Night 49: Home World: Streets near NHN, Tokyo

[swornandbroken]

[from here]

Mello stepped through the door, and the world spun crazily around him. Oh, god, what now? he had time to think, before it righted itself, and he found he was grinning, halfway to a laugh, even before he consciously identified the familiar tightness of his proper clothes, and the reassuring, much-missed press of the Sig against the

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[gamingsostfu]

As soon as he stepped through right behind Mello, Matt froze, eyes widening when he felt the familiar roughness of the denim on his legs, the fur of his vest against his jaw. He could still feel the gun against his back, the pack of cigarettes in his back left pocket. Coughing, he stumbled away from Mello, taking a few steps toward the car - his car - staring at it the entire time. Trying not to let his horror show on his face, Matt inspected the left side of the car, which was riddled with bulletholes; the soles of his boots scraped against the pavement as his feet dragged him forward, and he stopped close to the open driver side door, picking up one of the spent shells

[swornandbroken]

Mello didn't take his eyes off Matt as he inspected the car. The silence was all the answer he needed to that half-asked question. No wonder Matt had seemed about two seconds from decking him when they first met up. This happened because of me. The thought had the weight of simple truth to it, and brought none of the self-recrimination he'd half braced for. I haven't done it yet, and how the hell did we get here, anyway?

He caught the gun reflexively, his jaw tensing. "I didn't mean for it to go down like this." He didn't know the details of the plan, but he could speak for his future self enough to say that much.

"This can't be real." Mello walked a few paces, away from the car, back to where the hallway had been moments ago. The leather creaked as he moved. A marquee on one of the buildings was still scrolling, and a faint breeze brought the scent of the cigarette to him. So it was a good trick. He wasn't about to forget the Institute was capable of those.

[gamingsostfu]

He didn't smile, and he didn't frown; Matt didn't really do anything. He just settled with his back against the side of the car, slumping a little as he sucked on the cigarette. He blew a couple smoke rings before popping his neck, unintentionally shrugging at Mello. "Oh, but it is," he mumbled; it was weird, how loud that sounded in the silence. He shook his head, staring off into the distance

[swornandbroken]

Mello tucked the Beretta into his coat pocket, and continued around the circle marked by the cars. Some of them were still running, for fuck's sake, and the empty city went on as far as he could see, traffic lights changing exactly as if there were still traffic to regulate, windows picking up the sunlight now. Finally out of that place, only to land somewhere that looked like a movie set where they hadn't bothered to hire any actors or extras. He'd buy that it represented reality; his scrutiny of Matt's initial reaction had convinced him of that. But Mello was far too suspicious of how easily they'd walked out--not even trying-- and of the bizarreness of this place, to think it could be real.

He came back around to face Matt. Way to make me sound like a kid breaking his toys to avoid sharing. "Is that what I did?" he asked, his tone flat and cold. He'd die, and gladly, if that was what it took to end it. All or nothing, but not like some spoiled brat. To claim the win he deserved.

God, it felt good to think that again.