As he began to unwind the weapon from his arms, the weight being pulled away from his left arm, chain pulled away from his arm so that it could travel across his shoulders, he kept his head down, frowning at his inability to do anything right, it seemed. He kept the scythe driven firmly into the wall, hanging the weight upon it as he spools the last of the chain out of his right sleeve. With a last slow inhale, he turns his mutilated face up so that his gaze met hers, that single eye of his dim, troubled, as his glass eye rested in the socket, useless and cold. His hands move up, the left hand away from his shoulder once more, back to her cheek, his right to the back of her neck, still straddling her legs at the moment.

"I...I can't do it...I won't do it. You are...by far the most perfect person I have ever met, at least in relation to me. I'd sooner slit my own throat because I'm dead inside if I do it anyways. I can't hurt you...you're too much like me. Shunned, looked down on...hated, even. I need a friend...I want and need one. I have a job, yes, but...they don't care for me at all. I'm another fool on their paycheck, I think, and the worst one, at that. Too many times I've heard reprimands...'Can't you keep it cleaner for once?' or something like that. But you...I can't..."

He shakes his head, the longer hair on the right side of his head whipping just a bit before his gaze turns back to hers, the thumb of his left hand brushing her cheek, once dipping close to the corner of her lips. His other hand brushes over the back of her neck, then down her spine just a bit, exploring what he could...he was undeniably curious, denied the opportunity to touch on normal occasions. He was fully himself at the moment, not the manufactured Dauragon that everyone before had seen, the sadistic killer who so easily severed limbs and lives with one swing of his blade. He was a curious teenager once more, content at the moment though no smile showed on his lips. It took quite a lot to make him smile...the real him, at least. He speaks again, his voice a bit quieter, a bit more unsure.

"Do...you understand what I mean? Can you...picture what I'm talking about in your head? I know, I'm screwed up, a loon. Everyone says that and I'm starting to believe it...but I'd rather be crazy and fearsome than sane and...boring."

She trembled,lightly arching her back at his touch, knowing how the boy must have been starving for contact.
-Friends... Are the best thing in the world. That's what my mother used to say. I almost forgot how it feels like to be near someone...- she moved closer to him, breathing deeply the cold wind. -I understeand what you mean. I... Kill people too. I never trought of ignoring an assignment, or protesting. It would be like a free ticked for the fake drowning and... E...Electricity... And other... Things...- She heard of the punishments from the grapevines, but she wasn't eager of experiencing it. Probably, the boy wasn't too.
She pulled the sleeve of her hoodie up, showing her black and rickety hand and the kitchen knife strapped to it. -That's the weapon i use. It doesn't look deadly, but there is an acid dispenser in the handle. People never expects it. I make them become like me... Horrible... Then i kill them.- She sighed. -What are you gonna do if you won't kill me? They'll search for you...-

Continuing to slowly and softly explore her face with his left hand, his right coming down a bit as he just lets his arm rest upon her shoulder for the moment, he bit his lip once more. His teeth dig into the flesh as he listens to her speak, his eye watching her lips move. This was...different. Being close to someone who wasn't sickened by his appearance was a new prospect for him, one of the driving factors for the original Dauragon to rebel against the manufactured personality to make up for his complete lack of social skills. His mouth felt a bit dry, his hands quivering just a bit more than usual, hoping she wouldn't notice. His head cocks to the side just a bit as she raises her sleeve, showing him her hand and the knife there.

"Ahh...interesting weapon, that. You see what I use, but...I have a few more little surprises that usual give me an edge. As to...protesting...I never had a reason to. All my targets before were like everybody else. They were petty fools...fixated on that which is socially acceptable and pretty. So I killed 'em."

He licks his lips once, his tongue almost sticking to them, for it was almost as dry as they were, his eyes moving to his right sleeve. His fingers free one of the glass vials with powdered glass inside, holding it out between him as his left hand moves down from her cheek to the side of her neck. Just the feeling...warm flesh on warm flesh...it was pleasing to him. When she mentions being hunted, he pauses for just a moment, then shakes his head slowly. He inhales a slow breath, then closes his mouth, letting the breath slip from the slits in his cheeks rather than his nose, speaking quietly after thinking.

"Well, if they do hunt me...I'm not one you can hide easily. I'd do better to straight up fight with them...but...I can't do what they tell me to do...what reason have I to? Because they told me to? That's not good enough for me...not when...not when you're so much like me. As to...what to do...I don't know. Run, maybe. Are there more like you? I know there are a few more like me...I've seen them coming in a few times when I was called into the offices to get another reprimand."

-Like me... Do you mean... Other assassins?- She stood pensive for a while, rubbing her chin.
-I've seen other girls when i was kust... Kidnapped... But i was confused. Y' know, i had other things to think about. Mostly related to my burns. Then i was all concentrated in my training, and until today, i was almost always outside that place, except once in a while to take new assignments. I'm almost sure that i'm not the only assassin, but i never paid attention to the others. I'm pretty sure they're all normal and... Boring. People like... You and me... Are very rare.-
She puffed, lying back on the wall. -It shouldn't be a problem for you to hide. You jus have to go far away... But you'll need money for this. I would help you, but i was never paid for my job. All my possessions are the clothes i'm wearing now.-

Mind if I join in?

Name: Ichi Maeda
Age: 13
Weapon: Food Poisons, Syringes filled with poison, Commando Steel Wires, and a switchblade for emergency purposes.
Assignment: (Umm... I don't think there's a vacant girl at the moment. I'll just wait and see if there's one that will come up. BTW, would it be possible that one of the boys is my target?)
Personality:
Ichi tends to act very childish and outgoing most of the time. He especially likes to act this way when interacting with his target so that they may let their guard down. He never truly trusts anyone other than his fellow male assassins.
Ichi also has a penchant in befriending people who are older than him. He often calls his older friends "nii-san" or "nee-san". Ichi had inherited much of his father's intellect, the reason why he is accelerated by two years in academics.
Ichi's favorite killing tactic is poisoning his target's food. He never really likes killing unless the target has done something to hurt him or people close to him.
Bio:
Ichi comes from a wealthy family from Japan. His father is a well-known and righteous politician in Japan. His father constantly contradicted the ideals of corrupt and malicious politicians in the service. Because of this, Ichi's family lived in constant fear.
When Ichi's father won the recent election for governor, their fears became reality. While Ichi was away on a school trip, his family was slaughtered by an unknown assailant. Ichi was devastated by the incident and he swore to avenge his family.
Ichi was offered by one of his father's close friends to join an assassin organization that was somehow involved on the murder. He unerringly accepted the offer and trained in the art of killing.
Appeareance:



Other: Ichi hates pink-haired people.

Nodding his head just a bit at her question, he let his fingertips trail over her neck as his left hand rested against her flesh, his right letting the vial of powdered glass drop to the floor beside the two. They were an odd pair, he knew, even stranger in the fact that he had been contracted to kill her. The manufactured portion of him, however, was much weaker than the true Dauragon when it came to what he did and didn't do, the awkward teen in him wanting to have a friend far more than the sadistic part of him wanted to hear job well done...for he never heard that. There was always a gripe with him, always something that they said could go better with his missions, always something...it had created a chaotic maelstrom of violent thoughts in his mind.

He let himself toss thoughts around in his brain in relative silence for a moment after listening to her, eyes closing as his right hand comes up to tap at his temple. The rhythmic pounding, when combined with the steady thrum of his pulse in his ears, gave him a relative peace, a bit of clarity. His left hand never wandered far from her flesh, going no farther from her cheek than the hollow of her neck and shoulder. His flesh tingled with the touch, starving for the feeling he had been denied...while true that he had felt the flesh of many murdered females, it was not the same as this. After a short time, his eyes open again, letting his head cock to the side, speaking in a quiet tone.

"Well, boring though they may be, they could help you, right? I may not be willing to kill you because I li...well, because you're like me, but...when they find out that I'm not coming back, they won't just come for me, likely. They'll come for you, too. And hiding me, yea, it will be a bit of a problem to hide me...can't exactly forget the kid with the fucked face and the weird haircut. I stick out like a black man against a white wall. As to money...I don't get jack...I got the occasional bonus now and then that got me new clothes, but other than that, I never got anything. So...what do we do now? Do we...stay holed up in here like this? Or do you and me see if we can actually find some help in this?"

(Is it too late to sign up one of my male characters for this?)

Sure you can, by the way I need someone to be assigned to my girl, the one who was quite posting.

I'll take on your girl AheartlessNobody. Although, may I ask what has occured along her storyline? Last time I read, she was knocked unconscious by one of the male assassins who was trying to court her.

((well he had kidnapped her, but lets just she that he never came and she is still asleep on the park bench))

"What's wrong? Are you okay nee-san?" asked Ichi to the young woman having cake in front of him.

The young woman was thrashing violently, her mouth slightly covered with icing.

"Nee-san! Please stop that! You're scaring me!" cried Ichi, tears welling up on his eyes.

The woman fell to the floor and continued her violent mannerism. She knocked over the table in front of her in the process. Her mouth started to foam and eventually, her body and breathing stopped altogether.

"Nee-san! No...!" cried Ichi, bursting out of the coffee shop in a scared manner.

People started buzzing around the dead woman, and pretty soon the police and a coroner arrived at the scene.

Ichi slipped in the back of the coffee shop, changing his clothes on a nearby bush.

"Poor Lenah. She was a real nice girl. It's too bad I had to kill her..." sighed Ichi.

He disposed of his disguise in a nearby dumpster and went as far away from the crime scene as possible. The thought of his kill still lingered around his mind. It was a hard thing to cope with and he knew all too well that he needed to unwind somehow. He spotted a park nearby with a children's swing.

"I guess that'll do..." told Ichi.

He made his way towards the park and immediately boarding the swing.

-Help...- Spyridon shook her head, and the few red hair on the decent side of her face moved in the air. -I don't think my fellow assassins could be of use, really. I don't know if they were paid or no, or if they could really help us out... But i have no way to contact them out. This looks really like an helpless situation...-
She took in a deep breathe, placing her working hand on Dauragon's chest. -I don't know what you could do. We both live to kill, but missing an assignment is the worst shame for an assassin. Maybe you should just kill me. I have no life anyway. Nothing to live for. But now that i know that there's someone like me, i would be ok with dying...- She muttered with a resigned voice, holding her head down so that he couldn't see her face.

Closing his eyes, letting a soft sigh pass his lips, the young man slowly reaches up to scratch around the slit in his right cheek. His tongue drifts out and over his lips, then out of the slits in his cheeks to lick there, as well, a sickening sight for one unused to it. He lets his eyes open once more at the feeling of her hand upon his chest, the blankly staring glass eye in his socket and the normal eye on the other side looking down upon it. The hand that had moved to scratch his cheek then moves tentatively down, his teeth worrying one corner of his lip for a moment...despite having the balls to slaughter nearly anyone in his way, he was still a kid at heart when it came to girls.

His fingers, still quite soft despite his profession, slowly brush over the back of her hand, moving to slip between her palm and his chest after a moment. He curls his own hand around hers, leaning forward ever so slowly, his heart thumping a frantic pace in his chest. As he takes her hand, her head lowered already, he licks his lips, his warm breath the first to touch her flesh, though his silken lips, soft despite the scarring of his cheeks, were not far behind. He stays silent for a few moments, taking in just what he was doing as he brushes his lips against the rim of her ear, inhaling a slow breath and steadying his voice before he even speaks, for it would have been wavery and odd. As his eyes close again, his hand giving hers a gentle squeeze, he begins to speak, barely a whisper in her ear.

"But...but what if I don't want you to die? I've never cared how anyone thought of me when I was doing my job, but...to hell with my job right now. I mean...you're the only person I've ever met who can look at me without getting sick or making a crack about how I look. This is all new to me...this...feeling, but...I know I like it. Your hand in mine, this warmth from the closeness...I like it all. Even the fact that my heart is beating a mile a minute is interesting. I like it because...it's different. I'm so used to killing that...I've never...had anyone close to me like this. I want to keep it that way. I guess...what I'm trying to say...is that I want you."

He inhales a slow breath once more, his lips moving from her ear to her cheek, though never parting far from her flesh, pressing against her cheek after a moment. The rings holding his cheeks together likely felt cold to her flesh, but his flesh was surprisingly hot. His hand kept hers held softly, his left hand moving slowly to gently hook at the base of her neck, brushing his fingers over the back of her neck and her upper back. He wasn't sure of himself, but he hoped he was doing the right thing...it felt right to him. He liked the pleasant tingle that the touch of flesh on flesh left on his lips, his galloping heart slowing just slightly. Now all he could do was wait and see what she said.

She breathed very deeply, slowly getting up from her position, grabbing the handle of Dauragon's kusarigama as she did so, unlocking it from the wall with empty eyes.
-What if i.... Attack you? You'd have to kill me. Because... This is what we do. Because we're assassins. It's a conditionated response. You would kill me. I know you would-
Now she was breathing very heavily, starting to show the worst side of her mind for the first time, the warped, evil Spyridon that took over the original shy, red-haired russian child she was before the accident that took her face and a big part of her mind.
Still empty-eyed, she let the kusarigama fall on the ground and started to undo the bandages that kept the kitchen knife strapped to her burned arm and took the knife in the good hand, aiming it at Dauragon's throat. -Kill or be killed. You decide.- Now her eyes seemed different from before, they had the same brutal expression from when she poured the acid on the faces of her assignments and watched they scream in pain. -I'll give you the time to take your weapon. After this, shall attack you.-

"But...thought you...like me...but why...I just...bitch! Utter f**king bitch!"

His thoughts were disjointed, swirling in his mind with all the primal fury of a tropical storm brewing towards the hurricane of the century. His face twitched, a tic he'd never had before, developing under the strain on his already tightly wound mind, head occasionally rocking. The words left him in a pattern that made no sense until the last few, his face reddening as his blood pressure mounts to dangerous levels. The anger caused his pulse to pound in his ears, his entire body thrumming with the powerful thunder in his chest. His head shakes, the boy's eyes closing tightly to hold that glass eye in his head, breathing in through his nose and out through the slits in his cheek. Even when the knife threatens his throat, he moves not for a moment, speaking with his head down, the hair on the right side of his face hanging limp, voice like nothing from before...both hurt and angry...yet it was not merely the normal anger. What simmered beneath the surface of that wavering voice was complete and utter hatred, ready to boil through into murderous rage.

"I...thought I could trust you. I thought you were different, like me. I was wrong. Always wrong. So f**king stupid, Dauragon, can't you do anything right? Not different...same sh*t, different wrapper. Not different, screwed up again...not different. Always screwing up, never doing right."

Even as he speaks, a single drop of liquid falls from his good eye to the girl's lap, saliva boiling from his mouth as he seethes through his teeth. When his head tilts up, the rage in that single eye was nigh unfathomable, seemingly a portal straight into the hell that Dauragon's mind had become. His right hand lances out, his body pushing itself up and away from the girl with one deft movement after grabbing his kusarigama. The weight rests in his left hand, scythe in his right, turning his head to the side to slam it into the wall. With a sickening crack that would have hurt anyone not numbed with a rage so deeply ingrained that it shut off his senses for the most part, his forehead splits, blood spurting from the new hole, left on the wall and pouring down his face. His vision clouds like static for just a moment before clearing his body rocking on his feet, his fists clenching. He traces the tip of the blade through the blood, licking it off and then twitching again, speech exploding from him once more as he readies himself for a fight.

"You're no better than the rest of those whores! Sure, you're pretty, but you're all the same. Hurt the freak kid, make him hate...it's fun to watch him rage. Wind him up and let him go, just like a toy. It's all a f**king game do you, isn't it? Yea, it is. It is to everyone and everyone always dies. I'll make it on my own, just like always...you hear me? ALONE!"

She didn't replyed, standing still with her back against the wall, the same lifeless expression in her eyes while the troughts stormed in her brain.
i care about you. And i won't let you live an even worse life because of me. You can call me a slut, a traitor, but i won't be the cause of your death. When she spoke again, her voice was very weak.
-I'm sorry... I wish there was another way...- She looked down, with the knife still aimed at him. -I w-wish there was another way... I don't wanna fight you...- she shook her head and looked at him, her eyes were filled with tears. The grip on the knife was so hard that her palm was bleeding. -...but if you don't kill me, your life will become way worse than now... If they don't just kill you... And i don't want this to happen. I just... don't want.- Starting to shake, she moved a step towards him.

Even as she spoke, the boy let the chain unfurl just a bit, his scythe hanging down near his shin as his head tilted to the side, tongue snaking over his lips to gather some of the blood leaking from his forehead. The metallic sound of the chain pulling taut on itself sounds through the air, the young man swinging it around his right hand as he holds the rest of it, weight and coils of more chain, in his left. The sound of the blade cutting the air also reaches his ears, likely hers, as well, his eyes narrowed, both bathed in blood. The white of his glass eye had since turned bloody red, his other eye narrowed dangerously, still frothing at the mouth like a rabid dog as he breathed through his cheeks. Clouds of saliva explode from the slits in his cheeks, eyes closing fully and then opening once more as he speaks, though likely not something one would have expected.

"I could've loved you...never thought I would've said that...I could have. But no...no one ever wants that. No, that's always too far out of the question...now, if I must."

He shrugs off the last bit as she steps forward, seething between his teeth as he flings the scythe up, not out, hoping that it hit as he thought it would. He was just as good as he thought, the blade of the scythe sinking into the ceiling even as he takes off at a run. His legs bunch just as the chain begins to tighten again, the young man giving a powerful thrust with his legs just before it pulls tight fully in his hands, holding the chain as he goes to swing towards her. His right leg extends, foot out towards her face in what was a quite beautiful kick...had it not been for the fact that he'd sorely misjudged the integrity of the apartment building's ceiling. With a loud ker-chunk, the ceiling gives way around his buried scythe.

He barely registers the chain going slack again before his body drops backwards, his head falling faster than his feet, his eyes slightly wide. He couldn't screw up...he'd done that so many times that it was almost second nature, his mind reeling for just a few milliseconds before impact. When his head hits the floor, his mind blanks out, his glass eye popping from his skull. His left eye goes fuzzy, shivering like static on a television set, his body rolling over and sliding almost to her feet. His fingers loosen, chain spooling from his hand as his weight slips away and rolls, his eyes closing fully for a moment. He was too dazed to do much, the turn of events unexpected, a knot already forming from the contact of head and wood.

Depspise all her best intentions to get killed, Spyridon's first reaction when Dauragon attacked was jumping away from the range of his scyte.
...Conditioned response. I killed people for too much time. My body doesn't want to die easily. Damn.
she just freezed when she realized that he wasn't going to hit her with the weapon. She wasn't quick enough to dodge the new attack, since she just moved, and waited for the blow. That didn't arrived. When the boy fell on the ground she had to keep from laughing hysterically, knowing that she already hurt him enough. She saw it in his eyes, all the pain her words could cause. Walking slowly, she reached him and kneeled down by his side.
- I know that you hate me for this, but... well... i know. It won't be easy, but it will be always easier to kill me now rather than staying both alive and living like rats, always running and hiding...- She sighed, her hand reaching the boy's forehead and resting there, letting the knife fall on the ground with a metallic sound, hoping he could hear her words. -If there was only a way to make you feel better....-

He had not paid any attention as she stepped back, for he would swing far enough that his long legs would still allow him to dropkick her in the face. Instead of reaching her, however, he had overestimated how good the ceiling would hold up to supporting his weight. It didn't support him at all, leaving him to very nearly crack his skull on the floor, his blood-soaked face showing his surprise. The scythe and the chunk of ceiling it had been embedded in lands somewhere above his head, bouncing to a stop with the chain very lightly resting in his hand, the weight somewhere around him, as well, but he didn't know where. He barely knew where he was, much less what was going on, his brain slowly rebooting like a piece of shit computer.

His eye rolled towards the wall, thumping to a stop against the molding at the bottom, gathering dust from the dampness of his eyesocket. The single pupil had come to rest, oddly enough, staring back at its master and the girl who knelt beside him, his remaining eye hazy. His gaze flicked from the ceiling to his bloody hand as he lifts it, then from his hand to the girl's face as she kneels beside him, his lips parting to emit a huff as he tries to breathe. The blow hadn't just hit his head, but when his back hit, his breath had all exploded from him. He sucks in another breath, her words drifting to his ears, his brain struggling to process it. To put it in an analogy that would have made even the hardened Dauragon giggle, his brain was akin to a tiny mouse in a giant wheel...running its damndest, yet getting abso-fucking-lutely nowhere. He did try to speak, however, his words coming out in a nonsensical order, spittle and a bit of blood bubbling from his lips from the wound he'd inflicted on his forehead leaking down his face. Even as he struggles to speak, his hand moves shakily up, the chain slipping to the floor as his palm comes to rest on the back of her hand upon his forehead.

"Rather...live...w'friend...run...than be....free...alone..."

Nvr mind