Apocolyptic Revolution
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Apocolyptic Revolution
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OCTOBER 13. AKA CHARLES VALENTINE.
11:00 PM - Tokyo, Japan.
It was cloudless. The night sky spilled endlessly across the heavens, punctuated by the fake stars - contracts. Without the milky light of the moon to turn the sky to navy velvet, it fell to purple embroidery, washed out by the light of Tokyo. The bottom edge of the horizon was blocked out, blacked out entirely, by the wall of the Hell's Gate, built by PANDORA. Cranes obscured the line even more as repairs continued on the wall. The Tokyo Explosion, as it was intended and dubbed three years ago, had caused such catastrophic damage to the facilities. There was another supposed six monthes of construction to complete the repair. High rises and sky scrapers surrounded the gate, as always, lit to the top. More than one went without indication of business, and in of these buildings, one floor remained lit after all the workers left the building.
"In time, Mizuki, you will understand." In a darkened office, where only one lamp glowed, a man sat with his back to the door, watching the stars. "Until then, you should not question me." He tapped his finger lightly against the back of the phone. "I want messier codes ZG-000 and KN-173 on this one. No dolls. No handlers." A pause. "Yes." Another pause, brows tightening. "You're doubting me?" The line buzzed with apologies. "Good. Contact their handlers." A moment of silence. "Their lives? You pathetic sap. They're contractors. Monsters. They don't have lives." He stood from his chair and approached the glass. "Give them the assignment. Don't take questions." There was a long moment of silence, before Mizuki muttered, "Understood," and hung up.
6:00 AM - London, England.
With the autumn chill in the air, at this time of morning, the ratty little playground was very nearly deserted. That being said, it was almost always abandoned. Flaking paint and creaking, rusted chains, didn't exactly portray a picture of safety. It didn't improve the site that there appeared to be a strange little gang that hung around. A woman, a girl, and two men. The woman was a tall, dark skinned woman with cropped black hair. She was usually seen wearing dark skinny jeans and a leather jacket. Her name was Charlotte. The girl, with her flat blue eyes and small hand always against the tree, was a doll by the name of May. Now the men. The first was blond haired, blue eyed and bad tempered. They called the name August when he stormed out. The last man was tall, muscular, red headed and blue eyed. He smiled openly, if not sincerely, and seemed genuinely fond of all of them. And this man was October 13.
Today, the strange little group was one short. August was not present. "What do you have for us today, Charlotte? It's early, even for you," October said in a voice that was barely more than flat. His sweet tenor voice punctuated the quiet of the park. Charlotte chewed her lip as she sat at the edge of the picnic table. "This one is all you, sugar. No dolls. No handler. No August."
His eyes tightened. "And what is the mission?" She crossed her arms. "When the Pavlichenko residence was raided a year ago, and MI-6 Operative April was killed by BK-201, we believed that the meteor shard in Mikhail Pavlichenko's possession was taken by Shion, his son, who was believed to be a contractor. We later found a shattered fragment of the shard had been transported inside the wall with Suou Pavlichenko, MI-6 Doll July and BK-201. And while the bodies of Shion, Suou, and July were found near the center of the gate, the fragment was believed lost with the disappearance of BK-201. However, it has come to our attention that PANDORA may have seized the remaining shard piece from the Pavlichenko home in a turmoil caused by the raid."
"They want me to steal it back," October said flatly. He should have realized.
Charlotte nodded, glancing at May. The doll stood with her hand pressed against the tree trunk. "They want you to find it, remove it, and plant it on the CIA."
His eyes widened. "Are they trying to start an international intelligency war?"
"You're not going in alone, but you're not going in with an ally. A syndicate contractor by the Messier Code of ZG-000. That's all I know. It's all straight from the top - we can't help you."
October laced his fingers together and slid onto the bench of the picnic table. "You're sure, Charlotte?" Although October didn't bother to think long on the why at this point, he did wonder why he was the piece chosen to play. His contract was a minor one - a most preverse version of identity theft, for the price of eating candy. His offensive skills came entirely from physical prowess, and all those, skills that could be equally handled by a human of no supernatural capabilities. His strength came in baiting and stealth. Steal a name, steal a handprint, steal a voice. Handy, but not necessarily offensive. He was a bit player, even in his own unit. August, the other contractor, was the fire, with an explosion based contract. So why would MI-6 choose to send him, of all their contractors, to Japan to break into PANDORA and the CIA? Charlotte nodded.
"There's one more thing I need to tell you, October 13. Should ZG-000 defect from the mission, you're ordered to kill him immediately. I surmise that his orders are the same." There was a note of worry in her voice. Looking up at her, he realized that she was worried. She was human, she formed sentimental attachments - even to contractors. He stood up. If pressed, he would admit that he was quite fond of them aw well. Seven years he'd been with this unit, thirteen years with MI-6. He wasn't sure how he'd accomplish this without them. But he would, of course. October 13 was a contractor in her Majesty's secret service, and he would do what he was told.
"Understood. Anything else?" He chimed brightly, standing up again. Charlotte shook her head. He nodded, shoving his hand into his pocket. Waving over his shoulder, he turned to leave. Soft weight collided with his back, arms flying around his chest from behind. Surprise flashed across his face. "May?" Her thin arms tightened momentarily before she let go and said flatly, "Stay safe."
Funny doll. He smiled. Turning around, he bent to kiss her forehead and tucked a colourful candy into her hand. She stared at it for a moment before nodding and looking at Charlotte, whose fingers dug into her arms. "Come back," she demanded. Chuckling, he turned and left.
The ride back to his apartment was one made in silence, expression blank. He wore earbuds in his ears, but they were silent. It kept people from talking to him on the Underground while he mulled over his objective. After the Tokyo Explosion, rumours circled that something called the Saturn Ring had been created to wipe out all contractors and was built into the walls of Hell's Gate, but was rendered useless by 'Special Synchotron Radiation', presumably from BK-201. It was being said to this day that the Syndicate was behind it, and that Decade was murdered by November 11 when he found that MI-6 was also involved in the mass conspiracy, because both the agencies were under the thumb of one unknown factor, working in the background. Thinking about it now, he could only think that it was a plausible theory. It would explain why he was to go in with a Syndicate agent. But he supposed it could simply be a matter of interest, as April and BK-201 were both involved in the conflict, as well as agents of the Russian military and the young branch of the Syndicate calling themselves Section 3. Charlotte had said he wouldn't be doing this with an ally - namely, it was still a race of sorts.
Everything he needed was already packed in a duffel bag, and he stopped only long enough to grab it, ask his landlord to hold his mail for a few weeks while he was tending to a family matter overseas, and throw on a jacket, before he caught a cab to the airport. The woman at the desk took his passport with a friendly, faked smile and tapped away at her computer. Sliding the tickets into his passport she handed it back and directed him to international loading zone.
He had two hours to wait before his flight, and so October found himself a quiet corner in which to think undisturbed. He put his earbuds back into his ears as he thumbed the edge of his passport page that declared that he was "Charles Valentine, Male, 25, English". Despite how long he'd been going by the name October 13, he remembered his real name. Henry Alwin. But he probably wouldn't even respond to it now. He tucked it away and pulled out a book to pass the time away.
B e a u t i f u l D e r t
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Selas Ashford AKA White Knight
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〖5:30AM Wales England〗----
He wasn't sure if it surprised him really. This nightmare was the same one that had been revisiting him for the last decade and a half now. That night on the balcony of his home, Terou and himself had been talking about the progress of their lives and how the syndicate was happy with their progress. He knew that this vivid dream would replicate everything that happened that night and that his friend should fall to a rather devastating and untimely end. Terou had gasped suddenly and Selas could feel the warmth of saliva on his face, it had disgusted him and as he turned to accost his friend he found that the light blue dress shirt his companion was wearing was suddenly stained with crimson. His own pale hand wiped over his cheek smearing the red liquid. It was blood, not saliva.
At this point in his nightmare Selas watched himself become distant and emotionally wrecked within a matter of seconds.
His friend began gaping like a fish out of water, straining to say something to his counterpart as Selas watched as the man's pupils dilated and turn white.
What could he do? He remembered thinking at this moment. Anything, anything to help his friend.
Nothing he reminded himself. The man is already dead and you should be running for the hills.
He watched his friends body sway momentarily only to drop the crystal glass of burbon- its contents shattering on the floor, Terou had taken one step back while shoes crunched the glass beneath them then he fell face first into the ground as if a bat had been taken to the back of his head. In fact, Selas thought that's exactly what happened for a moment till he turned around to see no offender there. Liquid onyx eyes darting around the darkness of their office to see no one, hear nothing- that was until he heard the gurgling coming from his friend from the floor beside him.
"Terou?"
The noise stopped and Selas could feel every single muscle in his body tense as red pooled beneath his feet staining the cloth of the man's body. There were no breaths, not even from himself. Only the soft trickle of blood running along the varnished wood of the terrace. His friend was dead and Selas could only stand there and watch, staring at his now cold body clearly nothing he could have done about it.
A knock from the door.
He jumped, his glass falling to the ground only to join the other previously shared drink, in a slowly coagulating pool of blood.
A gasp.
More shattered glass and porcelain, the tea that the Doll had been instructed to bring in only ten minutes prior.
It was all a blur from there. Unfortunately he was cursed with total recall even in his slightly buzzed state of mind. People from the syndicate writing notes, asking questions, interrogations, forensics, medical history, known enemies, (That was a laugh), competition (another laugh), and hours of a small confined room with a lamp and no coffee. Several other people that were in the building that night were questioned, and he was asked even more questions about every single one of them, any hidden motives and the like.
Finally, after an emotionally straining 45 hours Selas returned to his own home and did not leave for several days.Thankfully he would wake up from there, as anti-climatic as it sounded. Most nights however replayed the same dream over and over, though this time his friends dead body would be asking him the same questions. "Why" "Why didn't you help me?" "We were partners!" "Didn't you love me?"
This was his nightmare for the last year, and his daily routine hadn't changed since. Having had not only his best partner but the doll as well replaced, Selas found that he was never the same, though he would never admit it.
His new companion was Bael and for the last week he was told not allow a single person inside, and every single outsider outside of their home Syndicate or not, Selas was not taking jobs. There were no questions, there were no people, there were no words.
Selas only wanted peace now that the nightmares were getting worse.
His schedule for the last week and a half had been simple.
6AM: Wake up read the morning paper.
630AM: Shower and dress.
730AM: Tea and breakfast in his study- This was of course where he would spend the next fifteen hours to himself with a small lunch somewhere in between till-
10PM: Grab several books from the Library, return to his room and read till he would eventually fall asleep which -as his new Doll came to know him quickly- wasn't until two or three the next morning.
"He's screaming again Bael. He's not even awake."
"He always screams in his sleep, even before Terou's death." Or so he had found out, though he would never dare say it.
"You can't be serious..."
"Yes, if not every night, then every other night."
"You don't wake him?"
"Hah no... Do you think I want to loose my head?"
The man laughed lightly as he continued to read in the library where yet again another glass of brandy was shattered against the wall near the fireplace, papers skewed across the floor, books over turned, and another knife added itself in the wall.
"Should we clean this up?" The young girl asked, only to receive a soft no from the elder.
"I don't understand him, he allows us to live here because he's been with the Syndicate for two decades now and yet he doesn't ask anything of us. Does he ask things of you?"
Bael chuckled softly and shook his head, emerald eyes not daring to look over the papers he that littered the floor.
"You ask a lot of questions for a Doll you know." The man chuckled softly only to see her stare at him in return.
"Emotions don't interfer with curiosity."
"No, Selas does not allow us to live here because we need to 'babysit' him. He allows us here because he knows its better for us. As a team." He added the last part quickly
The young woman didn't reply, only sighed and continued to read the papers information about a new mission, one Selas would probably try to deny again. Even though she was new to the whole order of things here she still felt like something should be done to repay Selas for his... kindness? Was that was it was? No Selas was only doing things he knew would benefit the team. Living together apparently being one of them. Bael could see it in those soft hazel eyes and he simply rolled his own before continuing to read.
"These things are best left alone Alise. Don't bother if you wish to keep your job."
There wasn't a single word spoken between them for the rest of the evening.
〖6:30AM Wales England〗----
Selas woke that morning to a coal burning fireplace, tossed sheets sticking to his pallid skin coated in sweat, and a cut along the back of his hand. Half lidded charcoal eyes stared at his hand wondering where such an unsightly gash must have come from. Slowly he glanced to the side table, a very thin layer of dry crusted blood was stuck to its white marble corner.
Ah, so he was thrashing again.
He looked down at his malnourished form, his pale skin looked sickly and honestly made the bile rise in his own throat. He choked back his emotions and hid them behind a very thick and heavy mask which he wore every day while amongst other people. Well not as of late.
He sighed heavily moving to throw his feet over the edge of the bed. Cold sharp eyes looked around for his crimson and black plaid robe only to find it still in its haphazard lump on the ground next to his simple black slippers. The paper, that's what he needed right now. Slowly moving towards the hallway he looked around to see his home dimly lit, just the way he preferred it. The bags under his eyes heavy and dark as he took in his surroundings not a soul in sight or within ear shot it seemed, and as he made his way to the foyer of his humble abode he spotted the paper, sitting happily on a small table by the door. Unfortunately so was a manilla envelope waiting for him.
Behind him the soft shuffle of a dress could be heard and slowly he turned to meet the worried hazel eyes of his newest Doll Alise. Dark raven locks curtained his face as he stared at her with an emptiness that he was sure even Dolls did not possess.
"Betil demands this mission be taken, he was going to call again soon or Shen would end up returning to check in--"
Her eyes caught his hand and Selas could feel the harsh sneer forming on his lips. Her frail hand reached out as she began to say something about fixing it up and without so much as a word he swatted her hand away harshly. Flesh responding with flesh. He stormed off returning hastily to his rooms.
"I told you to leave him alone. You're lucky this time..."
Bael whispered from the library room doorway his arms folded in that all-knowing stature that made Alise shake her head. They were both new to the team, only a year was hardly a partnership to be proud about.
The sound of a slamming door was heard and the doll briskly went back to work.
Foolish Dolls... the lot of them! Whoever decided to program them with the slightest hint of care or curiosity is beyond me! I should have them pulled apart, tossed away! I should-- I should... I should calm the hell down... His shoulders slumped as he sat in his chair tossing the paper to the floor in front of the fire. He really didn't want to read it. He didn't care what the Daily Oracle said about anything these days. He knew full well it would probably be another title about something extraordinarily menial, or politics.
His pale face dove into welcoming hands almost clawing for the mask to come off. He was being unreasonable and he knew it, but he couldn't care less, not really. He wanted to be left alone, they all knew that and yet they still tried to lend him a friendly hand. No, what he wanted to peace. The Syndicate was ever persistant in their cause to try and get a hold of him for a mission.
Oh.
Speaking of which he should probably see what this envelope even had inside it, though half of himself was tempted to toss it straight into the fire. He told the Syndicate he needed a break, anymore and his mask would crack, he just new it. The pressure placed upon his shoulders lately had been too much. Yes, Selas was highly looked upon and a surprisingly cherished Contractor for their company. Having been around for two decades under their 'care' was proof. He was no laughing matter, hence why his salary was considerably higher then most despite being, "Trash" "Monster" "Beast" "Worthless" "Waste of space" "A tool". Oh it was endless really, but Selas figure that if there was enough money in it, sure... why the hell not?
Liquid black eyes scanned over the papers while pulling out a passport and in no time he had the information he needed. Of course, stealing back a fragment from Pandora and planting it on the American CIA after BK-201 went and botched it all up. Wonderful always having to clean after that dunderhead was quickly becoming a pain in his arse one he would rather personally have disposed of. Though just like BK-201 Selas himself was well known within the Syndicate if not for a different reason. Publicly known however, not so much. His Messier name ZG-000 was the only 'numberless' star within the Syndicate and was constantly sought out for missions.
Because he was a tool. He quickly reminded himself looking over the status for the mission.
"-No Dolls.
-No Contractors.
-Meet at Tokyo tower at 800 hours to meet with the partner for the mission.
-Partner strays from mission, kill on sight."
That was the syndicate for you. Short sweet and to the point, never beating around the bush.He read over the status several times before he stood up throwing it to the ground. He knew full well what was going on here but he would take it, and he would deal with it since the sum of money was so high he couldn't bother turning it down. Too bad for his 'team' they'd be left out. He sighed heavily and made his way to the shower, only to come out several minutes dressed and ready to go packing along a strange beaded necklace, clothes, and a worn leather journal.
He took his time making his way out, not bothering to say a word to his team, though Bael certainly didn't let him by without saying one.
"They want me to go alone, I'll be back soon. If not, house is yours." The words were so simple that it left the man stunned in his spot as Selas made his way passed him, charcoal jacket billowing in the soft breeze as he called a taxi for a trip to the airport.
〖10:04 AM London England〗----
Selas didn't stick out so much in public even though he looked very old fashion. Black herringbone suit, long jacket that hung past his knees, and his pale complexion stood out like that of a dolls, alabaster skin that contrasted the darkness of his raven hair. It wasn't long till he had a seat in the terminal opening up his journal, his liquid onyx eyes always looking around, but not suspiciously. It was always done with secrecy, every move he made was done with thought and revision. So, as he sat down and made himself 'comfortable' he took note of his surroundings. Including the young red headed man who stood across the way.
Apocolyptic Revolution
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OCTOBER 13. AKA CHARLES VALENTINE.
9:45 - London, England
There were times when October 13 wished MI-6 would suck it up and lend him a jet. It was a matter of practicality, really. When one had such a complicated, life-threatening, and downright absurd mission, that one might think the least a government like the UK's could afford to send that poor tool of a person to their possible final resting place on something a little more accomodating than public airfare. His plane had been delayed for the last two hours, and October was running out of patience. He'd finished his book, bought a book of sudoku and worked his way through in studious silence. Eventually, he even got out his cell phone and thought about phoning August, appraise him of the situation. August was not the most stable contractor. Actually, he was one of the most volatile people October 13 knew. The firey contractor had tendencies to get mad all the time. Considering his price, October found this to be humorously ironic. August was damned to practice etiquette everytime he blew something up. October stared at the lit screen of his phone until it turned dark and snapped it shut. There was no reason to phone him. Charlotte would tell him what was happening. So why, exactly, did the impulse still persist? Shaking his head, he tipped his head back to look up at the arrival board. Still delayed. Another thirty minutes until expected departure.
As he swung back to stare at the empty seat across from him, something got his eye. A flash of - no, it couldn't be! At a concession stand that stood uncrowded for its stupid prices, the counter was made of wood. A spectre. His eyes narrowed and he forced his body to seem relaxed as he watched the spectre shrink, like it was sheepish. "May," he breathed in a firm tone. The spectre lingered momentarily before sinking away again. As he lowered himself into his seat, his phone buzzed. Frowning, he pulled it from his pocket, flipping it open and pressing it to his ear. "Hello?"
"Charles! Where are you?" August's voice was sharp. He was in a public place, or he wouldn't have called him Charles.
"On my way to Tokyo, Ben. Has something happened?" August's alias, Benjamin Sterling.
"Why the hell are you going to Tokyo?" Ah, the build-up to August's rage.
"Ask Charlotte. Why are you calling?"
There was a moment of silence, before August spat, "Because, like it or not, we're friends, and friends don't let each other chase geese around the world to their death!"
October rubbed the bridge of his nose, not taking the time to ponder over August's declaration of their friendship. "May."
"Yes, May! She may not say much, but she's worried too!"
"Ben, you're going to draw attention to yourself," October snapped, dropping his voice. "I know, she's been checking up on me - which, by the way, you can tell her to stop - and I know what I'm doing." What a liar. October knew that this was insanity, and he was probably going to die.
"I hate you, Charlie Valentine, and you make sure your a** comes back here so I can kick it!" August demanded, and October 13 couldn't help but imagine him stomping his foot like a fourteen year old.
"You're offering brilliant incentive to do so," he said sarcastically, glancing at the arrival board again. Still delayed. "I have to go. My plane is leaving soon."
"Wait! Listen to me. If you need help, you call me, ya hear? I'm pretty useless in the field without you." August sounded as though he was trying to stop himself from saying more.
"I will." And October hung up, knowing he would never call.
Looking up, he noted a very old fashioned man taking a seat across from. He first thought the man was asian, with black hair, indecipherably black eyes, and alabastair skin, but after a moment, his brain informed him that the man in a picture of monochromatics was not asian - just very pale, as though he spent a great deal of time locked in a study or library. He reminded himself that it wasn't fair to assume much about a man by his appearance. For himself, he was dressed in dark blue three-quarter sleeve shirt, dark fitted jeans, shiny black shoes, and a double breasted grey jacket. His long, impossibly red hair was pulled back in a ponytail. He glanced at the arrival board. Stupid plane. October was surprised by the stab of annoyance he felt. Lazily, conversationally, he said, "So where are you going this morning, stranger?" October fixed the man with his brilliant blue eyes, lips quirked into the smallest knowing smirk. Maybe it was just paranoia, but he had suspicions.
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Selas Ashford AKA White Knight
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The low hum of the terminal, white noise of the screens, deep chatter of the people, mixed with his paranoia of the public was never a comforting feeling. Selas despised being in the open, and most of all he loathed people. Now, this isn't to say that he hated those he worked with, they were jsut a slight inconvenience to him if anything. Selas' heart (If he still had one) was firmly locked away in the corner of his chest cavity surrounded by barbs and needles. It was unable to be reached or to escape. He didn't really want the damned thing honestly, other than its sole use of keeping him alive by pumping blood through his system, he could really do away with the emotions that came along with it.
Friendship, camaraderie, trust... They were all useless to him. These things were better taken care of alone, without someone carrying you down, or pushing you around. This had always been his view on it. Hadn't it?
A heavy sigh fell through pallid lips and his shoulders sagged visibly. So that was his thought process these days was it? Go solo or not at all? He pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration, the familiar bite of an oncoming headache inching its way into his skull. Eyes shut tight in annoyance, he tried fiercely to shut out any sound from his mind. Selas groaned and rolled his eyes, thin boney hands ran down his face, and just as he peaked over the tips of his fingers a light caught the corner of his vision.
It wasn't a bright light per-say , but it was dim and hallow like a ghost-
'oh'
A specter of course, his luck again he supposed. Well, there were only two sides of this coin, and it was exceptionally simple. One, someone was after him, or two, the specter was looking for it's partner.
'Oh, how curious...' Selas mused internally, watching as the red-headed man caught view of it as well. At least that's what he believed the fleeting glance was. His own however, had been redirected to his journal before anyone could notice.
Eventually the headache won out. Selas wasn't really surprised either, he was almost egging it on at this point. It only got worse when someone's phone decided to go off, and the menacing headache chose then to take action. Of course it was the red-headed young man across the way. Go figure really, a young attractive man like himself would have the phone ringing every few minutes to assure his safety and well-being. He could only hope the boy wouldn't be on his flight-
"On my way to Tokyo Ben...-"
Well s**t. Selas' eyes narrowed darkly and a sneer formed on his lips. He should have known from the start, it was his luck after all. Selas was already preparing himself for the boys impertinence of keeping his cell phone on during the flight. He could only hope he would get a seat very-very far away from this boy.
He shook his head slowly, that was enough thought for now, that headache was going to become his best friend in the span of the next several hours, and he knew it. Sela's had a half an hour before his flight was leaving, so he lifted his leather bound journal to his face once more, tuned out his surroundings, and began to read.
He swore not even thirty seconds passed.
"I have to go now, my plane is leaving soon."
Fingers gripping in irritation Selas glared up at a clock. No, he if had heard eavesdropped correctly, the man was taking the same flight to Tokyo he was. A thin brow arched in curiosity and Selas found himself wondering if the young man was itching for peace not unlike himself.
'No, no, of course not.' Selas reminded himself that a young handsome man like the red-head would most likely be an arrogant, simple-minded, conceited prat who had no consideration for anyone but himself. He could only thank whatever deity was watching over his petty soul that the noise had somewhat subsided and he could read in a relative peace. Yes reading was always key for him, even his own fortunately. His delicate calligraphic scrawl over the old withering pages looked ancient these days compared to the disgusting scrawl of short hand that he so commonly saw amongst those who 'texted' each other.
He really was old.
Possibly one, no maybe two minutes passed before the sound of footsteps shook him from his reverie. Closer and closer the footsteps approached and Selas pretty much had his nose buried in his journal. So much for that idea though.
"So where are you going this morning, stranger?"
Biting back every single retort and sarcastic comment in his arsenal of snark, he slowly lowered the book down to his lap and closed it, not bothering to mark his spot- he hadn't really been reading anyway. Selas slowly turned his head to meet that of the red-head. Ah, so the voice did sound familia-
'Oh'
Crystalline lapis orbs were staring at him and whatever greeting he was going to say was locked in his throat. Oh those eyes, sharp, bright, and beautiful, stunning. He was entirely caught off guard and for a split second he could of sworn it was Terou sitting right beside him.
It was only for a moment that his onyx eyes had slightly widened in partial shock before narrowing on the man before him. He silently cursed the red-head for taking him off guard before swallowing thickly, his thin lips pulled into a soft smile. It was his mask of course, a carefully crafted façade which he had learned to wear for three decades now.
"My flight is scheduled to Tokyo, not unlike yours."
The heavy baritone voice was accompanied by a soft chuckle and Selas rose his hands in mock surrender, and apologized. A slight twitch in his jaw as he tried to figure out what emotions to play next.
"I'm sorry I overheard your conversation, I hear you are leaving to Tokyo as well correct?"
Apocolyptic Revolution
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OCTOBER 13. AKA CHARLES VALENTINE.
London, England
October found himself both amused and suspicious. He watched the finite movements of the man's face, like it could only move so much towards an emotion before it hit a wall and stopped, and his dark onyx eyes, cool and distant. There were a couple of extremely useful side effects to October's "talent". One of them was the ability to read people's faces - a mundane skill, to be sure, but ultimately very helpful. This man, however, was book that would not open more than a crack, a crack so dark that one cannot see if there are words on the page, or if they are all blank. The gentle closing of the old fashioned leather bound book in his lap seemed very deliberate. October could see the snark forming on still lips and wondered vaguely if the older man was so unsociable all the time. The man turned to look at him, eyes flashing faintly with disdain, a scorn on his lips - and it disappeared. October didn't know why, but the man's face sparked with a split second of recognition. Not recognition of October, though. Recognition of someone who October reminded him of. The redhead slid into the seat one over from the old-fashioned man. "My flight is scheduled to Tokyo, not unlike yours," the man said. His voice sounded controlled. October pondered the insincere smile as he apologized for eavedropping. There was twitch in his jaw. Ah, so he was irritated. One of October's favourite things about being a contractor? Not caring about irritating other people.
He smiled brightly, a smile that was as close to sincere as a contractor could get. "It's an airport - eavesdropping is to be expected. But you're right, I too am bound for Tokyo," he said lightly, leaning into the seat, not at all as though he was conversing with a stranger. His blue eyes were intense, fixed on the eyes of the man. "And what would draw you to such a place? Forgive my presumption, but you don't look happy about the it." He didn't even look as though he belonged in the airport, October 13 thought. He looked as though he belonged in a study with walls lined with books, during the night, nursing a brandy and reading by the light of the fireplace, the only source of light. But that was just nostalgia. He knew the man was more than he seemed. October thought he saw him react to May's specter earlier. Maybe he was being paranoid but with such an insane mission at hand, he was better safe than sorry. He was sure that he and this ZG-000 would run into competition before this was over.
[[Ah, I'm sorry it's short - they always are when it comes to conversations. I'm curious though, how old is Selas, roughly?]]
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Selas Ashford AKA White Knight
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〖10:15 London England〗----
Selas calmed his thoughts, there was no way that this man could ever remind him of his beloved Terou, it simply wasn't possible. So what if the red-headed fellow had deep blue orbs that caught the indirect lights making them shine brilliantly.
Wait what? Was he really thinking that? No of course not, he quickly denied any thoughts of such a captivating gaze and mentally shook his head in disgust. Selas would stop that train of thought straight on its tracks. Though with a soft breath he watched the mans gaze brush over his form, assessing him of course. If Selas was correct this man had indeed seen the compromising specter a few moments ago. He held his breath for a moment, his thoughts whirring by in a flash.
If the man was following him Selas would have caught it before he made it to the terminal.
If the man were here to kill him the contractor would have done it by now in one form or another.
However the man was here to catch his flight to Tokyo, or so he had said.
And oddly enough he was currently trying to make friendly conversation, -or so it seemed, and yet Selas found no hint of a warning that he should be cautious or take this man down where he stood.So instead he chose to indulge the younger man and continue their conversation watching as the young mans lips pulled into a... very un-contractor like smile. Yes Selas knew not to be deceived by the emotions that contractors could pull off, himself included had a very dark array of them.
Another soft smile pulled at his lips and he listened to the young mans question of why he was bound for Tokyo to begin with. If he could be honest he would say that he would be home enjoying the warmth of his fireplace and the company of his brandy had he so desired. Unfortunately it was important business that brought him here, so what better than the truth at this point. He was sure that the young man had no interest in his own personal life and would leave it at that. Besides he was probably going to Tokyo for some sort of vacation or possibly even an over seas sweetheart. The thought made his stomach turn and he fought back a sneer, continuing to school his features into that fake mask. Across the way the large schedule board which held the status for each flight flashed and the Tokyo bound plane would be boarding in fifteen minutes. It was about time really, though Selas hadn't be waiting for long he could only hope that the conversation would be cut short and he could get on with his peace and quiet.
"Ah yes, Business brings me to Tokyo this weekend. Hopefully not for long." He added quickly a small nod of his head in recognition that he really didn't wish to be here in the first place. No one needed to be skilled in the art of observation to know that Selas was not a person who enjoyed the public, let alone being out doors. His pallid white skin was enough proof to being with and the sharp features and shallow eyes only added to his 'hermit' look. He had very thin eyes, almost to where he looked of Asian decent along with his obsidian eyes. Though if one were looking close enough, they were not black, but a very deep dark brown, something that many people missed, even in his own passport.
Selas dared to think that he was growing curious himself though he would never admit it out loud. He kept his questions to himself and pried when only necessary. If the man was a contractor, what was he going to Tokyo for if not to see some over seas sweetheart?
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OCTOBER 13. AKA CHARLES VALENTINE.
10:16 London, England
The man took a moment to respond, as though contemplating how much to divulge. October took the time to more closely examine the man's sharp features. The sharp angular jaw line, the sloped shape of his nose, lips that didn't want to smile. His eyes were most certainly the most interesting feature. They were so dark, easily assumed to be black, but October reasoned that they couldn't be - he was a white man, Welsh, if he had to guess. As the hard flourescent lights caught, October saw the dimmest gleam of brown in his irises. Interesting. "Ah yes, business brings me to Tokyo this weekend. Hopefully not for long," the man said. October chuckled.
"It is a beautiful city, if you can get past the sheer population," he said lightly, glancing briefly at the board. At least they didn't seem to be delayed any further. As for himself, he'd been to Tokyo a many times as a young gate scientist. While his primary occupation was that of information thief and assassin, he had enough of a background to have a legitimate career. It was the same guise he was planning to use to get inside the gate this time around. The completion of the wall would surely have other scientists flocking to the gate for that reason. "See the city before you leave. It may not be there forever." His smiled turned just a bit mysterious, blue eyes undecipherable. "Pardon me, a slip of the tongue," he chuckled. "Happens when I'm in airports - I abhor flying." A lie. He didn't care about flying. There was no logical reason to be afraid of it - he was more likely to be struck by lightning. But people thrived on gossip. It usually did a good job of weeding out contractors too. October crossed his legs, one knee hooked over the other. "What sort of business takes you so far east?"
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Selas Ashford AKA White Knight
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〖10:20 London England〗----
Selas slowly tucked away his journal into his shoulder bag. A shame that he didn't have time to read it really he had a few notes he wanted to look over before he was stuck on a noisy plane with a few hundred people. He suppressed a sigh at the very thought and looked down at the young man, his fingers laced over his lap in a very elegant manor. "It is a beautiful city, if you can get past the sheer population," The man had said, and Selas nodded softly in agreement.
"I'm sure it is. Unfortunately it's the population which has kept me away. I'm not fond of... big crowds." He had meant to say people, though to stave off his normally rude tone he opted for the latter. Besides, he was sure the younger could put it together, it was painfully obvious that he wasn't a very 'outdoorsy' person. Though as the man mentioned that the city may not be there forever Selas shot him a worried glance- fake of course, but he was curious. "Happens when I'm in airports - I abhor flying." He had said and Selas caught the lie before he had even finished his sentence. No, the man did not hate flying, not in the slightest. His facial features, his muscles, the way he projected his voice, and the way his eyes tried not to leave Selas' as if to convince him otherwise, were entirely against his own words. Clearly the young man knew something about Tokyo that Selas did not, and even against his better judgement he found himself wanting to ask why.
But he did not. Instead he gave a soft smile and nodded his head looking up at the clock, only a few minutes before they were to board the plane. Thank goodness it looked like their conversation was drawing to a close, well, Selas had thought it was till the red-headed man decided to speak again.
"What sort of business takes you so far east?" Bollocks. He mentally rolled his eyes, he should have known that the question had been coming, and surprisingly without missing a beat he gave his answer.
"I'm a pianist." It wasn't a lie per-say, Selas was exceptionally talented in the art of music when he was younger and had he not been a contractor perhaps that would be the kind of life he would be living these days.
He wondered if it was too late to run away now.
He laughed internally.
Of course it was.
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OCTOBER 13. AKA CHARLES VALENTINE.
10:23 London, England
October smiled, knowing his lie was caught and disregarded. What intrigued him, though, was the disregard regarding the gate. Not even a single query about the possible decimation of Tokyo. Either the man didn't hear it - impossible-, was well appraised to the possibiliy, or was a contractor. October 13 put his guess on the last, but would not say for certain. Logically, the only other contractor likely to be heading to Tokyo today would be ZG-000 and one might assume such a highly sought after tool would see a little bit more sunshine. Oh, but there he goes, making presumptions again. The man was probably just tired of the conversation and willing the annoying red-head to go away. "Lovely. Perhaps I will chance upon seeing you play," he said lightly. It was unlikely, considering the size of the city, but October did enjoy a good show of artistic endeavours once and again.
The intercom buzzed, "Would passengers boarding flight BA113, bound for Tokyo at 10:30 please make their way to gate 4 for loading. Please allow early boarding for those with disabilities or young children. Please have your passports and tickets out." It then proceeded to give the instructions in Japanese as people shuffled to repack their belongings, which had become free for the sake of finding entertainment, before heading to the quickly forming line for the flight. October sighed and stood, shouldering the duffel bag that contained everything he had brought with him. He owned an apartment in Tokyo - the bag was mostly for show and for the tiny bits he couldn't get a second of. Digging his passport out of his jacket pocket, he said, "That's us, I suppose. Lord knows, I've been here nearly four hours." He shrugged indifferently. "It was a lovely conversation. Good luck on your performance," he added in a genuine sentiment. It really was an interesting conversation. But now they had a nearly twelve hour flight to Tokyo. Lo, the times he wished they would just give him a jet.
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Selas Ashford AKA White Knight
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〖10:30 London England〗----
'You need to calm down you know? Stop making assumptions over everything. Nothing good ever comes from jumping the gun."
"I'm five years your senior here Terou. If you don't think fast you wont think at all."
"But you're jumping the gun."
"Thinking quickly is how I term it."
"Regardless, you're not taking the time to think and-"
"That would be the point of thinking quickly. Hence why I'm not dead yet. You would be wise to learn and do the same."
Their conversation had ended their that afternoon, about the closest thing to a fight he had ever gotten. Though as much as he loathed to admit it, Terou had been right, the one time he thought and acted too quickly could have ended up the loss of his life and boy did he have the scars to prove it. Though regrettably these days were after the untimely demise of his partner which had more then likely lead to his reckless thinking to begin with.
He was shaken from his reverie with another question and he mentally shook his head from his thoughts. "Lovely. Perhaps I will chance upon seeing you play," The young man inquired, a question of where he could be playing but not directly so. Selas smiled softly, tilting his head every so slightly as the man stood. Over the intercom the voice which called for their boarding sounded and Selas stood along side him pulling out his own old and worn passport, clearly having seen years and years of aging. Despite his dislike for flying and the general public Selas clearly flew a lot according to his passport. Hopefully it wouldn't bring unwanted questions to him seeing as the young red-headed man was so interested in him. That was honestly the last thing he needed, more questions, and Merlin only knew the array of questions this young man could come up with.
Slowly he turned looking at the Terminal, his liquid onyx eyes narrowed at the small line of people. If they went now, they could get reasonable seating before the rest. "That's us, I suppose. Lord knows, I've been here nearly four hours." The red head inquired, and Selas could only roll his eyes now that his back was turned.
"How unfortunate..." Came the low drawl that was barely passing on politeness as he strode off to the terminal line, leaving the young man behind without saying another word. Politeness or not, Selas wanted to get out of there and into Tokyo as soon as possible with having to speak to few people as possible, the sooner their conversation was over with, the better. For the both of them.
When he finally boarded the plane he took his seat near the front a window seat with only one chair beside him, and thankfully no middle section till a few rows back. Once he was seated he began digging through his bag once again this time not only did he manage to scoop out his journal but a small mp3 player. He looked at his curiously, wasn't this one of those hand held music players that every kid had with him these days? Why in the world would he have on in his bag. He flipped the thin piece of metal around in his hands, black with a unique silver design, hadn't he seen Alise walk around with this thing before? He fumbled with it for a few moments flicking the screen around curiously till he found the music section.
His classical music was alphabetized.
He stared at it disbelievingly. Alise had gone through all this trouble just so he would have some music he enjoyed to listen to on the plane. He was dumbstruck, the last person to ever consider doing something so nice for him was Terou. Slipping in an ear bud he clicked the play button only to hear Chopin's Nocturne in E Flat Major. It sounded magnificent and he was struck stupid with the blatant disregard he had given these little devices for years. He slipped in the other ear bud and was immediately taken into his beloved world of classical music. A small smile graced his lips, genuine this time as he flipped open his journal and his fountain pen and began to scribble away. Though it was not words that he was writing. With the sudden burst of... dare he say, happiness? He began to compose music across a few sheets of paper in the back of his journal, away from the notes of research and articles that cluttered the front.
It was strange for him, that was for sure. Such a spur action of this kindhearted gesture and Selas was in a better mood than he had been in several minutes ago. It was visible on his features as well. Relaxed facial muscles, laid back shoulders, crossed legs, calm and distant eyes, the small curl of lips into a smile, and his free hand which tapped gently on the arm rest as he played out the music.
Suddenly he was looking forward to this ten hour flight and the peacefulness that the music had brought to him.
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OCTOBER 13. AKA CHARLES VALENTINE.
10:30 London, England
October's smile dimmed to a hollow, bemused smirk as the man turned his back, out of patience for the youth. Of course, it wasn't as though October cared all that much if he'd irritated the man. But what an amusing specimen the alabastair skinned fellow was. He asumed he would never see the man again. Like he'd said earlier, Tokyo was a city with millions of people. It wasn't as packed as London, but it was big enough to never see the same face twice. October had a mission and very clear instructions. If he defects, terminate immediately. If October himself defects, he would most likely also be immediately terminated. He queued into the line behind the man, handed the attendant his passport and passed onto the plane with only a murmured, "Thank you." He contemplated sitting just behind the man, perhaps irritate him futher with polite chatter, but decided it would be a rather silly and unnecessary endeavour that would eventually bite him in the a**. It was a very long flight after all. If the man was a contractor, after a while, everyone would probably be sleeping or deeply immersed in some task and the man could delegate some terrible fate upon October, as his own contract was nearly entirely useless in combat. So he slid into a window seat four rows back, on the other side of the plane. Before someone could drop into the seat next to him and administer the same annoyance as October had to the man, he pulled out his earbuds again, tucking them into his ears and, again, leaving them silent.
There was very little that music offered October. No matter the rhythm, the lyrics, the instruments, he saw the math and the raw humanness of it. It did not stir anything in him for there was nothing to stir - he was contractor. He felt nothing. October listened to the chatter of the plane, to the announcements and escape plans motioned and mimed by the flight attendants. After that, it was ten long, long hours in the air. October 13 was stiff and uncomfortable, silent. He stared out at the window and found himself thinking about his brother. His younger brother, Eldrid. He wondered in Eldrid even remembered him. He wondered if maybe Eldrid had married, or started a family, or if he had gone off to school. It passed the time, even as his thoughts turned to the Syndicate and MI-6 and PANDORA. The thoughts melded into one pool as October dozed off to dreamless sleep, and he woke in a moment of panic, the thought in his head that Eldrid was working for the Syndicate. The older women next to him jumped when he jerked awake, her brown eyes going round. He smiled thinly, leaning back into his seat again and finally turned on his music, letting it clear his head with its concussive percussion.
10:30 PM Tokyo, Japan
By the time they touched down in Tokyo, October was horribly stiff. His joints ached more than they should for those of an extremely athletic twenty-five year old man. Coming off the gate, he took a moment to shake out his hair and tie it back again and flatten his shirt. He was hungry and tired, despite having napped on the plane. Flying was so uncomfortable. As much as he would have loved to go to his hotel and take a shower and get some real food, he had an appointment. So he was quick to grab a cab and make his way to the hotel, drop off his things and select himself a covert weapon or two, carefully concealed on his person, before grabbing another cab to the Tokyo tower. His japanese was fluent - another perk to his power. Stealing the knowledge of language.
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Selas Ashford AKA White Knight
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〖10:30AM London England〗----
Selas was surprised that the young man didn't sit beside him to pester him some more, it didn't seem without reason really and Selas had no idea why the young man was interested enough to talk to someone like himself in the first place. He was obviously an old uninteresting person but the young man seemed adamant to learn more about him. If he was a contractor he would have dove for more information wouldn't he or perhaps even pestered Selas a little more? But he wouldn't question it too much he was thankful that he was left alone, and even more thankful that an older Japanese gentleman sat beside him, giving a slight bow before putting away his briefcase and cracked open his own book. Selas couldn't have been more thankful that the man was a quiet gent for the entire flight. Liquid onyx eyes watched the take off and for quite a while was able to watch the scenery fly by. He was a man at peace for a while before a child in the back of the plane began crying obnoxiously. He sneered coldly before picking up the mp3 player and turning it up allowing the music to crash over his senses once again. He would really have to thank Alise when he returned...
If he did.
He shook his head softly and returned to his journal to begin writing.
〖10:45PM Tokyo Japan〗----
It went without saying that he was shocked to hear that the plane was landing in ten minutes. He felt stiff and slightly hungry, but he was not tired in the slightest. In fact it was probably safe to say that he was in a relatively good mood as he got off the plane and signaled for a cab. His thin pale hand sticking out amongst the sea of black heads. Selas was tall compared to the Japanese seeing as he stood at a towering six foot four and could easily see over those who blocked his path. Once he got into the cab he directed the man to Tokyo tower, even though he would rather go to the hotel and eat or shower he really couldn't be bothered with that, the drive was approximately a half hour long and he needed to be there by midnight. Though once he realized how full of people the city really was, his stomach began to turn and he grew increasingly guarded and paranoid. Too many people, not enough time and hopefully his intended partner for this mission would be relatively easy to pick out. From what he had heard over the years Tokyo tower at midnight was a popular place for dating. Disgusting. He thought harshly rolling his eyes at the mere prospect having having to meet in such a place now.
Oh well, better to get it over with as quickly as possible. Selas placed his arm on the door propping up his chin with his fist as he waited patiently to arrive, observing the late hustle and bustle of the city. Ugh, he was already wishing to return home.
〖11:24PM Tokyo Japan〗----
The man was positive they would have arrived quicker if the driver had just ran over the people blocking their path. Apparently waiting fifteen minutes for pedestrians was no big deal here. A heavy sigh fell from his lips and he narrowed his eyes on the view of Tokyo tower, right around the corner, it was about time. After paying the driver and stepping from the vehicle Selas made his way up the tower to the very top and waited for his soon-to-be partner for the upcoming mission. Slipping away the Mp3 player and his journal into his bag, he stood off to the side, his long double breasted jacket hugged tight against him as he waited for his partner in the shadows of the tower watching as couples would walk by from time to time, clearly paying him no disregard... Or they literally didn't see him.
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OCTOBER 13. AKA CHARLES VALENTINE.
11:20 London, England
October forgot how many people there were in Tokyo. He was a Londonite himself, and it shouldn't bother him, but the city was ridiculously blaring. The lighted billboards plastering the city, the teenagers dressed loudly with violent coloured hair that put his own to shame (and his was entirely natural). London was historical - Tokyo was a jarring mix of tradition and innovation. As the cab neared the Tower, it got even slower, coming to a near stand still. October could see the spiring, psuedo-Eiffel tower, and decided that he could walk. He thanked the driver and paid him, before exiting the vehicle in the middle of the street and darting his way through traffic to the sidewalk. His joints complained with little fires all over his body. How annoying. He set off down the sidewalk, stepping nimbly past those who were stopped or slow. His fingers brushed against candies as he stuffed his hands in his pockets.
After only a block of walking, October 13 became aware of two people - a Japanese man and an Indian woman - that seemed to be tailing him. Brilliant eyes narrowing slightly, he slowed his pace and noted the other two doing the same. So he was being tailed. The question was, by who? It was a inquery for later. He picked up speed again, weaving through foot traffic with relative ease, passing idling cabs with passengers - probably even people who'd just gotten off the same plane as himself. He could see the sturdy block of FootTown, a four storey tourist mall/museum, and veered towards it, eyes looking back over his shoulder to see the man and woman glance fleetingly towards each other before they split apart. Definitely aggressive. October 13 ducked into FootTown, where the shops were about to close, but the restaurants still held open for business. The was museum and holographic museum were both long closed. He beelined to the wax house.
The indian woman followed him at a distance, but a shrinking one. October turned his eyes forward. There was one guard at the front of the darkened museum entrance. The red head stopped and procured his phone, flipping it open and pressing it to his ear. "Hello?" There was no one on the phone. The indian woman took the bait - she must be new at this. She made a move to walk past him, too casually. As she drew parallel, her brown eyes slid towards him, and her fingers twitched. A tell. Perfect. October dropped his phone, dropping and swiping her legs out from under her. The guard made a clambering move towards them, fumbling for his taser. October darted towards him, clapping a hand over his mouth, blocking his nostrils. The man flailed for a moment, clawing at Octobers hands and leaving gauges that nearly bled before he stopped moving and went limp. The woman was back on her feet, unafraid. October 13 took a moment to watch her charge forward on light feet. Her eyes glowed red, the blue drowned out from the flourescents.
October 13 grinned. The unconscious man in his hands jerked, twitching to life like a jerk knee zombie. "Ah, how lovely. A puppeteer," he jeered, stepping back quickly, but easily. No grin touched her face as the guard's hand went dumbly for his taser, turning towards the red head, who just kept grinning maniacally. The guard jerked towards him, taser making little zapping noises. With two swift strikes, October redirected the taser towards the guard and the man fell, twitching, unable to move for the electricity firing through his body. October raised his hands, pouted out his bottom lip and said, "Darling, I think I broke his strings."
Her lip curled, but the glow abated for a moment. "Then I'll just have to make do with yours!" she snarled, glowing again. Fast as lightening, October invaded her space, planting his lips on hers, hard, insistent, forcing hers apart. She recoiled, eyes going wide as his own took on their red light. He fingered all her pockets, until he found her phone. He took it, pulling his lips away from hers.
"You're the Identity Thief," she growled. Such an uninspired nickname, he had.
"That's me," he said cheerfully, before restraining her in the same manner he'd used to knock out the guard - from behind, his hand blocking their airways. He thumbed through her calls list while she struggled, deepening the gauges on his hand until they began to bleed. "Hey! Play nice, darking," he cooed passively, as he redialed the last number. A man with a heavy japanese accent answered and October spoke before the man could say anything, glowing.
"He got away from me." The voice that came from his lips was not his own; it was that of the woman, with the same accent that fumbled through the japanese language. The accomplice didn't notice a thing out of place as the indian woman clawed for his face. He merely turned his face away, tightening his grip. "What! You are useless! Where?" the man spat. Wow, no kidding this woman was so rude. With that as a partner? Chuckling inside, he said, "By the wax museum. The guard's unconcious. He's probably heading to the elevator." Again, the woman's voice poured from his throat. The tone was uncomfortable. Women's voices always were. The man hung up. October released the woman, who collapsed, gasping and choking, to the ground, while he snapped her phone clean in two.
"Son of a b***h!" she hacked, glaring at him with knives.
He smirked darkly. "Guilty." And he knocked her out with a hard blow to the head. October took a moment to tie her hands with plastic zipties and dragged her to the wall, so she appeared to simply be sitting quite glumly against the wall. As for the guard, he trusted the man saw too little to guess what really happened.
He abandoned the scene, procuring a candy from his pocket and tearing the candy out with his teeth. Grimacing, he made his way to the staircase on the top of the building. He hated sweets. Stupid price. Nine thousand stairs to the top. Considering he just told the enemy he was probably going up the elevator, he wasn't about to do that. That, and he liked the fresh air - it made him feel more awake, which would be very important if there were more people on his tail than just the two. It took fifteen minutes to reach the first observation deck. He glanced at his watch - 11:45 PM. His fingers were wet with blood from the gauges in his hand.
October hoped this partner had a more offensive contract than his own. He was tired, having now been awake from just under nineteen hours. There were dark half-moons forming underneath his eyes. His hair was beginning to come out of it's ponytail, bits trailing around his face, and down his long neck. The tall young man was beginning to look a little bit haggard. What a stupid, irrational mission MI-6 had sent him on.
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Selas Ashford AKA White Knight
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〖11:45PM Tokyo Japan〗----
His watch must have been broken. There was no way that a contractor on such an important mission would be late. Grant it he or she wasn't late so much as they weren't early. Selas prided himself on being punctual and he had drilled it into his partner's minds that they would be the same. Sharp onyx eyes observed his surroundings and he instantly regretted it. Nothing but flashing cameras and lovey-dovey couples, tourists that just couldn't say enough about how amazing the view was. Sela's groaned inwardly wishing they would just go to the bottom observation deck instead of hanging around here. Wait... Perhaps that's where the partner was...
A heavy sigh fell from his lips and in three great strides walked over to the elevator, jacket billowing around his legs. Honestly though, who would ask for a meeting place and be on the very bottom floor? Wouldn't it be obvious to meet at the top? Oh well, the glass was half empty he supposed.
When the elevator opened he noted two things. One, there were two people on deck. And two, one of them was the red-headed man from the terminal. Was this the contractor he was supposed to meet with? It suddenly hit Selas like a bat to the face. It only made sense that the contractor would come from MI-6 and not the Syndicate or else they would have said the name in the mission log to begin with. He stood there astounded with his own stupidity, why hadn't he just confronted the man about the specter in the terminal yesterday morning? Sure it would have been weird but Seals could have shrugged it off like 'he saw a ghost' if the man hadn't seen it. The situation would have been strange but not unheard of at least. So if this man was his partner than he was a defensive contractor since Selas was exceptionally offensive.
Unfortunately while he was side tracked by his own thoughts and staring at the back of the red-head Selas did not notice the man in the corner melting away at the metal railings with his own two hands. Contrary to popular belief Selas did have his days where he was a slow thinker, and today was one of them. Slowly he walked towards the red head, boots barely clicking on the metal floor as he approached, one hand outstretched till it landed softly on his shoulder. He narrowed his eyes slowly turning the man to face him as he inquired softly.
"Excuse me, are you..-"
Blinding white stars sparked over his vision and he felt his body sagging towards the ground barely held up by the man beside him. What happened? He was only going to ask if the young man was here to 'find a star', the code they were given on certain missions like these to ask other contractors that they had not met before. It seemed reasonable right? So why was he in such blinding pain right now? His pale fingers grasped as the mans shirt like it was his lifeline and his eyes looked up at those blue orbs that shined through the darkness. They were quite brilliant he'd admit...
"Woops! One casualty shouldn't be too bad though right? As long as we can keep you from your mission yeah?"
It was the Japanese man from a moment ago, a very thin smirk plastered across his dark features. Selas slowly turned his head toward the man, hardly able to see over his shoulder in the darkness. Though he didn't miss the man's hand, covered in red metal like a glove which slithered over his hand like little snakes. Ah, so their position had been compromised, fantastic. Selas wondered briefly if the man had been talking to the red-head or himself and his thoughts were quickly over ruled by 'I don't give a s**t'.
Narrow obsidian eyes closed for a moment before opening again, their red fluorescent quality returning to them as he began to concentrate. Slowly and almost unrecognizably every square inch of Sela's form began to scale over with small iridescent scales. Once they covered the two of them completely, the blinding light vanished and their forms disappeared. Of course they weren't really gone, just invisible. Using the air and water like a materialized shield and manipulated its properties like a complex mirror. So there they stood, as Selas held onto the man's shoulder, unable to let go lest the ability fade from the red-head.
"What?! Where are you? Come out so we can finish the job!"
His shouting was going to do neither of them good, eventually they would drag unwanted attention. So Selas stood hesitantly, wincing at the pain in his side as they stepped around the Japanese man who advanced on their prior spot, shouting about how they couldn't have escaped his grasp just yet. He rolled his eyes in disappointment, contractors were so predictable these days, and extremely unskilled.
As Selas reached out his free hand and tapped the man on the shoulder he would be met with a cold hand on his face, one that he could see this time. A thin grin broke out over his lips and he had to fight the urge to laugh at how easy this kill would be. Quickly Selas used the energy of the air and water and squeezed his large hands around the mans head. The Japanese man's eyes, nose, ears, and mouth began to spout blood and Selas had effectively squeezed his brain into nothing, his body falling limp as a rag-doll to the ground. It was a brutal tactic, one he didn't really enjoy using but he found there was no time for any of that right now. Soon people would be coming down from the elevator or rising from the stairs now that it was getting late.
As he turned to the red head he released the man, half of their bodies were still covered in the crystal like scales and as his eyes faded back to their onyx darkness the scales turned and faded into mist before disappearing completely. Selas met the blue orbs which held an understand and an expectancy for the whole show that went on. Yes, this was the face of a contractor.
"You're looking for a star right? We need to leave. Now."
