Title: Taking Control
Author/Artist: ZiaLiaLis
Rating: T
Warnings: Explosions, OOC Kyoko, deaths
Prompt: III - 17. Kyoko - Haru is killed by a rival family, Kyouko doesn't take it lying down; "Fly away / Take control / Beyond the edge will make you whole"
Word count: 1500+
Summary: Nobody kills her best friend and gets away unscathed. Nobody.

...

She stood there, face in mourning.

She stood there, tears streaking rapidly.

She stood there, black dress neat.

She stood there, Flowers in her hand.

…

A sob wracked through Kyoko once again, fresh tears threatening to pour out her swollen eyes. She made no motion to wipe them, only to stare at the seemingly sleeping girl in the coffin. The girl looked peaceful, lips upturned in a slight smile, eyes closed in bliss. Her hands folded neatly on her, hair framing her face gently. Her face caked in make up to hide the stiff coldness underneath. She wore a white dress, a simple summer one, the one Kyoko knew she liked most.

Kyoko staggered up to the coffin, aware of someone supporting her but unsure of whom it was. The tears were out now, but there were no sobs to accompany it. It was a silent crying, the one where only tears fell and nothing else was out of place. She reached out and touched the girl's face and with a sorrowful voice, she uttered just loud enough for the people closest to hear, "Goodbye, Haru."

Then in a much softer voice, so soft Kyoko herself wasn't sure she heard it, she whispered into the wind, "I will avenge you."

…

Kyoko stayed locked up in her room, not allowing anyone to enter with threats of suicide. What had gotten into her, she did not know. What she knew though, was that her best friend was dead. The friend who had supported her through thick and thin, the one whom she felt comfortable talking to anything about, was was a tough blow, as she was the only true female friend she had in the world of Mafioso. And she was taken down by a weak but lucky –not so lucky now, she reminded herself – mafia famiglia.

With only one shot, sent straight to the heart, she was down.

"How ironic. Haru's weapon of choice brought her down," Kyoko thought bitterly, a strange aftertaste in her tongue.

It was bitter, like coffee yet it crackled in her mouth, like pop rocks.

Bitter pop rocks. A rueful smiled adorned her lips as a conversation long forgotten brought itself back into her mind.

She bit her tongue, hard enough to draw out the sweet metallic taste of blood.

"Soon," she thought, "soon I will have my revenge."

With a cackle, she brought the bottle of alcohol back to her lips, only to find it empty. Frustrated, she threw the bottle against the wall. It shattered into pieces, some small; some large and she watched in twisted fascination as it rained down on the floor.

A muffled question sounded through the door.

She stayed silent, only surveying her surroundings littered by more broken glass and empty bottles.

She grabbed a brand new bottle from beside her – it was her last one.

With much effort, she brought herself up, occasionally taking unsteady swigs from the bottle in her hands.

Stumbling over to her closet, not minding the cuts she received from the glass shards, she took out her duffel bag filled with weapons she never thought she'd ever use.

Pouring out the contents, she shoved the ones she knew she would need back in.

A few guns, some ammo… A pair of boxing gloves, butterfly knives, Swiss army knives, daggers, some tranquiliser darts…

Throughout the years of having been in the mafia, Kyoko had learned to defend herself through various means. From martial arts to sniping, she could do enough just to protect herself and the ones she love. Never once though did she have to use her skills. Today, without practice on the field even once, she would take it to a whole new level.

She walked clumsily back to her closet, this time aware of the shards of sharp glass. She spotted a packet of cigarettes and more dynamite sticks than she probably needed shoved to the very back and a faint memory of her confiscating them from Gokudera was brought to light. Making a mental note to bring them along, she changed into black tights and shirt. Her long orange hair was tied up and stuffed into a black beanie, and her dainty feet shoved into black sneakers. Grabbing the cigarettes and explosives, she stuffed them into her duffel bag and began her great escape.

She paused at the window, and turned back to write a note just in case they found out about her disappearance. Also in case she ever got caught by the enemy.

You know where I have gone with these weapons.

She scribbled those words on the wall with a red marker, not caring about vandalism anymore. As she placed the marker back, she grabbed a pair of blades and slipped them into the sleeves of her shirt. You can never be too careful.

With that, she stood at the window sill, determining that the bushes will break her fall from the second story.

If she had been fully sober, it would have been daunting but with her mind fuzzed by the europium of alcohol, she jumped without a moment's hesitation after her duffel bag. A giggle escaped her lips as she landed haphazardly into the bushes, the pain messing with her mind.

Drunkenly, she stood up and went out into the cold night, her dark clothes blending her right in.

I'm flying away.

…

She sat in a tree outside the warehouse, chewing on a beef jerky that she had bought on the way. The world was spinning around her yet she didn't care. Her mind ran through the plan she had formulated on the way and a giggle escaped her lips as she aimed her tranquiliser gun, a silencer on its barrel. She fired two quick shots and with only a soft cry from the guards, they were down and out.

Literally slipping down the tree, she marched into the warehouse through a backdoor she had scouted out previously.

She walked in not quite stealthily, yet enough not to be detected.

Pulling herself onto the boxes, she watched in wonder as she saw the many mafia men do what Mafioso do. Crouching in the darkness, hidden from view it made her feel powerful, knowing that she could kill them without them seeing her.

The warehouse was dark, only dimply lighted by a few lights hanging suspended from the worn down roof. Crates were stacked up all the way up, some having the explosive, flammable or fragile signs stickered onto them. The boxes reached until the ceiling, and there were more than enough spots hidden enough not to be seen by the partying men. No doubt partying about Haru's death. She felt her fists clench tightly, knuckles turning a creamy white.

She stood up unsteadily from her hiding place, before placing two dynamite sticks and lighting up a cigarette.

She perched the cancer stick on the electrical cable connected to the blasting cap, calculating how long it would take the cigarette to burn before lighting up the cable and blowing up.

Satisfied, she climbed onto a crate very near to the roof; with space just enough for her to crawl. She manoeuvred her way to the other end of the warehouse carefully, making sure her shadows did not fall into the men's view.

A few twists and drops later, she had another pair of dynamites set up.

And another, and another, until there were eight time bombs ticking away without any guarantee of when it would blow up. Perhaps now, perhaps seconds, maybe never. But one explosion would be enough.

She went through the warehouse again, this time dashing as close as possible to the men. Dropping the sticks randomly, each already lighted up.

Finally, she made her way back to the backdoor and with a wicked laugh, threw the rest of the sticks she had in the direction of the men.

They would never know what landed near them.

I'm taking control.

…

The explosion tore apart the warehouse, scattering flames and debris all over. She didn't get away from the explosion; she merely stood there and let herself be flung. Flying through the air gracefully, she laughed manically.

Red filled her vision and her ears went with a pop, she was blinded by the red, yet she didn't close her eyes. Her skin stung, and her face hurt. She could smell the burnt fell and the singed clothes. She landed awkwardly on her back, and she heard a loud audible snap. Her vision swirled rapidly, everything either black red or orange, with the occasional yellow. Her face felt wet, and she couldn't hear anything; everything was silent.

Yet she could still feel her chest having up and down in a laugh.

Stopping, she gasped for breath and coughed, choking on the soot and ash dancing around in the wind.

Her vision cleared and what she saw was the most beautiful yet terrifying thing in her life.

The warehouse was nothing anymore. It was merely a building that had been there, before being eaten up by the hungry flames.

The flames, they danced, begging for more food, begging for more.

They ate, they spread. They were coming towards her.

They looked at her with lust and greed, literally burning red with passion.

And with a gentle smile, she thought, "I'll be joining you soon Haru."

Beyond here will make me whole.

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