http://clampfix.fanworks.net/x-fix/assassin.txt </head><body><pre>La...la...la... I am the happy lurker….. Euh...Right, here you go. DISCLAIMER None of these characters are mine. Futhermore, nobody in their right mind would want to pay me for this. WARNING Spoiler for Asuka's December issue. Another WARNING This is a death fic. In fact, there are four deaths in it. Not for the faint of hearts. Yet another WARNING What? Still here? This fic is WEIRD. Period. Don't try to apply logic to it. Second note, this is written purely for fun. It is not meant as criticism or insult. But if this offends anyone, I apologize beforehand. EPISODE V : THE ASSASSIN STRIKES BACK (A weird death fic by Scáthach) The night was very late, but after all, Tokyo is the city that never sleeps. Bright neon lights shimmer in darkened avenues, and on an apartment overlooking the empty streets, light streamed from the windows of the penthouse high above the city. There were four women inside, sitting casually around a low table littered with stacks of paper and drawing implements. Empty beer cans and plastic wrappers were strewn about them on the floor. "Congratulations to us!" A woman with long, dark hair lifted her beer can into the air, contents spilling a bit. "We finally finished this month's installment and may I say, what a fine job we've done." Another woman, with narrow eyes and short hair giggled. "Yeah! I really think we've done it this time. I bet nobody guessed we were going to do it after all." "Hai," another woman with even shorter hair chirped. "This will jolt people's interest back into our story. We've been accused of neglecting this plot for some time." "But, we said we would resolve the situation with the other character since the last series ended." A serious-looking woman with black-rimmed glasses put in. "We haven't done that and we kill him already? Wouldn't people be upset?" The first woman who had spoken suddenly burst into a loud laughter, startling the other three into choking on their drinks. "Ohohoho....! They're even dumber than I thought if they buy that one! Haven't you noticed that /nothing/ ever gets resolved in all of our stories?" She downed more beer. "'Sides, why bother writing difficult endings anyways? People were already expecting them to die, and so now they die. So there." The other three women nodded starry-eyed at her wisdom. "She is so wise," one of them whispered in admiration. "Now, back to business. Who are we going to off next? Suggestions?" "Ahem." The quartet whipped their heads in unison at the soft sound, and blinked at the picture presented to them. A tall man clad in impeccable dark suit stood leaning against the wall of the apartment, regarding them with mild amusement. Long silence ensued. "Who are you? How did you get in?" the woman with long hair finally managed. "Never mind. Leave, or we'll call the police." The man looked a trifle wounded. "But I just got here. And is that a way to treat your own offspring?" The four stared. "Offspring?" One of them finally choked out. "Of course. After all, I am your creation, your brainchild so to speak. Aren't you glad to see me?" He smiled; mismatched eyes glinted with unholy light. "Wait a minute..." The woman with glasses looked slightly faint. "You...you can't be..." He gave them a radiant smile and bowed elegantly. "But you're not real! You're just a figment of our imagination!" she blurted. "I couldn't have had /that/ much beer already, could I?" The woman who had first spoken to him finally managed to pick up her jaw and her nerves from the floor and stepped forward. "All right, hold it right there, mister. I don't know how you got here, or what you're on, but you'll leave through that door this instant! Girls, call the police." "That wouldn't be very wise." An unnatural wind swept into the room, scattering the neat stacks of paper on the table. The wind continued to swirl in ever-rising intensity and suddenly the room was filled with its roaring sound, the full force of it hurling various small objects to the wall, the papers now whirling with mad motions in the air. A faintly sweet scent began to seep into the air. "This can't be happening! Where's this wind coming from? Windows don't even /open/ in this apartment!" "It's a dream. It's gotta be a dream...Mommy!" "That's it. I'll never touch a drop of alcohol ever again." "....." The fourth woman simply ducked and crawled under the table. "I am most displeased with your recent...effort in writing. Do you really think you can get away with something like that?" The man's deadly calm voice was strangely audible even in the midst of the wind screaming in their ears. "Therefore, I decided to terminate my contract with you..." There was a trace of mirth in his voice. "With your death of course." "Wait!" The panicked author screamed, wind tumbling her long hair. "You can't do this to us! You're our creation after all. How could you do this to your own mothers?" "Feh, as if I've never done /that/ before." "We didn't mean it! We're sorry! We promise to resurrect you in the next issue!" "Too late." Sakura petals began to pour madly with the furious wind, showers of pink and red blood, shards of it cutting into skin, leaving a trace of red. "Oyasumi nasai, minna-sensei." The sakura...was the last thought that echoed on the woman's mind before her world was reduced to darkness, the sickly sweet smell of sakura, and the slowly fading sound of a man's silky laughter. ------- It was an unusually pleasant day in autumn. A slim young man with dark hair and large green eyes frowned in front of the large, state- of-the-art television set displayed on the window of a large electronic store in a shopping area in Shinjuku. The scene that was aired a moment before was just replaced with the face of the announcer when he felt a familiar presence behind him. He turned around to face the newcomer. "Seishirou-san. Was that really necessary?" The tall man smiled innocently and took off his sunglasses, tucking it neatly into his front coat pocket. "What was, Subaru-kun?" Subaru nodded towards the screen, where the TV announcer was already halfway into the news that had shocked the country earlier. "...recent development regarding the mysterious death of four famous manga artists, better known as 'CLAMP'. The police had released a statement that as for now, prime suspect for cause of death was due to food poisoning. The women had been known to consume unhealthily large amount of beer and dried octopus snack past their expired date. More news and interview with officer in charge in our evening edition. Back to our regular schedule, the music group 'X Japan'..." "Oh, that." Seishirou waved a hand dismissively. "You have to admit: they were getting more annoying every year. And they didn't give me decent air time in 'X'." "But," Subaru sighed. "They haven't even finished the manga yet! Don't you want to know what happens next?" The assassin shrugged, totally unconcerned. "What is there to know about? It's the year 2000 and the world's still here. The ending is a bit obvious, don't you think?" Subaru fell silent, if not entirely convinced. "Oh, come on Subaru-kun." Seishirou tapped the younger man's forehead gently with his index finger. "Don't worry your pretty head too much because of this. Don't forget, there are hordes of fanfic writers and doujinshi artists just dying to write stories about you and I and the others. Besides, aren't you getting tired of being tortured and pushed around by them all these years?" Subaru nodded and swallowed painfully. "They even made me kill you," he said in a small, strained voice. "There..there..." Seishirou draped his arm comfortingly around the onmyouji's shoulders. "That's over now, we're here, and the culprits had been dealt with. Speaking of which," changing topic swiftly in the way he excelled at, Seishirou went on. "Who do you think should write for us from now? We do have several selections, you know. What do you think?" "Eeeh...? Umm...anyone's fine with me." "Let's see." Seishirou tapped a finger to his chin in contemplation. "There's these women who are really good at yaoi..and ah, of course there's my loyal fangirls..." Subaru's head snapped up at that. "Wait a minute... you don't mean those ladies who keeps writing me in S&M scenes with you...do you?" "Ah, Subaru-kun," Seishirou tightened his clutch on the young man's shoulders, a predatorial glint on his one good eye. "But they do it soooo well!" Subaru paled fractionally, beads of perspiration growing on his forehead. "Ano..." He tried to edge away from the assassin's vice-like grip. "Besides!" Seishirou smiled suggestively and purred. "Don't tell me you didn't have as much fun as the readers and I did…." "Se...Se...Sei...shirou-san!" Seishirou laughed and steered the still protesting onmyouji away from the window display. "There's this restaurant that serves the best ice-cream in Tokyo for dessert. We can talk this over lunch, Subaru-kun. As for who will be writing for us...the position's still open for negotiations." There was a sinister glint behind his smiling visage. "As long as they know that OOC-ness is punishable by death of course." He laughed cheerfully. Behind them, the wind began to swirl, picking up a stray sakura petal from the ground and carried it afloat with the breeze. End Flames and torches at scathach23@hotmail.com This story is purely fictional. Any similarities this fic has for any persons, dead or alive, is the result of a combination of shock (due to a certain spoiler I'm sure most of you already know), Caffeine overdose, and most probably, temporary insanity. I can't be held accountable for it. ……..I'll probably regret this in the morning.</pre><p><a href="./">Back</a></p><p><a href=http://www.dreamhost.com/donate.cgi?id=216><img border=0 alt="Donate towards our web hosting bill!" src=https://secure.newdream.net/donate1.gif></a></p></body></html>