The Truth Will Set Us Free

[mango]

SONNY "SUN" TOMOMI​

Don't come looking for me.

"Idiot," Sun breathed, averting her gaze to avoid his intense eyes.

I mean it, I know you're stubborn but, please, stay here and guard that.

"You still haven't told me what it's for."

And I won't, you'll figure it out -

"Stop it," Blue flinched as Sun interrupted him, her expression harsh. "Don't even start with the cryptic bullshit, just tell me why it's important and we'll figure out where you can go - "

Go? You think there's somewhere in these slums the black jackets haven't searched yet? And here I thought you were a pessimist! Get real Sonny, I'm a dead man. His voice broke, and with that Blue flung his glass across the room, the shatter not phasing either; he ran his fingers through his long, blonde locks, which fell over his face, shadowing his always kind, hazel eyes. With his forehead in his palm, pale skin illuminated in the lively flicker of flames on a log within the heath, he laughed, though it trembled and shook, if she didn't know him he'd have seemed a bit like a mad man. I'm a dead, dead man.

Blue never really lost composure - her lashes hid the sad glimmer in her eyes, which lingered on his trembling body, his neck defined as it tensed, shoulders risen, back slightly hunched. A temporary let down of a carefully crafted guard. She started to reach a hand over, but quickly brought it back to her lap - Sonny never knew what was too much, or insensitive.

"You don't have to be, do you have any idea what people get away with here? We'll just... Stash you somewhere, there are places, there are... I mean, you know?" She tugged at the throw blanket falling from her shoulders, bundling herself up once more in the thin fabric, keeping her gaze on the wooden flooring emanating a dim, amber glow in the presence of the fire.

People get away with things here because the government doesn't give one shit if we all kill each other off, He told her, which she nodded, well aware. They don't care if we rot, starve, start fires, hell - I heard about one of the first reported cases of cannibalism yesterday! And... Peeking up from his palm for the first time, she reluctantly met his gaze, and that's just what's been reported. You're all boxed in with fucking zombies.

"Well that was uplifting," She managed, though he wasn't having the aversion of seriousness.

I don't know how you're still cracking jokes.

"What else am I supposed to do?"

Take that chip, and guard it with your life 'till you find someone who can extract the data and upload it to a server not associated with the city officials, He told her seriously, and she felt the slight bulge in her back pocket, though since he'd mentioned his danger in retrieving this Sun could only feel animosity towards the object.

"We can do that tomorrow."

We shouldn't even be in this house together, but I thought it'd be nicer to tell you goodbye over... tap water, than landline.

"I don't do goodbyes," She responded with sass, earning a genuine smirk from Blue who merely shook his head.

Me neither.

"Then let's just not do that and intend to see each other tomorrow."

Sun... - Their gazes locked, her brown eyes vibrant, serious, daring him to push. He held her stare for a long moment, feeling the coil of regret wrap around and strangle his chest, heavy, and pressing. Managing a tired smile of submission, he pushed off the floor. So... Ramen or ramen?

-

"You know how to use a pistol better than any of the gangs around here, surely that'll be enough?"

Maybe.

"And you know self defense, if someone were to break in."

Yes, Sonny.

"And then there's the back window, you could just slip out of there if you hear anything - "

Hey, She stepped out on the porch, acknowledging the subtle rising of blue in the fading night sky, but turned around at his softer tone. He sounded tired, and she frowned. Don't worry about it.

"That's literally the worst thing to say. Ever."

With a few little nods, he stood there for a moment, pensive, leaning in his doorway, just staring at her. Sonny was uncomfortable - she wasn't a very comforting person, and how the hell do you support someone who thinks they're going to die the next day? Wrapped up in her thoughts, she missed the extension of his arms, which wrapped around her somewhat tightly, tugging her into his chest. She stiffened dramatically, as if he were hugging a rock, but managed to peek up at him, only a couple inches shorter than his over six foot stature. "What's that for?"

Does there have to be a reason?

"Uh, no, I..." Letting her gaze fall, she managed to wrap her arms around his torso, attempting to return the affectionate gesture, though she herself felt awkward. "...I guess not." She felt his grip tighten, and the weight of his chin settling on her head. After a quiet moment she sighed, feeling her waterlines sting. "I thought I said no goodbyes."

Then don't call it a goodbye.

"Then..." she felt flushed with irritation, retracting a hand to wipe at her eyes, which quite suddenly released an entire stream of tears, though she kept her voice level. "Then what do we call it?"

...'Till next time.

-

Car doors slammed.

She watched from down the street as a stretcher came through the front doors of Blue's small house, gliding down the driveway, a thick blue tarp securely placed over what was shaped like a body. It was loaded into a slick, ebony van, over sized, and accompanied by two other, smaller black cars, all of which were full of odd, ominous characters in dark coats. Her heart sunk. Bastard wasn't kidding.​

 

[Valor]

​

"Name? What use does a monster have with a name?" - AGENT 12

---

​

Agent 72

​

"Has your target been eliminated?"

"Would I be here if they weren't?"

"Sarcasm, that's not like you."

"Questions, that's not like you."
​

The room was dark, two figures facing one another in an eternal silence. As if from the abyss, the woman extended her hand outwards, an all-too-familiar envelope clasped between her slender digits. This was the extent of 72's world - a dark room with no furniture and a raven-haired woman carrying an envelope. This was who he was and all that he would ever be.

"Another?" 72 extended his hand out, receiving the envelope which hid the identity of his next victim. If there was anything that stripped him of his humanity, it was not the killing: but opening the manila Pandora's Box.

"Is that a problem, 72?" The curiosity bled from her words, almost daring the young man to dig himself into a deeper grave. Unfortunately, 72 never reciprocated such curiosity. He would not want to appear in someone else's manila folder one day.

"No... I'll eliminate him." 72 grasped the folder in his hands as the woman strode past him and towards the door. As she passed, her gaze turned back towards him.

"Her." She finished before disappeared behind the doorway, closing the door as she saw herself out. As she passed through the doorway, she slammed the door behind her. She always made it a point to slam the door on her way out.

Agent 12

Once he was confident that he was alone, the killer tore open the folder to reveal the image of a young schoolgirl. Dark, amber eyes that peered almost lazily towards him, as if they questioned his existence. Buried underneath lay the one thing that 72 would never possess - an identity. Her name, living address and even her taxable income (which was nothing more than a bunch of zeroes) were available to him, allowing him to find his target both quickly and efficiently.
​

On his way out, the young man grabbed his weapon of choice: a long, curved sword that had been given to him during his youth by the organization. It was the only real personal object in his possession, yet 72 had found many years ago that a sword makes a poor companion on a long road.

He knew the address of his target, but he also knew exactly where she would be before that. The folder had revealed that the young girl had been an acquaintance of his most recent target. If his intuition was correct, which it always was, she would certainly be in the vicinity of his most recent target. Not far off, it would not be long before he would be on the tail of his new target...

​

 

[mango]

S O N N Y​

​

It'd been a long walk to nowhere when her back pocket buzzed, briefly startling the female. She wiped her waterlines which had been fostering unwelcome tears for some time, sighing at the dampness of her sweater sleeve; her mascara lingered beneath her eyes, faint shadows half heartedly reaching out past her cheek bones. Glossy eyes analyzed her phone screen, mirroring sadness as the header reminded her of the company party this evening.

- With Blue (:

"Hell, it's already three." Sun swallowed the lump swelling in her throat, attempting to focus her vision on the screen, but it was merely a blur of pixels and light as the tears manifested in her eyes again. "I'm pathetic. This is pathetic. This whole stupid town is just -" She concluded and kicked the first thing she passed, cursing immediately and hopping her only good foot as her cathartic release collided with a solid trash bin.

"Owowowow," slipping the device back in her pocket, Sun stood there on the sidewalk - uninterested in anything that wasn't dwelling - which was exactly why she pursued a sharp turn on the corner and started for the restaurant. She needed to do something to occupy herself, bawling her eyes out at home was not an option - Blue wouldn't want it, and it wouldn't bring him back. She repeated those tough words in her head, as if they'd help her maintain composure for long, trying hopelessly to keep her thoughts off her throbbing foot, and furthermore, a heart that had yet to properly grieve. Sun never grieved. She didn't even relax.

...​

Y'know, suppressing all those emotions is gunna -

"I know, I know, one day I'll just explode and no one will have seen it coming. Try not to be the trigger?"

I'm just saying, if you ever want to talk...

"Thanks," She responded sharply. That was the end of that.

...​

"I'll take that talk now," With a sullen smile, Sun rearranged her hair, fluffing it up in a half hearted ponytail before she pushed open the worn front doors of the little corner restaurant, immediately hit with the vibrant gazes of other employees and the steam and aroma of dumplings from the kitchen.

"You're late!"

"Tough morning."

"And where's your date?"

"He's..."​

 

[Valor]

​

---

Finding his target was usually the hardest part of the job. Humans were an inherently cautious species and generally they knew when they had become the prey. This girl, however, took no such precautions. Easily tracked in the broad, afternoon daylight, she moved across the opposite end of the sidewalk at the maximum speed of a turtle.

72 had no qualms with such a situation. Unlike some of his predecessors, he did not enjoy nor romanticize the duty of his job. The easier his kill was, the better. For him, there was no thrill in the chase, no twisted love for driving his sword into his victim. Sometimes, the young man would dream about a worthy opponent; a target that would best him and end this endless cycle of killing.

But it would not be this girl.

Or so he thought...

The assassin followed the woman as she moved across the streets with the finesse of a snail, biding his time for when she would take a wrong turn into an alleyway, or find herself alone in the dark corner of her bedroom. He eventually stopped when the girl disappeared through the entrance of a nearby restaurant. A local, hole-in-the-wall establishment that seemed to be quite busy considering the off-hours.

While the assassin contemplated waiting for her to emerge from the establishment, he knew better than to break line of sight from his target. Going in through the front entrance of a restaurant and immediately going out the back was the oldest trick in the "Evading Government Assassins for Dummies" handbook (style points if you manage to eat something on the way out). Besides, in such a busy restaurant, it would be easy to hide his identity. Nobody seemed to pay much attention to strangers in Japan.

Pushing the wooden door aside and stepping through the doorway, the assassin tentatively tossed his katana into a nearby umbrella bin. The fact that umbrellas that had the appearance of samurai swords existed and were popular with boys his age had seemed to come in handy in many cases and nobody ever seemed to question him carrying one around in public. As soon as his sword was in the umbrella bin, he turned to find a lot of people staring at him. Never before had the gazes of so many individuals been focused upon him.

"Um... Am I interrupting something?" He choked, nervously beginning to run his digits through his dark collar.​

 

[mango]

S O N N Y​

​

"He's..."

"Um... Am I interrupting something?"

Peering up from where she stood, Sonny sized up the stranger. He wasn't city slum, and certainly wasn't a familiar face, so no one would suspect a thing, nor was she likely to find herself contracting a disease. Snaking her arms around his right one, she just barely tugged him towards her (not that he was budging) and flashed a bright, fake grin towards the woman, her manager, before looking back to him. "Course not, silly! You are my date after all," She seemed to hold her breath as the woman observed them both, wrinkled old eyes smiling despite the total facade.

"He's as handsome as you said, though I could have sworn I heard you say he was blonde. My old ears must be failing me!"

"Must be," Hurt flashed across her face for a moment, her chest rising and falling as if she were taking a deeper breath, before that out of character smile broke out again.

"Well, come, take a seat." The manager told them cheerily, turning just in time to miss the scarlet flush washing down Sonny's face from the lie.

Turning rather abruptly, she made a face that mirrored exasperation, "I know this is weird, but can you just play along and I'll cover anything you want? Whole dinner, on me, desert, drinks, whatever. I can't say I came without a date it - it's just - it's very complicated. Please?" ​

 

[Valor]

​

---

The undercover assassin stood speechless in the tight, restaurant hallway as he watched the situation unfold before him. Unsure of what to make of the situation, he listened to the two figures exchange words and glances as he contemplated just how badly he had fucked up. It wasn't long until the older woman began pressuring them to take a seat, to which 72 immediately searched for the nearest exit. He may have practically wrote the "Evading Government Assassins for Dummies" handbook, but it seemed like he now was in desperate need for a copy of "Corporate Dating Games for Dummies."

The raven haired man prepared to make his escape when he finally realized that his dominant arm was being carefully guarded by his target. A sad, pleading look stretched across her face, the assassin had forgotten for a brief moment that he was supposed to kill this woman. Studying the desperate, hopeless canvas that stared back at him, 72 knew that he had been temporarily defeated.

"Alright. Say no more." He surrendered, knowing he had little choice in the matter. In the back of his mind, he quietly dreaded what Agent 12 would say about such a debacle. Would she laugh? Probably not.

As the woman led him across the restaurant floor and towards their seat, 72 began to immediately regret his decision. Social gatherings had never been the strong suit of a man that's never had a friend before. His face was beginning to burn in embarrassment as they made their way to a table in the corner of the restaurant. Why was he doing this? He planned to end her life soon, so why was he putting up with such an awkward and uncomfortable situation? For some of his more merciful kills, his victims had given him farewell letters for family, or requests for certain loved ones to be contacted, but this... this was on a whole new level.

"And here's your table. Don't worry about the business stuff tonight, Sonny. The both of you seem like you could use a little time to yourselves." The manager smiled, as if she sensed the awkward tension building up between the unlikely couple.

As soon as the manager had disappeared, 72's attention turned towards the knives that were placed on either side of their table. Reaching out for the knife, he decided that it was time to end this charade once and for all...

"Here."

Rather than a knife, he was incredibly surprised to find that his hands were firmly clasping the back of a chair. Did he... did he just pull a chair out for this woman?! 72's face burned fifty shades of red and back as he awkwardly held the chair open for his future victim, unsure of what to make of the situation.

This was going to be a long night.

​

 

[mango]

S O N N Y​

​

"I'll even pay for your fare out of - oh."

He said yes?

"Well... that's... convenient." She went blank for a moment, attempting to backtrack from the long line of promises - like her first born child and his personal redemption (none of which she could really provide but man did she need this date) - because he'd just simply agreed to help her. Is it because men love food or does desperation really sell?

"Here."

She continued to stand, combing her thoughts back in line, before she felt a bit of heat beckoning her acknowledgement. "Oh! Uh, sorry. I mean, thank you," Sun plopped down a little too eagerly, wincing as her bum was reminded they were not cushioned chairs but firm, worn wood.

She rested her elbows on the table, before realizing that wasn't attractive and instead, placed only her hands on the surface, delicate fingers spreading across the makeshift menus. "So, um, like I said, it's on me," She told him, offering a smile that looked slightly more at ease. "Friendly advice - don't get the red meat. The miso and dumplings are my favorite, I mean they're probably the safest thing here," She confessed, brutally honest and quite personally convinced.

Sonny seemed about to say something else when she heard a familiar voice echo from the kitchen, leading her to swear under her breath. Quickly setting up her menu like a wall on her exposed side, she hunched down, pursing her full lips as if in a sudden prayer. "Please please please don't come over here, you friggin' weirdo." She uttered this twice, before her wide, brown eyes peering from behind the folder, scrutinizing the doorway.​

 

[Valor]

​

---

"Oh! Uh, sorry. I mean, thank you,"

72's mind hung on those final words, the nonchalant display of gratitude that radiated from her lips causing him to focus his attention for a brief moment. The young woman probably did not think anything of it, but it had been the first time anyone had ever thanked him for anything. Remembering his job, he struggled to ignore the weight of such words, instead focusing upon the menu that beckoned his view.

"Sure. It's not a problem."

He replied, trying his best to reply in a suave and impetuous manner. That's what girls like, right? At least, that's what his scholarly experience with romance novels would inform him. As he sat in front of her, he tried his best to avoid eye contact, the tidbits of guilt slowly eating away at his conscience the longer his eyes stared in her direction. Still, he found it difficult to ignore her brown gaze, those vibrant orbs that stared at him so curiously.

"Miso... and dumplings."

He repeated to himself. The words were not foreign to him, but he had never tried such food before. The government did not give him money, nor did they provide him with any sort of food. He was provided with small meals known as military cubes, which were small, bite sized cubes of compacted nutrients. He was required to eat these throughout the day to maintain a scientifically perfect diet and Agents were generally prohibited from eating anything else. Food was becoming more and more scarce due to rebel activity, so resources had to be allocated accordingly - or so he was told.

Shortly after the two of them had placed their orders, 72 noticed the girl's eyes dipping behind her menu, as if she was hiding from something. Little did she know, the one person who noticed this action was probably the person she should have been hiding from at the start. The assassin was about to ask if she was alright, (the irony) when a lanky man carrying their food slipped beside them.

"Well, well. Look who it is."

The man remarked, unceremoniously dropping the two plates of food onto the dining table. The man was abnormally skinny, with unattractive, round glasses that hung off the bridge of his nose. 72 glanced up at the man, then back towards Sonny, unsure of how to react.

"Care to introduce me?" 72 blinked, waiting for his "date" to speak up.
​

 

[mango]

S O N N Y​

​

"No, I really don't care to," Resting her cheek on her propped up palm, the brunette turned her head, pretending to take a sudden interest in the abhorred cheap art covering a huge hole in the wall beside them. Her date was a little off -- but then again, they'd only just met and she'd basically bribed him to spend the evening with her. He was handsome, and kind enough not to let a girl suffer the embarrassment of being alone on a company date night, which was all she could ask for.

But this freak? He was in his own weird world -- in fact, he was hatched.

"Erwin, meet my date -- the man I'm trying to enjoy my night with."

"You accepted his offer over mine?" Scoffed the scrawny fellow, looking disdainfully between the two, before adjusting his glasses t take a more scrutinizing look at 72. Swinging his dish towel over his shoulder, Erwin flicked his greasy black bangs back, looking snooty. "He's hardly a man, he looks like a weakling -- but we all make mistakes. I'd be happy to escort him out and sit across from you tonight."

"I'd be happy if you stuck your hand in a blender," Sonny murmured, looking sullen as she met 72's eyes, mouthing a genuine 'sorry' with a look of embarrassment. Stabbing at her dumplings, the young woman looked like she was about to straight up die as Erwin leaned over, elbow resting on the back of her chair, creepy face looming over.

He asked her how her day had been.

She choked, eyes abruptly glossing over with tears.​

 

[Valor]

​

---

72 did not pay any extra attention to the stranger, his eyes gravitating towards the alluring array of dumplings that sat on his plate before him. Not well-versed in social situations, 72 had assumed that the waiter was just a friend of Sonny's, despite her obvious annoyance with his presence. Even when the tension seemed to steam like the dumplings on his plate, 72 dismissed the drama as playful banter between friends.

His interest quickly fading away from the stranger's insults, he navigated his chopsticks towards his meal, raising his gaze to find Sonny mouthing what appeared to be an apology towards him. He shrugged as he chewed on the warm dumpling he had placed in his mouth. What was she apologizing for? 72 didn't ask, nor did he mind the presence of the homely man beside him. It wasn't long however until the boy leaned in, whispering something into her ear. Noticing a tear beginning to well up in the girl's eyes, 72 swallowed the food that was in his mouth.

"I think you should go."

His voice was commanding, yet calm. 72 may have been a man of few words, but those softly-spoken words were more than enough to communicate the man's strong resolve. He dropped his chopsticks unceremoniously onto his plate, crossing his arms against his end of the table as he leaned inwards. His attention was now on the asshole who was actively attempting to ruin his dinner.

"Who do you think you are, kid?" Erwin growled, thrashing his arm outwards. Grabbing 72 by the collar of his jacket, the scrawny man pulled Sonny's date out of his seat so that he could glare at the man that had "stolen" his woman. "You don't want to mess with me, I have a black belt in karate!" He exclaimed eagerly, as if he had waited his entire life to finally make use of his McDojo martial arts. As 72 was pulled to his feet, the room fell silent, everyone in the restaurant now focused on the two figures standing beside Sonny.

"Huh? Scared? Answer me!" When 72 didn't say anything, Erwin began to thrust his fist at him. Punching him in the gut, then across the face. Upon the second punch, a small trail of blood ran down 72's nose. He couldn't remember the last time someone had hit him. "What's wrong with you?! Say something!" Erwin exclaimed, striking the man two more times.

"You punch like a child."

"W-what did you say to me?!"

"You. Punch. Like. A. Child" 72 repeated, this time slower. "When you hit someone, you should curl your fist and hit at an angle." He explained, curling his masculine digits into an iron fist. Without warning, he slammed his fist into the side of Erwin's head, instantly knocking him out in a single punch. "Like that." 72 watched as Erwin fell to the ground, the consciousness knocked out of him in a single strike. As he hit the floor, the crowd gasped in shock. It was then that 72 realized he had went a little too far.

"Uh... sorry. I didn't mean to hit him that hard." 72 frowned, doing nothing about the blood on his face. He was a little too used to facial injuries that he seemed to no longer notice them. "I'll leave now, yeah?"







​

 

[mango]

S O N N Y​

​

The stranger she'd introduced as her date remained eerily calm -- it made her stomach twist, he must have been a peaceful sort, and look what she'd dragged him into? Sonny wanted to intervene, but upon placing her hand on the table she lost her nerve, stomach reacting as if she were going over the highest peak of a roller coaster. Hands pressed to her mouth, Elizabeth watched on nervously, her brown eyes still glossed with tears -- her face flushed as the shouting on Erwin's end increased, she hated fighting and on tonight, of all nights. This never would have happened with... Oh, who am I kidding, Blue would've egged him on till his face was beat off.

But then the energy shifted, and Erwin went down.

The restaurant was silent -- the only other server they had watched on, disliking Erwin himself too much to help, but also realizing this was a law suit waiting to happen. The same message seemed to bounce from staff member to staff member, the manager finally stepping out just in time to see the server she'd contemplated letting go several times become one with their shoddy flooring. Everyone held their breath -- what would Sonny's date do?

I'll leave now, yeah?

"Why're you sorry?" Sonny peered over the table's surface, as if to make sure the guy was unconscious before her gaze flickered to 72's, eyes vibrant despite the fading gloss, though they dulled a little at the sight of crimson trickling down his face. Running a napkin along the inside of her water glass, Sonny gestured for him to sit down. "It was just self defense, right?" She said it a little louder than necessary, in an odd manner that seemed to send everyone else about their usual business, save for the cooks that came and dragged Erwin into the kitchen. She ran the napkin above his lip and then thanked an employee who'd brought her a frozen, wrapped piece of meat. "Here," She placed to it his face, as if to show him what to do. "Sorry about him."​

 

[Valor]

​

---

72's eyes glanced towards Sonny apologetically, despite her insistence that he had done nothing wrong. The young man plotted his escape out of the restaurant when the woman across from him suddenly beckoned for him to sit back down. As she brought her damp napkin towards his face, 72 hesitated, intercepting her wrist with the gentle grip of his own hand. He held her hand for a moment, staring into the woman with his dark, empty, orbs.

"It was just self defense, right?"

72 stared into her eyes a moment longer before releasing his hesitant grip on her wrist. "Not really. He was kind of an asshole." He remarked plainly. It's not like the concept of self-defense mattered to him. He was a murderer, after all. In his eyes, there was little justification for violence. As Sonny placed the frozen meat against his forehead, the young man found his cheeks beginning to burn in embarrassment. "Th-thanks." He replied, taking the frozen slab of meat into his own grasp.

Why was he acting like this? The rising heat burning his face counteracted the frozen meat he held against his forehead. You're supposed to kill this girl... the guilty reality nipped at his conscience. Most of the people he hard been ordered to kill were evil, selfish people - but 72 could not figure out why she had to die.

"Sorry about him."

"It's okay." He glanced over as several of the cooks dragged the man back into the kitchen. "I didn't mean to hit him that hard." He mused to himself, questioning his own restraints. Despite their best attempts to ignore what had happened, 72 could feel the persistent glares of those in the restaurant. Sonny had talked them out of taking action, but he knew that they were judging the two of them. As the boy awkwardly held the frozen meat against his head, he turned his attention back towards Sonny, whose eyes still looked as if they were on the verge of breaking.

"What about you? Are you alright?" 72 asked softly, wondering how she was feeling.







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