Take This
[ 1472 Words ]
Will ~ Kazimir
Seraph ~ Arano
[ 1472 Words ]
Will ~ Kazimir
Seraph ~ Arano
The two trekked down the corridor, Arano’s icy blue eye cutting through the dimly lit hallway in a way that was oddly nostalgic. Mouko stayed mostly behind him, her hands firmly gripping the strap of her rifle. Kazimir had long since disappeared down the depths of the winding base, but Arano forced himself to focus on the sporadically blipping energy that continued to disappear and reappear in the way that only the Russian’s did.
The dull ache in his chest, arm and legs served to distract him only minorly, his hands poorly wiped against the now-discarded remains of his shirt. Painted in blood and still bleeding sluggishly from his chest, he nevertheless trekked onwards into the depths of Raifuku’s twisted caverns.
Lefts and rights blurred together as their pace picked up, the sporadic energy disappearing down a corridor only to pop up a short ways away. Finally, after countless turns they emerged into what appeared to be another larger chamber. Mostly hewn of bedrock and other stone; its wet, uneven footing was slick underneath Arano and Mouko’s dirtied shoes. A fact lost on the pair for the figure that awaited them.
Iron bar hefted onto his shoulder, Kazimir casually waved a hand back at the two.
The Russian didn't seem eager to fight -- though, truthfully, he never seemed eager to begin with. Still, he was cautious; the shaft of his weapon remained resting against his shoulder, ready and waiting. Kazimir gave a long, appraising look to the youth. The giant of a man dwarfed Arano, Mouko even more so, but somehow the threatening air he had displayed in the upper cavern had vanished.
If anything, it seemed as if he just no longer cared.
"Why are you different?" Kazimir finally asked, curiously. He touched at one of the wounds on his chest, patched up and bandaged sometime after their fight and his subsequent escape. "You are willing to fight, and fight well. It is not your first instinct, though. What makes you different?"
He stopped short, ready to confront the Russian only to be yet again consulted with puzzling questions and venomous memories. The question turned over in his head briefly, but it was one he had been asked before. One he knew the answer for all too well.
“What makes anyone different?” He retorted, his stance relaxing slightly. “Is it our inherent nature to fight or flee? Is it beyond control for us to do something other than what we’re good at?
“Choice, Kazimir, is what separates you and me. My turn: one does crazy things for money, but few do so to such a fault. Money can’t buy loyalty, no matter the amount. So tell me, is working for Raifuku truly about getting paid?”
"Money buys my services, nothing more or less," Kazimir replied. "My loyalty is to the contract, not to the contractor. If I do not agree with the offered contract, I will not accept it." His bulky shoulders turned up in a shrug and he shook his head. "Whether I agree with a contract or not... it is not about morals.
"It is about how my gut feels."
Nodding toward Arano, he remarked, "Also, I was not saying between me and you, Arano. Just... you. You are different. Not the same as everyone else." A faint smile curled at the corner of his lips. "It is obvious, even when you are trying to be somebody else." With another shrug, he conceded, "Although I did not recognize why it was different at the time."
Kazimir turned and began walking across the room, seemingly unafraid of any surprise attacks. He waved for Arano to follow, saying nothing as he headed toward a side corridor on the far side of the open room.
He sighed, resigning himself to the Russian’s ways as he trudged carefully behind him, the surprising ease with which the mercenary carried himself a little unsettling. For someone who had previously intended to fight to the death to suddenly walk with his back turned to Arano was either very brave, or very foolish.
Arano knew better than to assume it was the latter.
Mouko followed him as well, the smaller corridor impossible to look down past Kazimir’s bulky frame. Belatedly, Arano realized he was following him into what could be a trap, and shook his head lightly. Briefly, his mind brought him back to Lilith’s short-sightedness, and his lips compressed into a thin line.
Who was he to say who his allies and enemies were?
The Russian's boots echoed loudly down the corridor and he didn't say anything for several moments. The hallway was formed of the same featureless granite that lined most of the underwater complex. A sheen of moisture covered the floor and the walls, though there were no conspicuous puddles. Kazimir finally broke the silence, his deep voice startling after the gap. "Everyone else has already fled. There were standing orders to leave if the silver room was ever breached. Raifuku also refused any guards in his personal control center."
As they continued on, the Russian stated the obvious, "I think he may have expected it to turn out this way."
Finally, they stepped out of the cramped hallway and into a more open room. There was a portable generator humming along in one corner, hooked up to several electronics, including a small laptop. "This is as far as I go with you, Arano," Kazimir stated, not explaining the laptop or even acknowledging it. "There is little I can say to explain the actions of Raifuku. I have worked for him four years now, called in every few months for a new mission. What is under contract, I will not reveal even now. There is something which must be said, though."
Kazimir looked down at Arano and Mouko before shrugging his immense shoulders. "I have never known the man to be caught off-guard."
With another shrug, Kazimir turned, heading for another door on the opposite wall. He stopped, and turned back around. "Oh!" The Russian reached into a pocket and pulled out a cheap, prepaid cellphone. "There is one number stored in there. Keep it or write it down or discard it as you please. Call if you ever wish to discuss a contract. It seems work will be limited for a while." He laughed, a faint sadness in the tone. "Farewell, Arano." He waved casually over his shoulder before walking down the darkened corridor.
He looked down, gazing briefly at the phone the Russian had placed in his hand. “Never caught off-guard, huh?”
Pocketing the device, he stepped over and grabbed the laptop. Carefully removing the plug which kept it charging, he shuffled it beneath his arm and looked back to where Kazimir had taken off to. It would be so easy...too easy...to just give chase. The man wouldn’t have a chance in hell of getting away...
Perhaps that was a path Arano wouldn’t tread yet. For now, the distinct feeling of wrongness towards the situation continued to plague him. He wished he could salvage whatever machinery had been used for Buryoku Gaikou, or Gyouga Fukai Meiro, but that would be another pipe dream, he supposed.
Regarding the laptop carefully, he propped it up beneath his coat, gripping it as though it were an injury. This was not something the shinigami needed, or deserved, to see yet. Turning back to Mouko, he nodded once to her and she returned it. As they tread carefully back over slickened rocks and uneven grounds, his mind strayed while his body moved.
Thoughts, images, memories all wound into a spiral that threatened to drown him in his thoughts. Questions without answers, answers without questions plagued him with each step. Yet each question seemed less pertinent than the last.
Who was Raifuku? Why would it matter who he was, and not what he had done? Why did his actions matter, and not his reasons? Why did his reasons matter, when they didn’t know who he was?
A maddening cycle that didn’t seem to have an end. Questions that only seemed to have one person to answer them. A person that was now supposedly dead. Kazimir’s words only served to further send doubt into his mind, yet there it was in black and white - he had seen March’s fatal fumble with his own eyes.
Yet, of course, that doubt stayed. He doubted it would ever leave, and he had long since learned to trust in it. Still, there was an inevitability that needed to be confronted: Sayis Inuzuri.
To say the man had earned a place of respect in his mind was perhaps something of an understatement. Then again, perhaps a single encounter wasn’t enough to cement such faith in the words of a man. Still...
If nothing else, he owed the man an answer.