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|More from Gingalover||Post-Apocalyptic, Steampunk||PG-13||Here||No update page|
|Ep.2: Killer Shards|
Ep.3: Sparking the Driving Force
The days went on for a while longer, Mejiro trying to keep an eye out as the days went by. He, Zuzu, and Baxter had been going about doing their own thing, but since seeing what the Blood Eye Kite members had done back there, he had been a bit worried over what the clan would do to him...well, aside from just killing him of course. Baxter and Zuzu both kept a good eye out for Mejiro, just in case any attempts by the B.E.K. would come around to get Mejiro at anytime. The poor kid was basically wanted by the group, and Mejiro knew it. What they didn't know was that they were being watched for the past few days, the glass-bending assassin watching him for his weaknesses.
Eventually, Mejiro went out on the town, walking Baxter down alongside the spirit river. A number of people continued going along their own daily schedule through the city of trees. So far, Mejiro seemed pretty calmed down, stopping by a crossing amongst the flooded areas of town. Sure, most of the lower subways were flooded already, but some areas got so bad that extra areas were built with metal scrap, strong enough to keep paths steady. At a crossing, Baxter took a moment to relax as Mejiro stood along the main corner, the spirit water river flowing comfortably just a foot away from his body. Baxter even took the moment to take a sip of the spirit water, cleansing his throat after the walking. Mejiro could only wonder himself as to where exactly he was going to get into trouble. Seemed, though, the spot he was in appeared to be the perfect place for that: no one around, only him and Baxter by themselves, in an area where he could easily get caught. Once more, Zuzu didn't appear to be around either, so there was no extra set of eyes for him.
While waiting alongside the canal, the killer eyes of the assassin peeked out from the corner, darkness keeping him hidden from Mejiro's sight. While his eyes locked onto his target, the glass around him started to shift, sharpen, and float. Suddenly, Baxter's ears pricked up, and he suddenly turned aggressive, looking towards the direction of the assassin. Mejiro looked in the direction but couldn't see anything or anyone among the path ahead. Despite that, Baxter pointed right ahead to the assassin like an English pointer would ... then it happened.
Mejiro had seconds to react, but suddenly, the assassin quickly bolted out, launching glass shards right at Mejiro. The albino kid looked to the water and did the only thing he could do: dive into the spirit water. Baxter didn't get hit, not being aimed at, and charged forward, snarling. The assassin was knocked down as Mejiro got out of the water, watching Baxter slam down on the man's chest, teeth tearing at him. Mejiro rushed over and had to physically pull Baxter away from him, as the man got up. Mejiro didn't know what to say, as Baxter growled towards the man, giving them both a sort of killer stare, the glass floating back around him.
"Hey there," he said.
"W-Who ... who ..."
"Fukuro. I bet you'd heard of me?" Fukuro asked. Mejiro and Baxter were uncertain about the assassin, as Fukuro brought the glass blades towards Mejiro, ready to slice his neck open at any time. Fukuro smiled at Mejiro's concern, Baxter snarling even more so at Fukuro.
"The clan put you to this." Mejiro stated at one point, finding the situation too predictable, especially since after he saw the Red Eye Kite. Fukuro chuckled a bit.
"A smart little kid, aren't ya? Be careful with that head of yours, or you'll have it rolling on the floor," Fukuro said. No, the joke didn't make it any better - it made it worse, as the shards aimed directly on his neck like a choke collar. Mejiro could see his own reflection within the glass, water dripping down on it as he held Baxter close, unsure of what else to do. This situation was too much like his encounter with Shimo, but the key difference was that he couldn't fake his way out of Fukuro's attempt. Getting strangled and getting your throat cut are two different factors entirely.
"You know, kid, I have to say, you're a rather unique target. First time I've seen an albino running around," Fukuro said after a bit of looking Mejiro over.
"Uh ... Thank you?" Mejiro replied, still scared. Fukuro thought a little more, as Baxter gave off a bark or two. Fukuro had his money given to him, had his target ended up as a rarity, and who was to stop him anyway? So, on a whim, he gave Mejiro a smirk, and oddly began to move the glass away from his neck, surprising him.
"Know what, you're a little on the rare side. Be a shame to take away a gem like yourself from the world," Fukuro said, moving the glass back to him. Mejiro knew he was unique; able to talk to spirits and be an albino at the same time, but it was still a shocker to him to have an assassin like Fukuro just give up on him like that.
"You ... You're letting me go? ..." Mejiro asked. Baxter bared his teeth but didn't exactly attack just yet. Fukuro smirked down at Mejiro after he was done, the glass pretty much disappearing.
"We live in a screwed up world, kid, some things are a little bit too sweet to just be sliced off and put on a silver plate," Fukuro explained, though the look of a killer in his eyes was still evident. Fukuro kneeled down to match eye levels with Mejiro, Baxter ready to attack at any second if the red head tried anything.
"You gotta name?"
"N-Name?..." Mejiro was a bit unsure at first. After all, this same man did try to kill him just minutes before, and he nearly got his head sliced off because of it. If he shared his name with such a person, it could mean the end for him. Then again, the Red Eye Kite Clan already got a good number on him since he saw them and lived, so what did he have left to lose?
"... I'm Mejiro."
"Mejiro, eh? Well kid, let me say, those red eyed bitches were a bit more hesitant when they signed me for your head," Fukuro chuckled, as he got upright. Mejiro did the same, Baxter still growling at him, as the albino looked to him. Fukuro turned away from him and began walking away, a glass knife twirling in his hand.
"Well Mejiro, expect some good luck after this."
"Huh? What for?"
"For me letting you go. To the point in my career that good luck will befall on any target I let free. That's why I don't let them live too often," Fukuro joked. Again, another sick joke, but it told Mejiro that he was talking to an expert killer. One would have to be pretty badass to have a reputation like that. However, Mejiro wasn't sure if he would really get good luck, or if Fukuro was just pulling at his strings. Regardless, the redhead started to walk away for about a minute before Mejiro turned back to Fukuro.
"S-So ... I can go now ...?" Mejiro asked.
"Well, that depends: You want your head on a steak now or later?" Fukuro asked. Mejiro didn't need to reply and just turned to go. Baxter, still growling at Fukuro, went with his master too. Fukuro figured that was coming and, chuckling a little bit, went on his way. The meeting was short and up to the point, but Fukuro was feeling pretty satisfied in the end.
Besides, he had his money, anyway.
Later on that night, Fukuro happily went right back to his little house, whistling a little tune to himself. So he didn't get who he was supposed to get, so what? He got his money, he was free to do what he wanted. However, he knew as well that the Red Eye won't take that kind of result, so Fukuro did the only reasonable option ... start packing up.
Yeah, he was going away.
He didn't have much on hand, so all he got was his money, some glass blades, and packed them up in his suitcase. Before he could go though ...
Fukuro turned around to the door and (surprise, surprise) one of the Red Eye buggers was standing there. Figured as much, one of them must've watched him while he was on the job. Still, Fukuro was chill about it and turned around, closing the money bag.
"So you red-eyed sons of bitches watched, eh?"
"You had one job, brat," the man said firmly.
"And I did half of it," Fukuro chuckled, getting the case off of the counter of the room. Fukuro had it planned out, he got his cash, he had no more reason to bother with these people, he was in the clear. The member of the R.E.C. didn't think so, apparently.
"Where are you going?"
"I don't know, maybe the next town, next country perhaps."
"You're not going anywhere!" the man warned. Obviously, this members wasn't informed about him when he showed up on his doorstep. So, Fukuro just smiled at the man in front of him, walking right up to him. However, the man quickly pulled out a switchblade on him, though that didn't even make Fukuro flinch. In fact, it was slightly funny to him, as his hand gently grazed the sharp end of the blade, as if to test how sharp it was. The man just stared as Fukuro deliberately cut his own hand with his blade, Fukuro looking down at the cut on his hand, smiling like it was no big deal.
"Good job, you got a sharpened blade. Enough to cut my hand like a needle through water," Fukuro congratulated, going as far as to lick his own blood off of his cut. The man was starting to feel a bit worried, seeing this psychopath lick off his own blood like some vampire freak. Fukuro could sense the fear growing in the man as he looked back at him, his cut hand resting on his throat.
"No reason to be afraid, intern. I'm good for the day. Be lucky though that no one assigned you to my killing record. Of course, I wouldn't mind any extra lives on my account," Fukuro said, moving his hand away, only to leave a bloody cut-like mark on the man's neck. The member quickly felt his own neck, finding the blood there, as Fukuro licked his cut again.
"W-what the hell is wrong with you?" the man managed to say after a bit, wanting an answer to that question. Fukuro just started to walk by the man, heading outside. The man wasn't sure if he should go after him, or leave him alone. However, Fukuro started to bend around a secret glass blade from the back of his shirt, it slipping out of the collar, and he suddenly made it bolt out at him. Before the man could do anything, the glass skewered his right leg, going directly through his lower leg, bone and all. The man screeched in pain, and he fell to the floor, as Fukuro just calmly walked away, licking the blood on his hand as if it was some sort of ice cream on a cone ...
He was right: they do live in a screwed up world.
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