on his chest.

"You know the rumors around the city," he said finally. Maybe confirming few of them could help him get to his hunter, or make the hunter get straight to him without leaving presents or more corpses. "What do the rumors say about me?"

He shook his head with a smile and poured another glass of wine.

"That would depend. There are always plenty of rumors. People love to talk. Not everyone talks of the same things, or spreads the same rumors, you know."

"What rumors about me would you like to confirm or dismiss? I may help with a few. Wanna do this as a quick questioning? Your turn, my turn?"

"We-ll... what I know, is that, within the ranks of the Assassins, the ones here and the ones where you come from aren't on the same side. For one reason or another, they want you and your colleagues dead and out of the picture, as far as I can figure, but they can't do that without taking you all out one at a time, because they don't have numbers on their side. Reeks of foul play of some kind. The million dollar question is, of course, what are they so intently after," Demir said, turning and leaning his back against one of the narrow, long tables against the wall, swirling his glass.

"Since you and them are from the same place, and they went to all the trouble of following you here, I'm guessing you're the King on the chess board that they have to check-mate."

"You are wrong only in one thing." Allen fixed his stare on the dark haired man. "They only want me. My colleagues, or in other words - those who knew the about ´the truth´ are long since gone." Except one man, but that was something Demir didn't need to know. "They hunt only me, everyone else is not important. Well, everyone who doesn't know. But the question is, do you know?"

Allen walked over to the man and stopped only few inches away, reaching to the table to pour himself some wine as well, his eyes never leaving the other. "Are you a man yearning for absolute power and eternal youth? What do you know about my hunter?"

Demir smirked, laughing softly.

"No such thing as eternal youth or immortality, but it makes for good payment to those who buy into such things with any seriousness, in search of true treasures." He downed another sip.

"What I know, is that some months ago, a white-haired man appeared in the city I call home, who was from out of country. After he arrived, there were whispers, of a White Demon, among the well-informed, that also originated from a source beyond the borders, and those whispers trickled through local sources, and back again. Then mysterious killings started to happen some weeks later, all associated to the Assassins, and their allies began to watch the streets more carefully. When things happen, certain people notice, and certain people listen to talk and pass it along. What I know, is that the killer is a man, and he hides somewhere in plain view." He left off there, silence following as he drank.

"It is a good thing to rouse people with, though. Scholars who believe such words kill and experiment with children, bathe in their blood, believing that one day they will fine the essence of eternal life. Preachers preach about Gods and their unreachable and divine powers, warn people not to reach too high or else they will burn and yet they secretly search for a way to have those powers to themselves. Two parties entered the city not long ago and both of them search for the same unknown thing. But, as you said, only one man knows The Truth I keep watch over, so tell me, which one is he - a preacher, or a scholar?"

"It could be that he is neither," Demir pointed out a third option. "I don't know what he is, but I do know what he isn't. He doesn't cloak himself amongst your number. He doesn't pose as any sort of warrior or soldier either, such as amongst the Byzantines." He could already tell that Allen was ready to ask and confirm that he didn't know who the hunter was, but didn't give enough pause to let him follow through, going ahead anyway. "In short, I don't know exactly who to point you to to satisfy your blades with, but for the right price, I can find out. Webs take time to weave, however, so the answer will not be so immediate."

Allen swallowed the lump in his throat and downed his glass of wine. He should have known. But at least he knows now where he doesn't have to look.

"What do you want in return?" He asked, kind of dreading the answer.

"This truth of which you speak. I want to know what it is," he hinted interestedly. "And for it, and what I've already told you, I'll find his identity for you. You can always try following your leads on your own, of course, and forget about telling me, however," he paused for another sip. "I can guarantee you that, if those leads run dry, you won't know where to look next, whereas I, however, already do."

Allen nodded, albeit with hesitation. "If I tell you about The Truth, should I be worried about you sending men after me? I would hate to see more people getting killed over this. You are a clever man, I hope I don't need to tell you to watch which way the wind blows the words."

"Now you're finally playing the game like someone who knows what they're doing," Demir voiced with a smirk, tilting his head slightly, his eyes glinting as he seemed to size Allen up and down with a similar infatuation to far earlier in their encounter. "What I deal in is information, not strong-arming. You asked me if I wanted power, but I already have it. Knowing all that I do and knowing what others don't know, and don't know that I know, gives me true power. Of course, that power is easily enough lost if I give it up too carelessly, now isn't it?"

"Indeed," Allen said in a low voice, frowning. "So what is it going to be? If you want my body, I'd have to decline." He didn't miss how Demir eyed him once more. "I'm already taken. Choose something within reason."

"Taken?" Demir thought back to some of Allen's earlier defending words, and laughed to himself. "Surely not to that bookman? And I told you - the truth that your enemy is after. That is my price."

Allen smiled, feeling his chest lighter again. "No, not to the bookman." He bit his lip and raised his brow. "It could be a woman."

"It could be a lot of things less publicly mentionable too," Demir joked in sick humor, though it was questionable how joking he truly was. Allen let the comment slip, not wanting to develop the idea any more. "And you still have not answered me on the information I require for my services."

"We trade information. The one I want is the one you don't have yet. I am going to answer you when you have it. Fair trade. Let me know when you are ready to trade, and maybe, if I'm going to be satisfied with it, I will show you, rather than tell you." He tilted his head then, pouting. "You are not going to tell me how to find you, are you?"

"If I have no assurance that the information is worth my while, then I have no reason to expend energy searching for what you want to know," Demir responded levelly, not to be deterred. "And if you want to find me again, you already know how. My birds will fly the message to me when you need to find me, all you have to do is leave out crumbs for them to find."

"Is the hunt on my head not proof enough? I don't know how else I can assure you that I'm not lying," Allen thought for a while, pacing across the room.

"I never said I thought you a liar," Demir pointed out coolly. "Only that I don't know if the information is worth my trouble. There could be any vast number of reasons why someone would want you dead. It doesn't mean it's worth anything to anyone outside of yourself and the one who wishes such fate upon you."

"Fine," Allen huffed, going to the other corner where he stashed his things. "Close the curtains, would you?" He asked as he dug through the clothes to find his pouches. He walked back to Demir and took a deep breath. "If the hunter comes to pay you a visit, tell him I still possess it." He said and opened the pouch, taking out the golden orb that lay within it; round, encased in golden plates, and glowing faintly, like something out of old myths of magical items wielded by heroes and gods. Soon enough the lines engraved into it were filled with liquid light that lazily flowed through it.

For a moment, he almost seemed mesmerized by it, the light of the object dancing off his eyes, before they flicked back to Allen with rapt attention.

"When I bring you the information you want, I want to see how it works." He seemed clever enough to figure out that asking for a demonstration now was likely a request that wouldn't be granted until Allen had what he wanted: the identity of the hunter. But his interest was definitely piqued more than before. "Until then, consider our deal official. We'll meet again when I discover something worth reporting."

A satisfied smile bloomed on Allen's face.

"Pleasure to do business with you, dear sir." He returned to the chest in the corner, carefully putting the object inside. "At least I can finally get rid of this garment," he murmured as he began to strip from the ridiculous clothes he wore with a little more difficulty than he would have liked.

"The pleasure was all mine," Demir purred, moving back to the bed and stretching out on it, making himself comfortable.

There was still no shortage of eye-balling the other occupant of the room, shameless in glancing him over as he changed with a crooked smirk propped up by one arm lazily, enjoying the show and Allen's frustration at trying to get back into something else entirely too much.

"An extra word of advice, for the next time we meet. Best not to wrap and present someone with false gifts," he glanced him up and down meaningfully. "If you don't intend that they should try to open and take them. It's just bad business."

Allen froze just as he pulled the fabrics over his head and turned around to glare at the other who was visibly very satisfied with his struggles.

"That was just a precaution. Also, it's easier to get man to talk like this. Or in other words - less bloody. Although thanks to you, the word ´garden´ is never going to be the same. Ever." He shuddered, carelessly tossing the clothes on the floor.

Dressing in his pants and the sleeveless overcoat, Allen turned to the side to conceal his burnt arm at least a little bit, undid the belts on his blades and peeled off the silky glove, hastily replacing it with his own custom made one.

"We started off a wrong foot," he said as he put on the weapons in place. "How about a deal-sealing drink?"

Allen's anger only had the man more amused, sitting back up slightly.

"I would love to."