Chapter 4: The Encounter
"How do you know my name?" Oz asks. He feels a sense of déjà vu; didn't he ask Vincent this exact same question when he first met him?
The wavy-haired man stares at Oz blankly. "I've heard one person talk about you, that's all," he replies calmly while picking up the stray handgun that fell on the floor. "Again, what are you doing here? Can't you hear the Clock Tower of Silence ringing? Something bad might happen," he stresses as the calm expression on his face fades into one of pure worry.
"I followed something and it led me here," Oz bluntly answers, putting his hands on his hips. "How do you know if something bad is going to happen or not? Nothing bad ever happens here," he adds, eyeing the man suspiciously.
"I've seen something happen before when this clock went out of whack, it wasn't pretty. I hope it doesn't happen to you. Anyway, about that sound…did it sound like a lullaby at all?" he replies.
"Huh?" Oz responds, "No, it was far from it. What gave you that idea?" He looks at the stranger with curiosity.
"Oh, nothing, I was just curious," the man rejoins while putting the gun he held back into his pocket. Oz frowns. "He's probably hiding something," he assumes while carefully watching the mysterious stranger. "You know, earlier, you reminded me of someone…," he comments to the taller and slimmer stranger. The stranger's face tightens. "Who do I remind you of?" he pipes as cheerily as he can. "A real worry-wart who's always saying that he's concerned with my safety…," Oz starts to explain. The golden-eyed stranger grates his teeth as he listens to the blonde finishing his sentence. "His name's Liam. Do you know him?"
The man sighs in relief. "I do know him, actually. Liam works for Rufus Barma," he notes. Oz looks at the man as if he has an appallingly giant zit on his face. "Huh? He works for me, not for the Barmas. Liam hasn't met Rufus once in his life," he clarifies. "Oh, right…," the man mumbles, shifting his attention to the bare floor.
"Either he's an idiot or he's definitely hiding something," Oz deliberates to himself. "Maybe he is that corpse from the dream…that could explain why he's so brain-dead."
"Say, do you know someone named Vincent?" he asks politely to the nameless man. The man grimaces at the mention of Vincent. "Not really, why do you ask?" he admits while shaking his head. "He told me to look for someone and it's very difficult. I was wondering if you might know him or his brother," Oz clarifies. The man's eye twitches. "I didn't know he has a brother. What's his name?" he asks while shrugging his shoulders. "I believe that Vincent said that he calls himself Raven," Oz answers in an unsure tone.
"I don't know anyone by that name, but if I see someone called Raven, I'll contact you immediately," the man remarks, nodding his head. He starts to walk out of the room when Oz grabs his arm and asks "What's your name?"
The man stops, dumbfounded. "Oh, uh…" he babbles, "Uh…uh…" He answers with a hasty "It's a secret." Oz pouts. "He definitely hiding something," he concludes while watching the man with a careful eye. "You know my name without my permission, so why can't I know yours?" he whines while clutching to the stranger's arm even tighter than before. The man sighs. "That's true. My name's Gilbert, alight?" he confesses. Oz lets go of his arm, allowing Gilbert to freely walk away from the room. Gilbert pats Oz on the head, smiles, and casually saunters away.
"Bye, Gil," Oz mutters while waving lazily. "I didn't find Raven, but at least I found someone who can help me…suspicious or not. Maybe that'll be enough for that freaky, scissors-wielding creep," he reflects to himself. A second later, Vincent's words play in his mind (again). "He goes by the alias Raven…his name is Gilbert."
"His name is Gilbert. Gilbert…," Vincent's soothing voice echoes in Oz's mind. "So that's his real name. I almost forgot it," Oz comments while walking out of the room. "Wait a minute…" he pauses, "That guy tricked me! He is Vincent's brother!" he bitterly gripes. As fast as he can, he runs out of the room and into the hallway. "Wait up!" he yells while picking up his pace. A pleased grin creeps along his face when Gilbert is in eyesight. The wavy haired Gilbert saunters in a relaxed manner, unaware of Oz's presence (despite his yelling).
Oz collapses onto the floor when he's a few feet from his target. "Almost made it…" he pants before gradually closing his eyes. Gilbert continues to saunter without a care until a bystander points to Oz's unconscious body. "Is that boy dead?" the person shrieks, panicking and tugging on her hair. Gilbert runs towards the body, panicked, only to find one sleeping Oz. He checks Oz's pulse on his neck only to find that he's still breathing regularly. He sighs in relief. "I know this boy, let me take care of this," he assures to the bystander while picking up Oz's limp body. He carries the lightweight duke to the main Vessalius house and drops him off in the living room.
He leans towards Oz. "Oz, this is for your own good," Gil whispers in his ear, "you should stop searching for me while you can."
Oz shivers while he's asleep. "Nngh, not today…," he sleep-babbles while rolling around the cushy couch. Gilbert quietly laughs and throws his hefty black coat on top of the sleeping blonde. He then tousles Oz's already messy hair and looks at him one last time before walking away.
Once he's out of the house, a shrill girl's voice starts speaking to him.
"What you created…will fall," she warns before her voice fades into nothingness.
Gilbert glowers at his surroundings and sighs. "Just what is going on?" he bitterly gripes while clutching his arm and pitifully looking at himself.
((Author's comments: This chapter is awfully short and consists of…mainly one scene, but that sole scene is very important (and long) so I decided to turn into a standalone chapter. For the next few chapters, there will be less Author's Comments (if at all) so that the focus can be on the story…and not on me. One thing before I go: Did you notice that all of these chapters ended in somebody talking? Hmmm…))