The Innocent (A 'Finder' Fanfiction)

Shadow of Pluto - 37 - Aaron

His march through the building had been a real waltz so far. Alex' descriptions had led him easily and without any problems along the dim corridors, and the two men he had killed had never even spotted him – the first had gotten his punishment for relaxing on an antique bench and not taking his job seriously; the second for being too curious about the sound of the silencer.

Then he set foot onto the upper floor and approached the room he was heading for, when he saw in the distance how the door was opened and how a gray shimmer painted the door frame's outlines onto the parquet. Two figures stepped outside cautiously, one tall, one smaller. 'Arata!', he knew right away.

He stopped, grabbed his gun firmly, raised it towards the taller person so far away, and only then did he notice that the three of them weren't alone. There was another man in the shadows between them.

"Who is there?", that one barked towards the other two. No answer. There was hectic whispering instead, before the wheeze of another suppressed gun soared along the walls. It was answered right away by the figure in between shooting back, his weapon so much loader. The muzzle light flashed in the darkness and made Aaron blind for a second. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to shove the dazzle away – and heard in all the noise how someone ran. A quick glance at the first instant his eyes saw clearly again confirmed that it was the boy. He had run off.

Aaron hissed at himself, then darted around and away from the two men still between himself and the one he had come for. They both were still shooting at each other, while one of them was calling for ... 'Akihito' to come back.

'No!', Aaron gritted his teeth to keep himself from yelling, when he rushed down the next fly of stairs to catch up with the boy on the lower floor. But was he here? Had he run this way? Or another?

He shot two more men who stumbled across his path, not caring who they were, only making sure they were not the one he was after.

Then the lights went out, and he was suddenly blind again – even though in these parts there hadn't been much light before anyway, except for what had fallen through the windows from the garden.

Blindness and irritation made him stop dead in his tracks. He panted but tried to remain as quiet as possible, for now only his ears could help him know if anybody was around.

So much talk and planning for nothing! It would have bugged him because he as a matter of fact liked to walk into whatever danger came his way well-prepared. Even if he was not afraid of surprises, only an idiot did not try to get as much and as detailed information as possible. And he was a fucking professional! The simple reason why this all kind of amused him – or at least would have if he had not felt preoccupied with other thoughts – was that it once more proofed the needlessness of fancy words. Yet, his brother had never stopped in his posh descriptions and speculations when they had been planning.

Very likely by now even for Alex any joy in fancy talk had run out.

Despite the quiet that still hung inside the mansion mainly, it was impossible to not realize what was going on: There was too much background noise that kept interrupting the quiet ever so slightly. Sometimes from afar, sometimes from somewhat closer, shots could now be heard frequently. Occasionally, a shout echoed in between through the dark hallways like a stray bird that was searching for a way out, and footsteps, sometimes sneaking, sometimes halting abruptly to not give themselves away, sometimes running, hammered like a faint beat beneath it all.

Aaron hurried down corridor after corridor, dodged into corners and doorways whenever he was not sure if there might be a danger lurking nearby that one man wouldn't be able to handle easily, then he almost stumbled across one of the men he had shot dead before. It was the curious one, laying face down in a puddle of his own blood, and Aaron almost had passed him, when he saw the motion in the edge of his eye. He whirled around, gun at the ready, finger on the trigger.

Arata had knelt above the other, probably searching for a weapon ... Oh! Indeed, searching for a weapon! Shoving himself backwards and away from the corpse and the man aiming at him, the boy raised the gun. Huge eyes stared up at Aaron, in which the dim moonlight that permeated through a large window got caught and reflected.

Moving his free hand slowly through the air, Aaron tried to signal the other that he meant no harm – even though it was a lie of course if this was not Arata anymore. He licked his lips and promised this much to himself: He had come for Arata, not for the other. If this was Akihito again, then he would just shoot the boy. After all, that was the best punishment for Ryuichi Asami he could imagine.

"I'm here to get you out", he tried, whispering distinctly and measured.

Two hands now grabbed at the gun opposing him, which seemed pretty large in those tiny fingers. The moonlight was already swimming in some wetness that was brimming in the boy's huge eyes.

"I'm here to take you to safety."

"Like you did in the other cellar? Or like you did in the hospital?", the young man shrieked back.

'Ah!', Aaron's mind made very loudly. It felt like the huge hammer of a judge had suddenly crushed down on his chest.

Nonetheless, he caught himself whispering: "Arata ..."

"No!", the boy hissed back. The wetness in his eyes was suddenly gone. They lightened up in fury – as if rage had instantly burned the tears away. Then he jerked the gun upwards, his fingers twitched –

Aaron leapt aside. The shot rang so loudly around him, it made his ears shriek in horror, then he lashed out and the weapon that had tried to pierce him with another salvo skid across the floor.

"No!", Akihito yelled. He struck back. A sharp blow crashed against Aaron's knee, he stumbled and smashed his kneecap into the ground. Again, he gritted his teeth but this time in agony.

But a second later he was up, caught up with the boy who had tried to weasel away from him. He grabbed him, then smacked him across the face with the knuckles of the first he had closed around the gun.

The young man fell backwards against the wall, skid down on it and hit the floor with a thud. For a few moments, he winced at the pain and the disorientation that blow had to have caused him. Then he looked up again, his eyes angry and hateful, his lip bleeding.

Violently, his chest heaved, probably less from the effort to flee than from the rage inside him.

Aaron felt an evil, cold knot form within his stomach. He raised the gun, he aimed, he looked for a last time into those huge eyes staring up at him. The trigger was hard and obedient at his finger.

'Pull!', he told himself.

It was just one twitch. Not more than that was necessary.

'Shoot!'

His fingertip quivered on the tiny lever.

Akihito sobbed for air staring up at the other man, fixating him still, his eyes alive with spite.

Aaron shook his hand with the gun to relax it, then raised it again, aimed, felt the trigger, flexed his muscles, but the only thing that twitched was something in his face.

It was some muffled talk down one of the hallways, that made him finally move again. He turned his head just a tiny notch, not ripping his eyes from the other one. Like that, he listened. Not a word he could understand, but a second later he knew already that the people whispering to each other were approaching, hurriedly, angrily.

He swallowed back some bile that wanted to sour his insides.

"Get the gun!", he snarled at the boy, jerking his head into the other direction, where the weapon the other had found and lost so easily still lay. "Get the gun and get out of here!"

Akihito's face darkened. For a second, it became red and furious, but then he tore himself away, scrambled across the floor and snatched the weapon back up. He turned with it in his grasp and raised it up, aiming once more. A sharp wheeze shot out between his teeth but got interrupted by steps somewhere near and very loud now.

"Run!" Aaron yelled at him, then dashed around to get rid of whoever was coming.