-------- Garden 05: Destitute Orion Part A: The Lion’s Den --------
Sense slipped into the Level 5 file room soundlessly, his feet gracing the floor with sleek, controlled movements. He closed the door as he moved forward, confident the building wouldn’t have power for at least half an hour. Kritiker agents might find the power lines cut, but he doubted they’d find their back-up generator anytime soon. And even if they did, it’d take a crane to pull it out of the swamp. He darted across the room and quickly pulled the Project Louis box from its shelf in one movement. He pulled a small mag light out of his pocket and turned it on. As he placed the flashlight between his teeth he lifted the box’s lid and began searching threw the files. He pulled out a purple notebook and opened it, finding his name scribbled on the page a few times.
“Ran’s powers far surpass anything we’ve seen before. He may very well create a new class of soldiers if Kritiker were ever to get him completely under our control. However, due to the death of his family, these powers have retreated into the far recesses of his mind. He isn’t aware of them and has holes in his memory. I doubt we can awaken those powers without filling the gaps, which would cause him to realize it was Kritiker agents who killed his parents, not a group of radical terrorists. The resulting explosion could be double that of a nuclear catastrophe if it angered him enough. But it could also not effect him in the slightest. Ran has enclosed him in a shell and grown cold to everybody around him. He is indifferent and very little effects him. Ran is, in a sense, a wild card that we need.”
Suddenly a piercing pain crushed his right thigh and he gasped, dropping the notebook.
“I got him!” The man shouted into the hallway even as he loaded another tranquilizer dart into his gun. Ran hissed and yanked the offensive weapon from his body before unsheathing his katana and cleaving the man’s head off. He tore into the hallway and began rocketing towards the exit. The sounds of his trailers kicked him into a higher gear, moving with almost blinding force as the ocastra of muscles broke into a frenzy of crazed melodies that moved one’s heart rate up a few notches.
“What was he hit with!?” Luna’s familiar voice screamed from behind.
“Hieflin!” A female voice yelled back.
“FUCK! SHIT FACED IDIOTS! THAT JUST MAKES ‘EM FUCKIN’ STRONGER!” Luna screeched. The doors to the exit were closed, so Ran braced himself and burst forward, breaking threw them. Solid steel shattered as the assassin forced his way out, not effected in the least. The red head was in his domain now, turning the night into a shield as he tore into the forest and out of Kritiker’s grasp.
---- Part B: Luna’s Interlude ----
Luna snarled at the men and women before him.
“Who the hell issued Hieflin!?” He hissed, laser blue eyes shrieking with surprised rage. When silence answered him he asked in a frighteningly calm voice, “Who issued that man Hieflin?”
“Persia.” The voice was a squeak, obviously fearing the ominous gleam in the doctor’s demeanor.
“Figures. Get the hell back to work and get the fucking power back on!” With that harsh command, Luna stormed off. When he did find Persia, the man was casually lounging about in his office, a small oil lamp giving light.
“You let Ran escape.” Luna’s voice was no longer angry.
“Yes.” Persia stood, the room becoming colder as he gazed out the large window.
“You notice what will happen if the higher-ups put two and two together?” Luna’s voice was controlled and covered in a harsh frigid ice.
“Yes.” The older man was distant, as if he was walking threw a land clear across the universe. Luna nodded vaguely, turning his smaller frame to stare out at the midnight sky.
“Do you really like Midori’s predictions are correct? Or that this Deus is just the myth of a teenage girl looking for romance?” The doctor’s voice was quiet and subdued.
Persia’s was just as deep and mellow. “It’s hard to know what to think or believe these days.” He slanted his eyes at the silver haired man. “Don’t you think so, Abduco?”
Luna exhaled a sigh, turning his laser eyes at the taller man. “Must you use that name?” He folded his arms cross his slender frame. “It brings back such...horrid memories.”
“Not horrid, just real. Real images of a war humanity will never understand, yet lives day after day.” Persia looked at Luna in a meaningful way.
“You should have been a poet, not an Atrox.” Luna rumbled, his voice slowly loosing its closeness. It trailed off into a distant, soft sound, full of regret, hidden pain and sick irony.
“And what made you become an Atrox? The promise of fortune and fame?” Persia turned back to the window.
“Nah.” Luna responded before chuckling. “I was a low-power Atrocity. I got a middle-class Atrox out of trouble and pulled the job myself.” His lips curled into a tormented smile. “They offered me training and a position here.”
“And you don’t refuse the Atrox.” It was a statement rather than a question.
“Exactly.” Luna leaned against the large oak desk and idly began to file his nails. “Nobody can turn down the Massacre Braves. Hm, its amusing how many names that particular branch of Zodiac has managed to claim.”
“I wonder how many nick names our friend Deus has?”
Luna gave him a look laden with worry. “I wonder if Ran Fujimiya is one of them.”
--- Part C: A Greeting Card ---
The crisp knock at the door alerted Ran to a presence. Not just a simple human, but somebody who knew how to glide across the ground and turn their breathe into the wind without a sound. The red head stood and quietly made his way to the door, expecting almost anything. When he opened it, he was greeted with a simple velvet red envelope with “Ran” printed on the front in neat, formal, loopy cursive. He didn’t bother looking around and picked it up. As he broke open the seal he closed the door and stood in the main entryway of his adoptive family’s summer home. He pulled open the folded piece of paper, which was black and written across it in the same neat handwriting in silver ink was:
If you’re wondering who I am, be seen at the Succubus Club at midnight, on this night. Now, turn around and be amazed at our prowess.
A fire engine eyebrow cocked uncharacteristically high, the assassin turned towards the hall. Surprise and shock hit his body like an earthquake. The walls were a rusty red color, while buttoned into the corners were drapings of black leather and silk. The hangings were torn and sewn into some of them were black lilies, dark blue flecking their petals, along with small, glinting beads. Scattered about the floor were a few idle dead or dying roses. Thrown on an old wooden chair in the very center of it all was an outfit, obviously intended for his use. First was a dress shirt made of nylon and styled like a jersey, black in color. It was long and would probably reach his knees. The plastic pants were dark blue, almost black. The blue sheen appeared only when the light bounced off it and looked like they would cling to his skin. Sitting on the lap of those pants was a silver I.D necklace with “Deus” engraved into its surface. Plopped on to the floor was a pair of combat boots, but instead of tying up, they had two buckles each. Flopping out of those was a pair of black knee-high pantyhose. A look at the clock told the red head he had two hours to get ready. He decided to bs an hour then shower, dress and try to actually find the club. And then, it hit him. He was slowly changing. He could already feel the frigid wall imprisoning him from the rest of the world slowly falling, melting away as some invisible force enveloped him in warmth. He sighed and quietly pondered this new development. An hour and a half later, Ran was freshly bathed, blown-dry and clad in the outfit. It accented his lean body nicely, showing off his muscular frame since he didn’t bother to button up the shirt. He chose to wear a small silver earring along with the necklace, as well as a leather strap around his left wrist that was about an inch wide. He quickly looked up the location of the Succubus Club online. If there wasn’t any traffic, he’d get there in about twenty minutes. After slipping his wallet into his back pocket and attaching a chain he never used to it, he left his house, locking the door behind him with the chain swinging against his hip. He pulled into the parking lot of the club and got out of his car, making sure to lock it. He turned and found a crowd of people standing outside of the door and inwardly winced. It would take at least half an hour to get inside.
“This way.” He whirled around at the voice to find the same young teenage boy standing before him. He was wearing a pair of very baggy dark blue jeans with a belt that held them up around his feminine waist, along with a sleeveless button up black shirt. Only the two middle buttons were done up and framed by his collarbones was a small silver chain. Dangling from it was a large V. Ran nodded silently and the teenager turned to lead him around to the back of the club. Two large, beefy men were guarding the door, but the boy dismissed them with a simple gesture. He then led the red head threw a series of stairs and hallways to a large room at the very top of the club. The entire floor was open and most of it was wooden floor covered in a lush crimson carpet while some has no floor and was lined with banister. You could stare into the froth of dancing bodies and drunks. Sitting at a desk typing away at a laptop was a man who was about thirty, maybe younger. His hair was oblivion black, simply enhanced by the inhuman paleness to his skin. His fingers danced across the keys with unholy movements, liquid grace melded to his entire demeanor, coffee brown eyes reflecting the screen. He wore a simple black business suite and black tie. Lying across a couch with his head buried in a magazine called “Hey Hey Popstar!” was the orange haired man. He was clad in black leather pants, knee-high boots, a short leather vest and a pair of finger-less fishnet gloves that reached his elbows. His flaming hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, wild bangs framing his face. His teenage guide seemed to get annoyed and cleared his throat loudly. The man looked over the top of his magazine, and stood up quickly. Not quickly, Ran corrected himself, just smoothly and without all those invisible hitches normal people have.
“You’re learning.” He murmured. “Thank you Nagi. You can go back to banging that Light Mage now.”
“Fuck off.” The teenager, Nagi, muttered harshly before storming out of the room. Curiously, the door slammed violently without the brunette’s aid.
“Hmm.” The tall man’s eyes danced with amusement while the one on the computer sighed heavily. “I suppose we can start at the basics. My name isn’t important, but if you have to call me something, you can use Schuldich or bitch. Whichever you prefer. Any questions?”
“Why am I here?” Ran’s voice was devoid of emotion and caring.
“To learn the truth of your very existence. Haven’t you ever wondered why you can read the thoughts of others? Or why you exist at all? Why are you real? What powers your body?” Schuldich took fierce steps toward the metal railing and put his hands out on ether side of himself.
“I’m not here to question reality or life.” The red head responded in quiet, lying voice. It sounded hollow and broken even to himself.
Schuldich looked at Ran long and hard, some unknown emotion simmering in the depths of his poison green eyes. “Then what are you here for?”
“To murder? To be a china doll killer? I don’t know, and I don’t care.” Ran could nearly see the lies boiling from his mouth and something deep inside him screeched in rage at him, shrieked to be let lose and live. Sense delivered a sharp comment to Ran and sent him scuttling back into the ice cage.
The German laughed, bitterness stinging the air. “You lie and you know it.” He spun around and stalked towards the assassin, standing before him so very close. “You won’t be able to get out now. You know that? You’ve come here and now we know.” His voice trailed off as he formed each and every word in its own solitary time span. Ran found himself tumbling into the man’s eyes, falling into their green embrace, gliding down the liquid path to obscurity. Fingers played across his skin, running threw the curves of his muscles and curling about his hair. Then, Schuldich reached up and flew his glassy fingernails across the assassin’s cheek, quietly marveling in the skin’s silky feel.
“What is it you know?” Ran whispered, unable to make his voice work completely.
Schuldich leaned forward and spoke back, his lips brushing against the red head’s earlobe in the fantasist of touches, “You’ll see.” He felt the assassin’s emotions hit a brick wall at his words and faintly grinned. “For now,” he leaned back and nipped airily at Ran’s jawline, “would you like to dance?”
A moment of silence passed as both Schuldich and the man at the computer waited for Ran to answer. “All right.” He breathed. A grin spread over the German’s lips, baring a pair of pearly white fangs. He took Ran’s hand into his own and lead the red head down a stairway and into the froth of the club. “Welcome to Club Succubus.” The music was loud and people were everywhere, pressing against each other in a chaotic dance of obscurity. The assassin felt Schuldich’s lean body press against his own slender frame from behind.
“Just do what your body tells you too.” The German murmured, beginning to move his body. Ran did as told and was soon attracting appreciative looks from both women and men.
“How am I doing?” Ran asked in a whisper, knowing he didn’t have to speak louder.
In a strained whisper, Schuldich replied, “An amazingly erotic job.” The red head felt the older man’s hips begin to grind against his ass, along with teeth being pressed against his neck. He sighed as warm copper began to slip down his neck before being lapped up by the German. “Do you want to know?”
“All right.” Ran replied.
--- Part D: The Massacre Brave ---
Ran let himself be led to a small rise where about half a dozen tables were placed. He sat down at one while Schuldich slid into the chair across from him.
“You are Deus. Or at least the reincarnation of him. Deus being a demon lord that wasn’t the best guy in the world, but he didn’t encourage mass murder. This is set in the Before Technology Era. Other wise known as BT to those who know about it. In the BT timeline, various types of creatures roamed freely about the world. However, a war broke out among the two of the three most powerful forces, magic users and animalin. Magic users include those of Dark Magic, Light Magic, Time Magic, Summoning Magic and Lunar Magic. Animalin are people who could change into amazingly powerful half beasts. And when I say war, I mean all out bloody, chaos, murder war. Not that kid shit in crap like Harry Potter or something. So, Deus rallied his Demons, who consisted of Hellhounds, Vampires, Leather Wings and Werewolves. He charged and ruthlessly took control over the war and settled the dispute.”
“What was the cause of the war?” Ran questioned.
“Nobody knows. Mages and Animalin are stupid like that, but don’t tell Brad I said that. His sister is a Time Mage. So, the more unusual bunch of humans went underground and began to hide their abilities. Deus formed Zodiac, an organization that’s been around since the middle ages. However, many didn’t like Deus. They wanted to reveal themselves. While Deus wasn’t afraid of mortals, he did know they’re numbers were far greater than our own. This is when the Technology Era came about. Magic users were gone and so technology flourished.”
“So, how did Deus die?”
“He was great, but he wasn’t a God. Some hotheaded Lunar Mage barged his way into the palace and preformed his most powerful spell. Deus took the spell head-on and was basically blown to little demon bits.”
Ran was resting his chin on his thumbs; his elbows set on the tabletop and fingers intertwined. “Why have you chosen to tell me this now?”
Schuldich sighed heavily and didn’t answer for a few moments, but when he did his voice was quiet and riddled with emotion. “Because everyday we regret being what we are. We can’t walk freely among mortals without a shield buffering our identities. We are forever blocked. You, however, still had a chance at a normal life. What is left of Zodiac agreed we owed Deus that happiness. However, a council of powers called Fatali has aligned and is planning to turn Earth into a barren wasteland. They despise all living things that aren’t themselves. With our leader gone and our numbers diminished, Zodiac doesn’t stand a chance against Fatali.”
“And you want me to rally the troops and head off to start a war?”
“Basically.”
“...Tell me why you sent me the hallucinations.”
The German shrugged. “We had to know you were Deus. While you were preoccupied with the visions, I was sifting threw that hidden part of your brain where all that power sits, waiting for you to fit the memories into the slots.” Suddenly, a brunette of medium height and the same pale inhuman skin appeared from the shadows, like a specter floating from damnation. His dark milk chocolate hair was cut short and framed his boyishly attractive face elegantly. His strong, muscular body was incased in a pair of silver nylon pants that clung to his skin with a million tiny claws and a dark midnight blue vest, none of the buttons done up to reveal a choker collar adorning his delicious neck. He held in his hands two glasses full of a pitch-black liquid. He placed a glass in front of each red head and silently caught Schuldich’s eye, mocha brown meeting emerald green in some conversation Ran couldn’t understand. Then, the brunette was gone, having melded back into the darkness, folding it about his body like a cloak. Ran narrowed his endlessly violet eyes at the drink before him, as if trying to see the poison that was ether existent, or nonexistent, in its realm of glass.
--- Part E: Created to Kill ---
Setsuna’s smoky eyes stared heartlessly at the screen, glassy surfaces reflecting the only light on in the flat. The brunette was sprawled across the couch, an embodiment of depression. He sighed and flipped to another channel, not really caring what was on. He came across an infomercial for those little things you stick under your cell phone battery. His mom had gotten him one once. It didn’t really work. Again, the vision of red red hair appeared in his mind’s eye, and he sighed for the umpteenth time. He knew Ran had gotten involved in something big, something deadly. He sat up and pulled his knees up to his chest, setting his small chin upon them. He had once thought Ran was the love of his life, now however, the mere thought of dating the red head was quite frightening. They were great as friends, but would kill each other if they lived together. Ran was neat, had to have everything together. Setsuna didn’t mind things tidy, but was too lazy to clean. So his small flat was usually a mess. He turned his attention back to the infomercials, hoping to be distracted from his worry. The one where they light a wig on fire to show how durable it is promptly brightened his mood a bit. That always made him laugh. He had sent one to his math teacher in the 8th grade. Without warning, a hand clamped over his mouth, while a pair of arms grabbed him around the waist, trapping his arms at his sides. The hand was replaced with a gag as his captors moved into his field of vision. One was a tall woman with dark blue hair and a very odd pattern around her eyes, which were also midnight. Her features were attractive, but an ice-cold barrier turned them to frigid winter and she almost emitted hostility. She was holding him about the arms. A blonde woman tied his ankles together and easily hefted them onto her shoulders. Her honey hair was wavy and bounced around her shoulders, framing a wonderfully beautiful face and two emerald green eyes.
“Lets go!” A teenage girl squealed. Her hair was aqua and pulled up in two half-buns, obscuring her dark blue eyes. She was childishly attractive and dressed like she was ten, clutching a stuffed bunny to her plump chest. She ran outside, hair flying wildly behind her. A fourth woman ran her claw-like fingernails across Setsuna’s cheek, leaving red marks down his skin.
“Lets see if Deus will come for his Blade of Ages.” Her voice was a low whisper and laced with barely hidden malice. An image shot across Setsuna’s vision. A Knight wielding a huge sword, two demonic wings bursting from his back, black cloak sweeping the ground behind him. Red dabbled into the picture, but before it became clear, it was gone.
“This scrawny little thing helped defeat Reiji?” The blue haired woman spoke.
“Amazingly, yes.”
“Zodiac is here!” The aqua haired girl screamed.
“Shit! Schoen, go help her.” The fourth woman ordered. The blonde dropped his feet and tore outside, a whip cracking in her hand. “Neu, you get the car ready. I’ll meet you around the block.”
The blue haired woman, Neu nodded. She held Setsuna easily still, even though he was struggling for all his worth against her impossible grip. Neu handed the brunette over to her leader and followed Schoen outside. The last woman threw him over her shoulder and darted out the back. She easily vaulted a fence into another backyard and tore threw there as well.
