The idea that created this, began as a random thought that slowly evolved into what you read today, spurred by five very unremitting muses, my own curiosity as to where everything was heading, and lastly, confidence-boosting reviews that continue even now, when I am taking an extended leave of absence from fan fiction. My deepest thanks to all who left their opinion, and I will continue writing this story until it's inevitable conclusion. *Bows*
[Written from December 1st to December 4th of 2002]
[Last Edited May 24th of 2004]
Disclaimer: Sanami Matoh once again holds all rights to FAKE. However, any original characters contained within are my own (not that it matters much in the end).
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"Mad Season"
Chapter One: A Beginning
In a large clearing of the vacant park, with the full moon shining bright in the sky above, one could make out a figure, solitary in his sentry; a tall lanky man who sat quietly on the wooden park bench with his feet resting on the edge of the seat, lower body sitting on the top of the bench. His clothing was plain, nothing that could discern him from a gathered crowd. Cerulean jeans, and a long sleeved crimson dress shirt covered his lean figure, while resting in his lap was a black leather jacket, the cuffs of the piece of clothing worn from overuse.
His skin was tan, even though the recent New York winter had been especially harsh, and the man hadn't seen any warm weather for days now. One pair of dark emerald eyes blinked and then refocused on the ashen colored moon above him as Dee Laytner ran a hand through his short-cropped black hair and sighed, the exhalation of breath itself was soft in tone, a sharp contrast to the gravelly deep voice in which he spoke. He'd come here to gain some peace of mind, and found his mind obstinately refusing to grant him his lone desire.
Shaking his head back and forth curtly, the man reached into his jacket pocket for his ever-present pack of cigarettes, a moment later holding the lit plastic lighter to the cancer stick, and inhaling deeply as the tip begun to glow orange. Dee made short work of the cigarette, as he puffed contentedly, looking out among the shadowed clearing with an arched eyebrow. It seemed no one but crazies, the forever oblivious, and criminals wandered out into the darkness at this time of night, though the question, that vaguely amused Dee was, what category did he fall under?
With another flick of the lighter, he began work on a new cigarette, sighing heavily as Dee slid down the park bench, coming to rest on the balls of his feet. In one boneless motion he stood, pressing his lips tightly around the ashen cylinder to prevent it from escaping its unstable position. Dee scanned the clearing once again, instincts taking a brief hold on him before his tense shoulders shifted into a more relaxed posture. He started to walk towards the dark forest path when a flick of movement went noticed from the corner of his eye, halting all movement his body had attempted to make.
It was a shady looming outline that dragged itself from the recluse of the forest path, panting wildly, in an unsteady rhythm that signified it was in deep pain, and obviously suffering immensely from something other than it�s injuries, though what Dee could not discern. The creature was at least seven feet tall, covered in thick black fur that matched the shadows almost perfectly, if it had not revealed itself, the man would have never known it was present.
It's long snout released, revealing white glistening teeth, which would never be mistaken for anything other than a killing weapon. Amber wolf eyes glowered at Dee and he struggled to breathe under that burning gaze, like a lighthouse light burning brightly as it turned his way. Long muscular arms ended in crude claws, with points that gleamed sharp in the moonlight above. The legs were protracted, and muscles flexed as the creature crept closer, seeming oddly cautious for a creature of it's supremacy, until Dee could see the furred skin roll up and down with the movement.
Crimson liquid ran in deep heavy lines down its neck, and Dee fought the urge to lean forward and prod at the wound, common sense telling him that to do such a thing would be beyond ignorance. Taking a deep breath, he stepped back from that form of contained violence, eyeing the creature closely as he did so, for a low growling sound crawled out of the beast's throat but it did not make any advances towards him.
At a better vantage point, Dee could see the injuries had been made by various weapons, making particular note of the bullet wounds, all of them at close range if the carnage surrounding the holes was of any indication, as well a few deep cuts as well, obviously inflicted upon the beast by knives.
His voice, which he feared would come out an octave higher than usual, came out normal, in an oddly detached-professional tone. "Well, looks like you've been dragged through hell and back," Dee commented, pondering if the creature could actually comprehend human speech. What was this beast anyway? No dogs he was aware of actually loomed over their owners.
The sound of angry yelling caught his ear, and before he could glance back fully at the beast, there was a sudden hardness to it's strange eyes, and Dee could scarcely draw in a breath before pain ripped its way across his shoulder. He suddenly found himself sprawled about the ground, forcing his lungs to function as they normally did, a challenge in of itself as Dee became aware of footfalls nearby.
As the ground quivered slightly beneath him, he raised his head to see several dark shapes cross his line of vision, one of which neared enough to raise a pale hand to his forehead, and unconsciously, Dee found himself leaning into the touch, hands moving of their own accord to reach out and clutch desperately at the wrist of that proffered hand.
"Who are you? Why did yo-" He questioned, unable to draw anymore words as the pain of his wounded shoulder rolled his mind under completely, dark streamers eating at the remainder of his vision, and vaguely Dee was aware of someone repositioning his body, of something foul hitting the ground then something cool replacing the hand on his forehead.
When Dee could see somewhat clearly again, a face of mixed ancestry met his gaze evenly, with a touch of irritation, as a male voice sprung out of that mouth, and he grimaced as the sound entered the air, for his senses seemed to have either dulled or sharpened, he was not sure which.
"Looks bad. The beast struck him across the shoulder and chest, managing a competent bash to his head as well. His pupils are uneven, which may mean he has a concussion but we'll not be sure of that until Doc Campbell checks him over." Through his daze, Dee figured the man had one foot on American soil, the other he could not place; Asian perhaps? Only one of the dark gray eyes directed at him actually saw Dee, as the man's left one was a cold white thing that moved in sync with the other, the area around the damaged eye was covered in angry ashen scars that screamed quite an interesting history, and Dee pondered how the wound could have come about.
The world threatened to revolve when the mysterious man readjusted Dee, the reason only becoming clear when smooth-skinned fingers came to rest on his neck, pressing lightly for a moment then shifting away altogether. Was he imagining all this or had reality really become so skewered?
"Diana, check his clothes for any sort of ID," The man said as he grabbed hold of Dee's arm, pulling him up to his feet, only to take hold of him completely as Dee's legs refused to obey him correctly, as something dark rolled across his vision, and before he was aware of it, several moments went by before Dee could focus on the current happenings around him.
There was a slam of a car door, a metallic whir, and the feel of cold night air rushing onto his fevered skin then a light female voice spoke to him quietly, obviously intent on keeping him from falling asleep.Hold on a little longer please, Dee, it's not that far from Randy's apartment and once Doc has looked you over and confirmed you aren't suffering from a concussion, then you can rest all you want, all right?"
Dee managed a slight nod of the head then restrained from any further movement as the small motion had made his teeth clinch tightly, and head pound even harder then before. Pain jolted him from his short daze, and after a comforting pat on the shoulder; Dee grimly set himself to the task of resisting off the darkness that rested on the edge of his version, when brakes screeched, time seemed to hasten and as a soft surface presented itself, he started, forgetting for a moment that the people around him were trying to assist him, not injure him further.
For a time, small hands prodded his wounds before someone's muttering voice became apparent, fixed on the task in front of him and not in his current surroundings it seemed, a second voice, the one he had first heard at the park joined in soon enough, and Dee forced himself to focus on the conversation. "You're saying that he may have had a concussion but it's difficult to tell even though I told you of the his symptoms upon our arrival in the park?"
"Ryo, I'm not doubting what you saw but given current circumstances, and possible pending changes in the future, his body obviously saw fit to heal the more life-threatening injuries before the superficial ones, not that it...werker...later on..." The words began to blur, fading in and out before Dee fell into oblivion, numb to the pain that screamed from his shoulder and his ever-aching head, and most of all, numb to all the mayhem that had recently taken place.
To Be Continued...
Onto Chapter Two?
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