Insanity Chapter Two

Insanity

Chapter Two

~How We All Met: Part Two~

Before Day One 

                The Undertaker laid six folders on the desk and smiled at Fang. There were times when Fang thought the man was crazy. But, since the Undertaker was helping him, Fang found no reason not to trust him.            

                “Sorry, looks like these were the only ones left,” Undertaker laughed. “You can take your pick.”

                “How many do I need to make a team?” inquired Fang.

                “Well, the fewer you have, the less noticeable you are. However, the more you have, the quicker you become.” He paused. “And…it doesn’t hurt to have back-up when you need it. You know, just in case you mess up.”

                “I don’t mess up,” Fang muttered, “at least, not anymore.”

                The Undertaker’s smile grew. He liked this kid. He wasn’t sure why, but his instincts were never wrong, no matter how old he had become. The Undertaker flipped through one of the folders.

                “Well, let’s see what we have,” he said. “Shadow Pierce…he looks fine. Except…”

                “He’s hard to control and has a strange fascination with blood,” Fang finished for him.

                “Good to know you can read upside-down,” the Undertaker’s smile grew wider. “Well, what do you think?”

                “I think I can control him.”

***

Shadow Pierce

               

                Shadow sat at a corner of an alley, his black hair covering his eyes. Even falling to his shoulders, it was relatively short compared to Fang’s or the Undertaker’s. He stirred at the sound of footsteps, opening his red eyes to look down the alley. Fang approached, his face serious as ever.

                “Are you Shadow Pierce?” Fang asked, stopping before him.

                Shadow turned his head to peer up at Fang. His skin looked rather pale in the sunlight, but he looked as healthy as any man. Shadow shifted his weight, and in that moment Fang caught a glimpse of his scarred arms.

                “No,” Shadow said after a moment of silence.

                “You’re a hard man to find, Shadow, did you know that?” Fang continued as if Shadow hadn’t spoken.

                “Look, I’m not in the best of moods, so why don’t you bug off?” Shadow hissed, resting his head and ignoring Fang.

                “I’m with the Tower and I need a team. I thought that you’d like to get off this corner and do something other than waste away here.”

                “You thought wrong,” Shadow looked up at Fang again, his eyes turning more hostile. “Me and the Tower, we don’t exactly get along. That’s why they discharged me and I quit. So either you go back the way you came, or I gut you here and now.”

                “I’d like to see you try,” Fang said, straight-faced.

                In a fraction of a second, Shadow was on his feet, dagger in hand and lunging at Fang’s neck. Just as quickly, Fang stepped back and to the side, dodging the attack. For a moment, Shadow was shocked; that was the first time he’d missed in years. But it didn’t faze him for long. He adjusted his dagger in hand and aimed another blow, which Fang dodged just as easily as the first time.

                “Alright, that’s how you want to play?” Shadow drew five more daggers, holding three in each hand. “Let’s see if you can dance.”

                He threw them at Fang, who leapt back into a backflip, dodging two daggers on the spot. He then rolled out of the way of three more, jumping again to dodge the last one. Through it all, he watched Shadow.

                “Finally,” Fang said with a bored look, “You’re beginning to interest me.”

                “I’ll give you something to be interested in!” Shadow roared, charging at Fang.

                He raced towards Fang, picking up the used daggers as he ran. He, of course, had more, but thought, ‘Why waste what you can reuse?’

                He lunged for Fang’s neck, but Fang cocked his head and the dagger passed.  He grabbed Shadow’s wrist, keeping him from moving, then turned and aimed a kick that sent Shadow flying back. But Shadow would not be outdone.

                He got to his feet again, about to throw yet more of his daggers. He hesitated, however, when Fang took off his long coat, throwing it to the floor, a move that Shadow hadn’t been expecting at all. Fang ran around, catching Shadow in that moment’s pause, and kicked Shadow’s leg, sending him crashing to the ground.

                When Shadow came to his senses and was about to get up, he found himself staring down the barrel of a silver gun. He froze, waiting for the gun to go off.

                It didn’t.

                “Now, let me explain my situation,” Fang started. “I need a team, and frankly, I’m not giving you much of a choice anymore. I’ve seen what you can do and I think that I can help you. So, what do you say?”

                “If I say yes, will you get that gun out of my face?”

                “I’ll consider it.”

***

Pawn Shop

                 “He is interesting,” the Undertaker observed, twirling a lock of hair around his finger in thought, “Very interesting.”

                “Who’s next?” Fang asked.

                “Raven Crow.” The smile returned. “A little redundant, wouldn’t you say?”

                “They’re different birds,” Fang stated, looking at the file.

                “Might as well have named her black bird,” the Undertaker mused, his smile widening.

                Reighn shook its head. Sometimes, the Undertaker could be trying.

                “Looks like she was a childhood soldier,” Fang read.

                “Shame,” Undertaker stopped smiling and sighed, “People like that don’t usually make good Agents.”

                “All of these don’t,” Fang paged through the files. “That’s why I want them.”

***

Raven Crow

                “Your future holds nothing for you, your love life is nonexistent, and I foresee your immediate unhappiness,” Raven stated in monotone.

                The older woman seated before her gasped and swore before storming out.

                Raven sat cross-legged in front of a fake crystal ball beneath a purple tent, the top half of her face concealed by the cowl of her hood. Her hair was purple in color and cropped short. Her eyes were a dark green.

                Taking a deep breath, she called, “Next!”

                She hated her job. Because she looked so odd, the traveling carnival made her pretend to be a fortune teller. She would close shop after the next person; she was reaching her breaking point for the day.

                A shadow loomed in the entranceway of the tent. Looking up, Raven saw Fang. She sighed, sitting up straight.

                “Welcome to the mystic world of fortunetelling. I am Raven, the Bird of Foresight. What would you like me to disclose for you today?”              

                “Nothing, really,” Fang stated.

                She looked at him curiously. “Really?”

                “Yeah,” he replied. “I don’t believe in foresight.”

                “Then what are you doing here?”

                “Well, I came to offer you a job,” Fang said, sitting down. “From the reaction of that girl out there, you hate it here.

                “Why wouldn’t I?” Raven shrugged. “What job are you offering me?”\

                “I work for the Tower,” Fang explained. “I’m sure you’ve heard of it.”

                Of course she’d heard of it; she’d tried to apply for it.

                “Now you idiots realize how much of an asset I am?” Raven rolled her eyes.

                “No, they haven’t,” said Fang. Raven looked at him, confused. “But I have. I’ve been asked to lead a Black team. And naturally, I need members. What do you say?”        

                Raven looked down at the crystal ball between them, thinking for a moment. After a while, she stood, walking out of the tent. The line was gone; the girl had probably scared away all of her customers. There was only one man left, standing like a shadow a few feet away, staring at her with red eyes. He seemed to be waiting for someone.

                “Is that one out there your other teammate?” she asked Fang.

                “Yeah,” he replied. “His name’s Shadow.”

                “Why do you want me?”

                “You’re a childhood soldier,” Fang said, looking at her.

                “The Tower said I have rage issues.” She stared back at him. “One minute I’m calm, the next I’m at your neck.”

                “I can help you with that,” said Fang, standing at the opened tent flap. “Shadow there cuts and loves playing with blood. Considering  that, yours is a much easier problem to deal with.”

                Raven looked back outside at Fang’s teammate. “How long have you two known each other?”

                “A few months,” answered Fang.

                She caught a glimpse of Shadow’s arms. They were scarred, and there was evidence of a few newer cuts, but they didn’t look as deep as the others. Shadow looked at the purple-haired girl, feeling her gaze on him. She looked as if she were about to cry. In truth, she was, but she kept herself together.

                “I guess anywhere is better than here,” she said.

                “Does that mean you’ll be coming with us?” Fang asked, standing and preparing to leave.

                “Sure, why not?” Raven pulled her hood up again and ventured outside. “I have an ax to pick with the Tower. This might be the perfect way to do it.”

***

Pawn Shop

“Yes, yes. She has promise, I can tell you that,” Undertaker nodded thoughtfully. “Now what do you expect to gain, exactly, by having a bunch of crazies on your team?”

                Fang shrugged. “I need a team, don’t I? And I don’t think I can be too picky. I need all I can get.”

                “Well, you can get a little picky,” the Undertaker smiled and laughed.

                Fang couldn’t see what was so funny. He glanced at the Neuw on the desk, which was scribbling away. It seemed to barely notice its master’s hysterical laughter, yawning and carrying on with its calculations.

                “Who else do we have here?” Fang asked.

                With great effort, the Undertaker pulled himself together, but still had that wide smile on his face. He propped his head on his hand, his long black nails just barely touching his face.

                Fang rolled his eyes, looking at the next folder. “Alister Strider,” he said thoughtfully. “Now this one looks interesting.”

                “Oh, him?” Undertaker smiled, “Yeah, he’s a real work of art, that’s all I can say.”