Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Cope ❯ Chapter 4 ( Chapter 4 )

Title: Cope

Author: VOM

Archive: Yes! seifernsquall@netscape.net

Rating: R

A/N: Sorry it took so damn long! After vacation was over I was bummed and kinda sat in my bed every day looking at the ceiling wondering why I hadn't redecorated my room.

This is probably gonna be longer than originally thought. I've also decided this chapter is going to be darker. Ran is an angsty boy! No real plot, 'cept for the end, but to get the flow read the whole thing. Ran is an over-analyzer. *nods*

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Ran slammed the door to his room, breathing hard and wishing with all his might to be somewhere else. Anywhere else. Somewhere with innocence and love and tenderness and everything Ran's life had been missing since The Accident.

The redhead threw a punch at the whitewashed walls, deliberately holding back so he wouldn't punch a hole in it. Takatori. Just the mere mention of the name sent him into a hateful torrent of emotion. He couldn't wait to feel Takatori's blood on his katana and gloves, or maybe begging for mercy right before Ran's katana cut through his neck, severing the neck cleanly from the body. Or maybe he should make him suffer for everything that Ran's life had been since The Accident. Hell. He would crush the man and his helpers like flies, until they gasped for forgiveness, and then he would kill them.

His blood burned with a hate when he thought of Ken. Damn the boy! How could he mess up like that, getting captured like a fool! That -boy-. Damn him. How could he get taken, when Ran needed him most? He thought of Scharwz, and what they might do to him. What they _would_ do to him. His blood felt like acid, burning it's way through his veins while all he could do was sit there and take it. Someday he would give Aya back her name, and all would be right in the world. She would forgive him, surely. She had to. It was her he did all this for, how he'd sacrificed his innocence for her's. For the bills.

There were other jobs he could have taken. But this was the only one that allowed him to take revenge. Revenge was what he lusted for -he craved it. Needed to feel the grim satisfaction of a mission completed, a job well done. The bloodlust had him in it's grasp, and Ran wanted nothing more than to give into it; to go blind into enemy territory and just kill until the blood ran in rivers down the walls, like Ran's tears on the day of The Accident. Shit.

He needed to feel the beat of something. A heartbeat, anything, to know he was alive. Preferably throbbing, grinding, uncaring noise. Anonymous dancing. He couldn't risk sex with a stranger, after all an assassin with AID's wouldn't do any good. But he needed a release. It was the coarse music or slitting his wrists, which was not pretty the first time, and he didn't feel like repeating it. Dancing it was. Ran stalked over to his dresser, crouching down and opening the last drawer. Black, white, blood red, dark midnight blue, they were all there. His shirts mixed together, creating a better rainbow than raindrops and fire ever could. He grabbed a pair of pants before stripping down to nothing and pulling the leather pants up. Ran loved the feel of leather on his bare skin, the little caresses it gave when he moved every which way.

His shimmering blue top perfectly accented his form, showing off his beautiful stomach and arms. The corded muscle there carried a sort of dominance all by itself; something that powerful could never be contained easily. Ran breathed in deeply; his shirt smelled of Downy. Soon it would smell like sweat, sex, and other things. He quietly made his way down the stairs, careful to not make any sound. If Omi or Youji knew, they would probably turn him in as crazy. More crazy than the Irish man. He did have things in common with the insane man, though. Self-inflicted scars. A bloodlust. Hate. Too many things. Ran's self-deprecation once again roared up. Damn.

He had left his katana in his room, of course. It wouldn't do any good dancing with it. He pulled into a parking lot about 5 blocks away from his desired club. Parking your car to close to a club was a mistake for amateurs. Especially with as nice a car as the redheads. Many boys' looking for a thrill would be eyeing his car if he parked it there.

That would do no good, getting it stolen.

The wind whispered in Ran's ear, cajoling him. It flirted with his body, plastering his hair to his head. He growled lowly in his throat as he saw a group of 15-year old kids approaching the club. What did they think they were doing, coming to this place? They should have been at some school dance, not here. He picked out a boy with shoulder length black hair who was jumping up in down in excitement. He was beautiful, in an innocent way.

Probably his first visit to a club.

He'd be the one to be gang-banged, to be woken up with blood on his legs the next morning and turned into the police because he refused to speak, refused to tell anyone who he was, where he was from. And his friends would see him on TV and turn their heads in shame because they were to damn afraid to do anything. Ran turned away from the group, trying to ignore the group, ignore his old instinct that told him to warn them, to get that boy out of here.

But if it wasn't him, it could be that boy, the one with the short silver hair, or that girl. The one hanging by the corner of the next block, trying to keep cool while guys blatantly stared at her legs, sweeping up and down her body. Her story would be 'waiting for my boyfriend'.

Trying to protect herself from the grabbing hands of the night. Fool! This part of the city was where Ran could let go, become another face in the crowd, just another pretty face to fuck. Not that he would let anyone do that. He'd do the fucking, thank you very much. Anyone here would just sit back and take what he gave them, be it pleasure, pain, or that sick twisted mix of the two feelings Ran had come to know.

He walked past the long line waiting to get in, bypassing all of the newbies to the front of the club, before plunging in. The heavy bass immediately hit his senses. If he hadn't been used to it, he would've covered his ears. The assassin threw himself onto the dance floor, becoming one with the other dead souls on the floor. He was alive now, if only for a few precious hours.

*-*-* A/N: Ok, I'll have to go back and add on the thank you for reviews later. I know lots of people think that Ran never gets out, and it's accepted cannon, but I think it could be different. Perhaps more boring details on this later.

REVIEW PPPPLEASE!!!!