Witch Hunter Robin Fan Fiction ❯ |+| Red Roses |+| ❯ ~| Those of the Flame |~ ( Chapter 1 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: seduced_by_death 
There is another witch case and Amon seems very interested in it. This new witch may have possibly been involved in the process of making the project Orbo.
He starts his hunt. Lucky with the information Michael had given him, he easily learns the secrets about this new witch that has recently traveled to Japan. Does it have to do anything with Robin? Perhaps...
Anime/Manga: Witch Hunter Robin Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Mystery / Hentai / Action | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 03.26.2004 | Updated On: 03.26.2004 | Pages: 2 | Words: 2.6K | Visits: 1.5K | Status: Completed
There is another witch case and Amon seems very interested in it. This new witch may have possibly been involved in the process of making the project Orbo.
He starts his hunt. Lucky with the information Michael had given him, he easily learns the secrets about this new witch that has recently traveled to Japan. Does it have to do anything with Robin? Perhaps...
Anime/Manga: Witch Hunter Robin Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Mystery / Hentai / Action | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 03.26.2004 | Updated On: 03.26.2004 | Pages: 2 | Words: 2.6K | Visits: 1.5K | Status: Completed
!DISCLAIMER!:
No, none of the characters that belong in the anime series Witch Hunter Robin are mine. I love the makers of this show, and CowBoy BeBop; I worship them all ._. I hope you enjoy my fan fiction, there is quite a plot, so read carefully.
!WARNINGS!:
This 'is' a Shounen-ai/Yaoi fic. There will be detailed and sexual scenes that contain malexmale contact. If you don't like my pairing of Amon and Sakaki...then go away o_x; Thank you for all of your comments and I will update whenever I can. Well. Ja ne!
~Kurumi
---------------------------------------------
|+| 200 years have passed
since the last covenant sank into the dark.
A cold death. A bleeding heart.
Thorns that created bliss, a threat that caused the tears of the devil to fall...
Blank minds hallucinate the father of our being to think of a false image. My lord. Your lord.
It is all a balance that was meant to be kept. |+|
~| Those of the Flame |~
Clouds loomed ominously over a patch of docile buildings, strewn into the sky like a black plague as darkness thickened it's already dirty hue. Gray stone that held uncanny spirits shunned themselves into the new shadow. Unpredictable bad weather. It was one of those things that just didn't go away. Even on a day like today; so quiet, so calm, but not every soul was as placid as the weather. The heavy sound of beating wings echoed across the vast emptiness, escaping into the streets as in a sense of reminiscence. Laughter broke the impediment of silence for merely a moment, a bitter laughter; crow's cackling, fleeing into tall tree branches. Silence. More silence. The sign of a heavy storm.
Hence. This was a day of the dead. Cold. Weary. Anything could now describe the chilling sensation of evening. It had been there, in that small cemetery that another being had just been put to permanent slumber. How depressing. Yes, sunrise had brought curiosity, and sunset brought the beautiful colors of deep red and orange onto the atmosphere; rather a manifestation of the world below and above. A human? Or possibly a witch. Even a hunter could of been under the heavy, murky, earth.
Sigh. Another sigh. It was a day that had an eerie absence of patients, possibly because of the annoyance of sitting in a warm car for hours on end. Nervous eyes darted continuously to a wristwatch that was held in front of him, as the rest of his gaze sat upon the men and woman of black attire. The cemetery was as equally silent as he was, a few bursts of tears escaping the numerous attendees now and then, but gradually stopping as that person was handed a decoration of foliage. By that point, Amon had lost count of the amount of couples caressing the soft petals of a single red rose. Tch, it was useless anyway. Out of all things, how could a mere flower bring once frowning faces back into bliss? It would probably end up dying in a week or so.
He took in a deep breath, his stare adverting to each person of the party. Amon had been at that spot for at least three or four hours, scoping the premises for anything that would catch his attention. He was hoping that this funeral would possibly give him some more information on the current situation with Zaizen, hearing that one of the members had some sort of connection with the facility. It was some sort of wild goose chase, that person he heard of wasn't even there and it had taken up the majority of his day. He reached for his communicator, quickly pushing the necessary numbers for the tone to start ringing.
"...Michael here."
"Michael. That man I heard of, Wilton; did you manage to find any information about him? The funeral party is about to break up and there is no trace of him, at least not from the description that was given to me."
"Hm. A no-show ay? That figures. Well, I have some rather good news, and some bad. The good news is that I 'did' manage to find some information on this guy you mentioned. His full name is Thomas Wilton, and it seems that he was once apart of the design and plan of the Orbo, at least that's what it states. He was from the Americas and seemed to of said something about wanting to upgrade their technology fields. I don't know how or why that's possible. Besides that, there's the bad news."
A few moments of dull taciturnity passed, then the echo of fingers pressing against the keyboard rattled through his device. It had made Amon feel a bit uncomfortable, knowing that Michael must of come across something that needed to be dug into more. It was obvious that this Thomas had 'something' to do with the Orbo, it would be boring to the STN-J if he were to enlighten them on matters they would already know.
"Here it is. There's an old newspaper clipping with his name in it that was released a while ago back where he lived, it might prove useful. The headline states that there was some sort of disturbance in the U.S. which most likely means that there's a pest problem with witches, they kept records of this: 'Reports have said that numerous malevolent vexations included the acts of a group of adolescents and adults. There was a conclusion of two males killed and seven injured. Thomas Wilton had been a victim of this assault, concurring with police that some sort of -uncanny happening- had occurred that night.' They didn't name what happened, but further down, it reveals more about the story. 'Several days after the attack, Wilton had been diagnosed with a rare type of brain cancer called Acute Anatomy Misithompathia or A.A.M.; which was said to have symptoms of lack of focus, increase of blood iron, static reaction and sudden mental breakdowns. He was released from the St. Mary's hospital early due to this disease, switching to a different facility for treatment in Japan, to which he was released nearly a day after he arrived. Before his arrival, the other six injured and the criminals had suddenly died--doctors claiming that it was because of mere heart attacks that had made their hearts skip continuous amounts of beating and suddenly burn to a point where it actually broils the blood. Mortal burns had also been found on their bodies. The cause was possibly a chemical reaction due to one of the large petroleum tanks that crashed and spewed over the area and caught fire, scientists say that it is now safe to cross the lanes that it had tainted.'"
"Brain cancer? This all sounds like some sort of cover-up. Is it possible to find the hospital he was in and the one that he was converted to? I'm sure if he really 'was' there, there would be information about his little stay and this so-called A.A.M."
"Already ahead of you. It's called the S.T.F; 'Special Treatment Facility'. I'll send you the data, and a map to where the building can be located. Do you need backup, I can send Sakaki out there with you? Doujima and Karasuma are out with Robin trying to track down another witch case. Yeah, yeah, there's been another one; it might be Wilton and if you're willing to take the risk, you can join-"
"No. I'm focusing on another matter, I don't need any more distractions. As for Sakaki...I'll be alright, whatever I'll find probably won't need assistance. Thanks Michael, I'll report back to you once I get there."
He interrupted him, taking his ear away from the speaker, turning the communicator off. Turning it over, he peered into the small slot, a screen appearing. The hospital wasn't a great distance away, and he would be able to get there by at least nightfall. Along with the map, there came a set of data which described what he had looked like, hair color, eye color, his hospital room number and other features that would help the staff tap into the computer system. He reached for the ignition key, but hesitated. Maybe it would be a good idea to consult with Sakaki on this. No. That wouldn't make sense. Turning on his vehicle, he turned out of the cemetery.
/Could this witch possibly carry the same power as...Robin? It couldn't be possible. /
A thought drifted through his mind. What if it was true? What if this witch used the Craft the same way as Robin had? Not taking second chances, Amon would have to visit Nagira and Robin alike. They would have to meet somewhere, he would be able to easily spot his brother at the Pochinko machines the next day at his usual time. That idea made him think of Robin. There was no reason to worry, she was fine and for now she was in good hands in Nagira's protection--but there was always that lingering hatred towards her. She was a witch, just as his mother had been, but he wouldn't even ponder the fact that he was of SEED and witch origin. He had a task to do, and he wouldn't do anything else until his own hunger was satisfied.
In a time of forty-five minutes, he was able to locate the hospital building. Avoiding the parking spaces, he found a spot near an old cafe--parking in a small alleyway. Again, he picked up his communicator, dialing back to Michael to tell about his current position. Ring. Ring. Ring. Click.
"...Michael here."
"It's me again. I found the place, it looks a bit tattered. Is there a specific entrance that I should look into?"
"Oh good. Uh, I don't think there should be a problem getting in. Remember, it's room 466. I must tell you, I've been searching for some information about this hospital and it says that during the past year there has been these -uncanny happenings- while Wilton had been there. Even some of the people off the street were injured, all of them getting these strange welts. The only said explanation is that their veins where overheating, like, 'boiling' almost."
"Hn, this will be interesting..."
"What do you mean? What are you getting at Amon?"
"Just let me handle this, I'll get the files from the main office and then I'll be able to hunt down more about Thomas."
Michael didn't even get to finish as Amon clicked the button once again, setting it onto the opposite front seat. Without another word, he opened the door and stepped out of the car, looking around himself before he had decided to pull anything. Casually, he walked out of the alley, stepping onto the sidewalk that lead out into the streets. There. The building was only a block or so away. It was tall, a clean white and well built--something that you would expect to see out of a sci-fi horror laboratory. There were no windows, it just looked like a box. Large letters that stated S.T.F. sat neatly upon a large entrance, cupping towards double doors. He approached the glass doors, not hesitating as he did so. The automatic handles clicked, causing the two panes to open. Through the corner of his eye, Amon had noticed a small camera, an eyebrow quirking slightly.
Walking inside, the only sound he could then hear was his heels clicking on the white tile beneath him. It was deathly silent. Too silent. It was until then that a woman dressed neatly in gray popped her head above a long stretch of marble that seemed to be the front desk. She blinked for a moment, checking her dark brown hair that was kept in a messy bun. Amon kept his walking pace, traveling to where the woman was seated.
"Welcome to the S.T.F sir, how may I help you today?"
She asked with an unfamiliar accent, perking up as she sat with her back straight in her small desk chair. Amon's eyes quickly scanned the area around him, observing that there had been other's dressed like her assisting patients around the halls. He would just have to get it over with, but how would be able to access such information so easily.
"Yes, I can you tell me where I can find room 465?"
It was a door that had to be placed by his real destination. Perhaps they didn't clear the room that Wilton had been staying in. With the number of patients, he was sure that they probably hadn't even gotten to making his sheets--let alone the tablet of his disease and whatnot.
"Sure, go down the hallway to your left and keep going straight until you find it. The patient is currently sleeping, so please do not make it a long visit; visiting hours are over in forty minutes."
He didn't answer back, shuffling his hands deep inside his coat pockets. Turning to his left, there was a long hallway. Letting out a relaxed sigh, he again continued his way through the building. Passing a few men with long white coats and avoiding any further conversation or contact with anyone, he finally made it to the door with the numbers 465 hanging high onto the wood. He looked to his left. No. No 466. Then to his right. Still no 466. He even looked in back of him, the last number of that hall was 465; there were no other doors. A handle of one of the rooms suddenly twisted, creaking open as another doctor stepped out into the hall.
"Excuse me. Can you tell me where to find room 466?"
The man cocked his head slightly to his question, quirking an eyebrow. He chuckled slightly, looking to his right and then to his left as if he were searching for something. Amon didn't come here to play games, but the look he was given told him something. Did Michael give him the wrong information, or perhaps he had heard one of the digits wrong.
"I'm sorry, did you say room 466? Room 465 is our last door at this facility."
"Then may I know the release date of someone? His name was Thomas Wilton, I'm sure you've heard of him, he visited this hospital a mere 7 months ago. He had a rare type of heart cancer called A.A.M."
The other suddenly placed a set of glasses neatly on the edge of his nose. He flipped through a clipboard with a stack of papers, flipping through it violently until he came to a certain section. There was still that look on his face, saying 'what the hell are you talking about', making Amon look around himself for the door once more. The man looked up, gradually shaking his head as he collected the papers again to set them as they looked previously. Did Michael give him the wrong address and the wrong room, or did he just wander into a building that he had mistaken for another?
"...I'm sorry, there's no record of this Thomas Wilton. I've never heard about him or his disease..."
---------------------------------------------
CHAPTER 1 CONCLUDED
No, none of the characters that belong in the anime series Witch Hunter Robin are mine. I love the makers of this show, and CowBoy BeBop; I worship them all ._. I hope you enjoy my fan fiction, there is quite a plot, so read carefully.
!WARNINGS!:
This 'is' a Shounen-ai/Yaoi fic. There will be detailed and sexual scenes that contain malexmale contact. If you don't like my pairing of Amon and Sakaki...then go away o_x; Thank you for all of your comments and I will update whenever I can. Well. Ja ne!
~Kurumi
---------------------------------------------
|+| 200 years have passed
since the last covenant sank into the dark.
A cold death. A bleeding heart.
Thorns that created bliss, a threat that caused the tears of the devil to fall...
Blank minds hallucinate the father of our being to think of a false image. My lord. Your lord.
It is all a balance that was meant to be kept. |+|
~| Those of the Flame |~
Clouds loomed ominously over a patch of docile buildings, strewn into the sky like a black plague as darkness thickened it's already dirty hue. Gray stone that held uncanny spirits shunned themselves into the new shadow. Unpredictable bad weather. It was one of those things that just didn't go away. Even on a day like today; so quiet, so calm, but not every soul was as placid as the weather. The heavy sound of beating wings echoed across the vast emptiness, escaping into the streets as in a sense of reminiscence. Laughter broke the impediment of silence for merely a moment, a bitter laughter; crow's cackling, fleeing into tall tree branches. Silence. More silence. The sign of a heavy storm.
Hence. This was a day of the dead. Cold. Weary. Anything could now describe the chilling sensation of evening. It had been there, in that small cemetery that another being had just been put to permanent slumber. How depressing. Yes, sunrise had brought curiosity, and sunset brought the beautiful colors of deep red and orange onto the atmosphere; rather a manifestation of the world below and above. A human? Or possibly a witch. Even a hunter could of been under the heavy, murky, earth.
Sigh. Another sigh. It was a day that had an eerie absence of patients, possibly because of the annoyance of sitting in a warm car for hours on end. Nervous eyes darted continuously to a wristwatch that was held in front of him, as the rest of his gaze sat upon the men and woman of black attire. The cemetery was as equally silent as he was, a few bursts of tears escaping the numerous attendees now and then, but gradually stopping as that person was handed a decoration of foliage. By that point, Amon had lost count of the amount of couples caressing the soft petals of a single red rose. Tch, it was useless anyway. Out of all things, how could a mere flower bring once frowning faces back into bliss? It would probably end up dying in a week or so.
He took in a deep breath, his stare adverting to each person of the party. Amon had been at that spot for at least three or four hours, scoping the premises for anything that would catch his attention. He was hoping that this funeral would possibly give him some more information on the current situation with Zaizen, hearing that one of the members had some sort of connection with the facility. It was some sort of wild goose chase, that person he heard of wasn't even there and it had taken up the majority of his day. He reached for his communicator, quickly pushing the necessary numbers for the tone to start ringing.
"...Michael here."
"Michael. That man I heard of, Wilton; did you manage to find any information about him? The funeral party is about to break up and there is no trace of him, at least not from the description that was given to me."
"Hm. A no-show ay? That figures. Well, I have some rather good news, and some bad. The good news is that I 'did' manage to find some information on this guy you mentioned. His full name is Thomas Wilton, and it seems that he was once apart of the design and plan of the Orbo, at least that's what it states. He was from the Americas and seemed to of said something about wanting to upgrade their technology fields. I don't know how or why that's possible. Besides that, there's the bad news."
A few moments of dull taciturnity passed, then the echo of fingers pressing against the keyboard rattled through his device. It had made Amon feel a bit uncomfortable, knowing that Michael must of come across something that needed to be dug into more. It was obvious that this Thomas had 'something' to do with the Orbo, it would be boring to the STN-J if he were to enlighten them on matters they would already know.
"Here it is. There's an old newspaper clipping with his name in it that was released a while ago back where he lived, it might prove useful. The headline states that there was some sort of disturbance in the U.S. which most likely means that there's a pest problem with witches, they kept records of this: 'Reports have said that numerous malevolent vexations included the acts of a group of adolescents and adults. There was a conclusion of two males killed and seven injured. Thomas Wilton had been a victim of this assault, concurring with police that some sort of -uncanny happening- had occurred that night.' They didn't name what happened, but further down, it reveals more about the story. 'Several days after the attack, Wilton had been diagnosed with a rare type of brain cancer called Acute Anatomy Misithompathia or A.A.M.; which was said to have symptoms of lack of focus, increase of blood iron, static reaction and sudden mental breakdowns. He was released from the St. Mary's hospital early due to this disease, switching to a different facility for treatment in Japan, to which he was released nearly a day after he arrived. Before his arrival, the other six injured and the criminals had suddenly died--doctors claiming that it was because of mere heart attacks that had made their hearts skip continuous amounts of beating and suddenly burn to a point where it actually broils the blood. Mortal burns had also been found on their bodies. The cause was possibly a chemical reaction due to one of the large petroleum tanks that crashed and spewed over the area and caught fire, scientists say that it is now safe to cross the lanes that it had tainted.'"
"Brain cancer? This all sounds like some sort of cover-up. Is it possible to find the hospital he was in and the one that he was converted to? I'm sure if he really 'was' there, there would be information about his little stay and this so-called A.A.M."
"Already ahead of you. It's called the S.T.F; 'Special Treatment Facility'. I'll send you the data, and a map to where the building can be located. Do you need backup, I can send Sakaki out there with you? Doujima and Karasuma are out with Robin trying to track down another witch case. Yeah, yeah, there's been another one; it might be Wilton and if you're willing to take the risk, you can join-"
"No. I'm focusing on another matter, I don't need any more distractions. As for Sakaki...I'll be alright, whatever I'll find probably won't need assistance. Thanks Michael, I'll report back to you once I get there."
He interrupted him, taking his ear away from the speaker, turning the communicator off. Turning it over, he peered into the small slot, a screen appearing. The hospital wasn't a great distance away, and he would be able to get there by at least nightfall. Along with the map, there came a set of data which described what he had looked like, hair color, eye color, his hospital room number and other features that would help the staff tap into the computer system. He reached for the ignition key, but hesitated. Maybe it would be a good idea to consult with Sakaki on this. No. That wouldn't make sense. Turning on his vehicle, he turned out of the cemetery.
/Could this witch possibly carry the same power as...Robin? It couldn't be possible. /
A thought drifted through his mind. What if it was true? What if this witch used the Craft the same way as Robin had? Not taking second chances, Amon would have to visit Nagira and Robin alike. They would have to meet somewhere, he would be able to easily spot his brother at the Pochinko machines the next day at his usual time. That idea made him think of Robin. There was no reason to worry, she was fine and for now she was in good hands in Nagira's protection--but there was always that lingering hatred towards her. She was a witch, just as his mother had been, but he wouldn't even ponder the fact that he was of SEED and witch origin. He had a task to do, and he wouldn't do anything else until his own hunger was satisfied.
In a time of forty-five minutes, he was able to locate the hospital building. Avoiding the parking spaces, he found a spot near an old cafe--parking in a small alleyway. Again, he picked up his communicator, dialing back to Michael to tell about his current position. Ring. Ring. Ring. Click.
"...Michael here."
"It's me again. I found the place, it looks a bit tattered. Is there a specific entrance that I should look into?"
"Oh good. Uh, I don't think there should be a problem getting in. Remember, it's room 466. I must tell you, I've been searching for some information about this hospital and it says that during the past year there has been these -uncanny happenings- while Wilton had been there. Even some of the people off the street were injured, all of them getting these strange welts. The only said explanation is that their veins where overheating, like, 'boiling' almost."
"Hn, this will be interesting..."
"What do you mean? What are you getting at Amon?"
"Just let me handle this, I'll get the files from the main office and then I'll be able to hunt down more about Thomas."
Michael didn't even get to finish as Amon clicked the button once again, setting it onto the opposite front seat. Without another word, he opened the door and stepped out of the car, looking around himself before he had decided to pull anything. Casually, he walked out of the alley, stepping onto the sidewalk that lead out into the streets. There. The building was only a block or so away. It was tall, a clean white and well built--something that you would expect to see out of a sci-fi horror laboratory. There were no windows, it just looked like a box. Large letters that stated S.T.F. sat neatly upon a large entrance, cupping towards double doors. He approached the glass doors, not hesitating as he did so. The automatic handles clicked, causing the two panes to open. Through the corner of his eye, Amon had noticed a small camera, an eyebrow quirking slightly.
Walking inside, the only sound he could then hear was his heels clicking on the white tile beneath him. It was deathly silent. Too silent. It was until then that a woman dressed neatly in gray popped her head above a long stretch of marble that seemed to be the front desk. She blinked for a moment, checking her dark brown hair that was kept in a messy bun. Amon kept his walking pace, traveling to where the woman was seated.
"Welcome to the S.T.F sir, how may I help you today?"
She asked with an unfamiliar accent, perking up as she sat with her back straight in her small desk chair. Amon's eyes quickly scanned the area around him, observing that there had been other's dressed like her assisting patients around the halls. He would just have to get it over with, but how would be able to access such information so easily.
"Yes, I can you tell me where I can find room 465?"
It was a door that had to be placed by his real destination. Perhaps they didn't clear the room that Wilton had been staying in. With the number of patients, he was sure that they probably hadn't even gotten to making his sheets--let alone the tablet of his disease and whatnot.
"Sure, go down the hallway to your left and keep going straight until you find it. The patient is currently sleeping, so please do not make it a long visit; visiting hours are over in forty minutes."
He didn't answer back, shuffling his hands deep inside his coat pockets. Turning to his left, there was a long hallway. Letting out a relaxed sigh, he again continued his way through the building. Passing a few men with long white coats and avoiding any further conversation or contact with anyone, he finally made it to the door with the numbers 465 hanging high onto the wood. He looked to his left. No. No 466. Then to his right. Still no 466. He even looked in back of him, the last number of that hall was 465; there were no other doors. A handle of one of the rooms suddenly twisted, creaking open as another doctor stepped out into the hall.
"Excuse me. Can you tell me where to find room 466?"
The man cocked his head slightly to his question, quirking an eyebrow. He chuckled slightly, looking to his right and then to his left as if he were searching for something. Amon didn't come here to play games, but the look he was given told him something. Did Michael give him the wrong information, or perhaps he had heard one of the digits wrong.
"I'm sorry, did you say room 466? Room 465 is our last door at this facility."
"Then may I know the release date of someone? His name was Thomas Wilton, I'm sure you've heard of him, he visited this hospital a mere 7 months ago. He had a rare type of heart cancer called A.A.M."
The other suddenly placed a set of glasses neatly on the edge of his nose. He flipped through a clipboard with a stack of papers, flipping through it violently until he came to a certain section. There was still that look on his face, saying 'what the hell are you talking about', making Amon look around himself for the door once more. The man looked up, gradually shaking his head as he collected the papers again to set them as they looked previously. Did Michael give him the wrong address and the wrong room, or did he just wander into a building that he had mistaken for another?
"...I'm sorry, there's no record of this Thomas Wilton. I've never heard about him or his disease..."
---------------------------------------------
CHAPTER 1 CONCLUDED