Current mood:	bored
Current music:	Chihiro Onitsuka - Gekkou

I am God's Child (cont.)

[setting: the streets of the city right outside the spaceport]
[time: 9:05 pm]

*The man from Reuel's previous vision steps out of the spaceport gates and takes a look around the streets. It's easier to see him now-- he's an Asian man, rather tall, and wears a plain white shirt with a black tie and black pants. He carries a large suitcase, labeled with travelling stickers, as well as another smaller case devoid of any identification at all.*

Man: *sighs with relief* Finally. I can start over.

*He takes a few steps forward, towards a street corner, and is almost immediately surrounded by armed refugees.*

Man: ...or maybe not. o.o

Reuel: Welcome, Paitien. *smirks* What brings you to this great city?

Man: I think you must have me mistaken for someone else. ^_^;

Reuel: You know I won't fall for that one. Cutting your hair doesn't make you unrecognizable, Lang Paitien.

Man: I swear, I don't know who this "Paitien" person is. My name is Richelieu du Plessis.

Reuel: A pseudonym. You can't change who you are-- you are Lang Paitien, son of Lang Yichao, the scourge of our planet.

Richelieu: Assuming I was Paitien-- and I'm not --couldn't by-gones be by-gones? ^.^;;

Reuel: If you hadn't killed nearly a third of our population over the years, perhaps. But not now.

Richelieu: I see. Uh, so...

Reuel: Prepare to die, Paitien.

*Reuel rushes at him quickly, throwing a punch. He dodges under the swing, dropping his luggage. The smaller case, as it hits the ground, splits open, revealing a well-polished trumpet.*

Richelieu: SHIT! That's the third case this week!

*Reuel stops his assault, mesmerized by the trumpet. He picks it up, handling it evenly in his gloved hands.*

Richelieu: Be careful with that!

Reuel: ...a woman gave this to you. A woman who meant a great deal to you.

Richelieu: I don't know how you knew that, but yes, that's right. Now quit the gypsy voodoo and give it back.

Reuel: You met her on Mars... she played the saxophone, and you learned to play the trumpet so you could both be in the same band.

Richelieu: *dashes forward and grabs the trumpet* Give me that!

Refugee: < Enough of this! Sir, what are we doing? Having a nice chat with the Lang?! >

Reuel: < ....fine then. Fire at will. >

*The refugees raise their weapons and charge them. Richelieu glances about nervously.*

Richelieu: Damn it. No other choice.

*And in the blink of an eye, he's gone. Just like that. One second he was there, the next... nothing but his suitcase.*

Refugee: < Damn it! He used his Lang ability to teleport out! >

Refugee 2: < He can't be far. Sir? >

*Reuel, however, is staring up at the sky, his expression unreadable.*

Refugee: < Sir? >

Reuel: All he wants is to be an ordinary man.

Refugee: < Sir! What are we going to do? >

Reuel: *curtly* < Wait for another flash of knowledge. >

Refugee: < But-- >

Reuel: < Are you questioning me? >

Refugee: < ...no, sir. > *salutes*

*The refugees scatter, mumbling to themselves.*

Reuel: Why am I so reluctant to kill this man? He's Paitien, of all people. I hate him from the very marrow of my bones.

*A pause.*

Reuel: *sigh*



And Lang would be the same kanji as Ookami, both meaning wolf. Heiten, mentioned in previous posts, is a perversion of the Mandarin "Hei-Tian", or Black Sky, the Japanese equivalent being Kokuten.

(Hakuten and Kokuten. Hee hee hee.)