Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Shukumei ❯ Alliance ( Chapter 2 )
[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]
By: Scooda 
Miscellaneous: Original Stories Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Fantasy / Hentai / Comedy | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 02.14.2010 | Updated On: 04.15.2010 | Pages: 1 | Words: 2.5K | Visits: 136 | Status: Work In Progress
Miscellaneous: Original Stories Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Fantasy / Hentai / Comedy | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 02.14.2010 | Updated On: 04.15.2010 | Pages: 1 | Words: 2.5K | Visits: 136 | Status: Work In Progress
Chapter Two
Alliance
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Lily opened her eyes slowly, blinking against the stark sunlight that filtered into the dainty room, and she sat up in confusion, looking around slowly before her memory finally returned to her. Stacey had taken her out of the destroyed house moments before the police arrived, hurrying her out the back door and roughly into a piece of junk she vaguely realized was a jeep before peeling out, not giving her time to steady herself in the seat, or even put on her seatbelt.
She had complained the whole ride. The car stank of cigarettes, his window was down too low, she didn't want to listen to the music he was playing, anything to get her mind off of the fact that seconds ago she was moments from death, and even now she had no idea whether she was safe or on her way to a death much worse than what looked her in the eye in the house they fled from. He gruffly told her to shut up, using his fist to punch the radio and managing to turn it on, and turned it up, drowning her out. His hand slowly went back to the wheel and tightened until his knuckles was white, and she cowered in the corner of the seat, clamping her mouth shut and staring out of the passenger side window.
She hadn't realized she had drifted off to sleep. She vaguely remembered the feeling of floating, and opening her eyes when she was laid down on something soft and smelled of strong clothes detergent. Recognizing it as a bed a second later, she watched as he sat in a large cushioned chair next to the bed and turning on the T.V, mumbling for her to go back to sleep until they had to move again. She was too tired to argue, and before she knew it, her eyes had drifted closed again . . .
She shrugged out of the blanket and stretched her arms over her head, feeling her shoulder protesting the movement, and she grimaced.
"Be careful or you'll open it back up," Stacey called from across the room, looking out of the one small window in the room.
"What time is it?" She whispered her voice still hoarse with sleep.
He glanced at her over his shoulder, a curious glint in his eyes. Seconds ticked by, and she feared that for a moment he wasn't going to answer. Abruptly, he turned on his heel and towards the door, snatching something off of the doorknob and dangling it in front of him.
She gasped and dumbly felt around herself for the pocketbook, even though he was now holding it. "Give it to me," She whispered, near hysteria, feeling tears spring to her eyes.
"Why does a woman with no memory feel the need to walk around armed?" He asked her, grabbing it and opening the flap that held it closed.
"Give it to me!" She said louder, harsher, raising on her knees and beginning to move forward. As he pulled out the two weapons out of the pocketbook she jumped out of the bed, freezing as he allowed the bag to drop and stared at the two weapons in his hand, a weird look crossing his face as he stared at them.
Two gold plated desert eagles in each hand, gleaming magnificently in the light as he turned them this way and that, shooting her a skeptical glance as he suddenly pointed them at the wall, feigning to be aiming at someone in the room. As he turned he noticed something engraved into the side of one of the guns, and he studied it critically, then looking at the gun, seeing something engraved on that gun too.
"Why do you have these?"
She bit her lip and stared at the floor, a blush of anger rising up from her neck into her face, warming her cheeks and forehead. She heard him chuckle and saw him stoop down to pick up the pocketbook, carefully placing the guns back into the bag and holding it out to her. In a flash she snatched it from him and clutched it to her chest, backing away from him, refusing to look away. He stared at her for a moment, and then turned on his heel, heading for the door. "I'm checking out," He told her gruffly, a hint of irritation in his voice making her wince. "Be ready when I get back."
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'What's with the guns?'
He scowled as he stared down at the counter at the desk of the hotel, waiting for the clerk to charge him for the stay. He dropped his room key on the table and left a tip for the man in question as he turned and stalked back towards the elevator, pushing the button to call it and standing with his hands on his hips while he waited.
He hadn't meant to look in the bag in the first place. After she had fallen asleep in the car, he thought against waking her and instead carried her into the hotel, ignoring the smug looks and whispers as she asked for a room for them to share. After he had snatched the key from the hotel clerk without managing to rouse her, he carried her to the room and laid her on the bed as gently he could without disrupting her shoulder. She hadn't stirred.
He went back to the car planning to clean it out and wipe it down for when they abandoned it, and he had been shocked to see her bag sitting on the floor where she had been sitting, forgotten and halfway open. He was cursing her in his mind for being too stupid and thoughtless---what if someone had broken into the car? --- And as he snatched it off of the floor he stopped short and stared at it. Sure he had held it before, but without him worrying about keeping her alive and every part of his body not screaming for him to kill the bastard that destroyed his house; he was able to pay attention to how heavy it really was. So sitting back into the car, he closed the door, not bothering to lock it, and peered in.
What he saw shocked him. She was barely five feet and four inches, with a soft countenance that clearly told him that she had no idea of how to use the guns, or maybe even why she had them. He had intended to ask her where she found them, but her reaction shocked him, the look on her face as he pulled them out and inspected them. For a moment he saw something flash in her that was unlike her, anger hot and fierce that engulfed the whole room, and then he was swept by her anguish that he returned her property to her. Her anxiety erupted a bad taste in the back of his mind, and feeling like a scoundrel he put the guns back in the bag and gave it back to her, and she snatched it from him like he was a traitor, and bastard, and back away from him with a wary glint in her eyes, and at that moment, he hated himself. He had something to take care of, and doing anything to result in her not being able to gain any trust in him was something that he couldn't allow to happen.
Suddenly the bell rang and announced the arrival of the elevator and he stepped inside, ignoring the glance of a young woman staring intently in his face and he pushed the button for the seventh floor. Leaning against the elevator door, he folded his arms across his chest and stared intently ahead. The card she had shown him had drudged up some old memories, but they were something that he hardly thought about now. He had heard of a woman being chased by one of the bounties he had collected, and he went in search for her, thinking maybe she could give him some answers. It wasn't uncommon for a human to be targeted, but the bloodlust for this particular human was extremely unusual. He could feel the rising animosity in the city; could sense the bloodlust erupting to a fevered pitch just at daybreak, and it left him feeling wild and restless. But for him to finally see her fleeing, almost running headlong into him, and sensing that although she was human, she was something else, not like him, but something warring with her human blood, fighting for dominance, and for a few seconds he had succumbed to the pull of her heartbeat, of the drum of her heart, and had nearly lost control so quickly, almost costing both of them their lives.
'So what now?'
Reaching into his long duster, he fingered the sword he stuck into the waistband he had jammed into his pants and felt his scowl deeper. In that moment of hysteria, as his blood pounded red hot throughout his body and he felt himself slowing slipping to the abyss that resides within him, he had managed to form a bond with her, and in the process was giving a sword that radiates with her aura, that's made entirely of his blood. Mixed with his blood, bonded by his body and spirit, the sword had undoubtedly tied them together, and he had absolutely no idea how that had happened. The thought had crossed his mind to simply leave the sword in the car that they were ditching, but he felt a foolish chagrin and a flush of emotion at the very idea and discarded it without a second thought. The sword born of her blood had become a part of him, and he knew he wouldn't ever be able to rid himself of it.
The elevator jerked to a stop and he broke out of his musings, standing straight as it slowly opened and he walked into Lily. She looked up at him through wide eyes, her pocketbook clutched to her chest with one hand, and she used the other to grab his shirt. She was shaking terribly and he placed his hands on her shoulders in an attempt to calm her. Her fear was spiking everywhere, sending his mind in frenzy, and he clenched his teeth. "What---"
"I went for a walk," She rattled out in a trembling voice, her eyes tinged with pure panic despite their lack of emotion, and he found himself pulling her just a little bit closer to him. "And when I came back the room was destroyed!"
He uttered a harsh growl and pulled her with him out of the elevator, keeping his hand locked around her arm and looking around the hallway. "Did you see anyone coming out?"
"No," She whispered harshly, looking around frantically. She clutched his arm with both hands and he looked at her. "Are they after me? Did they follow us?"
He opened his mouth to answer her but suddenly snapped it shut, whipping his head around and staring down the hallway. A man stepped from around the corner, his short red hair cut close to his head and his arm covered in harsh tattoos as he crossed his arm over his chest and stared at them with a smug look on his face. Stacey pushed her behind him and she gave a small sound of dismay, trying to see over his shoulder. "Was it you?" Stacey called to the man down the hallway.
"Was it me that did what?" He answered sarcastically, leaning against the wall. He seemed to be looking at something behind Stacey, and he turned slightly, shielding Lily from his view. The man scowled and stood straight. "Who is she?"
"None of your business," Stacey growled darkly, fingering the hilt of the sword lightly. Although Lily's fear was causing havoc with his sanity, the sword seemed to seep with calm and an easiness that he absorbed greedily, and he found his desire to tear into the man slowly receding until he was left only regarded him with cautiousness, rather than itching for a fight.
The man in question however seemed to be watching the transformation with a concentrated look, his eyes flashing from the sword at his waist to Lily behind him, and he gave an imperceptible nod as he pushed off of the wall, allowing his arms to fall at his side and he turned to face them. He stared at Stacey for a moment, as if he was debating to say something, and finally just shrugged, his palm facing up towards the ceiling. "Will you challenge destiny?"
Stacey blinked. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"Some are meant to live," The red haired man said slowly, looking down his nose at Stacey like he was stupid. With a vengeance the anger flashed back to life in him, and the sword attempting to calm him was futile. "And some were meant to die. Will you challenge that? Are you strong enough to?"
Lily tried to come from behind Stacey, but he stilled her with a soft growl and she chose instead to speak around his shoulder. "What if it wasn't destiny that decided we were to die? What if it was the will of humans? Those who desire the power to play God?"
The man laughed outright, staring at her intently. "Who's to say that isn't fate as well?"
Stacey and Lily's eyes drifted towards each other, locking for seconds as each digested that in silence. Stacey was the first to look away, however when he turned back towards the hallway, the man was gone. Looking around the hallway one last time, Stacey relaxed his stance and turned back to Lily. She was still clutching the shirt on his arm tightly, her knuckles shaking. "We need to go," He told her.
She looked up at him, her gaze blank, and for a second he thought he saw something flash in them, maybe even brightening them before she set her lips and nodded once . . .
But he could've imagined it.
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Alliance
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Lily opened her eyes slowly, blinking against the stark sunlight that filtered into the dainty room, and she sat up in confusion, looking around slowly before her memory finally returned to her. Stacey had taken her out of the destroyed house moments before the police arrived, hurrying her out the back door and roughly into a piece of junk she vaguely realized was a jeep before peeling out, not giving her time to steady herself in the seat, or even put on her seatbelt.
She had complained the whole ride. The car stank of cigarettes, his window was down too low, she didn't want to listen to the music he was playing, anything to get her mind off of the fact that seconds ago she was moments from death, and even now she had no idea whether she was safe or on her way to a death much worse than what looked her in the eye in the house they fled from. He gruffly told her to shut up, using his fist to punch the radio and managing to turn it on, and turned it up, drowning her out. His hand slowly went back to the wheel and tightened until his knuckles was white, and she cowered in the corner of the seat, clamping her mouth shut and staring out of the passenger side window.
She hadn't realized she had drifted off to sleep. She vaguely remembered the feeling of floating, and opening her eyes when she was laid down on something soft and smelled of strong clothes detergent. Recognizing it as a bed a second later, she watched as he sat in a large cushioned chair next to the bed and turning on the T.V, mumbling for her to go back to sleep until they had to move again. She was too tired to argue, and before she knew it, her eyes had drifted closed again . . .
She shrugged out of the blanket and stretched her arms over her head, feeling her shoulder protesting the movement, and she grimaced.
"Be careful or you'll open it back up," Stacey called from across the room, looking out of the one small window in the room.
"What time is it?" She whispered her voice still hoarse with sleep.
He glanced at her over his shoulder, a curious glint in his eyes. Seconds ticked by, and she feared that for a moment he wasn't going to answer. Abruptly, he turned on his heel and towards the door, snatching something off of the doorknob and dangling it in front of him.
She gasped and dumbly felt around herself for the pocketbook, even though he was now holding it. "Give it to me," She whispered, near hysteria, feeling tears spring to her eyes.
"Why does a woman with no memory feel the need to walk around armed?" He asked her, grabbing it and opening the flap that held it closed.
"Give it to me!" She said louder, harsher, raising on her knees and beginning to move forward. As he pulled out the two weapons out of the pocketbook she jumped out of the bed, freezing as he allowed the bag to drop and stared at the two weapons in his hand, a weird look crossing his face as he stared at them.
Two gold plated desert eagles in each hand, gleaming magnificently in the light as he turned them this way and that, shooting her a skeptical glance as he suddenly pointed them at the wall, feigning to be aiming at someone in the room. As he turned he noticed something engraved into the side of one of the guns, and he studied it critically, then looking at the gun, seeing something engraved on that gun too.
"Why do you have these?"
She bit her lip and stared at the floor, a blush of anger rising up from her neck into her face, warming her cheeks and forehead. She heard him chuckle and saw him stoop down to pick up the pocketbook, carefully placing the guns back into the bag and holding it out to her. In a flash she snatched it from him and clutched it to her chest, backing away from him, refusing to look away. He stared at her for a moment, and then turned on his heel, heading for the door. "I'm checking out," He told her gruffly, a hint of irritation in his voice making her wince. "Be ready when I get back."
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'What's with the guns?'
He scowled as he stared down at the counter at the desk of the hotel, waiting for the clerk to charge him for the stay. He dropped his room key on the table and left a tip for the man in question as he turned and stalked back towards the elevator, pushing the button to call it and standing with his hands on his hips while he waited.
He hadn't meant to look in the bag in the first place. After she had fallen asleep in the car, he thought against waking her and instead carried her into the hotel, ignoring the smug looks and whispers as she asked for a room for them to share. After he had snatched the key from the hotel clerk without managing to rouse her, he carried her to the room and laid her on the bed as gently he could without disrupting her shoulder. She hadn't stirred.
He went back to the car planning to clean it out and wipe it down for when they abandoned it, and he had been shocked to see her bag sitting on the floor where she had been sitting, forgotten and halfway open. He was cursing her in his mind for being too stupid and thoughtless---what if someone had broken into the car? --- And as he snatched it off of the floor he stopped short and stared at it. Sure he had held it before, but without him worrying about keeping her alive and every part of his body not screaming for him to kill the bastard that destroyed his house; he was able to pay attention to how heavy it really was. So sitting back into the car, he closed the door, not bothering to lock it, and peered in.
What he saw shocked him. She was barely five feet and four inches, with a soft countenance that clearly told him that she had no idea of how to use the guns, or maybe even why she had them. He had intended to ask her where she found them, but her reaction shocked him, the look on her face as he pulled them out and inspected them. For a moment he saw something flash in her that was unlike her, anger hot and fierce that engulfed the whole room, and then he was swept by her anguish that he returned her property to her. Her anxiety erupted a bad taste in the back of his mind, and feeling like a scoundrel he put the guns back in the bag and gave it back to her, and she snatched it from him like he was a traitor, and bastard, and back away from him with a wary glint in her eyes, and at that moment, he hated himself. He had something to take care of, and doing anything to result in her not being able to gain any trust in him was something that he couldn't allow to happen.
Suddenly the bell rang and announced the arrival of the elevator and he stepped inside, ignoring the glance of a young woman staring intently in his face and he pushed the button for the seventh floor. Leaning against the elevator door, he folded his arms across his chest and stared intently ahead. The card she had shown him had drudged up some old memories, but they were something that he hardly thought about now. He had heard of a woman being chased by one of the bounties he had collected, and he went in search for her, thinking maybe she could give him some answers. It wasn't uncommon for a human to be targeted, but the bloodlust for this particular human was extremely unusual. He could feel the rising animosity in the city; could sense the bloodlust erupting to a fevered pitch just at daybreak, and it left him feeling wild and restless. But for him to finally see her fleeing, almost running headlong into him, and sensing that although she was human, she was something else, not like him, but something warring with her human blood, fighting for dominance, and for a few seconds he had succumbed to the pull of her heartbeat, of the drum of her heart, and had nearly lost control so quickly, almost costing both of them their lives.
'So what now?'
Reaching into his long duster, he fingered the sword he stuck into the waistband he had jammed into his pants and felt his scowl deeper. In that moment of hysteria, as his blood pounded red hot throughout his body and he felt himself slowing slipping to the abyss that resides within him, he had managed to form a bond with her, and in the process was giving a sword that radiates with her aura, that's made entirely of his blood. Mixed with his blood, bonded by his body and spirit, the sword had undoubtedly tied them together, and he had absolutely no idea how that had happened. The thought had crossed his mind to simply leave the sword in the car that they were ditching, but he felt a foolish chagrin and a flush of emotion at the very idea and discarded it without a second thought. The sword born of her blood had become a part of him, and he knew he wouldn't ever be able to rid himself of it.
The elevator jerked to a stop and he broke out of his musings, standing straight as it slowly opened and he walked into Lily. She looked up at him through wide eyes, her pocketbook clutched to her chest with one hand, and she used the other to grab his shirt. She was shaking terribly and he placed his hands on her shoulders in an attempt to calm her. Her fear was spiking everywhere, sending his mind in frenzy, and he clenched his teeth. "What---"
"I went for a walk," She rattled out in a trembling voice, her eyes tinged with pure panic despite their lack of emotion, and he found himself pulling her just a little bit closer to him. "And when I came back the room was destroyed!"
He uttered a harsh growl and pulled her with him out of the elevator, keeping his hand locked around her arm and looking around the hallway. "Did you see anyone coming out?"
"No," She whispered harshly, looking around frantically. She clutched his arm with both hands and he looked at her. "Are they after me? Did they follow us?"
He opened his mouth to answer her but suddenly snapped it shut, whipping his head around and staring down the hallway. A man stepped from around the corner, his short red hair cut close to his head and his arm covered in harsh tattoos as he crossed his arm over his chest and stared at them with a smug look on his face. Stacey pushed her behind him and she gave a small sound of dismay, trying to see over his shoulder. "Was it you?" Stacey called to the man down the hallway.
"Was it me that did what?" He answered sarcastically, leaning against the wall. He seemed to be looking at something behind Stacey, and he turned slightly, shielding Lily from his view. The man scowled and stood straight. "Who is she?"
"None of your business," Stacey growled darkly, fingering the hilt of the sword lightly. Although Lily's fear was causing havoc with his sanity, the sword seemed to seep with calm and an easiness that he absorbed greedily, and he found his desire to tear into the man slowly receding until he was left only regarded him with cautiousness, rather than itching for a fight.
The man in question however seemed to be watching the transformation with a concentrated look, his eyes flashing from the sword at his waist to Lily behind him, and he gave an imperceptible nod as he pushed off of the wall, allowing his arms to fall at his side and he turned to face them. He stared at Stacey for a moment, as if he was debating to say something, and finally just shrugged, his palm facing up towards the ceiling. "Will you challenge destiny?"
Stacey blinked. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"Some are meant to live," The red haired man said slowly, looking down his nose at Stacey like he was stupid. With a vengeance the anger flashed back to life in him, and the sword attempting to calm him was futile. "And some were meant to die. Will you challenge that? Are you strong enough to?"
Lily tried to come from behind Stacey, but he stilled her with a soft growl and she chose instead to speak around his shoulder. "What if it wasn't destiny that decided we were to die? What if it was the will of humans? Those who desire the power to play God?"
The man laughed outright, staring at her intently. "Who's to say that isn't fate as well?"
Stacey and Lily's eyes drifted towards each other, locking for seconds as each digested that in silence. Stacey was the first to look away, however when he turned back towards the hallway, the man was gone. Looking around the hallway one last time, Stacey relaxed his stance and turned back to Lily. She was still clutching the shirt on his arm tightly, her knuckles shaking. "We need to go," He told her.
She looked up at him, her gaze blank, and for a second he thought he saw something flash in them, maybe even brightening them before she set her lips and nodded once . . .
But he could've imagined it.
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