Black Cat Fan Fiction ❯ Retribution ❯ Chapter 3

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: Irene Sharda
Creed gets his own visit from a sultry PHOENIX agent, but meanwhile, Train is in for a gory shock when he gets back to the motel...

Anime/Manga: Black Cat Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Action / Drama / Hentai / Psychological / Suspense | Type: Yaoi | Uploaded On: 05.23.2008 | Pages: 6 | Words: 15.1K | Visits: 339 | Status: Work In Progress

Chapter 3
One and Two and Three…Four and One…
Listening to the notes flying through the air, his mind followed them like a path through uncharted waters. It was the first he had heard this melody, but he was enjoying it quite thoroughly. Every slur and forte, ever crescendo and pianissimo, had a life and vibrancy about it that seemed to tell a story.
The charming thrums and beats of the piano, mixed with the distinct twisting and bending of the violin's strings, two instruments from two different sections, everything blended together to make one magnificent sound!
As Creed Diskenth heard each note, his mind recorded them, imprinting each sound onto his brain. And by the time the piece ended, his hands could play it just as well, if not better, than the pianist he had just heard.
Sighing with pleasure, the silver-haired young man was no longer interested in the rest of the concert, the single piece having taken all of his interest. Taking up his simple black leather jacket, Creed silently exited the empty balcony, taking to the moonlit rooftop. Humming the tune in his head, he walked lithely through the night, leaping from rooftop to rooftop with practiced ease.
He was glad he'd taken this night off and gone alone to enjoy himself. Being cooped up in that mansion with the rest of his Apostles these last few uneventful weeks, was making him go stir-crazy—and when he got like that, things began to get quite “unhealthy” for the people around him. Needless to say, Doctor would much rather be working on his endless projects than healing disemboweled Taoists, and so told Creed that he should take the night off.
Exchanging his usual attire for a simple long-sleeve black linen shirt, and a pair of black jeans, he'd done just that. Having a refreshing dinner, and then going to a classical concert, he had definitely experienced pleasure that night. The song that he'd heard had reached right into his soul. It seemed to show the sadness and loneliness that consumed his heart, yet the hidden hope that wished to reach out from within it as well.
Stopping to look up at the full moon, he sighed in unhappiness as thoughts of the man who never left his mind, came back full-blown like a dark flower in his chest. As if on cue, he felt a slight nudge on his ankle. Looking down, he was surprised to see a small stray cat, as black as midnight with eyes as golden as the sun. Smiling, he picked the cat up, and watched as it licked his hand. He sighed, “Why can't my Cat be like you, little one? Why can't he understand that I mean him no ill will, that only he and I are suited for one another? That we need each other, like you need food to survive?”
The cat only looked up at him, his mysterious eyes devoid of an answer to his questions, yet they were so deep they seemed to carry the secrets of the universe. With one agile, fluid movement, the black cat jumped from his arm and back onto the rooftop, quickly disappearing into the night. Creed followed it with his keen, but soft, blue eyes until it disappeared. Glancing up into the moonlight, he silently wondered what his dearest was doing, right at this moment. It's too much to hope that he misses me…but if he only thinks about me, it will be enough to quench my troubled heart.
The man shook his head suddenly, wondering where all this flowery language was coming from. Must have been the concert tonight, the great classical composers can often stir up the most interesting things in you. He couldn't wait to play the piece at home in the sanctum of his rooms; for while the musicians of the concert hall needed an audience to play, he needed no such thing. There was only one person that he played for, and even though that person wasn't there in the flesh, he could always pretend…
“Train…” he whispered lightly under his breath, humming the tune that had somehow taken possession of him that night.
“Chopin's Etude in E Major, Op. 10 No. 3, otherwise known as “Tristesse”—quite a sad tune, yet somehow still so beautiful, do you not think so?” a new sultry voice with a light accent, commented on the sound of the light melody.
Creed smiled, not turning to face the newcomer. “The interpretation depends on who the interpreter is. I was wondering when you were going to say something—”
He turned around and looked at the young woman with a slight twinkle to his azure eyes. “—in view of the fact that you have been following me, since the restaurant.”
The woman, who stood behind him, was about his age, her long hair, the color of the crystal blue ocean, was pushed up in a loose French twist held together by a silver, jewel-encrusted hairpin set in the shape of a scallop seashell, on top of that she had a set of flashing sea-green eyes to match. Her outfit was both mysterious and plain, a full black hooded cloak, with a gold pin shaped like a bird holding the ensemble together, and a gold antique cross pendent was around her neck. Her legs and feet, like the rest of her, were very shapely, and were shod with a pair of tall, but chic stiletto boots. She was quite pleasant to the eye as far as women go, and he knew that even Echidna would have had a jealous fit if she saw the female, but to him…the looks did nothing to stir his heart.
When she spoke again, he identified her sleek European accent as being French, saying more about her identity as a foreigner. “You have a pretty quick eye, Monsieur Creed Diskenth. I thought for sure, no one could tell.”
Though he was immune to her charms, it didn't stop him from applying some of his own and finding out what the woman could possibly want with him. “A person would have to be less than blind, to not notice a beautiful woman like you.”
She smiled daintily and walked closer to him, standing casually by his side. “That is a welcome and appreciated comment from you, monsieur. Flattery will get you everywhere.”
He smiled enchantingly, running a light finger across her shoulder. “Since you clearly know my name, mademoiselle—it's only fair that you give me yours; I'm sure I will find it alluring.”
“Then you must have it by all means.” She held out her hand delicately. “My name is…Atlantica LaCroix.”
He took her hand in his own and lightly kissed it. “Enchanté, LaCroix-san. Rather an interesting name, I must say it suits you well. Now, why would you take the time to seek out little old me?”
She laughed demurely, “Now we both know that there is nothing `little' or `old' about you, monsieur. But I must admit your charming voice and pleasant manners, of almost chivalric proportions, are quite rare in today's world. They would be sure to sweep any girl in Paris off their feet.”
She lightly touched his shoulder and then quickly spun around him, so that she was on his opposite side but closer to his body. She whispered covertly in his ear, “However…I am not from Paris.”
He looked blinkingly back at her, as she swung herself from around him, and sat precariously on the edge of the roof, her legs swinging from off the side.
She spoke again, her tone going from appealing, to business-like. “We both know you have no interest in me whatsoever, and that this charismatic personality act you're putting on, is nothing but a façade…there is only room for one inamorato in your heart.”
She looked over at him slyly, “A certain—Chat Noir, if I'm not correct?”
Creed looked over at her harshly, “Don't overstep your boundaries, woman. You have no right to say his name, no matter the language used. I grow tired of this senseless banter. What is it you wish of me?”
Atlantica walked to the edge of the roof, her leather boots clicking on the stone. “I have a proposition to offer you, one which concerns your future, as well as that of your beloved Chat, monsieur. However, I hate to talk out here battered by the elements. I'd be much more comfortable, in a lovely garden gazebo over a glass of white wine. Would you not agree?”
She smiled her crimson lips at him briefly, but not waiting for his answer, launched herself off the rooftop and into open air! Her legs flying like that of a ballet dancer, easily landed on the opposite roof, only to take off once again. She continued on her way, knowing for sure that the man would follow her. She had planned her words carefully, and knew that this particular man would now not leave her alone until he had heard out the rest of her conversation. She had him exactly where she wanted him, like she had all men…
As she glided over the jewel of a town, she looked down to the place in which she was headed. The garden restaurant in which she had reserved the whole establishment for tonight's meeting, was very beautiful to look at and very romantic in appeal and that was what she always looked for in wherever she stayed. She could see the waiters and chefs had done as ordered and set up a small table in the restaurant's garden gazebo, which was the place's crown jewel itself, set on the top of a grassy hill with fountain, ponds, and small streams filled with koi, surrounded it on all sides. The table was set up beautifully, with bowl of fresh bread, two plates of fresh salad with vinaigrette dressing, and two full glasses of white wine.
Atlantica landed softly on the ground, and walked slowly up the steps of the gazebo platform, the light of many fireflies dancing around her body and lighting up her eyes. Standing next to the table she looked back the way she had come, but saw nothing. She sighed and folded her arms in impatience. What was taking him so long? She was going slowly enough so that he wouldn't lose her trail. Did she not do enough to capture his attention, and he had simply ignored the invitation? Men…they were the most frustrating of creatures…
“Well, you certainly planned this meeting well, Mlle. LaCroix.”
Well, speak of the devil…She turned around a flashed a sensual smile at the silver-haired man standing behind her leaning against one of the structure's white posts. “Merci, M. Diskenth. I like to do everything with some style. Won't you join me while I explain my purpose for seeking you out tonight?”
Creed matched her smile and nodded, while his mind quickly put everything into perspective. The woman had not as of yet, posed any sort of a threat to him, but of course, who knew what weapons were hidden underneath that cloak. Yet, his curiosity was wetted enough to ignore that. She knew who he was and what he was capable of. She knew better than to try anything stupid.
He bowed slightly and directed her to a seat. She smiled back and sat down in the chair he had pulled out for her. He then sat down and silently observed her behavior as she began eating her salad.
Atlantica watched Creed as she chewed, and saw that while he didn't eat anything, he gazed at her intensely, studying her and no doubt measuring her abilities, while waiting patiently for her to talk. She mentally shook her head in pity. Men…such arrogance.
“M. Diskenth, I have something to ask you. Do you really want to destroy Chronos? Or just become more powerful than them, and destroy them in the process?”
He blinked at her surprise. “Well, that question came from out of nowhere. I'd say closer to the second option.”
Creed captivatingly flashed his cool ice blue eyes at her. “But why talk about me, when you are so much more interesting. Now, I will answer no more of your questions, until you tell me just who you are, and who sent you.”
She sipped at her wine lightly, before gazing back at him with her own piercing eyes. “I have already told you my name. Now I shall tell you of my purpose. I have come to give you a proposition.”
Creed took a small bite of a soft breadstick, “What kind of a proposition?”
“I know that you want power more than you want Chronos' head on a platter; you said so by your own admission. I work for an organization called PHOENIX. My superiors have asked me to offer what it is that you wish.”
“PHOENIX, you say? And how can your group do anything more for me, than I can do for myself?” He said before taking a taste of his wine.
She pushed her hair behind her ear, “PHOENIX can give you power that Tao could never top. We are stronger than even your complex mind could imagine.”
“Then why haven't you people taken out Chronos?” The man inquired. He had already tasted a little of everything. He had experienced most poisons, and had acquired a resistance to most; he however didn't taste anything malicious in any of his food. Well, at least these PHOENIX people are honorable.
She hunched her shoulders, “We could take down Chronos anytime, but only when it's advantageous to us.”
He cocked an eyebrow at her, “Really?”
She drank another swallow of wine, “So, will you consider joining us? You could still have your Apostles as your underlings, but you would be taking a big step into a much bigger world.”
She watched the silver-haired swordsman take another drink of his wine in thought. “You don't have to give me an answer right now. You may think about it if you wish.”
He nodded and put down his glass before standing up from the table in silence, “Mlle. LaCroix, I had a wonderful time, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to decline. You have said nothing that could convince me to join your little group, but thank you for the offer.”
Atlantica cracked a stiff breadstick between her lithe fingers, “So you will not join us?”
Creed turned around and began to walk off the platform, “You are correct, LaCroix-san.”
“Not even when the Cat does?”
The young man stopped in his tracks at the sound of the name, “Train…you mentioned his name before, and I told you then not to overstep your boundaries. I tire of reminding you.”
The woman took note of the dangerous glint in the man's voice with an inward smile. Men are so easy to rile up…
Creed spoke again without moving, “What does this have to do with him?”
“This offer was not made to you alone. Operatives have been sent to your feline friend as well, with the same invitation.”
“Hmph, Train will never say yes. You're wasting your time.”
Atlantica laughed at that, “Oh, he'll say yes, alright. If not now, he will later. They always do…”
Creed looked behind him and turned slightly, a flash of crimson in his eyes. Walking back up into the gazebo, he came to her side and leaned close as to make his point absolutely clear. While the charm still lined his handsome features, all sense of benevolence was completely gone. His voice was low, steady, and deadlier than venom.
“Not you, nor any of your little buddies, have the right to even shine Train's shoes. Don't even suppose that you are his superior, or even his equal. I am the only one who comes even remotely close. I'm going to warn you once, and only once: Don't you come near him, or even contact him. And if you threaten or hurt him in anyway—death will be the least of your problems. Do you understand me?”
The young woman didn't bat an eye, “Perfectly.”
“You can relay that message to your bosses also, as well as your own failure to recruit me tonight. I call no one master, and there is only one I call partner, there are no other positions that can be filled.”
Atlantica too stood up from her spot, her glass in hand. “So this is your final answer on the matter?”
Creed smiled once more, his personality seeming have switched back to that of the charming intellectual. “It is, Mlle. LaCroix. Though, I thank you for the food. It was lovely, and the wine was to die for.”
She inclined her glass towards him, the wind swirling around her beautiful figure, catching the edges of her cloak and lifted slightly, slightly revealing the edges of a striking black Grecian combat uniform. “Well, I'm sorry I took up some of your valuable time. I will tell my superiors your reply. However, it was nice having dinner with you as well, I'm glad you enjoyed the wine; it's the best of Chardonnay.”
The breeze picked up around the couple and swirled between them like magical currents, fireflies interweaved in the air like tiny swirling dancers of light, their reflections lighting up the water. The spray of water from the fountains twirled in the air, rising higher and higher in height and sending small droplets through the air, filling the air with a fine mist and splashing small droplets over the table, splashing in the remaining glass of wine and the leftover food.
Creed picked up his glass, the remaining golden liquid tantalizingly sparkled in the night, reminding him fondly of his Cat's beautiful amber orbs. With one short shot, he drank the rest of the wine, smiling at the light taste. Even has a kind of sweet aftertaste to it…
He was about to turn to walk away, when his vision suddenly jolted! Putting his hand to his head, he tried to blink away the incoming dizziness, but that seemed to only make it worse. The glass left his hand and shattered loudly on the ground, while a harsh headache began to pulse within his head, and pain shot from his heart all over his body. What the heck was this? Why was he getting sick all of a sudden? Had he been drugged? Poisoned? But he checked for that before he ate…
Falling to one knee, he shakily looked over at Atlantica, only to see that the woman was perfectly fine, calmly watching him over the rim of her own glass with her teal-colored eyes.
His mind was swimming, but he knew that she was in some way responsible for what was happening to him. She had somehow put something in his drink when he wasn't looking, and he had fallen for it…now that just made him mad. Taking a hold of the Imagine Blade's hilt, he tried to steady himself enough to strike.
Atlantica cocked an eyebrow as the fallen Diskenth, went for his infamous weapon. Well I guess he must have figured out there was something in his drink by now. But I wonder if he knows that the stuff in his drink allows me certain…privileges?
Before Creed even had time to unsheathe his sword, the azure-haired French woman raised her hand to him and made circular motions with her fingers as if drawing trails in the air, her bottle-green eyes beginning to glow with their own luminosity. At that moment, such intense pain came to the Taoist's chest that he couldn't even cry out!
“Did you honestly think it would be that easy, monsieur? That you could just say `no' to PHOENIX? You will regret your error in judgment in the future mon ami, but then I am sure you are even regretting it right now.” She looked upon him with a condescending smile and a gaze of disdain.
He gritted his teeth past the awesome pain, the thick cover of darkness quickly flooding his mind and vision. “You…witch…”
She smirked and threw her hand into a twisting motion, making the pain triple in strength. “Your file says that you underestimate many of your opponents, and it seems it was quite correct. You were probably all wrong in most of the assumptions you made about me. However…one thing you did say, was quite true—the wine was definitely to die for.”
Creed could no longer hold on to consciousness, no matter how much his rage was determined to. With the combination of anguish from the woman's minstrations, and the poison's effect in his system, it was worse than slamming his head in three times with a sledgehammer. However, in his last thoughts, he wondered if this was not just the first attack of many, and that this would not be the last time he heard his name, that of his beloved, and PHOENIX all in the same conversation…
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Atlantica watched as her silver-haired prey collapsed into painful unconsciousness, knowing full well that when the man awoke, he would be in a really, really bad mood…one could even say a psychotic mood. Did she know that?—yes. Did she care?—no.
Walking up to his body, she unceremoniously kicked him on his back and straddling his stomach, she pried open his mouth with her fingers. From his lips, the water that had sprayed into his drink and had not only been the instrument of poison to his system, but also the reason she had been able to inflict crippling pain upon him, dripped from the corner of his mouth and onto the floor. Atlantica then proceeded to pull Creed's arm, until his body was lying out straight on the ground. “You know? You weigh more than you look…is that all muscle in that lean body?”
She stood and stretched, before turning to the fountain. “Come, we don't have all day, ma soeur.”
The magnificent fountain stopped flowing, and the water began to congeal and swirl into the air, as if under some type of bewitchment! The mass of water shifted from out of its stone confines, taking a step on the outside ground, moving like a sentient being…which in fact—she was.
The water flowed onto itself, forming, shaping, and sculpting, until the mass of water started to look more and more like a human being. The liquid took on color, which became flesh, and the flesh became swathed in black cloth. Before even two minutes had passed, the water had shifted into a pair of very feminine legs, arms, a beautiful torso, and everything else in between. The “liquid” quickly became a beautiful young woman. A woman who was dressed, shaped, and had a face exactly like Atlantica's (even an identical antique golden cross around her neck), except for two things: the color of her eyes and hair were reversed (sea green hair and ocean blue eyes), and the bejeweled shell comb holding her French twist up, was a conch shell rather than scallop.
The new young woman walked up to the other female, before looking down at the fallen leader of the Hoshi no Shito, her foot near his open mouth. With a sticky slurp, the “water” that had come from Creed's lips traveled to her boot and absorbed into the cloth, and becoming one with its original source once again.
She smiled, “He's kind of cute…for a man. It will be nice to have him in PHOENIX. Don't you think so, sister?”
Atlantica went to the side of her identical twin, “I assume you told the Celestials his answer before you drugged him, correct Pacifica?”
Pacifica LaCroix looked at her sister with a smirk, “Well, their orders were the same as my actions: go to Stage 2. I just took the initiative, that's all.”
The other woman sighed, “I told you about doing that, Pacifica! You have to obey protocol when it comes to our superiors.”
Pacifica rolled her sapphire eyes, “Whatever, ma soeur. You didn't have to cause M. Diskenth all that suffering. You could have just let me work my way through his system. He wouldn't have harmed you; I would have made sure of that.”
Atlantica smiled, “Yes, but it was fun. However, we have to move, the toxins you put in his body will only last for about 12 to 15 hours. We have to do our job in that time. Call Firestorm and tell him that they are to meet us at the designated place.”
“Do we have to sister? I'm sure we can handle this on our own.”
“Protocol, Pacifica…protocol.”
The green-haired woman sighed exasperatingly and took her cell phone from out of the folds of her cloak, flipping it open and dialing a specific number. The phone rang only once, before a voice came on the line. “This is 010.”
Pacifica answered back astutely, “010 this is 09. You standing by, Firestorm?”
The male voice on the other line said lightly, “We both are, Ningyo.”
“We are ordered to move to Stage 2. You and Alchemist ready to go?”
“Of course, doll. We're always ready. We'll be at the appointed location, see ya there.”
Pacifica, codename: Ningyo, smiled at the American southern accent the man sported heavily. Though he was a man, that accent never failed to charm her. “I'll love to see you in action again, Firestorm.”
The man laughed nonchalantly, “You'd better not let Siren hear that, Ningyo.”
Pacifica snapped her phone closed and laughed before looking over to her twin sister, who eyed her with mild displeasure. “Oh, stop looking at me like that Siren. We have a job to do, so lets do it.”
Atlantica, also known as Siren, shook her head in amused exasperation before turning to look at the sky. Her eyes then began to glow and her body condensed and changed forms of matter and composition, becoming a compound composed of molecules of only two hydrogen atoms and one oxygen—water. Like Pacifica, Atlantica also had the power to turn her body into “living” water…
The young agent transformed from flesh and blood, to liquid water, to water vapor is less than a minute. Her sister was little slower in her transformation, but soon joined her twin in the skies, the two making their way to their next mission. They were two sides of the same coin, daughters of the sea, and two of the best and deadliest agents PHOENIX had in its arsenal.
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Dr. Jayden Calleigh stood up from his table at a quaint little city café, and placed his phone back into his pocket before leaving payment and a handsome tip, on the table for the cup coffee he had only half-drunk. As he walked away, he winked at the waitress who slightly swooned from his gaze. I mean, it wasn't everyday that she saw handsome studious young men like this one at her job. Dressed in black slacks, black turtleneck, black dinner jacket and expensive alligator shoes, everything about this man screamed smart and rich. His black hair was cut astutely, and his brown eyes sparkled with intrigue, the streamline silver glasses only accented them. However, there was one thing she thought was kind of strange about him. The man had a long cloak clipped around his neck and flipped over one shoulder. To her, such an accessory would be seen as gaudy, but on him it seemed to just fit in with his mystifying persona…
Jayden felt the woman's eyes on his back as he walked away, and inwardly smiled. Dream all you want my dear, but knowing the real me…that's a dangerous position to put yourself in.
As he walked away, he pulled out his phone again, and dialed a number on speed-dial. His cell continued to ring and eventually transferred to voicemail. Jayden swore and snapped the phone shut, he rolled his eyes and jumped into his sports car that stood by the road across from the café. Unlike the dark look he sported himself, his Lamborghini was painted in an all light gold body casing, black flames accented the sides. As he jumped in, he turned around and winked at the staring waitress. Closing the door and starting the engine, he smirked as he saw that the woman was doing all she could to stop from fainting. Revving the engine to life, the young doctor drove down the street sleekly and without heed to any kind of local speed limit, his car streaming down the street like a devil out of Hell. His young partner had a habit of being “out of reach” when he was engaged in his many “hobbies”…and if Alchemist was true to form, than Firestorm knew exactly where to find him.
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DIT-DIT-D-D-DIT-DIT-DIT!
The young man lifted his head from the bed lazily and looked over to the pair of pants that were strewn on the floor, the phone in the pocket vibrating and jingling as someone was calling him.
With a slight growl, the blond seventeen year-old crawled around and grabbed his jeans. Looking at the caller, he sighed and rolled his eyes in exasperation. Rather than answer the phone, he put it on vibrate and headed to the shower for five-minutes, before getting dressed while humming a Linkin Park tune to himself.
Taking his black cloak from off a raggedy coat rack, he clipped it around his neck, the gold phoenix pin glinting off the moonlight. Pulling black leather gloves over his fingers, he then opened the front door to the pay-per-hour motel room, but not before turning back around towards the bed he had just left. His icy snow white grin could have put absolute fear in the devil himself, not to mention the frail person who was on that bed.
Lying on the mattress, her limbs tied to the bedposts with piano wire, a young woman stared back at him. Her once fair skin was covered in bruises, and her clothes which had once looked like a school uniform, was ripped and torn, no part of her body shielded from even the most obscure eyes. Though her face was quite pretty, there was hardly any evidence of that anymore. While her face was not badly bruised, the thatch work of long but razor-thin cuts along her facial flesh would leave lifelong scars. However, despite all this, she was quite conscious—conscious and looking as if she was in eternal Hell…
It was exactly how he liked his women.
As he looked upon his handiwork, the handsome young man couldn't help but smile. He walked back up to her side, and grinned even wider as he saw her shudder and flinch as he approached her. Taking her chin firmly in one hand, he brought his lips down on hers, giving her a hard, bruising kiss, making sure to lick some of the blood from the side of her mouth. He rose back up and looked at her with vivid green eyes, his hand playing with her long brown hair. “You are quite amazing, darling. I had fun.”
Tears rolled down the woman's cheek, and she tried to move her face away from his, but his grip was too strong. Then his hand went across her cheek so fast, that she could have easily suffered whiplash from the force.
The man's eyes were cold, but his smile only grew wider. “Now, now, I told you no moving away from me. Don't try to turn me on again; I have a job to go do. I love it when you struggle, but of course I still have to discipline you for misbehaving.”
He looked up at her swollen right arm, “When you scratched me, I had to break your arm and tie you up. And when you wouldn't stop yelling and screaming—I had to cut out your tongue. I don't think you want me to discipline you anymore, do you?”
She rapidly shook her head, and he nodded in agreement with her answer. “That's a good girl…”
He kissed her once again and reached over to caress her breast fondly. All the while, with one hand he took out a switchblade from his pocket. With the press of a button and an expert slash, blood suddenly spurted to the ground, and the young woman screamed out in silence and in agony.
Cleaning the blade on her clothes, he smiled apologetically. “This was a present from my big brother, so I always have to make sure it stays clean and in working order.”
He looked at the long gash on the teenage girl's side and gave a final nod of approval. Right now, the cut was not fatal…but he had made sure to nick an artery, and in 3 or 4 hours, things might just become fatal. Either way, it would be very painful in the meantime.
Putting the knife in his pocket once again, he headed back to the door once again. “This is goodbye my darling. I know you enjoyed our time together, just as much as I did.”
Opening the door and stepping outside, he took one last look into her horror-laden eyes. Finding it necessary to calm down his swarming hormones, he shut the door closed behind him with a bang, locking it shut. Taking off one of his gloves, he held the brass key in his bare hand.
His emerald eyes began to glow, and within his hand, electric sparks began to surround the key. In less than half a minute, the key turned from being composed of the normal copper zinc alloy, to being made up of calcium carbonate aka: common chalk!
His features returning to normal, he slipped his glove back on. With the now chalk-white motel room key in hand; he headed down the dirty motel halls and down the stairs. As he passed the motel manager/registrar, the man gave him a broken-toothed grin. “Well, you've been up there for a long while—longer than most of my customers—but you paid for the whole night so I guess it's your business.”
The young teen just smiled back at him, “That's wonderful…”
The man couldn't help but shiver at the male, who was more than two times younger than he. The smile on that blond haired boy's face, made him wish he had never spoken, or that he even accepted the man's business…he didn't want to be anywhere near that youth.
The young man in question turned back around and headed to the door, speaking almost to himself. “Yes, that is most wonderful.”
As he opened the door, his grip became tighter on the chalk key in his hand, turning it to white powdery dust that sifted to the ground.
Closing the door, he turned around about to walk down the stone steps to the sidewalk, when he was greeted with the unexpected sight of a stunning Lamborghini sitting on the street as if it owned the entire block. A tall striking man donned entirely in black, wearing a cloak identical to his, stood leaning against the car, flipping an antique pocket watch, open than closed again with a trace of mild impatience on his face. He looked up at the young man as if not surprised to see him standing there, before flipping the watch closed with a snap of finality.
The young man looked at the older one with slight surprise, before that same insatiable grin returned to his face. “You didn't have to come and get me, you know. I was coming.”
Jayden put his watch back into his pocket, the teen's smile not even fazing him. “I called you half an hour ago, what took you so long, Vane?”
The seventeen year-old Vane Satoshi a.k.a. Alchemist walked down the stairs, hitting his partner playfully in the shoulder. “I said I was coming.”
Jayden got in the driver's seat as Vane went around to the passenger side. “Just leave your phone on next time, will ya?”
Vane got in and slammed the door closed, “My phone was on; I was ignoring you.”
The older brunette rolled his eyes and sighed as he started the car, “Well, we have to go meet the girls. I hope you didn't exhaust yourself, we're going to have a long night.”
The blond slouched in his seat, not bothering to buckle his seat belt on as the car ripped down the street. He lifted his eyebrow incredulously at his partner. “You interrupted my night, just to go meet some girls?”
“You know just who I'm talking about: Atlantica and Pacifica.”
“Those two aren't girls, they're Amazons. And can we pull over and get a couple of beers or something? I'm parched.”
If anything, Jayden seemed to have pressed the gas peddle harder, “No can do, we're going to be late as it is. Besides, the last thing we need is for you to be intoxicated on the job. The Celestials don't look kindly on that type of stuff.”
Vane snorted in slight indignation, “Do I look like I care what those guys think?”
The young doctor looked at his partner with sharp severity, his self-control being the only thing keeping him from pulling the car over, and lighting a fire under the headstrong teenager. “Keep that mouth of yours under strict control, Satoshi! I trust I'll never hear you say anything like that again. And if you EVER think such traitorous thoughts, I will personally tell Llewellyn about your insubordination myself.”
A flicker of slight horror came over Vane's features, and Jayden could see he had made his point. There wasn't much that could put fear into a dangerous and sadistic young man like Vane Satoshi, but one of those things (if not the only thing) was the opinion and presence his older brother. Llewellyn and Vane were alike in many aspects, but Vane was in constant awe of his big brother and he was the only person he truly respected. Llewellyn dotted on his brother more than anything and the two often lived in their own little world, where only the two of them mattered…
After a few minutes of complete silence, the doctor asked, “So what kind of girl was it this time?”
The blond immediately perked up, “Oh, she was spectacular; I met her at this high school and she was for me right away, I could see it in her eyes. It was just a matter of some physical `persuasion', and she was all mine. The best I've had in weeks. Her hair was so fine and silky, and that face…oooh, to die for.”
“You didn't leave a mess we're going to have to clean up later, did you? What did you do to this girl this time?”
Vane looked as excited as a child recounting his favorite Christmas morning memories, “Well, first I used a knife to—”
The man held up his hand, “Never mind, I just ate.”
The young man crossed his arms in irritation, “Hey, I listen to you when you go on and on about your hobbies.”
“That's my work, not a hobby.”
Jayden smiled as his partner responded back with his usual zeal. He and everyone else in PHOENIX knew about Vane's “hobbies”, but no one really cared as long as he kept doing his job, and his brother actually supported him.
Vane Satoshi was one of the best at what he did, but that was only as long as he was happy. And if slaying and raping women from time to time was what made him happy—PHOENIX was always in the interest of keeping its employees—content.
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By the time Train had regained consciousness, the rain had stopped its incessant pounding. As he looked up into the clear but starless dark black sky, he realized with an aching sensation of cramped muscles that he was still in the same crumpled position in which he had fallen. His clothes, hair, and entire body were soaked, and even though it was a nice summer night, he was chilled to the bone. Trying his best to stop his teeth from chattering, the young Cat slowly got up, looking around him for any type of trouble. A quick look at his watch told him that, he had blacked out for almost 7 hours—it was practically the next morning! The blond creep and his mind-controlling pal, were definitely gone by this time. Looking down, he saw a bullet lying on the rooftop reminding him that there had been three PHOENIX bastards who ambushed him, knocking him out with a prick from a drug-laced dagger.
His hand instinctively going to where the wound had been, he could see that it had already clotted and while it hurt, it wouldn't cause him any trouble. I'd love to get my hands on that golden-haired freak. What did he do that for, anyway? That was a pretty elaborate plan just to make sure I was out of commission for some hours. Hmm, oh well…I can think about that later. I need to get back to the motel before Sven kills me. No, scratch that, he's already going to slaughter me. I need to get back before Eve gets mad enough to pick up my pieces afterward and filet them over a roasting fire.
Cracking his neck back and forth, Train wrung out his clothes as much as he could before leaping of the rooftop and down to the quiet streets. He was about to call Sven on his cell phone, when he noticed that he had a missed call and a new voice message. Jenos? What did that idiot want?
His irritation only making his headache worse, Train decided to leave calling Sven and listening to Jenos' no-doubt-useless message, until he got back to the motel. The cold sent a shiver up his spine as his water-soaked clothes clung to his skin like a leech upon his skin. With a throbbing shoulder, a splitting headache, and the threat of pneumonia hanging over his shoulder, Train began to walk down the silent streets, trying his best to get his mind off of those PHOENIX bastards, and instead think about getting a good night's sleep after a hearty meal and a bottle of milk. But one thing was for sure, he was going to have a lot of explaining to do…
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Quite some hours earlier, Sven was searching for an explanation himself, but in a much more active fashion…
When he had first heard the spiky blonde's voice, he knew there was going to be trouble. However, the minute he tried to even make an offensive—or even defensive—move, he was suddenly paralyzed where he stood! Looking over to Eve, he could see that she couldn't move either, or even morph her body to fight back. A brief glimpse of fear and confusion came into her bright scarlet eyes, but was quickly buried as her usual defiance came back into her eyes. That's my girl!
The black-haired man looked bored as he sat down at the table, his head in his palm, as his other hand tapped on the table. The spiky-haired young male however, paid close attention to the two of them; his eyes staring at them in interest, studying them, with one of the creepiest smiles he had ever seen. Knowing that the young man had a habit of moving things with his mind, his telekinetic abilities must have been the reason why neither he nor Eve could move.
After a few moments, the blond turned to Eve—his smile would have made a pedophile jealous. “Well now that we're all comfortable, I think we should all get acquainted. My name's Llewellyn, and the suave, but dull man behind me, is Dante. Now why don't you tell me your name, little one?” His hand lightly caressed her cheek.
“Stay away from her!” Sven barked in outrage, futilely trying to attack the annoying little upstart. However, instead of release, he felt the invisible restraints contracting, the pressure suddenly beginning to send pain through his body. His ribcage feeling like it was in the coils of the strongest python on earth, and his throat felt like it was surrounded by its brother! Sven began gasping desperately for air, his lungs quickly becoming oxygen-deprived.
The blonde, Llewellyn, looked over at the suffering sweeper with disdain, “I was talking to the girl, Vollfied-san. Do not interrupt me…because the next time you do, you won't ever be able to interrupt anyone—again.”
Turning back to Eve, he grasped her chin lightly, but firmly making sure her eyes were on him, the smile back on his lips. “Now where were we?”
The telekinetic bonds on Sven suddenly relaxed, and he instinctively coughed and spluttered as air rushed into his body, giving sweet relief.
A relieved gaze came over Eve, before she looked back at the golden psycho, a cold chill in her eyes. He must be crazy if he thought that she was going to even grace him with an answer, especially after what he just did to Sven.
Llewellyn raised an eyebrow at her silence and sighed lightly, “It's alright if you don't want to talk to me…Eve. Yes, I do know your name. I just wanted to hear your lovely voice.”
Eve rolled her eyes at that pathetic excuse of a pick-up line. Well, two can play at that game. “Well, thank you. But if you know me, you know you can just let me go. I mean, what threat is an adolescent girl like me, to a strong, handsome man like you?”
Llewellyn laughed, “Why thank you Eve, even though my partner is probably going to tell me when this is all over, not to let what you said `go to my head'. However, you and I both know that I cannot release you just yet. Because just like I know your name, I also know what you are, and what you can do. And I, frankly, don't want to get a concussion from getting hit in the head with a mallet, or frying pan, or whatever else you can think to morph yourself into.”
He leaned closer, a strange dangerous spark coming to his eye, “Or maybe…you'd rather just morph your limb into a knife and stab me dead? However, you don't like to kill, do you? I can see it in your eyes. Though you were breed for death, you do your best to not let it touch you. Well…we'll see what I can do about that, won't we Evie?”
Sven didn't care about this madman's warnings, no one was going to look or talk to Eve like this! This guy needed to be in an asylum with all the other serial killers and criminal masterminds. “I told you to stop talking to her! Eve, don't listen to anything he has to say, he's just confusing you.”
Eve mentally rolled her eyes. Of course, stupid! Like she hadn't already figured that out. But then her breath caught in her throat as she looked at the change in Llewellyn's visage. There was pure annoyance, rage, and venom in his eyes as he looked over to Sven.
The sweeper in question, fully expected to feel his ribs cracking and punching holes into his lungs from a telekinetic pressure hold. However, he watched as the dark look passed from the blonde's face, and he instead looked behind him, to his all but forgotten partner. “Dante? Would you be so kind as to—entertain—Vollfied-san, …and of course see to it that he doesn't say a word until I'm ready for him.”
Eve's face flashed deep anguish and anger as she watched the older black-haired man, snap up from the table as if he hadn't been almost asleep with boredom, nonchalantly walk over to Sven. The green-haired lug seemed to stand his ground, despite the fact that he was paralyzed. However, as he stopped just in front of Sven, Dante didn't make a move to punch him, or kick him, or even touch him. He stepped as close to him as he could, definitely too close for comfort, and began speaking silently in Sven's ear, all the while his eyes staring directly into Sven's uncovered one. And Eve wasn't sure, but she thought that she could see his eyes beginning to glow…?
Suddenly, Dante stepped away from Sven, and his eyes were normal (if a little too deep blue in color), but Sven was definitely not. Despite being petrified by Llewellyn's telekinesis, Sven was trembling and shaking like he was being jolted by fifteen-hundred megavolts of electricity! His face was strained and his eye was haunted and terrified, it looked like he wanted to talk, yell, or even scream, but his mouth refused to open and no sound issued from his throat. Tears began to stream down Sven's face, while Dante turned around and sat down once again.
She turned to Llewellyn in rage, “What did he do to him! What's wrong with him!”
He smiled at her patiently as if he were enamored with her face, “Did you know that Sven Vollfied used to be in law enforcement, IBI? Yes, of course you did. He had a partner and best friend named Lloyd Goldwynne, who gave his life to save Vollfied-san. The man practically died in his arms. Can you imagine how much anguish Sven must have felt in those moments? As he felt his friend's blood, his life, pouring from out of countless bullet wounds and onto the cold ground?”
Eve only blinked back at him, not having known the whole story before, but was still saddened even more by knowing the truth. “It must have hurt him deeply.”
The blond nodded thoughtfully, “Yeah, I guess so…well, you see, my partner has quite a talent for persuasion. With just the right words, he can make anyone do or see just about anything he wishes. And I asked if he could just teach Vollfied-san here, some discipline in knowing when to keep his mouth shut. Sooo…right now, Sven is reliving the exact last moments of his former partner's horrible death—over and over and over again, until I finally decide to talk to him…after I finish with you of course.”
Eve didn't know if she had ever felt pure hatred before for anyone, but this one time, against this one guy, she felt a hatred so overwhelming that she could hardly hold it within her. Llewellyn could see it too, but it just helped to arouse him even more, his smile broadening.
She snapped at him furiously, “You monster!”
He turned his head and looked at her from the side questioningly, “Hmm…I thought that was your title?”
She ground her clenched teeth in fierce resentment at what she held as an insult. She hated to look into that man's cold turquoise eyes, but she couldn't turn to the side of her and see the man she had seen for a long time as a father-figure and best friend, silently being emotionally crushed into insanity, just because of a psycho's insane whims.
Llewellyn went closer to her, the tiny stiletto dagger in his hand went against her cheek and sent a long, fine crimson line against her flesh. He watched with delight as she shuddered involuntarily. “You'll soon learn that my title is both similar and completely different than yours. You, unlike me, have a fear of killing. You wish to rebel against the very reason for your creation. Isn't that right Evie-chan?”
Without waiting for her to answer, his telekinesis pulled her closer, and he unrestrainedly licked the side of her face, savoring the taste of her blood. “Don't worry, Evie. I'm quite a master at squashing rebellion, and I'll tell you something else…”
He leaned in even closer, and this time, Eve was sure that his eyes were beginning to glow with luminosity, as he stared directly into her own. His voice was slow and steady, with an underlying edge of pleasure mixed with cruelty. “Walking through walls and moving things with my mind, is not my true power Evie. Tonight, you're going to learn what true power is.”
The bioluminescence of his eyes got even brighter.
“You'll learn why, my title—is Shinigami.”
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By the time Train got within sight of the motel, he was bone tired. Every muscle in his body ached, and he was so hungry, he thought he could eat three horses! Sven was going to so chew him out, for being not one or two hours late, but an entire—
He caught the smell of blood when he was within ten feet of the motel. And it wasn't just a little, the whole place smelled as if it was saturated in it. Hades was in his hand before he even had time to think about it.
As he walked slowly up to the building, he could see that the doors to the main office of the building, as well as to the individual rooms, all stood ajar as if lying on their hinges. Using his talent for sneaking through the shadows, he approached the first room. The place was in complete darkness, but he could easily see as well in the dark as he could in the light. His hand held Hades close to his body, the safety off and ready for just the silent pull of the trigger.
However…what he found inside Room 101, almost made Train drop his famed weapon. He quickly covered his mouth and nose, and pushed the violent nausea back down. He couldn't afford to throw up right now, of all times…
Leaving the scene of carnage, he went to Room 102…then 103…104…105...
By the time he got to the end of the row, at Room 112, Train fell to his knees and vomited up anything and everything that had been inside of him for the past two days. In all his years as an assassin and a sweeper, he had never seen such bloodshed, except for maybe on the battlefield.
In each and every room, had been littered—with bodies! The corpses of each and every guest lay in their rooms, dead—flesh torn and twisted in the most macabre of ways…
Their blood painted the walls and splashed the floors, the bodies of the very young to the very old lay out in some fashion with their life cut out of them with violent brutality. No one had been spared as far as he could see, men, women, children, even infants had all suffered very violent deaths. Arms and legs had been hacked off, torsos torn clean off the abdomens, decapitation, disembowelment, dismemberment…it took all of the strictest training he'd ever received, just to get some semblance of normalcy back into his body…
Standing once again, he breathed in and out slowly, and began moving once again. He had to assume that he would be seeing this kind of bloodbath all over the motel. How could this happen? Who would do something like this? This was even extreme for a serial killer.
Taking a deep breath, Train took out his cell phone. He hit speed dial for Sven, but after a few minutes, snapped the phone closed angrily as he got a “this phone is disconnected” automated message. He'd told that jerk to pay his phone bill. He was so going to chew Sven out for this when he found him! And of course he would find him; it was the only available course of action.
Hurriedly, he dialed Rins' number knowing she was still in the immediate area, and would be able to help (for all the good it did) smooth things over with the authorities, or at least provide him with some back up. However, he experienced a wave of déjà vu as he got the ditsy thief's honey-dripped voicemail message telling her that she would call him back as soon as possible. He put his phone away and closed his eyes in exasperation. That woman…never around when you needed her. She was most likely out on a date with her “Lucky Seven” man, Jenos Hazard. Just the thought of those two together having the time of their lives, while he was sulking around this dump, knee-deep in blood, was enough to make him heave—again. Why didn't those two just get married and stop all this “playing hard to get” stuff? Everyone knew the two were hopelessly in love, and it wasn't like he cared or anything, but seeing the two of them around each other without either one making a move to further their relationship, was frustrating and irritating at best.
Well, since he could just about forget about back-up, he would have to handle things on his own. It wasn't like he hadn't done it before; he was just a little out of practice that was all. And anyway, he didn't have time to be second-guessing himself. Eve and Sven were waiting on him, he was their back up. He smiled slightly as he held Hades to his side; his finger caressed the trigger lightly with toughed familiarity. He was the Black Cat after all, and he did have a reputation to uphold.
Their room could only be accessed from the inside of the motel. Walking stealthily toward the front entrance, the door slightly ajar he slipped into the dark lobby.
Only the street lamp lit his way as he walked, and even with only that dull light he could tell that the once beige carpets were now soaked crimson. Steeling his body and spirit against the smell of carnage and mayhem, he totally ignored the mutilated and maimed body of the bellhops and manager behind the front desk. His movement quick and soundless, he slinked up the stairs, his golden eyes flickering back and forth searching for trouble. He was on a hair-trigger instinct, no matter how very unlikely that the murderer was still on the premises…
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Glowing vermillion eyes stared down from the shadows at the brown-haired young man. He was the Black Cat—that much was known. His real name was on the tip of the tongue, but it mattered not.
The Black Cat moved, which meant he lived.
Nothing could be allowed to live…
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A single drop hit Train's nose as he neared the second floor. He blinked as he looked at it cross-eyed. Rubbing the appendage with the side of his finger, he saw scarlet smear across his skin. More blood? Couldn't he ever get away from the stuff!
Before he could fully clean himself of the offensive liquid, another drop plopped noisily on his face once again.
The two small droplets were the only warning he had…
Train was suddenly knocked off his feet and thrown down the stairs! Thinking on his feet, he looped out his arm to grab onto one of the banister rungs. He staggered to a sudden stop before turning to face his abrupt attacker—only to be slammed into once again! This time sending both him and his assailant over the railing and to the hard floor below!
Landing hard on his back, Heartnet groaned aloud at the jarring of his backbone and ribs, but he quickly moved as his shadowed enemy pounced on top of him from above—bloody, large, shiny, keen blades aimed straight down at him, ready to turn him into a human shish-kebab.
Using Hades to brace off the attack, he tried to use one hand to disarm his foe to no avail. Whoever this guy is, he's strong! I can barely keep him at bay even with both hands!
The sudden sound of helicopter propellers broke through the surrounding silence, as it flew overhead in a rush to get to its destination. For an instant, the copter's spotlight flooded the motel lobby with light, and for a split-second, Train could see the identity of his opponent.
Long, blonde, blood-soaked hair came into view, the damp black clothes that could barely be seen under the red, the pale skin that seemed to be one with weapons that were bearing down on him…and those haunting crimson eyes—those eyes would occupy his dreams for many days to come.
He knew who his adversary was…
That didn't necessarily mean that he believed his own eyes.
A single whisper came from his lips as he gazed unbelievingly at the young woman who was trying to murder him.
“Eve?”