Chapter 1: Devils and Gods

Demons, thieves, petty crooks, all these names Liz and Patty, the Devils of Brooklyn, where called by others. Liz didn't call herself these. She called her and her little sister survivors. She stole, mugged, cheated, and killed… anything for her and Patty to stay alive. The first few weeks out on the streets, they had almost frozen to death, hungry, weak, and not enough money to buy a shirt sleeve big enough for Patty. Liz had flat out refused to be like her mother, a slave to men and their money; she wouldn't, she couldn't do that to Patty. What truly made her stick up the hardship and the hunger wasn't her pride, or stubbornness, it was Patty. Anything for her little sister, always laughing no matter what. The little sister that gave her the will to survive. The little sister she would give anything for. When they first found out they had weapon blood, it was like a whole new door opened. Liz didn't need to sell drugs, or risk her life getting them. No more waiting for hours just for the right moment to grab the loaf of bread without getting caught. They had a weapon, a strength now, and they used it. It was so much less of a hassle to mug people with Patty in gun form in their face, rather than trying to get close enough with a knife (and that was hard in her neighborhood), and so much easier to point a gun at the clerk's face and race off with bags of food instead of one tiny loaf that no one would notice. Life had taken an immediate turn for the better that day, and today was no less different, leaning on the street corner with a cigarette in her hand, for she had a little extra money from last time. She watched Patty as she sat on the sidewalk, making shadow puppets on the pavement and humming a happy tune. Patty, who could stay strong, laugh in the face of anything, who stayed by her sister all this time. Liz felt warmth and love for her little sister rise up in her, but it cut off abruptly, replaced by a hungry look, Patty getting the same one. A kid, no more than 16, maybe 15, was strolling down the sidewalk across from her, and by the looks of him, he was up to his little neck in money. She took another drag, before grinning at Patty and raising her hand to catch her in demon gun form, carefully holding her where she wouldn't be visible until she was against the brat's head. She put the cigarette in her mouth and made a move to cross the street, but to her surprise, she found the brat was already across, and ten feet in front of her, walking slowly, dragging his feet. "Weird, I didn't see him cross…" She quickly pushed the thought out of her head. All the more convenient, she told herself and she began to follow him. It wasn't that hard to catch up with him, he was going at the speed of a damn tortoise, and she barely had to take a few quick strides before Patty was up against his head, her laughter only audible to Liz.

"Don't move." She said in the threatening growl she had practiced for occasions like these. Normally, kids his age would crap themselves, but he hardly reacted, instead moving to turn around.

"You want your head blown off?"

She snarled, pressing Patty harder against his head, irritated that he didn't seem fazed.

"My apologies, I just prefer to see the faces of those pressing weapons against my head."

Wait. Faces?! Did this kid know about Patty? Gritting her teeth harder on her cigarette, she cleared her head, Relax, there's no way he could know about her. Probably just his way of talking. She smirked, giving a throaty chuckle,

"You got a lot of nerve, for some kid who's gonna' get his head blown off at a false move."

"I take that as a complement." He said smoothly.

Liz growled inwardly. His voice wasn't like rich, spoiled boys were supposed to sound, it was smooth, slightly deep, and held something that a kid at his age shouldn't have. Maturity? Wisdom? She couldn't pin it down; the words just escaped her reach. That made her even more annoyed; she didn't like it when things escaped her. She shoved her gun into his head, directing him into the alley,

"I don't care what you take it as, brat; you're doing as you're ordered." To her chagrin, she swore she heard a small chuckle,

"You finding this funny punk?"

"Of course not. I am doing as I'm told."

He muttered quietly as he went into the alley as she directed. The gun gleamed and Patty flashed into view, grinning insanely,

"Hey sis, he's not scared of you."

"Oh he's terrified, trust me." She thought back, although more to herself than Patty. Indeed, he didn't seem very scared as she directed him into the alley, pressing him into a wall.

"Turn around, and shovel your cash right here." She snarled, holding out her left hand, "Do it, unless you want your head blown off."

She prodded his back with the gun. The brat heaved a sigh, as if she had just forced him to clean his room (which he's probably never done in his life, she thought), turned around, and she nearly gasped in surprise. The first things she saw were his eyes. They were golden, no, not even. They were two colored, the outer rim being a bright yellow, the same color of the sunflower petals at that florist's shop down the street. The inner rim outside of his pupil was the color of the caramel at the candy shop. That can't be natural, she thought. Was there some kind of rich thing where you could change your eyes to that? She highly doubted it, and even if they could, no one could (or would) possibly make their eyes a shade of yellow those colors. Tearing her eyes away from his, his hair was the next thing that struck her. It was almost completely jet-black, save for three white stripes going horizontally across the right side of his hair, stopping right in the middle. You couldn't dye hair like that. It wasn't possible, and even if it was, these where equally spaced, stopped right in the middle, and never shifted, like normal hair did. The last thing she noticed about him was how pale he was. It was not 'haven't got enough sun' pale, or even natural pale. His skin was a sickly, almost snow pale, border lining grey. It was almost ghostly, (Liz felt a shiver down her spine) otherworldly. Out of place, especially in a city like Brooklyn. What snapped her out of her stupor was the sound of Patty laughing her head off, and she realized her jaw had fell open slightly, and she was gawking like an idiot. The punk himself was smirking, hardly visible, but she saw his mouth curve ever so slightly upward, however he pushed it a bit further, raising a finger to her lower jaw, and, to her embarrassment and discomfort, snapped it shut for her. The nerve of the brat! Without even thinking, she raised Patty behind her shoulder to strike him as hard as she could.

"I really wouldn't recommend-"

Satisfaction coursed through her as she struck him. Wouldn't recommend that would he? He was a rich brat after all! Her satisfaction however, died as quickly as it had come, replaced by utter shock. He hadn't even flinched, not even a change in facial expression. She saw the spot on his cheek where a large bruise was forming, black and blue discoloring that ghostly white face, and a bit of pleasure came back at that. Smirking, she shoved the gun at his chest and growled mockingly,

"Didn't your mommy ever teach you to keep your hands to yourself?"

Probably taught him nothing that that, she thought, but she thought she saw something flicker, not even for a second, behind those emotionless yellow eyes. Regret? It couldn't be.

"Now fork over the money before-"

She stopped in midsentence, surprise clogging her throat and head, forcing her eyes wide open, her jaw dropping, and the cigarette falling from her mouth. The bruise on his cheek was receding. Little by little, red replaced the black and blue, as a cup of water spilling over a flat surface, and when the red had taken over, even that began to disappear, the ghostly white replacing the red as it had replaced the bruise, as if nothing at all happened. Not even a slight swollen cheek. She might as well have never hit him. Her hand holding the gun began to shake badly, and she was sure her eyes were taking up the majority of her face. Even Patty was silent, staring intently where the bruise should have been.

"H-hey..." She stammered, forcing words out of her throat, voice trembling, "Who… WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU?!"

She yelled, backing up, stilling pointing the gun straight at his chest with both hands now, to keep them from shaking. The boy looked guilty, as if he had just revealed a dreadful secret (which, as far as Liz was concerned, was exactly the case),

"Just, wait, please don't be alarmed." He was talking gently, as if with a wild animal, "If you just listen, I can explain, I don't want to hurt you two-"

"LIAR!" Liz screeched.

Yellow-Eyes looked surprised, or maybe a bit confused, "Huh?"

"What are you, a monster?! A ghost?!"

Liz trembled at the thought, a few wild thought racing through her head like Get a hold of yourself, he's not anything like that, you're not scared of him, but her panic was overwhelming her, especially at 'you two'. He knew about Patty! Yellow-Eyes merely raised an eyebrow.

"I assure you, I am neither of those, if you'd just let me explain-"

"GET AWAY!"

With that, she shot him. Multiple times, and in the chest. And he barely winced. He grimaced a little, but that was it. Liz couldn't take anymore at that. He was immune to her wavelengths. He healed almost immediately. She screamed at the top of her lungs. He was definitely some kind of monster, trying to take Patty away. She wouldn't let that happen, she couldn't. She ran away at full speed, holding Patty as tightly as she could and ignoring that thing's calls that he could explain. He was lying, it was the only explanation.

/\(/*\)/\

"DAMN IT!"

Kid yelled as soon as they vanished. Why did he have to do that? He cursed his obsession with orderliness and preciseness. He just couldn't stand that look of utter surprise on the girl's face. He had to fix it, to that firm, symmetrical look, even if it was of malice. Damn it, damn it, damn it! It'd take him weeks to find them again; it took him two months alone to track those too on Father's orders. He couldn't go after them on Beelzebub, not in the state that girl was in. She had been so frightened of his Reaper Healing, yet somehow had the guts to do all those things for her sister. Probably thought I was after Patty, it was a reasonable explanation. Sighing, he summoned Beelzebub and stepped on. A thought made the wheels turn to rockets, another made it boost, hovering up into the air. Well, at least he could track their soul wavelengths. Now that he had been that close, he could probably pinpoint them relatively easily, however, getting close enough to talk to them was a problem. Considering he stuck out in a crowd like a sore thumb, plus the chances of them trying to mug him again where minimal, this encounter wasn't really that much of a plus, aside from he knew what the demon guns looked like. Gorgeous, in every way imaginable, and if it was true what the rumors said, and they were really twin demon guns, then he'd have his ideal partners right there. The problem was now, convincing them. Ah well, I'm sure if I can talk sense into them next time, they'll be fine. Perhaps some food, or shelter, to convince them he meant well. Sighing, he flew over Brooklyn. Indeed, their souls where fairly easy to track, he could pick them out now, even though he made no effort to head for them. Maybe when they'd calmed down a bit, he would come back for him. Well, Kishin eggs don't hunt themselves, he thought as he stopped the board, hovering right over the red soul, which stood out easily. So much easier with a weapon though, as he urged Beelzebub downward to collect the egg.

/\(/*\)/\

Liz was running. Patty gripped in her hand, she stole a glance behind her, only to be shot at from the side. Damn, she quickly ducked into an alley between two warehouses. Only a few days after escaping that monster thing, she had received an invitation to join a local gang. Of course, she had refused, she couldn't trust anyone, much less the criminal organization, and that didn't make them very happy. In fact, quite the opposite, she had barely escaped with her life. A week later, they had caught up, and they had brought reinforcements. Panting, she bolted into a warehouse, hiding behind the wall and hearing the gunmen running past. They were safe.

"Got you."

Liz felt a sharp intake of breath drawn into her throat as rifle-wielding men emerged from everywhere, forming a semicircle around her and Patty, leaving no escape options. She felt herself beginning to shake. They were going to die. There were no escape options, and even if she were to throw Patty over them, Patty would hardly reach two steps before they shot her down. No, she wouldn't do that. A glance from Patty's reflection told her Patty was thinking the same thing. Gritting her teeth, she raised her little sister.

"Going to fight us babe?"

A mocking voice sneered. Liz gritted her teeth. She'd teach him to call her 'babe'. She'd take as many out as many as possible before she died. She'd show them that the Devils of Brooklyn didn't go without a fight. She'd-

"DEATH GOD MARTIAL ART- STANCE OF CRIME."

A yell rang out, echoing throughout the warehouse. Why did that voice sound familiar… One of the thugs turned around, growling out in a gruff voice,

"What the-"

What happened next, neither Liz nor Patty could remember clearly, or even begin to describe, it happened so quickly. All she could really place where a few yells, and some gunshots and a cry of alarm, and next thing she knew the thugs where all stacked up, every single one in a neat stack, and standing on top of that stack, a smug look in those yellow eyes, was-

"YOU?!"