тнє ωσℓƒ αмσηg υѕ

[∂яινє му ωσℓƒ ωιℓ∂ ♥]

Please only reply if you are ᴄʀʏsᴛᴀʟғʀᴏsᴛ.

&&

The sun was shining, bathing the fields and hills in a golden glow, the turning leaves in the trees swaying in a light breeze. It had been a great day, starting off with a grand family breakfast, moving on to a walk through the local wildlife center, and now, ending the day with the yellow disk in the sky shedding its last rays upon them, a picnic dinner. He was laughing, smile stretching wide and genuine, while he played with the blue bouncy ball in his arms, his little brother following after whilst giggling.

One time, the smaller one kicked the ball so far, the teen had to run down the hill and into the field to retrieve it. Turning once claiming the toy back into his arms, he blinked in surprise at seeing his mother and father standing and folding the blanket, the three of them disappearing over the ridge of the large hill. Panic slightly setting in, he bounded up the dying grass and stopped at the top. They already had everything in the back of the car, and his mother was getting in the driver's side while his father helped his brother into his car seat. How could they leave now? It wasn't even late...

"Wait!" He called with a smile, jogging down the hill. "I'll be there in a sec!"

As if they couldn't hear him, his dad shut the back door and opened the passenger, making him swallow.

"Dad! Wait!"

The aging man halted, grip tightening on the handle. Lowering his head, he flung the door open, about to get in.

Skidding to a halt by the back of the car, he smiled and was about to walk to the other empty seat when he was held still by a fist in his shirt. Looking up with wide eyes, he came face to face with his father. Well, he would have if the man's face wasn't turned away. His hold didn't falter, though.

"Dad?"

The man with grey in his hair reached in his picket and pulled out a folded but of worn paper. Smacking it into the boy's hand, he turned and headed back to the car. The bot looked down at the parcel, reading the front which said 'open me'. Lifting his head to ask what it was, he paled at seeing the back of the car already speeding away and kicking up dust.

"Wait!" He yelped, trying to run after his family, only to see the car speed faster. Stumbling, he sniffled and trembled, unable to continue. He was never seen as very athletic. Running after a car, even after just a few seconds, winded him. He watched them leave, their speed never once slowing, the parcel clung tightly in his fist.

&&

Jolting, he exhaled heavily and looked around with blurry vision, body stiff as a board and on his back, his hands clasped as if around a rose on his stomach. Peaceful. As if he was in a coffin. Sitting up, he winced at the pop in his shoulders and sighed, throwing the covers off of his partially naked body only to be reminded he wasn't alone by the slide of fingertips on the dimples in his back.

"Where are you going?" The husky voice of his sleepy one night stand murmured, half into the pillow. The eighteen year old stood and pulled on his shirt, necklace jingling against his collar bone.

"Home."

"Already?" Now the one night stand was awake, sitting up a bit and watching him. "What about last night?"

He pulled on his black distressed skinny jeans. "What about it?"

"You're just going to pretend it didn't happen?"

He was silent while perched on the edge of the bed, pulling on his boots and tying them. Standing, he grabbed the black cloth from the nightstand and wrapped it around his mouth, covering his nose. Turning, he looked at the one night stand who had no name in his eyes and yanked his coat onto his shoulders, the black material settling close to his frame and hugging him.

There seemed to be some recognition of him, however, because the man turned ashen. "Cronus."

He wasn't given much time to speak anything else, as the color of liquid red spotted against his white face, pooling in the sheets and covering up DNA.

Slipping through the window, the assassin kept his head low, sliding into the shadows of the alleyway.

&&

"Cronus?" The man beside him at the bar looked amused. "Like the Greek god?"

"Titan." The man on the right of him corrected his friend. "He was the youngest of the titan children of Gaia and Uranus, and was the father of the Olympians."

The first speaker waved a dismissing hand, uncaring of the origins. "Are you going to accept our offer or not?"

The legal teen watched his reflection at the back of the alcohol shelving system; his alarmingly blue eyes, the dark limbal ring bleeding into the color, giving it a geared look, and the slightly more dilated than normal pupils. Pale skin, untouched and unbruised, save for a few scars of battle. His mask, covering his mouth and nose. Everywhere else was completely covered. Dark fingerless gloves, long sleeve shirt layered with his gothic trench. As for what was underneath the bar: skinny jeans colored like shadows, feet hidden in thick boots that could leave you bleeding should you receive one in the gut.

The two men beside him were getting agrivated. "Just answer the question!"

[ᴄʀʏsᴛᴀʟғʀᴏsᴛ]

A man stepped through the door and ran his fingers through his brown hair. He paused and then walked to the bar, taking a seat on the other side of the two people talking to the younger man, who didn't actually look old enough to be there. Jefferson Davis, also known as JD by his friends, ignored all of them. He ordered a beer from the bartender and waited patiently for the man to fill his glass.

[∂яινє му ωσℓƒ ωιℓ∂ ♥]

The man slammed his fist into the counter, the one who had a much more short temper than his friend. "Yes or no!"

Standing, the boy turned and walked to the exit. That wasn't the best idea to evade the advances, though, because both quickly followed, rounding so one stood in front and the other stood behind the boy.

"Wrong move. Now your answer doesn't matter. We'll take your services either way."

The temperamental man grabbed the front of his buttoned coat and the boy looked down at the hand with a blank look. Blinking, he raised pale fingertips, nails painted a shiny black, and rested them on his white knuckles before kneeing him hard in the groin.

[ᴄʀʏsᴛᴀʟғʀᴏsᴛ]

JD looked up in surprise at the man's cry of pain. He raised his eyebrows, but knew better than to get involved. He just watched, curious as to what was going on. He was a reporter, after all. He was curious about everything. He didn't even notice when the bartender set his beer in front of him.

[∂яινє му ωσℓƒ ωιℓ∂ ♥]

Hissing when alien hands rested firmly on his hips, restraining his movements quite a bit, he lashed out, slamming his head into his face and ramming his elbow into his abs. Successfully accomplishing his defense, one of the man's hands fell from his hip, giving him the freedom he needed to whirl around and punch him in the nose. Knuckles red, he stepped back from his opponent only to approach with his booted heel, kicking him heavily in the stomach and sending him down. Noticing the bar's antics paused, all eyes watching him, he flipped his hood over his head and turned, walking out of the neon lit building. The lower flap of his jacket, not able to be secured, whipped back to reveal the sais on his belt before the door shut loudly behind himself. A few guys helped the fallen customers up, caring for their wounds before the bar was up and running again, as if nothing had happened.

[ᴄʀʏsᴛᴀʟғʀᴏsᴛ]

(Should JD follow him? Or would they meet again elsewhere/another time?)

[∂яινє му ωσℓƒ ωιℓ∂ ♥]

[ i'm thinking seeing the sais would trigger a memory of his or something - maybe his father was a master at the sais and his father was Cronus' master - and then, remembering it, he starts researching things and figures out what he is. then we skip to when Cronus is living next door. that way we understand there's a reason by JD wanting Cronus over all the time. so that he can keep an eye on him and keep him away from the weapons. ]

[ᴄʀʏsᴛᴀʟғʀᴏsᴛ]

(Ohh, that sounds great! So he remembers some of his childhood, when he was too young to know what was happening? Then he looks into it and pissed off some dangerous people)

[∂яινє му ωσℓƒ ωιℓ∂ ♥]

[ yeah, maybe JD remembers watching his father teach himself the Sais from behind the door or something, and then remembers seeing a 10 year old there several years later, learning from JD's dad ]

[ᴄʀʏsᴛᴀʟғʀᴏsᴛ]

JD blinked and shook his head, confusion crossing his face. For some reason, that guy made him think of his father. Something about the way he moved, the way he fought, the look on his face. He stood up, throwing some money down on the counter to pay for the untouched beer, and then walked out of the bar. He headed home, hands in his pockets, forehead wrinkled in thought.

He couldn't remember much about his father, only that the man never spent much time around him. He'd walked out all-together when JD turned eight. The last time he'd seen his father, he'd been working with a boy, teaching him to fight. See, JD's father was a black belt in multiple martial arts, and even if it was a lie, JD had been told that's how his father made money--teaching martial arts. Then he realized that it wasn't just that the guy from the bar reminded him of his father--he'd looked familiar himself. But had he ever met him before? One of his father's students, perhaps?

[∂яινє му ωσℓƒ ωιℓ∂ ♥]

&&

Uncrossing his arms from his chest, he walked away from the house he had scoured clean of even his fingerprints, what was once a basket of fruits and other goodies now put away and the fruits aligned according to type in four rows. Walking silent as a ghost down the hall, he stopped on the back deck, looking over at the water. He headed down to the beach, eyes staying on the gray tide.

[ᴄʀʏsᴛᴀʟғʀᴏsᴛ]

When JD got home, he pulled out his laptop and did what he did best--research. He spent hours looking into everything he could think of, writing down what he found and printing out newspaper clippings. It was long into the morning that exhaustion hit him and he passed out at his desk.

[∂яινє му ωσℓƒ ωιℓ∂ ♥]

At late afternoon he struck. Striding through the home, he gathered the parts he needed before assembling them at the roof. Crouching there, silenced cross bow fixed to the area beside him, he contemplated his life choices that brought him there while watching, 50 feet away, the man asleep at his desk. He hadn't always been a murderer. After his family abandoned him in those fields, he tried to get back to them the best he could. Having an Eidetic memory had helped him to retrace the paths they took to find their way there, so that he could find his way home. But when he arrived, into the night, he had seen them through the dining window sitting at the table, eating their meal, laughing, talking, as if nothing had happened. As if they hadn't left their eldest son to fend for himself. He was still only ten years old. It wasn't enough to know how to find food, or somewhere warm to sleep.

He remembered finding Sensei, after being woken by a gentle hand on the side of a subway station. He had taken him back with him, to the private property where he taught his pupils the Way of Martial Arts for defense against those who threatened the existence of civilians who had yet to discover their Gifts. He fed him, clothed him, allowed him to rest there. For years he stayed with them, learning all he could. But finally, there was a time when his anger and vengeance couldn't be ignored. Even Sensei himself could see it fueled his actions, and that was not the Way. The Way was to be centered at peace, love, being one with oneself. To do the things he does for others, not for himself.

He was kicked out then, in the nicest way, to find his own destiny and learned the lessons he couldn't learn in the dojo. What he found instead was work. At first they didn't take him seriously due to his age, and bypassed him often. Until he took matters into his own hands, and killed those clientele that had refused his offer. It was dragged out. They knew, one by one, he was coming. He preferred it that way. It instilled fear in their hearts.

But despite all that, he wasn't a bad guy. Not entirely. Deep within he was still that little boy lost in the fields, crying for his mother and father, and wanting to pretend it didn't happen.

Jerking himself from his thoughts, he breathed deeply and ran a hand through his hair. Back to business. Looking through the scope of the device, finger on the trigger, he exhaled slowly...

And sat there. He had killed hundreds of clients, men and women, in this short time, and yet... this time he couldn't do it. It wasn't that he wasn't capable, it was that his body refused. Finger on the trigger, all it would need would be a single twitch to finish the job. And yet he still sat there, stiff as a statue. A few times after the first of this different day it happened, and still he couldn't do it. Letting out a frustrated growl, he stood with the weapon and walked back into the house.

&&

Sitting on the rock beach, overlooking the lake, he had his eyes closed, arms resting on his knees, legs crossed pretzel style. Images were flashing through his mind, but the most prominent was the sleeping man. From his file, he simply went by JD, and was a journalist. It made some sense, he supposed, that someone would want him dead. Perhaps he had seen something he wasn't supposed to. Cronus did it too - got rid of the evidence. On several missions where he was instructed to kill only the one desired, he'd drop 10, 20 others, just to keep the secret safe. Sometimes one or two would hide and get away, telling of a shadow that swooped upon their base. But that was alright. Most didn't believe them, and if they didi, it became part of a growing legend. But still, a question was probing his mind. JD looked harmless, and probably was. Like an aging cat who's been declawed and is losing his teeth. Why kill him?

[ᴄʀʏsᴛᴀʟғʀᴏsᴛ]

JD woke up late into the morning. He blinked and raised his head, his eyelids drooping and threatening to fall back closed. It took him a moment to get his bearings, and when he did his eyes went wide. He looked at his clock and jumped to his feet. "Shit!" It was 10 and he was supposed to be to work at 9 today. He ran to his bedroom and hurriedly took a shower. He threw on an outfit, not really caring about how he looked, and then rushed out the door. Completely unaware that an assassin had been planning on killing him last night.

[∂яινє му ωσℓƒ ωιℓ∂ ♥]

He sat there, upon that beach, for what seemed like minutes but was truly hours. By the time there was the sound of steps on the pebbled shore, the sun was already trying to set.

[ᴄʀʏsᴛᴀʟғʀᴏsᴛ]

JD's boss didn't say much to him when he walked in late. All he had to do was give an simple excuse and he was off the hook. He was never sure if this was because he was a good journalist, or if his boss was just lenient. After work that day, he went back to his favorite bar--the place where he'd seen the boy last night. He doubted he would be there again, but maybe the memory would help him think.

[∂яινє му ωσℓƒ ωιℓ∂ ♥]

Everything was set up in both houses. JD's home was rigged with cameras and microphones, while in his own rental, several weapons were placed at the windows and roof, hidden from view but ready to be used when the time came. He had spent the day on the beach, rolling in memories, some good most bad, he decided to head to the bar from before to find someone to distract him from his thoughts. He wasn't one to commit to a single man, thus one night stands fit him perfectly.

Entering the bar in his usual gettup, he sat in the shadows of the darkened club this time, shrouded in black and leaning against the cushion of the booth.

[ᴄʀʏsᴛᴀʟғʀᴏsᴛ]

JD didn't notice him at first. He sipped his beer, his eyes trained on the rough grain of the counter.

[∂яινє му ωσℓƒ ωιℓ∂ ♥]

Noticing the journalist at the bar, the boy watched him with narrowed blue eyes, as if beckoning him over.

[ᴄʀʏsᴛᴀʟғʀᴏsᴛ]

JD glanced up, and the first thing he saw was the boy's eyes, staring right at him. He gave a small smile, a bit of a smirk, and winked. Probably a bad idea, after seeing what he'd done to those other men, but he couldn't help it. He was a flirt.