Part 33: Trigger

"Sit up."

Daisuke's garnet eyes opened to look at the man waiting in front of his cot. He'd been asleep again. He'd been sleeping a lot lately. He cast Trap a skeptical look. "What is it? Someone brought lunch already." His voice didn't sound like himself. He thought about that for a moment. He observed the difference, and could bring the idea no further. No particular alarm or concern. No reaction. Only observation.

"I know. Sit up," Trap directed calmly. He waited as the boy leaned up from his cot, dragging the wires from the machine humming next to him across the leather surface.

"The procedure is starting soon."

"Alright," Daisuke said.

"During the procedure, your soul and the Black Wings will be completely separated."

The boy thought through the man's words and stared at him. Trap looked confused, like he was searching for something. A reaction.

"…Was that a question?" the boy asked blankly. Something off. Something missing.

"No," the scientist said, dropping it. Of course, the boy would not experience emotional response with the machines in play. "I'm going to move you to the procedure room now. We have a little under twenty minutes.

Daisuke looked down at his lap in concentration as Trap rewired the equipment to remote power and wheeled the cot into the hall. "Will it hurt him?" he asked as they entered the elevator.

Trap pressed the button for the top floor, and then the question sank in. "What?"

"Will Dark be hurt by the "procedure"?"

The scientist met Daisuke's earnest stare skeptically. The boy's question suggested emotion, but he could read nothing on the redhead's face to suggest worry or sympathy. "Why do you ask?"

Daisuke paused, looking for words, rummaging through his mind for thoughts that didn't seem to be where he'd last seen them. He was different. Something was missing. "It just occurred to me…I'm not sure why it hadn't before…he might not do well without a wing host."

"He won't be alone," Trap said. The elevator shifted to a stop, and the doors opened to the lobby outside Gorudo's office. "The Black Wings will be joined to the CEO of the company."

The table rolled forward again, but Daisuke threw a hand out and caught the door of the elevator, forcing Trap to pause. "You didn't tell me that."

"I didn't know," he answered frankly.

"This type of bond can be very easy to abuse. It could hurt him," Daisuke said, holding onto the door until he could decide what his head was trying to tell him. Something was wrong, but if he just gave it a minute…a few moments to settle out. His brain twisted and worked on itself, seeking a completion to the thought, seeking the emotion that would guide him to react. The effort resolved in a sense of half-dead passivity.

"Daisuke, let go."

He slowly released his grip on the elevator frame, looking confused. Trap pushed him to the right and down a long hallway. It eventually led to a huge, marble-tiled room. The room was situated on the corner of the building. It was at least thirty feet tall, and its walls and ceiling were made entirely of privacy-tinted glass, sporting a panoramic view of the city around them. The midday sun bathed the room in a flood of natural light. A ring of equipment was rigged up in the center of the floor. In the middle of it all was a cylindrical chamber made of thick transparent material. A massive zip-tied bundle of countless wires ran between the chamber and the other machines.

Beside the chamber, tied firmly to a metal chair, Dark sat thoroughly bound. He was surrounded by two armed guards who briefly acknowledged Trap as he entered. Daisuke's eyes locked onto the angel as Trap wheeled him into the room. Trap gave Dark and his guards a wide berth as he pushed Daisuke to a stop about eight feet from Dark's chair, next to the empty chamber.

Dark's violet eyes were no longer blindfolded, and they burned into the boy's empty gaze intently. "What did you do to him?" he demanded.

"I made things easier to cope with. It's reversible," Trap said.

"Reverse it now," Dark growled.

"No talking!" the guard next to him said, pressing a pistol to the back of Dark's head.

Dark twisted his head to glare purple daggers at the guard. "You aren't going to shoot, so put your weapon down."

"Want to try me?" the man snorted, pulling back the hammer.

"Hey, hothead! Gun down," Trap intervened, striding up to the soldier and stepping into his personal space until he backed up.

"You getting soft on your monster, Dr. Frankenstein?" the guard scoffed.

"If you damage my test subjects, my response will not be 'soft'." Trap's gray eyes flashed like cold metal as he slowly wrapped his fingers over the guard's wrist and redirected the weapon toward the angel's shoulderblade. "He knows you're bluffing. Kill him, and all of this is pointless," he instructed. He stepped away from the guard and went back to Daisuke's side to hook up the equipment.

"Don't get too attached, brainiac. We're not exactly keeping the kid as a housepet," the other guard noted. "Boss will want things out of the way when we're done."

Dark's glare flashed up to the scientist, who looked back at the guard. "Mr. Gorudo and I have an agreement regarding the boy's safety," he said.

"Not anymore, you don't. He's Special Ops's problem as soon as this is over."

"He goes free, or the deal is off," the black angel struck in fiercely.

"Have fun bargaining while you're wearing a straightjacket," a guard jabbed.

"You seriously think you could keep me here, ME, for so much as a moment, against my will? Dark Mousy, captive to a gang of paid-off cowards?" Dark's eyes lit up, glowing a vivid, angry amethyst. The men took a step back, startled. Magic lit the angel's palms, bursting through the thick vinyl sleeves. He cut upwards with both arms, grabbing hold of the pistols his guards were holding and tugging them wide. Magic seethed in his eyes as he twisted the weapons out of the men's hands. The angel slipped free of the chains on his legs. They'd been pathetically loose all along. Chains on legs really weren't as useful as people tended to think. He rose to his feet and turned on the guards, to find only one remaining.

He spun to locate the other, and froze. The second guard had managed to get to Daisuke and was holding a knife to his throat. "Get in the chamber. Now!" the man snarled.

Dark's gaze flashed to Trap. "We had an agreement, scientist."

"I'll take care of it," Trap said, shaken by how easily the angel had broken loose. He could have done it at any time. "Do as they say. Get in the chamber."

The angel scowled at him, breathing deeply to cool his rage. "You'd better." He released the clips on the guns he held and let them clatter to the floor before throwing the weapons aside. Casting a glance at Daisuke, he turned and stepped into the chamber, pulling the door shut behind him. The guard rushed forward to activate the lock, and the door hissed tight.

Daisuke drew a slow breath as the knife left his throat, blinking at the room. He'd felt it, very clearly. He'd been terrified. He clung to that emotion, and let others come behind it, dragging them cautiously like fish half-hooked. He let the winged figure standing in the cell before him become real again in his memories. "You can't do this," he breathed before the words even fully took form in his mind. "He's meant to be bound to me. You'll hurt him." He blinked at Dark, noting the condemning anger in the angel's eyes. For a few seconds, he honestly couldn't remember why that look was directed at him. He had to forcefully sustain the concept that he even cared. "Turn this off," he breathed, reaching up to the wires taped to the back of his neck. "Turn it off or I'll rip it off."

Trap and the guard exchanged a look. "Restrain him first," the scientist said.

The guard drew a pair of handcuffs from his belt and bound the boy's hands behind his back. He collected his pistol off the floor and reloaded it, training it on the boy. Trap bent down and switched off the machine. "You have fifteen minutes," he said flatly.

"No one harms the boy," Trap said, turning to the soldiers. "Before any of this equipment comes on, I have some questions that are getting answered. Stay here, and keep them both still," he ordered as he left the room.

Daisuke blinked at Dark and the men around him as it suddenly felt like a giant ice pack had been lifted off his brain. The numbness gave way gradually. Steadily. It was the same slow thickness of being aware of a nightmare and unable to wake up. Dark's eyes burned into his soul until he knew the full scope of what was happening. Until the chains and guards and wires and machines had meaning again, and their purpose froze his throat and stomach. Until the fear was finally strong and real in his mind, and the guilt even sharper, and he couldn't help but want the numbness back.

"Dark," he breathed, his heartrate climbing.

The angel leaned with his forearm against the reinforced synthetic walls of the chamber and cast his wing host a grim smirk.

*Nice of you to join us.*

- o0o0O -O- O0o0o -

Krad jumped as the apartment door swung open. He flew up from the kitchen stool he'd been perched on, a ball of golden fire ready in his palm.

Shira froze in the doorway, squinting at the sudden bright energy. "What the hell?" she cursed, backing up a step.

The angel narrowed his cold eyes and took a threatening step toward her.

"Whoah, just wait a sec!" the woman stammered, her heart picking up fiercely. She could find absolutely nothing human in the angel's expression. So different from the confusing soulfulness of Dark's eyes. But Dark's friends had said this man was also the Black Wings. How bad could he be? "Look, I'm not armed."

Krad's posture promised that he couldn't care less about whether she was armed. "Why are you here?" he finally spoke, his hard voice cutting through the room. And she'd thought Trap could sound cold…

"I sent the kid home already, and I don't exactly have anywhere else to go," the redhead snapped, staring at the magical energy he was aiming at her. If he were going to throw that at her, he'd have done it by now…right? "I thought you were leaving."

"I am," Krad scowled.

The soldier took a cautious step forward. "I assume I don't want to be hit with that," she noted of the glowing light he still hadn't lowered.

"You do not," Krad warned her.

Shira sized him up for a moment. "I'm coming in, so cool your jets, okay?" She slipped through the door and shut it behind her without taking her eyes off him. The angel dispersed the spell, looking more like he might enjoy crushing her by hand instead. She had a very physical instinct to get the hell out of there, but her curiosity outweighed logic.

"Was that some kind of magic?" Shira asked, stepping sideways toward the couch. If she really needed to, she could jump through the window.

"Yes."

It was insane that she actually believed him. "How come you can do that and Dark can't?"

Krad rolled his eyes at the mention of Dark. She was a noisy one, just like the brat, and apparently loved to ask about the same sore topics. Why was he even still here? "Of course he can do the same thing."

She pressed her fingers to the bridge of her nose. Not possible…magic wasn't real. But then, nothing about this project had seemed real. Her eyes widened uneasily. "You mean to tell me that during everything we put Dark through, he could have shot magic fireballs at us?"

That piqued the angel's attention. "Put him through what?" He smirked in anticipation.

"I'm not proud of it, you creep," she growled. The angel's dark glare reminded her to hold her wild tongue. "So...you hate Dark? That's why you're not helping them?"

"I hate every last disgusting one of you." Gold eyes glowed like fire into hers.

That fiery gaze proved he meant it. Every word of it. He was mad, and itching to act on it. She could almost feel his revulsion in the air around her, a prickling static of lethal intent that held no fear of taking action. She was in over her head here, but hey, she was in this deep already. "If you hate them so much, then why are you even here?"

She knew a second later that the question was a mistake. In a flash of lethal white, Krad launched himself forward, crossing the space between them like a cobra and hammering her into the wall. She half-screamed and felt his forearm crush her throat back against the wallboards. Her lithe body squirmed uselessly against his grip. Her training had not prepared her for something like this.

Krad glared down at the fire-haired pest that had the gall to provoke him. His hatred was not some petty grudge. It went beyond any mortal anger a human like her could possibly imagine. It ran deep in his blood, consuming and hot, fueled by centuries of injustice. And she dared to question his resolve so flippantly, this woman who knew absolutely nothing about him? She was worthless. He could crush her into Satoshi's wall and leave her like a smeared moth for him to find. Then, if his former wing host even survived his little rescue mission, that treacherous bastard would be next.

And then what?

His gut twisted with the agony of that all-too-familiar question. He was sick of it. Just a few days on this awful planet, and it all made him too sick to see straight. There was no room for hesitation on this. He had to set his resolve, starting with her. He pulled his arm back from his choking victim's throat. Kill her. He had to kill her. His hand closed decisively. He breathed deep and threw his fist into the wall.

Shira cringed and stood in stiff horror, but the hit never came. She slowly realized that she was still intact. The woman collapsed to the floor, coughing too hard to move.

Krad's fist went straight through the wood paneling on the wall, knocking open a board that had apparently already been loose. Krad's mind regained a fraction of its focus as he realized there was something loose inside the wall. He grabbed the object and tugged it out through the splintered wood. It was a small, leatherbound book. He looked down at the human struggling on the floor, and the terror in her eyes brought his fury down a notch.

He took a slow breath and a step back from his victim. All he felt when he looked at her cowering form was a solemn emptiness. Just as with Midnight's men, his violence against her brought no relief, no sense of closure for the wounds that were opened. It gave him only a kind of slow horror that none of it would be enough.

There would never be an end to this restless misery.

The vengeance he sought could not, and would not, bring him peace.

"What is it?" Shira asked hoarsely from her place on the ground, confused by the way he was hesitating.

"There's no point," he breathed, taking another step away from her. He would rather still be trapped in Dark's seal than feel like this. He would rather be dead.

Shira stumbled to her feet and backed away from him. She wanted to make a run for the door, but didn't think her legs would obey her. She clutched her bruised throat and retreated toward the windows instead. At least if he attacked again, she'd be thrown outside, into the open. Then Gorudo could have her instead. She groaned softly at the thought and studied the angel's movements. Krad was staring at her like she wasn't really there. His wings were drawn half-open and tense as if some invisible force was threatening him.

The room went silent for so long that the soldier truly had no idea what to make of him. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but you were freaking me out a lot less when you were trying to kill me," she muttered carefully.

"Stay over there," Krad said, going to the stool he'd been in when she'd first arrived. He perched on it, one foot on the bottom rung and the other on the floor. He needed to get out of this place, but his mind was too shellshocked to think of anywhere else to go.

"Is that some kind of book?" she asked warily, still rubbing her throat and watching him like a hawk.

Krad looked down at the object he was still holding from inside the wall, taking a moment to remember why he had it. For something that had been in a wall, it looked recently dusted. Needing the distraction, he opened it and studied the first page.

September 15th

For the record, this idea seems stupid, even to me. But Daisuke's probably right; It needs to go somewhere. It's taken three months to get to the point where I even have words, and even now, my thoughts flip over the moment I think I've assembled them. Daisuke thinks I need a reflective process. Easy for him to say. As torn up as he is, it seems so much easier for him to deal with this. At least he knows what emotion he's coping with.

Krad snapped the book shut. He suddenly needed to take deep breaths, and he couldn't make his lungs comply. He stood up and paced the kitchen.

"What? What is it?" Shira asked, not liking how riled up the angel was getting again. Maybe she should open the window, just as a precaution. "You can't read it?"

As nosy as she was, the woman's incessant questions gave him some much needed focus. "Of course I can read it," he said. He made himself draw back the cover again. His heart lost its rhythm as he lowered his eyes back to the small, neat handwriting. Why was he even reading this?

September 19th

I can't sleep. I guess it's been about two months now. Sometimes I really think-

He turned the page reluctantly, only to find the following sheets ripped out of the book. On the next untorn page, there were three words written in a harsh, jagged hand.

This isn't working.

The rest of the book was blank.

A hand passed between his eyes and the paper, up and down. Krad clapped the book closed and shot his attention to the woman standing in front of him. Shira looked both nervous and curious.

"What is it?" he demanded, blinking her and the rest of reality into focus.

"You've been staring at that page for five minutes. Didn't you hear me?"

He concentrated on her for a second. "No."

She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. "I said your hand's bleeding."

Krad glanced down at his hand, which apparently hadn't appreciated its trip through the wall. Scrapes. He stood up, which caused her to take a big step back. The reaction made him despise her slightly less. He put the journal on the counter and went to the sink to rinse himself off. Questions rolled around in his head, chaotic and distracting.

Shira rolled her eyes and leaned to peek through the blinds at the world outside. She leaned against the arm of Satoshi's sofa and tapped her foot. "It's a damn shame. They're not going to make it in there. Even if they get to the kid, there's no way Gorudo will let them get back out."

"If they can get to Dark, they'll escape," Krad commented flatly as he wrapped a paper towel around his hand, not really intending to compliment his nemesis, but it was the truth.

Shira picked up a candle that was on Satoshi's coffee table and sniffed it. "I've seen enough to believe he can get himself out…but himself and three others? I'm not just talking security cameras here. The loon's got an armed force and who knows how many millions in technology, and he seems obsessed enough to use all of it."

"Then they'll die," Krad said.

She cast him a slow stare. "You really don't care what happens to these folks, do you? I mean, I'm not lecturing here, so don't slam me into any more walls," she rushed, raising her hands peaceably. "You can do whatever you like. I'm just a little confused."

"Their lives are no concern of mine. They can make their own choices," the angel said passively as he peeled the paper towel off his already clotting scrapes. Minor wounds. They would heal on their own. The other hand, still bandaged from his escape from Midnight, would still need more time. He dropped his hand to his side and went to the door.

"You're leaving?"

Krad looked back at the woman, eager to be somewhere else. "Do as you wish. I have my own business." The door closed securely behind him.

- o0o0O -O- O0o0o -

To be continued!

Thank you SO MUCH for reading! I have been completely tied up lately, but it felt so good to finally get this part the way I wanted it. Please let me know what you think!

With the incentive of some good advice, I've modified the journal scene significantly (as of 6/15/11) from its original posted version. I know many people have read the chapter already, so I'm sorry for the adjustment. However, I think the new version will help leave more to your (and Krad's) imaginations for later.

Love,

Kat