Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Ashes, Ashes, We All Fall Down ❯ Scarlet Tears ( Chapter 3 )

Ashes, Ashes, We All Fall Down

Scarlet Tears

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'I Hate Everything About You'

Written and owned by Three Days Grace

Everytime we lie awake

after every hit we take

every feeling that get

but I haven't missed you yet

Every roommate kept awake

by every sigh and scream we make

all the feelings that I get

but I haven't missed you yet

Only when I stop to think about it

I HATE EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU

WHY DO I LOVE YOU

Everytime we lie awake

after every hit we take

every feeling that get

but I haven't missed you yet

I HATE EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU

WHY DO I LOVE YOU

Only when I stop to think

about you, I know

only when you stop do think

about me, do you know

you hate everything about me, why do you

love me

Author's note: Inspiration to this chapter, which surprisingly came to me once I had finished this.

This chapter is also much longer than I anticipated, so enjoy! ^___^

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It was hardly a mission, in my personal opinion. More like babysitting.

I bit back any thoughts or sounds of annoyance, leaning back against the wall while casually running over the small group of pompous arrogant politicians that I had been sent to watch over, making sure that they survived through the night without getting a knife through their greedy black heart.

I had certainly caught all of their interest when I had arrived. After leaving my black trenchcoat on the chair beside me I didn't deign any visibly reaction towards the appraising stares taking in my leather pants and sleeveless leather shirt. Silver buckles trailed down the front and sides of my pants, even cutting across the top of my mid-calf boots. Dark black sleeves that were cut off from my main shirt traveled snuggly from below my armpit down to above my elbow on each arm, a bare patch of skin from my inner arms down to my wrists until the thin leather gloves came into picture. On the opposite side of my inner arms were thick leather wrist sheaths that hid thin metal blades, two small yet strong straps keeping the sheaths tight pressed to my outer arms.

Thank gods the leather was breathable otherwise I would be roasting, not that I particularly cared for the way the leather molded against me. The small advantage was the large one-piece black sunglasses that I wore over my eyes, not allowing anyone to see that I was unobtrusively scanning the room for any targets.

I sighed and flicked out the small thin blade out of the thin sheathe against my left him, casually turning it between my fingers.

It was a simple solo mission, yet for some reason I felt on edge, the fidgeting with my weapon a clear sign of my inner worries.

Probably didn't help with my little incident with 'Mastermind' two days ago.

//That's right…Call him Mastermind…makes it more impersonal...// I thought numbly to myself.

It was probably for the best that whatever memories I once had did not remain once I had thrown Mastermind out of my mind. However, there were brief flashes of pictures; faces, places, and familiar words uttered, all coming to me like a blurry picture through the static hiss of a broken television screen.

//Forget about it…forget about the past or whatever it all is…you're better off..// I growled to the small part of me that shivered in confusion and regret over the broken fragments images of a past life that seemed too distant to ever be remotely connected to the present.

I ran my hand absentmindedly along my inner right arm, distantly feeling along the smooth white scar that ran along the soft skin. A sharp sting jolted me out of my inner musing. I glanced down, realizing I had caused a small thin cut along my arm, the crimson thread of blood tracing along the smooth thin scar that was just as thin and long as the fresh cut was.

//The Doctor will be mad when he hears about this. He'll think I've gone back to cutting myself again// I thought dispassionately.

It was true, sadly. For some reason I couldn't recall, in the first few months of my arrival into Rot I had for some reason tried to commit suicide. I had laid open my inner right arm from wrist to elbow, and judging by the scar, had nearly succeeded in ending my life. Claude had supposedly found me in time to get me to the Doctor. Strangely, though, I couldn't remember much about the first few months I was with Rot. It was all a mere blank, an endless white stretch of land laid out in my mind with no end in any direction.

'Memories best forgotten,' As Claude had put it when I had asked him about the scar, leaving me with that vague answer.

//Best to keep them buried// I sneered lightly as the numerous men, young and old, laughed and danced around one another with false words of praise and empty alliances, drunk on power and gorging themselves on the food, wine, and women that were scattered aplenty throughout the room. //There are few individuals here that I wouldn't mind burying either so that their stink wouldn't be permeating this room so bad. Gods, makes me sometimes regret having empathy since I wouldn't have to deal with listening to their words and feeling their disgusting emotions//

'Vincent…' Claude called to me silently, his words dispensing my idle daydreaming.

//What is it?//

'The Doctor has a mission. He wants one of the politicians' dead. The particular politician has become a nuisance towards the Doctor's interests.'

Ahh, so there had been a hidden motive to send me on this mission.

Well now, this made it interesting.

//Who?// I asked, beginning a lazy and unnoticeable scan of the room, searching out my target.

'Hige Matsumo.' Claude answered, sending a brief image of the man to my mind.

It didn't take me long to find the man within the room, one of the most ugliest and disgusting humans I have ever had to lay eyes upon. Physically he didn't look so bad. He was of medium height and well within his late fifties with a stomach pouch extending out to stretch taut against the front of his suit. His facial cheeks were puffy and tinged pink as he laughed uproariously, soft brown eyes hidden as he threw his head back to laugh at some inane joke another politician had made. A woman not even half his age hung off of his shoulder giggling hollowly, her black hair piled elaborately on top of her head and red spaghetti-strap dress cut dangerously low to reveal the upper mounds of her porcelain-white breasts. The bottom of her dress revealed long slim legs down to fragile ankles with bright gold straps wrapping from mid-ankle down to her high heels.

What made me ill was to 'see' and 'feel' the black cloud of emotion nearly saturating Hige's person, reeking of malice and such sickening animosity that it nearly made me wretch, the images of his true ferocity ringing painfully through my head.

The man had killed five young adults, four women and one men, raping and torturing them once after luring them to his home with promises of a nice home, expensive clothes, and prestige among the elite society.

The victims were lucky to die within forty-eight hours. That is, if the intense shock from the burns, cuts, and acid hadn't killed them in thirty-two hours.

The young woman hanging off of his arm was probably going to be victim number six by one a.m. tomorrow morning.

//Foolish girl,// I thought dispassionately, //you have no idea that you're fondling a murderer//

'Forget the little whore' Claude warned, 'In case you haven't seen yet, the girl participated in the killing of the last two victims that Hige buried within his estate. She quite enjoyed it, nearly getting off on the victims' pain.'

I felt a small dose of nausea, //And how did you come by this knowledge?//

Claude chuckled darkly within my head, 'You know the saying 'Dead men tell no tells'?'

//Yes//

'Not so true. Hige should really learn to cut the tongues out of his victims before or after he disposes of them. Otherwise his victims make for such wonderful storytellers.'

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My patience helped out in the end. I waited until Hige and his woman had finally left the party, standing out in front of the building waiting for their car to be brought up front. Hige accepted the keys from with hardly a 'thank you', not even opening the passenger door for the young woman before nearly shooting out of his parking place.

I followed at a discrete distance, latching onto Hige's familiar stink, using my empathy to leave a cord of power to follow his movements. I wove through pedestrians, barely touching them as I ran faster then their eyes could follow, weaving a illusion with my empathy to make them feel or hear the wind passing by them and not the dark assassin moving stealthily by.

To even better fortune the car was now travelling down a lone deserted stretch of highway, no other cars or pedestrians around for miles, Hige's estate nearly ten miles away.

Perfect.

The car groaned and the people inside squealed in fear when I dropped down onto the hood of the moving car, lashing out with the same weapon I had used to cut myself earlier, the blade easily slicing through the metal hood of the car. After cutting two large parallel gashes and a third cut that connected the two slashes to form a rough three-sided rectangular cut I resheathed the blade and dug my hands into the open wounds of the car. The leather gloves protected me from injury as I uncaringly peeled back the hood of the car, opening the moving automobile as if I were a young child eagerly searching out the small prizes hidden within a large piece of candy.

And there were my prizes, huddled and screaming shrilly, Hige somehow remarkably keeping the wheel in place and the car going at fifty miles per hour even while he looked up at me with sheer terror in his eyes, taking in the demon above that was tearing its way into their useless metal haven.

Without a care I reached forward and grabbed the woman, pulling her up and out of the moving car by the back of her dress, her futile kicking causing me to nearly rip a large chunk out of her expensive dress.

I was about to achieve one of the most important rules: leave no witnesses.

Ignoring her screams I flung her up and over me, dismissing the sharp crunch of a broken body hitting pavement at fifty miles per hour. Hige howled in protest, but I ignored him, looking back and making sure that the body stayed where it lay upon the road, glad that I wouldn't have to backtrack and return to finish the woman off later.

Don't be so shocked. The woman was an eager accomplice in two murders. She would die sooner or later.

Somehow Hige found the strength to hit the breaks, nearly sending me flying off the hood of the car if I hadn't managed to catch a strong grip on damaged front part of the hood, my body coming down and smashing hard into the windshield, the shatter-proof glass bending and cracking beneath my weight. The car spun wildly as Hige finally roared to a frantic stop, practically tearing the door off of its hinges as the coward fled, crashing through a nearby private stretch of trees and land. I followed at a comfortable gait, no having to push myself, the pig's racket easily leading me to where he was going.

//Claude// I called, throwing the message towards my partner, //He'll be there in thirty seconds. Is it ready?//

'Finished it an hour ago. I'll be waiting for you at the Doctor's once you finish your job.' Claude answered, pleased with the job he had done and eagerly anticipating Hige's reaction to his little surprise not too far up ahead.

Not to my disappointment a horrified shout and a yelp of pain alerted me that Hige had found his little 'gift'.

I walked the last few meters to where Hige was at, stopping at the edge of the large rectangular pit dug well over eight feet deep.

Claude did very well. There was no way for Hige to ever manage to claw his way out of the deep grave.

And claw the man did, seeming to try to tear chunks out of the soil around him. It wouldn't work, though, the soil on the sides were as thick as clay. There was no way out, especially with the way his leg was injured from his fall into the grave He was lucky if it wasn't broken already.

I moved lazily towards the large pile of dirt off to the side, picking up the metal shovel and heaving a large chunk of dirt into the open grave.

"What are you doing?!" Hige demanded pitifully, sputtering and choking over the dirt that had landed on his head and face, ruining his nice new suit.

"I'm burying some filth." I answered dryly, easily heaving another large section of dirt into the grave.

"Please! I'll paying you anything!" Hige begged fearfully, the dirt slowly rising around him.

"I bet you said that to all the women and men whoever came to you, right before you raped, tortured, and murdered them." I said snidely.

"You're a monster!" Hige choked, trying to kick his way free from the dirt that was past his waist and slowly burying his legs.

"Wrong," I answered numbly, "I'm a demon."

It took only six more minutes until Hige's screams were muffled by over four feet of dirt. From there it only took four more minutes to fill in the grave and dispose of the evidence.

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//I hate this place// I thought listlessly, my footsteps echoing throughout the steel-toned hallways, void of any personal touches to give a hint of any human presence. Stainless steel doors were speckled here and there randomly along the walls, all with a large printed number in the middle stenciled in blood red. There was also sometimes a small name plate attached to several doors, but most of the name plates were so worn and dirty that it was obvious that the rooms had been abandoned for whatever means suited the Doctor's wishes.

I soon arrived in front of the lone door at the end of the hallway. This was the only door that had any sort of name stenciled along the front, although we were forbidden to speak the Doctor's true name aloud.

Doctor Fujimi Miroku

Straightening my shoulders and with a deep steadying breath I carefully and deliberately knocked on the door, my knuckles rapping softly against the thick metal.

"Come in." The Doctor ordered gruffly. I couldn't hold back a cringe, knowing by the tone of his voice that the Doctor was for some reason in a sour mood. I carefully eased my way into the room, closing the door behind me with a soft click. I caught the Doctor's silhouette from the chair in the middle of the room, a computer screen glowing with a metallic-blue tinge of color, a long series of numbers and symbols tallied across the screen. The large chair in front of the computer terminal turned around to face me, the Doctor sitting casually within it with his hand steepled in front of his face, elbows resting on his uppermost knee of his crossed legs. Emotionless steel-gray eyes bore into mine, the Doctor's fine short white hair adding the coldness and emptiness of his face, the lines underneath his eyes and along his sunken cheeks making him appear more like a corpse.

"Come here, Vincent." The Doctor commanded, extending one long-fingered hand towards me. With a small amount of hesitation I inched forward, coming well within an arm's length of the Doctor. I dropped down onto my knees, leaning forward and laying my head upon the Doctor's knees as he uncrossed them to accommodate me. A cool and surprisingly soft hand rubbed along the top of my head, winding long tendrils of brunette strands between his fingertips.

"You cut yourself." The Doctor said simply, getting straight to the point, not having to see the thin streak of blood that remained from the healed over cut.

"I'm sorry." I said sincerely, meekly raising my arm so that the Doctor could inspect the crusted trail of blood and the thin white scar alongside it. With a small patient sigh the Doctor tugged softly at my hair, wordlessly urging me up and into his lap. The chair was large enough to hold us both without any strain, my legs folded comfortably between its broad arms. Even though the Doctor was well over twice my age he was noticeably taller and bigger than I was, making it easy for me to fit within his lap. I laid my head against his shoulder, feeling strangely hollow and unmindful of the hand that patted the top of my head. "You must learn to control yourself, Vincent. Lack of control has undone stronger men than yourself."

"I will." I answered openly.

Several minutes of heavy silence hung around us until the Doctor spoke again. "You must avoid the Berserker at all cost."

"Hai."

"That creature disgusts me. He threatens to ruin everything I have worked for. My whole life has revolved around my work." The Doctor rested his chin on top of my scalp. "You are my perfect creation, Vincent. I made you what you are, freeing you of the wasteful emotions that only blinded you from reality's cruel and honest truths. You are the perfect killing machine, Vincent. Without rage, sorrow, regret, ego, or even pain, there is no one who can compare to you." A tinge of pride flowed within the Doctor's words, but I knew better than to think that the worst was over by far.

The Doctor's next words assured me of the truth of my theory. "Remember this, Vincent. If you allow your emotions to blind you when you are in the heat of battle, I will return you to The Hole. You remember that place, don't you? I may also have to rely on more physical needs to remind you of the punishment of disappointing me." The Doctor said without a hint of caring or thought as to how his words affected me, speaking in a casual tone as if he were discussing the weather. I felt my heartbeat quicken at the thought of returning to The Hole, a soundless, light-less room where an individual would be left for weeks if not months at a time with a simple lavatory and obsolete mode of washing. There was no human contact, not even when food and water were brought in once a day, slid in through a small crack at the bottom of the door that could only be opened from the outside.

And then came the screams…Gods, the screams……..

After almost two weeks of silence a speaker system would release an endless mantra of humans and animals screaming and dying, numerous and horrible sounds of destruction until a person's minds went insane from suffering through the horrific noise. After enough exposure to such type of torture, a person's mind would shut down and become numb, free of emotion, hiding away the pain so as to not suffer again from the hell that was The Hole.

The physical torture nearly equaled the fear of The Hole. While the Doctor certainly left his 'patient' alive, the utensils and means of torture he would use, both physical and mental, were enough to make someone promise anything in order to be freed from the seemingly non-ending pain.

I swallowed down the heavy burning sensation in my throat, answering the Doctor's inquiry with a small timid nod.

"Good boy." The Doctor said in a stiff congratulatory tone, "I always knew you weren't as stupid as you looked." The Doctor shifted minutely, his attention directed to another person's silhouette just in front of the door. "Claude." The Doctor greeted solemnly.

Claude stepped forward into the light provided for the center of the room, his gaze blank of any visible emotion, shoulders stiff as he bowed in greeting to the Doctor. Only his hair shimmered within the available light since he was dressed in his assassin gear that was a complete match to mine.

It surprised me immensely, the emotions churning around the Necromancer. There was a large cloud of annoyance, disgust, and a small thread of…jealousy? Was Claude upset with me? Or was he upset with the Doctor?

No, it couldn't be. Claude has no reason to feel any of those emotions towards the Doctor. The Doctor is our leader; Claude is the second highest power next to the Doctor. It just didn't make any sense why Claude was so furious.

"There will be another mission taking place tomorrow night. I need Vincent to kill an individual who is being transported to a maximum-security prison. The individual has some incriminating information that can be used against me. While Vincent takes care of the target," The Doctor nudged me in the side, urging me to my feet, "you will be gathering information on the other side of town. The information you will be gathering is of dire importance to me, especially the chemical formulas that I must acquire." The Doctor gazed thoughtfully in Claude's direction. "I can trust you with this assignment, can I not?" He asked dispassionately.

Claude did not reply, merely bowed his head in acknowledgement, eyes never leaving the Doctor's. I followed the Necromancer as he spun around effortless with a sharp snap of cloth and strode for the door, following the taller man and closing the door softly behind me.

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"Why were you so angry earlier?" I asked curiously, looking up at Claude through long strands of loose hair. Even now once we had returned to the safehouse Claude was still visibly upset, shoulders rigid and eyes blazing. Sensing his inner turmoil I had moved towards him and sat down on the floor near his feet, resting my cheek on his thigh, offering whatever comfort I could.

Claude sighed, cupping my face between his hands, tilting my head back so that I may look up at him from an entirely different angle. The sharp angle though demanded that I rise up to avoid a crick in my neck so I soon found myself straddling Claude's lap, looking down at him from my slightly elevated position. For some strange reason the way we sat reminded me of how it was earlier with the Doctor, although it was for an entirely different reason. With the Doctor it was a means to show him my obedience and submission; for Claude it was an act of comfort and a ways to better understand the Necromancer's inner dilemma.

"I hate seeing you in his arms." Claude whispered bitterly, his thumbs moving up and down along my cheekbones. I tilted my head, piqued by Claude's sudden animosity that surrounded him, not sure who exactly such intense emotion was directed. "Are you angry at me for complying to his demands?" I murmured.

"No." Claude hissed, his arms suddenly around me and hugging me to him, pressing his face against the center of my chest. Not sure as to what to do I wrapped my arms around his neck, trying to steady myself from the way I was pressed up against him. "I'm not angry with you, Vincent."

"Then what is it? I'm an empath, Claude. I can only read your emotions and possibly a few specific thoughts." I implored, unsuccessfully trying to tilt Claude's face upward so that he would look at me.

"I hate him." Claude grunted coldly.

"The Doctor? Why?" Claude's admittance to hating his superior surprised me.

"That insolent pig. He thinks he owns and controls us. We are the superiors, not him. And the way he always touches you when he knows I'm watching. He only wishes to upset me." Claude hissed.

"If that is true, then he is doing a good job. Don't let him affect you so, Claude. He is our leader. I do not know about you, but I was taught to follow his every order. I know no other logic other than to follow the leader of Rot. That is my most important command." I said, trying to encourage Claude to at listen to that truth that I accepted with utmost loyalty.

"If what you say is true…..then what would you do if I killed the Doctor? Would you follow me?" Claude's soft demand jolted me. I couldn't even comprehend or understanding the act of possibly assassinating the Doctor, let alone the thought of causing any sort of physical harm to the older man. Claude's grip tightened around me and I swallowed as the Necromancer's strength portrayed itself as he held me effortless within his arms nearly completely off of his lap, his electric blue eyes piercing steadily into mine as I braced my hands upon his shoulders. "I am second in command, Vincent. If the Doctor was to die, then you would have no choice but to follow me."

"You speak of treason." I whispered in soft dawning realization.

"I speak of freedom!" Claude snarled, suddenly twisting and forcing me down onto my back, hovering over me on all fours. My wrists were caught and trapped over my head within a strong tight grip, Claude's face mere inches from mine. "I won't hurt you like the Doctor does, Vincent. I would protect and cherish you. Why can't you let go of your devotion to that man?!" Claude demanded, his eyes swimming to the brim with molten liquid power that threatened to spill over and wash throughout the room.

"I already told you," I said calmly, looking up at Claude with complete honesty, trying to silent plead for him to reconsider his future plans, "I was taught to fear and obey the Doctor. That is the primary teaching that the Doctor first used upon me. There is nothing else I know other than that, Claude. I can't fight what I am 'programmed' to do."

"And you seem to forget that I am beyond the Doctor's control." Claude's smile was particularly vicious. "He may have raised me from birth, but he was never my father. That man has never controlled me even from the very first day I opened my eyes."

"He is your creator." I whispered timidly.

"And I will be his destroyer." Claude countered.

"….And me? What will you do once you have killed the Doctor? Will you kill me if I am unable to follow you?" I questioned hesitantly, for once not knowing if I could honestly trust the Necromancer with my safety.

Claude removed one of his hands from my wrist, trailing his fingertips along my bottom lip and over the top of my eyelids. "I would never kill you, Vincent. But if you will not follow me willingly, there are other means of persuasion." Claude promised.

"You would hurt me-like the Doctor did?" I whispered hoarsely.

"Don't compare me to him." Claude snarled in warning. "I would never beat you bloody to force you into submission, but I will certainly restrain and restrict you until you beg to be set free, promising your utter loyalty."

"So you won't bleed me or break me, you'll just rape my mind until there is nothing left." I said, crushed by the thought of more pain, even more than I had suffered within the last year of my life.

"Never. I would never harm you physically or sexually."

"You say that, but how can I trust that you'll live up to that promise?" I asked, turning my head away, unable to look up at the man above me who demanded my utmost loyalty yet such devotion lay with another man's grasp.

Claude's extended silence worried me and I glanced up nervously from the corner of my eye.

"I will prove it to you." Claude vowed, and before I could utter another word a howling wind roared around us and Claude disappeared, leaving behind only the scent of blood and soil, the room suddenly more cold and much more still than I had ever remembered.

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The man that the Doctor sent me to kill was protected by hardly any security. I found him and his hideout easily, getting rid of the two guards with ease. I carefully traced my way through the maze of hallways, finding myself traveling deeper underground, down far below to the level of the building used to contain the prisoner.

His room suited his future. A large cell door came into light, small dangling lightbulbs upon the ceiling lighting the way to the door, the last two bulbs closest to the cell door inexplicably broken, small white shards littering the floor. I stepped carefully over and around the shards of glass, not wanting to alert the target to my presence. The prisoner lay with his back to me, wearing an oversized pair of gray prison clothes, slumped across the thin cot opposite of the closed cell door, limbs dangling loosely across the thin padding separating him from the cool surface of the floor.

I silently picked the lock, pushing the cell door inward, moving stealthily into the ten by fifteen feet room. Suzou Masa, age twenty-seven, accused of attempted manslaughter and fifteen thefts including hacking into secure computer programs. No wonder the Doctor wanted him dead. The man must have hacked into the Doctor's secure files that described his various undergoing projects, projects that were legal as well as projects that were illegal.

And one of those projects just happened to be me. Ironic that the Doctor's creation was sent out to destroy an individual with the potential to ultimately destroy me.

I moved closer to the man lying on the floor, scanning his mind with my empathy. How strange. I sensed absolutely nothing. No emotions, no thoughts, no sadness, anger, or happiness. There was nothing at all around him. Just a cold and empty air that surrounded and permeated his whole body. I reached forward, my hand closing over his shoulder. There was no response, the cold aura around him seeming to seep in through my skin as I tightened my grip to flip him over onto his back. Gods, the cold, both physical as well and emotional. It was like the man was totally numb, like he was-

I bit back a sharp cry of surprise as I flipped the man over, dead open glazed eyes staring sightlessly back at me. A thin tendril of blood snaked out of the corner of Suzou's mouth, pooling in the hollow of his neck. I hissed silently at the sight of the thin blade protruding out of the area where his heart lay, the blade and hilt completely coated with a thick layer of blood, Suzou's body curled around the weapon that had ultimately killed him.

Fuck! I backed away, releasing the dead man's shoulder so that he slumped back onto the cot. Well, lookes like my job had already been dealt with. It was just a mattering of determining who had performed the killing.

"Hello, Angel." A chill shot up my spine as I recognize that voice. I turn halfway, facing the direction where the open door stood. A body dropped down from the ceiling where the individual had been using the shadows to hide himself away, somehow cloaking his physical body as well as his mind. The Berserker rose out the crouch he fell into from dropping loose from the ceiling, blocking the only entrance and exit into the room. I hid most of my shock fairly well, taking in the short blaze of white hair and the eye-patch that thankfully covered that demonic eye that the man possessed.

I reacted instantly in an effort to drive him back. I bent down and grasped a large handful of Suzou's shirt, lifting him completely off of the cot, throwing the dead corpse straight at the Berserker, hoping to force him to move away from my only exit.

My ploy didn't work. The Berserker took a seemingly casual step to the side, letting the body fly past and crash into the ground in a mass of loose dangling limbs outside the cell, the pale man stepping back to cut off my one exit. The entire motion of attacking the Berserker and for him to shift out of the way took not even four seconds of time.

With a slow calm move the Berserker reached to the side, grasping the edge of the cell door, and closed it shut behind him.

So now I was trapped like a rat. Perfect. Fucking perfect.

The Berserker wasted no time in rushing me. I barely managed to move out of the way, falling against the cell adjacent to where I had last been standing. The man's left hand whipped towards my head in a fast arc of motion and I felt the air whistle across my face as I twisted away and out of his immediate reach.

The man's body seemed to twist impossibly and he spun towards me, hands gripping tight around my shoulders before he slammed me full-force into the floor. I choked softly as all the air in my lungs escaped me, my spine nearly groaning in pain from the sharp force of being smashing against cold concrete. I gasped weakly for air and pushed fleetingly against the Berserker's shoulders although I may have been pushing against a wall since the shock of hitting the ground appeared to have sapped all of my strength out of my body.

"Weak." The Berserker said coldly, legs straddling my hips as he trapped my wrists on both sides of my head. I growled furiously, trying to smother the indignant anger that rose within me from that single spoken word. "Do not speak as if you are better than me!" I threatened.

The man ignored my threat. "You are weak in body and mind." He tilted his head with an air of predatory curiosity, "You don't even know who you are yet you fight so hard against an enemy you don't even know when your true enemy is the one who created you."

I stilled at his words, not liking the direction of where he was going. "What do you know about me?" I asked with a forced calm, my face betraying my act.

The Berserker bared his teeth in a mock grin. "Suzou Masa liked to talk. He told me everything he learned when he accidentally hacked into classified files by the name of 'Reign of Ash'. Apparently eight months ago a man by the name Fujimi Miroku was performing illegal experiments in creating a perfect killing weapon by adding desirable strengths and removing any weakness that didn't fit into his weapon's 'design'. He especially wanted to start this specific project after the failure of the project 'World's End'. In that project the doctor had raised cultured human embryos and trained the offspring to become efficient fighters, an army of killers that he could create, raise, and teach, all within a matter of months, creating a large army of assassins within two years. Supposedly with the accelerated speed of growing the embryos and the accelerated aging so that the subjects reached their prime adult years caused the test subjects to go mentally insane and slaughter each other. Doctor Fujimi Miroku wished to create an army of killers yet his army slaughter themselves in a mass genocide."

"And did the late Suzou Masa tell you anything else." I asked with a feigned air of boredom.

The Berserker laughed darkly. "Hard to speak when you're dead."

//Not so true if you're talking to Claude// I thought to myself.

//Speaking of Claude, I wouldn't be surprised if he was an earlier project of the Doctor's before the Doctor undertook the project of raising the embryos, let alone creating me. Makes me wonder what the Doctor was hoping to accomplish with Claude//

I disregarded those needless thoughts and returned my attention to the matter at hand. "Your point? I am the Doctor's creation. To what means he went to create me are of no importance. My past is irrelevant. The Doctor is my leader and whom I follow. The Doctor_"

"Can you ever speak your own thoughts or even speak without bringing up 'The Doctor'?" The Berserker interrupted.

I glared at the man in annoyance. "That is not your concern." I warned bitterly.

The Berserker raised an eyebrow, sitting above me for a moment in heavy silence. "You say you are his perfect creation yet you are far from it. You do not have the physical or mental capability to fight to your true ability, let alone think your own thoughts or speak your own mind. You're just a little boy playing pretend." He said airily.

//How dare you….// I thought in sheer indescribably fury. //You dare mock me?//

With a howling scream of fury and near berserk rage I tore my wrists free of his grasp, dark bruises appearing on my skin from my sudden break for freedom. I smashed my fist into his ribcage, the force of the blow lifting him off of me by a couple of inches. I hit at him again in a knife-hand strike, hitting at the man's throat in an effort to crush his esophagus. The man choked softly at the last strike and I grabbed the lapels of his shirt, grasping him tightly as I rose to my feet. With another howl I twisted and flung him face-first into the concrete wall opposite of the closed door, hoping that the blow had forced the cartilage in his nose to smash into his brain thus killing him slowly or quickly, whichever was the easiest. Using my one possible opportunity to escape I flung the cell door open and smashed it shut behind me, managing to stop momentarily to mangle to lock to the cell so that it would be extremely difficult to get into or out of the prison cell. With a swift look back I cursed softly as the Berserker rose steadily to his feet, a small tendril of blood trickling out of the corners of his intact nose and face. I twisted around and sprinted down the hallway, leaping over Suzou's corpse, using the available shadows to mask my retreat.

//Bastard, how dare he. He knows nothing about me. I've trained so hard and so long to seek the Doctor's approval, and that man dares underestimate me// I thought, surprised when a small sob of frustration and irritational pain escaped me, finding myself ashamed and infuriated by my lack of composure.

//Fine then. You want war, Berserker, it is war between us//

//I will teach you to never underestimate me//

< < < < <> > > > >

Weiss and Schwarz had moved into a new compound centered in the outskirts of the city. It was a large and impressive building well fortified by a large enclosing wall lined with trip-wires. The estate's ground was covered with security cameras that monitored the entire area. The building itself appeared to be traditional Japanese with a few modern architecture scales and designs added around the exterior of the building plan, but I could easily see the well-hidden strength and fortitude of the walls and doors. I wouldn't be surprised if it could possibly resist bullets and certain size bombs at close range.

At three a.m. I scaled the wall with relative ease, remembering to shield my mind against the telepath that lurked inside. I had waited four hours until the Berserker had returned to this safehouse, waiting for the most opportune moment to strike.

The security cameras were mere nuisances. I had to time my movements to cross outside of their range of sight, taking nearly alone five minutes to cross the estate grounds. My assassin boots made no noise as I ran along the exterior walkway, not bothering to search for a means into the building, merely searching out my target.

I found him with hardly any effort. I leapt soundless up onto the second story, crouched within the shadows outside Bombay's bedroom, the teenager coccooned within a mass of blankets, a number of pillows scattered around his head and upon his floor mixed with various electronic equipment and sheets of paper.

I didn't dare touch the window, anticipating possible lasers that ran along the glass that would signal the occupants of an intruder. I took a slow calming breath, focusing my eyes upon the boy's sleeping form, my empathy extending into the building to wrap and mold around the boy. I momentarily inspected the entire building, noting where each assassin was stationed, made sure that they were all asleep, and assured myself that the telepath was not aware of my presence.

Returning my attention back to Bombay I sighed softly, the nearly invisible power surrounding the boy moving along with my soft exhalation of air, seeping into the boy's unwary mind.

There are many differences between an empath and a telepath, but do not think that either is weaker than the other is. A telepath may be able to control their victim's movements and thoughts, but an empath can easily 'persuade' an individual to do certain actions, constantly nudging them into a state where the only truth they know is the one that the empath whispers to them.

However, it is best to never underestimate either of the two.

I sifted through the boy's various memories, quickly finding the one I sought, using the information that Claude had provided of Bombay's path to encourage the boy to follow my orders.

//Bombay…how can you sleep when there is a murderer sleeping within the same building?//

The boy frowned in his sleep, his thoughts slowly growing confused and uncertain.

//That man Farfarello..he killed Ouka. He killed the girl you loved….//

//And you let him live?//

//Have you forgotten, Bombay? They way she died? It wasn't quick, Bombay. She died in your arms and you could see the pain in her eyes//

//Yet you do nothing to avenge her…//

The boy whimpered in his sleep, a small tear escaping his clenched eyes.

//Avenge her, Bombay. Kill that man. Kill the Berserker//

Bombay tossed on top of the bed, tossing his head in denial.

//So that's it? You'll let him live. While that man laughs and gloats over her death//

//What was it he was probably thinking? 'God cries when innocent angels are murdered by demons.'//

//Kill him, Bombay. Kill the man. He is the murderer of the girl you loved. It is fair justice//

"No…" Bombay whimpered, soft cries escaping as he fought back.

A tendril of doubt fluttered momentarily within my gut, but I snuffed it out quickly.

//Did you enjoy watching her die?// I asked dispassionately.

Bombay eyes snapped open, eyes glazed over in pain and denial.

Completely under my persuasion.

//Farfarello did. He pulled the trigger, remember? He knew what he was doing. Kill him, Bombay. Kill the murderer//

//You know you want to…//

//Kill him…//

//Avenge Ouka…//

//If you love her, you will…//

//Kill him…//

// Kill him Kill him Kill him Kill him Kill him Kill him Kill him Kill him Kill him Kill him Kill him Kill him Kill him Kill him Kill him Kill him Kill him Kill him Kill him Kill him Kill him Kill him Kill him Kill him Kill him Kill him Kill him Kill him Kill him Kill him…..//

The boy's body moved jerkily as he rose to his feet, bare feet shuffling over the carpeted floor as he stood unsteadily in his oversize t-shirt and boxers. He moved drunkenly to his dress, reaching into a secret compartment and pulling out a slim metal arrow, his hand shaking around the cold metal as he still fought tooth and nail against my persuasion.

//Please stop…..// A voice sobbed in the back of my mind, nearly throwing off my concentration and ruining all of my effort to control the boy, //Don't make him do this…please…he doesn't want to….you're hurting him…//

//They're going to hurt me,// I answered back coldly, //They spill their sweet lies and pretend like they know me, yet they only wish to hurt me. That's all everyone tries to do; hurt and confuse me. Why can't they all just leave me alone?//

Let me sleep and never wake up…..

//This is the only way,// I assured my conscience, //Whether it is true they know me or not, it is too late to undo the past. I must make them hate me……//

//If I don't then they'll always surround me, suffocating me…..//

The pitiful voice in my head didn't answer, merely withdrew with small whimpers of sorrow and I clenched my eyes to fight away the pain that seemed to grow inside of me by the second. I returned my attention to Bombay, realizing he was slowly exiting the room. Unable to physically follow him into the house I extended my empathy inward, temporarily abandoning my physical body to float ghost-like alongside the young assassin, whispering encouragements into his mind. //Up ahead…keep going…find him…kill him…//

Bombay's gaze was empty and glazed over as he finally stopped outside of a room, his free hand closing over the handle and opening it soundlessly. I hovered nearby, watching remotely as he moved closer to the single bed, recognizing the face of the Berserker, his face smooth and his single eye closed during sleep.

Bombay moved to the side of the bed, slowly, jerkily raising the metal arrow above his head, the weapon wavering.

//For Ouka…//

//Do it!//

//Kill him!//

//Ouka is dead because of him…//

//Do it, Bombay…//

A sound that resembled a defeated sob escaped the blonde assassin and I nearly howled in fury as the Berserker's eyes snapped open, the single golden orb taking in the boy at his bedside with a deadly weapon raised to strike.

//DO IT NOW!!// I screamed wordless even as the voice in the back of my mind howled in sorrow and denial, screaming a simultaneous//NO!!//.

A howling scream echoed the one in my head as Bombay thrust the weapon downward, aiming for the Berserker's heart.

To my amazement the man avoided the weapon, barely, rolling to the opposite side of the bed as the arrow was buried deep into the mattress. Bombay yanked the weapon out and struck again at the man, the Berserker moving constantly out of the boy's reach. They danced a dangerous choreography of metal and flesh. To my surprise the Berserker didn't strike the boy down, merely moved to avoid being struck.

The door behind me slammed open and I turned, watching as the other assassins spilled into the room. The telepath stopped short and his head turned, and I knew he could sense me but was unable to 'see' me, for the moment. I pulled back within my protective shields, slowly losing my grip upon Bombay's mind.

"Omi!!" Balinese yelled in horror, seemingly stunned to see his fellow assassin attacking the Berserker.

"Stop this now!" Prodigy shouted, extending his hand out, Bombay's body suddenly stopping and going as rigid as a board of wood, the weapon drawn still within his grasp high above his head.

"Katzen…" Mastermind murmured distractedly, "Throw it off…don't listen to it….don't listen…" I could see and feel as the Mastermind's superior ability practically snapped my control loose of the blonde assassin. Bombay jolted once being freed and he began to sob spasmadically, torrents of tears flooding out of his eyes, his grip slackening around the metal arrow. The Prodigy released his hold and Balinese caught the boy as he fell, holding the boy gently and murmuring words of comfort as Bombay buried his face against the soft shirt of Balinese's sleeping clothes. The Berserker stayed where he was, not moving, as if he still felt there was danger still present within the room.

"Schuldig…." The Oracle said, demanding an explanation, Abyssinian rigid and furious by the American's side.

Mastermind's gaze suddenly flickered over in my direction. I was proud that I didn't flinch. "Looks like Void decided to play nasty."

Ah, so he was finally using my code name.

Good.

"He urged the boy to kill me." The Berserker added, and I was unable to mask my surprise as he looked in my direction as well, his damned eye probably the means as to how he was able to see me.

"So nice you figured it out." I said hollowly, knowing that each assassin in the room could now hear me even if most of them couldn't actually see me.

"Ken…why?!!" Balinese demanded, fury, denial, and sorrow hanging around his form as he cradled Bombay to him.

"Don't blame me. The Berserker underestimated me. This was a warning." I looked at each and every one of them, even the assassins who could not see me. "We are enemies, fools. There is no such thing as playing nice."

"Ken-" Abyssinian began, and my control snapped.

"Shut up! Just shut up! Why can't any of you get it?! I am Vincent Gray! I am Void!" I screamed.

"Ken-kun…" A soft voice spoke weakly.

Gods!! Damn them all! I spun around to look at Bombay, the boy weakly trying to search me out with his eyes. "Ken-kun…" He said again.

"I used him as a weapon. I could do the same to you. Am I your enemy now?"

"What do you think?" Abyssinian demanded icily.

Thank you…….

Oh thank you. Finally, they finally hated me…..

I continued to look at Bombay's defeated form and I couldn't help but feel confident that I had won. "Do you hate me now?" I asked the small blonde.

Bombay looked shocked and confused, not answering for a long period of time. To my utter disbelief a small smile split across his face.

"I get it now…..I know why you did this…You want us to hate you so that we'll abandon you." Bombay released a short almost hysterical laugh, "All that effort to fight and anger us, just to make us hate you." Stunned I found myself backing away, holding my hands out in front of me as if I could ward off the boy's next words.

"I will never hate you, Ken. I'm going to keep fighting for you."

No……..

Please nooooo…….

I didn't care that Mastermind was reading my every thought or the way he looked at me as I howled in defeat and misery, covering my face with my hands, not able to comprehend why. Why?

WWWWWWWHHHHHHHYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!????!?!?!?!?!??

Unable to handle this confusion and pain that ripped at me I fled, rushing away from the room and practically leaping back into my physical body.

Ten seconds afterwards I was running across the grounds, ignoring as the security cameras focused on me as I leapt over the fortified wall, disappearing into the night, disappearing once again in defeat.

< < < < <> > > > >

I collapsed bonelessly onto the large bed within the safehouse, thanking whatever entity there was that Claude was still on the opposite side of town. I curled up in the middle of the bed, shaking in confusion and sheer agonizing sorrow.

With a scream I leapt onto my knees, grasping the large feather pillows, ripping and tearing them apart, screaming at the feathers floating above and around me as if they were the reason for my agony. I punched at the remaining pillows, trying to release my frustration into the unresisting softness. After only tiring myself I fell back onto the middle of the bed, feathers floating down on and around me, surrounding me in a sea of pure white.

"WHY?!?" I sobbed, knowing that no one was there to answer, my cries escalating as tears flowed, ineffectively trying to stop the flow of wetness down my face and the teardrops that rained down upon white feathers and sheets, staining them with crystal highlights.

"Why can't you just hate me?!?! Why do you fight so hard to save me? Why?!! Why?!?!?! Why?!?!" With each 'why' I pounded my fist against the mattress, demanding to know why fate was so cruel that I found myself fighting so hard yet forced two steps back from where I hard started.

Mindlessly I reached for my inner right arm, digging my nails into the soft healed skin, slashing open another long thin cut alongside the thin scar. I stared dully at the red droplets that trickled down my arm and fell upon the feathers and bed to mingle with my tears.

Do you see?

I am nothing.

Not worth your attention or your saving.

You have given me the one thing that can destroy me.

Blood and tears…….

Scarlet tears…………..

My right arm fell limply at my side as the wound slowly healed over and I lay my left arm over my eyes, giving into the tears and the dry sobs that spilled forth. I buried myself within the pain, sorrow, and the pure whiteness surroundings that mocked me with its beauty and the harsh scarlet blood that reminded me of the pathetic fool I was.

Please…..

Why can't you just leave me……..

Leave me here to sleep alone…….

So I may dream and never wake up……….