Um... Hey. Scarlet here.
I'm sorry to all those who are expecting updates on any of my stories, but I'm on a slight hiatus. D: Yes, I'm such an idiot. 'Why's she writing if she can never finish a story?' Well, too bad, I'm gonna keep writing, even if I never finish. (:
So, yeah, my first D N Angel story. Because I've been reading the manga and just finished watching the anime. Heheheh. No other explanations, really.
Summary: The greatest thief, The Phantom Thief, Dark, has been captured at long last. His way out of jail? Comfort a mental, derranged freak who's been neglected for years. Tough times and romance twirled with the longing of his little brother - Dark's in for a long three weeks.
prologue . warnings before the storm
He smirked as he watched them surround the great, gleaming crown, adorn with dazzling gems and stones of much desired value from above. They formed a complete circle of defense around the pillar of glass, which held his target. They all looked nervous, each and every one of them, but embedded in the haze of worry, there swam excitement. These people were jazzed and focus, but he shook his head at their overprotection.
"Hmph. They try too hard," he sighed. "But oh well. Looks like I have to deal with it." And, he flicked a hidden switch, and the lights immediately blacked out.
Shouts clogged the pitch black museum hall, mingling with the stuffy darkness of the open space. He smirked, yet again. What fun it was to toy with these fools!
He swooped down, kicking a few policemen down to the ground in the process, and landed daintily on his feet, directly in front of the crown. Though he could not see it, he could feel the smooth surface of its case. He quickly flipped open a hidden case on the glass-and-steel cage that held the crown, and a faintly-lit number pad appeared. He cupped the pad so the light wouldn't attract the policemen's attention (who were still shouting and scurring about in the dark, running into their comrades, by the way). Taking a lucky guess, he typed a code and an invisible barrier was disabled, also opening the case with a swift snap. Blind but elated, he reached in for his prize, but he was a little too late. With a click, the lights flickered back on, and he was surrounded by a sea of policemen, all who seemed disoriented by the sudden light, but would recover quick enough.
"Oh shi-" he started, but then a rough hand slapped over his lips and dragged him away from the crown. He kicked, he thrashed, and he did whatever manuever that he had learned that came to mind, but when his current captor went down, another replaced him. The relentless army was back on track as their pupils adjusted, and there were more than enough people wanting to share the glory of catching the Phantom Thief.
"No!" he yelled, but he knew the battle was over. He continued to struggle violently, but all was a wasted effort. Eventually he tired, as he was led by the police to a waiting van, ready to take him away.
The Phantom Thief, Dark Mousy, was finally captured.
---
"You want to get out?"
"This place is a friggin' hellhole. You think I want to stay here?"
A smile in the gloom.
"I'll tell you what. I'll make you a deal. You help me, and I help you."
"...You help me?"
"Yes. I help you get out of this place, and your name will be cleared. But there's a condition."
"A... Condition?"
"Yes. Favors must be returned, aye?"
"..."
"Heh. Well. You need to help me with this mental patient..."
"...And?"
Another smile.
"He's completely insane. Angry and all, you know? Very violent. See? Gave me a few rather painful scars."
She showed him a cluster of long slashes down her right arm, as though he had clawed at her. He furrowed his eyebrows.
"...Why are you telling me this?"
"Because, he's your ticket out. You get him to be sane in three weeks' worth of time, you get a one-way ticket out of here."
Dark looked at her like she was diseased. She merely smiled.
"Are you up to it?" she asked softly, though her smile had by no means ceased to exist.
"Why should I, the great Phantom Thief Dark Mousy, help some insane, psychotic mental patient?" Dark said haughtily, crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes darted away from her rough beauty; her clean, smooth face which bore not even a smudge of make-up, and her strange way of sounding like a rough boy, though she was indeed a girl. And a young one at that.
So, she was pretty. Naturally pretty. But that didn't mean that Dark Mousy was to be a helping a mental patient for the next three weeks of his life!
"You'll be here for the rest of your life then," she sighed, and shrugged, as though she could care less. Dark gulped nervously, which was very un-Dark-like. The girl noticed, and she discreetly smiled.
"Look, it's all very, very simple. You do one task for the community, promise to stop your thieving ways, and boom, you're out. But you don't have to do it if you want to; I mean, rotting away in this trashdump is a nice way to live, so..." her voice trailed off in a very sad way, as though she worried about his future. But then again, what could this young little teen do to get Dark out? After all, he was considered a criminal mastermind and had stolen a great archive of items, all of them famous and greatly valued -
"My daddy is the jail owner," she said, reading his mind. Dark gulped once more. "So, are you willing to do this or not? This is a one-time offer. By the time you run back to me, begging for the job, I'll have already had taken care of it."
The voice was so carefully attached with just the right emotions; a pinch of slightly carelessness, a hint of exaperation and slight shrewdness, and just a touch of sadness. Dark found it hard to disagree.
Hey, this girl had a dad who owned a jail. Probably several others, too. She'd probably developed one of the best lying skills around, flattery coming in a close second.
Dark sighed.
But he obliged.
--
The darkness seemed to press in on him. He gasped out, and a strangled voice filtered into the air. The voice blended into the still black void, becoming one with the dark. The voice simply melted away, the spirit with it. His voice. His own voice.
He could simply get up and walk over to the Slit. The Slit was just that - a sliver of light at feet level; the only indication that there was ever a door there. But it did not look like a door. In fact, there was really no seemingly noticable door; just the Slit that indicated, yes, other people could enter or leave as they wished. But that was other people. Sane people.
He even understood why he wasn't allowed out. Because he was insane. Not sane. Insane. Insane people were given bounderies, and each boundery was nothing more than a simple, enclosed white room, containing a single light and a single bed. A cage of blinding white that kept the insane people in, the sane people out.
If he kept the light on, he'd see what a small cage he was confined to, and that meant he was insane. He didn't like being insane. That's why he kept the light off.
But even though this was his little insane room, keeping this insane man away from the sane, the sane seemed to have recently found interest in him, even though he had been there for a few years already. Now, sane people of all colors, sizes, women and men alike, came and went on a frequent basis. They were killing the thick shell that kept the insane in, and the sane out.
Somehow, he didn't like. He didn't, even though he longed to be treated like a sane person.
And that's when he started to act violent.
"No!" he would scream and yell, as they pushed open the heavy door, eliminating the Slit. Now it was a Gap. It was the second time the Slit had ever been opened in the time that he was sent here. His food was always a small, nutrient-packed bundle that was sent through the Flap, the Slit's companion that hovered higher up on the door. It was such a strange phenomenom to see sane people trying to enter his room, enter his kingdom without a word of warning. Though it was naught but a cage, it was his cage, and his only. And to see sane people actually killing the Slit just to enter, well, that was a bit disconcerting.
And then, a third, fourth, and a fifth intrusions. The sane always came in, trying to reassure him that all was well. And a friendly female sane who tried to speak to him on almost a daily basis. But he refused to share his kingdom with the sane, who had locked him up for so long. He kicked, punched, and even clawed at the sane, until he had peace.
But it was only temporary.
On the umpteenth time the Slit was slowly but surely murdered, a very pretty yet young female sane entered the room. He had seen her so many times now that he was now used to her appearance, but he still growled at her presence. She was his most frequent visitor, and he didn't like her.
"Hello, Krad," she said softly.
"Hello... female sane," he hissed, standing up, but still crouched over. The light that filtered in behind her was bright and hurt his poor, weakened eyes.
The female sane crossed her arms, dissatisfied.
"For the last time, my name is not 'female sane,' it's Riku," she said reprovingly. Krad snorted, showing his back to her.
"You act like a real man," she sighed, shrugging. "Oh well. But I have something to tell you..."
Krad made no urge to respond to this annoyance of a female sane.
"...Um... Okay, ignore me. Later, a man named Dark will be taking care of you for three straight weeks. He's going to -"
"WHAT?" Krad hissed, breaking her sentence off. He spun to glare vemonously at her. Once he caught her eye, he flounced up, stalked forward, and grabbed her shirt by the neck. "I'll tell you something, Riku," he growled, "after being ignored for years after my own father placed me in this nuthouse, and then all of a sudden the sane people who own this place get interested in me is rather disturbing. Even after I was just getting used to being confined alone, day and night, with only my thoughts brewing, not even able to see my own brother... Who believes they can just rightfully claim me again?"
"Whoever said about you being claimed?" Riku said mildly, looking as though this odd behavior was nothing new to her. It probably was, if being clawed on the arms was natural. "If you simply listen to this newcomer, and if he actually talks some sense into you, you're free! Out! Gone! Whoosh, just like that!"
Krad fell silent, though did not let go.
"How do you know?" he hissed after a short pool of silence. "I've been here for four years... Who actually wants me out again?"
"Your brother," Riku said quietly. Krad sobered and let her drop back down to the ground. She very casually rubbed her neck where the fabric had held her, burning into her skin and wrangling her breath.
"My...brother...?" Krad said slowly, as though saying it were painful. "He... wants me... back...?"
"Well, yeah. He is your brother, afterall."
"..."
"...Whatever. If you don't want this man to come in and see you, it's just too bad, because that's all he can do for now. So, seeya!" she said cheerfully, and swiftly strode out of the room. The door closed behind her, and the Slit was back in place again. A locked clicking into place followed the silence, and then Krad was nothing more than a rotting insane in the dark again.
Enjoy my weirdness?
Thought not. But too bad, 'cause you're in for more!
Review, please. :D
-Scarlet