The result of the meeting of two which complete one another, which are made for each other, is akin to that of two atomic substances, once joined they become something which is so much more than their existence was individually.
It had finally fucking happened.
He had finally reached the point where he would, without hesitation or remorse, murder the ever loving shit out of his roommate.
Kanda's white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel tightened further, eyes locked on the road and traffic around him but only seeing the many, varied deaths of his target. A low growl trickled from his throat and he slammed his fist on the horn when a taxi had actually had the balls to inch between him and the burgundy sedan crawling forward.
The light turned green up ahead and the fight was on, he heard the satisfying scrape as he shot forward, jolting the Yellowcab back a few inches from the impact. Swerving around the sedan he cut sharply in front of a convertible and bolted into a space next to a bright green Lynx bus, effectively jumping five car spaces before the next light halted them again.
A chime sounded beside him "Shit!" breaking hard inches from the crosswalk he pounded on the horn while a flood of people spilled from the sidewalk, "shit shit shit!" straining against the seat belt to reach the duo of cellphones in the passenger that had slid from the console. "Fucking piece of shit bastard." His phone had been going off all evening, as his mysteriously missing debit card always sent him a text whenever any transaction over twenty dollars was charged, and the only person to have been in the apartment that night besides him had been, of course, Lavi. Who had, in a no doubt planned attempt to avoid any contact being made, 'forgotten' his cellphone in its place. Before he had hit this ridiculous fucking traffic he had been scrolling through the contacts of the red haired menace for the past hour looking for any of the thieving asshole's friends who might know where he fucking was, "Pick up you mother fucker." but was instead met with a voicemail. Every. Fucking. Time.
'Hey bitches! It's me; you know why you called, so how 'bout sharing? Talk to me after the beep" he punched the steering wheel again, making a group of clubbers who had previously been walking across jump with surprised shouts. He flipped them off with a scowl, leaving his now well practiced tirade of demands and death threats regarding the whereabouts of the soon to be deceased investigator, and a searing remark connecting that particular voicemail greeting to various suicides among the greeter's circle of friends.
He already left a series of, barely, toned down messages with his own coworkers, but as it was nearing two in the morning his belief that they would know, or bother to assist him, were low.
Careening around the corner he left the tourist traffic of International Drive and slid onto a quieter street between a golf outlet store and a gas station, it would take him down to SandLake without all the fucking partying. Two am being the typical cut off time at most bars and clubs and restaurants meant everybody would be dragging their drunk asses home, and he'd have to deal with them.
He glanced again at the contact list. The bastard had so many fucking friends; most of them probably from other countries judging by the area codes, and the effort to search for numbers from this goddamn city was giving him a migraine from Hell.
The ping of another transaction fell on his ears like weights clinking onto a scale, pushing and pushing until it lifted his minuscule patience to the fucking roof. He was already going to kill the bastard, a serious threat on a regular day was now certain, it was the amount of pain he would inflict and length he would draw it out that was starting to accumulate.
His eyes skipped over a contact name that almost caused him to slam the breaks, 'That idiot wouldn't be so stupid, so exceedingly reckless as to have gone to him,' would he have?
He quickly pulled to the side and stared, hard, at the phone. Allen Walker, the block text was lined up beside a smiling picture of a silver harlequin mask with number and email, and he felt his blood start to pound in his ears. 'Yes, yes he would be that stupid,' and wasn't it just a fucking brilliant way to keep Kanda off his trail? What was better, this guy would actually help, from what he heard from Lavi and Lenalee and all the other people on the case. He would actually smile and say 'sure' and lead him right to the damn rabbit like a good little hunting dog.
He was certain in a way only a predator on the scent could be, instinct ringing with the thirst for blood. A malicious grin slit his mouth, baring canines just a fraction too long for comfort. The line picked up, "Alright, where the fuck is he?" right to the meat of it.
"Piss off," a muffled voice weighed heavily with British answered, and the image the people he grudgingly called acquaintances had been painting in his mind vanished, "do you know what bloody time it is?"
"Allen walker?" he ground out the question with uncertainty and immeasurable irritation.
The whisper of cloth "I don't know any Cross." Then the line went dead.
Kanda was silent, slowly pulling the phone away from his ear to stare at it, mind blank with the knowledge that he had just been hung up on. He had just had someone else hang up on him.
In his mind there existed a kill list, it contained the names of every person he had ever considered killing, from as far back as he could remember, and he had a very good memory, and this.. this... this person was skyrocketing to the very top tier.
Since the jury was out on if this man was Allen Walker he'd just label him "fucker that needs to die. Soon." and amend it at a later time.
Dialing the number again. The ringtone was some fucking musical score, upbeat and obnoxiously annoying and so very 'Lavi', god damn it but that was not what he needed right now!
He didn't wait until the man spoke this time to rip into him. "If you aren't Allen Walker better fucking tell me now because after I find that idiot Rabbit I am tracing this call and murdering whoever goes by that name."
"Fun times, sounds like you got your night planned. I'm Allen, and if you're calling about money owed I'm terribly sorry but you'll have to just get bent. I'm not associated with a Cross. So kindly fuck off."
"Goddammit I'm not calling about any fucking Cross. What the hell is a Cross? Fucking Westerners." The last line was a reoccurring thought plaguing his mind seemingly every second of the day in this fucking country. Find a language and stick to it. Fuck.
A mumbled 'sodding drunkard' and something about 'piss ups' and he was trying very hard to hold onto him verylimited patience.
"Who the fuck?" it sounded like 'fook' and Kanda felt that last thread of restraint hum. "This is Lavi's number, who the hell are you?"
"Kanda." he bit the name off. "I'm looking for that idiot, have you seen him?"
"The fuck you have his bloody phone for if you're looking for him?"
"Because he fucking left it so if you've see his ass tell me now before I rip your goddamned arms off and beat you with them."
A puft of breath sounded and the creak of what had to be a mattress. "He was here a couple hours ago, pissed beyond all reason."
"Where the hell'd he go?"
"Probably to finish his bender, dragged Cross and me to some pub near here. Don't know the town yet."
"The fuck? Cross cross cross, The hell's a cross? Nevermind, I don't care. What was the name?"
"What'sit matter?" The slurred accented voice whined. "Not there now, Lavi he's fun but he turns into a berk when he's pissed. Flipped me for some piece of fluff."
"Like I fucking care about your friendship issues, when did you see him last?"
"Like I said, ditched me and he and Cross, it's a name by the way, headed to some other location to shag who knows what. Left me with the naffing bill. Just as well, if I'd joined they`dve left me with it all night." The last part said with no small amount of bitterness, followed by a great sigh, making the speaker roar. Kanda felt his eye tick but before he could continue interrogating his only lead the man spoke again. "Look I'm acting a pillock, sorry. I get this way after a few, s'why I don't like to drink, but Lavi insisted and well, a binge doesn't hurt you`know? You need to find him? I can help. He's probably still with that wanker Cross, I'll give you directions to my flat, we'll look from there."
and what was better, this guy would actually help, from what he heard from Lavi and Lenalee and all the other people on the case he would actually smile and say 'sure' and lead him right to the damn rabbit like a good little hunting dog.
Flat?"Flat what? Speak English for fucks sake, every two words is some garbage fucking slang."
He laughed, laughed! That list, in his mind, underlined and in bold.
"I am speaking English you git. Flat means apartment."
"Then fucking say that instead."
"Look, I'll text you, since you can't understand two words."
"You just give your address to anybody who calls you? Fucking moron."
"Heh, you're Yu right?" An explosion of anger erupted in his gut at the name, his fist gripping the phone to the point of breaking. "Lavi told me about you, said you were a bog standard, needed a good shag. Can't say I agree with the former considering you're oh so impressive vocabulary, but as to the second..."
"Shag what? Carpet? The hell that Usagi talking about my decorating for?" Something crashed and he heard more laughter, no not the huff of a laugh from before, but full guttural laughter. "Oi, what-Fuck!" He heard the ping of a new message and restrained himself, barely, from hurling both phones out the window. The fucking hells so funny! Oi!"
"Ev-everything you just, I don't know what better, that name or the fact you don't know what a shag is. Really Yu, it's possibly the most well-known term among you Americans."
That explosion of anger from a moment ago was back, with shrapnel, and it was scorching the inside if his belly with its hellish inferno. He opened his mouth and let it lick out to verbally sear the bastard on the other end. "I'm not a fucking American you jackwit, so I don't see how some god damned useless word would possibly be in my daily fucking vocabulary. Maybe if you got your boyfriends dick out of your ear you'd be able to tell I have a fucking accent too, but at least I have the basic understanding that not every moron I talk to today will speak my fucking language and made the effort to learn how to talk normally to the people populating the place I'm fucking living instead of assuming that everybody in the world would magic-fuckingly know the retarded ass slang you use on a daily basis like every westerner seems to do and then criticize them like they're idiots when they can't understand the nonsense you're letting vomit out of your face hole!"
There was a quick, electrical beat of silence before the line responded with, "Seriously, you've never even watched Austin Powers?"
"No." he ground out lethally.
"Not even Harry Potter?"
"Shawn of the Dead?"
"I would rather kill myself with a power-drill!"
"Je-sus you're a nasty piece of work, what's got you so narked?"
"That fucking dipshit Usagi swiped my card and he's charging whatever piss he's swallowing to it!"
"Ouch, know the feeling, so how's about we stop titting around and look for them. They're probably cabbaged at some pub near here, so we'll swipe your card and naff off before he necks anymore pints." The phone jostled as Kanda could only assume the man was getting dressed. "Text you in a bit, Yu."
"Don't call me by that fucking-" but the line was already dead. "Kill him, I'm going to kill him." he sat fuming behind the wheel as he waited for the text telling him the location of who he knew would be the bane of his future existence.
Throwing off the covers Allen Walker wobbled to his feet, blissfully drunk and completely naked. The day had not been a good one, the night was little better, and he had been looking forward to the comforting embrace of slumber.
Oh he could have managed the time difference just fine if it had only been England to Florida, but shaking loose of the flimsy chance of a tail had them hopping a plane to Russia, a boat to china, a train up through most of Asia, during Monsoon season of all sodding times, and a relaxing week in India as he coordinated the rehab of their Orlando flat by phone and the magics of the internet. Now that he was state-side he was having a far more difficult time adjusting than he had hoped for.
It wasn't as though he made a habit of drinking, particularly in the points of his life where the potential need for escape was high, seeing it as the crutch it was. However as this day he was shrugging off the remnants of jetlag while fielding the tidal wave of debt collectors that flooded him every time they surfaced in any location, the thought of a good bender was more than welcome. So when Lavi had come banging on the door, half drunk and just as crazy, shouting at Cross about bars and booze and women, he had been happy to come along, to the surprise of both redheads.
So several pints and a few bills he really didn't want to think about, as it would kill his delightful buzz, later he had flopped down face first and bare assed on his bed and dropped into sleep like a stone.
Until the terrible sound of his phone wrenched him from it minutes later.
He was a light sleeper, one didn't grow up in the shit and piss of society without developing the appropriate instincts, as a lack of such would cease all aging in the charming form of death. Clawing his way up from the bliss he had finally managed to deal with no doubt another fucking collector, 'just fuck off please' he begged, digging through his discarded cloths before remembering that he had tossed his phone in the waste bin before leaving with Lavi, because really, fuck them all. 'I had finally gotten to sleep.'
Allen was not a rude person by habit. Inherently, by nature and by necessity, he was a mean, nasty little son of a bitch, but by chosen design he had cultured himself into a sweet, polite, courteous young man. And as a sweet, polite, courteous young man, who was shaking off a delightful buzz he had been cultivating for the past few hours, he felt the need to scold himself for the crass language and inhospitable tone used with the man on the other end of the line. Unfortunately his gentlemanly mask was as buzzed as the rest of him, and really didn't give a fuck.
And here he was, tossing on a new set of cloths that didn't smell like larger and tobacco, willing himself to find the energy, wit, and patience for just a little while longer.
Trying to tug on a boot produced an irate sound, like a broken car alarm. "What? Tim!" He removed his foot from the shoe and dug in with his hand, scooping out a small blonde ball of soft fur and teeth. "Well, if you don't want me squishing you don't sleep in my boot." He said to the crabbing sugar glider. The animal uncurled itself from its ball and adjusted its position to grab his thumb in its tiny clawed hands, looking at him with large dark eyes in its creamy face. "I have to go out again," he explained as he set Tim down on his bed, "I'll be back soon."
The reply he got was a sudden impact of small animal on the back of his shirt. "Tim, get off." He reached around, but the glider had already climbed up to his shoulder. "Tim, really, I have to go. Stay here." He grabbed at it, but Tim just jumped from his hand back to his shirt, disappearing in his breast pocket. "Tim, I'm serious, you aren't allowed in the bars." But when he reached into his pocket all he got was a sharp nip on his fingers. "Ouch. You little, Fine!" he tugged the shirt over his head and threw it in the cage, snapping the door shut. "Stay in there then, if you wont listen."
Tim barked from the folds of the shirt, rustled, then settled in to no doubt return to sleep.
Allen huffed, pulling on another shirt, then finished his boots and set about making himself presentable for company.
The apartment was a tired looking square among many unfortunate buildings on a nasty little street crowded with pitiful looking people. Pockmarked with bullet wounds and decorated over every reachable surface with graffiti, overlapping each other until it all smeared into indecipherable squiggles and blobs, the residents long ago giving up trying to keep the walls clean. One particularly enterprising individual had managed to spray in eye searing pink a large crude depiction of an erect penis all the way up the two stories to the roof. With a smiley face on the head.
He idled by the curb and text Allen to let him know he had arrived.
No sooner had he sent the message did a person emerge from the dark entryway, the security gate long since busted and the overhead light littering the sidewalk in broken pieces. Even from across the street he recognized the long, lanky young man from the photos. It wasn't a person one could mistake.
He had to be the palest human around with blood still pulsing through his veins. His hair was the stark, glowing white of sunbleached bone and as Kanda unfolded himself from the car to greet him he saw his eyes, darkened to almost black in the shadows, were a metallic gray color that shone silver as moon dust in the streetlight.
"What the fucking hell kind of haircolor is that? Fucking freak."
"Well hello to you too," Allen said, eyebrows raised in amused curiosity, as if he'd come across some strange new discovery, "it matches my thatch."
"Like I care about your damn accessorizing." he had noticed that, indeed, everything the pale man wore matched his wraith-like appearance, from the silky long sleeve button down to the loose fitting slacks giving his legs a shapeless pencil-thin look. He cut a surreal white line against the dark street. Allen just chuckled, as though enjoying a joke. Kanda did not like being the object of anyone's amusement, most certainly not this infuriating person he had come to hate from a single phonecall. "The fuck ever, just get in the car."
Now thatgot a different reaction, as the man sobered and gazed at the car apprehensively. It was a small car, compact bordering mini, and beaten to all hell and back from Kanda's less than docile driving habits.
"How'sabout we just walk?" he offered, turning his smile back on and jutting a thumb in the direction one assumed they would be going.
Kanda, who did not see a damned thing wrong with his trashed toy car, scowled. "Why?" he forced through his teeth.
"Because two am on OBT on a Saturday night is the one place and time you'll ever find a fifteen minute walk become a forty minute drive."
"You've never driven in Tokyo." the Asian replied.
"True that, but it's midnight rush-hour all the same, so let's get on."
"I'm not leaving my car out here to be stripped."
Allen glanced again at what looked to be the remains of a forcibly compact car with a raised brow, but shrugged and directed him to the carparks in the rear of the complex, then turned on a heel and walked back across the street.
Kanda swore at the loss of time, and again at the skinny white bastard who could obviously have given him directions from inside the car driving there, and then just swore, for the hell of it. Because: Fuck! Just. Fuck.
He kicked a tire with his scuffed black Docs and slammed back into the car, a car that did not look that bad. It had survived fucking traffic in Japan, and everybody had a couple dents and scratches, it was a city for fucks sake, he just didn't bother buffing them out. Waste of money. It was just a machine. It still ran fine, sort of. Sometimes. Sure it was a little moody in the morning, but that just gave it personality, and a good fight had always been a perfect way for him to start the day.
And what the fuck kind of apartments had carports in this trashy neighborhood? Locks just meant you had something you wanted to keep safe, which meant you had something to steal.
He turned into what was obviously a side alley, no matter how you looked at it, and barely managed to squeeze his undersized car around the corner where thoroughly abused metal reflected along the wall, graffiti continued around the building to announce the various imaginative, impossible, or illegal sexual appetites of the residents. It looked like a less than reputable storage facility. One door was warped at hood level and two others were completely missing.
He pulled up to slot 14 where the irritating little white-boy was crouched, fiddling with the lock. "The owners of the building remodeled two apartments to make these." he rose and pat the door. "my roommate and I don't have a car so it's mostly used for storage, your Beatle should fit." he grabbed the handle and yanked, the slabs of metal sliding up fluidly on well-oiled gears.
Kanda scoffed, mumbling 'not a beetle' under his breath and ignored the grin that meant the asshole heard him, but pulled in all the same, killing the engine and squeezing out, bumping into some boxes on his way. He keyed the lock and gave the structure a once over. The place was packed, but in a neatly organized way, ruthlessly, almost obsessively arranged like stones in the walls of an ancient fortress.
He turned to duck out when something white caught his gaze. Tucked in the back corner surrounded by boxes and barely covered in a stingy protective tarp the size of a beach towel was a bike as smooth and slender as a silver bullet, gleaming almost invitingly in the dingy fluorescent light. From the angle he couldn't figure the make of it, but nothing he did catch eye of resembled anything he knew.
"Thought you said you didn't have a car," he commented.
"What? Oh that, it's not a car it's a crotch rocket, and it doesn't work." Allen quickly shut the gate again. "It was a gift from my father, just another Kerbside ornament is all. Can't quite get rid of it." he snapped the lock in place and walked away. End of discussion.
Kanda frowned, but followed.
The walk to the line of pubs was indeed very short, and Allen was pleased to note it was also very silent. Not to say Yu Kanda wasn't pleasant company, but pissed as he was he'd tell just about anyone where they could get off, even a talent such as he-who-walked-beside-him.
He was something all right, a Good six foot plus stretched out into a long, lean, well-muscled body. Pure solid Asian, from the heavy accent to the waterfall of dark, glossy, hair tied ruthlessly on the top of his head spilling down past his waist and grazing the hem of his jeans, and oh did those jeans do justice to that bum. He'd have planned to tap off anyone with an ass like that.
Kanda kept pace with him perfectly, a scowl tugging at the edge of a generous mouth, lips firming with every short chime, his muscled shoulders constantly tense from the anticipation of a new alert and he continually checked his phone, swearing under his breath. Mostly various interpretations on the word 'fuck'. Just his luck Lavi would set up this meet and get him messy right before hand, the git. He tried to keep quiet, but the frustrated scowl just made him want to reach up and take a bite from those lips.
"Why didn't you report it stolen?" he asked when the silence began to chaff at him. Kanda paused in putting his phone back, scoffed.
"I want to hunt him down and kill him myself."
"You couldn't call up and ask for a list of recent transactions? Get the location of the bar?"
"It's a matter of pride." he answered. "I'm a cop, I can follow a trail." even if his bank account limped along afterword.
"You're mate pinched your card and you're first thought as a cop is deductive reasoning?"
"No, my first thought as a cop is where my gun is and whether I should bring it or strangle him with my bare hands." They turned onto the street, crowded with cars and people; it was two am, why the fuck weren't these people in bed? International was one thing, that was tourist central, but this street was nothing but natives with nothing better to do then sit at bars, complaining about the economy while pissing away what little money they did make on cheap alcohol. Someone bumped his shoulder and he snarled. "The fuck are there this many people?" he demanded, shoving his way through.
"I told you, most bars and clubs close at 2, so its party-dump out here. As a cop you should really know this." Allen apologized to the people they pushed through. "And that was a bus stop, so they were waiting there for a reason."
"Fucking bus doesn't run this late."
"A couple do, yes. And even if they didn't, it's a popular spot to wait for a ride, seeing as it has a bench and such." They paused in the shadow of a closed restaurant, where a few people hardly legal sat against the wall nursing a can of bud between them. Kanda kicked one in the foot. Figuring the quicker he started the faster he could get the hell out of the crowd.
"What you want?" the trashed youth demanded in a slur, blinking up at him as if the dim trickle of the dingy street lamp hurt his eyes. His slacken, drunken face split into a hopeful grin. "Oh hey pretty lady, want to party?" Kanda kicked him again.
"I'm looking for an idiotic redhead with an eyepatch," he snapped out, "with some other fucker, probably drunk, loud, and grabby with the girls."
The man scrunched up his face in total concentration before giving a shrug. "Sorry." He said, then leered. "Whats wrong, your boyfriend ditch you? Awww, that's okay, we can take you home. Right guys?" one of his companions managed a grunt, attention fully on the can in his hands, the other appeared to have passed out. Allen managed to pull Kanda away before he took his frustration out on the obvious target. "That your plan mister detective, asking every drunk you find if they saw a leggy redhead with an eyepatch?"
"Yes, and if you don't have any better ideas fuck off." He shoved him aside and proceeded to interrogate a group of college girls, with the same results and provocative invitations.
"Well actually I do have," but Kanda was moving to the next set, he had to rush to keep up. "Hey, look. I know some of the people who work the bars and clubs, I can ask them. It'll be easier."
"And what about you?" Kanda turned from the girl he was asking to her male companion. "you see anybody like that?"
Realizing Kanda wasn't listening he grabbed his shoulder and jerked him down. "Listen, don't you think the bars would be the best choice to look?" Kanda bit off his oath and glared. "They see everyone that comes and goes, they'll remember- HEY!" Kanda shook him off and stormed up the steps to the first club he saw and badged the bouncer, asking his now standard question.
The bulky man flicked an eye at the badge, then at Kanda, sizing him up in an instant, then back towards a middle aged man in a wrinkled business suit trying to slip his way inside. "Never saw them." He said curtly, before grabbing the man by the collar and pulling him close. "Didn't I throw you far enough last time Michael?"
Kanda gnashed his teeth, turning on his heel and storming back to the sidewalk as Mr. Michael flew like a trash bag back towards the parking lot. He hit the crosswalk at the exact time the light changed and crossed to the next bar without breaking his stride. Allen, torn between amusement and indignation, sat down on an unoccupied separation wall and watched the man work.
It was interesting, the watching of it. He had a powerful presence, the wide shoulders with powerful almost military stance, and firm set of his jaw. His long legs ate the distance between each bar and club in moments, he stepped smoothly into the paths of patrons when he managed to catch one or two this side of sober. The question wasn't always the same, but it was always short, obvious details. Tall, slim, red hair, eyepatch. He wasted no time asking about Cross, Allen didn't think he knew what the man looked like.
The security was another matter, as the badge got their attention and their backs up. Allen saw a few flick a glance his way, but he didn't bother with any indication as to how they should proceed. He was disappointed when Kanda let if fall as each gave a negative answer, never requested entrance or pushed further. Too pissed to catch a scent perhaps, or lacking instincts. Such a waste, all that energy and no way to use it. Perhaps cops weren't as clever as the books made them out to be.
He was a joy to watch nonetheless, pretty, which wasn't Allen's usual meal of choice, and a little girlish with his dark slanted eyes and sharp triangular face shadowed by razor straight bangs across a strong forehead. He also had terrible taste in clothes, was even wearing a long black trench coat in this muggy summer heat.
"You really are that inept aren't you?" Allen snarked from his place by the lightpost when Kanda came back once again with no answers. The look he got could curdle milk. "These people aren't going to tell a cop about a customer, especially if it's Cross. He's a regular, and a high paying one at that. You think they'll risk losing him?"
"I'm not looking for any fucking Cross. I'm look for that idiot rabbit." He snapped.
"Who is with Cross, really you aren't very good at this are you?"
"Fuck off," This guy was an annoying fucking waste of time; he didn't even know why he was even there if he wasn't going to be useful. "You're the one who said ask the fucking bouncers." Kanda shoved his hands in his pockets, the night was warm and humid but he never left the house without his jacket, people tended to freak when they saw his gun, which was so very annoying.
"Correction, I said to ask the people inside the bars, not flash your badge and start interrogating. People tell you much more when they're relaxed and comfortable around you."
"yeah, sure, I have all the time in the world to sit and talk with a bunch of stupid servers, and hey maybe they'll answer my question in between trying to sell me their brother's home brew and complaining about the drunk who hit on them. Fucking genius. You should be a cop." His phone chimed again and he swore, removing it from his pocket.
"I'll think about it." Reaching out a hand, fast as a striking snake, he nipped the device.
"The fuck are you doing?" Kanda tried to grab it back but Allen easily dodged, he tapped at the screen with a well-manicured finger, pleased to note that Kanda had either already unlocked it, or not bothered turning it back on with the frequency that he was pulling it out.
"If you don't want to follow the money, then the least you could do is follow your witness."
"You said you didn't know where they were." Kanda snatched at his phone, Allen evaded smooth as a dancer and tapped backward a few paces in the direction of the private clubs, pressing keys on the phone's screen.
"I said I don't know where they are currently, I do, however, have friends in the business who might."
"Give me my phone back, asshole, That's police property."
"I'm so scared. Arrest me." He tapped a little more, eyes peeking over the device to watch Kanda stride after him. The man moved fast, nearly had him by the arm but he stepped forward and to the side, just beyond the angle of his reach and had slid around him to his back before he could switch the momentum. "You're not very good at this." He repeated when he once again easily dodged a grab. "It's actually quite cute, the whole pissed off helpless act. Lavi said he'd set us up, since we've never been introduced even though we share more than a few friends."
Kanda surprised him by twisting suddenly and caught him by the forearm. Spun them, and pressed him, hard, face first up against the wall of some closed down fast food joint.
"You think you can just insult me without consequences, asshole?" Like hell he was going to be listening to this bastard's opinions all night.
"Well I've yet to see one, so yeah." He attempted to twist away, Kanda pressed against him with more force to keep him still and followed the line of his arm down to his hand where the phone was, "You plan on doing something fun with those hand's samurai? Because if not, I'd highly suggest removing them.
"Or you'll what?" He had him pinned to the wall, both hands behind his back now, though the phone was nowhere to be found and Kanda was getting seriously pissed. "I don't give two shits whose friend you are, if the Usagi planned anything it's none of my business, but it is my money and like hell I'm going to be made a fool of so show me where he is or I'll slice you to fucking pieces." He hadn't been expecting Allen to kick his legs out from under him, and that sudden move barely left time for his reflexes to sweep them around so Kanda landed on top, pinning the albino beneath him. "Fuck!"
Allen gave him no time to orient himself before he elbowed him in the collar, scissored his legs, and rolled to reverse their positions. "Don't ever try and fucking pin me." He rasped against Kanda's cheek, elbow still connected to his throat, a knee pressed dangerously against his groin. Kanda stilled at the applied pressure, but the buildup of fury only expanded.
"Get. Off." He bit the words with a snap of white teeth.
"I don't like to be manhandled." the shorter man kept his tone and gaze that same cold steel, "I would appreciate it greatly if you would respect that."
Kanda contemplated his response, as much as he'd enjoy utterly destroying the skinny little fucker the joints pressed to his anatomy were not to be overlooked.
Accepting a form of vengeance he nodded, letting the man remove himself from his person and stand before kicking a foot out and catching him in the stomach.
Allen doubled over with a windy groan.
Satisfied with himself Kanda stood and dusted himself off. "I don't like to be touched either." He answered, walking in the direction of the next club. He listened with no small amount of glee to the wheezing expletives, but couldn't quite make out their nonsensical meaning. British swears, in his not so inexperienced opinion, always came off too cutesy to be taken seriously.
Allen finally managed to stand correctly, palm flat against his abdomen, and shuffle rather pathetically forward. He was glad he hadn't brought Tim as the little guy may have been squished just then, or attack Kanda in his defense. Well, he had kind of deserved that, but he just wanted to see if the man had the reflexes his profession demanded. He chuckled. Lavi could be right, they may end up not getting on at all. Though he considered the situation and his uncharacteristic blood alcohol level at least partially to blame.
With a sigh he decided that cutting their association for the night to an efficient business hour would go a long way to keeping them on amiable terms. He wasn't nearly drunk enough, not at all, to deal with such abrasiveness. Rubbing a hand across his middle and hoping he couldn't have a bruise, or worse a breakout. He watched the indignant swing of the Asian's long dark ponytail, quite the distance away, and smiled. As long as he had the phone, the man couldn't just walk away. He wondered how long he'd have to sit here before he came stomping back.
Up ahead Kanda stormed across the pavement, shoving past drunk partiers and their sober rides, counting the concrete squares in the sidewalk. The whole night was fucked, he could see that plain as anything, and what was worse was the very believable possibility that Lavi had set this whole thing up. For what? So they could meet? Hadn't he told Lavi that he wasn't going to get involved with the investigation? Hadn't he told everybody?
He was only here to help Tiedoll with the new recruit, he had his own cases to work after all, he didn't need to be involved in some damn undercover op on an old traitor.
He knew what it was like, after all, to hate the Order. He wasn't hypocritical enough to hunt down someone who had the courage to do what he still couldn't.
"See, I know the bar they were at when I last saw them, and the woman who runs it might know where they went." Allen explained as they walked together down the street, the crowd was thinning and they could move easily without stepping off the sidewalk into the street to get by. "I sent a message on your mobile while I was waiting for your head to cool, she said to meet her there and she'll see what she can do." He handed back the phone to a murderous looking Kanda, completely disregarding the dark aura, they had stopped in front of a gentleman's club labeled the Doll House.* "it's this up here." He thumbed the air towards the elegant entryway of the club, guarded by busty sirens, sitting on either side of the door on pedestals, a trident in one hand raised victoriously towards the sky, heads tossed back in open mouthed wonder, manes of hair tumbling down backs to curl along the proud voluptuous fins. "It's a private club, they won't let you in without a membership. Best to wait here."
He almost asked why a boy who looked so young would be allowed entrance, then snapped his mouth shut with a click of teeth, because he didn't care. He didn't want anything to do with this, so it didn't matter, and as soon as he got his card and revenge on that idiot red head he could give the brat the beating he deserved for the stunt he pulled. Until then he breathed in and out, watching the young man disappear inside, the sudden glow from the blacklight inside lit him up like a scorpion before the door closed and Kanda was left on the porch like an idiot.
He spent the time consoling himself with ways he could enact his vengeance. Almost smiling when he got to the part of boiled rabbit stew served with a side of something suspiciously white.
The name may have been Doll House but Barbie was a long way from what you got when you walked in. The décor was a blend of the elegant 19th century gentleman's study and the smoky aired secrets of an opium den. Silk papered walls and satin curtains, wood tables scrubbed to a gleam and protected with enough clear sealant it may as well be caged in glass. The bar on the back wall was a wooden behemoth left over from the days of saloons and swinging doors, French as Napoleon's seed and a proud and true work of art. The stage was reminiscent of the roaring 20s where the girls, when it suited them, performed pieces in sheer clothing, or nothing at all. Otherwise they made their living removing what polite society demanded be kept on for the enjoyment of the drunk, bored, and lonely.
The waiters roamed the floor in provocative tailcoats, waists ruthlessly cinched and busts heroically lifted with the magic's only the truly skilled and tragically undergifted could perfect. It was a clean place with healthy bodies and charming souls, and as it approved of and enforced Orlando's 'hands off' code of conduct the girls never feared for themselves.
Allen hadn't told Kanda the entire truth, or rather had selected to omit the parts that he knew would create more of a scene than was necessary. The most recent of it had been that he could have entered the establishment as his guest, as the owner of the Doll House, Anita, was a dear friend of his Master's and had the tendency to dote on them both. The most pressing was that Lavi and Cross were still on site, and rather pathetically drunk.
He was led through the building by a good friend of his, Mahoja, head of security and the owner's personal bodyguard. She was an enormous woman at six three and near two hundred pounds in muscle, Chinese, and bald as a monk. She wore a beautiful qipao in bold colors that bared her arms and showed off her impressive biceps. Allen loved her, respected her, and was just a little afraid of her.
It was a smoking club, which is why Cross frequented it more than any other, and the girls who were off duty would sit with him and watch the girls who were on. Allen didn't know if he ever actually paid for sex, considering how many women he got for free, but he knew he paid well for everything else so really it was kind of the same thing. The haze wasn't all from tobacco, as the club used several discrete fog machines to keep the illusion of enclosed privacy. Most of the colored lights were off and the overheads were blared on full, giving everything a cloudy, otherworldly feel.
A few drunks too far gone to shamble out were draped over the cushions of booths and couches waiting for the taxis Anita insisted on calling for anyone too drunk to drive and too alone to bum a ride with anyone else. The club picked up the tab, though they didn't advertise this else they'd be left with every drunk on the stip.
Tables were wiped down and chairs were turned up, trash littered the floor and puddles of spilled drinks and body fluids that escaped the custodial service's notice in the dim lights of operating hours were plainly visible. The smell of alcohol, cigarettes, and musk were barely masked by sweet perfume and the crisp citrus of cleaning chemicals. Whatever they had been playing earlier that night, the thrumming, pulsing bass that had rocked him on his heels when he had entered it with Lavi and Cross hours ago, was turned to a soft whisper of jazz, which meant Sachiko pulled in the most money that night and got to choose the closing music.
Speaking of, the curvaceous redhead in her delicate pink kimono was cuddled up with Lavi on a daybed off in a private corner. On the V shaped couch across from it was his Master Cross, with a considerable number of the off duty girls giggling at whatever he was regaling them with.
"Well, you two sure got messy." He stood before them with hands on his hips, Mahoja crossed her arms behind him and watched him with amusement.
"Allen! Hey, Chomesuke, have you met my little buddy Allen? Isn't he cute?" Lavi shouted and tried to untangle his legs from themselves to get up and possibly hug said 'little budy.' Sachiko seemed to be struggling to talk around her laughter.
"Yes, Lavi, I've known Allen for a long time." She helped him uncross his legs and sit up, where he proceeded to throw his arms around her in a great drunken embrace.
"Chomesuke?" Allen raised both eyebrows.
"What? You don't think it's cute?" She asked, happy to continue being Lavi's personal pillow. "It's the nickname Lavi gave me." At Allen's continued stare she pouted, stating sulkily, "I think it's cute."
"Hey idiot, did you ever exchange those trash pounds for real money? The dancers don't accept plastic." On the opposite couch, nestled into the very center angle of the Vh, sat his guardian Cross Marian.
He turned from Lavi and his new snuggle buddy to glance at his guardian. Unlike Lavi, who was a tall, thin, boyish young man with wild hair that stuck up and curled over in many varied directions, Cross was an elegant gentleman, his hair longer, past his shoulders, and a much deeper red. Where Lavi had a simple black eye patch his Master hid his secrets behind a plain white mask that concealed the right half of his face. Plain, that is, save the cross running through the eye."It's past closing, why do you need money?"
"We were going to have us a private party." Cross had placed his favorite hat on one of the girls draped across him and now tucked a knuckle under her chin to lift her face, pressing a chaste kiss to the tip of her nose. She giggled and burrowed further into his jacket. Allen felt mildly ill from the display.
"I can spare a pony, you'll have to break it yourself." He stated, turning around to Mahoja he thumbed the direction of the bar. She jerked her head in a nod and went to total the bill.
"What? 25 is all you got?"
"No, but I have to settle your bill, now shove off." He turned back to Lavi, who was giggling somewhere among the pillows of the daybed, intending to retrieve the stolen property of one pissed off police officer.
"Give me a 50."
He momentarily forgot his little mission with the indignant rage of his depleted wallet."I'm not wasting half a ton on your womanizing habits!" He spat.
"Like you can't spare it with yesterday's pay."
Allen felt a muscle tic, but dug into his pocket for a handful of bills. He turned to Mahoja when she came back, so more than ready to get out of here. He still had to wrestle the card from Lavi and convince Kanda not to tear the place apart in pursuit of revenge when he realizes his prey is just beyond the doors. "so are we talking telephone numbers or is the price reasonably manageable."
"It's good, only a couple hundred, the Boss says they can crash in the suites until morning. Sachi- I mean, Chomesuke" She looked at the gooey couple making out with a smirk, "Is staying over too."
Allen bit his lip as he watched one of his good friends playing tonsil hockey with another. There really was no conceivable level of awkward. He knew Sachiko since they were kids. This was why he didn't follow them into the Doll House, too many of the girls were too well known to him. It didn't help that he had absolutely no interest in seeing a topless woman, friend or otherwise.
He passed her his, untraceable, prepaid card and prepared himself for separating the fused gingers.
"Lavi, Yu Kanda is here." He began after a moment of thought.
"Yu-chan?" he broke away and stood up so fast he tripped over his, and Sachiko's, entangled legs. "Yu-chan is here?' He looked around wildly "Yu-chan! Hey, Yu-Chan come out! I want you to meet someone!" Sachiko and Allen struggled to help the flailing man stand. "Yu-chan, I want you to meet Allen! And Chomesuke, They're both really cute yeah? But Chomesuke's mine, so you can only have Allen, because I don't swing that way even though he's way cute and would totally be worth it but he has no boobs, like not even an A cup, and Chomesuke has really nice ones and she lets me touch them."
"Okay, you can go back to kissing him now Sachiko, before that guy hears him through the walls and breaks down the door to kill him."
"Oh, hey Allen, do you know Chomesuke, she's the greatest isn't she?"
"Yes Lavi, she's great. Now how about you hand over the card you have so I can keep your friend from killing you." They had managed to wrestle him back onto the cushions and Allen held his hand out expectantly. "He's been tearing ass all night looking for you, and I think he's armed."
"He's always armed." Lavi snickered. "Careful Allen, or his special arm will get you. Cute kid like you would be just the thing he needs." Allen rolled his eyes.
"Yeah Lavi, we're totally going to go to his place and have wild, unprotected sex, then I'll get pregnant and bear him three sons. Now give me the card. I'm tired and I need a sugar hit."
"Are you low?" Mahoja came back with his card and receipt. "I'll get you a cola, hold on."
"Thanks, but I'd rather get my friends card and head home."
"Boy give the kid the card before I make you scrub the floors to pay for the room. You know what drunks do to bar floors every night? I'll be back with a soda." And she was gone back to the bar in her surprisingly silent steps over the hard wood floor. Lavi pouted, but dug through his pockets for the flimsy plastic that had been such an adventure to acquire.
Allen met Mahoja back at the entrance, excepted the plastic cup of fizzing brown liquid and tried to resist running his tongue over his teeth in trepidation. The headache skulking behind his eyes persuaded him that the battle ahead was best faced without a sugar attack, and he downed it in three gulps. Took a deep breath, and exited the building to face the wrath of a vengeful samurai.
Allen sighed when he circled back to his building. He hated how there was no entrance near the carparks, those last few steps felt like forever, but he managed to drag himself to the busted security gate and up to his door. He owned the entire right side of the second and third floors, and he was fairly certain the apartment opposite his was vacant since that one guy got evicted.
Every bone and muscle throbbed in time with the pounding in his head. He hadn't eaten in three hours, he had spent a monkey and more on booze and women that night and hadn't enjoyed much of either, and he was fairly certain the corrosive contents of that soda were jack hammering their way through the enamel of his teeth.
Entering the wide open space of the front room he kicked off his boots, crossed to the kitchen, and searched desperately for his glucose tablets. He took it with a shot of bottled spring water, shuddering at the chalky taste as he chewed, and managed to drag himself to his personal space.
They had rented out half of the stingy square building, the entire top floor and two of the second directly below. Working out a deal with the owner they knocked out walls, smashed through the roof of the bottom two, and made themselves a high class condo from the mess that remained.
The stairs to his rooms were agony, but he managed. Tim was moving around in his cage, having slept half the night away. He would be disappointed to learn that the sun would be up in three hours.
With care to both their eyes he drew the heavy drapes over the blinds before opening the door and letting the golfball sized marsupial loose in his room.
"You wake me up Tim," he warned as he opened the jar of turtle treats and gave him a small dose of freeze dried mealworms, "and you can forget those flowers we saw down at the supermarket yesterday. You'll just have to get your pollen from a bag like the rest of us."
Timcampy barked in what Allen hoped was agreement.
He sighed as he moved to the professional vanity and began cleaning off his tattoo concealer with a hypoallergenic makeup remover. Then looked at himself in the mirror, a little worn, a little strained, skin a little pink from the gentle rubbing but he didn't think a breakout would occur. Just in case, he grabbed his lotion and applied the barest amount to his face.
In his personal opinion he didn't look too bad. Sure his scar was absolutely hideous, with its ragged unnatural shape, flushed almost angry red instead of the more natural silver pink, and the inverted pentacle hidden beneath his bangs.
He supposed it could have been worse. He could have been holding up a tree or gingerbread when the accident occurred. Or a heart. Yes, a star was definitely more preferable, in comparison.
He tapped the lotion on the counter once in a decisive, absent way, and then placed it, too, in its proper place.
He removed the scleral shell from his eye and placed it back in its solution, then snapped the lip and returned the case to the shelf with all the others, it was the only singular color of all the lenses. His natural smoky gray.
Then removed the eyedrops and made use of that.
Yes, he could look worse, for the damage that incident caused. And only the one scar in plain view, he could count himself fortunate the world saw nothing but a charming, delicate boy, even if he could only look back at it with one silver eye.
Blinking rapidly, thoroughly wetting his scarred, white, useless eye with the medicated drops, he left the vanity, dark and impeccable, and ruthlessly clean.
With careful fingers he pressed the release for his advanced prosthetic and gently slid his arm free of the sensitive gel cushioned interior. Placing that in its case in the nightstand drawer he stripped his cloths, tossed them in the hamper, and slid naked between his cool, soft sheets.
It had been an interesting night, perhaps if one thought of it in a way an interesting start to the morning. He both felt and heard Tim thump down on the bed, turned on his back to stare at his ceiling as the small animal scurried about his covered legs.
The shadows of his mind were restless, he could feel Neah shift and stretch, practically beneath his skin. Closing his eyes he ordered himself to sleep, and dropped into it as obediently as he had since he was a child.
*Thee Doll House is a topless gentlemans club on S. OBT in Orlando Fl, its Sleek and Stylish, and while not formal certainly a class up from the sex clubs most people imagine. In this AlternateUniverse many things change, and the DollHouse is one of them. This representation is in no way an accurate depiction of the real Dollhouse, and in fact I have gone out of my way to restyle the building and establishment entirely, making it near fictional excepting the name and business.
Well everyone I certainly hope you enjoyed this first chapter. I'll confess it's taken me a bit longer than most stories, as the research was killer, and the characters difficult to maneuver in this world. Many of the original scripting was torn apart, spaced out, fixed up, or outright replaced. This is sad because there's some terrific dialogue and descriptions I've taken out because it didn't fit or would make the scenes too wordy which I've been trying to curb as wordiness is a bad habit of mine, returning readers should know this.
The summary of the story is a warning against heating Antimony Sulfide too hot by Vannoccio Biringuccio. Stibarsen is mostly made up of Antimony and Arsenic, making it very pretty, but also brittle and dangerous to handle.
I've spent the last six months scouring the internet for information on this fic, from finder the perfect explanation for Allen's condition to creating the greatest 2012 super villain apocalypse ever, and it's totally feasible, to just the basic studies on the alchemical and elemental references I'm using, and uncountable hours in the library and old science and chemistry texbooks I found at the goodwill and other thrift stores, looking for some interesting snippet of fact or comment from some expert that I could use as the chapter summaries.
Eventually I realized that not everybody could be like Biringuccio, throwing out epic quotes like a Hollywood action hero, only with far more random explosions and less half naked chicks (probably).
Science is epic fucking shit but the people who study it are usually so very not. If I wanted something good, as usual I was going to have to make it myself. That really is kind of the point of fanfiction though isn't it?
So most of those witty, wise, and whimsical tidbits at the beginning of each chapter are simply me being all cryptic and poetic and shit about fairly non intriguing facts on the elements that the chapters are named after.
Which brings us to my little game:
This fic is 14 chapters long, no prologue, no epilogue. Each chapter is named after the first 14 chemicals of the periodic table, each Noah is named after an element group but we'll get into that later, and begins with a "quote," created by me, which summarizes the chapter. Now, if each chapter is named after an element, and each quote summarizes the chapter, then it makes sense that each quote is also relevant to the element right? So here's your homework, state what each summary is saying about the element.
Each correct answer gets one point, totaling in 14 points in all. Whoever has the most points at the end of the fic gets a oneshot (Or fanart, I'm a fairly decent artist) of their choosing.
The first few are easy. It gets harder with every update. So get reading people, I've spent months researching this fucking fic and damn it you're all going to learn you some science!