Neon Genesis Evangelion Fan Fiction / Gundam Wing Fan Fiction / Bubblegum Crisis Tokyo 2040 Fan Fiction / Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Clandestine ❯ Remembering Tokyo ( Chapter 1 )

Heero raised the cup to his lips. The sweet aroma of coffee poured into his nostrils, and it was enough to wake his senses. The sky glowed with the dying embers of the sun, but the streets of downtown Tokyo were already teeming with mortals hungry for flashing neon lights.

At this time, Heero thought to himself, the back alleys would already be filling up with the usual vagabonds, thieves and murderers. Setting the cup down, he took his leave of the sidewalk café and slipped into the crowd. His hands were warm enough now. It was high time he warmed the rest of his body with the heat of mortal blood.

He took his fill slowly, biding his time whilst savoring the exquisite taste of his victims. It was more of a game, Heero believed, a game he and his kind had been playing since the dawn of creation. To take would be to win, and in winning comes the satisfaction of primal desires. Yes, it was bloodlust. That and the hunger. Armand had mentioned that with the passing of the centuries, the hunger would lessen and maybe cease to exist. But the desire would never go away. Never.

Heero sliced through the crowds with the casual grace of a predator. His silk black Armani suit earned him quite a number of nonchalant looks. Heero didn't mind them at all. Their thoughts were one and the same…lust. Out of curiosity, he had experimented one night long ago; perhaps that was a couple of years since his 'demise'. He was young, feisty and so caught up in unraveling his newfound unearthly abilities. Armand had to drag him out of clubs in his drunken stupor for weeks. He learned his lesson the hard way- by his maker's hand.

A young hooker espied this young man walking down the alley towards her. She had gone out the back to smoke, having just gone down on her fourth customer. She silently thanked her lucky stars that her fifth was this gorgeous guy oozing with sex appeal.

He lifted a gloved hand to touch her cheek. She giggled and twirled a lock of her curly brown hair. He flashed a quick smile before he proceeded to neck her. Blood rushed up to her cheeks, she had never felt so…good! She reached up to rake his brown hair, all slick and suave as she gently massaged his nape and urged him to go on. Heero obliged.

The bite was accompanied with a little yelp, and ended with a small gurgling sound. Blood was flowing from her lips, the pressure of his suction too much for her small throat. Her eyes remained wide open in shock, but there was still that blush on her cheeks. Heero licked his lips. He pulled his black shades down the bridge of his nose and quickly scanned the body for 'unexplainable' bruises with his cold, cobalt eyes. There were none. Taking out a Swiss knife, he made a small cut at the tip of his index finger and gingerly let a few droplets leak onto the bite marks. In an instant, they vanished. Dusting the non-existent dirt off his suit, he made his way back into the main streets. Sweet, he thought, but not sweet enough.

"Conceited," a deep, almost guttural voice muttered from beside him. Looking to his right, Heero came face to face with a young woman, about 23 and in a tight black leather bodysuit. Perhaps, the only salvation in her outfit was the red leather windbreaker she had put over. Her long brown hair was in artful disarray, gone shaggy from the frequent highway cruises on her beloved bike. If Heero was surprised, he was extremely good at covering it up. "Good evening, Priss." The curt nod from her signaled for the two to start walking.

Priss scowled-a completely human expression she had retained in immortality. Heero chuckled mentally. The least of their kind that he expected to retain some form of humanity was this woman. As of now, she was more human than him. "The coven demands your presence." Priss said, her voice flat and grim. "I'm a bounty hunter, Heero, not a messenger." Heero shrugged sympathetically. "They are fools to make you the go-between." "Damn right! If I had a choice, I wouldn't have known you in the first place." Priss said, her tone icy and callous. Heero wasn't the least bit moved. "Sure thing."

"Go to Fujimiya." Priss said, handing Heero a card. She swung her legs across the metal rail and let her hair flow with the wind. "The hunter...?" Heero asked, eyeing the card. A phone number was written on it, as well as the name 'Weiss Kreuz'. One side told him that he'd rather not involve mortals in the fray, but the other stressed the fact that he wouldn't regret having a few very annoying immortals off his case. After a couple of seconds to weigh his options, he decided to make Priss smile. "Acknowledged," said Heero and Priss did not disappoint him at all. "He'll help. You can trust him," she said, a small grin gracing her pale features.

Having considered the conversation over, she leaped off the building in a graceful freefall before landing on her feet seven floors below. Heero took his leave when he heard the roar of a bike exiting the building.

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Trust, Heero thought. In his vocabulary, the word was a mere farce-an exaggerated, abused, deceptive farce. And the word had gained him love. Or was it, there is no love without trust? He trusts Armand and Armand loves him. He loves Armand and Armand trusts him…

Heero still vividly remembered that fateful night. The night which was the first of the foreplay, the game. He had been wandering for some months then…broken, confused, undecided. At the climax of the Marimeia incident, when Relena had embraced him, he had thought he felt love for her. Or was it love? As he thought of it now, the feeling was more of an obligation, a payment for all his debts. Relena had loved him with carefree abandon, he knew, but what about him? Did he love her with equal freedom? Did he even have a choice?

Heero shook his head. That life was meant to be forgotten. After all that Armand had taught him, he could never bring himself to regret his…change. What's more is that, he never felt that he owed Armand anything. He felt that he loved Armand, and that the immortal returned his love too.

The first time he saw his beloved's face was when he had gone to Russia. Such a pale figure, with the most beautiful indigo eyes framed by a halo of gold. Armand was a vision, a vision of an angel from heaven come to take him away from his mortal coil. Heero hadn't realized then what kind of emotions he was harboring and so, in his bewilderment, he rushed off to his apartment. The next day, he had found himself stepping off the Los Angeles airport and intent on forgetting about Russia. The tropical feel of California would help him, he was certain. It was a little later when he found out that his false hopes were meant to be shattered. He had spotted that angelic face again, at a cafeteria this time.

He knew then, more by instinct than anything else, that escape was impossible. Was it true then, that the angel of death had finally come for him? He had gone to the park by the beach that night, confident that the face would reveal himself. Sure enough, Armand had appeared. His blonde hair was trimmed in boyish fashion, adding youth to his features. His eyes, a deep sapphire, had however betrayed the wisdom of age. At once, Heero had found the creature beautiful. In no way was this human, he discerned almost immediately, but he threw caution away to the wind. Slowly, he found himself enveloped in the immortal's embrace.

"I know you, perfect soldier," Armand had whispered in his ear. Heero felt a tingly sensation on his neck as the vampire nibbled at his skin. A small sting, nothing more, as Armand took a sip of his blood. Then, as if it was all just a dream, Heero had found himself alone. The thunder of the crashing waves was overpowered by the pounding rhythm of his heart.

He had been going to the park for several nights after that, frustrated by an odd thirst. He would often walk on the shore, the salty air sweeping away his dark brown unruly bangs. A great depression and an even greater longing had driven him to the place, hoping that the angel would come back and finish the task. Days passed, then finally a week, but no sign of the mysterious creature had been made known to him. During those days he had entertained thoughts about the young man-of just how young he looked, about 17, and of his deep voice full of wisdom and caution…his deliverer.

It was one early morning, just before dawn when Heero had returned to his apartment to find that his things were in a mess. The few books that he owned were littered on the floor and his meager wardrobe scattered across the room. His laptop though, was blinking furiously and that could only mean one thing.

"Dr. J."

A mission, Heero, and you better believe it. I have been observing you for the past months and you apparently are in a great distress. Perhaps peace on earth was never meant for you, perfect soldier. Then, accept my offer to be of services to me. Come to 31-4 warehouse on Taffeta block, if you wish.

Heero quickly scanned the message, unconsciously gritting his teeth. So, the old crone was alive! Of course, he knew, but he had so wished that J had stayed dead!

"Damn!" He muttered under his breath, a thin sheen of sweat covering his body. Why does he feel nervous about all this? Was it some sort of transition? Was he afraid?

It was then that two strong hands had seized his arms and pinned him firmly in place. Heero knew it was him. He could 'feel' that it was him. There was uncanny warmth this time in his hands, though his touch had been cold the other night. Armand had planted a kiss on Heero's throat, right on the spot he had bitten.

"What do you desire?" His voice had been barely audible, like a seductive whisper. Heero had closed his eyes and told the creature that he was beautiful, and that he loved him. Perhaps, there was slight surprise in Armand. Heero could only guess. But from that moment on, a trust was formed between the two and, more importantly, a bond that led to the chase.

When dawn finally arrived, Heero headed out to warehouse 31-4 to accept Dr. J's offer. He would be an assassin, a government-hired spy for the most clandestine operations at day. And at night? Well, Heero took pleasure in knowing that he was both the hunter and the hunted.

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"Wish you were here," Heero mumbled softly, musing to himself. Had Armand showed up, would he be in this kind of fit? He knew of Armand's whereabouts, of course, but nothing can make him betray his love. Going to this 'vampire hunter', Ran Fujimiya, is certainly the last straw of his patience. At least, Heero thought to himself, he would be able to get rid of that pesky coven once and for all for both their sakes. However, the frown on his face somehow hinted that it was just the tip of the iceberg.