We Come From The South » Isaac Lahey [2] ✓

a horrorful memory

"His eyes were glowing." Scott interrupted, his body leant forwards against the desk, his eyes wide, his fingers had even stopped fiddling with the objects on the edge, his whole body attuned to this story that would become their lives.

Chris forced his eyes open, yet they still seemed far away, his mind swimming in the memory of his first and only encounter with the silver-masked soldiers that the werewolves had fought last night, and into dawn. "There was something almost ritualistic about it. Like, it was looking right into his soul."

"That's the same thing it did to me." Isaac commented, not bothering to hide his bitter tone. He perched against the side of the desk, his body facing the perfectly still Chris as Allison bent over his head, cleaning his head wound and stitching it up. He had his arm around Adrianna's waist, his fingers absently playing with the material of her shirt.

"That's what it did to everyone." Allison remembered, her voice soft as her eyes remained focused on her task.

"Not everyone." Scott realised. "They only came after the werewolves."

"And Lydia." Allison corrected.

"Anyone with a connection to the supernatural." Chris surmised.

Isaac's eyebrows came together slightly, "Then who's the guy they went after in Japan?"

"A kumicho. A yakuza boss." Chris inhaled lightly, "It was my first gun deal. I was only 18 and it was supposed to be a simple exchange. Except Gerard left out the minor detail of the buyers being yakuza. He wanted to see if I could adapt in the moment. Testing my ability to, uh, improvise."

"Or your ability to survive." Allison almost spat, her voice stronger now as she remembered the ordeal her grandfather put her through after her mothers death.

"The moment the sun went down, it was like they just materialised out of the shadows." Chris's eyes became distant again, an overwhelming amount of emotions boiling up inside of him that Adrianna almost felt as if she were his 18 year old self. "They had swords, not curved like katanas, but straight black steel, like ninjatos."

"What did they want?" Scott asked.

"To get to the kumicho." Chris replied, almost wincing as he remembered this memory, as he remembered the ricocheting of many bullets, unharming these soldiers, the slice of the swords against skin, the pour of bright red blood against the sand as each yakuza guard was slayed as if they were nothing. "They cut down every living thing in their way."

Isaacs other hand went to his ear, his fingertips brushing the symbol behind his ear absently, his mind remembering the feeling of the silver-masked soldiers touch, and then the unbearable cold. "Did they mark him like they did us?" He wondered.

"Not exactly." Chris responded, his features finally winced, as if someone hit his head again right where his injury was. He didn't want to remember the horror of that murder, their steel swords stabbing through skin that wasn't human, the sharp, razor-like teeth of the kumicho, his eyes, pure white, and the blood that quickly spilt from his lips, from each stab wound and coated the fountain water pink. It was not something he wished to witness again.

"What was he?" Scott questioned, his eyebrows pulled together in concentration.

"I don't know. But there might be someone who does. There were a few others that survived that night. One of them was a man named Katashi, they called him Silverfinger because of an unusual prosthetic. And it looked like he was getting ready to take them all on himself." Chris paused. "I've known for awhile Katashi was in the country. I spent yesterday tracking him down."

"It doesn't look like he wants be discovered." Adrianna finally spoke, a finger pointed at her Uncles head injury.

Chris looked to her, his lips pulling into a line. "Not particularly, no."