Faux Visage

The heavy black coat clung like a cape to the chair he sat in, the aroma of tea filled the air as he sat alone in the tea house in Sai Kung. The code drenched shades lay on the table next to his cup as he leaned back in his chair staring up at the ceiling. Beyond the roof of the building the sky, was a dull grey as the clouds seemed to merge above like a pale canopy. Drops of rain made the clouds swell before they escaped on mass assualting the world below.

As he allowed himself to take in the gentle aroma he stopped, a subtle yet unforgettable aroma had entered the air, his mind tried to place it but didn't need to as the sliding rice paper doors opened. The race to process was a tie between the brightly colored dress and the curvacious hips of the pale skinned vixen. The succubai's crimson hair and tight clothes were almost distracting enough to overlook the weapony she carried. However it was not her scent that he'd picked up, but rather that of the one she was escorting. Clad in black, with a funeral veil, the woman gracefully waltzed across the threshold and towards his table. Another deadly piece of eye candy entered the room from the door behind him - again a tie between weapons and 'ballistics' in the race for awareness. 

The woman in the veil lighly pulled the chair out across from him and gently sat down, though difficult to see, her eyes were upon him - staring into his own. Like the guards she had with her, there was a duality to everything about her- her eyes especially. Soft and chocolate brown, how easy it was to confuse that warm color, to allow it to convey that comforting, alluring softness - that well devised perfect illusion to hide how truly sharp and piercing they could be. An irony in light of his own eyes exposed completely, the abnormal blue of them no longer captured behind the shades he always wore. The moment he truly felt the sharpness from her eyes meeting him he reached for those shades, his fingers were inches from them when she broke the silence.

"Don't." Her tone managed to convey the order as more of a request, more of plea a need a desire, when in truth it was all part of a game, that's all she had now perhaps, compared to what she once did, these games that keep her from allowing the wind to sweep her away - his mind raced with every thought and every concept as his hand recoiled slowly. His composure remained steady, body language unphased but his face yielded the annoyance- his eyes yielded the annoyance. Walls can breed complacency, when one is knocked down, a person may not be able to handle what lay behind it. So much off a single word - an eternity in this thought process, this game of chess masked in a simple tea party.

"This one going to cause any trouble mistress?" The succubai standing behind him had made the inquiry, a closer inspection of the trench hugging his chair had opened her eyes to just how many weapons were strapped to its interior.

The veiled head cocked slightly, her eyes still meeting his, as she smiled softly, the tiniest shape gripping those lips, perfect and soft lips that had met so many so maliciously. A smile from so many others would mean nothing more than such, but from her - it was enough to make him want to pistol whip her, to see that mouth without a smile, break through the mask.

"Are you going to be any trouble Darminian?" The softness of her french accent clinging to her words like wings, letting them float so softly making them light and relaxing, easing down his guard, trying to soften him. He reached down gently and picked up the cup, lifting it to his lips he paused a moment- without any subtlety he looked her over head to toe. The dark veil that covered her face beneath the dark hat was a new twist - his eyes moved lower noting the same cut of her dress the wide straps on her shoulders that lead the eye down to her chest, it was a darker black to go with the Veil and just as dangerous. The side of his mouth barely moved enough to display a subtle smirk above his raised cup as he spoke.

"You never know."

Behind the veil her grin widened as she waved her hand, her escorts nodded and stepped out of the room closing the doors behind them. It was appreciable to have regard for formality despite the fact that the rice paper provided no privacy. He filled another cup in front of his guest and continued to subtly analyze her every action, her every movement, her every breath.

"Are you surprised to see me here?" Again the softness in her words masked the venom flowing through them, the infectious taunts and provocations that screamed but weren't phrased.

"I knew someone from that circle would wind up here sooner or later, though i expected it to be a lot more violent."

"My husband does not know i'm here, i merely wished to speak to you myself."

"About what?" He replied his words taking a sharper edge, though the illusion he crafted was of stone, the coldness and roughness, the stubborn and unmoveable - she could get under his skin - she knew it as did he. So often did he manage to dissociate himself from emotion and yet encompassed within her was the means to analyze and absorb it - to extract and extort, to belittle to control. A dangerous truth he'd come to realize was that unlike so many others in this place, she was one of the few who threatened him, who could unbalance him - and so unlike his usual nature he had no desire to play with the flame, only to stomp it out. Again his thoughts drowned him as an eternity of contemplation passed before she spoke again.

"You..." Her reply was so simple, yet an encompassment of his distaste, beneath the table his fists clenched, so strange this effect she brought with her, how with so many others self control was always easy - but with this one - how the beasts roared within his mind but still he maintained - saved face - kept the mask in place.

"You've been driven to chase after this man, to follow him, to risk your life and so many others to 'save' him? - Yet he is not in a posistion to be saved, not in need of rescue. But still you hunt, still you are driven to chase - what motivates you to do that?" The longest she'd spoken thus far, but it landed with a resounding impact. Clear cut her desire to analyze, to break down the walls and see who was behind the masks. It was clear to him now that this wouldn't be a game of shot for shot, but rather of cat and mouse.

"Boredom." Sarcasm is always a last bastion of hope to erect the walls of stone that keep him, to push back the eyes that pry and the words clasped by wings that attempt to get past him.

"Of the rumors i've heard of you - it is interesting you take on such a strange sentiment."

"Dare i pry?"

"Only amongst the women - i've heard you're a bit of .... un loup?"

The mask slipped to reveal that grin, that sadistic smile that could hug his lips when unmentionable thoughts came to mind. A moment passed before he realized that she noted the grin curiously, it faded as soon as he spotted it.

"Gossip is a dangerous thing." He replied, taking another sip of tea before letting the cup give way to the same subtle smirk he'd been wearing before.

"I see..." She trailed off on purpose, her words relayed a sense of confusion but in his mind it was a coin toss between her taking the hint, or seeing the animal within. 

"And of this man you are chasing, you care for him a great deal i think..."

"He's like a brother to me."

"And what about the brother you once had?"

His smirk vanished as his teeth clenched, his brow tightened and he took in air through his nose to calm himself, allowing the aroma of the tea to calm him - but her perfume was like fire in his nostrils- his self-control waning as a fist began to shake beneath the table. He let the air slip from his lips as his teeth released, his hand stopped shaking and opened as he composed himself. The vein she had struck had almost proven to be fatal.

"You're playing a very dangerous game right now, be careful."

"Every game here is dangerous, though few play as well as i, you're quite a player yourself."

That smile sickened him as he shifted in his seat.

"Not by blood." She addressed a thought he'd not spoken of and it sent a chill down his spine.

"What?"

"Code." This time it was her that looked up and down, taking in the scene that was his atire, his posture - his hair, everything and yet her gaze looked so much deeper, into the very strands that represented him within this place.

"That is what formed your past brotherhood, and it is what forms his bond now."

"His bond? - You mean the deal he cut?" She didn't say a word but simply extended her hand across the table, palm up, as the delicate fingers spread. The two waited, both aware of what the other wanted, but both aware of what would happen.

"Don't be afraid."

"I like my secrets the way they are."

"Then i won't share with you mine."

She motioned to get up from the table when he reached across the table and let the tips of his fingers contact her hand, she sat back down and waited as his palm reached her own. Her skin was soft, not as warm as he'd expected, her fingers turned his hand and slowly drifted across his palm.

"You'd enjoy my flesh wouldn't you?" She asked with that same smile, those same looks and thoughts that worked one way but did so much more, dug so much deeper.

"You'd have to ask- mon loup." He replied as he stared down watching her hand atop his. The instant hers crossed his own his head and eyes pounded in agony, everything whirred by as memories ripped through his mind, timelines and events that had occured from his life within zion to life he'd lead before- the different walk of life with the man he considered a brother - flashes of anguish and hatred and pain and sorrow - flooded to the surface as his head began to throb, it wasn't the events that he felt but rather the emotions of those events - siphoned from him - a japanese styled dojo - anguish beyond words and rage a palpable rage that lead to burning crimson - a loathing a hatred - a flash and the table between them seemed to splinter as she stumbled back - he leapt across the ruined table and forced her to the wall a hand at her throat.

The smile had vanished, a look of surprise caught between delight and fear left her face almost blank - the two guards burst into the room and pointed their guns at him. He breathed heavily, his whole body aching, his head feeling as though it'd been ripped in two.

"*CENSORED* you." He forced out as his chest rose and fell rappidly. She was speechless, the guards yelled but didn't fire- not within the proximity of their mistress. Gently she reached up and tugged lightly at the hand around her throat - he let her remove it but not easily. He walked back towards the table and picked up his coat shaking it free of the dust from the table. He pushed his way past the guards and out the rice paper doors. She seemed frozen in place as her gaze was blank, she mouthed words she couldn't speak and moved to the table.

On the street he tightened the collar of his coat as the rain beat down, he began to walk slowly down the street when her voice reached him - she'd called his name - aloud of all things. He turned and she walked towards him slowly - shaken to both of their surprises - she extended a hand towards him, in which the code drenched shades sat.

The goliaths of steel and glass set the back drop for an uneventful adventure, an exciting nothingness. The black four door creeps along the undeniably busy city streets, around sharp turns, under overpasses, over underpasses, it's guts held down by the driver on a scenic route that was painful for both parties. Amidst the chaos that is a large city like this, the duality works in an undesirable sense. That undeniable void that seemed to claw its way back to the surface after set amounts of time had once again returned, it was there regardless of the districts, of the city blocks.

The behemoth towers that stretched out atop the city blocks downtown peeled away without any noise, replaced by the subtleties of Asian architecture, those wet streets between apartments hotels and restaurants, that baseball field - it always seems to be raining in this district, but even the droplets hit the car without much notice to the driver, they slide away as fast as the district seems to, a long bridge and soon that sense of order and beauty is stripped away in the face of the slums. A seedy look into the collapsing underbelly of the beast.

Like an open wound to a tortured animal, the broken relics of a civilization, leaning and prepared for inevitable collapse, it's here that the interior of the animal is exposed, this falseness, this world swept under the rug. Debris and barrel fires keep the warmth for any of those brave or stupid enough to tread the ground claimed by the exiles here. These are the empires of dirt, these are the beings that cling to the mud and say no other being shall wallow in it as they do. The black beast, so tightly reigned and controlled cruises slow down the broken street, there are no vagrants or peasants here, only warmongers with fangs - patrolling, playing, dieing for a thrill.

His hands grip the wheel tightly as the car slows even further, like so many other nights it's just him and the beast, cruising for something, for anything. He likes to think he knows what he's looking for. Likes to think he has all the answers but he doesn't, he rarely does. This place has never been about answers, never been about learning - not really. Anyone who isn't too full of *poop* can tell you it's about illusions. Illusions of grandeur, power, importance, meaning - even of worth. Of course the most important illusion of all is based on the mask we wear, it always has to be one that knew the answer, at least if you don't want it to give way to the cracks.

The car stops and seems to growl as one of the boys with the grey skin, bad dental plan and greasy hair stands in front of it, he'd make some witty remark about the first and last mistake but the truth is, he's looking for the pack to circle in, and the first mistake is what they are holding. The one in front of the car is holding a bat, just that simple, he's got fangs and nails that could do some real damage, and like the mindless thug he's being lead to be - he's holding a bat. The others seem to creep up from the nearby shadows, waiting for the opportunity to have some fun. Another one moves behind the car, he's got a stupid grin on his face that's going to be fun to remove.

The one who's really going to get it though is the one who taps on the window, he wants to chit chat, maybe talk about why the driver should step out of the vehicle, hand over the keys and maybe he can walk home in one piece. Truth is he's thinking it's some moron who's taken a wrong turn. In this digital reality, the truth of the matter is the driver knew where he was going, and these kids have decided to roll some loaded dice. The window rolls down slowly, enough so that the cold unnatural blue eyes are underlined by the automatic window. The drinker is startled, he couldn't tell by his face, but it was that chill that ran down his spine that he could see, he could feel, from behind the tinted window he grinned.

"Get out of the car and you won't get killed."

"Soon enough, I don't suppose you have any idea who I am though?"

"I don't give a *CENSORED* who you are, get out of the car now."

"Good."

It's the word he hears as the door opens slightly, these guys are amateurs, it almost won't be fun to kill them, almost. He doesn't even see it coming he's so grab-happy for the door, he takes a step to close and doesn't have time to see the drivers foot on the door, it flies open and catches his him in the face, the pleasure of checking to see if any of the teeth were knocked loose from the door is interrupted by a swift kick to his mouth which answers the question perfectly, one of the fangs and a couple other teeth bounce across the road as the blood marks their path. A harsh stomp brings the heel of the dress shoe down somewhere between his eyes and mouth, a sickening crunch seems to echo through the alleyway as he turns his attention to the one with the bat.

It's pathetic really, he comes running forward, the one at the back of the car thinks he can hold me in place, and like a badly choreographed fight, I just tilt to the left and feel the hot crimson splash onto me as the bat collides with the one who's holding me in place's head. The one holding the bat freezes in place, shocked at his own handy-work, it would have been more beneficial if he'd gotten angry over shocked. It's like taking the smoking gun from a remorseful killer, the metal clang of the bat on the road seems to snap him back to reality before the top of my head breaks his nose, my grip on his collar pulls his head back like a gory punching bag clown as my right fist drills into the mush that is the center of his face sending him to the ground.

His finale is coming, when I hear his friend behind me stir, I guess the bat wound wasn't fatal, just means more for me, the morons head is split open and the blood is almost disturbing his vision, no doubt he's trying to fight off a severe concussion, he's pulled out an Uzi and trying to smile, like he's got the stones to shoot or the ability to hit me. I chuckle as I stare him down and get in his face, the gun is the only thing between us, and it's already obvious to me he doesn't know what he's doing.

"Well?"

He looks for words but can't find them; like that blow to the head scrambled the small grey matter he had to begin with. He puts the gun in my face and pulls the trigger, the hollow click confirms what I knew, and he pulls the trigger like an idiot thinking it's a revolver. I strip the weapon from his grip with a quick twist and angle it down.

"You have to *CENSORED* it, it brings the bullet in the mag' into the chamber so it's good to fire. Like this see."

He watches me *CENSORED* it like an infant perplexed by something unknown, the surreal nature of the situation amusing to me, confusing to him.

"You try."

He really is a moron, he reaches down to the weapon like I'm going to let him have it, his hands get near it, and I unload about 20 rounds into his legs and watch him collapse screaming in pain as his hands try to recognize the mess of blood, ripped flesh and what once was muscle tissue and tendon. I move around to his head and place the heel of my boot on the crack already started, another good stomp and that small amount of grey matter splashes out onto the ground beneath him. I drop the Uzi and move back towards the side of the car, I pick up that bat and stand over the one who brought it to this party. He seems to be choking and gagging on his blood, battling with consciousness - I wonder if he hears the clank of the bat striking the cement through his skull, doesn't matter. I toss the bloodied instrument back to the earth and get back in the black four door.

The animal seems to purr as the driver takes it around another corner leaving this area of west view, leaving behind him three broken bodies and mess no one would want to clean up. The wasted resources of west view, squandered on the cement, as he continues to drive, looking for something he can't find.

A beast, in a beast, swallowed by the city.

Another long drive, white knuckles grip the circular reigns of the four doored, black beast. Rain whips idly against the windows, the gentle tick of each impact helping his face hide the flames that are burning away within. The light turns green and the beast roars on. A thin stretch of road with nothing but wearhouses and a lamp post with the bulb burnt out. The car creeps through the area, somethings in the air, a static a scent the taste of something out of place, a few feet more and the light flickers. She leaning against it, the girl who fits in but looks out of place.

The woman in black.

Not head to toe, just enough. The problem with having and living for the finer things is that eventually you develop a taste for that which you can't have. The truth is we all want something to chase after, some of us want to catch it and keep it, some of us want to keep chasing it, and some of us catch it, and realize they shouldn't have run so fast.

The glory of the hunt.

It stops and seems to growl, his hands loosen on the wheel and he whispers to it "shh." as he reaches down and presses the button - popping the lock on the door. Her form lifts gently from the pole and she opens the door, she steps in and shakes hear head lightly, his eyes catch the water landing in the interior of his car, but the classic hair toss keeps his mouth shut.

She's the one they all want, and for good reason, that being said it's that reason he keeps the beast so closely chained, so restricted, a man who lives and goes against the grain for sometimes nothing more then his own amusement. Or because he knows how easily one can allow themself to be guided by the wrong organ.

"Joy riding again?" - She asks him as she leans back in the car, looking around the interior, amused at the oh-so surprising black motiff and leather interior, fancier then one would expect, but nothing unexpected.

"If that's what you want to call it, i enjoyed the art metaphor." He replies, coldy, but that's how he speaks, that's how he always speaks. She reclines the seat and leans back. His eyes linger as his foot hits the floor and beast roars again, the four door speeds out of westview and hits the bridge, dodging the light traffic as he heads for the skyscrapers in the distance.

"You going to help tonight, or do you just want to 'appreciate' my work?" - He chuckles as the words leave his lips, it's the kind of laugh that would make almost anyone feel out of place, feel as if the last place they'd want to be was in the car, but not her. She knows why she's there, she knows she wants to be there when the art is created, when he gets the 'creative' juices flowing. The smirk on his lips is the only thing more disturbing, it's a genuine smile, he's genuinely going to enjoy himself.

"I don't want to intefere with you art, at least not tonight."

"Do i forsee a coop piece in the near future?"

"Maybe." - Her smile is faint, more like the corners of her mouth turning slightly, the truth is they get one another, but they don't know one another. She's the same as most of her associates, the craving and logic behind a life lived for the finer things, a life he knows well enough, but she's got a pair on her that could give most of the people he knew a run for their money.

The car tears through traffic downtown and pulls itself behind a large tower, automated scaffolding rests at the back of the building, the window cleaners ready to return to work in the morning have supplied the means to tonight excursion. The beast gently falls to silence as the two step out of the vehicle, she stares upwards at the beast of steel and glass before her as he moves to the trunk, the pop and slam of it cause her to turn and face him as he walks from the back of the car with a small black duffel bag.

"What's in the bag?"

"A mop."

She looked at him strangely as he walked past her and stepped onto the elevator, she turned and followed him onto it aswell. The gears came to life and soon they were ascending the giant, the air whipped more violently the higher they climbed, window after window past them and they watched the beast they'd come in on shrink to the size of a marble as finally they stopped. She peered through the window into a small office space, the lights inside were out, but light creapt in from under the door that lead into the office.

"Silent approach eh?" She placed her hands on her hips and looked over at him coyly, he contemplated meeting her stare before he simply replied "nope." The butt of his revolver smashed a large hole in the window, a few more times and there was a walk way for him to get through, he tossed the bag through it and onto the floor and made his way to the door, she stepped through and watched him. He wasn't sure if she heard the words leave his lips but he grinned after saying them -

"show time."

From the hallway outside the office a security guard readied his weapon, slowly he reached out with his hand, fingers moving towards the handle, his eyes wide, heart pounding, trying to prepare himself for what he would face.

The door seemed to splinter as it was ripped from it's hinges, the fierce kick having sent it in the guards direction, his arms were up to protect himself and within seconds the next blows had been dealt. An elbow to the center of his chest emptied his lungs and a second which compacted his nose, bloodying his uniform.

Another guard opened a door at the end of hall and yelled inaudibly as he raised his weapon and aimed. Grappling with the bloodied guard, Darminian twisted the arm with the weapon and turned his torso, a meat shield for him as his finger sought out his enemies and the sound of the gun filled the hallway - 3 shots connected with the guard who'd burst out of the door, a sickening snap bent the gunmans arm back and with another pull the fourth bullet from his gun lodged itself somewhere near the left side of the bloodied guards cranium.

He cracked and strecthed his neck as her small frame appeared in the doorway, a look of curiosity and simple enjoyment on her face. "Grab the mop would you?" He said to her as he continued down the hallway, she grabbed the duffel bag and followed suit. He stepped through the doorway and immediately leaned back as a bullet collided with the wooden frame where he'd just been standing. He reached down to the body beneath him and picked up the beretta. She watched him curiosly and turned her head. In a pseudo chow-yun fat style probably for the sake of amusing his audience he dove out the door and let the weapon blast as the guard stupidly standing in the middle of the hallway, the first shot ripped through his internal organs, the next ripped a hole next to his badge, and the third caught his through cuasing the largest bloodied mass on the wall behind him as his frame collapsed.

He picked himself up and beckoned the woman, the two of them worked their way along the twisted and winding corridors of the typical mega city office, they neared the main room when he grabbed her arm and forced inside an unlit office, against the wall she clutched the bag tightly, the same look on her face that had been there all night, his head was turned towards the open door as he listened - he could hear the footsteps approaching. Two more guards were running down the hallway now, side by side. His hand reached down towards his ankle and withdrew the blade, her subtle grin seemed to widened as he waited for the window of opportunity to open.

"whenever god closes a door...."

As the two passed, the one on the right was stopped in his tracks a strong hand gripped his collar and wrenched him back, the center of his spine collided with an outstrechted blade and he groaned. His partner turned to see what'd had happend and watched in horror as Darminian seemed to use him as a sort of twisted puppet. He slammed his second meat shield into the guard and forced him against the wall, wrenching the blade out with disturbing ripping sound he swung it up and over his shields shoulder colliding with the throat of the guard, another ripping sound filled the air as the blade flicked itself outwards and sent a trail of blood along the wall. He spun the blade in his fingers and made a quick clean cut of his shields neck and dropped the lifeless body to the floor.

The two of them entered the main office and immediately he got behind the computer. He wasn't a hacker, and there wasn't enough time anways, he reached into his coat and withdrew the disk, popping into into the cd drive, he searched for the .exe and started it. Amidst the process of clicking and searching they managed to speak.

"Not bad, but i can't help but feel this has a different tone from your previous work." She said to him, seemingly dissapointed at his stop to deal with a computer as opposed to continue to redecorate the interiors of the office with it's newly found red motiff.

"Two birds, one stone - i needed some information."

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. I expected a bit more and a bit less."

"Think of this as an intermission."

"I'm surprised there hasn't been more shooting."

"Saving my ammo."

"For?"

At that moment an elevator dinged and the doors opened, the radio chatter was enough to inform the two that the tactical security was moving into posistion.

"Our guests - leave the bag the here."

He said to her as the loading bar that had come up on the screen reached 100%. He grabbed the disk and forced it into his jacket. His other hand moved inside of his jacket and both came out - the twin uzi's in hand. She dropped the duffel bag and followed him to the doorway.

"Two rights, down the hallway through the door, first office on the left and out the window." He said it cooly and calmly amidst the chaos they knew was ahead of them, she nodded and waited for him. "When i say go, book it." She nodded and watched him take in a deep breath.

"Go."

She'd bearly realized he'd said it when his frame had emerged from the doorway and the twin uzi's screeched to life, the extended clips would hardly be enough as the guards dove for any cover possible, the hallway exploded as round after round tore through the cheesy wall paper, the glass windows of rooms, an electrical exit sign, and even some cheap furniture in a lounge area. She ran in the direction he'd said but stopped to look back, to take sight of him guns a'blaze. His hands moved back and forth and crossed as he obliterated the hallway infront of him and toppled all of the swat who'd been unable to grab cover. She turned back to the path and ran.

As she stood on the elevator she heard the sporatic bursts of fire that seemed to get closer and closer, more time seemed to pass then should have when he finally emerged from the door and leapt onto the platform, he fumbled with a pair of harnesses beneath them.

"Don't tell me...."

"Did you think we were just going to push the ground button and maybe listen to some relaxing music?"

She smirked slightly as she caught the harness he through at her, the caribeeaners attached themselves to the cables of the platform and he nodded at her, with the remainder of his clip he open fire on the wires and the two began to freefall, just in time to see the tactical security running by the door. The ground was fast approaching as the screech of the metal on the wire caused sparks to shoot into the air, both parties now felt the heat of the friction of the metal on metal and the closer they got the less likely it seemed they would touch down without splattering themselves on the pavement, but within the last few feet something tugged hard on the cables and they managed to touch down with a painful but slowed impact.

The car doors slammed shut and the beast revved to life before tearing out from behind the building, a long straight away seperated the two from the tower behind them, and it seemed to loom over them a little less with each inch as they watched it in the rearview mirror.

"Finishing touches." He said aloud as he pointed at the glove box. She opened it and withdrew the strange tv remote-esque device. His sense of humor as twisted as it was could never allow him to not make sure the button was red. "No...." She said almost questioningly as he smirked at her. She pressed the button and in the distance a ring of fire seemed to explode outwards from one floor of the building.

"A good mop can clean up any mess my dear."

"You get points for the finale, but you could have done better."

"I don't work well under pressure, sue me."

The tower shrank and ceased to loom, as the four doored beast vanished amidst the darkness of the mega city streets.

====

I liked how it started however about half way through i felt like scrapping it, by the time i finished it felt like too much work to throw away. Too tired to spell check too, so bite me.