A/N: I have just a few quick and simple things to say before you may continue reading, so please don't skip over them.

1) NOTHING in this FanFic is written with the intention of romance. All love portrayed is friendship-ly and familial.

2) This FanFic (and the other in its compilation) are written based off of the manga, though anime knowledge should be sufficiant for the vast majority. I will put a warning at the beginning of any chapter that contains any manga spoilers.

3) For more info. on this FanFic or the others in its compilation, please see my profile and/or PM me with any questions.

Meister: Death The Kid

Weapon(s): Elizabeth Thompson and Patricia Thompson

Weapon Type(s): Demon Pistols

Resonance Form(s): Black Needle Guns

Special Meister Ability: Grim Reaper and Death God

Let's go!:"Resonance rate stable, noise at 0.3%...feedback in 5 seconds…

Four…Three…Two…One.

Ready to fire!"

Are you ready?

"Death Cannon!"

Death The Kid #1: The Brooklyn Devils

Throw it away

Forget yesterday

We'll make the great escape

We won't hear a word they say

They don't know us anyway

Watch it burn

Let it die

'Cause we are finally free tonight

~The Great Escape; Boys Like Girls

Elizabeth and Patricia Thompson had thought it would be one of those easy-muggings. You know: —

(one of those hit-and-run, no-law-enforcement, make-money-quick types that goes so smoothly we end up with a pocket stuffed with cash without cops on our tail.)

—the type where you count the money and you realize you've got enough for dinner for a whole week.

Or maybe you don't know—

(most people don't. We're so alone, alone… Alone doesn't begin to describe it…)

—how it feels to live that solitary life on the streets, fighting for your life every day.

Liz had taken a few shots of… well…—

(something good, something that makes me feel better than these pathetic, rich-and-"mighty" creeps. Something that makes all the shooting, killing, terrorizing, threatening seem not-so-bad.)

—she wasn't exactly sure what. "A few shots" was enough explanation for her at the moment. She didn't care about such simple things right now; they didn't matter.

She and Patty stalked along in the shadows, following the strange boy with the white stripes in his hair. He had a suit on and, from the looks of him, was arrogant enough to have some real money on him. He was definitely one of those spoiled rich kids; morons with so much money they could—

(do anything they wanted. Host a feast, go shopping for fun, buy a mansion.)

—bathe in it. Liz hated kids like that; they made her sick. Patty cackled in anticipation as she rested in her sister's hand, poised and ready to feel her sister's wavelength shoot through her barrel. Liz prepared to jump the teenager…

And her stomach growled. It wasn't particularly quiet, but the boy was much too far away to have heard it.

He whipped around instantly, as though the faint sound actually had reached his ears.

"Who's there?" he demanded. Liz, determined to silence him before he had a tantrum and alerted any cops, flew out from behind the dumpster and tackled the teen, shoving him against the wall and jabbing Patty into his neck.

"Empty your pockets, kid," she shifted her cigarette to the other side of her mouth, "give me all the cash you've got." Her stomach rumbled again; —

(we're hungry, famished, starving. Give me what I need to feed my sister, what I need to stop the stomach pain, what I need to feel like I can provide.)

—dear God she was hungry.

It was like this most of the time. Liz had a rule that any food went first to Patty, then if there was anything left over, she could have it. There was rarely anything left, and when there was Liz suspected Patty hadn't eaten her fill. The substances she filled her body with didn't help much either; they just made her hungrier…

Hungrier as she floated high above moral standards.

He just looked up at her with half-lidded, golden eyes —

(no, he's looking down, down, down. How can someone shorter than me look down to see me?)

—and scowled lightly, staring at the cigarette.

He muttered something to himself, and even at this close proximity Liz couldn't quite make it out. His eye twitched once…twice. His hand twitched, but not towards his pocket; towards her cigarette.

Then, without so much as one discernable word, he knocked Patty away—

(nobody pushes my sister around like that! Nobody, nobody, nobody! I won't let them!)

—and she laid into him. The force of the punch radiated back up her arm, but the boy doubled over, and she felt like she would burst with vindictive satisfaction.

But then he straightened up as though nothing had happened. A blow like that should have had him gasping for breath for the next five minutes, not five seconds.

Liz stared in disbelief, first at the boy,—

(and people call us unnatural, inanimate weapons. What sort of thing is this freak?)

—and then at her own fist. In all her experience on the streets she'd never encountered something like this.

The child simply walked away, never turning to check and make sure—

(I never clicked Patty's safety switch off, why not? Why don't I shoot now? I should put a beam through his head; take his money while he lies there.)

—that he was safe. He could feel their wavelengths, and knew the meister had no wish to dirty her weapon further with any more unnecessary murder.

He decided he would escape without any more —

(threats, guns, danger, hungry girls, pain…)

—disturbances.

Even after he left, though, something bugged his conscience. Sure, she shouldn't be stealing, but he could have at least given her something. It didn't even have to be money; even food would have been something; after all, hadn't he heard her stomach growling? Why had he left her there when he'd known she was hungry?It wasn't until later that he found them again and—

(deeming us worthy, beautiful even, with that deformedly-happy, not-right face.)

—rescued them. He knocked flat every single one of the hit men that wanted the demon pistols. It didn't matter how many came at him at once, he took them out systematically and without hesitation.

After he finished he took the mess of bodies and stacked them, muttering under his breath, into a tidy pile. It was almost frightening how meticulously he organized the groaning forms. He leapt easily to the top of the heap, flipping neatly around in midair so that he faced the girls. Then—

(looking from his high throne down to the scum of the earth: the robbers, murderers, despicable inhuman weapons)

—he stretched out his arms and—

(begging, pleading, beseeching, almost weeping to us.)

— asked them to become his weapons. Asked them to join him on his missions to free the world of kishin eggs and ensure world peace. He asked them to fight with him until the day he took his father's place and they would stand beside him, one on each side.

He asked them to leave the streets behind to come with him—

(to eat his feast and live in his mansion and bathe in his money. Oh, sweet Lord, his moneymoneymoney…)

—and in exchange, he would clothe them and feed them. They would have beds to sleep in and a roof over their heads.

"Cinderellas! Patty, we're Cinderellas!"

(I'll take you for everything you've got. I'll suck you dry, you miserable, worthless, pampered, soft mama's boy. You just wait.)

A/N: So, there's chapter 1! As a reminder (or a first-time informing, if you didn't read the author's note at the beginning of the chapter, which I would highly recommend you go read now), any more information about the FanFic/the entire compilation may be found on my profile. You can reach me by PM with any questions as well.

~Rhythm Weaver~