AnK - Black Moon Rising
folder
+. to F › Ai no Kusabi
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
38
Views:
13,526
Reviews:
142
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
1
Category:
+. to F › Ai no Kusabi
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
38
Views:
13,526
Reviews:
142
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
1
Disclaimer:
Disclaimer: Stating the obvious, I do not own Ai No Kusabi nor do profit from this little endeavour other than the sheer joy of clacking the keys and doffing my cap in reverence to Yoshihara Rieko for creating such complex and intriguing characters.
Chapter 8 - The Runaround
Black Moon Rising
By: ElegantPaws with all due deference to Yoshihara Rieko
Edited by: Ainzfern
Key Pairing: Raoul/Katze
Rating: Mature – NC -17ish
Parts: WIP – 8 of 25
Reviews are fuel.
xxx
Chapter 8 of 25 – The Runaround (Post OVA)
~~~BMR~~~
The alley was still damp. It always rained in the afternoon. You could set your chronometers by it.
Katze’s lips quirked at the iron. Even here within the slums, nature attempted to cleanse, however half-heartedly.
He inhaled deeply of cloves and synthesized bergamot. It barely masked the sweet, sickly odor of decaying flesh. A dozen or so of his chosen swarmed in search of the remains. A message sent and delivered in his own inimitable way to the parties in question and their kin who dared to challenge the Black Market dealer’s rule.
It was time for the cleanup before the lesser vermin, of the four legged variety, retrieved their bounty if they hadn’t already.
Exotically tilted eyes narrowed; movement in his peripheral vision. Something or someone was behind that twitching blind. Katze’s gait slowed as he relit his smoke with a casual flourish of wrist.
Donovan, his personal guard, never more than two steps ahead stilled as his boss’ long elegant fingers discreetly pointed in the direction of the fluttering blind; a signal to retrieve the spectator for possible questioning.
The implosion of the door’s frame was barely acknowledged by the Black Market dealer but for the slowing of his gait upon approach and the speculative gleam, quickly masked, as his eyes fell upon Donovan’s broad back and the screeching quarry, a diaphanously clad male attempting to bite the hand of iron holding him in place.
Another escaped Pet, not long on the run by the looks of him. A little torn, and definitely used, somewhat emaciated but with a little work, food and a medical check, quite serviceable, once his tag was implanted.
“Tag him. See that he is fed and cleaned.”
Amber eyes studied his most trusted, if not ally, relative partner in crime. Donovan nodded and slung the screaming, crying male over his shoulder and moved swiftly back toward the fleet of parked vehicles.
Donovan had spent an inordinate amount of time in the cell with Guy that morning. He had said not a word about it either.
Flicking the butt on the cracked walkway, Katze watched the bodyguard’s progress meditatively before returning his attention to the other men in the alley way, still searching for the malodorous remains that perfumed the air.
He had to go, or he would be late.
The echo of quick, nervous footsteps from behind brought Katze from his reverie. It was Stee.
His pale face looked agitated as he handed the dealer the external com device.
“His Excellency wishes to speak with you, Sir.”
Katze nodded and took the com. “Stay here. I’ll drive myself.”
Was it relief he saw in his chauffeur’s face? Katze smothered the knowing smile. He didn’t much like leaving his own lair to head to the towers of power either, but it was the price of his relative and continued autonomy.
~~~BMR~~~
Raoul’ study was didactic series of contrasts to the few who had access to his private haven. The far corner boasted a low couch that clung to the walls opposite floor to ceiling windows overlooking the great city below.
An odd choice of placement to those predisposed to aesthetics alone, but that was neither here nor there to the Chief Medical Officer and geneticist of note within the Commonwealth.
The expansive view afforded his contemplative mind respite on those sleepless nights, plentiful of late, when nothing else would appease but the mesmerizing sight of Amoi’s star speckled skies back lit by the ambient light of twin moons.
An ancient antique called a coffee table from a world thousands of years forgotten had seen many costly repairs, but still resided there despite the veiled censure of his furniture Deek, who loathed the item in question; its nicks and warp offending the supercilious servant’s perfectionist sensibilities.
Imported, aromatic oils were applied ritualistically by the Master himself. The pleasingly subtle synthesized scents of cinnamon, bergamot, and sandalwood permeated the room and sometimes even his ungloved hands as he worked diligently, such as now.
It was calming to the Elite’s exceptionally acute sense of smell.
A quiet cough from the doorway heralded the Furniture’s presence at the door, dark brown eyes akin to basilisk as he observed his Master, white silken shirt partially undone and sleeves rolled, hands naked in plain view and a cloth, an actual cloth marred with dark oils held firmly within a large palm as the Master continued to rub the offensive item.
“What is it Deek?”
“Forgive the intrusion, Master,” the dignified servant bowed deeply, “I merely wish to inquire as to when you wish your evening meal served?”
Raoul blinked. Had he been in here that long? He looked to the mauve sky without the windows. It was evening.
“Shortly,” The Elite said dismissively then thought better of it. “No, I have notes to go through. Set my bath first and then see about having the meal brought here once I am ready.”
Deek inclined his head a fraction more before giving the loathsome elongated wooden surface one final hateful glance.
“As you wish, Master.”
~~~BMR~~~
Four hours.
Possibly the longest debrief in the history of their sometimes tenuous alliance. The query about his physical state and the vision he presented was almost enough to send the ex-Furniture over the edge toward the end.
Iason, always coolly circumspect, had been on form; his agile mind flitting from topic to topic impatiently, while pale eyes scanned the dealer, assessing the veracity of his verbal responses. This usually happened after communion with Jupiter.
Fortunately, Riki’s timely intervention spared further personal inquiry as the conversation shifted focus back to the recent attempted incursions into their ‘commercial’ venture in Midas.
Katze’s shoulders slumped in the relatively safe confines of his vehicle, his hand automatically reaching for a smoke. Energy reserves rapidly dwindling, he set the controls to autopilot and scanned the com for news of the delivery.
He needed one thing to go right today.
The red-head exhaled with relief as his eyes rapidly scanned the screen. A relief short lived as the open panel he reached into for his cigarettes provided an unanticipated offering, a clear box with a single pristine item, glaringly white against the dark paneling.
“Fuck.”
The urge to smack himself senseless against the hard metallic dashboard and have done with his pathetic existence was only overridden by one fact. He didn’t need Raoul Am on his ass anymore than he already was. How had he forgotten that Stee was to make this delivery?
He would have to do it himself. No choice and what was more, his own shipment had gone AWOL in the mix. Someone had appropriated it. Two guesses as to whom, Katze thought irritably, with the flimsy excuse of some newly enforceable security protocol.
The pain in his clenched jaws served its purpose, only barely alleviating the anger he felt in the pit of his stomach. A quickly tapped message to Donovan; a perfunctory response in the affirmative confirmed what he already knew.
Raoul had found another way to fuck with him.
Katze gazed beyond the tinted screen at the twin moons and tried to temper his seething rage with reason. It could be worse. He could have had it destroyed on principle. Instead the irritating bastard had chosen to hold it hostage.
“Over a fucking glove, Raoul?!” Katze slammed his fists on the dash in frustration and groaned as his mind searched for alternatives but found none. His damn fingers were throbbing again. What the fuck did it matter anyway?
Katze cut the engine and gathered the box, pocketing it and looked up towards the glowing towers with trepidation. There was the slim chance that Raoul might not be home and the hand off could take place with his Furniture.
“Might as well get it over with,” he murmured to himself approaching the entrance, his usual diffident expression firmly in place as he lowered his gaze a fraction upon approach and steeled himself for whatever might await. They might have him in servitude, but he would deny them his soul.
~~~BMR~~~
Eying the metallic surface of the nondescript item that sat atop his desk, Raoul’s brows furrowed. By all rights, he could open it. He had the authority after all, but he had other plans.
He sipped the chilled wine and lazily watched Deek lay out the evening meal, as ordered, atop the coffee table; an extra setting and utensils laid discreetly to one side.
“Will there be anything else, Master Am?”
The bath had been a boon after a tiring day. He had not felt the need to dress. A simple silken robe sufficed for modesty’s sake. He rather liked the color, if truth be told, it so closely matching his eyes.
“No, you may attend to your own needs, Deek. I will take it from here.”
Brown eyes held curiosity but masked it, turning instead towards the door.
“Oh and Deek,” Raoul’s level gaze pinned the servant in place, “just to be clear, I will require nothing further of you tonight. Take this rare opportunity to enjoy the comforts of your quarters until such time as I have need of you.”
The elder servant bowed deeply and retreated on silent feet.
~~~BMR~~~
Quietly, the elevator doors opened, revealing a well appointed hall with two doors at opposing ends of the floor. Katze pursed his lips. If he chose the servant’s entrance, that could be taken as a slight, but equally, it would guarantee no Raoul.
Amber eyes drifted to the more stately entrance.
The Furniture would be the one to greet him regardless of which approach he took. The formal entrance however did have a wild card based on interior layout alone. Beyond the great doors was the open space, reserved for the entertainment of guests, furthering the likelihood of an encounter with, if not Raoul, then other Elites in attendance.
Katze smirked. Raoul would not appreciate that in the least, considering the clear packaging. Possibly embarrassing questions would be asked; conjectures had.
Choice made, Katze turned toward the servant’s entrance, glad of the unexpected reprieve.
“Have you an appointment with Deek? I wasn’t aware you knew each other socially, Katze.”
Turning swiftly to face the disembodied voice, Katze came face to chest with the softest of silken material that made his fingers itch to touch. He blinked, completely caught off guard by Raoul’s proximity, his scent.
“I did not wish to disturb your evening, Master Am,” the Black Market dealer murmured, keeping his gaze averted as he pointedly handed the box to the Elite, who chose to ignore the gesture.
“Likely story.”
Mesmerized, Katze watched as the hem of the green silk robe drifted through the open doors and the lingering scent of warmed sandalwood wafted to his nostrils.
Katze gritted his teeth in anger. The pro-offered box still lay in his open palm untouched.
“Come if you are coming, don’t be tiresome. I’m hungry.”
**********
Author’s Note:
Chapter nine is going to be quiet, sumptuous dinner....stay tuned. Hope you enjoyed this chapter. This is a hell of a fun ride with two of my favourite characters. Let me know what you think.By the way, am so loving this process that I am spending the time to renumber the chapters tonight. You know you love something when you're doing that lol! It means I am now officially transplanted and am living in Amoi for the next year. Yes, that is how long this story is going to take.
Namaste
EP
By: ElegantPaws with all due deference to Yoshihara Rieko
Edited by: Ainzfern
Key Pairing: Raoul/Katze
Rating: Mature – NC -17ish
Parts: WIP – 8 of 25
Reviews are fuel.
xxx
Chapter 8 of 25 – The Runaround (Post OVA)
The alley was still damp. It always rained in the afternoon. You could set your chronometers by it.
Katze’s lips quirked at the iron. Even here within the slums, nature attempted to cleanse, however half-heartedly.
He inhaled deeply of cloves and synthesized bergamot. It barely masked the sweet, sickly odor of decaying flesh. A dozen or so of his chosen swarmed in search of the remains. A message sent and delivered in his own inimitable way to the parties in question and their kin who dared to challenge the Black Market dealer’s rule.
It was time for the cleanup before the lesser vermin, of the four legged variety, retrieved their bounty if they hadn’t already.
Exotically tilted eyes narrowed; movement in his peripheral vision. Something or someone was behind that twitching blind. Katze’s gait slowed as he relit his smoke with a casual flourish of wrist.
Donovan, his personal guard, never more than two steps ahead stilled as his boss’ long elegant fingers discreetly pointed in the direction of the fluttering blind; a signal to retrieve the spectator for possible questioning.
The implosion of the door’s frame was barely acknowledged by the Black Market dealer but for the slowing of his gait upon approach and the speculative gleam, quickly masked, as his eyes fell upon Donovan’s broad back and the screeching quarry, a diaphanously clad male attempting to bite the hand of iron holding him in place.
Another escaped Pet, not long on the run by the looks of him. A little torn, and definitely used, somewhat emaciated but with a little work, food and a medical check, quite serviceable, once his tag was implanted.
“Tag him. See that he is fed and cleaned.”
Amber eyes studied his most trusted, if not ally, relative partner in crime. Donovan nodded and slung the screaming, crying male over his shoulder and moved swiftly back toward the fleet of parked vehicles.
Donovan had spent an inordinate amount of time in the cell with Guy that morning. He had said not a word about it either.
Flicking the butt on the cracked walkway, Katze watched the bodyguard’s progress meditatively before returning his attention to the other men in the alley way, still searching for the malodorous remains that perfumed the air.
He had to go, or he would be late.
The echo of quick, nervous footsteps from behind brought Katze from his reverie. It was Stee.
His pale face looked agitated as he handed the dealer the external com device.
“His Excellency wishes to speak with you, Sir.”
Katze nodded and took the com. “Stay here. I’ll drive myself.”
Was it relief he saw in his chauffeur’s face? Katze smothered the knowing smile. He didn’t much like leaving his own lair to head to the towers of power either, but it was the price of his relative and continued autonomy.
Raoul’ study was didactic series of contrasts to the few who had access to his private haven. The far corner boasted a low couch that clung to the walls opposite floor to ceiling windows overlooking the great city below.
An odd choice of placement to those predisposed to aesthetics alone, but that was neither here nor there to the Chief Medical Officer and geneticist of note within the Commonwealth.
The expansive view afforded his contemplative mind respite on those sleepless nights, plentiful of late, when nothing else would appease but the mesmerizing sight of Amoi’s star speckled skies back lit by the ambient light of twin moons.
An ancient antique called a coffee table from a world thousands of years forgotten had seen many costly repairs, but still resided there despite the veiled censure of his furniture Deek, who loathed the item in question; its nicks and warp offending the supercilious servant’s perfectionist sensibilities.
Imported, aromatic oils were applied ritualistically by the Master himself. The pleasingly subtle synthesized scents of cinnamon, bergamot, and sandalwood permeated the room and sometimes even his ungloved hands as he worked diligently, such as now.
It was calming to the Elite’s exceptionally acute sense of smell.
A quiet cough from the doorway heralded the Furniture’s presence at the door, dark brown eyes akin to basilisk as he observed his Master, white silken shirt partially undone and sleeves rolled, hands naked in plain view and a cloth, an actual cloth marred with dark oils held firmly within a large palm as the Master continued to rub the offensive item.
“What is it Deek?”
“Forgive the intrusion, Master,” the dignified servant bowed deeply, “I merely wish to inquire as to when you wish your evening meal served?”
Raoul blinked. Had he been in here that long? He looked to the mauve sky without the windows. It was evening.
“Shortly,” The Elite said dismissively then thought better of it. “No, I have notes to go through. Set my bath first and then see about having the meal brought here once I am ready.”
Deek inclined his head a fraction more before giving the loathsome elongated wooden surface one final hateful glance.
“As you wish, Master.”
Four hours.
Possibly the longest debrief in the history of their sometimes tenuous alliance. The query about his physical state and the vision he presented was almost enough to send the ex-Furniture over the edge toward the end.
Iason, always coolly circumspect, had been on form; his agile mind flitting from topic to topic impatiently, while pale eyes scanned the dealer, assessing the veracity of his verbal responses. This usually happened after communion with Jupiter.
Fortunately, Riki’s timely intervention spared further personal inquiry as the conversation shifted focus back to the recent attempted incursions into their ‘commercial’ venture in Midas.
Katze’s shoulders slumped in the relatively safe confines of his vehicle, his hand automatically reaching for a smoke. Energy reserves rapidly dwindling, he set the controls to autopilot and scanned the com for news of the delivery.
He needed one thing to go right today.
The red-head exhaled with relief as his eyes rapidly scanned the screen. A relief short lived as the open panel he reached into for his cigarettes provided an unanticipated offering, a clear box with a single pristine item, glaringly white against the dark paneling.
“Fuck.”
The urge to smack himself senseless against the hard metallic dashboard and have done with his pathetic existence was only overridden by one fact. He didn’t need Raoul Am on his ass anymore than he already was. How had he forgotten that Stee was to make this delivery?
He would have to do it himself. No choice and what was more, his own shipment had gone AWOL in the mix. Someone had appropriated it. Two guesses as to whom, Katze thought irritably, with the flimsy excuse of some newly enforceable security protocol.
The pain in his clenched jaws served its purpose, only barely alleviating the anger he felt in the pit of his stomach. A quickly tapped message to Donovan; a perfunctory response in the affirmative confirmed what he already knew.
Raoul had found another way to fuck with him.
Katze gazed beyond the tinted screen at the twin moons and tried to temper his seething rage with reason. It could be worse. He could have had it destroyed on principle. Instead the irritating bastard had chosen to hold it hostage.
“Over a fucking glove, Raoul?!” Katze slammed his fists on the dash in frustration and groaned as his mind searched for alternatives but found none. His damn fingers were throbbing again. What the fuck did it matter anyway?
Katze cut the engine and gathered the box, pocketing it and looked up towards the glowing towers with trepidation. There was the slim chance that Raoul might not be home and the hand off could take place with his Furniture.
“Might as well get it over with,” he murmured to himself approaching the entrance, his usual diffident expression firmly in place as he lowered his gaze a fraction upon approach and steeled himself for whatever might await. They might have him in servitude, but he would deny them his soul.
Eying the metallic surface of the nondescript item that sat atop his desk, Raoul’s brows furrowed. By all rights, he could open it. He had the authority after all, but he had other plans.
He sipped the chilled wine and lazily watched Deek lay out the evening meal, as ordered, atop the coffee table; an extra setting and utensils laid discreetly to one side.
“Will there be anything else, Master Am?”
The bath had been a boon after a tiring day. He had not felt the need to dress. A simple silken robe sufficed for modesty’s sake. He rather liked the color, if truth be told, it so closely matching his eyes.
“No, you may attend to your own needs, Deek. I will take it from here.”
Brown eyes held curiosity but masked it, turning instead towards the door.
“Oh and Deek,” Raoul’s level gaze pinned the servant in place, “just to be clear, I will require nothing further of you tonight. Take this rare opportunity to enjoy the comforts of your quarters until such time as I have need of you.”
The elder servant bowed deeply and retreated on silent feet.
Quietly, the elevator doors opened, revealing a well appointed hall with two doors at opposing ends of the floor. Katze pursed his lips. If he chose the servant’s entrance, that could be taken as a slight, but equally, it would guarantee no Raoul.
Amber eyes drifted to the more stately entrance.
The Furniture would be the one to greet him regardless of which approach he took. The formal entrance however did have a wild card based on interior layout alone. Beyond the great doors was the open space, reserved for the entertainment of guests, furthering the likelihood of an encounter with, if not Raoul, then other Elites in attendance.
Katze smirked. Raoul would not appreciate that in the least, considering the clear packaging. Possibly embarrassing questions would be asked; conjectures had.
Choice made, Katze turned toward the servant’s entrance, glad of the unexpected reprieve.
“Have you an appointment with Deek? I wasn’t aware you knew each other socially, Katze.”
Turning swiftly to face the disembodied voice, Katze came face to chest with the softest of silken material that made his fingers itch to touch. He blinked, completely caught off guard by Raoul’s proximity, his scent.
“I did not wish to disturb your evening, Master Am,” the Black Market dealer murmured, keeping his gaze averted as he pointedly handed the box to the Elite, who chose to ignore the gesture.
“Likely story.”
Mesmerized, Katze watched as the hem of the green silk robe drifted through the open doors and the lingering scent of warmed sandalwood wafted to his nostrils.
Katze gritted his teeth in anger. The pro-offered box still lay in his open palm untouched.
“Come if you are coming, don’t be tiresome. I’m hungry.”
**********
Author’s Note:
Chapter nine is going to be quiet, sumptuous dinner....stay tuned. Hope you enjoyed this chapter. This is a hell of a fun ride with two of my favourite characters. Let me know what you think.By the way, am so loving this process that I am spending the time to renumber the chapters tonight. You know you love something when you're doing that lol! It means I am now officially transplanted and am living in Amoi for the next year. Yes, that is how long this story is going to take.
Namaste
EP