I sincerely apologise for leaving you guys in suspense! I had no intention whatsoever of delaying chapter two this much, really. It was completely out of my hands this time otherwise this chapter would've been up earlier in the week.
Okay, I'll keep this short XD On with the story!
Disclaimer: I do not own Pandora Hearts or its One-Shot version.
Oz sat hunched in one corner of the dark, dusty room that was actually once a spacious master bedroom in the past. But when its occupants abandoned it eleven years ago, it was converted into a storage room due to its vastness. And as he sat there, utterly alone while people were probably being killed down below at that very moment, Oz just couldn't seem to find the right words to describe how he felt.
Shocked. Terrified. Worried. Confused. Numb. Nauseous. Light-headed. Disgusted. Useless.
There might've been more, but his train of thought crashed into a premature halt when he heard the loud, heart-stopping sound of a gun going off. The twist-lock below the door handle practically exploded, causing dust and splinters to fly up into the air before descending to the ground at their own pace and making Oz start in surprise.
No... It couldn't be... They had found him already?!
The gun went off again for four more times, this time aimed at both the outer edges of the door, and with a sinking feeling of dread Oz realised that they were literally going to blow the door off its hinges.
Suddenly the gunshots stopped, and for some reason that made him more worried than when the door was being shot at.
The air buzzed with the deafening sound of eerie silence for several seconds.
And then the door flew forward with a loud slam as it was harshly kicked forward from the outside. Oz automatically scurried further back into the shadows and curled himself into a ball, trying to make himself as small as possible. He was already well out of the door's range and out of the light, but he wasn't going to take any chances and risk getting spotted.
Oz couldn't see in his current position. He had the disadvantage here. If he moved now, the intruder might notice. But sound was just as valuable as sight, and his ears told him that judging by the footsteps, the intruder was in no apparent hurry to kill him. Or maybe they had just stumbled upon this place by chance...?
"Let's cut to the chase, boy," said a dark, male voice. "I know you're here. So show yourself."
Oz swallowed. Well, since they really did know he was here, there was no point in depriving himself of sight any longer. He uncurled from his ball-form and blinked several times to adjust to the strong light from outside. There was a tall, lean figure blocking most of it though, and the only feature Oz could make out was the seaweed-like hair.
"Wh-who are you?" started Oz, mentally cursing himself at the way his voice wavered slightly. Then, summoning all his determination, he shouted, "What do you want from me?! You're one of them, aren't you; the ones that broke in?" And then, after a pause, "What did you do with my father?!" he blurted, but as soon as the words left his mouth his fierce expression slipped for a second as utter surprise flashed across his eyes, before he momentarily shut them and quickly masked it.
Ignoring the teen's strange change of expression, the man immediately let off one warning shot. Oz exhaled roughly through his nose in frustration but otherwise said nothing.
"You're in no position to be asking so many questions," stated the man calmly. "But since it is your final few moments of existence, I guess I could grant you the luxury of answers."
The man began reloading his gun at a casual pace, answering Oz's questions as he did so. "My name isn't important but if it will allow you to rest in peace, then it's Gilbert. All I want is to take your life; nothing more, nothing less. No, I am not one of those fools that broke in and ruined an otherwise perfectly smooth operation, and I know nothing of your father..."
Gilbert inserted the last bullet and cocked his gun, before directing his nonchalant gaze at Oz. "For all I know, he might already be dead."
"You bastard!" growled Oz, after his entire frame began to shake lightly with uncontainable fury and it took all his restraint to prevent himself from clenching his fists too tightly lest his nails dig too deeply into his skin.
Gilbert closed his eyes and sighed, expertly aiming his gun right at Oz's heart in the process. "I can't believe they hired a professional to take out some rich brat with a dirty mouth," he muttered.
Oz took advantage of the fact that Gilbert had momentarily closed his eyes and quickly groped around him, looking for something he could use as a weapon. Eventually his hand felt something long and cool sticking out from a crate to his right that was concealed in the shadows. He gingerly grabbed it after realising it was some sort of sharp object and when he pulled it onto his lap to get a better look, he almost smiled at his luck.
By now Gilbert had opened his eyes and upon seeing the boy doing his best to suppress a smile, he raised an eyebrow in bewilderment. Was this boy so terrified that he was starting to lose him mind?
And then, the tip of an old, bejewelled-hilted sword was suddenly being pointed towards him.
He stared at Oz, clearly surprised at this bold move. Oz had stood up by now and simply glared back, doing his best to look more determined than he actually felt. He had taken combat classes regularly but actual sword fighting was much different, not to mention that the sword in his hand was nothing more than a decorative sword, so there was a chance that it might not even be as sharp – or sturdy – as a real one.
Once his initial shock subsided, Gilbert couldn't resist a smirk because goodness, this boy really had no idea who he was up against, was he? Still, his determination was admirable. Most of his victims would already be begging on their knees by this point, and those were the ones who didn't know who he was.
"You wish to fight like the man you now are?" lilted Gilbert, though the dangerous gleam in his eye warned that he was by all means in no playful mood.
A fierce pair of angry green eyes continued to stare into molten gold ones, unwavering.
"Then... So be it. At the very least you will die with your honour intact."
Gilbert shoved his gun back into its holster before reaching behind him, much to Oz's confusion, then slipped his left hand under his coat and when he retracted it again, he brought out the gold-hilted ceremonial sword he had picked up earlier.
Without even waiting for the gasp of surprise to fully escape Oz's lips, Gilbert lunged towards him with the tip of his sword aiming directly for Oz's heart, clearly intending to go straight for the kill on the first blow. Oz just managed to sidestep to the right in time; however, he was not as fast as he thought he was. Almost immediately, Oz felt a stinging pain across his left arm and upon glancing down, he noticed a gash that tore through his clothes and flesh. It wasn't too deep or painful, but the fact that Gilbert had come so close on the first blow meant that he'd have to be very nimble with his movements.
Gilbert recovered at once and took two steps back just as Oz slashed upwards, after which Gilbert jabbed at Oz again. This time he managed to block it by bringing his sword back down to knock Gilbert's one out of the way.
They should've noticed it by then; the subtle but sure rise in temperature.
Oz took his chance and kicked Gilbert in the chest to put some distance in between them, making sure to drive the heel of his boot into the solid wall of muscles beneath. Gilbert stumbled back a bit and Oz wasted no time as he dashed forward, raising his sword with a cry of fury as he went. Gilbert spared a moment to glare at him before raising his sword just in time to block the blow. Oz kept pushing forward though, baring his teeth in frustration while Gilbert pushed back with effortless force and a stony look.
At once their swords slipped; the friction caused minor sparks to fly, but Oz was also able to graze Gilbert's cheek in the process. It was a spark of hope considering that he was fighting someone who was probably a trained hit man.
Both flew at each other once again. Their swords clashed repeatedly as each man tried to land a hit on the other. Oz cried out with each swing while Gilbert kept blocking the volley of non-stop attacks Oz was hurling his way, determined not to give the man a chance to attack. But as he blocked, Gilbert began to push forward with each clash of their swords until Oz was forced to start moving back.
Eventually, he was cornered.
Oz gasped and glanced behind him when he felt his back against the wall and Gilbert smirked, using the moment of distraction to launch an offensive strike. Oz whipped his sword up just in time and blocked with all his might but it took him every bit of energy to prevent both swords from slicing into his neck.
Sweat began trickling down Oz's face and back while he stared into a pair of fierce yet hypnotic golden eyes.
"What's wrong, kid?" asked Gilbert in a slightly husky voice, but the mocking undercurrent did not go unnoticed by Oz. "Is this really the best you can do even while someone goes easy on you?"
Oz shut his eyes and gritted his teeth as he tried to block out the man's taunts while resisting the force of his opponent's blade. However, Gilbert was just too strong and his arm was tiring.
An unusual, faint scent was in the air but both males were far too concentrated on each other to notice.
Oz opened his eyes by a fraction and glanced down at their blades, which was when an idea suddenly came to mind. It wasn't exactly safe, but it was much better than getting his throat slit simultaneously by two blades.
At once he raised his free arm and latched onto the upper half of his own blade and pushed, biting his lip to prevent a strangled cry threatening to spill at the excruciating pain of having the tender flesh of his palm and fingers slowly sliced open. Gilbert soon noticed this and for a moment he was thrown off guard by utter shock. It wasn't anticipated by Oz but he was thankful for that moment of weakness, for in the next he pushed with all his might against Gilbert's sword before twisting his body and crashing into the other's chest with his shoulder in an attempt to shove him back.
The force was enough to knock him back and Gilbert's steps faltered, causing him to crash into a stack of old boxes. Oz took the chance to catch his breath, momentarily thinking how it was strange for him to be out of it so fast. In fact, it felt more as though the oxygen entering his lungs suddenly wasn't as much as usual, which was quite odd, but there would be time to ponder over that later... If there was a later.
As he stood there panting, he held up his hand and winced at the sight of the deep cuts as well as the blood that was steadily seeping out from his wounds. So, he swiftly pulled off his cravat and hastily tied it around his hand as a makeshift bandage to temporarily stop the bleeding.
His enemy had gotten up by now so Oz instantly held up his sword again. Gilbert was about to do the same but in that very same moment, he suddenly noticed an ominous but very faint crackling sound present all around them. That also lead him to pick up the strange scent form earlier which was now stronger, and now that he was paying attention, it was not that strange at all. Rather, it was somewhat easily identifiable to him. Also, the room seemed to have gotten hotter and hazier...
And then it hit him.
"Don't tell me they...?"
With a start, Gilbert spun towards the door and his worst suspicions were confirmed. Streaming through the hallway outside and into the room were several tendrils of wispy grey smoke that seemed to be getting heavier by the minute.
"They've set the mansion on fire?!"
Suddenly he heard Oz cry out in rage, as well as his pounding footsteps that got louder at an alarming rate.
"Oh shit...!"
Gilbert brought up his sword as swiftly as he could to block while simultaneously turning to Oz, who was charging at him with his own sword already in the air.
But he was too late.
Oz slashed his sword downwards with great force before Gilbert could raise his own to block.
The man's eyes widened when he saw blood spray out from his chest in large amounts, tainting the once-innocent boy before him with the impure essence of a murderer.
"...I've been...?"
Gilbert couldn't even complete his thought due to the astonishment he was feeling, because he simply could not recall the last time anyone had ever landed a proper blow on him, let alone such a lethal one. Just how lenient had he become, if a mere boy was able to pull off such a feat?
Seconds passed in deafening silence, tainted only by the growing noise of crackling fire. Neither male moved a muscle.
And then Gilbert's sword slipped out of his weak grasp. But rather than succumbing to unconsciousness, he dropped to his knees before slumping forward and stubbornly attempted to steady himself with one hand braced against the floor, while splaying the fingers of his other hand uselessly against his bleeding chest.
Oz, too, dropped his sword before falling onto his knees while clutching his head in a vice-like grip. His eyes were alarmingly wide from shock and his whole body shook from the tremors of uncontrollable fear. Slowly, almost hesitantly, he glanced down and nearly fainted right there and then at the sickeningly huge amount of crimson blood splattered across his previously spotless, white clothes.
Gilbert's blood.
"D-did... Did I just... K-kill...?"
The thought made him so very nauseous. Not just that, but the metallic taste of foreign blood on his lips, the faint but rancid stench of burning flesh in the air, the crackling sound of wild fire and the heavy smoke all infiltrated his system, torturing each and every one of his senses.
And then, before he could even entertain the notion of throwing up, the walls around him began cracking while the floorboards below him started to groan dangerously.
They were about to give way.
A fall from that height might break a few bones at most, but the roof that would crash onto them would surely kill him if he didn't get out of the way.
But what could he do? Where could he go? The fire was already here, surrounding him, blinding him, suffocating him.
It was better this way, wasn't it? If he just died already? A useless, cowardly boy like him deserved such a fate anyway...
Suddenly, through his unfocused daze, he spotted movement in front of him and with a gasp, he realised that it was Gilbert trying to get back up on his feet which made Oz swiftly get up and shuffle a few paces back on reflex. He knew he should've been somewhat happy that the man wasn't dead, or rather, scared that he was still alive, but he didn't even get the chance to think because he was more focused on trying to make out Gilbert's muffled words that were lost over the sound of the raging embers.
"...mp...rry..."
When Oz made no move or sound, Gilbert snapped his head up and gazed irritably into the other's startled emerald eyes. "Jump...! Hurry..." he rasped, before hanging his head once more and wincing at the pain that the simple act of speaking was bringing him.
Oz just gaped at Gilbert, bewildered. Jump? Where to? Where from? Why?
By now Gilbert had gotten off his knees but he still swayed heavily from the blood-loss induced dizziness. Then he met Oz's eyes briefly once more and that was the only warning Oz got when suddenly two hands slammed into his chest, and he was abruptly shoved backwards. Oz staggered straight towards the window that overlooked the mansion's gardens and at the very same time, he heard two gunshots as well as felt the two bullets whiz past him towards the window that broke right when his back made contact with it, causing him to topple right through.
The impact of the glass shattering against his back was a startling experience and the heavy torrent of rain felt like millions of tiny icicles were stabbing his skin, but Oz's mind failed to register anything at that moment because not only was he falling to his probable death, but a bloody chest was suddenly pressed up against him while two arms wrapped themselves around his head and waist securely. Then he felt his entire body rotating, and with a sense of cold dread he realised what was happening.
In order to prevent them from getting crushed from the roof, Gilbert, who was apparently still alive, had thrown them both out the window. But for some reason the man had pulled Oz close to his chest and switched their positions so that Gilbert's back faced the earth instead.
He was going to take the fall's direct impact.
"But why?!" screamed Oz's mind frantically, during the few seconds remaining before they collided with the unforgiving earth below. "He was trying to kill me earlier. Why is he doing this?! Why is he trying to save me?!"
And then they hit the ground. The impact was strong – strong enough to shatter a bone or two maybe – even though Gilbert was there to cushion the fall and Oz literally had all the air knocked out of him.
His overwhelmed senses began to shut down from the physical and mental shock. Soon his vision began to turn dark and the world around him slowly faded away, but the last thing he registered before his senses abandoned him completely was a distant but ferocious roar that could be made out over the rumbling thunder and Gilbert's weak heartbeat below his ear, as well as a mysterious but comforting sapphire light that seemed to be pulsating softly from Gilbert's chest...
To make up for my late-ness, I won't delay chapter three for more than a week, promise! (Unless of course, something that's out of my hands happens - again. But lets hope it doesn't come down to that, shall we?)