Witch Hunter Robin Fan Fiction ❯ Falling ❯ Truth and Fiction ( Chapter 6 )

We must dream of promised lands and fields

That never fade in season

As we move towards no end we learn to die.

Red tears are shed on grey.

Killing Joke - “Love Like Blood”

 

There comes a moment in one's life where they're sure that death is awaiting them around the next corner of their life. The line between reality and the afterlife is blurred sufficiently so they look into the abyss and see their life reflected back for them like a mirror. For Miho Karasuma, the moment had come as the flames chased Zaizen towards the surface and freedom, leaving her, a weakened Amon, and Robin to die in the underground labyrinth of Factory. They had managed to retrace their steps back to the singular elevator that led to this underground complex, but found that Michael and Sakaki had already affected their own escape. Now, with a matter of moments left before the facility was crushed by a mammoth beam of concrete and steel that would have made Damocles proud, the three were searching for a way out. Though they were calm about it, Karasuma could sense the urgency in Robin and Amon's actions.

 

A cursory check of the elevator revealed it to be out of commission. The men had managed to hold long enough for Dojima and Nagira to get out. Shell casings littered the corridor, and three bodies were laying prone in the hallway wearing the garb of Factory security. A side door stood open to the right of the elevator, revealing a ladder against a concrete wall. Judging from the nature of the room, it was safe to assume that the two men, having insured the elevator's ascent to the surface, had then made their escape by way of the ladder.

 

“There is no time to take this route,” Amon said calmly as he examined the scene before pressing on.

 

Pressing silently onwards down the corridor, past the fallen prone bodies, Karasuma couldn't help but wonder why there were no injured Factory employees. It seemed that the remaining Factory security force had found some way to escape as well. Though she was not a gambler, unlike Nagira, Karasuma was willing to bet that there had to be another elevator nearby.

 

Alarm klaxons could be heard as the team rounded another corner. There, at the end of the hallway, was the distinct shape of an elevator tube that probably led to the surface. Reaching the tube first, Amon's finger found the button that would bring the elevator to them. He was not sure how long they had, but the klaxons had only increased in volume. A moment later, the elevator appeared.

 

“We have no time. Hurry,” were all the words that Karasuma needed to get on. A moment later, however, she realized she was the only one leaving on this elevator. A million protests rose in her throat and Karasuma opened her mouth to give voice to them but stopped as silence descended over the area. The klaxons which had been sounding the facility's death knell had ceased and a frightening silence had taken its place. A moment later, the unmistakable sound of high-tension wires snapping could be heard vibrating throughout the facility. A shiver ran up her spine as she realized what was going on. The building was collapsing.

 

“What about you and Robin?” She asked quickly even as the doors shut in front of her.

 

“We will disappear,” Robin replied coolly. “And fade into the mist of memory. It is best if we are not seen by Solomon again.”

 

A surprised look crossed Karasuma's face and she instinctively pounded the closed transparent door with her fist in a burst of anger and dismay. “But you were called `hope'. How can you be hope to all of us if you die here?”

 

“There are ways,” Amon replied cryptically, which was quite unlike him. “We will meet again, I assure you. Now, go!” The urgency in his voice was palpable and Karasuma found herself striking the “up” button on the elevator's control panel out of response to the urgency. With a sickening lurch, the elevator sped towards the surface, taking its lone passenger with it in a trek towards the surface. Karasuma had to wonder if this was what Icarus felt like as he soared into the sky with his wings of wax and feathers. Only now, she hoped she would not have her wings melted by the light.

 

Not even a minute later, she passed the falling beam. Amon's theory had been correct, it seemed, as she watched the growing cloud of dust and debris that followed along behind the mammoth. The elevator had been on the fringe of the beam's path. She could see shafts of light from above filtering through the dust as the elevator slowed and then stopped. Through the transparent door, Karasuma could see that there had once been a corridor leading away from this elevator. Now, though, the hallway appeared to be missing, extending after half a dozen paces into a gaping hole in the ground that marked the final resting place of Factory.

 

 

“A few minutes later I found my way to the front of the building,” Karasuma looked up into the eyes of her fellow teammates and the piercing eyes of Anne James. “That's when Dojima found me.” The blond gave a nod but did not elaborate, instead letting Karasuma continue with her story.

 

“I told Dojima that they had perished with Factory. At the time, it was the only thing to assume, since I had no idea otherwise how they could have escaped. I told the same story to Solomon's investigators and even to Father Colegui himself when he arrived a day later to debrief us. It was, perhaps, a month later when events seemed to seek me out.”

 

 

Karasuma staggered through the door into her apartment, pausing just long enough to push it shut with her hand. Not missing a step, she found her way to her bedroom and collapsed face-up on her bed, feeling relief from the stress and strain that invaded her every cell. They had been involved with another hunt earlier that evening; again, she and Sakaki had been in the field, hunting another nameless and faceless witch, one of the many that seemed to be crawling out of the woodwork since Factory's destruction. Again, she had been forced to take a life; something that Karasuma had a hard time swallowing. She had never been deeply religious, but believed in the sanctity of life—in the belief that every being deserved an equal chance to live and thrive on this planet.

 

She was tired, weary, worn from overworking herself in an effort to keep up with the demands of a continuously-growing workload. There was more to it, though. Her power, her craft, her special ability had been weakening. She had known it well before Robin's death, (it was the reason that she had wound up with Zaizen in Factory, after all), but now it felt magnified. Maybe it was due to her fatigue. Maybe it was simply because she was growing older. It was still present despite whatever reasons existed and served only to slow her further in her work. She was simply unable to give STN-J every ounce of energy in her body anymore.

 

It had been only about a month since she had last seen Robin and Amon alive deep in the depths of that wretched building known as Factory. That building now existed only in her memory. She had passed the spot the other day; already there was new construction there—an American company had bought the land and was hard at work building something new there to cover the old. Maybe there was a lesson to be learned there, but whatever it was Karasuma lacked the time and patience to turn over this mystery of life.

 

It hadn't helped that she had refused to see anyone about what had happened. Solomon had brought their best trained psychologists and empaths to console the members of STN-J over their loss. Karasuma knew that control over one's emotions was vital to keep from clouding her important craft of empathy. She knew that it was important to let go of Robin and Amon, that they were dead and buried with Factory, but deep down inside something had been awakened that would not return to slumber. Robin had been called hope. Hope does not die after it has been named. Instead, the only thing that can kill it is its creator—the only thing that could crush Karasuma's hopes was Karasuma. Maybe that was why she was tired, she mused. She was torn between the hope she had seen in Robin, albeit a skeptical hope, and the impending sense of doom that seemed to only grow with the passing of each day.

Minutes passed as Karasuma lay on her bed and stared up at the soft room light that illuminated her room and her life. A sigh escaped her lips as she sat slowly upright in bed and tugged at her jacket to remove it, letting it slide onto the bed. She looked around the room slowly, taking stock of her environment and, conversely, her life. Her gaze focused on a picture of the STN-J team, back when Robin and Amon had been alive. The STN-J team of today relied primarily now on both her and Sakaki to be able to track and eliminate witches. They relied on her to have full use of her craft. She was failing on both counts. Her eyes shifted, seeking a new focus. She didn't want to dwell on it anymore than necessary, this failure of all things she held dear to her.

 

Her eyes settled on the phone, which sat in its customary place on the table beside the doorway. The answering machine rested next to it, and the light was blinking to tell her that she had a message waiting. Gathering her wits about her, Karasuma crossed the room to reach the slender black box. Her thumb grazed the flashing button, attention already wandering to thoughts of the following day at work. She ignored the customary date and time stamp, suggesting the message had been left only hours before. It was the voice that caught her attention and dragged her back from the depths.

 

“Hello, Karasuma,” came a deep masculine voice that sounded exactly like Amon's. “Please step outside.” The click followed, ending the message, and the machine obediently announced that it was out of messages. Half stunned and half dazed from the simple message, but more importantly the portent that the message left, Karasuma gathered her coat and retraced her steps to the door.

 

Outside her apartment, sitting parked right in front, sat a black nondescript car. Its engine was running, and a figure looked out at her from the driver's side window. Karasuma's heart skipped a beat as she recognized the dark hair and seeming perpetual scowl of Amon. Without hesitation, she hurried to the back of the car, opening the door and getting in…

 

 

“Amon explained to me that he and Robin had found somewhere safe and the two of them had settled down and begun the process of establishing a coven. I found it hard to believe, but after meeting several members of their coven I became convinced that what they were doing was right. They were trying to educate, to create a proper and true community. Not like the Walled City, mind you. Something closer, stronger than in that awful place. Like the Puritan colonies in America—built around community and closeness. There were several empaths among them, and they graciously offered to help me regain what I was losing.” Karasuma narrated as everyone listened attentively.

 

“It was a few months after that when we received Hanako from Solomon. They had been promising us for some time to send a replacement for Amon and Robin, and we were relieved when rumors that a new craft-user was going to be assigned to us turned into fact…”

 

 

“Today's the day! I wonder what our new hunter will be like.” Sakaki wondered aloud, bidding Karasuma a customary good morning. Since her encounter with Amon and Robin, Karasuma had felt better… rejuvenated, even. Her craft had stopped deteriorating, and she felt that she had better control of it than she'd had in almost a year. She'd found it remarkable, especially after seeing how simple it had been to learn.

 

Things with the rest of STN-J hadn't seemed to change much. One of the unspoken jobs that Solomon had given her when they'd assigned her to STN-J was to monitor and insure the wellbeing of the rest of the team. The first months after Factory had been difficult for everyone, most particularly Sakaki and Dojima. Karasuma figured that Sakaki had always seen Amon as an older brother of sorts, and had always accorded him that respect. Lately, he'd taken a stronger interest in Karasuma—something that flattered but concerned the older woman. She'd always made it a rule never to date co-workers, and did not want to begin breaking that rule with Sakaki of all people. It was not that she didn't like him; it was just that she feared that it would affect their professional relationship. Thus far, she continued to accord him friendship, but stayed carefully away from the consideration of anything deeper.

 

Dojima… well, that was another matter now. Karasuma had been completely taken in by Dojima, falling for the façade the woman had given of being a total ditz who had no ability or skill whatsoever. It wasn't until she revealed herself as a Solomon agent and her true nature came to light that Karasuma had started to understand and respect her a great deal more. The new Dojima was serious and dedicated—even more mature - something the old Dojima had never been. She had shown a remarkable prowess for the hunt that surprised even Sakaki, and Karasuma had to wonder just what else she had learned before coming to STN-J.

 

Michael, meanwhile, remained Michael. Karasuma had to wonder if he ever had a life outside of this place since he was technically free to come and go as he pleased now that Zaizen was gone. The Chief, Kosaka, placed a great deal of trust in Michael, knowing and firmly believing that he was a part of the community and could be trusted as such. It was not uncommon to find Michael taking advantage of this to spend time eating at Harry's, laptop in hand as he continued to provide the technical backbone for STN-J. Yet, Karasuma had always been concerned for his wellbeing, at least deep down. She didn't show it, but Michael's solitude had always worried her, for it mirrored, in a sense, how everyone felt. They were all trapped within themselves, within this world that no one on the outside was aware of. Or, perhaps those were her own thoughts on the subject. After all, it was hard not to feel bitter sometimes when the actors in a play never got to see the limelight of stardom at all.

 

Turning back to her computer, Karasuma idly wondered about the new hunter they were being assigned. A part of her wanted to decry it—after all, Amon and Robin were still alive—but at the same time it would have been totally impractical for her to have said anything. The two were technically dead and wanted to remain that way. She had just started in on their latest case research when the sound of the phone ringing in the background interrupted her.

 

Dojima was closest to the phone, though Karasuma couldn't hear the muted undertones of her conversation too well. She could just make out the word “hunter” before the blonde placed the phone back in its spot and looked at the rest of the group. “Our hunter has arrived.”

 

The tension in the room took on a palpable air. The new hunter would be working with them day in and day out; he or she would be an official member of the team from now on. That they were a craft user made it even more of a relief. The only remaining craft user on the STN-J roster was Karasuma, and though her craft had been on the rebound there was only so much she could do. Her craft was not meant for defensive or offensive uses; it was simply a latent ability of sorts. At least Robin's craft could be used for either use.

 

A muted “ding” sounded the arrival of the elevator on the top floor, where STN-J was housed. The doors parted slowly to reveal a young girl, no more than sixteen, dressed quite similar to the way Robin had been dressed when she first came to STN-J; a long black dress cut in the severe style of the Catholic Church. Unlike Robin, her brown hair was cut pageboy style, even shorter than Karasuma's hair. The girl seemed nervous, and Karasuma realized it would be up to her to make her feel comfortable. At least the circumstances were different this time. “Umm, hello,” the girl muttered softly, giving a half-bow. “My name is Hanako. It is a pleasure to meet all of you.”

 

 

“I had been uncomfortable around Robin when she was working with STN-J; she confused me and worried me for plenty of reasons. How do you work with someone so young? It sounds silly, seeing as she is only a few years younger than I, but I had a hard time getting used to being around someone so young and full of naïveté. Meeting Hanako, there were strong similarities between her and Robin, but there were also enough differences.” Karasuma paused to eye Hanako for a response, but the younger woman was still as a pin, engrossed in the storytelling.

 

“I resolved to take her under my wing and give her a better chance than I had with Robin. Maybe I realized that I had been unfair to Robin; maybe it was just the fact that I felt I had changed in the time I knew her. Whatever the reasons, Hanako and I began working as partners.” She had been ready to continue when the pounding of the door interrupted her.

 

From the other room, the sound of the door could be heard opening, then the pounding of feet across wooden floors as muffled sounds of hurried talking seeped through the closed doors. Anne and the others turned towards the sound when the distinctively familiar sound of a gun firing in the next room shook everyone awake. Instinctively, Anne reached for her own sidearm, withdrawing it from holster and bolting for the door that was in the direction the firing had originated from. She paused, taking up a covering position as John, right behind her with his own gun already in hand, hurried beside the door. He was ready to open it so Anne could get a shot at whatever was beyond. The STN-J personnel were slower in their response but no less efficient. As Anne and John hurried to the door, Karasuma and Sakaki took cover behind their couch, Hanako and Dojima finding cover behind the other couch.

 

There was a second gunshot, then two more in rapidfire succession, followed by a series of muffled thumps. Bodies hitting the floor, Anne realized with a flinch as her training took over. Glancing back to see the STN-J team ready with weapons drawn, Anne turned back and gave a nod to John. Reaching the doorknob with his free hand, the tall American turned the knob slowly, then threw the door open as fast as he could, bolting through it with Anne covering.

 

The only sound that rose to greet the two was silence. Nothing moved in the hallway, but three bodies lay sprawled, blood seeping onto the carpet beneath them. Kneeling beside the body of a young woman, Anne checked for a pulse with her free hand and withdrew it when she realized that the woman was dead. Turning her over, Anne recognized the face as that of the woman in the pictures on the steps. She had evidently been the owner of the house they were staying in. The sound of soft footsteps behind her made her whirl instinctively, but it was only the four from STN-J. Lowering her weapon and re-holstering it, Anne took stock of the situation. None of the three, fortunately, had been Amon or Robin.

 

Standing up slowly, Anne made a fateful realization. They had not heard the assailant enter or exit the house. The entrance was easy enough to explain, but there was still a chance that whoever had killed these people could still be in the house. She withdrew her weapon again, raising it to the ready beside her ear as she moved slowly forward towards what looked to be a kitchen at the end of the hall. John, seeing her movement, fell into place behind her. Pausing, she waved the four from STN-J down the opposite end of the hall to cover them from anyone who might have been coming in that direction. Dojima and Sakaki headed for the stairs, while Karasuma and Hanako checked the front door, which stood open, exposing the outside world.

 

Anne had not gotten more than several paces when the sound of a footstep on linoleum from ahead made her pause. She had barely brought her weapon to the ready when a figure dressed in a black suit with a fedora strode into view, wielding two pistols with arcane markings on them. In the few milliseconds she had from the time she sighted him to the time that he brought his own weapons up (an incredibly swift time, her mind attested to), Anne was reminded of the old Chicago mobsters of the `30s, replete with suits and fedoras. Then his weapons were at the ready and firing.

 

His first shot missed high and wide, splintering the door frame ahead of her. His second shot, almost fired at the same time of the first, scored its mark, however, striking Anne in the left shoulder and sending her flailing and falling towards the ground. The flailing was good fortune on her part, for his next two shots cleared the space where her head had been, narrowly missing John, who had been behind her but ducked when he saw her tense. Her vision flared red as the searing pain registered, and she cursed to herself even as she “double-tapped” her own weapon, the two shots catching her assailant in the torso.

 

The ground rushed up to meet her as the pain flared, blinding her momentarily. Around her came the muted sounds of gunshots. She looked up from where she lay, looking towards her assailant even as the world seemed to slow around her. It was surprising that, in this moment of pain, she could retain such clarity of thought. Her first realization was that he was wearing a bulletproof vest of some sort as she realized her shots didn't have any effect on him. Then the second came, hard on the heels of the first. He was the hunter that Robin had been talking about.

 

She had no further finished this thought when the air took on an electric feel. The feel of magic, she thought as she struggled despite her injured shoulder. Either he or Hanako was trying to execute a spell. She focused her eyes on the hunter even as the world spun crazily from the feeling of the spell. Anne wondered who was performing the spell, discarding him at first but realizing a moment later that she may have been wrong. Before anyone could react, the hunter dropped his weapons, his clothes a blur as he disappeared from view, his weapons the only indication that he had ever been there to begin with. Sighing, Anne struggled to her feet, clutching her bleeding shoulder.

 

“Well,” she muttered through clenched teeth from the pain, “I don't know what that was about, but he picked the worst people to make enemies with.