Five million dollars.

Enough to plan a trip to Bermuda, purchase two houses, bathe in Crystal daily and still have enough to build herself a materialistic heaven. Oh! And all she had to do was flaunt her talents before some cameras then autograph a picture or two.

Life, she thought, has never been so easily attainable, so easily realistic then it has at this very second.

Autumn Raselvich smiled brashly as she flung a handful of crimson red curls over her shoulders. She slipped a tight leather coat on, clasped the two bottom buttons in a rush, then blew a kiss to her make-up artist by the door. To her left, sitting contently next to his camera, Tim Burton waved an energetic good-bye to the blossoming actress.

Weird, creative, odd, intriguing; every report she’d read on Tim had confounded her a short six months ago. His unique style and diverse choice of actors had convinced her to sign a contract. Oh, and who in their right minds would turn down a profitable job with a pay of seven digits? More importantly, who could possibly throw away the opportunity to perform for America?

America…

“Schuldig, I knew that was him! I know I saw him!”

Who could possibly throw away that opportunity?

Five million dollars and all you have to do is perform for the infamous United States of America.

“Nice performance, Ms. Raselvich!”

The voice had thrown her back into reality. She had hardly noticed the man walk in. Hell, even his name had suddenly slipped her mind. She could barely register that the lights above her had shut down. Now, she stood in a darkened studio, the echoing sounds of machinery, murmured voices, and the steady rhythm of a mop the only sounds.

“You look tired.” The same man said over his shoulder as he pushed the mop forward. “Where are you going after this?”

“Home.” She said quietly to the janitor, her nerves still in brambles. “I’m going home.”

“Kein vielen dank. Ich werde laufen” Autumn shouted to her personal driver as she neared the curb.

She tossed a crumpled fifty mark into the driver’s hand, pushing past him down the crowded street. With a sideward glance, he stuffed the bill deep into his pleated pants and grunted. Instead of driving off, he slammed the Limousine’s door and trotted to her side.

It was like a gift almost, a sixth sense to say the least. Autumn didn’t understand it; she didn’t try either. Truth being, she sensed the driver narrowing the gap between them. Through the chaotic conundrum of Berlin, through the smell of cigarettes and booze, through all the lights and noise, Autumn was able to pick through and distinguish a single footstep.

She swiveled on her Marni heels and stuck a long manicured finger between his eyes. He stopped abruptly, cringing as her sharp nail indented his forehead.

“Was es los?” she inquired, rolling her eye in annoyance. “Und fickt ab!”

He stopped, frowned quiet rudely, stuttered a few words about raping, kidnapping and famous people, but stopped nonetheless.

“Fucking fans,” She whispered, spinning back around to resume her original course.

Behind her stood a desperate man, his shoulders slouched, arms limply swinging by his sides. Every gust of wind threw him forward, forcing him to regain his footing lest tumble to the cracked sidewalk. She knew he was sniffling, pathetically sniffling.

Oh well, She thought as she turned a crowded corner, He’s just going to have to adjust his small stitched cap, gorge on Hagan Daz and readjust his life like the others.

Men could act so pitiful sometimes. How such luscious curves, such a seductive voice and fame could win a man’s heart boggled her mind. Oh, but she couldn’t complain. She wouldn’t complain.

Twenty minutes later she approached Herrensitz Gasse, a four-block span of elite mansions and ritzy owners. White columns of marble spiraled three stories up to support rectangular balconies, large potted plants rested upon those ledges, English ivy grew across creamy marble porches.

Brilliant, She thought to herself with a self-assuring laugh, and I own this place.

To her left, luminous neon grass sprouted across every yard. She could still smell smog from the city but underneath there was a crisp scent, light and breezy, cold and brisk.

At one point in her life, Autumn would have scorned such a copious lifestyle, claiming the occupants of such residences were only rich snobs lacking work and modesty. Now, she breathed in the sophisticated fresh air and giggled. Compared to her old life, she now lived in pure luxury. Not only that, but she was lavished with affection, two things she’d longed for yet never deemed herself worthy of having.

After years defending mankind, She thought to herself, I finally get a bloody break.

There was a long circular driveway, built up with granite stones and neatly hedged sides, which Autumn took towards her front steps. At the halfway mark, she flipped open her cell, held down number one and raised it to her ear.

Silence.

No one answered.

Where the hell could he be? She thought, It’s ten on a Tuesday night. Where the bloody hell could he be?

Click.

“Hello, you’ve reached the Raselvich residence. If you are a demented fan or accidentally got this number, go screw yourself! But if you are someone of importance by all means please leave a message.”

“Schu? Baby, pick up the phone,” she cooed seductively into the receiver. She knew his juvenile mind games, knew them all by heart.

He was there, She said to herself, a smile on her lips, He’s probably standing right next to the phone. That asshole.

“You probably already know this but,” She paused, letting the adrenaline rush up through her veins. “I fucking got the job! We’ll be celebrating tonight, love!”

She let out a reassuring giggle. All this hard work, all the stress and the backbreaking labor at rehearsals and interviews were over. She was going to force herself to relax tonight, to just lay back and forget everything.

“Well, I’m coming up the stairs now,” She snorted into the phone, her voice elevated with energy, “So it is pointless for me to conti--”

Mid-sentence, as a smile was still forming on the redhead’s lips, the staticy voice of the operator cut in.

“Sorry, your call has been disconnected. To make another call, please hang up and try again. If you need some assistance, please--”

Autumn froze in bewilderment and glanced over at her silver phone.

Could the power have shut off? She thought for a second before the smile reappeared on her crimson lips, What the bloody fuck, Schu? Why must you always do this when I’m in a flipping good mood?

She huffed silently before shoving the phone back in her Louis Vuitton purse.

“When I get in there,” She said aloud as a strong wind threw strands of red into her face. “The first thing I’m going to do is smack you upside your head.”

If only she knew. It was sad really, almost depressing to watch such a blatant warning be so palpably ignored. Maybe if she hadn’t been so entirely engrossed in her one-way conversation she would have noticed the three gashes scraped across the oak tree. Maybe she would have seen it if her shock hadn’t been so profound. Maybe none of this would have ever happened if she had only looked a ways to her left.

Fate, as we all will know, had a funny way of celebrating with Autumn that night.

The phone cord lay tangled in a mound upon the burgundy carpet, grotesquely frayed and bent. Dying sparks bleed from one of the torn ends, sizzling silently as they landed on the floor. The actual phone rested close by; its contents, a small recording tape, had been brutally ripped apart. Its now empty body sat in pieces, ground into a thick ash on the red rug. The plug still flopped in its wall socket, a loose shredded end wobbling back and forth.

Somehow, he had gotten in.

The tape’s contents lay in his palm, one side of the brown ribbon unraveled down his arm. The man growled soundlessly and tore it cleanly between his teeth. The sound echoed throughout the dark room, a metaphorical scene of primal instinct.

One could have mistaken him as a carnivore cracking his victim’s spine with his fangs.

She couldn’t believe he’d dare hang up on her. After standing on her front stoop for several moments, analyzing every possibility, she logically concluded Schuldig must have hung up.

Fucking German, she screamed in her head, I’m getting sick of these games!

So what if they had fought the night before about her new role and the nudity involved? Did that justify his attitude now? Did he really need to revolt in such a manner?

She rarely found a director and plotline bizarre and intriguing enough to satisfy her, anyhow. Even if he played mind games now, she knew his anger rarely lasted longer then it needed.

Life paralleled a movie, she had once said to Tim over lunch, full of twists and turns, triangles of characters locked in passion and feuds. The only difference was that in life the ending was never predetermined.

She planned every step into the house, every line; scripted it beforehand, crafted it so they’d compromise and both be satisfied. Her hand touched the brass knob firmly. She took in a large breath and confidently pushed open the sanded mahogany door. What she saw confused her.

Darkness.

Her emerald eyes scanned the hallway as they adjusted to the dim surroundings. It was so dark she could barely make out her curvy figure in the mirror to her left.

I don’t understand, She whispered inwardly, Could you be that mad?

Past it lay a large oval room with a spiraling staircase leading to her five-bedroom loft. To the right of this the lounge and dining room connected to an elaborate sunroom. Usually all blinds and windows were kept open to freshen the large house. Not tonight, though, each window’s shade was pulled tight.

Autumn had tiger lilies lining each wall, plants, of which, needed ample sunlight. Rules had been set ages ago. Each flower was to be tended to daily. If found wilted, either replenished or replaced. Instead of the crisp, sweet aroma she expected her house to be of, a blast of humid air wafted into her face.

Then it happened, a single wilted petal floated off one of the hanging baskets to her right. It swiveled and spun in the air, drifting down slowly to the white marble floor.

“That’s it,” She screamed. “Enough!”

She knew Schuldig disapproved of her decisions but she never expected such a violent reaction.

“You killed my plants!” she shouted, hurling her silver phone to the floor. Upon impact, the small fragile case burst open, spilling tiny shards of black across the floor. Instead of bothering to gather the fragments, she scattered them with the toe of her boot and continued down the hall.

If he wanted to play mind games, she’d fight back. No one ever double-crossed her and lived to brag.

“What is it? Fucking 105° in here?“ She ranted before even entering the living room. “Did you really have to go and murder my plants, Schu!?”

Even though she couldn’t see him, she felt a presence through her sixth sense. Darkness blinded the untrained eye, camouflaging all truths behind a mask of illusion. Luckily, seven years of “special” training had taught Autumn how to use every element of her body, ever single sense.

In the pitch-blackness, her eyes quickly adjusted and focused on a lanky figure silhouetted against the couch. Although no features could be distinguished, she felt an intimate vibe with him. So, with anger raging on her young face, she continued forward.

So flustered by Schuldig’s insensitive reaction, she forgot about the peeled carpet lining the living room. Months ago, the edges surrounding the doorframe had finally given way and curled upwards into an unusual arch. Neither Autumn nor Schuldig had ever fixed it. They had never needed to.

Still angrily chastising his negligence towards her feelings, she stumbled into the darkened room and promptly tripped over the rug. It was a small trip, easily manageable. She caught her balance quickly, as though nothing had happened. Without even breaking her stride, she continued even angrier than before.

Now, She thought, besides coping with the massacre of my beloved lilies, I’m going to have to hear his reenactment of my humiliating stumble. Bloody fucking carpet.

She thrust her bag from the doorframe and heard it land somewhere near the couch where she knew he was sitting. Still refusing to glance in Schuldig’s direction, she continued right past into the kitchen.

If she had paused, even for the smallest of moments, she would have noticed the tensed position the man had been in. Instead of the relaxed, sprawled out position Schuldig would have normally assumed, the figure had seemed edgy, almost anxious. Upon the first note of her voice hitting his ears, he had frozen, unable to believe it could really be her.

He’d expected to confront her immediately, expected to embrace her with lips so parched of her taste. However, his broken nerves and uncertainty had forced him to settle in the dark. What could he expect? If he’d changed so much in just four years, who was to say she hadn’t, too? Would she think him hideous? In such a predicament darkness seemed the best solution.

What would he say to her? How would she react? Startlingly, his first impulse was to murder her.

She’d taken his heart and, with that, his reason for living. But, the sound of her voice, no matter how infuriated had drowned his thoughts of homicidal intent.

Two tears trickled down his face, tracking a clean, salty trail over his scarred face. When she’d stumbled, he’d felt her gait falter. His utter fear of her falling, of her hurting herself, caused him to inhale sharply. Now his body shook violently and he quickly forced back the sobs erupting within. In order to control the situation, he dug his nails into the leather couch material. He had to control this.

From the kitchen, Autumn bustled about slamming plates on the counter and muttering to herself. Her eyes fell upon the half cooked Jaeger schnitzel and koogel placed upon the stovetop. A small glob of brown oil slithered down the pan side and plopped to the counter. Disgusted, she poked her fork into the unappetizing meat, watching massive amounts of blood break through the top layer and ooze across its surface.

“Where the fuck is any help when you need it?” she complained, “Frau Sonya was supposed to be here! What do I pay her for if not to cook dinner?”

“I sent her home early,” Floated in a muffled reply.

There, he had spoken. He had said something to her.

Unable to hear clearly due to the fortifying wall and banging cabinet doors, Autumn assumed the context of Schuldig’s reply and finished setting the utensils out.

Bloody bastard, he must be really angry than, She thought as she sighed and threw the pan down onto the counter, We’ll never resolve this if we both hold grudges. I’ll be nice to him then. That’ll work.

If she’d taken the time to examine the adjacent room, Autumn might have approached the couch differently. Sprawled across the dining room floor lay Frau Sonya, three gaping wound streaked across her body. A large maroon stain encircled the maid’s corpse, giving it a reddish halo against the cream carpet. Shock and fear played across the old woman’s face; her final expression, frozen upon her blue lips for eternity.

Unknowing, Autumn entered the room, slinked behind the couch and wrapped her pale arms around his neck. He felt her nestle her head against him, her long curls sliding across his cheek as her breath brushed against his skin. To emphasis her point she ran a long, manicured nail down his collarbone and planted two cherry lips firmly on his jaw line.

Autumn.

Her name practically melted him. He felt himself moan deeply. He remembered this…he remembered this all too well. It took every ounce of concentration to control his emotions. Every hair on his body stood on end as she seductively purred in his ear.

“Schu darling, when are we going to have kids?”

An awkward moment of silence passed, so silent only their breathing filled the dense room.

Ah, Who am I, Autumn? He thought, a small callous smile lighting up his face. Welcome to Realization.

Autumn opened her eyes suddenly, removing her lips from his skin. He felt her body loosen, her hands shaking slightly from confusion. Autumn, he remembered, never trembled, especially not in crucial situations. Such normal, humanistic signs of a docile woman! Had years dulled her skills? He was sure by now she’d recognized his features, his scent, his form.

“You never offered to have children with me,” He muttered, his voice coming out in a hushed, breathy tone.

The Second Stage He thought, Fear.

“What?” she asked, doubts creeping into her mind. Suddenly his body didn’t feel quite the right build; his hair seemed too coarse, his breath too hot; his shoulders too broad. Even though her eyes had adjusted to the darkness long ago, details were still blurred.

The Final Stage, He whispered, his murderous smile still present, Panic.

“No,” Her voice was faint, shaking. “It can’t b--”

He suddenly grasped her arm, jerking her forward with a tug. Flailing manically, she scanned her memory for possible strategies. She had learned this all years ago. She had learned what to do.

Think! She screamed. Think!

Her concentration was cut short by the pain of his jagged nails piercing her skin. Warm, blood trickled down her arm as adrenaline painfully coursed through her body. A single drop of blood hit her white couch.

“That not going to wash out.“ He sneered softly.

Gripping her even harder, he mustered his strength before throwing her head first over the couch. Such magnificent force sent her flying clean over the sofa’s back and down into a glass coffee table. Pain so thick shot through her body as the wood crumbled beneath her weight. She screamed as tiny shards of glass ripped through her back, lacerated her smooth flesh. Seconds after the loud crash, a resounding echo rang throughout the empty house.

The metallic flick of a Zippo sounded. The intoxicating scent of nicotine drifted through the room. As her sobs quieting, Autumn fell forward on her knees and lifted her eyes to the man rising before her. Her heart literally stopped. Illuminated in the dim, flickering light sat a twenty-eight year old man. Scars ran parallel down his cheeks; ugly scars masked what once used to be beauty. He appeared much older than foretold, his skin aged by the sun, thick and leathery. But even mutilation of his body could not hide his vibrant brown eyes. Those eyes had once cherished her. Now, they watched emotionless. They didn’t care.

“Ken?!” she managed to squeak through her shattering voice.

“Hello, Autumn,” He replied calmly, his voice sending chills down her spine. She attempted to regain her footing instead she winced as pressure sent another wave of warm blood flowing from her wounds.

“You’re bleeding, Autumn.” He inhaled a long puff of smoke, allowing it to slowly pour from his cold lips. She refused to answer; all he could hear were her muffled cries.

“Well, at least get off the floor and patch up your arm.” He insisted, motioning to the thick blood dripping from the gash. “You wouldn’t want to stain that expensive carpet”

Taking a last breath of his cigarette, he flung it down and smothered it beneath his boot. Grinds of nicotine sparked, sizzled, then melted into the cushiony material.

“Why don’t you get this over with?” Autumn said suddenly, her voice startling Ken. “I know what you want. So take out the fucking gun and shoot me, you fucking pussy. Do it or leave!”

His reply was a scolding grin.

“I always did love your blatant attitude.” He started. “Autumn, the strong one of the group. Autumn, Always speaking without thinking, always first in danger, always first to attack, always hated by others, always alone…”

In one fluid movement, Ken had a gun pressed to her forehead, his finger touching the trigger. His smile suddenly faltered.

“Now, go on,” He chided, “Say those sappy lines that are coming. How you love me and thought I loved you. How you think I wouldn’t fucking kill you because I love you. Try to weasel your way out of this one, Autumn. I won’t let you betray anyone else. I’m no longer your stupid toy!”

If she replied as he expected her to, he would have planted the bullet firmly into her skull and left. But, that didn’t happen.

Instead of the docile attitude he expected, Autumn narrowed her eyes and challenged him directly. Her green eyes locked intensely onto his, flames of eternal fire roaring behind them.

“Fuck you.”

“What?” His fingers shook slightly but he steadied them. How come she showed no fear? Could she be plotting something? He wouldn’t put it past her. For now, though, he had the upper hand; he intended to keep it.

“You want me to cower?” She started, her voice rising, “To beg? You should know better than to expect that from me, a member of Tö dlichen Kü nste never grovels, especially not to a man.”

“There is no Tö dlichen Kü nste,” he corrected her with a sneer, “You don’t exist.”

“As there is no Wieß ” she replied, “Therefore I have no idea who you are and would be much obliged if you left”

“What?” As a pawn challenges the authority of a King in Chess, so did Autumn to her adversary. “So you won’t even acknowledge me?”

“I once loved a compassionate, caring man,” She moaned, ”But he disappeared three years ago. Seems he never really existed at all, at least according to the government records. Maybe I imagined him…so all those nights spent wrapped in loving arms were all a dream….pity really…and the flowers…he used to bring me tiger lilies…oh I mean not really, but I imagined a guy would…”

“Stop playing head games! You know I’m right here!” He couldn’t let her get to him; he couldn’t give in! Not now!, “You know I brought you those flowers!”

“I believe I named him Ken-kun”

“I’m him” He insisted, pointing childishly at himself. “Stop ignoring me. I’m right here!”

“I see a stranger.” Was the actresses’ reply. “I see a stranger who wants to kill me. My Ken-kun would never do such a thing.”

Such simple words.

Such powerful words.

A few seconds after they sunk in, Ken could find no reason for his secrecy. Why had he snuck into her house like a thief? How could he blame her? She knew nothing of his missions or the utter terror his life had been since his last “mission”. She knew not of the blood spilt or the scheming. No, her heart and conscious seemed clear of all guilt. All guilt belonged upon the shoulders of another. But not hers, never hers. Sighing he allowed his arm to slump loosely at his side. A small red dimple remained upon Autumn’s forehead where the gun barrel had been. Beads of sweat dribbled down the wrinkled impression and continued down her cheek. She let out a sigh.

Yet again, the Academy Awards go to…Autumn thought humorously.

Thrusting the gun back into his pocket, Ken finally made a move. He collapsed onto his knees, arms outstretched as he lifted her battered body to his chest. He practically buckled from the emotional pain. How long had it been since he held her? How long had he waited?

An overpowering smell of cigarettes and sweat encircled her as Ken hugged her to him. For some reason, she relaxed, she allowed herself to fall forward into his embrace. Instead of resisting, she snuggled her head against him, trying to remember his touch, to regain the Ken she’d known. Sweet memories flooded back to her as he curled a strand of red hair around his index finger. His chin rested upon her crown. How many nights had they held each other this way? How many years ago had they slept so close? A sob escaped her lips as Autumn absently ran a hand beneath his shirt. She could feel the scars, hundreds across his stomach

Ken-kun, what happened to you?

“I planned to kill you,” he whispered, his voice shaking, “I was crazy enough to kill you.”

“I know,” she comforted him, her voice gentle and reassuring. Pausing for a few seconds to sort her thoughts she continued, “I know this is not what you want to hear. But why did you do this? You disappear for four years and then expect to just return? Our paths shouldn’t have crossed again. You’ve changed. I’ve changed.”

“You lie”

“I…I do…” she started to speak but he cut her off, pressing his rough lips against her glossy ones. She choked back a sob as he gently touched her face. She could feel his tears against her cheek. That moment stopped her heart.

“Looks like you’ve grown up.” She said quietly as their lips parted. He leaned in a second time, kissing the small curve of her eye.

“Look who’s talking.” He replied gently.

She allowed him to push her back onto the couch, his hand holding her back as he pressed her deep into the fabric. She felt herself give in, to simply open up and take him in. Purring softly she closed her eyes. A gasp escaped Autumn’s lips as he kissed her neck, pulling her closer to his wide chest. She seemed to shiver as an arm gripped her closer.

“Schu” She breathed the name so lightly yet it still rang off the walls.

“What?” Ken suddenly bucked up, his eyes narrowing in anger. She looked him straight in the eyes before her gaze wander slowly past him.

“I’m so sorry,” She whispered.

“Don’t you even know who the hell is fucking you anymore!?” He practically screamed, his eyes burning with disbelief. “I’m so fucking tired of people taking what’s mine. And now you allow him to…”

He angrily forced her head backwards against the couch, “They took my processions, my freedom, my identity, my fucking soul…they took you!”

“Who said she was yours, Hidaka?”

The voice traveled in so silently, so perfectly and calm that Autumn’s body shivered. She could feel the man standing behind her, his lean figure pressed up against the doorway, a cigarette in hand. Maybe, if she tried, she could almost picture the look in his jade eyes, the look of superiority mixed with mild discomfort and annoyance.

“Face it, she’s always like me better.” The man purred. One could almost hear the smile on his face. “You could never handle our connection.”

A cry sounded from Ken’s lips as he retrieved his gun from his pocket and pointed the barrel against Autumn’s temple. A hang clasped over her mouth as she tried to utter a scream. With a few simple words he eased her off the couch, shoving her forward to distance himself from the German. Ken’s eyes locked with the German’s for a split second.

“You really going to shoot her?” Schuldig asked doubtfully, letting out a monotonous sigh, “Then we both lose.”

“I will if you try to stop me”

“Oh?” Schuldig asked, his tone light. He took another small puff from the American cigarette in his hand. “From what?”

“Leaving with her.” Ken grunted, yanking Autumn backwards. She let out a cry as her head rang painfully.

“And?” Schu began taking a few steps forward, “What makes you think she would want to?”

Unconcerned he flicked a piece of lint off his black shirt before blowing a piece of orange hair from his eyes.

“I will give you this much.” He started. “You’re clever, Hidaka. Realizing you couldn’t shoot me and so taking our lovely maiden hostage.” The last few words flowed from his lips, a sarcastic, sugar coated sound that stung Ken’s ears.

Feeling his strong arm around her neck and the cold weapon jolting against her head, Autumn chose to remain silent. Behind her, Ken breathed rapidly, his hoarse breaths hitting her ear; a puff of hot, sticky air every seconds or so. Once someone lost control of a situation there was no telling how irrational their decisions might be.

“Tell her the truth!” Ken blurted out, his body convulsing in anger. “Tell Autumn what you know!”

“What?” Schuldig asked slowly, his eyebrow raising.

“Tell her where I’ve been!”

“How should I know?” Schuldig shrugged his shoulders as a laugh escaped his lips, “In an asylum if you ask me”

“Don’t.” Ken threatened unlocking the safety and jamming his pistol further into Autumn’s blood red curls. “Does The Rebecca Congo Clause 682 ring a bell? Or would a gunshot affirm it?”

Minutes of silence passed between both parties as each tried to come to a beneficial solution. Seeing no alternative, and not wanting to mess with Ken’s unstable mind, Schu sighed and replied,

“Oh, Rebecca took over Kritiker and created her own clause 682. “Schuldig said carefully, his eyes watching the pistol. “ ‘This foundation is no longer in the order of benefiting the masses with little profit and the sacrifice of the privileged. I hereby declare this organization a self-serving boosting structure, set on larger and greater corporations. If anything or anyone is a liability to the forward adjustment of my revenue they shall be stopped by whatever means necessary; including extermination.’”

“Weiss worked for the people!” Ken cried, tears billowing from his eyes. “Not Rebecca Incorporated! So tell her what you did to us! Tell her why I had to leave!”

“Schuldig?” Autumn finally spoke up, trying to comprehend. Too many shocking ideas struck her at once. Her stomach started to cramp. Nausea swarmed around her stomach.

“Exactly what the clause said to do“ Schuldig replied, the hint of worry blooming in his voice. “Rebecca dismantled the three assassin groups.”

“And the deal?” Ken screamed. “Tell her what your reward was!”

“What deal?” Schuldig asked innocently, “All I know is the clause and the burden of these secret justice leagues.”

“You know, you send Weiß to their doom and you get this” Ken squeezed Autumn’s arm until she screamed in pain, “Schwarz get their dreams fulfilled, Weiß is destroyed and TK disbanded. No more assassin groups, no more heartache, everyone is happy. Right?” His voice rang off the walls, shocking Autumn with the emotions pouring from him. “WRONG!”

“Three and a half years in that fucking country.” Ken shook with anger, pressing the gun barrel closer to Autumn’s head. “Over a hundred degrees every night, fighting for survival, tortured for months, never knowing when we would die! Is that happy?”

“I don’t understand” Autumn, like a child, felt uncertainty take hold of her movements. She could scarcely hold herself up anymore.

“Do you know what it is like to watch your friend die?” Ken’s voice lowered, his body shaking with dread. An unceasing flow of tears streamed down his face, “To see his lifeless body hanging from a tree, guts and entrails hanging down like party streamers!”

He sucked in a breath, head shaking as his eyes burned holes into Schuldig.

“Poor Ran…”

“Aya?!” Autumn screamed, shaking her head, “No, he can’t be dead! Ken why are you saying these things?!”

Schuldig screamed at Ken to stop but his words simply dissipated into the air. Ken was looking down at Autumn now, his eyes hallow and red.

“I saw Omi die, Autumn.” He said, his voice no higher then a whisper. “I watched him die. I had to watch him be ripped limb by limb in a feeding frenzy of sharks. They cut his arms and legs just enough to drawl blood, tied him up then threw him in. I had to watch him!” He suddenly screamed, his hand lashing out and catching Autumn in the side of the face.

“I fucking watched my best friend die, you fucking bitch!” There was a murderous glow to his eyes. Then, as Autumn recoiled from the attack, she realized that Ken had died along with Omi. There was no more of the man she knew. The man sobbing before her was not who she knew four years ago. This was a shell, this was a body filled with anger. Nothing more.

“We never knew the extent of your disappearance,” Schuldig smoothly tried to talk his way out of the situation, a smile on his face. “We thought you went on vacation.”

Ken’s entire body froze. His breath lengthened out into tight shivers, his eyes dilated, his entire body quivered with such rage and resentment.

“Two brave men died,” He spoke in disbelief, “And you’re joking about it?”

Ken shook his head, his body shaking violently. On the floor Autumn couldn’t move, her entire body rejecting the information. Memories of her past life overpowered her. For four years she’d felt content, never once remembering the tedious missions, deadly wounds and broken hearts. But now she confronted everything she’d strived to forget. The nausea finally hit her and, with a hard jolt, she threw up against the floor. Chocking on her words she staggered to her feet and felt Ken’s grip tighten around her neck once again.

“Alright, you win,” Schuldig held up his arms, “Once again I am the bad guy, forced to lose. Yes, Schwarz made an agreement with Rebecca, and yes we knew you were to be obliterated in a brutal fashion…but let me ask you; if you were me wouldn’t you do the same?”

“I’m about to,” Ken replied smirking and slowly backing out of the elegant room. “I want her. I’m leaving with her. If you stop me, I will kill her. You understand?”

As his foot hit the edge of the room, his heel caught the edge of the ripped carpet.

They had never fixed it. They had never needed to.

For a second he just stood there, his entire body fighting against the pull of gravity as he slowly lost his balance. His eyes widened; His body wavered. There was a small gasp from Ken’s lips as his arms flailing back in a desperate attempt to recover his footing. Instead, he started to fall backwards.

Everything happened slowly as do most tragic endings. Schuldig had seen moments like this. When time seemed stopped and senses dulled. He remembered the sound of the gunshot, the sound of Ken crying out. Yet, through it all, his eyes never left Autumn’s. She never showed pain, never faltered, never cried out as she started to fall towards the ground. She almost seemed to comfort him as her eyes closed; she seemed to hug him as her body hit the ground. Yes, Schuldig had seen moments like this. Yes, time had stood still those moments before. Yet, never in his life had he ever felt his heart go out, never had he died along with the murdered. He didn’t move when the shot echoed throughout the house. There was no way that he could. He simply stood there, head tilted ever so slightly to the side, the brightness of his eyes dying second by second. He had never cried in his entire life yet, as her body lay silent, the Hidaka boy crouching over her, his entire body broke down.

White.

All Ken could see for a few seconds was how white everything was. As crisp as a new sheet of paper, as pure as snow. Shallow rapid breaths escaped her body, a last desperate attempt to keep oxygen flowing to her major organs. He cradled her mutilated face, fighting back bouts of nausea. Splattered across the wall, a sprinkling of blood contrasted with the cream paint.

I love you both…

Schuldig’s body started to quake, his breath pulsing out un erratically.

Autumn?! He looked down. Is that you, baby?

Do not blame yourselves...it is not your fault…feel no guilt because I forgive you…Ken…Schuldig…

Mindless rambling. The effects of a dying mind. Just mindless rambling. Just as quickly as Schuldig had heard her, her thoughts blurred from view. As if the line between them had been cut, he only heard silence and a slight ring in his head.

“ No” He whispered taking a few steps toward her motionless corpse. “Autumn…Baby, wake up.“

At the same moment Ken caught sight of his approach and quickly whirled the gun upon his foe.

“What did you do!?” Schuldig asked, his eyes finally bursting forth. “What the fuck did you do?!”

Schuldig had simply raised his fist in anger. He had no clue what he was going to do with it. He thought that maybe he could hit the murderer in front of him, that maybe he would keep hitting him until the pain stopped.

This pain…

There was nothing like it. Schuldig had never felt this. It was as thought there was no hope anymore. No hope. Nothing. He had nothing to look forward to, no use for life. Nothing could make this go away. No amount of drinking could fix this, no amount of drugs or sex would heal him either. He had lost it; everything was gone. What good would it do to kill the boy in front of him? This pain hurt too much that revenge was a sick powerless joke. Only then did Schuldig lower his arm, only then did he finally give up.

Life had never been so easily attainable, so easily realistic then it has at that very second.

He remembered her thinking that. He was in the car on his way home. He had heard her. Why didn’t he hurry home? Why didn’t he hurry--

Schuldig figure out what was going to happen. He didn’t even try to dodge the first bullet; instead he watched it pierce his shoulder. He watched the blood flood down his coat.

Do not blame yourselves…

The second hit him square in the chest. Still he moved forward, the outline of Autumn‘s body the only thing he could see through his tears.

It is not your fault…Schuldig…

The third bullet didn’t even hurt. It felt like a push really, a gentle, playful little push.

Was he shot a forth time? He never remembered…

We’ll be together forever…if the deal goes through we can live in luxury

He had started to fall forward.

He touched her blood red hair as his knees buckled.

He pressed a cheek to hers, her skin still warm.

He kissed her as blood dripped from his lips.

He never took his eyes off of her.

He let go.

Black.