I put WAY too much rum in the Daiquiris, and now my eyes don’t like the tiny typeface as much. -sighs- Alcohol is bad for kidlets like me. OIYA! I have put up a mailing list (for updates and my first picture in the fanart gallery thingie (*coughs* crappy, crappy *cough cough*! You should go to my main page and all that jazz! *bats eyes* PLEEAAAZZIE PLEASE??
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Grim, they returned to the scene of destruction. The sewers had been their only real lead, but something had to be down here to tack on a new understanding. No leniency, no planning, no drawn out campaign. Anyone even remotely involved in Omi’s death would face the same end. Relentless. They had to be now. Nothing could bring Omi back, but a healthy dose of pain could certainly be rained down upon those responsible.
“He definitely not go back to old job, working at The Tower.” Fate spoke aloud to herself as she poked around the gory room they’d originally staged their massacre, stepping over bullet ridden corpses, kicking decimated furniture out of her way. “They live like pigs!” Vehement disgust at their style of life, or lack thereof. “Reek like filthy homeless man down here”
It did, sort of. It certainly smelt of unwashed flesh, of human substances, of too many people packed together in too small of room. No bother, they’d fixed that problem quickly enough. Of course now it was a case of too many dead bodies packed in a room, but they hadn’t started to rot yet, so it wasn’t nearly as bad as it could be.
Youji and Fate were the only ones really contributing, adding difficulty to an already unassailable. height of problems. Ken was dead to the world. They’d only brought him along because the alternative, leaving him, just staring into space by himself, had seemed too much like abandonment. Aya was suffering from a particularly vindictive case of jealousy, hating both Youji and Ken alike, pale and listless.
“What about that symbol? The upside-down triangle with the notch in one side? What does that represent? Is it something we can trace?”
“You try looking for shape on the internet! I wash my hands of whole affair.” They bickered lightly, back and forth, trying to fill the silence, trying to ignore the lost look in Ken’s eyes. It was still to raw, to real a wound to really discuss anything between them.
They didn’t have any computers, any books, any papers. They couldn’t really have been people anymore, because real people would have gone crazy cooped up down there with absolutely nothing to engage their minds. The walls were faceless stonework, no little last-minute discoveries that revealed treasure troves of information.
“The dead guy who came back to life, Cobarde.” Ken jolted as if coming back from some far off real him side his mind. “We closed up his secret room, didn’t we? Before the explosion?”
Youji frowned thoughtfully, tucking loose hair behind his ears. “I think so, why?”
“It was fairly heavily fortified. Could most of its contents still be safe, salvageable?”
“That’s definitely something to check out!” The first positive emotion he’d had since yesterday, Youji strove to hang onto it. It was an expectation of sorts, the possibility that something might still exist to end this debacle between worlds. “After we poke around here a bit more, just in case.” He was still hoping to bump into a dazed and confused Omi stumbling around here. There was a point when it stopped being optimistic and merely became stupidity. Youji felt he was nearing that distinction much too rapidly.
“I’ll go check it out now.” Aya uncrossed his arms, finally breaking the nonchalant pose he’d maintained since they’d settled in one place.
“That’s not a smart idea.”
“You’re not a very smart person, are you.” Snapped back before he thought to monitor his words. Aya’s mouth tightened as he fought more scathing expressions of his anger. “Ko-Ishi should still be reeling from the blow we dealt him. He lost a great deal of men yesterday. I will be fine. I’ve got your cell number if I have to reach you.” He left, already at ease by himself in the dark underworld.
“What a sourpuss.” Fate kicked another body, angry at the lack of results. “We go look some more.” She left the room, trailing along walls so as not to miss any turn or twist. The carnage was just as bad one day later, a horrid reminder of all that had transpired.
“Ken, are you okay?” Youji dropped back a few feet.
An unresponsive shrug. “Okay is a relative term.” He’d continued with yesterdays detachment. Youji attempted to ignore it, finding it harder and harder to resist in the face of such avid apathy.
They searched, up one wall, following the corners until they eventually ran out of navigable terrain.
“Fate, there just isn’t anything to find here. We have no choice but to head home.” An apologetic shrug was spared for Ken as well, as Youji tried to return sanity to the scene. “We’ve looked. There’s nothing down here. It’s a dead end, and it’s cold, and I’m tired of wandering around down here.”
The scant, troubled hours of sleep he’d managed to make his own, lying curled into the lifeless warmth of Ken’s body hadn’t been enough. The world no longer swirled and floated around the edges of his perception, but it felt like caffeine withdrawal, like his life’s energy was seeping from his body.
Fate sighed, the only one of them aware enough to jump at every sound, to doggedly pursue any and all options.
The phone in Youji’s coat pocket started to sing its tune of doom. He fumbled it out, panicky. The phone number displayed wasn’t familiar, but he answered it anyway. Of all places to be, he didn’t want to miss any warning from Ko-Ishi that might extend his life further. The man was bent on playing the game his way.
“Youji. The basement is intact. The walls are solid steel. I can’t get to anything right now. It’s daylight, and neighbors are sure to see me poking about.” Aya’s voice soothed his nerves, far away as he might be physically.
“Everything down there survived?”
“To my knowledge. As I said, I can’t take a closer look until night falls. I have to go now. I’ll meet you back at the house.”
“All right, Bye Aya.” But he’d already hung up.
“Aya says the basement was lined with steel at Cobarde’s. He’s not sure, but supposedly everything is okay below ground. We can’t go without being seen until nightfall.”
“Great news.” Fate clapped her hands, immediately heading for the nearest ladder. They followed, counting on her to remember the way back home. She’d driven to and from the sewer entrance very time. Another quiet car ride back to their broken down house, to the cheerless silence.
The second car awaited them in the drive way. Youji shuddered to think of the speeds Aya must have attained to beat them back to the house. The hood of the car was still hot, so he couldn’t claim to be waiting long when they went inside to meet him.
“Youji.” A strangled gasp as the door opened. “Ken?”
“Aya? Are you all right?” Youji threw the door the rest of the way open, dashing forward to grip Aya’s elbow, concerned by the wild, wide eyes Aya fixed on the hallway phone.
“We have to go now! Listen to the message.” Aya jerked away from Youji’s tight grip, ushering Ken the rest of the way into the narrow foyer. An odd excitement infused him, caused him shift back and forth, picking at the seams of his pants, as far from composure as Youji had seen him in a while.
“Oh no, not another message from everyone’s favorite asshole!” A brief hint of animation on Ken’s part. Dangerous, when anger was all he’d let through.
“No.” Aya shook his head helplessly.
“What is it? What’s got you so rattled?” Pushing Aya to the side, Youji stabbed his finger down on the play button, standing arms akimbo, ready to act on whatever point of relevance the machine spat out.
A rusty cough began the sole human contact the answering machine held, and then a familiar voice. “Yeah, I tried calling a few times. Just thought I’d leave a message in case you ever got in. In case you’re not dead. I’ve got something here, at my shop. Something you’re probably looking for right now. I’m always in, drop by.” Another throat clearing bout, as One-Eye tried to devise further ambiguous sentences to cloud the issue at hand. “It’s important-ahem-that I talk to you. Imperative. Crimson Dusk.” A few mumbled words Youji couldn’t comprehend, and then the click of the message ending, followed by the monotone machine stating the date and hour the message was recorded at. It was the wrong time, several hours into the future. The machine was broken again.
“What the hell are you so excited about? It’s One-Eye, and he was too lazy to even leave his name. He’s lucky I recognize his voice at all. He’s babbling again, maybe having some sort of psychotic episode frequently experienced by the elderly, and One-Eye isn’t exactly a spring chicken, if you know what I mean.” Youji watched Aya, intrigued by the uncontrolled actions he saw. “What are you so agitated about?”
“You didn’t understand?” Aya knew his eyes were too wide, a mixture of relief and hesitant concern most likely painted across is features like graffiti, but it was worth the good news. “At the end he said…” he trailed off as he realized Youji lacked his background and wouldn’t understand, couldn’t understand because he hadn’t belonged to as many divisions of Kritker as Aya himself had. “It was coded, at the end.” And his lips spread apart in a momentary, helpless smile to take in the three people huddled cold and tired in the hallway with him, even Fate. “Omi, he’s got Omi. He’s not dead.”
“You son of a bitch!” The last few words tore out of Ken’s throat with a growl as he hurled himself towards Aya, fist flying towards his face. Aya’s startled cry and stumbling evasion revealed complete and utter surprise. A second swing caught him in the stomach, his overtaxed, healing leg going out from underneath him, and Ken leapt upon the opportunity, and Aya. One hand forced Aya’s back further into the ground, the other drawn back shoulder high for a solid punch to the face.
“Ken, stop it! What the hell is wrong with you!” Youji caught him by the shoulders, dragging him away from Aya. Ken didn’t fight him, temper controlled enough to keep from lashing out at those who hadn’t offended him to begin with. One shaking hand rose to cover his eyes, the contrast of scarlet blood on his knuckles ruining to scene of an innocent overwhelmed.
“’S fucking bullshit.” Ken mumbled against the heel of his hand, rubbing at his eyes. “You have no right to do this! You have no right to make a joke of this!”
He was well and truly pissed, Youji realized after moment. Youji wasn’t sure what to think, thoughts awash with so many different scenarios and possibilities.
“He not making joke. Crimson Dusk is also code, for One-Eye and I. We go far back in past.” Fate stood by Youji, feeding off his sanity. The rest of the room was for hunger as far as mental states went.
“Let’s go then!” Youji laid hands on Ken again, hauling him to his feet, overtly ecstatic. “Aya, are you all right?” Pulling Aya to his feet as well without a care for the blood trickling from his split lip. Youji wanted to whirl in a circle until he felt dizzy, wanted to jump up and down, shouting out victory. If Omi was safe, they could all revert to normal, whole once more.
They followed, like sheep, mindless in overwhelming confusion. Ken couldn’t believe it to be more than a fantasy on someone’s part. He hadn’t heard code, he’d heard the confused mumblings of a blind, old man, caught up in the loop of murder and intrigues for so long it would be wrong for his mind to work as well as it did. If he worked himself up to belief, like Youji, when they arrived at One-Eye’s shop and smacked right into reality, it would be too much despair. It was an odious, shocking thing to do, and he planned on having strong words with the originator of such an idea.
Aya obviously thought it to be more than a hoax. He’d actually smiled. Like smiling would make it better, the complete distain he’d shows for Ken’s grief, for Youji’s fears and shortcomings. Aya was too much a master of his appearance for the slip to have been anything but intentional. Right?
Youji called driver’s seat, with Fate coming in second for shot gun. Neither bothered to think in their excitement of the possible conflict caused by the two argumentative ones being cramped into the backseat on their own. No one discussed taking separate vehicles. The strategy of survival was nothing more than staying together to make death a little harder to attain.
They were quiet, all lost in thought. It was almost too good to be true. In the back of his mind, Aya thought of traps and tricks, knowing he’d still go running in, for the possibility of alleviating just a little of the guilt he bore like a cross. The switch code though, he hadn’t heard since his days as a member of Crasher, something else to put from his mind without thought. He wasn’t sure how One-Eye knew it, but the man had been around longer than him. He’d heard tell of One-Eye being a bit of a vigilante unto his own right when he was younger and healthier.
The sign on the door said “Closed”, so they went around to the side door in the alley and banged on the door until the shout of anger from within penetrated the wooden material of the door.
“I’m coming already! Shut the hell up with the banging.” A loud crash from within. “This had better be more important that it could possibly be.” The door opened and the barrel of a shot gun lead the old man’s advance. “I can gun you down where you stand. Run, and I’ll follow you and bring you down all the same.”
“Hey, Old Timer! You have something of ours?” Youji all but hopped from one foot to the other, impatient as a kid.
The gun dropped butt first to the ground as One-Eye’s scarred, craggy face broke into a truly delighted grin. “I didn’t know if I’d reach you or not. Thought you might all be dead. I wouldn’t let your friend go home until I knew he wasn’t walking into a trap. He’s a good kid.” He turned, ushering them into the dark confines of his home.
Cool and dry, the air smelled faintly sweet. The comfortable clutter wasn’t anything to be expected based upon the state of his shop or his erratic behavior. It was a bit awe inspiring, like being invited into the home of a favorite celebrity to sit down for tea and strumpets. If they hadn’t been so anxious, it would have been worth more thought.
“Hey, kid, I’ve got a surprise for you.” One Eye nimbly stepped over a stack of magazines, light-footed and spry as always, despite his age and apparently lack of sight.
“What?” The voice that wafted from one room over made all hearts skip a beat.
“Omi?” Ken’s eyes widened as he froze in place. Youji ran into his solid back, stumbling slightly.
A mere second of silence before a human streak made its way from seemingly nowhere, slamming Ken a step back as it latched onto him. Ken’s back thumped into the wall behind him, knocking a picture frame eschew, but it didn’t make any difference, because the head tucked under his chin was golden, and the arms clasped almost painfully around his ribs were all too familiar. Speechless, he reflexively pulled Omi closer, face pressed against soft hair, trying to keep his face from breaking apart as it warred with tears and a dangerously wide grin.
Youji grabbed them both into a hug, laughing out loud. Omi twisted his face up, smiling so hard his eyes scrunched shut. For a moment, it was all they could do to let go of one another, mutually caught up in the jubilation of an escaped death.
“Aya?” Confusion as he realized one person was missing from the group embrace, Omi turned, keeping one hand over Ken’s wrist, to make sure he didn’t disappear again. He stepped forward as he spotted the stand-offish figure he’d been looking for. “Aya, are you okay?” He dropped Ken’s arm, ignoring the slight sound of disappointment. A foot between them, and it felt like a mile.
Aya raised one hand, against his better judgment; the thick material of his gloves clumsy and out of place against the softer skin of Omi’s face, brushing one flushed, bruised cheek. His stiff fingers slid back, cupping the nape of Omi’s neck, pulling him forward for a brief, formal hug. It was the most he could manage, but the relief was obvious.
“Where the hell were you guys? What happened?” Still boasting the loopy grin of one gifted the most marvelous wish possible, Omi whirled, hands on cocked hips. The stomped foot was only for effect, no real disgruntlement or anger behind it.
“We thought you were dead.” Ken reclaimed Omi’s hand, afraid to let him out of sight or mind.
“I thought you were all dead.” The smile turned a bit watery, trying not to run down into sorrow. “I was on the edge of ground zero, and I wandered until I found a ladder to get out. I don’t remember much of what happened. I managed to bang my head up again.” A sheepish flit of his eyes to the side. “I woke up here, with One-Eye. He says he found me outside his shop. We kept trying to call you guys, but didn’t want to leave a message, in case you really were dead, and Ko-Ishi decided to pay the house a visit.”
Ken doesn’t volunteer any of our escapades, too busy taking in the solid reality of things with his eyes. The sight set off a pang in Youji’s stomach, awfully familiar when compared to his behavior upon rescue from Ko-Ishi. It was hard, to stop touching things, watching them, trying too hard not to take freedom from pain for granted. Some things just changed the world.
“They thought I was the one who’d been taken down, because you were wearing my coat.” Youji broke the silence, finally, a little jealous of the warmth between his two teammates. When he was the one thought to be dead, he hadn’t even received so much as a ‘thanks for not dying’ pat on the back from his remote someone special. He’d almost thought Ken to be the more joyous of the two. Made a fellow feel right unwelcome.
“That’s what you get for being a jerk and trying to foist it off on me.” Omi thumbed his nose, momentary young and carefree without the dark half-moons of restraint lurking beneath pale eyes.
“Heaven forbid I should want you to stay warm!” Hands thrown up in a parody of exasperation. The lighthearted banter did a great deal of good for that twisting block of unease slowly conquering his gaping cavern of his heart.
“You believe me yet, old man?” Fate grew tired of being ignored, stepping forward to crown One-Eye’s air space. Being blind, he didn’t mind the disheveled visual she provided.
“I believe you personally have some sort of stake in this issue as a whole, but I’ve seen no evidence of any paranormal activities.”
“Oh, suddenly you have big words in mouth. Ostentatious asshole! There is big word for you!” A few moments of spiteful raillery before she regained control of her ire. “No need to mock me. I speak many languages, all better than you and yours!”
One-Eye seemed to want to say something, but ultimately bit back the words. He fussed for a few minutes, straightening by feel the items Ken and Omi had knocked off kilter before he produced his vulnerable old man act and went at it with a passion. They left soon after that, through taxing his hospitality, promising further dealings between the two parties, all of a good nature, offering monetary compensation as a further cure all. The offer was refused, of course, but it would be paid either way. Humility meant little, but it was nice, even as a pretense. One-Eye was only into anything for the benefits he could reap.
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Well, aren’t we all happier little campers now? I brought back Omi-Omi, didn’t I??? Okay, back to the plotting from here on, lots of angst and all of that. Oi! Give me e-mails! I like them a WHOLE bunch! [email protected] or [email protected]