Thus the last installment of my little - but totally not little in any sense of the word - mini-break/series/whatever this was comes to an epic ending.
I'm sad to say goodbye to this incredibly thrilling ride. Like usual, I have a song that goes with this chapter.
Enjoy the insanity of this chapter. To all my loyal readers, to all my newcomers, to anyone who clicked on this randomly, even to those few who clicked on this and then clicked away in disgust-
Thank you. :)
The crowd was larger than she expected. The excited murmuring of the bustling bodies outside her alleyway made her sigh with mild relief. They would be a good cover for her, but it would be a nightmare if civilians were caught in crossfire. It depended on how many men Caesar appointed to guard him. Several loud male voices called out to one another. She listened with attentiveness to the engineers and tech crew fiddling with the microphone system on the large, half built platform. It rested on the marble steps of the towering museum. She couldn't see properly from where she hid. Biting her lower lip, she knew she'd have to leave her alleyway if she was going to try and study her surroundings properly. It was a gamble if Caesar knew she was coming for him. Maybe he didn't know. Maybe he hadn't put any protection on himself.
There was only one way to really find out.
Alright, Hitomi, she thought, clenching her fists with determination. Just step out and then back in. No big deal. They can't tell you apart from the crowd that easily.
Taking several shaking steps forward, she tried to make her face as excited as possible to blend with the happy crowd. Behind her wide grin, her green eyes danced intensely over the massive eight-story masterpiece in front of her. The tell-tale giant statues of the great guymelefs lined the very top of the beautiful, classically-shaped building; symbolizing the guardians of Gaia. Her eyes left the guymelefs and began traveling to the various windows lining the walls.
Right side? Nothing. Left side? Still nothing. Bottom floor? Not even a shadow. Twisting her head calmly from the right side to the left, she checked the various brick buildings and shops that littered the street.
Could it really be true? Her heart rose.
So, he doesn't expect me…
A whisper of movement drew her sharp gaze back to the moralized robots and she almost gasped as her stomach churned with horror. An almost invisible line of small, skinny black shadows were moving slowly and inconspicuously back and forth from underneath the stone capes of the mechas; combing the streets around her. Backing away immediately into the deepest part of the alleyway across the street, Hitomi pressed herself further into the brick wall and tried to catch her failing breath. The tight blue tank top was damp with her nervous sweat. She wrapped her arms around her body and shivered. Her hands were freezing cold.
Sniper rifles.
So, they were waiting for her.
Caesar knew.
Swallowing, she turned her sharp eyes to the backs of the various heads that stood just outside her alleyway. She bit her lip harder, making herself bleed. No one else even seemed aware of what was going on. No one was looking up at all. Everyone was watching as the platform's support poles were screwed together. Idle excited chatter rumbling in mass waves. Hitomi wanted to growl at herself as frustration and fear pulsed hot in her veins. A sharp burn appeared behind her flashing green eyes.
Everyone here was in danger because of her. Was it too late to turn back? How was she going to live with herself if she was the cause of innocent deaths?
You probably won't survive anyway. Her mind reasoned and she lifted a hand to wipe away an escaping tear. You're stupid, Hitomi. Now is not the time to lose your cool. You are better than this. After all you have been through… after all that you've done… all that has been sacrificed… 'naps have died before while you tried to save them. Accidents happen. Don't lose your cool.
She leaned forward and sent a furtive glance towards the assassins on the rooftop. Holding her breath, she stepped slightly from the darkness to judge the platform. Ten feet off the ground, give or take a few inches. That would save her from hitting anyone with a stray bullet. The technical crew had begun working on the sound system. Aside from the growing crowd, Hitomi swallowed nervously as she noticed that the number of police surveillance had doubled within the last few minutes. Their eyes swung left and right like the snipers, searching the crowd. The uniformed men and women surrounded the platform like a human fence. She'd have to sneak carefully through. She suddenly wished she'd taken that hoodie from the apartment closet. Even if it was too small to zip up, hiding her face could be the difference between life and death.
Caesar is very thorough.
Seeing the shadows of the rifles scanning the mob at the top of her vision, she instantly backed away once more and pressed her body flat on the wall.
She looked down at her small, shaking hands.
"It's time to finish this." She encouraged herself with a fierce whisper.
A large squeaking feedback of the microphone made her jump.
"Testing… testing…. One-two… one-two..."
Flashing lights of four police vehicles pulled up on the road that was being blocked off and Hitomi's heart thumped wildly. In the middle of the cop cars, a shiny black Beamer with government official flags waving merrily on the sides stopped next to the platform. Pushing off from the wall, she watched with quiet green orbs as two 'naps– a male and a female – stepped out of the front seat. Simple black scarfs covered their collars, but she had seen enough collared people to tell, even from far away. The lack of human in the way they controlled their bodies. The unnatural straightness of their back. Their cold indifference to anything and everything around them.
The male turned and opened the passenger door. Her eyes couldn't leave from the old, gentle form of Dornkirk. His long beard swaying in the afternoon wind, his fresh suit tailored to perfection, his smile reaching those kind eyes.
Rage burned her, taking away her fear of death. This was it. This was her destiny.
The stage was set, the large crowd was growing quiet, and the short-haired girl took a willing step closer towards the entrance. Out of her hiding place and into the huge throng of innocent people. The sun fell on her skin, warming her body. Reaching back, she pulled the gun from her pocket and switched off the safety.
Three bullets…
For Balgus. For Grandma Nina. For Allen. For the beautiful souls of the 'naps. For the pawns still trapped in the arena. For those she couldn't save in the races. For the future.
For Van.
Showtime.
The honking of cars, the loud idle chatter of pedestrians, and the flourishing shops of downtown Austuria fell into a strange mingling ambience in his foggy mind. Van focused on his breathing; the training of his past forcing him to naturally jump into self-preservation mode. Calm the mind. Slow the heart rate. Keep an easy pace. Trying not to think of the time quickly ticking away, he couldn't stop his heart from squeezing in fear and anxiety. Lifting his blinking mahogany eyes, he read the traffic signs above his head.
Sapphire Lane and Valrie Street. The museum was about eleven blocks from here following down Valrie Street. Gazing down the bustling sidewalk, Van almost groaned.
That was a looooong way.
Swallowing down a sour bile building in his throat, stars winked around the passing cars and hurried people. A streaking black shadow encroached further on the sides of Van's vision and he unwillingly staggered to the right to lean against a display window. His legs couldn't go any further. His feet refused to take another step. Several civilians carrying shopping bags gasped in surprise as he pressed his forehead into the cool glass and braced himself with his hands. He hardly noticed the red smear of blood he left on the glass. Sticky sweat stuck his new black shirt on his tan shoulders. Trying desperately to keep his balance, he clenched his tan fists in frustration as the world took a strange dive.
Well, this wasn't good.
Glancing down with fuzzy narrow eyes, he noticed the bandage on his arm was red with blood. He'd opened his wound again. He'd unthinkingly punched the guard at the apartment door with his left hand. What a stupid thing to do.
Biting back a curse, Van closed his eyes for a brief second in attempt to stop his spinning world. This wasn't the way it was supposed to go. They should have planned something together. What could she be thinking? Was she trying to catch the Mayor without his bodyguards somehow? Was she going to sneak in while he was up on stage? She probably didn't have any clue what she was getting herself into. A sliver of dread and panic mixed with his already fragile state.
A flash of her smooth clear face pierced through the growing black.
She must have known that the alcohol would knock him out. Shaking his head, Van knew he'd known it too. He hadn't been thinking clearly. If he had been thinking clearly, none of this would have happened. He wouldn't have fallen so deeply asleep and let her slip through his fingers.
Who was he kidding? He hadn't been thinking clearly ever since he'd met her. No. Before that. When he was handed her picture. It was as if everything in his world had completely changed. He was shoved head first into a world he'd never known existed. Into a conspiracy that was happening right before his eyes. Right before everyone's eyes.
A sharp pang hit Van's heart like a piercing arrow.
Hitomi was going to die.
And he was once again too weak to help. Too weak to save those he cared about.
What was he going to do?
"Hitomi, you idiot," Van panted. His heart hammered in his chest and beads of sweat ran down his face. A feverish chill rushed down his arms and up his spine. "Like hell I'll let you die-"
A loud honk and a "Get out of the road, moron!" behind him caught his attention and he turned his dazed mahogany eyes to the hectic street. Van's brain seemed to freeze in shock as a flash of familiar white-blond hair dazzled in the afternoon sun. The man smiled lazily at him while strolling confidently in the middle of the street; closing the gap between them. Cars squealed to a stop. The man didn't even flinch as a large truck twisted into the lane next to him to avoid hitting him. He walked straight and tall, his shoulders calmly relaxed. The red in his eyes as vibrant as poison; completely focused on Van. His lips twisted the grin larger on his pale face as their eyes met.
"Shit…"
With heavy feet, Van staggered as fast as he could, using the wall on the right to brace himself. Blood seeped out of the bandage on his arm and dripped on the concrete. A universe of stars winked in his eyes and his head throbbed with terror.
The assassin had come.
Dilandau grinned widely as his eyes caught Fanel's. His blood rushed with thrill at the obvious fear in his prey's face. Dilandau immediately picked up his pace and stepped easily on to the sidewalk. "It's one of my mice. My sweet little mouse. I'm coming for you…" His red eyes stared excitedly at the familiar messy black hair that weaved in and out of the huge crowd of shoppers and business suits. Blinking as the noon sun flashed in his face, he reached back to unclick his sharp folding dagger that rested on his belt. Flipping it open, he kept the sharp blade at his side; his thumb running gently along the razor edge. His body ached with a sharp hunger to drive the dagger into flesh. A rush of pleasure washed over him as he watched Fanel's body hobble in desperation. He was already wounded.
The silver-haired man almost laughed as Fanel stumbled on a loose stone and fell on his knees to the concrete. This was too easy.
Dilandau was now only ten feet away.
Eight…
Five…
Fanel's entire body was trembling. He struggled in vain to rise, but his legs were obviously giving up on him. Dilandau saw his shaking fingers reach back for something tucked in his pants. His red eyes glinted as he raised the knife steady and focused on a perfect stabbing point on the man's broad back. Licking his lips, he could already taste the iron blood that would spill from Fanel's corpse. The death would come easy, but Dilandau knew he would continue to stab him long after. He'd make Fanel a mangled unidentifiable mess. He'd rip him open for the entire world to see.
Three feet away…
Fanel shifted on his knees and turned to face him; his mahogany eyes dazed with horror and fragility. Dilandau felt the familiar cold whisper of a hand brush against the back of his neck and what he saw made him stop short.
The skull…
The white skull on Fanel's black shirt.
It was hidden in the shadows of the fabric like it was ripping itself from the darkness. The pale boney face was smiling; its skeleton grin piercing out of the front of Fanel's chest. It was coming for him.
The dark closet full of dead.
The abbess' rotting hands reaching.
The wild woman's voice calling for him.
The sun glinted on Fanel for a moment. A second. The dark holes in the skull's eyes were brightened in the sun. A pair of lidless, white eyes instantly appeared in the empty sockets.
Watching.
Waiting for him.
Taking one step back, Dilandau stood in a captivated horror as the skull's white features warped.
Mutilated.
Morphed into a familiar spectral face. One that Dilandau had both been waiting for and running from.
It was him.
He was waiting! He was with Fanel! This was a trap!
With a sharp cry, the silver-haired man slashed wildly at Fanel's chest. Fanel backed away just in time and managed to stagger to his feet. Dilandau's stomach turned, his heart seemed to coil in his chest. The skull's smile was growing! The face becoming clearer! The visible eyes in the skull's face were glazed over with death.
"Get away! Get away from me! I'll kill you!" The words tore through Dilandau's throat. A familiar popping noise hit the air like thunder. Swinging the blade, Dilandau hardly noticed a sharp spike of agony race through his abdomen. His dagger missed Fanel again. The skull laughed the deep voice of the old man. He was laughing! Laughing at him!
"You're dead! You're dead and you aren't taking me with you!"
The popping noise happened again. A blooming unbearable pain burned Dilandau's insides. His fingers dropped the knife without his permission. They no longer had the strength to hold it. Taking his eyes off the skull, he glanced down at himself. His white shirt was quickly gaining two new red blobs on his stomach.
How?
When?
Fanel's upraised hand shook violently; a gun held by bloodstained fingers.
Frowning, Dilandau looked back at the skull again.
The skull wasn't emerging from the shirt. It was just a simple skull. The eyes had disappeared. The old man's morphing face was gone. Holding his hands to his bleeding stomach, the assassin let out a small gasp as a burning agony ripped through him; forcing him bow forward.
"You got me… old man…" Dilandau said to the shirt, his voice weak. He coughed and tasted a nasty iron flavor. Seeing his knife on the ground, he reached for it, but lost his balance. His face crashed hard on the ground and a riptide of overwhelming pain seized him. A bone-chilling cold raced up and down his arms. Glancing at his limbs, he saw his hands were grasped by icy fingers. Spectral arms emerged from the sidewalk, clawing at his wrists, holding him down. A chorus of ethereal voices whispered in his ears in a language he couldn't understand.
He couldn't move.
He couldn't escape.
"You will not interfere…" a voice mumbled the words. A squelching cough followed as more iron tasting saliva poured from his throat.
Only then did Dilandau realize he was the one who had said the words.
And that he had said it against his will.
As a swallowing darkness began to take over his mind, more familiar pale faces followed the growing black. All of them were spirits from those he'd killed. Lives he'd personally ended with his own hands. More icy fingers grasped and clawed at his body and he shook, fighting for life.
Each one of the ghosts were lidless in death. Just like the skull's eyes.
Lifting his red, glazing orbs to the figure above him, the sun shadowed Fanel's features, all except for the skull on his chest.
It was laughing again.
Van stumbled back and almost fell on his backside. The assassin – lying on his stomach on the sidewalk –fell still as his dull red eyes staring silently up at him. The silver-haired man's long body suddenly seized in short bursts of shock-waving death as if his spirit was refusing to leave his body. Staring in both fatigue and sick fascination, Van's ears barely registered the distinct sounds of distant screams. Shaking away his stunned stupor, he noticed many of the passing civilians had given them space and were running away from the bloody scene. A familiar wail of a police siren woke Van somewhat back to reality.
Turning from the staring corpse of the assassin, Van groaned and bent over as a wave of nausea hit him. He wavered like a small toddler while he tucked the gun back into the waistband of his pants. His fingers were slippery with blood. His vision fogged like a dense cloud. He knew he needed to get out of there as soon as possible. The police were the last people he wanted to see. Swaying on the spot, the black-haired man couldn't bring his feet to start walking. The black was massing further in his vision.
He wasn't aware he was falling backwards. His mind was numb.
His body was done.
Van started weakly as his back hit a solid, warm something and strong arms caught under his arms. Gentle, but firm hands wrapped around his torso and pulled him back to his staggering feet.
"Easier there, soldier." A deep voice murmured in his ear. "Looks like you could use a ride."
A familiar voice.
Too familiar.
No. It couldn't be.
Swiveling his pulsating head, Van's mahogany eyes glided into twinkling brown. Long curling gray hair, square glasses, a complete older version of his son…
Meiden Fassa…
Feet shuffled loudly as the numerous nuns and 'naps marched through the dripping, echoed underground tunnels that led out of the Orphanage. Merle shifted her tired and sore shoulders and brushed her vibrant colored hair out of her eyes. Glancing around the dark, slime-covered walls, she swallowed down a feeling of apprehension and continued to lead the four 'naps in her care. Two held her hand tightly and two others grabbed the edge of her black sleeves.
"Keep holding on to my robe, Julie." Merle whispered as she felt the small hand let go of the fabric at her wrist. Julie let out a small bit of undecipherable gibberish and moaned loudly. The poor girl had been rescued only three months earlier and was still hurting from a fractured wrist and sprained kneecap. Merle was thankful the girl didn't fight her and kept going regardless of the pain, but it seemed like the poor 'nap was almost to her limit.
"Keep going, everyone! We are almost to the outside!" A strong voice echoed down the tunnel from the front. The small nun sighed gratefully and tried to beat down the bad feeling rising in her stomach. Her heart pounding heavily, she frowned at her unnatural bout of anxiety.
"Sister April," Merle called out to the nun in front of her. "Can you see the end of the tunnel yet?"
"Not yet."
The girl wailed loudly and Merle tried to shush her gently. "Please, Julie, you'll be alright. Calm down, sweetheart-"
A popping so loud it rocked the tunnel bounced into her ears. Merle gasped, but it was drowned out by the piercing screams of 'naps.
Gunshots…
Her brain froze in fear. She stood still as several 'naps dropped to their knees, shrieking and crying. Many of her sisters tried to hold tight on their squirming bodies. More loud shots thundered ferociously and 'naps and nuns screamed alike. Merle was unaware that her 'naps had let go of her robes and were now running back the way they'd come.
"Your children, Merle!" April shouted startling the girl out of her shock. "The gunshots are behind us!"
Blinking, the redhead glanced around and realized with horror that she was standing alone. "Oh, God!"
"Don't go after them!" the sister shrieked as one of her 'naps tugged on her sleeve. She grabbed the offending 'nap and pushed him forward. "They are probably dead already!"
A fierce, protective anger unlike any she'd ever known ripped through her. "God help me if I let them die, April! They are my children!"
She turned on foot to race the dark tunnel of the underground waterway; April's protests following her. She could just hear Julie moaning loudly between the penetrating sounds of growing gunfire. Her anger pulsed with her fear. The horrible popping sounds seemed like they were flying all around her. "This can't be happening…" Her vision of the dark walls blurred as burning hot tears of fury filled her dark eyes. "This can't be happening right now… Oh, Righteous Father, please forgive me for letting them go! Please send someone to save my children!"
She let out a cry as something heavy collided with her body and sent her crashing to the dirty, slimy floor. With the breath knocked out of her lungs and the back of her head thumping painfully with her racing heartbeat, it was a good thirty seconds before Merle comprehended that the figure who had tackled her was nuzzling her neck. Reaching up, she touched long hair.
Julie…? But how?
Five pairs of feet came striding up to her struggling prone body. She gazed weakly to see a strange woman holding onto the arms of two more 'naps. A bright, blinding flashlight hit her face and immediately dropped to the floor to softly illuminate the tunnel. The flashlight holder walked quickly to her, pulling the last unaccounted for 'nap with him. He got on his knees beside her and, with a warm hand, brushed her back as he helped her sit up. She quickly studied the man. His dark hair was long, the tips brushing the collar of his multi-colored green uniform with the letters SDF printed on his chest. Noticing the two handguns belted to his waist and the large gun strapped to his back, she wrapped her arms around Julie to protect her.
"Are you alright, ma'am?"
"Who are you?" Merle asked feeling her anger hit her once more. "Are you here to kill us? If so, spare the children!"
"There is nothing to fear." The man beside her said with a smooth reassuring voice. "We came just as soon as they began to unload their equipment, ma'am. A few of those assassins came down here, but our group just took care of them."
The nun was confused. "Who?"
The soldier woman standing over her sighed. "Why can't you ever explain things properly, Amano?" Turning to Merle, she explained. "Sister, we are with the GIA Special Division Force. We were informed by one of our superiors that the criminal subject who goes by the name of 'Caesar' had sent a group of assassins were given orders to terminate everyone in this Orphanage. As soon as we got your exact location, we flew here and surrounded the building just in time to get rid of most of the men after you. A dunderhead that will remain anonymous" – The man named Amano ducked his head and looked at the ground as if in shame– "let a few escape through this passage. We have just taken care of them. It's all clear."
"It was an accident, Yukari… We got them anyway, didn't we?"
"You're lucky we did, imbecile." Yukari hissed, straightening her back and tossing her long auburn ponytail.
"You're here to save us... you actually came to save us…" Merle whispered. With a jolt, she realized the gunshot sounds were gone. The distant screams of the 'naps were the only resonance echoing in the waterway.
Amano looked back into her wide eyes and gave a small chuckle.
"Here we come to save the day."
One hour earlier
Dryden's hand tightened on his seatbelt as Millerna whipped the small jeep's steering wheel sharply to the left. Allen and Chid let out an identical "Wheeee!" from the back seat as the tires squealed their discomfort.
"I still can't believe you just left that assassin in the closet." His wife growled through clenched teeth.
"What was I supposed to do? Bring him with us?"
"We should have just ended him. What if he escapes?"
"He was hog tied to the chair, Millerna! He's not going anywhere. And we have to get to your sister's house as soon as- hang on. Boss' calling again." The brown-haired man winced as Millerna made yet another frightening turn, swiveling out and almost turning the opposite way. Three cars shrieked to a stop as the woman pressed the accelerator once more.
"If you would mind not driving like a crazy person, that would be swell, honey." Dryden complained.
The blond woman gave him a glare. "You think this is crazy? Don't test me, honey!"
"Eyes on the road!" Her husband shouted before answer the call. "This is Fassa!"
"Dryden, I've sent three SDF units as soon as I got your messages. They should be there within the next fifteen. We are still gathering the manpower and supplies for the takedown in near the Museum. We should be there at 1350. The information you sent said there would be more assassins from this Agency. Do you know the exact amount?"
Dryden opened his mouth to answer, but let out an undignified squeal as Millerna twisted dangerously on the highway ramp.
"Watch out, woman! You're going to kill us!"
"I'm doing just fine! You handle your dad!"
Turning back to the phone, the speckled man grimaced, "At least ten on the roof with sniper rifles, thirty dressed as regular APD cops, and another thirty hidden in the crowd as civilians."
"And they are all packing?"
"You read the message, old man! Packing heat like a menopausal woman." Millerna blue eyes zipped to her husband and she gave him an impatient look.
"Don't use that word in front of Chid!"
"Mama, what's 'menopausal' mean?"
Dryden glanced back at his son and said sweetly, "You have a lifetime to discover the mysteries of women, son. This is one of those, 'you'll find out when you need to' scenarios I was talking about."
The man on the phone sighed. "Can we focus back to the task at hand here?"
"This is the first time you've not wanted to talk about women, dad. We should have recorded this phone call." Dryden snorted a laugh. The blond woman gave his arm a strong punch and he grunted with pain.
"I like to talk about women, Dryden, but not that part of them..."
"What else do you need?" Dryden asked, scowling and rubbing the now sore spot on his arm.
"You're positive this Mr. Dornkirk is the one behind the races? The one called 'Caesar'?"
"I'd give it a solid eighty percent. He may be covering for someone above him, but from what the message states, it's clear 'Caesar' was planning a coming out party after this speech hits. Dornkirk is the leader in this particular assault. But we can't rule other possibilities out completely though."
"What other possibilities?"
"That he's a mislead old man and has no idea what he's really in. I highly doubt it though."
"Noted. What about this 'target'? What do we know about her?"
"Hitomi Kanzaki. Fought in the races all these years. Has tried to bring Caesar down with a secret group. She safe with Van last we knew. It seems as though she's their only target. They didn't mention anything about Van in their plans. I bet they still don't realize how much of a threat he is to them."
"Underestimating Fanel… that's a stupid move."
"His background is buried by the GIA. They have no idea who he really is."
"Regardless, he sure got himself buried deep in this mess."
"Dragged my entire family into it, too. Stupid bastard can't seem to help getting me involved in all his problems."
"Have you been able to contact him?"
"I haven't heard from him. I only know what Millerna told me."
"Do you think he'll be down there? The girl as well?"
"The leader of this assassin's group sure thinks so. They have quite the protection plan on this Austurian Grandpa."
"What of the plans in the message? Did you decode any more information?"
"Like I sent before, the first phone message said to rendezvous to the second floor of the Zaibach building and wait for placement. The second order was to file out naturally. Snipers get into place on top of the museum under the cover of the guymelefs at noon, cops patrol the perimeter until the Mayor arrives, and 'civilians' to scout the surrounding buildings five minutes till 2pm. If they failed to find the target before the speech starts, the orders were to wait and blend. And get this, boss. According to the news on my phone, Dornkirk said just this morning that he has something up his sleeve that will shut the GIA out for good. Regardless if he is the mastermind behind it, we can't let him give that proposal out. Not when a good third of this assassin group is hunting nuns in an underground tunnel. If we don't get this done, he'll take the GIA out politically and judiciously. He's nasty, boss."
Meiden was quiet for a moment. "Ah, shit. This is worse than I thought. Get your ass to that museum as fast as you can. We can use you and Millerna. I've gone with the first platoon and I'll meet you on the corner of Valrie Street and Sapphire Avenue."
"We have Chid and… someone else in the car with us. We were taking them to a safe place first. We may be a few minutes late for the speech to start. Millerna's going to take the back road from 28 and we'll keep in contact with the phones. With the way she drives, you never know. We might beat you there. You go ahead and take Valrie Street since it is a one-way right to the Museum."
"Drop the rug rat off and come immediately. And son?"
Hissing under his breath as his wife swept beside another car and almost grazed it, Dryden murmured, "Yeah, boss?"
"You're a good man."
Despite his racing heartbeat and the obvious danger his wife was putting on his life, the brown-haired man gave a lopsided smile and calmly twirled a loose curl around his finger.
"I love you too, old man."
Keeping the gun at her side, Hitomi let a silly excited grin slide on her pale face as she watched Caesar climb the steps to the platform. Her green eyes flicked to the constant moving shadows of the sniper rifles back to the studious cops skimming on the thick crowd. Her body was tense with expectation. A sickening thought of wondered crossed her brain: would she feel any pain if a sniper head shot her? She hoped that when they finally killed her, it was quick. One minute here, the next gone.
Her hand holding the pistol was moist with sweat, but freezing cold. The image of Nina, eagle-spread on the floor, her hair matted with the blood of her missing face, of Balgus sputtering at her from the table as he died, of Allen's hurtful face as she left him behind…
Of Van's arms wrapped protectively around her. The one-sided kiss she'd given him made her have a surge of yearning for him. She knew it was stupid, but her eyes scanned the crowd quickly for a familiar mess of black hair. She felt even dumber for the wave of disappointment that followed her search. Of course he wouldn't be here. He was probably still passed out in the apartment.
Now was not the time for being stupid.
She moved further to the left, green eyes going back to sliding between the waiting cops and watching snipers. Seizing an opportunity, she crouched in the pathway a large, fat man who was rudely creating a convenient pathway as he pushed himself towards the front. Dornkirk lifted a hand to wave and the crowd cheered in response. Watching him stroll to the waiting microphone, she finally pushed her way out from behind the heavy man and gently brushed by the crowd, inching closer to the stage. Her gun hand accidently hit the arm of a small older gentleman as she tried to maneuver past and she thought she heard him jump in surprise.
The cops surrounded the entire bottom of the platform in rows of two. No matter where she approached the stage, they would catch her. She had to shoot from the crowd. Heart pounding, she quickly analyzed the angle between her and Dornkirk all the while fluctuating her gaze between the cops, and the moving sniper rifles. A pulse of frustration made her false smile slip from her face. The probability of hitting Dornkirk from here was slim to none. She was fair with a gun, but it would take an expert to make a shot like that.
She had to move closer.
Every bullet counted.
It was within that second that a hard metal something poked into the middle of her spine painfully. A clammy hand grabbed her right forearm with a ferocious squeeze keeping her from lifting her pistol in retaliation. Hitomi gasped and turned her head as best as she could. The smaller old man she'd passed earlier tipped his head as if greeting her like an old friend. His thick lips curled into a delighted grin. Leaning his salt and peppered head closer to her ear, he whispered with hot smelly breath, "Hello and surprise, beautiful. We've been looking everywhere for you."
The metal barrel of his gun pressed harder and she winced in pain and horror. He gave a growling laugh. Her heart practically stopped as he audibly cocked back the hammer. The sounds of the cheering crowd washed out of her mind. She closed her eyes and lowered her head in defeat as she waited for the end. Silence engulfed her. The seconds were ticking, but they felt drawn out like minutes.
Was this really how it felt when you faced death?
Everything was slow, waiting.
The short-haired girl took one last shuddering breath.
"Say goodbye, sweetheart."
Goodbye…
"Like hell!"
Hitomi jerked in shock and she felt the man's tight fingers on her arm break away. The assassin grunted in pain and the barrel left her back. Whipping around with unsteady feet, her green eyes widened in astonishment as a familiar tan fist smashed into the old man's face with such force he flew backwards. His body collided with three other people standing too close and they all fell to the concrete in a heap. The older man groaned and tried to lift his gun from the ground. The newcomer was quick and - with a sickening crack - he kicked the assassin in the face, blood raining from his broken nose. With a fierce twitch, the old man fell backwards and laid still. A broad back and shoulders stepped in front of her. The warm wind gently tossed the tips of his black locks on the nape of his neck.
She almost dropped her pistol as tears of violent relief blurred her vision and raced down her face. The sharp shoulder blades underneath a black shirt shifted with his panting breaths. The lean muscles on his arms were flexed and tense. As he flicked his head towards her, Hitomi soaked in the image of his face. His expression was mixed with various emotions as his mahogany eyes met hers.
Anger, worry, fear, and relief…
She was hardly aware of the shrieks and cries around her as more fighting erupted around them. He reached over, breaking the dazing spell on her mind, and grabbed her shoulder with long fingers stained with blood. Through her tears, she saw his wounded arm had been newly bandaged.
"Y-You came…"
"Are you hurt?" Van's tenor voice sang into her. His hand slid up to the back of her neck and his fingers curled into her short hair. "Did they get you? Are you shot?"
She shook her head, a sob escaping her lips.
He gave an obvious sigh of relief. "We have to go. Now." With the calm swiftness she was so acquainted with, he released her and grabbed her free hand. Promptly pulling her though the panicking crowd, he led the way clumsily as more screams followed sounds of gunfire. Hitomi began to notice men and women in various shades of green uniforms storming the crowd, fighting through the uproar. Van leaped over a bleeding corpse blocking their way and held Hitomi's hand tighter as she stumbled over it.
"What's happening? Who are all these people?" She yelled at his back.
"I'll explain in a minute."
"There she is!" a woman's shriek rang out from behind their backs and Hitomi's stomach gave a sickening twist. "Get her!"
She barely registered as the black-haired man immediately pulled her forward and sheltered her protectively behind his back.
"No, Van!" She cried as he let go of her hand and he spread his arms to cover her. Hitomi gave a short scream as several guns from civilians and cops alike pointed at him.
Before anyone could react, four of the assassins fell forward, small holes drilling into their bodies. As blood instantly squirted out of the last five surrounding them, Hitomi and Van turned their heads in unison to where the slugs had come from.
"Millerna!"
The long-haired blond woman knelt low on top of an older modeled jeep that was parked haphazardly twenty feet away. Millerna shifted her weight and sprayed more bullets from the large gun in her hands, taking down a number of cops near the stage. With a blood-thirsty glint in her blue eyes, she gave a short nod in their direction, her huntress gaze hungrily drinking in the destruction.
"Let's go!" Van grabbed her hand again. Dodging invisible bullets and swinging around the violent pandemonium around them, he finally yanked her behind the large black semi-truck responsible for holding the platform equipment. Van immediately leaned heavily against the side of the vehicle; gasping for breath. Slugs slammed into the truck after them.
More shouts and screams. This was mass chaos.
His tan face was unusually pale as he let go of her hand and coughed quietly.
"Why did you…" Hitomi began, wiping her eyes with shaking fingers. She couldn't complete the question.
Rolling his head towards her still panting, he shot her a small smile. "The GIA, Hitomi. Dryden tipped them off. Apparently, he got that assassin bastard's phone and got all the information from it. I don't really get the particulars, but that's not important. He immediately called an old acquaintance of ours at the top of the GIA and gave him everything on Caesar, the races, the nuns and 'naps, the assassins - everything. The GIA code breakers are digging into the files as we speak. Secret bank accounts, scandal after scandal that has been hushed or ignored, all the secrets are opening. The hacker we have here has even tracked the radio frequency they are using right now. The GIA is shutting this game down. And it's all because of you."
A white-hot rage irrationally burned inside her belly and coursed through her veins. She glared ferociously at him and his smile vanished.
"What's wrong?"
"You IDIOT!" She screamed, pushing the white skull on his black shirt. "Why did you come, Van? You're hurt! You can barely stand! Why?!" She wanted to punch him. To kick him. To kiss him so hard that she had to bite the inside of her cheek to stop herself from doing so. "You are such an idiot! Idiot! Idiot! How can you be so reckless!?"
His mahogany eyes grew defensive. He pushed off the truck and his eyebrows crunched together. "Me, reckless!? What about you? You left me, Hitomi! What was I supposed to do? Let you die? Let you run off and get yourself killed? I just saved your life back there and you get angry at me!"
"I have every reason to be angry! You stood in front of those guns!"
His face leaned close to hers and she raised her chin to aggressively meet his anger. "I could say the same to you! You had no idea what you were getting yourself into!"
"I knew exactly what I was-"
"No, you didn't! You were walking into Dornkirk's waiting assassins!"
"I knew that he was waiting for me! I knew it already! I saw the sniper rifles! I saw the cops!"
Van lifted a hand as if he was going to grab her shoulder, but ran it through his hair instead. "Then why the hell would you go? It's suicide!"
"One bullet, Van! That's what Balgus said! It would take just one bullet to stop this entire-"
"Sacrificing yourself is what Balgus would have wanted? To see you throw your life away like this? Would he be proud to see you die!?"
"He was willing to-"
"We are talking about you! Not him! This is your life, Hitomi! Balgus is dead! But you are still alive!"
"I know he's dead! He died for the cause and-"
"And that makes dying for it your destiny as well? Just because he got killed suddenly you are doomed to the same fate?"
"This was never about fate. This is about doing what is right. You don't understand-"
"I understand a lot of things, but your self-sacrificing attitude is getting out of hand!"
Her nose almost touched his as she snarled, "Stop interrupting me!"
"Not until you stop being so altruistic all the damn time!"
"Altruistic!? You're saying that like it's a bad thing!"
"Yes! In this case, it is a terribly bad thing! You have biggest martyr complex of anyone I've ever met! You have to die for this! You have to die for that! Let's just thrust yourself into the big middle of it all and hope for the best! God, Hitomi, you are so screwed up!"
"I have served more than five years of my life for this fight! Every time I competed in those races I could have died! So, yeah, maybe you're right, Van. Maybe I have a complex when it comes to life and death, but at least I know what is worth dying for! I would willingly give it up if I saw the chance to actually take Caesar out! I knew the risk, so I left you out of it!"
A flash of pain shot across his face. "And another thing: how could you do that?! Disappear! No questions answered, no 'goodbye, Van, I'm off to die'! You left me in there! To wake up and realize you were gone! That the next time I'd probably see you is in a coffin! I can't handle that, Hitomi! Not again! Not EVER!"
"I said goodbye to you!" Hitomi felt her cheeks grow hotter as a vision of her kissing his sleeping lips rushed past her mind and her green eyes unwillingly flicked to his frowning mouth. "But really, what was I supposed to do? You were bleeding from a gunshot hole in your arm and you'd passed out because of it!"
"I'm fine!"
"Oh, yeah, sure! You are at top peak condition right now, aren't you!?" She hollered and pushed roughly on his chest. His back hit against the large vehicle behind him and he groaned in pain. "I left you in the apartment so you'd live, Van!"
"How could I live with myself if you died on me?!"
Hitomi choked on her rebuttal and the anger in Van's eyes drained away. A faint blush popped on his cheeks, but he kept her eyes in his. She felt some of her fight fall short as her heart began racing unnaturally, pulsing through her body like wild-fire. They both were panting, staring at each other, studying every inch and expression.
"So, what are you saying, then?" She willed herself to say the words and they emerged trembling and reluctant. "Would I just be another guilty weight on your conscience like those you lost in your squad? Would I be a sad regret to reflect on every now and then like your brother? Or would you be losing something more than that?"
"I… I don't know what you're talking about?" He answered hesitantly.
Hitomi groaned in frustration. "I guess I have to explain it perfectly clear for you to get it! Do I mean more to you? More than normal?"
He opened his mouth, but no words came out. His hot gaze danced over her lips.
"Well, what is it?" She demanded. He audibly swallowed and something behind her head caught his eye.
"Van, thank God I found you," a green uniformed man with long, graying, curly hair was waltzing towards them. His brown eyes twitched between the two of them with an odd glint and she knew this stranger had probably heard the entire fight. He stopped by her side and regarded her with a blank – virtually bored - gaze. "This the girl?"
"Yeah," the black-haired man grunted still leaning against the truck. "Hitomi, this is Meiden Fassa. He's the Head of the Special Division Force in the GIA. Sir, this is the girl I was telling you about on the way up here."
Meiden inclined his head in greeting. "Keeping my boy love-drunk off his ass, are you?"
Van let out a sharp cough.
"I-I-I…" The short-haired girl stammered with a quick blush. "Nice to meet you…"
The man's lined face stayed neutral, but his voice gained a bitter tone. "Van, I came looking for you because I need your assistance. We lost visual on the Mayor several minutes ago. The squads assigned to take him out got occupied with an unexpected number of civilian assassins. He was last seen fleeing down the back sidewalk towards the Zaibach Building several blocks away down Racer Drive. Since that was the location were the assassins came from, there's a good chance he's hiding out there now and trying to find a way to escape. My on-site hacker is still attempting to fully connect into the frequency transmitting from there. Even without the radio, this was your specialty back in the day. I want you to track him and find his ass. I'll send backup as soon as I can scrounge more men from the fighting."
"I'll do it!" Hitomi announced, stepping forward and lifting her chin with determination. The forgotten gun in her right hand suddenly felt heavy in her fingers.
"He's got four of those mindless body guards with him."
"He has 'naps with him?" Hitomi's heart rose to her throat.
"It's too dangerous for a common civilian." Meiden said sharply with a slight raise of his eyebrows. "I don't know your background training, ma'am, but Van graduated top of his class in the SDF."
"Van is in no shape to go, Mr. Fassa. I'll take Dornkirk out."
"No, I'll go." Van shook his head and straightened up once more. "You stay here."
"I'm not staying!"
"Yes, you are!"
"I'm going!"
"No way in hell!"
"You can't make me stay!" Hitomi shouted childishly and took a step forward. Within milliseconds, they were back in each other's faces.
"Oh, yes I can!"
"Should I just go myself?" The Head officer offered with a growing smirk.
Van growled and turned to Meiden. "Sir, I beg you to keep her here and don't let her out of your sight!"
"You can't do that, Van! You can't!"
"Sir, please!"
"I'm going! He can't stop me! Don't tell me what to do!"
"Shut-up, Hitomi!" Van roared at her and the next thing she knew his lips crushed themselves against hers. Her breath caught roughly and her eyes were wide. His face shifted to the left and he boldly opened her mouth with his tongue. She was frozen, completely still. Her mind blanked allowing him take hold of her. He lifted his hands, his right burying itself into her hair and the other on the small of her back, pushing her roughly against his body.
It was then that she closed her eyes. She unthinkingly dropped her pistol on the ground and her arms sprang up to wrap themselves around his tan neck. She returned his kiss with all the passion, anger, and love she felt for him. His kiss was exciting, thrilling, frustratingly exhilarating. She had longed for him to kiss her. For him to feel the same way she did. He pressed her even further and she came willingly, standing on her toes and leaning into him. Everything was so simple and yet so messed up. The world was falling apart around them. And still, she twisted her tongue around his, indulging in the very essence of her hero…
Van…
She moved her arms off his neck and pushed lightly on his shoulders to break the kiss. His mahogany eyes opened and were scorching like molten lava. They branded into her. Body and soul. Those hot eyes flicked back to her lips and she both saw and felt the intense longing in him.
"You can't…" Hitomi couldn't seem to catch her breath properly. "You can't leave me…"
"Hitomi… I have to go…" His voice was husky, his eyes still on her parted lips.
"Please… don't leave me behind…"
His arms slid from her body. Her skin prickled with a chilling fear. Tears raced to her green eyes as Meiden stepped up beside her and put his hand on her small shoulder. The long-haired man reached back with his free hand and plucked something out of his pocket. "Take this," he said holding out an intricate folding dagger. "Got it off the bloke you pegged earlier. It might come in handy, son."
Taking the sharp knife, Van stepped away and swallowed.
"Thank you, sir," he said to Meiden, but his fiery gaze switched immediately on her, burning and freezing her at the same time.
The first of her sobs hit her as he disappeared around the truck.
Millerna slid off the roof of her bullet riddled jeep and her expecting husband immediately caught her in his arms. Her blue eyes widened and she grinned into his shining brown as his hands gave her butt a small squeeze before setting her on her feet.
"Out of ammo." She tossed the gun into his hands and his expert fingers popped the massive chamber open to reload. She picked up the M-16 rifle waiting beside him and said, "The snipers are down. Looks like most of the cops have been subdued. It's the civilian assassins that are giving the most trouble. How many rounds?"
"Got four more ready with the long-shot. We have six left in all. Go easy on it."
"Van has his girl."
"Good."
"Heard anything from your dad yet?"
"Got the phone ready and waiting. He'll call to update soon."
Bracing the rifle under her arm, she reached out with her free hand and grabbed a fistful of her husband's shirt and pressed her lips tightly to his. Releasing him after a few seconds, she leapt like a lioness back on the jeep. Dryden stood still for a moment, just blinking.
"Damn it, woman…"
Van raced down the street, dodging the numerous fights and jumping over still bodies. Austuria had become a warzone. Pressing himself close to the wall for protection, he quickly slipped around upturned chairs, tables, and around the large debris that once served as a stage for Dornkirk's speech. His brain concentrated on his destination, but his thoughts whirled in the afterglow of her kiss.
He didn't know why he kissed her. It was almost as if he had to just to make her stop hollering at him. She was insane! She was a brat! She had to be saved practically twenty-four/seven from her own personal vendettas. She was irresistibly intoxicating and incredibly frustrating and totally out of control half the time! And he was just as insane for feeling this way. This was dangerous. He needed to have a clear head, cool mind, calculate the danger that he faced. But… he couldn't get his heart to stop pulsing fiercely in his chest. He couldn't control his unstable urge to turn around, abandon everything, and kiss her once more. He was full of fury, full of passion… full of Hitomi.
A small part of his brain – one that had somehow detached itself from the naturally guiding him through the current mission and the dazzling energetic aura kissing Hitomi had given him – focused on the image of her face just before he left.
He was being a hypocrite. He was doing exactly what she had done to him in the apartment.
Except he'd kissed her before he'd left.
Who was he to judge when he'd left her like that? Swollen lips and pure sorrow in her glittering green eyes? He'd called her altruistic as an insult. But in reality, who was the actual martyr in this present situation? And really, thinking back on their last twenty-four hours together, who was the one continually wanting to push her aside? Make her wait for him to return from danger? Keeping her protected behind his back? Hell, he was just as guilty – if not more so – for being altruistic to a fault.
They were too similar.
Both of them were idiots.
A small smile glazed on his lips as he passed another block and swiftly changed direction to avoid a speeding cop car. Would she wait for him to return or would she find a way to get away from Meiden and follow him? If it was the latter, Van found he wouldn't be surprised.
After several more blocks, his breath was beginning to catch up to him. He'd ate a small energy bar in the truck as one of Meiden's men patched up his arm, but that still wasn't enough energy for him to have full strength. His arm was wrapped again, but it was still painful. He was a bit dizzy, but the energy bar was keeping him steady. The GIA didn't use those bars for nothing.
Crossing the street, his mahogany eyes grazed forward as the tall reflective building rose to meet him. Standing large and selfishly proud on the sidewalk, Zaibach was considered one of the largest exporting companies in the nation. Briefly, Van wondered how many other more 'personal' exports Zaibach had done these past decades. The code breakers and hackers were probably discovering it right now. Cautiously approaching, he reached back and pulled up his gun.
Four 'naps plus Caesar…
Swallowing, Van's heart picked up a pace or two as he slipped into the shadow of the building and raised his gun to eye-level. Combing the alleyway, he let go of a held breath and continued around the side. The massive structure was at least one-fourth of a mile long wide. It stretched around into a personal park laying behind the building. Keeping his mind clear despite his racing heart, his mahogany eyes darted to the front of the alleyway and back. He quickened his pace. It would be bad to be caught here with absolutely no shelter. He cleared the alleyway with a sigh of relief and jogged to the tall fence dividing the park from the backside of Zaibach. Van hissed as a small spoke on top of the fence stabbed his bandaged arm while he climbed over it.
"Damn it…" he cursed under his breath, wincing and blinking back the blooming pain as blood began to seep through the fresh bandage.
Dropping from the fence, he raised his gun and found his hands already shaking. His brain pulsed with the waves of sharp pain that throbbed from his forearm. The white gauze spread more and more red with each passing thump of his heart. Hearing the door open, he dashed across the decorative garden and dive-rolled behind a large rosebush just as a 'nap dressed in APD gear walked out into the patio twenty feet away. The man turned to the face the alleyway, his blank eyes scanning the area Van had just been not a few seconds ago. He had a finger to his ear and was saying something quietly into a headset.
A radio transmitter.
Excellent.
Stepping out, the black-haired man closed in like a shadow. The mindless man hardly had time to react before he was down with Van's shoe imprinted on his face. He checked the man's pulse underneath the leather collar buckled around his neck as he unburdened the 'nap of his transmitter. The heart beat was steady and slow.
Van felt a jolt of nostalgia hit him and he couldn't help smiling to himself as he attached the radio to his own head. Hitomi would have hated him for kicking a 'nap, but desperate times called for desperate action.
A woman's emotionless voice spoke into his ear:
"…on the bottom floor and watch for intruder coming through around back. Master wants Pawn 376 on the second floor to watch front streets and Pawn 209 on the seventh to scan the surveillance camera. All elevators have been cut. Master will be with Pawn 13 on the twenty-ninth floor awaiting the helicopter. Pawn 13 has been commanded to leave with Master when the helicopter. Pawns will stay on radio frequency and contact Pawn 13 if there is any sign of intruder. Master commands Pawn 13 to inform Pawn 376 and Pawn 209 and Pawn 244 to stand ground until Master gives word."
Blank male voices answered her in unison. "Pawn understood and obey."
Closing his eyes for a brief moment, Van struggled to allow his instincts to take control. Hurrying silently to the doorway, he quietly slipped into the silent building and scanned the large exquisitely decorated lobby for any sign of movement down the barrel of his upraised gun. After a waiting a half-minute, he crossed the clean marble floors to the stairwell doorway. Opening the door, he entered into a surprisingly atmospheric flight of stairs. Red carpet, soft lighting, and even mild piano music wafted a calming ambience. Clenching his gun to his chest, he climbed the stairs, passing the second floor and within only a minute, the seventh. No sign of a 'nap.
Keeping his breath slow and even, the stars were beginning to wink over his vision. Shaking his head, he blinked down at his arm and grimaced. His arm looked awful. How much more blood did he have left in his system?
"Male intruder has appeared in the stairwell. Intruder is alone. Permission to seek out and kill." The male voice whispered in his ear from the radio. Van's heart hammered painfully in his chest and he lifted his gun immediately, making himself dizzy as he swung it first up the stairs then down the stairs.
"Master says stand your ground and continue surveillance."
A wash of confusion and relief hit him. Why… why would they let him continue? They knew he was coming for Dornkirk. This didn't make any sense. A slow thumping noise made the black-haired man twitch and point his gun to near his feet. A darker liquid was slowly hitting the red carpet floor by his side.
His blood.
Oh, shit.
By the twenty-fifth floor, Van was bracing himself on the wall; the black in his eyes dangerously close to overcoming his mind. His instincts urging him forward one more step, one more flight, but his body was giving out. He's lost too much blood. He didn't have any strength left to keep his control up. They probably let him continue because they knew he couldn't. The thought of weakness, of not being able to fulfill his promise, of failure couldn't spur him to keep going.
He was too weak. Caesar would escape. The other two pawns would find him in the stairwell and probably shoot him as he lie unconscious. He tried to focus on his mission, but he it felt as if that part of his brain was shutting down. He was losing control of his body. His limbs trembled so violently, he worried his twitching finger would pull the trigger accidentally.
Closing his eyes and panting heavily, another part of his brain slowly seem to awaken within him as the other one slowly failed. He felt a strange, frustrated and irrational anger pulse through his chest. Green eyes pierced the darkness and Van's body warmed as he reveled in his fierce resolve.
Forget calm and methodical thinking. Forget order. Forget his training.
It's time to do things a different way.
Stumbling past the twenty-eighth floor, he knew he was using pure will; at the forefront of his entire consciousness was the vision of green eyes brimming with tears. His fingers mechanically curled into his palms as he reveled in the way she'd felt under his hands. Her soft hair spreading through his fingers. Her body pushing into his as if she was just as hungry for more of him as he was of her. Her arms trapping his lips on hers as she wrapped them tightly behind his neck. Energy coursed through each of his fatigued limbs as both ice and fire tumbled together inside him. His eyes cleared a bit more, his panting slowed a bit less, and Van took the last flight with more drive than he'd ever thought possible. He was both surprised and motivated by his new-found strength. He had a power inside him he'd never tried tapping into before.
An unstoppable, raging fire. The rage of a warrior.
And at last…
The twenty-ninth floor.
Dornkirk swallowed down the bitterness that had settled in his thin chest and lifted a wrinkled hand to stroke his white beard. He stood quietly, a small whistle in his nose the only indicator the man was even breathing. Dust covered his new pin-striped suit and a few drops of blood sprinkled his shinned black leather shoes. His eyes glazed from the huge window to the billowing smoke rising several blocks away. Twisting the glossy hairs from his chin gently against his knuckles, a small irritated sigh released from his parted lips. Those GIA bastards… damn them all to hell… He wasn't defeated yet.
Not while there was still air in his lungs.
Pawn 13 stood statuesque behind him, watching the stairwell doorway with her SMG raised and frozen in place. Waiting.
The bitterness grew into a boiling fury and he lowered his hand from his beard and to his side.
"This is just tragic," he murmured with a small voice of calm regret. A small humorless laugh escaped him. "And all to take out your 'pawn', 'Rodger Mackmore'. My plans were perfect, but of course, even in death, you still are a thorn in my side. I thought I'd only have to handle her, but she brought the damn GIA out on me." He let out another laugh. "Backstabbed, betrayed by one I'd once called brother, yes, yes, Caesar was always a fitting name for myself. You couldn't let me have my empire, could you? Just like Brutus, you are full of deception. You are my Brutus, Balgus. It seems as though you were destined to be so. You thought once you showed up as the illustrious 'Rodger Mackmore' I'd let you in to my plans. You tried to trick me, pretend to love me and worship me like the other Masters, but I knew it was only so you'd finally finish me. Put the bullet in my head that was meant to be there years ago. We've both changed drastically as the years passed, but I'd recognize your smug face anywhere. I was like vapor to you though. You didn't know who I was. I was always right here, but you never really looked. I regret you never truly saw me in the throne of Caesar, old friend. The new name "Dornkirk" kept me from your watchful eye, but I regret you never knew. That you have never seen me at the peak of my greatness. Even back then when we were young boys you never knew the real me, Balgus. Your little Isaac – the one who no one watched, the one who no one expected anything from, the one you always had to shamefully protect – has gotten the last laugh."
The old man didn't laugh. Instead, his eyes grew dim.
"I have never wanted to admit it, but I made a mistake. I should have taken both you and the girl out long ago. Even before the games had started. I knew you'd come for me eventually." His white eyebrows rose as if a question was asked. "Why didn't I? Because there was something so satisfying thinking you could hide from me. Thinking you were being so secretive. You have no idea, Balgus. I knew from the moment I first saw her in the arena that she was yours. She was so lethal, so vibrant, and so destructive. She was a force. I knew she was the one from that time. I followed your footsteps while you thought you were winning the games. And there you were, 'Rodger Mackmore'." His raised eyebrows hitched together. "There was a time when you understood me and I understood you. The years when we were full of ambitions. We both had the same dreams. The same hopes. The same determinations for a world where we stood on top. And then you met that little bitch." The thin skin of his hands popped out blue veins as he clenched his fists.
"She is the reason you betrayed me, my old friend! She is the reason you are dead! You could be here, standing beside me, on top of the world! But you are now nothing more than memories! Foolish and dead… It was that day, the day long ago in Fanelia where we saw the true power of the secrets we were selling across the Wayward Sea… Fanelia completely obliterated by the raiders. I knew the possibilities then! I knew the power I could gain from a world like this! A world ran by my hand! By the things I could do, the secrets that would destroy and rebuild, the people who would live and die by my rules! It was endless! You only saw her. The small little girl crying into her rags beside us. She'd run away, left her parents, came to the top of the summit just to see everything destroy right before her eyes. And then the old witch with her appeared screaming and raging. She hit you and hit you and you just took it as if you were ashamed of what just happened! You cried for them. And worst of all, you took them with you. I watched in disgust as my best friend suddenly transformed from my most trusted companion to my worst enemy. I should have gunned her down right then. Blown them both to hell with the rest of Fanelia. But like the fool I was, I thought nothing of it. I thought you'd come back to me. And now this. It has all led to this."
"Master, there is an intruder on the stairwell. Pawn 209 is requesting permission to kill."
Dornkirk uncurled his fists. Staring out at the sea of smoke and flashing red and blue lights of his bright city, he turned his head, letting his snowy white beard cascade over his shoulder.
"Let whoever it is come to me. I'm sure it's someone I have a score to settle with."
Van approached the door and placed a hand on the doorknob. His mind attempted to keep the balanced control of his instincts, but his fingers immediately began to quiver violently over the handle. Shaking his head against the fuzz, he backed away, lifted a foot, and used his strength to kick the door in.
He ducked back into the hallway and let one bullet escaped his gun just as thundering pop, pop, pop, pop, pop's from a semi-automatic ripped into the doorway. He waited for the piercing gunshots to end. He tried to calculate the exact location of the slugs, but another wave of nausea hit his eyes. The warrior in him made him clenching his teeth, lean his hand out, fire a wild shot. He heard a small squeal of a woman's voice and the loud sound of a large metallic thing falling to the carpet. Panting, Van wondered if he should look. Glancing around the doorway, he was surprised to see the woman standing right there. She fell forward and lay still with her head sticking out a bit in the hallway. Her long hair pooled on the red carpet as her blood began seeping out of her body.
BOOOM!
A surging heat blasted him from his feet, slammed him into the back wall, and he crashed into the floor; a tumbling heap. The world rocked. He couldn't breathe. A loud ringing sang shrilly in his head. He swam in a sea of swirling blackness.
A hand grenade? A bomb? What the hell was that? In his throbbing brain a memory surfaced: Hitomi in her pajama shorts holding her fake leather collar in his truck. The melodious voice of the news anchor woman from Dryden's television at the bar whispered, "The dead had their heads blown off from the mysterious contraption strapped to the victim's neck."
He'd killed the woman. The bomb on her neck went off.
Opening his swimming mahogany eyes, Van wondered if he could still walk. The other two 'naps probably heard the explosion and were on their way for him. He had to get Dornkirk. He had to sure that even if he couldn't keep his promise at returning to her, he'd at least done his job.
With a snarling groan, he shifted his aching arms and all his muscles vibrated weakly as he pushed himself up.
"Who the hell are you?" The voice of an old man rang out from above his head. Van feebly lifted his fogging eyes to see the swirling form of Dornkirk standing in front of him, his white beard swaying and the pistol Van had dropped in his wrinkled hand, the short barrel pointed right at Van's head. "You're not the bitch."
"Don't…" Van murmured, attempting to get up once more. "Don't…"
"You're just an insolent pup. You have no business even being here. I thought the bitch would come after me."
"Don't… c-c…"
"Don't? That is your last words, soldier?"
"Don't… call her… bitch…" His anger flared. Swinging his arm around, the black-haired man grabbed the folding dagger Meiden had given him and flicked it open with one swift movement. He roared as he stashed forward, blindingly. The sharp blade dug thickly into the thin skin of the old man's lower legs and stuck deep in the small muscle of his right calf. Dornkirk crashed to the floor and dropped the gun, howling in agony. Pulling himself forward by his arms, Van reached desperately for the gun that had fallen several inches away.
"You bastard!" Dornkirk roared, blood pouring down his legs. His wizened hands yanked on the dagger to no avail. "I'll kill you!" The old man stretched further than Van, seizing the pistol in his crumpled, bloody, trembling fingers. The gun swung to point at his face once more.
This was it.
This was the last thing he would see.
The part of Van, the fierce warrior part of him that had spurred him on, fell away.
He knew true death when he saw it. Even his own dazed, pain-ridden, damaged brain recognized it.
At least I finally kissed her… he thought randomly. And she kissed me back… It sucks, but I think I can die with that. There was a lot more I wanted to do with her. A whole lot more I wanted to tell her. But I saved her. She lives because I came for her last night. Because I protected her every way I could. And she'll keep on living because of it. That's enough for me.
Van closed his eyes and waited.
Goodbye, Hitomi…
A loud BANG echoed down the hallway.
And he breathed in…
And he breathed out…
Everything fell silent around him, except for the ringing in his ears. A soft gasp from a beloved voice resounded from somewhere behind him and he both heard and felt soft pounding of footsteps treading up steps. Suddenly, cold hands were on his shoulders, touching his face, his back, his torso.
He knew these hands…
"H-H…"
Small arms wrapped themselves around him and turned him gently on his back. He opened his glazed eyes to meet with the most gorgeous green he'd ever seen in his life.
"H-Hit…"
"Shhhh," she quieted him, obviously holding back her tears. She put a hand on his chest and the chill went through the fabric of his shirt. He rejoiced in the burning-cold tingles that ran through him. Despite being on the edge of unconsciousness, Van was very aware of her. How she ran her cold hands around his body, checking on his various wounds. How the small blue shirt she wore rose even higher on her stomach from her panting breaths. Even how her knee was touching the upper part of his thigh ever so slightly.
"Dorn…" He tried to ask.
"I shot him, Van. He's dead. It's over."
With a violently shaking hand, he reached up and touched her soft face. "Y-You saved me…"
"About time I returned the favor, huh?" She smiled and a tear slipped out of her lovely eyes. He tried to wipe it away with his thumb, but he lost the strength and his hand flopped to his heaving chest. "I heard the explosion… Thank God you are alive, Van. I was so afraid I was too late."
"…Right on t-time…"
She let out a laugh through her watering eyes. She glanced at the debris around her and back into his face. "Well, I probably could have come a little earlier..."
He gazed lazily into her face, marveling at the changes in her expressions. The beautiful vitality of her. God, she was something else.
"H-How…?"
"Let's just say, I convinced Meiden to let me go. He gave me a better gun and some directions. I ran into Dryden and Millerna on the way. They came with me and are taking care of the 'naps on the second and seventh floor. Meiden is tracking where the helicopter is coming from. It's just like you said. It's… finally over. All the secrets are opening."
"How d-did you know…"
"Meiden told us everything that was said in the radio frequency from Dryden's phone. That hacker tapped the frequency line." Her shinning eyes gazed over the scars and burns on his body. Her cold hands touched his forehead and the shock of it helped to anchor his swirling vision. "You are so hurt."
"I'll l-live…" Van groaned out. "I have… I have to… I have to…"
"What?" She questioned with a quiet voice. "You have to what?"
"Come… closer…" He murmured. Her green eyes flashed curiosity as she pulled her face closer to his. The fierce fiery warrior in Van surfaced just enough to help him pull her head down and press her lips to his. She let out a small, surprised cry, but the shock was very short-lived. His head felt like it was drowning with extreme fatigue, pain, and the intense pleasure kissing her brought him.
This was living.
This was the purpose he'd be missing all those lonely years of his life.
Dryden was right. She was stubborn, argumentative, ungrateful, and never listened to him. She was bossy, irrational, and irresistibly beautiful. This was what he had been waiting for. A woman who could bring out something in him he hadn't even known existed. A fire that burned so brightly, he knew he could do anything. Be anything. If he had her by his side, he felt as though he could move the very mountains themselves.
Van let out a grunt of pain between their lips as her hand hit a tender bruise on his arm and Hitomi backed away with a worried face. She opened her mouth to speak, but he immediately pulled her back in for another kiss.
Maybe he'd try mountain moving after he was healed…
00000000The End0000000
As always, I hate mistakes. I miss them a lot because I type too fast and then I'm too lazy to properly edit. If you spy any of those little devils that evaded me, please point them out and I will fix it pronto.
I have been discussing with Nainari about a possible epilogue for this story. If you want it, just let me know. I'll give you something sweet. :)
Thanks for reading and if you enjoyed it, please let me know.
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