Disclaimer: Belongs to the wonderful Yoshida-sama

A/N: Yes it’s been a while but the muse for this is evil. And I was trying to get it sorted out properly. Again I repeat like I did in the last chapter that I have taken quite a few liberties with the facts and other things. And I haven’t proof-read this. I was too sleepy, and too busy going ‘finally I did this’ to do a proof read. So excuse any errors.

The Dark, created to hide the innocent white, the lust of night
Eyes so bright, seductive lies
Crimson masquerade where I merely played my part
Poison dart of desire.

- “Whoever Brings The Night”

Nightwish.

Chapter 1

It’s odd really. When I first saw him, it was only a passing glance. And even then it was a rather blurred one. He was with…… Helga I believe…… at the time. Yes it was her. Or one of the lesser female Orden members who worship and copy her…… No it definitely was one of her old followers who Isaak spared. I’d forgotten he’d killed Helga. Well whoever it was, their hair blocked my view of him. And I really didn’t bother much. I had other more important matters to attend to, than deal with new recruits. Though I distinctly remember the vague Isaak-like aura he emanated. But since that time I was, indeed searching for Isaak I brushed the feeling off.

The next time came later. Much later. Around three months. After I got curious… very curious about him, since Isaak and Di (Isaak’s nickname for the brat grew on me eventually though I still prefer calling him brat) wouldn’t stop rambling about him. It’s rare for someone to catch both their attention, since the two of them are only bothered with causing chaos and mayhem and trying to outdo the other at it. So the fact that a normal Methuselah boy had caught their attention to such an extreme that the brat had, had him promoted to his direct subordinate three weeks in, was definitely different. Di would’ve done it earlier, maybe when the Flammenskewert was still a week into the Orden. If he wasn’t fighting with Isaak over who got the Flammenskewert. (It was a very amusing argument to watch though. It even got to the point where Dietrich used his strings on Isaak. And Isaak nearly tipped a bottle of whiskey or rum – he didn’t know what it was. All I knew was that it surely had poison in it – into Dietrich’s mouth in retaliation. They’re way of showing each other affection is rather different from the rest. It’s also quite amusing.)

Not many in existence – besides perhaps myself – can claim to have such a hold of attention over the Panzer Magier and the Marionettenspieler. So I decided that maybe one day I’d perhaps meet this boy……. when I actually felt the need to. Which according to the arguments between Isaak and Dietrich I thought, might probably have to be soon.

Our actual meeting though, was completely by chance. Isaak and Dietrich had both gone out of the Orden Headquarters for their own respective work that day, leaving me bored and without company. I wasn’t in a mood to watch the petty Terran-Methuselah squabbles either. So having nothing to do, I made my way to the library for something to read. Considering that Isaak had stacked approximately ninety to ninety-five percent of the books in there, it was bound to have something to keep me entertained for a while.

As usual most of the other Orden members bowed down respectfully to their ‘Mein Herr’ – before scampering away in fear as they walked past me. I used to find it extremely amusing – the first few hundred times. Now it just served to add to my annoyance to everything in general. The fact that the Orden hadn’t completed half of its objectives didn’t really help.

I entered the library, and predictably everyone else present there got up, bowed respectfully, before fleeing for their lives; lest their Mein Herr get hungry. I really didn’t bother much. I was more interested in finding something to read.

It was when I was combing the library’s Pre-Armageddon collection for Stephen King that I really saw him. He was easy to identify considering the fact I’d actually listened to Isaak and Dietrich discuss him. He was there standing by a small couch in the corner, a stack of novels and books, folders, files and papers on the couch, three larger stacks around the couch, two stacks of files and papers on the tiny coffee table next to the couch, lazily jotting something down in a notebook, short messy blue hair unkempt, cigarette perched precariously in the corner his mouth. He seemed completely unaware of the outside world, oblivious to it, immersed in whatever he was writing. Probably the apocalypse could strike and this boy would still be standing there in his own world, amidst the destruction around him.

That dazed tendency to get so absorbed into their current work so as to be withdrawn from reality, made – for a lack of a better term – incredibly dark souls. In all his years he’d come across very few of their kind. But enough for the memories to last. You could never know what people like this were thinking about. Their minds appeared simple and easy to read, but in actually they weren’t. Their mind worked in hoops and whirls, and thoughts forming tangled spider-web paths, all situated in a deep never ending abyss. While they were in their own world, they weren’t mentally with you. And when they did bring their consciousness back to the physical realm their thought process would fade instantly with their daydream. They were two faced without even realising it. The phrase ‘Simplicity is merely an illusion’ was probably meant for them.

This boy possessed that quality. And I’d learnt long ago that people like him were one of the most dangerous types.

But then again, this was the boy recruited to join that long list of members that fulfilled their role, to end up being one of the Marionettenspieler’s Auto jaegers, or Isaak’s lab-rats for his experiments. Sometimes if they were well-bred, and managed to meet Isaak’s incredibly high standards they’d become my food. So I let that thought process die then and there.

The boy turned to the next page of his note-book and continued his lazy scribbling. For the briefest of moments I was reminded of Isaak when he was doing his thesis. He was exactly like this young lad. He had that same dreamy intellectual manner about him. Oftentimes it would annoy me, rather than amuse me, especially when he began his frustrating grumbles. But those few times I’d seen him like this, it seemed peaceful. Reminded me of those few precious moments when Abel would choose to sit quietly in a corner of the space-ship and read instead of whining on how he wanted the whole world dead. It was pure irony that centuries later I was doing exactly as he wanted, and he was trying to stop me now.

Really when will that dearest idiot twin of mine make up his mind?

The boy stopped writing, seemingly still lost in thought…… Or perhaps trying to catch a stray one? I don’t think I’ll ever know. Though I’ll put my guess on the latter…… And then without any indication as to what he was about to do; he dived into the books and papers he’d assembled, in a harrowed manner with a look of utter anguish on his features. It created a complete disturbance to the whole lazy, calm aura he radiated moments ago. It was simply intriguing.

His head surfaced a few minutes later, and his face didn’t lose its anguished look. If anything, I noted that it had increased three-fold, now couple with dread. Then he dived back into the now haywire pile of books and papers again. I decided to go over and try and help the distressed boy. As fascinating as it was to watch him go crazy over trying to find whatever he was looking for, I was genuinely curious as to what would disturb his earlier serene mood.

“May I help?” I found myself asking a bit too politely. He didn’t even bother looking up, but continued to frantically go through the books and papers. It was as if he’d not heard me whatsoever. And considering his state I was sure that he hadn’t.

I crouched on my knees besides him, and repeated my request. He turned to me, blue eyes wide and clouded with obvious anxiety. I don’t think he was even really looking at me.

“Uh… yes I’d appreciate it. I’m looking for a small thin red folder. I’m positive it’s here.”

“There are a lot of thin red folders here.” I stated looking at the mess.

“This one has a noticeable ink stain on it. One that’s hard to miss.” He frowned while saying it. As if he had his was that ink stain wouldn’t be there on the folder.

“This one?” I asked picking up the described folder from beneath a pile of books and papers.

“Yes thank you!” he replied all but ripping the file out my hands before rummaging through it till he found what he wanted. I turned my attention to the mess he’d created, before noticing that the boy was positively meticulous in whatever he was doing. More than Isaak. Perhaps so meticulous at to the point of being obsessed. Even though he’d ravaged through all those papers so frantically not one seemed to be crumpled. All the free sheets of paper were written in neat cursive handwriting. All were numbered, and colour coded. I could immediately tell the sequence of everything after my third glance over them.

Did – maybe – this kind of thing happen to him frequently?

Of course since I offered to help him, it was normal courtesy to help him clear the mess. And it wasn’t like I had something urgent that needed to be attended to anyway. The boy was fascinating and I wanted to know more about him. So I began to pick up the stray sheets and arrange them as I did. It didn’t prove to be a difficult task due to all the numbering and colour coding.

“So what is this for?” I asked genuinely curious.

“A school project.”

“A school project?” I echoed. He was so anguished over this? I had been assuming that Isaak had given him a lengthy report to compose.

“Yes.”

I found myself chuckling before I even realised I was. The poor naïve boy! School work.

“I don’t remember saying anything funny.” He stated confused.

“You do realise that you do now work for the Orden?”

“Yes perfectly so. How does that tie in with this?”

“I’m trying to figure that out myself. You’re now working for an organisation considered to be a threat to your New Human Empire. You’re practically a traitor to them. And yet you bother over an insignificant school project, Flammenskewert.”

He sighed then at my words. As if he’d had this conversation before. Judging by the tone of his reply, he most likely he did. “Yes of course. The Orden knows it, but the Empire doesn’t. Many people think I’m away at a school abroad, which I am truthfully enlisted for, and attending, … ah… uh…” he paused and looked up for a moment. It seems that he thought he knew me since I’d addressed him by his title. I expected him to sputter apologies for troubling me, and then bolt as soon as he got the chance, like the last time when I’d helped that Methuselah. I had Isaak send him on a definite death mission two hours later. The Flammenskewert to my surprise did none of that. Instead he continued on. “Ah Mein Herr.” He said adding a polite respectful lilt to my title. “I can’t stop attending since that would raise suspicion, which means I have to follow a normal student’s curriculum. Since I’m going to do that, I may as well do it well.”

He sounded like Isaak when he said. He really did. It was a strong sense of déjà vu since I’d remembered having a hauntingly similar conversation with him years before.

Finishing picking up the sheets I handed him the sheets, part of me still expecting him to bolt. After all as annoying as it was, it was not it wasn’t like the first time it had happened.

“Ah thank you.” He replied sincerely, taking the sheets, before skimming through them to make sure they were in the right order. Then stacking the papers carefully on the coffee table, he moved to pick up the folders and books, seemingly unmindful of my presence.

“Pardon my asking, but were you here looking for a specific document?” he asked conversationally.

“Not really. I was just looking for something to pass the time.” I found myself replying as I continued to help the boy clear up his mess. We found ourselves conversing after that. It was refreshing experience actually, having someone to talk to, who wasn’t Isaak or the brat. Though part of me wondered if the reason the boy hadn’t bolted yet was because he was under the brat’s direct supervision. Orden members one hour old would go as far as possible at the mention of my name, and here this boy was conversing with me without a care or doubt. I didn’t know whether to attribute it to stupidity, Methuselah noble pride, acute fearlessness, or part of his character.

But then I saw it, as he began to go skim through the files arranging them in proper order. Barely noticeable, through the concentrated gaze on his folders. But it was there. That look of being lost too deep in their own mind.

Yes indeed, this boy was dangerous. Extremely dangerous. This would be incredibly amusing.

A/N: Hm I wonder if I ended up making them OOC, instead of just getting my perceptions of them out?

Sighs! Really Radu and Cain. As fun as they are to write, I really don’t know what to do with those two.