Post by Wulfi on Jul 27, 2009 18:58:49 GMT -5
"You said you'd be with me forever, right, Kastel?"
"Hm?"
"You said," she started, tracing her thin fingers along his long arm as she sat in between his legs. They sheltered her like a castle. "You said that you'd always... be with me... right?"
The tall man, hunched and slender silhouette stark against the deep bluish gray light of dawn at sea, wrapped his arms around her slim shoulders. She couldn't have been more than ten years old.
There they sat in the bay window. The solid color in the background of the window made for their morning, a solemn, melancholy shade of true blue tinged with gray. He kissed the top of her vibrant red hair, the wild locks going down to just below her ribs. While she stood out against the misty morning sky, this young man seemed to nearly camouflage into it. He had this air about him, one of serenity, yet something else. Deviousness, perhaps? Cunning?
He held the girl as she stared forth, her cinnamon eyes holding nothing at all, not a trace of emotion.
"Your mother told you that too, did she not?" the enigma murmured to her, his lips lightly brushing the top of her stationary head, feathers against feathers.
"Mm," she agreed softly, her face blank. "She told me that-... She told me that someone would take care of me after she died. Someone special." A faintness of hope came about her features as she turned slightly at first, then all the way around to face this mysterious man. She sat on her knees and reached up with both or her smaller hands to hold his face. He didn't blink, not a flicker of anything other than what had previously been there came about his facade.
"You came... out of nowhere, Kastel," she told him as if it was a miracle. A light was in her eyes now. Was it, could it possibly be, hope? Could it be that one emotion that would give her a reason to push on, to live, to believe in this stranger who made her feel as safe as could be?
"I came because I was needed," he replied with a smoothness all his own, that same gentle smile on his lips, and put his hands delicately on her hips. "I came because I knew you needed me."
She slid her arms around his neck. He returned the sweet embrace. "I need you, Kastel."
"Always?"
"Always."
"Freeze, asshole!"
A tall man, possibly a mix of Asian and Greek descent, came out from behind the corner with his hands up by his head, surrendering. "It's alright, Amato," he called out. "It was a false alarm."
The younger man who had been waiting beside the black Chevrolet lowered his gun to his lap, still standing stiff and clenching his weapon. "Dammit!" he cursed, spitting off to his side. "That's the fifth one this week!"
Approaching him, the man with the long black hair pat Amato's shoulder twice and sighed, fishing around in his pocket for something. The shorter Italian at his side repeated the gesture, eyes closed and auburn brows furrowed in frustration.
"So what do you think?" Amato inquired to his partner as he pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his coat pocket, now searching for the lighter as he beat the laminated box against his thigh to jostle a nicotine stick from its place. He put the pack to his face and drew the butt of one of them out with his pursed lips.
The older male took a lighter out from the pocket of his dark blue jeans and held it up beside his smirking face. "Looking for this?"
"Hey!!" the obstinate Italian barked as he tried to snatch it away from him. The other man just grinned deviously and held it high above his own head, arm fully outstretched.
"You know, smoking's bad for you," he began, amused at how Amato crossed his arms and fumed at him, those hazel eyes aggravated and stern. "It's a catalyst for anger. The nicotine in it only enrages you more, bringing more stress and more problems. You should kick the habit." He waved the lighter in his pouting face to tease him. "And it's illegal here until you're twenty-one."
Amato snatched the red translucent lighter away from him and lit his cigarette, taking a puff and pulling it away, the nicotine stick in between his forefinger and middle finger as he flicked some ash off of it, half glaring at the man on his left. "Well there's no smoking age in Italy. You just gotta be sixteen to buy."
"How old are you again?" He smirked in amusement at the dirty look the shorter male gave him.
"Seventeen."
"Ah," he mused, jamming his thumbs into the outer corners of his jean pockets as he half-leaned on the car. His lazy eyes went to the ink black sky. It was clear and beautiful tonight, dotted with innumerable flecks of gold, white gold, and silver. "So how did you get your hands on those?"
"Hmph," he sneered, turning away from his long-haired partner as if not facing him could make his smoke break any better. "As if I would give away information like that."
"An associate? A fake ID?"
"A fist in your face?"
"Fair enough," he chuckled, closing his eyes as the light wind took the smoke in the direction opposite of him.
It was silent for a while. He assumed Amato was enjoying the little bit of daily peace he got from that cancerous treat.
"Il ratto viene ficcanaso catturati in trappola, Darvos."
The taller of the two blinked a few times, not really expecting him to speak, and turned his head to face him. "...What?"
"The nosy rat gets caught in the trap." A stern-faced Amato dropped the butt of his spent cigarette and twisted the bottom of his shoe upon it. "Stay out of my business."
Gavriil Darvos sat up and stared at him as pulled his cellphone out and walked off. He shook his head, sighed, and got in the driver's seat of the car. "This better not take long, kid. Diane isn't gonna be happy when I get home."
"Just what the hell do you think you're doing?!"
She didn't even flinch as Darvos stormed into the room, throwing his gun and holster onto the bed they shared. A young woman with short-cut white-silver hair sat straight, positioned in front of the computer screen, a headset on her head so she could have use of her nimble and quick fingers as they flew across the keyboard.
"Tell them to move the Yggdrasil squad to the front lines, they have the necessary power to break through their defense. Leave the back-up to H079421, he knows what he's doing," she ordered the person on the other end of the connection, completely oblivious to the angered man who'd just come home from a stressful and tiring day of work. Darvos made his way over to her and tried to pull the plug of the master switch, but the female was quicker. She delivered a swift elbow to the back of his head.
"Yes, that's right. Have them move clockwise to avoid a counterattack."
"Diane, you've got to stop this," he groaned as he rubbed the back of his aching head. This wasn't going to be a nice wake-up call in the morning.
"Alright, take care," she said without as much as a hint of concern in her voice. She ended the call and put her headphones aside, closing down the programs on her computer. Crossing her arms, she swung her folded legs to her left, successfully moving the rolling chair to face him.
"Di, it's 12:31."
"So?" came the bland counter.
"A.M."
"...Your point?"
"You should be sleeping!!" he raged, throwing his arms up for emphasis.
"I was working."
"Internet war games are not work!"
By this point she was weakly glaring at him. "I don't play them for the same reasons others do, you know."
"Yes, I do, but that doesn't mean they're work," he explained, moving to the bed to retrieve his weapon. He took it out and put the holster under the bed, proceeding to put the pistol under his pillow.
Diane sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose and shutting her vein-coated eyes. "Gav, I can't bear it. ISPA needs me. I'm one of their most valuable tacticians and mechanics."
"ISPA", the "International Special Protection Association," needed her, that was true, but they had other people that could fill in for her. Now was not the time to get riled up or thrust into a war situation. Darvos knew this all too well.
"Diane, sleep," he told her, having pulled down the covers already. He began to undress, not caring that her piercing eyes were on him.
After a moment, she sighed, shut down the system, and ventured off to the bathroom. Upon her return Darvos was already in his boxers, she in a silky lavender nightgown, the same color as her sharp eyes. He was under the covers, no source of light from their room apparently in use. The streetlights outside made for their vision.
She made her way over and crawled underneath the cotton covers. Her fiance put his hand on her stomach, rubbing it a bit before letting it still. He smiled at her, and though she was too tired to return the gesture, he knew she meant well.
Lavender eyes locked to one another.
"Go to sleep, Lieutenant Azaalria."
She let out a slow breath and put her hand atop his own, both resting on her slightly round stomach.
"Goodnight."
She didn't reply. She just lay there, staring at the ceiling.
"Goodnight?" he tried again. After another few seconds of silence he shifted a bit so that he could drape his arm around her torso, snuggling closer to her. Through his fatigue he appeared genuinely concerned.
"Honey, what's wrong?" he rasped gently, having found himself on the brink of collapsing into slumber since laying down. "Did something happen with the baby?"
"..."
"...Did it kick?"
"No," she answered softly yet with her characteristic apathy. Her normal scowl was still on her flawless face. "It's not the baby."
"O-oh God, are you gonna throw up again?" he dared to ask, moving away a tad before she tightened her grip on his forearm.
"No, don't be stupid. I already said it didn't involve the baby."
"Then...?"
"..." she closed her eyes, breathing in, then out. "I got a call."
Darvos paled as much as he could with his olive skin. "From the doctor? Are you sick?"
She turned her head to face him, staring at him blandly. "You know, it's not necessarily a bad thing."
"Well you sure aren't jumping at the chance to tell me," he countered, knocking his forehead against hers lightly. She gave him an unamused pout as he pulled back from her face.
"It was a call from ISPA."
This got him on high alert. His attention was completely on her, his eyes wide and attentive as he leaned up, supporting himself on his right arm. "ISPA? This better not be another false lead."
"I don't know if it is or isn't, all I know is that you're going out of the country."
He stared at her for a minute, not expecting a reply like that, and blinked a few times.
"...Where?"
"Copenhagen."
He blinked twice.
"Denmark?"
"Yeah. You're going to Denmark."
Darvos took this as his chance to flop down on his side of the bed, sighing, apparently fully awake. His heart was pounding excitedly. His face was blank, lips slightly parted. It was a thrill to know that he'd been given the permission to travel internationally, which must have meant the head officials at the Association had some faith in him if not pride, and he'd get to see what life was like outside of the States. The only time he'd been outside of the U.S. was when he was a baby. However, despite the pros, there were cons. He knew that this was work, so no sightseeing. He'd have to be focused at all times, ready to kill if need be.
"Denmark..." he breathed out in wonder.
Diane closed her eyes, laying on her back, and folded her hands atop her stomach. "Yep. Dunno how long, but you're going."
He sat completely up, his hands fidgeting nervously. "I-I need to learn the customs, the culture, the language, the geography, the layouts of office buildings and shops... How much time? When do they send me out?"
"Tomorrow morning."
He froze in his anxious rant, hands still. "...E-.. Eh?"
"Yep," she told him disinterestedly, turning to lay on her side so that she faced away from him. "Goodnight."
Darvos stared at her in disbelief but quickly brushed that off. She'd always been that way, no point in her changing in demeanor anytime soon. Since the pregnancy she hadn't been much worse than usual, but she was only so far along.
He laid down, pulled the jade green Egyptian cotton sheets up to his chest, and let a held breath out. He was going to Denmark in the morning. He was happy, yes, because he'd be hopefully closer to an actual lead and not a false rumor, but there was a major downside to this trip as well.
He'd be leaving his pregnant fiancee. For how long, he didn't know.
He'd have to be fast. There was no way he'd let an opportunity like this out of his grasp. He was going to take it and run. He was going to do his job, do it fast, and do it well.
He had to, for her sake.
It was around 4:43 when he heard his phone go off.
"Hm?"
"You said," she started, tracing her thin fingers along his long arm as she sat in between his legs. They sheltered her like a castle. "You said that you'd always... be with me... right?"
The tall man, hunched and slender silhouette stark against the deep bluish gray light of dawn at sea, wrapped his arms around her slim shoulders. She couldn't have been more than ten years old.
There they sat in the bay window. The solid color in the background of the window made for their morning, a solemn, melancholy shade of true blue tinged with gray. He kissed the top of her vibrant red hair, the wild locks going down to just below her ribs. While she stood out against the misty morning sky, this young man seemed to nearly camouflage into it. He had this air about him, one of serenity, yet something else. Deviousness, perhaps? Cunning?
He held the girl as she stared forth, her cinnamon eyes holding nothing at all, not a trace of emotion.
"Your mother told you that too, did she not?" the enigma murmured to her, his lips lightly brushing the top of her stationary head, feathers against feathers.
"Mm," she agreed softly, her face blank. "She told me that-... She told me that someone would take care of me after she died. Someone special." A faintness of hope came about her features as she turned slightly at first, then all the way around to face this mysterious man. She sat on her knees and reached up with both or her smaller hands to hold his face. He didn't blink, not a flicker of anything other than what had previously been there came about his facade.
"You came... out of nowhere, Kastel," she told him as if it was a miracle. A light was in her eyes now. Was it, could it possibly be, hope? Could it be that one emotion that would give her a reason to push on, to live, to believe in this stranger who made her feel as safe as could be?
"I came because I was needed," he replied with a smoothness all his own, that same gentle smile on his lips, and put his hands delicately on her hips. "I came because I knew you needed me."
She slid her arms around his neck. He returned the sweet embrace. "I need you, Kastel."
"Always?"
"Always."
PRISM
One
"Freeze, asshole!"
A tall man, possibly a mix of Asian and Greek descent, came out from behind the corner with his hands up by his head, surrendering. "It's alright, Amato," he called out. "It was a false alarm."
The younger man who had been waiting beside the black Chevrolet lowered his gun to his lap, still standing stiff and clenching his weapon. "Dammit!" he cursed, spitting off to his side. "That's the fifth one this week!"
Approaching him, the man with the long black hair pat Amato's shoulder twice and sighed, fishing around in his pocket for something. The shorter Italian at his side repeated the gesture, eyes closed and auburn brows furrowed in frustration.
"So what do you think?" Amato inquired to his partner as he pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his coat pocket, now searching for the lighter as he beat the laminated box against his thigh to jostle a nicotine stick from its place. He put the pack to his face and drew the butt of one of them out with his pursed lips.
The older male took a lighter out from the pocket of his dark blue jeans and held it up beside his smirking face. "Looking for this?"
"Hey!!" the obstinate Italian barked as he tried to snatch it away from him. The other man just grinned deviously and held it high above his own head, arm fully outstretched.
"You know, smoking's bad for you," he began, amused at how Amato crossed his arms and fumed at him, those hazel eyes aggravated and stern. "It's a catalyst for anger. The nicotine in it only enrages you more, bringing more stress and more problems. You should kick the habit." He waved the lighter in his pouting face to tease him. "And it's illegal here until you're twenty-one."
Amato snatched the red translucent lighter away from him and lit his cigarette, taking a puff and pulling it away, the nicotine stick in between his forefinger and middle finger as he flicked some ash off of it, half glaring at the man on his left. "Well there's no smoking age in Italy. You just gotta be sixteen to buy."
"How old are you again?" He smirked in amusement at the dirty look the shorter male gave him.
"Seventeen."
"Ah," he mused, jamming his thumbs into the outer corners of his jean pockets as he half-leaned on the car. His lazy eyes went to the ink black sky. It was clear and beautiful tonight, dotted with innumerable flecks of gold, white gold, and silver. "So how did you get your hands on those?"
"Hmph," he sneered, turning away from his long-haired partner as if not facing him could make his smoke break any better. "As if I would give away information like that."
"An associate? A fake ID?"
"A fist in your face?"
"Fair enough," he chuckled, closing his eyes as the light wind took the smoke in the direction opposite of him.
It was silent for a while. He assumed Amato was enjoying the little bit of daily peace he got from that cancerous treat.
"Il ratto viene ficcanaso catturati in trappola, Darvos."
The taller of the two blinked a few times, not really expecting him to speak, and turned his head to face him. "...What?"
"The nosy rat gets caught in the trap." A stern-faced Amato dropped the butt of his spent cigarette and twisted the bottom of his shoe upon it. "Stay out of my business."
Gavriil Darvos sat up and stared at him as pulled his cellphone out and walked off. He shook his head, sighed, and got in the driver's seat of the car. "This better not take long, kid. Diane isn't gonna be happy when I get home."
~~~~~*****~~~~~
"Just what the hell do you think you're doing?!"
She didn't even flinch as Darvos stormed into the room, throwing his gun and holster onto the bed they shared. A young woman with short-cut white-silver hair sat straight, positioned in front of the computer screen, a headset on her head so she could have use of her nimble and quick fingers as they flew across the keyboard.
"Tell them to move the Yggdrasil squad to the front lines, they have the necessary power to break through their defense. Leave the back-up to H079421, he knows what he's doing," she ordered the person on the other end of the connection, completely oblivious to the angered man who'd just come home from a stressful and tiring day of work. Darvos made his way over to her and tried to pull the plug of the master switch, but the female was quicker. She delivered a swift elbow to the back of his head.
"Yes, that's right. Have them move clockwise to avoid a counterattack."
"Diane, you've got to stop this," he groaned as he rubbed the back of his aching head. This wasn't going to be a nice wake-up call in the morning.
"Alright, take care," she said without as much as a hint of concern in her voice. She ended the call and put her headphones aside, closing down the programs on her computer. Crossing her arms, she swung her folded legs to her left, successfully moving the rolling chair to face him.
"Di, it's 12:31."
"So?" came the bland counter.
"A.M."
"...Your point?"
"You should be sleeping!!" he raged, throwing his arms up for emphasis.
"I was working."
"Internet war games are not work!"
By this point she was weakly glaring at him. "I don't play them for the same reasons others do, you know."
"Yes, I do, but that doesn't mean they're work," he explained, moving to the bed to retrieve his weapon. He took it out and put the holster under the bed, proceeding to put the pistol under his pillow.
Diane sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose and shutting her vein-coated eyes. "Gav, I can't bear it. ISPA needs me. I'm one of their most valuable tacticians and mechanics."
"ISPA", the "International Special Protection Association," needed her, that was true, but they had other people that could fill in for her. Now was not the time to get riled up or thrust into a war situation. Darvos knew this all too well.
"Diane, sleep," he told her, having pulled down the covers already. He began to undress, not caring that her piercing eyes were on him.
After a moment, she sighed, shut down the system, and ventured off to the bathroom. Upon her return Darvos was already in his boxers, she in a silky lavender nightgown, the same color as her sharp eyes. He was under the covers, no source of light from their room apparently in use. The streetlights outside made for their vision.
She made her way over and crawled underneath the cotton covers. Her fiance put his hand on her stomach, rubbing it a bit before letting it still. He smiled at her, and though she was too tired to return the gesture, he knew she meant well.
Lavender eyes locked to one another.
"Go to sleep, Lieutenant Azaalria."
She let out a slow breath and put her hand atop his own, both resting on her slightly round stomach.
"Goodnight."
She didn't reply. She just lay there, staring at the ceiling.
"Goodnight?" he tried again. After another few seconds of silence he shifted a bit so that he could drape his arm around her torso, snuggling closer to her. Through his fatigue he appeared genuinely concerned.
"Honey, what's wrong?" he rasped gently, having found himself on the brink of collapsing into slumber since laying down. "Did something happen with the baby?"
"..."
"...Did it kick?"
"No," she answered softly yet with her characteristic apathy. Her normal scowl was still on her flawless face. "It's not the baby."
"O-oh God, are you gonna throw up again?" he dared to ask, moving away a tad before she tightened her grip on his forearm.
"No, don't be stupid. I already said it didn't involve the baby."
"Then...?"
"..." she closed her eyes, breathing in, then out. "I got a call."
Darvos paled as much as he could with his olive skin. "From the doctor? Are you sick?"
She turned her head to face him, staring at him blandly. "You know, it's not necessarily a bad thing."
"Well you sure aren't jumping at the chance to tell me," he countered, knocking his forehead against hers lightly. She gave him an unamused pout as he pulled back from her face.
"It was a call from ISPA."
This got him on high alert. His attention was completely on her, his eyes wide and attentive as he leaned up, supporting himself on his right arm. "ISPA? This better not be another false lead."
"I don't know if it is or isn't, all I know is that you're going out of the country."
He stared at her for a minute, not expecting a reply like that, and blinked a few times.
"...Where?"
"Copenhagen."
He blinked twice.
"Denmark?"
"Yeah. You're going to Denmark."
Darvos took this as his chance to flop down on his side of the bed, sighing, apparently fully awake. His heart was pounding excitedly. His face was blank, lips slightly parted. It was a thrill to know that he'd been given the permission to travel internationally, which must have meant the head officials at the Association had some faith in him if not pride, and he'd get to see what life was like outside of the States. The only time he'd been outside of the U.S. was when he was a baby. However, despite the pros, there were cons. He knew that this was work, so no sightseeing. He'd have to be focused at all times, ready to kill if need be.
"Denmark..." he breathed out in wonder.
Diane closed her eyes, laying on her back, and folded her hands atop her stomach. "Yep. Dunno how long, but you're going."
He sat completely up, his hands fidgeting nervously. "I-I need to learn the customs, the culture, the language, the geography, the layouts of office buildings and shops... How much time? When do they send me out?"
"Tomorrow morning."
He froze in his anxious rant, hands still. "...E-.. Eh?"
"Yep," she told him disinterestedly, turning to lay on her side so that she faced away from him. "Goodnight."
Darvos stared at her in disbelief but quickly brushed that off. She'd always been that way, no point in her changing in demeanor anytime soon. Since the pregnancy she hadn't been much worse than usual, but she was only so far along.
He laid down, pulled the jade green Egyptian cotton sheets up to his chest, and let a held breath out. He was going to Denmark in the morning. He was happy, yes, because he'd be hopefully closer to an actual lead and not a false rumor, but there was a major downside to this trip as well.
He'd be leaving his pregnant fiancee. For how long, he didn't know.
He'd have to be fast. There was no way he'd let an opportunity like this out of his grasp. He was going to take it and run. He was going to do his job, do it fast, and do it well.
He had to, for her sake.
It was around 4:43 when he heard his phone go off.