Thanks for the reviews! I know it's only been a few days since I updated, but I'm on a roll! Yay for Allen and Kanda, in the same country, IN THE SAME CITY, no less!
CrimsonKitsune333- Well, since you asked so nicely, here's a review, just for you!
xxSnowxxAngelxx- Gotta love little Joe!
darklink231- Well, really who would Joe tell? And I have... uh, nothing planned for Joe beyond chapter 12... Hmm... I'll try not to off him just becasue I can...
Kayday- I'm glad that the fic made you feel better! And yay, you think Joe's cute!
AnimeFreak4261- Well heree you are, one update as asked for!
Tarshil- Lol, I'll reply to your last review here, and sometime within the next couple of hours I'll go through all the previous ones! Sorry I haven't replied before now, but I've been up to my eyeballs in life! Thanks for the reviews anyway! Thanks for offering to beta, and were I anyone other than the prideful, egotistical person that I am I would take you up on that offer!
Allen dusted off his hands, looking around as he did so. He had to admit, the view from up here was rather spectacular. He swung easily from his perch atop the Eiffel Tower, wrapping his legs over a thick steel girder and looping an arm around a vertical support to better enjoy it.
The summer breeze, cooler now that it was night lifted his hair momentarily and he tipped his head back to enjoy it more. Glancing at the sky though, he realised it was getting late and if he wanted to cheat someone out of their money tonight he'd have to get a move on.
With one last glance at the cube glowing faintly above him, he swung himself down on the girders and began his descent.
He was rather glad that he had stumbled across Joe when he did. Though the boy did have some odd habits, like never changing in front of Allen for one, was a remarkable asset to his survival, and in the few short days since he had invited the young teen to live with him, Allen had felt better than he had since he left the Order. He wasn't quite sure how Joe did it, but somehow there was always food hidden away in their room that the boy had 'picked up' from somewhere or other.
The benefit of this, other than the fact that nobody had to listen to Allen's stomach complaining, was that he could invocate with ease. Though nowhere near at the level that he was before this whole thing started, at least it didn't hurt anymore, and destroying the small swarm of Akuma that had been attempting to steal the innocence had been a walk in the park. He'd almost enjoyed it.
He used his Clown Belt to swing down the rest of the way, moving quickly so that the stark white did not stand out for any length of time and attract unwanted attention.
When Allen landed soundlessly between the massive feet of the steel structure, he deactivated his innocence and stuffed his hands into his pockets, whistling softly and vanishing into the night.
0o0o0o0o0
For once Allen was worried. He hadn't been concentrating on the game at hand; his mind was far away with the innocence cube currently sitting atop the Eiffel Tower. At least, he assumed it was still there- he'd been stuck in this dingy, smoke-clouded bar for several hours, so for all he knew the innocence could have been collected already, whether by exorcist or Akuma was anyone's guess.
He squinted through the smoke that hovered above the table at his opponents. For men clinging to sobriety by the tips of their grubby fingers, they were playing rather well.
Allen suspected he was not the only one guilty of cheating. Either that, or the water sitting at his elbow wasn't water at all, but he was more inclined to believe the former- he hoped he could trust Luc, the barman, more than that, since Allen's presence in his pub drew in more customers than he would usually get in a week.
Once word of the mysterious unbeaten poker player's whereabouts had got out, people would start arriving, hoping to witness the master at work, or perhaps to be the one to break the winning streak.
One of then men across the table grinned and fanned his cards impressively. Allen rolled his eyes, not fooled in the slightest. The technique of distracting ones opponent was far older than he was, and the very first method for substituting cards that he had learned.
"Now, now, that's not very gentlemanly" he admonished, watching the two men start in surprise. He grinned to himself, demonstrating the correct way to slip his own cards into his hand. Neither man opposite noticed a thing.
At his side Joe made a small movement as though he itched to make a comment but held himself back just in time.
'Much better' he commented to himself, surveying the cards arrayed in front of him. He offered the two men across the table a pleasantly bland smiling face, though inside his grin was wide and he was mentally celebrating. "All in."
The men glanced at each other, then at their own separate hands, before turning to someone in the crowd as though seeking permission. They must have received it, because their coins were shoved roughly into the centre of the table.
"Call" the one on the left grunted. His partner laid down his hand with a grimace, revealing nothing but a pair of sixes. Allen wondered vaguely if the men had been cheating at all.
He laid down his own cards with a carefully crafted blank face, trying hard not to react at all to the stunned silence that fell over the bar as he laid down his royal straight flush. He didn't even have to say anything- everyone present knew who had won. His remaining opponent threw down his cards bitterly. His hand was better than his partners but he hadn't managed to cheat his way to Allen's level.
Allen gathered his winnings, still with his blank face. He knew (from experience) that if he celebrated too early things could turn ugly. The two men turned from the table and were immediately accosted by another group of men who had been flanking the one from whom they had sought permission earlier. The man himself was making his way over to Allen. Joe had vanished into the crowd with the winnings, probably on his way home to put the money somewhere safe.
"Good game" he congratulated, placing a jovial hand on Allen's shoulder. The man may have looked friendly enough, but Allen didn't trust him as far as he could spit. And there was something lurking behind his expression which made Allen think that the man was displeased about something.
"Thank you" Allen said, attempting to free himself from the man's grip, which had suddenly tightened.
"You're very good" the man added. "I'm Jean-Francois" he said, offering the hand that wasn't still holding Allen's shoulder.
Allen raised an eyebrow, allowing himself a small smirk. "I'm good at the game" he allowed, "William" he added, taking the man's hand and standing up a little straighter as all his senses warned him of danger.
The man's light-hearted manner dropped in a second, and it felt like the very air had turned cold. "You're good at cheating; I could use someone with your talents. Now I won't make a bit deal out of it if you return the money."
Allen cocked his head to one side. "I don't know what you're talking about" he said, shrugging off the man's hand and taking a step back.
"You won't get away that easily, boy!"
Allen took another step backwards and saw his chance. With one foot he lashed out suddenly at a table, knocking it over and spilling beer all over the occupants. In the melee that followed, he managed to slip out of the door and into the night.
0o0o0o0o0o0
Kanda was bored. He'd already located the innocence that had been resting, for whatever bizarre reason, on the very top of the Eiffel Tower, but strangely had not come across any Akuma.
By all rights he should be going back to the Order, innocence in hand, but Allen was supposed to be somewhere in this city, and he'd be damned if he came this close to checking on the Beansprout and failed to do so. He told himself it was because he needed to find out whether it was Allen destroying the Akuma or if they had a bigger problem on their hands.
If he repeated it enough, he might actually start to believe it himself. He scowled, the parting words from Lavi coming back to haunt him. "Stupid fucking rabbit."
After some deliberation, he had decided to start with the roughest area of the city that he could find. After all, there would be plenty of people for Allen to swindle out of their money.
He had been wandering around this maze for a couple of hours, refusing to admit he was lost (since that was Allen's department, not his) when he heard some shouting coming from up ahead.
Three frightened looking men scurried past him, one clutching an arm to his chest and another sporting a very broken nose. They were muttering under their breath, and Kanda couldn't be sure, but he thought he caught the word 'demon' in there, a word that exorcists were taught to recognise in several languages if they understood nothing else.
Interest piqued, he hurried towards the shouting.
The voice sounded desperate, calling out a name and what sounded like pleas. He quickened his steps as he rounded the last corner and fell upon the scene which was not at all what he was expecting.
The child, the one that was calling, was kneeling beside a blood soaked figure, hands urgently trying to staunch the flow coming from somewhere on the taller- boy's?- back. The figure had long hair, so he couldn't be sure, but Kanda was the last person eligible to make assumptions on the person's gender based on hair length. Besides, he was pretty sure that the name the shorter one had been calling was a male one. He'd go with male- if the figure was female, she must have been upset at her lack of… womanly attributes.
There was another man sanding nearby, his back to Kanda, cleaning off a knife calmly as he lounged against the wall, having not appeared to have noticed the new arrival.
Already in a bad mood, Kanda drew his blade in a single swift motion and laid it firmly on the knifeman's neck.
"Che" he growled, pressing the metal harder into the man's jowly neck. "As if human's don't have enough trouble without killing each other too."
He heard a noise of pain coming from the bleeding figure, the tone and pitch confirming his guess on the gender, before allowing the man to turn and face him. He leaned closer, tapping his uniform with a free finger. "See this? I'm an exorcist" he said, his voice a low growling whisper and he watched in satisfaction as the man, whether he understood the words or not, recognised the Rose Cross and realized the implications of the uniform before him and the sword at his neck. "This means I can kill you without people asking too many annoying questions" Kanda continued to press his point home. Metaphorically of course. While the world might not miss scum like this, there would definitely be some kind of repercussion if he decided to just randomly off some human. "If I were you, I'd get the fuck out of here before I make good with that threat" Kanda suggested, jerking his head to emphasise his meaning.
The man didn't need telling twice- he ran before Kanda had even fully removed his sword from his neck.
"Che" Kanda scoffed, sheathing Mugen, turning when a rapid burble of French caught his attention.
"Please! Help me! He's dying!"
0o0o0o0o0
Allen crashed into a wall, bouncing off it and continuing to run- he could still hear the pounding of feet behind him and knew that if he stopped the men would be all over him. It would just be his luck that he would run out of it right now- he thought that he'd lost them at the bar, but apparently these men weren't as stupid as they first appeared.
He was far enough ahead now- if he could just get home they'd never find him. He spared a thought for Joe, hoping he'd got back safely. He could take whatever these idiots could dish out, though he'd rather not, but the thought of the younger boy receiving such a beating… All thoughts skidded to a halt when he realised that his appalling sense of direction had once again resulted in him being lost- and trapped down a dead-end alley.
The footsteps were gaining now.
Allen slapped his hand against the wall in frustration. He was going to have to fight his way out- hopefully the gang had split up among the many twists and turns that he taken them down and he wouldn't be forced to take on all of them at once.
Luck wasn't on his side- or maybe it was- as four of the nine men came round the corner, grinning wickedly and cracking their knuckles in a way that made their intentions perfectly clear.
"So here you are, little William" the man at the head of the procession said as he stepped out of the darkness, his smile dripping malice. Allen immediately recognised the ring leader of the little group.
Allen backed up to a wall so they couldn't surround him. "Yeah, here I am. Why? You idiots got something for me?" He grinned in a cocky manner, all politeness vanishing as he dropped back into the long forgotten language of the streets with ease.
"I think you've got that the wrong way round" Jean-Francois snarled. "I want the money you cheated me out of you little brat."
"I don't have any idea what you're talking about" Allen said, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the wall nonchalantly.
One of the other men growled and attempted to take a step forward, only to be stopped by the hand of the leader. "Wait" he murmured before turning back to Allen. "I like you kid, in a few more years you could be ruling these streets" and he gestured at the squalor around him. "But nobody likes a cheater, so I think that you need a lesson. Hopefully once it's over you'll not need another. Like I say, I like you. When you've recovered, come see me."
The irony of that statement astounded Allen. Wasn't it Jean-Francois' men who attempted to out-cheat him in the first place? He raised his eyebrows. 'When you've recovered?' Just what exactly were these idiots planning on doing to him? What did they think they'd be able to do to him? He laughed suddenly, startling the men ranged in front of him.
"He's crazy" one of the men whispered "Maybe we should get out of here."
"Shut up. We're not going anywhere 'til this little cheat learns his lesson. Get him."
Allen rolled his eyes. How cliché.
His left fist hit the first man so hard that his nose broken and he fell backwards, reeling in shock. The others seemed to realise that they had seriously underestimated their opponent and slowed their charge, but that didn't save the second man from an attack as Allen reached out and grasped his wrist with his innocence powered left hand, clenching strong fingers hard enough for the bones beneath the Frenchman's skin to grate against each other. The guy he'd floored with the first punch had already backed away, apparently determined that a broken nose would be the extent of his injuries, and this one looked like he'd had enough too, so Allen let him go with an extra squeeze that cracked the man's wrist.
Jean-Francois looked both perplexed and outraged, watching as his two injured man and the one lucky enough to avoid being hurt ran away, apparently whatever loyalty they'd had for him had disappeared.
"Just let it go" Allen advised, turning to walk away. On reflection that probably wasn't the cleverest thing to do, but he thought he'd be able to doge any punch the man threw at him.
Allen hadn't been counting on the man carrying a knife.
He felt it slide into his back, just above his left hip, but oddly felt no pain even as the blade withdrew. He slumped forward against the wall, his palms sliding across the bricks as he struggled to remain upright.
Blood was seeping through his shirt and vest and trailing lower, dying the left side of his trousers a dark brown that shone wetly. He coughed raggedly, concerned that nothing really hurt, before realising his body was going into shock. Belatedly he noticed that he was kneeling on the floor, head bowed and palms splayed on the wall before him. Distantly he heard Joe calling him, telling him not to die. Well, he wasn't planning on it, but his eyes slid shut of their own accord and he rolled bonelessly onto his right side, his right hand wrapped around his body to clutch at the wound as though to hold the blood inside, but it just kept coming.
"Not so tough now, are you boy?" Jean-Francois sneered from somewhere nearby, but it was all irrelevant now. He only hoped that Joe would not do anything stupid and would stay away.
'You're dying boy.' The fourteenth sounded almost… sad. 'Let me in, I can save us.'
'No' Allen thought, though it as an effort to string two words together. 'If I do, my friends will be in danger.'
'Don't be foolish! Do you want to die?"
'If it saves innocent lives then it would be worth it!'
The Fourteenth sighed regretfully. Eventually Allen would be too weak to fight back, and the Noah would be able to force his control over the body they shared, but truthfully he didn't want it to end like this- it was a bit of an anti-climax really.
Suddenly there was a motion at his side as Joe flung himself down. "Oh God, William! There's so much blood!"
Allen grinned weakly at him, but for some reason that only made the younger teen cry harder. Joe turned and glared at the man who had done this, but to his surprise he had bigger things to worry about.
A man with long dark hair, dressed all in black was holding an equally black sword against the Frenchman's neck.
Joe didn't recognise his ethnicity, though he knew he was from the East. He was taller than both him and William, that much he could tell, though that didn't mean he was particularly tall himself, he realised, since he was a good two inches shorter than William and he wasn't entirely blessed in the height department.
"Che" the man said, scowling darkly. "As if humans don't have enough problems without killing each other too."
He was speaking English, Joe realised, but that meant he couldn't understand most of what he said, though he could tell from his tone that he was very pissed off.
Beneath his hand Allen jerked a little and he soothed him, pulling his hair back from his face and rubbing his arm in a comforting gesture.
0o0o0o0o0
Allen opened his eyes slightly something breaking through the haze of nothingness and drawing him back into partial consciousness. He'd thought he'd heard… but that wasn't possible… he groaned as his thoughts started to solidify and pain started to make itself known. He knew that voice. Heck, he'd had dreams about that voice (but he would be damned before he admitted to it). The voice that belonged to the only person in the Order that had cared, in his own brusque manner, about Allen's well being.
Perhaps it was best that his voice had all but fallen silent, and the questioned name came from his lips as nothing more than a whispery moan.
"Kanda?"
0o0o0o0o0
Joe heard the foreigner speak again, though he didn't hear the words, and the sound of running feet as the thug ran away, obviously frightened off by whatever the other man had just said.
He turned desperately to the man in black. "Please! Help me! He's dying!"
0o0o0o0o0
Kanda blinked. His French wasn't all that good, but he understood enough to see what was going on. Of course, the semi conscious body lying in a pool of his own blood was his first clue. He was half tempted to walk away, but that kind of defeated the whole purpose of getting involved in the first place.
He knelt beside the young boy, glaring at him to make sure he backed off and stayed the hell out of his way, before dropping his gaze to the body and lifting up the bloody shirt and examined the wound, not paying too much attention to the rest of the slender, though muscled, back of the teen.
The wound was deep, but as far as he could tell it hadn't hit anything too vital- if he stopped the bleeding the boy should live. He needed something small to plug the wound with. He looked around for something suitable and noticed that the prone figure was wearing gloves. He ripped the right one off unceremoniously, bunching it up and pressing it into the wound.
The youth arched his back, gritting his teeth against the pain, though a low moan still escaped, too tortured to be contained, and hands scrabbled at his back to push Kanda away.
Kanda grabbed the flailing right hand and placed it over the balled up glove. "Keep it there" he instructed, not knowing whether the boy could understand or not. "I need your other glove."
"No."
Kanda frowned, not expecting the by to be fully conscious, never mind resistant. "Don't be an idiot. You want to bleed to death?"
"Be 'kay" the boy insisted, and Kanda had a sudden flash of de-ja vu, of a dark corridor and a floor puddle with blood, running from a certain sprout's right hand.
He looked down at the scarred right hand covering the wound. Now life on the streets was bound to leave marks, but here? In the same place?
Now Kanda wasn't a great believer in coincidence, so, ignoring the weak protest from the youngest of the trio, who had been watching silently, a little afraid of the surly older man, he placed his hand onto the bleeding man's back, feeling uneven, scarred tissue beneath his palm, but he didn't have time to investigate now, though he was sure that he would find a raised cross marring the otherwise smooth flesh, and turned the boy over onto his back, brushing matted brown hair off an ashen, though tanned, face and frowning at the lack of a curse mark that he more than half expected to find there. "Other glove" he ordered, his heart rate increasing (not that he'd admit to it).
The boy was obviously too weak to resist fully, but he did try and roll over onto his side to hide his glove encased hand from sight. When Kanda managed to get hold of the hand, he could have sworn he heard a weak protest of "no, Kanda", before the fight finally left the boy and he fell slack.
Kanda did not know what to feel when, as he had expected, a reddish-black hand slid into sight as he removed the glove.
He grit his teeth, settling on annoyance for the moment. Typical. When was he not saving the Moyashi's life? "Allen fucking Walker, if you even think of dying, I'll kill you."