[ ♠ ] Bleeding Out « #killjoy »

[Aᴛᴏᴍɪᴄ.]

⚖ Ｊａｙｃｅ
[age: twenty-four // nname: blue, jay] - [location: mikabuyama; fukushima] - [element: metal]
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Jayce could have stared at the man for a while, his brows furrowing in utter confusion. Here the lad was. On the ground. Muttering things in a language that Jayce would never be able to understand unless he really got to know the other male. Along with identities came many things. He could pick apart languages as if he'd taken one class with it. He could speak a few words of the languages. He gathered information about cities, towns, other people inhabiting those cities and towns. All of it was to ensure that if somebody were to come up to him while he wasn't Just Jayce, he could better get away with it. There had been hypotheses made by Julian that Jay could even pick up some power absorption benefits but the other had left too quickly for the two of them to try it out. He'd been able to influence actions, and the two of them would have split the world in half if they could have. Unfortunately, the only thing that had split for them was themselves. It's how the world works, but more specifically, it's how Jay's world worked. He'd never done anything to try to change that. He was a man of the present. And presently, he had a bleeding Japanese man dropped on the floor. "What the..." Jayce shook his head, and the grin only developed into a confused smirk, "You don't have to do.. that." But it seemed like Daichi was going to do that anyways.

When the other stood, he continued to watch - sizing up the man for whatever walk they had ahead of them. He really wasn't liking the look of the shoulder, and he didn't really believe that it wasn't hurting. Jayce shouldn't care all that much, and to be honest, he wasn't sure if he really did care. Jayce took out his phone upon the question Daichi posed, seeing there to be that ever faithful lack of a signal. Wait! One bar. Oh, man. What did he do to be so damn lucky all the time? He immediately phoned the ship and a man going by the name Matthew picked up. "Aye, what's going on Jayce? You do your job yet? It's been more than two hours." Jayce was beaming, glancing over at his job who had started walking again. Jayce followed accordingly, "I do have the little guy. He's got a lot of bark and quite a bit pent up bite as well. Anyways, I was wondering if the motorcycles are on the ship?" Jay ran a hand through his hair, trying to fix what he could. It was a same that Dai had pressed him up against the tree like that. His hair must be doing everything he didn't want it to. "We've only got two, boss. Where you guys at?" Jayce looked around and raised a brow, "No idea, thanks for the help. I'll text you where to send them and wait for us there." When he hung up, he didn't want to look at the the other. If he didn't acknowledge the man's existence, he wouldn't have to worry about the wound. Oh well, Jayce had shot him for a reason. If he ended up passing out, Jayce would just have to drag the guy...

Oh boy. They'd been walking for quite a bit longer when Jayce finally stopped Daichi. The simple fact that Jayce hadn't a clue where they were was enough to make him worry enough. He could use his phone if worse came to worse, but he needed to keep it for emergencies. So the man held up a finger to his lips to keep Daichi quiet. Jayce dared to approach him, ignoring whatever foul expression that he might be greeted with. This time, Jayce was actually careful in his proceedings, standing behind Daichi to assess the wound in the back of his shoulder. "Don't throw a fit, I'm only checking on it. I shouldn't have hit it as hard as I did. Sorry," the sharpshooter sighed and hesitantly began to unwrap the soiled jacket sleeve. It was mostly useless now so he tossed it on the ground. The bleeding was troubling and Jayce cursed, not so under his breath as usual. This is why he didn't take people alive. He didn't know how to deal with the living dead. Should he care? Should he not? He didn't want to. But Townsend would be furious if Jayce let this man carelessly slip away due to a rusty shot. Jay reached into his pocket and brought out a small flask of whiskey, disappointed that he'd have to waste it on his contract. But he screwed it open and offered what might have been a warning. Alright, so he didn't actually warn Daichi as he tipped the alcohol over the wound. Using the sleeve of his flannel, he began to clean the area until he had a clear shot of the hole.

"Just, stand there and look pretty. This'll be fun," his eyes were concentration wrapped in a blanket of patience as he meticulously began to manipulate the bullet out of the wound. It was tedious work, but Jayce had done it more times than he could count in the military. People came to him with shrapnel and other wounds that they expected him to take care of. Eventually, the little bullet popped out of the wound and Jayce caught it, cleaned it off with some whiskey, and slipped the little beauty into his jean pockets. Perhaps one of the strangest things about Jayce was how casually dressed he looked right now. It was as if he'd known going in how taking Daichi would have gone for him. Almost as reluctantly as he'd shared his alcohol, Jayce pulled off his flannel and used his new knife to cut off a sleeve. Throughout all of this, the mercenary had been very careful to avoid skin contact so he passed the sleeve to the other to have him tie it himself. "The best I could do is clean it," he muttered with a small smile, "Use that and just be careful. Alright? No more pinning me to trees and making eyes at me, as hard as that might be. Anyways, I'm getting us a motorcycle. Where's the best place to meet us from here?"

[important]

⚔ ── ＤＡＩＣＨＩ　ＡＫＩＮＯ
xxxxxxxxxxelement: fire • age: twenty-five • location: gosaishoyama; fukushima

The second Jayce took out his phone, Daichi turned his head away, looking elsewhere. Even angled his body a bit away, arms carefully crossed in front of himself as Atkins took to his phone. Tried his damnedest to not pay attention to Jayce's words, but when he was inadvertently mentioned, his back immediately straightened. Little guy. Daichi scoffed at that one -- loud, too, to let Jayce know that he was listening and that he didn't appreciate it. But it was that next sentence that shot fury to his mind, though Daichi wisely let it go. Motorcycles -- that stole his attention, his fingers slowly uncurling. Daichi hated cars. Couldn't stand being in them or driving them -- they were closed up, small, cramped, and it was just asking to be caged and killed. So he gained two new modes of transportation: walking and motorbiking. If only Jayce had known that Daichi had a fair collection of his own motorbikes -- two his sister's, one his -- then they wouldn't have to be asking for outside help.

By the time they finally stopped walking, Daichi's vision had started blurring, fading in and out. Each down-step was black, his mind a mess of tangled thoughts and pain, each up-step a pure, hard white, stripping everything and telling him to keep going. He was losing blood, and the hit he'd received from Jayce's attempt to get an upper-hand over him didn't help the original wound. The fact that the bullet was still in there posed a problem, too. Each time his hips, shoulder, arm, or fingers would move, it'd pull tendons, bones, and muscles -- the small piece of metal furrowing deeper, tapping against the bone of his shoulder blade. A constant reminder, incessant and agonising. It took a while for his wandering eyes to find Jayce, a hissed noise of annoyance leaving him upon realising that they had stopped. Why? There was no reason to stop. Stopping meant more time wasted. Cleared the haze of smoke and fog from his mind long enough to let rationality and reality kick in -- Jayce was moving towards him. This caused Daichi to tense immediately, hating the fact that Jayce was behind him and he couldn't see what the hell he was doing.

But it was Jayce's words that followed that soothed Daichi's initial worry, a low hum sounding instead of a noise of protest. "I forgive you." But Jayce hadn't asked for forgiveness, you see. Daichi just gave it anyway. "Typically," Daichi began, words a bit slow to form, "when you take live prisoners, you typically want to keep them alive." Would have shrugged, had his shoulder not been torn into by a bullet. Snarled, though, when the fabric from the jacket was removed, and despite the pain, despite everything, he squared his shoulders, wanting to whirl around and see what he was doing yet again, but -- Jayce was just checking, he said. Cut out a sharp curse when he felt the burn of liquid -- no, no, not just liquid, water wouldn't do this -- tear over the bullet wound. Daire's least favourite curse, the closest English equivalent being f***. Oh, Daire would have slapped him. Understood, though, that Jayce was cleaning the wound, a soft noise that was a mix between a whine and a groan muffled by the sleeve of his shirt pressed to his mouth.

If Daichi had any idea as to what Jayce was looking to do, he would have stopped him. You get shot. That's your fault. So you carry that weight, that bullet, unless it's a clean shot. Daichi couldn't tell Jayce how many stray bullets he had littered throughout his extremities, the muscles and skin realising that it was there to stay so just simply... growing over it. He realised far too late that was Jayce's intention, feeling the piece of metal retract away from the bone and slowly slip free. Didn't protest now that Jayce was halfway through, and he'd seen how the other man had winced when finding and returning his blade from the woods. It must have pained him, and Daichi didn't want him to go through that just for his efforts to retrieve nothing. Once the bullet was completely gone, he carefully and slowly rolled his shoulder back, reaching back to touch the edges of the still-bleeding wound. Turned around, keeping his eyes averted before briefly looking to him. "You didn't have to do that. Thank you." Took the offered sleeve, trying to hide his smug reaction of using Jayce's shirt to hold himself together and his blood in. Tied it around his shoulder a bit tighter than before, looking back out. "Then don't shoot me." Paused, head tilting, though he still didn't look back to Jayce. "Making eyes at?" Had to assume the worse with this one -- it was Jayce. "We're about three and a half kilometres from Nakane no yu. From there, we can go to KItayaji. There's a hospital right on the coast." Even if they weren't going to be stopping inside of the hospital, it could still make for a meet-up for Jayce and whoever he was meeting, as the east coast was right there.

[Aᴛᴏᴍɪᴄ.]

⚖ Ｊａｙｃｅ
[age: twenty-four // nname: blue, jay] - [location: mikabuyama; fukushima] - [element: metal]
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"I know I didn't have to," Jayce shrugged, "Wanted to." He left it at that and glanced over at the man with his usual bright expression. There was a sheepishness to it that he couldn't have gotten rid of if he tried. Jayce didn't ever do anything that he didn't want to do. Killing people as a mercenary was sort of a pool of grey water for him. On one hand, he didn't actually want to kill all these people. But on the other hand, he wanted the information that Townsend and Irvin had stored away in the vault. One want massively overpowered the other. So, he killed people. And he just dealt with whatever came of it when it came. He didn't know the people he shot down. He only knew one night with them. So maybe he did know them, but it might as well have been knowing a dead person walking. And it would be ridiculous to form sentimental feelings for the dead. Jayce knew that their faces would never leave him, however. In the dark of night, they would flip over in his mind. Hundreds and hundreds of faces that he knew to some and sometimes no extent. This slide show of people had been disturbing his sleep since he was a child. The sharpshooter nodded calmly, and began to send a quick message to Matthew. So, it was set. They'd be meeting them soon, and Jayce would get to stop worrying. Because honestly, he shouldn't have to feel like worrying in the first place.

The man went right back to watching Daichi, his eyes shifting over the guy thoughtfully. "So," he finally said after minutes of silence, "What would America want with you? What makes you so powerful to catch the greedy eye of Mister Townsend?" He'd been wondering this quite a lot, actually. Daichi looked like a man that had a past which could rival Jay's. Honestly, Jay's own past hadn't been awfully special. Lot's of things had happened -- things he didn't care to talk about just as much as he wouldn't care to keep secret. It went along with his whole 'open book' resolution. However... Daichi. Daichi's past was a mystery to Jay, and it was one he desperately wanted to know. He didn't see himself getting the guy into bed any time soon to figure these things out for himself. He'd have to do it the old fashioned way -- conversation. Hopefully, his contract wouldn't adamantly refuse to talk. He had been getting a fair amount of responses out of the man, however. He was saving any mention of those two girls that he'd briefly seen when Daichi had touched him. He knew from experience that things didn't bode too well when you blatantly spewed out things that you ought not to know about somebody. But he wished he knew who those two were. Shiro and Daire: Deceased.

That had been the only thing to flash through his mind. He didn't even have faces to the names. It wasn't just that, however. Jayce desperately wanted to know about this man's time in the military. Jayce missed it, but he knew that being part of it had slowly been ruining him. He'd been turning into a stranger as every day passed while serving. He'd taken up smoking again, for one thing. And now it was harder than ever to stop himself. Like an anchor holding back a ship, he was tied to the unhealthy habit like he was tied to so many others. "When they told me that I'd be coming to Japan, I was shocked. Makes me wonder what you can do with those flames of yours. Not asking you to show me, but, why didn't you use them? You'd be amazed how great of a counter my element can be." Jayce paused, thinking about the flames that the male beside him could summon. The heat from the the fire licking near Jay's face before had been almost unbearable. He wouldn't doubt that Daichi could melt his metal if he really wanted to with flames that hot. The way they had bit into the tree.

Jay had this hypothesis that the nature of your element was widely influenced by the kind of person you were. Jay's metal was careless, almost having a mind of its own unless he specifically gave it a shape when he created it. It came in small bursts, and it had its own warmth to it that normal metal would not. He wanted to know Daichi's flames almost as much as he wanted to know the man wielding them. He forced himself to stop watching the other, keeping his gaze forward as the cooler air bit into his bare arms. He took off his own sleeve that had been stopping his own wound. There was a dull pain that was still a memory, but as he dropped the white fabric to the ground there was no wound underneath. His powers had done their job, and all that was left was a wicked scar -- the only thing that was ever left. Just Jayce had scars all over his body as his wounds never went away and never would. Scars lasted forever on his body as his own biology was so self manufactured, things didn't work the way you'd always expect. "Sharp knife. Pretty scar," he muttered, looking down as his shoulder to touch the memory he'd keep with him.

[important]

⚔ ── ＤＡＩＣＨＩ　ＡＫＩＮＯ
xxxxxxxxxxelement: fire • age: twenty-five • location: gosaishoyama; fukushima

All they were missing was a nice spread, a low table, and some tea between them. Jayce was trying to stage conversation between them, something that Daichi certainly wasn’t used to. With him, it was all curt orders followed by curt answers. Yes ma’am, no ma’am, yes sir, no sir. Anything else and you might as well wish you were dead. Politeness, yes, that was a part of it. Respect and all of that, but for the man who stood behind the name that Daichi only knew him as sir wanted power. So he’d assumed the habit, and used it everywhere. His sister, especially -- and she would never stop him. Daichi had turned the title on Daire, who had immediately shot it down and went into a long explanation of why she didn’t want him to call her that. But -- questions. Right. "I thought you’d be the one with the answers," he muttered, eyes briefly drifting over to Jayce before quickly turning back to the path ahead. That was an odd thing to think about -- being wanted for something that wasn’t a crime. Well, Daichi didn’t commit crimes necessarily. Just did his job and did it well. Which, apparently, killing people was a crime. Did you know that? He sure didn’t until he was stopped by the law enforcement for shoving a sword through the broken chest of a man right in the middle of the street. Who would have thought. "This man," Daichi began, though didn’t slow his pace by any measure of means, "why do you work for him, if you use such… low words to describe him?" Shouldn’t you honour your employer? Oh, but Jayce had already told him that he had no honour.

If Daichi knew that Jayce could catalogue memories, he’d be entirely more engrossed in the man. Akino struggled to shove most of his own down, but some of them, the ones he wanted, wouldn’t stay with him. That’s why he didn’t touch the house. Left it be, terrified of forgetting what any of it stood for, had meant, or had served as. And the pictures, those helped quite a bit. A piece of him wished for that infamously rumoured photographic memory, but Daichi would know nothing about it. He saw things, then he forgot. But you put him in the middle of the scene and show him how to fight? Nothing leaves him, everything stays and he’ll make it out alive and on top. More questions. What did this guy want? Daichi flicked his eyes up and to the right, a slow sigh leaving him. "Why are you so worried about it? You read my file, didn’t you?" Daichi asked him with a sneer, turning to face him. But Daichi supposed he could at least address the part of Jayce’s question that he could answer. "I’d rather knives. Blades. Daggers. Swords. If it has an edge, I’m quicker to pick it up. Fire isn’t tangible." He paused, twisting his hand out in front of him, as if grasping for something that wasn’t there, before flames burst to life between his fingers. You can’t control fire. It was the most volatile element -- there was nothing that could contain it.

Daichi had learnt something over the years about the flames that he possessed, however, despite not really caring for using it as a weapon. Fire needed only three things to live and stay alive: A spark, fuel, and oxygen. Daichi served as that spark, starting the fire and controlling it. As if it was his gods-given right. He was no god, Akino was well aware of this, and he made sure not to flaunt the power for that reason. But it was not the first reason. Daichi could jump the spark and spread it, keep it alive, and bend it at his will. End it. Change it. He could cause the flames to jump, to spread, to consume, destroy and take everything down with it. A little noise of need left his throat, audible in the span of silence that surrounded them. With one curl of his hand, he could take the entire forest down. A twist of his arm? Well, it was nice knowing you, Planet Earth. But of course, that was to his discretion. And why would Daichi destroy everything right now? One by one. Level the crosshairs, breathe in, hold the trigger, breathe out, shoot. Hated guns.

"Earlier," Daichi finally spoke, a finger tapping the air in front of him, "You did something earlier." Paused, trying to collect the words he could to try describe what Jayce had done. Altered himself, took on Daichi’s face, his person, everything. He spoke through Daichi’s mouth, but it wasn’t his. His voice, but not his words. "What? Why? Why me?" Why his face? Pressed a hand to his cheek, remembering that small glimpse he caught before carefully pressing his blunt nails into his skin, growling softly. Flicked his eyes to Jayce when the cloth that he’d tied around his own arm, his own wound, fell away, blinking in surprise when there was no blood, no wound underneath. Self-regeneration, maybe? Now it made sense as to why Jayce had been so all right with Daichi taking a shot against him. Because Jayce could heal it -- Daichi could not. All of his wounds were mortal. His hand dropped from his cheek to touch his hips, his blades, watching Jayce for a long moment before forcing his eyes away. You don’t look at a scar and think it pretty. They were horrible, horrible reminders of your own mistakes that were too far gone for you to fix. So for the American to think them pretty? It was laughable.

[Aᴛᴏᴍɪᴄ.]

⚖ Ｊａｙｃｅ
[age: twenty-four // nname: blue, jay] - [location: mikabuyama; fukushima] - [element: metal]
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"You would think that I'd know the answers, wouldn't you?" he repeated with a little shrug, "Unfortunately, it's not my place to know who I kill and why I'm killing them. Townsend knows that he can't keep me from figuring out who the targets are after I head out. But all I get before that is a small file and a picture." Jayce held up a finger and began to search around in his pocket. When he found what he was looking for, he pulled out a wallet and opened it up. Like an accordion, a band of photographs spilled out of the leather wallet. Faces of strangers stared back at Daichi as he showed the man. In the envelope at the very top was a picture of Daichi Akino, himself. It wasn't too bad of a photograph, either -- really captured the target's frown. He was wearing military garb and Jayce would have no idea where this picture was taken and how it got to Townsend Industries. That wasn't important. All Jay needed was a glimpse, and he had the face memorized. He took the pictures because he'd gotten in a habit of taking them, but he hardly needed them. There was quite a lot of things that had gone wrong in Jay's head when he was bored. It was like the world had given him a photographic memory to compensate. He hadn't mined it. He used to feel like he was cheating in school. His best mate broke his back studying for exams so he could grow up and not kill people in the medical field. Jayce could take the same test after studying for an hour and pass with flying colors.

That's just how the cookies crumble, though. The next question threw Jayce for a loop, and he stored his wallet away quietly -- thoughtfully. In the end, Jayce hummed a bit before answering, "I could say that it's complicated and leave it at that... But I suppose there's a few reasons. He's not a man of good morals, but he looked after me after I graduated high school. He used to be close to my birth parents before they died in the military before me. But mostly, he has something that I want more than anything else. Vengeance is one word for it." His grin turned dark and he was looking at something -- possibly someone -- that Daichi wouldn't be able to see. Yes, there was definitely motive in all of Jay's actions on the worst of days. On the best days, he was simply doing things carelessly, without any deeper meaning. He had no idea how he felt about William Townsend. Some days, he felt like the man was the only person that Jayce could fall back on. Others... he felt like he was being played a fool. However, with no other leads but the ones Townsend and Graves promised him, what else could he do? He was stuck in time, and he would be until he could properly move on from his past. But he couldn't do that while Zeveran Baxter was still breathing... somewhere. Months. He'd been doing this mercenary crap for months now, and ever day he felt more and more like a trained wolf than the soldier he used to be. It would be fine. He. Was. Okay. "... you gotta keep that s**t eating grin on your face so you can leave the crying for wimps like me." Jayce laughed quietly to himself, moving fingers through his hair. Alright, man.

"Anyways, I know your file. I read it. But it was the vaguest piece of crap file I've ever seen. Townsend must know something, otherwise I must be wasting time. I'm going by the hope that you're secretly a dragon or something. Because you were almost too easy to take down," Jayce laughed, bringing his hand down and stretching his fingers out to avoid the need to do something with them. Jay nodded in understanding about what the man claimed of blades over his powers. Jayce would grab a gun over his powers any day of the week. He'd already described in detail how they made him feel. He loved the things. He loved the noise. He loved the simplicity. He loved how powerful he could be behind the trigger. A gun was your best companion when nobody else was, and Jayce found himself deluding to the fact that his pistols really did have personalities. It was the curse of the lonely sociopath that weapons begin to feel like partners. You felt them breath. Heard them talking to you. But it was usually just your own voice and/or thoughts doing the talking. He liked to play with his metal, though. He made things with it. Sometimes, he made beautiful knives out of precious metals that he had access to just by thought and immense levels of willpower. Other times, he fashioned small figurines and sold them to stores, passing them off as hand crafted treasures. He used to make metal dogs for this kid named Nathan when he was fifteen. Then his older brother found out and Jayce almost lost a finger. That devil of a man really did hate Jay's guts. He missed Griffith, sometimes. Sometimes. Most days, he just missed the rivalry.

Having fallen down into a well of his own thoughts, Daichi's voice pulled him back to the surface. "Huh?" His small voice was still distracted but he managed to catch what the man had asked. Oh. "I cast an illusion on you that would show you the person you loved most in this world. Kidding. Even if that were true, something tells me that yourself would be the last person on that list for some reason." He pushed his hands into his pockets and really just wanted a pen or something. He would try spinning metal between his fingers but that always took too much effort and it didn't satisfy his cravings. Namely, his obsession with having something to do with his hands on a near constant basis. But he kept them still, clenched tight in his pockets. "I can steal people's identities. Looks. Voice. Memories. My power goes down to a biological level whereas some people can only give off the illusion that they've changed. That might explain the new scar of mine. I can't do it unless I've shared skin contact, however. You were so kind to do my job for me." He mimed and mimicked the hand blade to his throat from earlier. When he was done Jayce instantly slid his hand back into his pocket and looked up at the other. "So. Daire and Shiro. Are those the people on that photograph? Were they important to you?" He didn't dare ask how the two of them had died. Baby steps, Jayce. Baby steps. It would be a while until he could ask those types of questions.

[important]

⚔ ── ＤＡＩＣＨＩ　ＡＫＩＮＯ
xxxxxxxxxxelement: fire • age: twenty-five • location: gosaishoyama; fukushima

But Jayce wasn't here to kill Daichi -- he'd figured that one out rather quickly. If the non-lethal target of his shoulder was anything to go by, then Jayce's attitude and reluctance to do anything to act against him sure as hell picked up the slack and showed him that. A picture. Daichi blinked, holding a hand up, hovering in the air in front of him but not moving further. Looked at the photographs that spilled out from the man's wallet, all concealed and bound by plastic. When his eyes finally drifted over his own picture, his gaze flicked immediately away, hand falling to his cheek as he stared at Jayce. "The photographs, do they serve as sentiments?" Sounded almost accusatory, but he hadn't meant that. Just curious. Daichi caught the presence of OD in his photograph out of the corner of his eyes, him taking a step back and away from Jayce. What else did Jayce know, other than his photograph, name, and place of residence? What all did the company know about him? Clearly enough to want him. His fingers curled into a fist, Daichi setting his jaw and looking Jayce straight in the eyes, looking the man over for a long time.

Made him wonder what else they'd pried into in regards to his life. Just how much did they know? Enough to get him killed? But his attention was snapped, grabbed, and held at that one word. The word that his very blood beat for, his pulse speeding up. Daichi's wound felt the affects of it, blood trying to push out and against the shirt, but held, for the most part, in by the flannel. "Setsujoku." His fingers twirled, him smiling grimly. Knew that term all too well. And for the good part of his life, that's the force he lived under. But now? Daichi had nothing left. Nothing left to rain that vengeance down on. He was a terribly vindictive person, but the only people he had left to rain that down on were those who worked against him. Like this Townsend Industries that Jayce spoke of. That would be a nice place to start. Fingers twitched, pressing against his hip as he thought it over. Whatever they were looking to ultimately do with him, they'd end up regretting it -- and Daichi was going to make sure of that.

"Easy to take down?" he snapped out, his entire body tensing at the thought of repeating that earlier action of shoving him against the nearest object. Except there would be no gaining an upper hand over him this time. But, no. He didn't. "You shot me, Mister Atkins." Not all of them had a biological plaster to slap down over a bullet wound and mend in a matter of hours. "You'd be easy to take down, too, if I got the first shot." Well, scratch that. Had Daichi been given the first shot, Jayce wouldn't have had a chance to fight back -- because he'd be dead. Daichi shot to kill -- always. The only time he hadn't was when he was taking prisoners, and that was him following orders. Out here, he was his own man and had to follow no other man's orders. "Memories." Daichi lifted his eyes, staring at Jayce for a long moment. Jayce had memories? Looked down to the man's arm that he motioned to, then his neck. What did Jayce have? What did he know? Picked up on? What memories did he gain? Daichi touched his face again, once, twice, three times before scowling, looking away. "So you chose mine?" Why not someone else? Was it just to prove a point?

He couldn't breathe. His throat was constricted at the slam that resulted from those two names, spoken aloud -- by a complete stranger. Daichi's mind had been so focused on building barriers from outside threats that it had no idea how to handle the ones that originated from the inside. But he remembered, his hand slipping into his pocket, touching the photograph. If there was anything that he couldn't forget, the two of them definitely hit the top of the list. But he didn't want to forget. He pulled the picture free from his pocket, looking over it for a while, running his thumb over the corners. "You saw them." Jayce said he had memories. Surely he had these, and that's how he knew. And, well, there was no harm in offering a bit more to that memory, now was there? Maybe if he gave it Jayce, then it would serve as a backup. In case he ever forgot. He turned the picture over, pointing to the girl on the left -- Daire. She was American, holding blonde hair and bright green eyes. In the picture, she was laughing, her arm wrapped around the other woman's shoulder. "Daire." Swallowed thickly, moving his finger to the figure on the right. Shiro. Her expression was an odd thing -- smiling, yes, but it was clear that this was not typical on her usual stone-cold expression. The only picture he had of his sister actually smiling. She had long, dyed white hair, tied neatly back behind her head in a bun. Her eyes were dark, not unlike Daichi's own. "Shiro." Her name -- it meant white to begin with. So the hair colour worked a bit hand in hand with that. Daichi held the picture out to Jayce, lifting his hand a bit and taking a few steps closer, hovering his fingers over Jayce's exposed wrist. "Can I..?"

[Aᴛᴏᴍɪᴄ.]

⚖ Ｊａｙｃｅ
[age: twenty-four // nname: blue, jay] - [location: gosaishoyama; fukushima] - [element: metal]
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Sentiments. Jayce didn't know whether or not the pictures in his wallet were sentiments. Sometimes, he forgot they were in there for the most part. And when he did remember, he didn't need to look at them. He wouldn't need to look at them. Their faces were already ingrained in his memory. It's sort of like a class yearbook. Page after page of faces. Some of them, he knew well. Others, he didn't. But he could take any single one of their forms if he needed to. He could pick and choose. Andrew King's eyes. Owen's scar. Wyatt's mess of curly hair. Julian's face. He could wear them all at the same time and look like some sort of circus freak. He never did that, however, unless he was copying somebody's eyes briefly. For Jayce, changing into somebody was an all or nothing occurrence. An ode of respect to the people he knew so tenderly. And God, how he had known them. Their dreams. Their families. Their insecurities and doubts. Their greatest moments mixed with their darkest moments. Jayce watched Daichi touch his own face again and smiled kindly, "I suppose you could call them sentiments. Even though calling them that would be redundant..... This man," Jayce pointed to an American man with wavy blonde hair. His skin was fine and he must not have been over twenty-three.

He looked like a college student. Mainly, because he was a college student. "Daniel Frye," Jayce dipped his head, looking at the photograph, "He was going to be at the top of his class, along with his twin brother. But his brother, who'd never surpassed him in high school, was flourishing in college. Great grades. A great girl. Even a few new friends. Daniel was worried, because they hadn't enough money to keep his brother in college. It was the happiest Daniel had ever seen Book so one desperate act led to another, and from dealing drugs, he started working for Townsend. Dealt weapons to gangs with the money to buy them. It's a nasty underhanded business, Townsend Industries. A poor kid like him should never have had to get messed up in all of it. But he did get messed up in it, and soon he'd messed up. I was given the orders to shoot him down three and a half months ago." Jayce slammed the wallet shut, and slipped it back into his pocket. He'd known both of the Frye twins in high school. Daniel had been one of his closest friends, so he hadn't needed a night with the man to know all this about him. He only needed a file and an order. Jay hadn't seen Booker Frye since it happened but he knew that the brother had stopped attending classes. An irrational coldness settled in Jayce, and he cleared his throat to watch the other cautiously.

"Now now," he went back to grinning, "Don't go throwing a tantrum. I know plenty well that you could kill me in one go. Simply giving you a hard time." He was about to continue walking when the other didn't seem to be finished with Channel Jayce on the television. He didn't really mind, so he patiently listened. However, it wasn't much to listen to as Daichi's voice came out in small little increments. He caught the names of the two girls slip out of Daichi's lips, as if he were struggling to say them without choking. Jayce took a step forward, brought on by a blasted wave of sympathy. Both Jay's eyes fell on the photograph, first on the American girl. She was beautiful -- blonde, green eyed. It was the smile that worked Jay's emotions. And the smile on the girl's face next to Daire solidified Jay's emotions. He knew them to be special to this man, and when he tore his eyes off the photograph, he could see something distant in Daichi's eyes. But Jay also caught a hint of fear, though Jay would have no idea what the other could be afraid of. Losing them? But they were already lost... "Can I..?" The mercenary blinked, eyes snapping down to the hand near his wrist. What did he want with Jay's powers? Most people he knew avoided contact with him as soon as they knew what happened behind Jay's closed eyes. Even Jayce avoided contact when he knew he was to be around somebody longer than a night. He didn't connect with others. He couldn't. Not him. For a mix of reasons: he shouldn't be allowed to, he didn't know how, it always brought pain. Every working cell in his body was telling him to pull his wrist away and continue doing his job -- silently, this time. But it was that one percent. The one percent that craved to know people so he could forget himself. That one percent had him pressing his wrist into Daichi's fingers.

The reaction was immediate, and the sharpshooter's eyes fluttered shut as they had before. The inside of somebody's memories was messy. It was like trying to swim in a pitch black tank of tepid water. The current threw you about, and all around you, there were voices. Voices of people he would never know as well as he could know Daichi. And each second, Jayce felt like giving into the angry current. The water was so damn warm. If he just... If he just stopped tying to swim for his life.... And Jayce stopped struggling. He sunk deep, getting swallowed by a darkness only to be spit out into a bright and foggy memory. Like a ghost, the mercenary lingered and watched on. There was a girl - young and beautiful, with a smile on her face as somebody next to her said something which must have been amusing. And on the side, Jay's gaze fell on a young boy. He couldn't have been older than- A little phrase went off in his mind. Daichi Akino: Ten years old The same snippet of information repeated for the girls and Jayce learned that this was to be Shiro's thirteenth birthday. He felt wrong, being here where it must have been such a private moment for the trio. The young boy was grinning at the distorted sound of their voices. Jay hadn't known what he'd been expecting but it hadn't been a happy memory like this. He could have watched it forever, stayed in this opaque world until he suffocated. But it seemed that the memory had other plans, and splashes of dark collided with the image. A man came crashing into the room, and while he couldn't understand the exact words, Jayce could understand the anger. The fear. The destruction. Atkins wanted more. He needed more. A desperate voice called out to Daichi not to let him go, and he couldn't tell if that had been said inside the memory or outside.

Outside. What outside? He was content being in here, where the emotions were so tangible that he could feel them pulsing around him. So warm. Somewhere along the way the memory of the birthday interrupted by who could only be a father had been drowned out by that dark warm water. Jayce was aware that he was swimming again, trying to catch his breath. He shouldn't be here. He had a job to do. Willpower alone caused Jayce to snap his eyes open. However, when he came to, he was much closer to the Japanese male than he had been before. One of his wrists was still being held by Daichi but Jay's other hand had taken to cupping the side of the other's neck - almost desperately. His heart was pounding in his chest, and his neck craned downwards so that he could look at the other from such a closed off distance. With a hand still touching his wrist, and Jay sill trailing his fingers over Daichi's neck -- he could hear voices. He heard the sharp tongue of a father. The angered shouts of a daughter followed by what might have been crying. It was hard to tell. Jayce only knew that he'd sampled a taste of what Daichi had to offer, and he found himself starving for more. No. Not good. Pull back, you idiot! He listened to the voice in his head, and ripped himself away from Daichi as if the other'd been hurting him. And who's to say that the memories hadn't hurt Jayce? His breath was shaky, and a nervous hand flew up to his hair as he calmed himself down. "Y-you didn't te... tell me how amazi- mazing that would be... Don't do it again. Please."

//sorry, its a bit longer than the usual cx

[important]

⚔ ── ＤＡＩＣＨＩ　ＡＫＩＮＯ
xxxxxxxxxxelement: fire • age: twenty-five • location: gosaishoyama; fukushima

His eyes, his gaze held fast -- never once leaving Jayce, even when he'd shut his own eyes. A part of him was apprehensive -- was he really about to let the man who shot him and looked to sell him back in chains inside of his mind? Why yes, yes he was. Besides, it was too late for second guessing and changing minds now -- Jayce met his touch, and was doing what Daichi had to assume was sifting through the tangled cluster of memories. His thoughts were always neat and singular -- goal driven. He was given an endpoint, and didn't care about the means or methodical approach that it would take to get there. Those factors, those personal touches typically worked themselves out along the way. How was he to have any idea as to what memory Jayce chose or found? Gods help him... a part wanted to yank back, to break the connection, but the prospect... he couldn't. Even if the physical contact that didn't entail some act of violence was slowly setting an infuriating, yet soft, ringing throughout his mind. What if Jayce got a hold of the wrong one? He wasn't worried, no... Just didn't want the wrong information to fall into the wrong hands. Which -- why should he trust Jayce? He'd shot him for gods' sake. No honour in wielding a gun, that voice hissed at him. But Daichi had already tried to explain it to Atkins -- which wasn't unlike teaching maths to a pool of water. Useless, pointless, and very clear that nothing would be gained through it.

He held good and bad memories that held both Daire and Shiro -- the good ones typically the earlier ones. As the three of them grew up, that unrelenting force that only shared blood and no heart with his two children was desperate to break up the closely knit together friendship, shoving a wedge especially between Shiro and Daire. When they were much younger, Shiro used to drag both Daire and Daichi out into the forest that was nestled behind their first home and straight to the river. That's where the three had staked their original hiding place -- a way away from home and someone where only they knew where it was. And that easily became Daichi's second home, going there even after Shiro and Daire both lost interest in the place. That was where he'd been heading before he'd earned a bullet to the shoulder and the presence of an American man telling him that he would be leaving. Daichi could read the fine print, though, and knew that there would be no coming back. That was why he grabbed the picture -- otherwise, if he knew that he'd be coming back, he wouldn't have.

Somewhere during the exchange of memories and past, Jayce's hand flew to Daichi's neck, the fire element lifting his chin and reaching up with his other hand to hold Jayce's wrist -- terrified that the man's fingers weren't there for just stability and more contact to dig deeper into whatever memory he'd been thrown into. Heart beat sped up immediately, Daichi trying to ignore the fact that his throat was threatening to close on him as he watched Jayce. He had to tilt his head up quite a bit to look up to him given the distance (or, rather, the lack thereof) between them, Akino still having a hold on both of Jayce's wrists. When Jayce finally snapped back, yanking away and freeing him from his touch, Daichi's hand flew to his neck, touching the skin there and dipping his head, eyes closed as he sucked air back in, clawing at the skin with blunt nails. Paused when Jayce finally spoke, staring at the ground before flicking his eyes back up, looking to Jayce for a long time before narrowing his eyes. Conflicting words. Typically, if you found something good (what word did Jayce use? Amazing?), you didn't want to refrain from letting it happen again. Was this all just some sort of joyride for him? "What did you..." he trailed off, dropping his hand away from his neck and taking several steps back from Jayce, putting a more comfortable distance back between them.

[Aᴛᴏᴍɪᴄ.]

⚖ Ｊａｙｃｅ
[age: twenty-four // nname: blue, jay] - [location: gosaishoyama; fukushima] - [element: metal]
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Jay's breath was still uneven and if Daichi could see the inside of the sharpshooter's mind, he'd see the man going over that memory on loop. He'd be able to feel the mix of bittersweet emotions that Jayce had gathered. However, most of all - he'd just hear Jayce cursing internally - over and over again. He was angry at himself for falling into the man's memory as deeply as he did. Anything could have happened to him. Daichi could have killed him on the spot and he wouldn't even know. He'd die in blissful ignorance. Not only that, but now Jay's mouth was dry and his tongue felt swollen in his mouth. It was the same sort of feeling he'd receive after going more than four hours without a cigarette. He craved to delve deeper and exist in the other's head while memories washed over him as naturally as the sun lit up the sky. Heart pounding, he fell back against a tree and brought his hands up to his face - rubbing out his troubled expression. And when all was coherent for him once again, he fell silent, brought his hands away to hang limply at his sides, and just sort of stared at the other man. He'd seen him as a child no older than ten years. He'd seen his sister, hair as white as snow. And he'd also seen sweet, beautiful, Daire - her smile able to light up the room like no other. It could possibly be brighter than Jay's. Actually, no. Jay's smile was pretty damn bright. He was smiling now, even. It was small, and arguably, one could say he was just passively staring.

"What did I see?" Jayce finally spoke, his words much calmer than they had been. He brought a thoughtful hand up to his hair, pushing and prodding it into place. The job was impossible, and he gave up on his hair like he always had to do. What sort of world was it when you were obsessed with how your hair looked even though you knew there was no way to tame it? A sad world. One sad world. Daichi had been a part of that sad world. He knew that there was much more to the bloke than he let on. Daichi was a passive and unreadable face masking a world of hurt. Perhaps the mask was so thick that Akino couldn't even feel the pain anymore - much less anything else. How hard would Jayce have to work to pull the mask off and reveal the humanity beneath. He wasn't sure, but he wouldn't spend too much time wondering. This man was a contract and nothing else to him. He was to deliver him to Townsend with a shiny red ribbon and that would be the end of it. No matter how much Jayce craved to know more of the other, he would control himself. It was the light switch technique all over again. He simply had to turn off all his feelings. "I was a guest at a birthday party, Shiro's. It was her thirteenth year of being quite alive. You were ten, and I must say Daichi - you were much cuter back then. It was a nice memory. Sweet, but dark in the end. There was a man, tall and angry. I didn't get a good look at him and his words, though they were in Japanese, sounded harsh. Was he your father?"

The subject of family had always been a bit of a roller coaster for Jayce. If you were to ask him who his parents were, he wouldn't know how to answer. Not now. Not after he thought and slaved over the idea of what a real family should have been like for a child growing up in America. He knew things were different in Japan, and the idea intrigued Jayce. He would like to know more about the relationship this Daichi fellow had had with his father. As a man with three last names, Jay would refuse to call the the man belonging to the name Porter his father even though he'd been in Jay's life longer than any of the others. And he wouldn't know how he would describe his relationship with Donovan Atkins. His birth father hadn't been around long enough to offer any sort of evidence as a dad, either. The most he received from James Holland was a legacy and a fetish for guns. Family. To Jayce, the word was subject to change. There could be no real description he could offer as he'd never belonged to a real family. Perhaps that had been what screwed him up in the end. He grew up fast, and he had the weight of the world on his shoulders to bear. He did alright with the weight. After all, he was a truly happy man despite everything. He could always find good in things, yes, even Gabriel Porter.

"We should... keep moving. I'm sorry," Jayce dipped his head as he pushed himself away from the tree. The sun was beginning to set and if they didn't get a move on, the two of them would be keeping each other company on a night time stroll. It really was beautiful here, and Jayce rarely experienced life outside of a bustling city or town. When he wasn't taking on a job, he was in Las Vegas - gambling away and getting as rich one day as he fell poor the next. But he didn't mind. Jayce wasn't somebody that coveted money like a hound. He never had been. It was only because of the surprise statement in Gabriel's will that Jayce had assumed ownership of the mansion that sat on the top of the hill in the County. Wait. Scenery. Trees. Those weren't important. He cursed as he shook the distractions out of his muddled brain. He'd been in the middle of an apology there. Stepping beside the other male, Jayce forced his hands into his pockets once again to pull out a packet of cigarettes. "I don't usually fall that hard into memories. Yours was more vivid than others. That tends to happen when they're left untouched for long periods of time. They wouldn't be marred by false images and fabrications of an imaginative mind. It was raw... I... am probably making zero sense right now. Do you mind if I smoke? Nasty habit, I know. But it keeps me in check."

[important]

⚔ ── ＤＡＩＣＨＩ　ＡＫＩＮＯ
xxxxxxxxxxelement: fire • age: twenty-five • location: gosaishoyama; fukushima
Jayce had relaxed significantly if the man's body language and posture were anything at all to go by. Nodded at his confirmation, Daichi himself unable to formulate the words necessary to ask it. Curiosity -- Daichi had never been a strictly curious person. But this was different. His arms crossed over his chest as Jayce began to speak in terms of the memory that he'd touched, Daichi leaning against the tree opposite so he could listen. Birthday part. Daichi's head tilted, resting on the bark as he listened, trying to remember the event. Thirteenth birthday -- he was ten. For the life of him, he couldn't remember. Snapped his teeth when Jayce called his ten-year-old self cute, daring to glare at him. Tall and angry. That was how most people characterised his father when the man was alive. "Kurosawa Takeo. My father." Akino's eyelashes fluttered before closing completely, head shaking. Didn't remember what his father looked like -- and was glad for that, too. Daichi folded his last two fingers down, the other three held out to form the shape of a gun, levelling it with Jayce's right eye. Closed one of his own to symbolise aiming, folding down his first finger and kicking his hand back with a grim smile. "I don't like guns."

Daichi's family had been a broken thing. His mother, Natsumi, had been thrown into the world that she never understood the second she took to Takeo, his father. Takeo wasn't outstandingly heartless, no. It was obvious that at one point in time they both loved each other. Well, that's what he'd been told by Shiro, at least. Daichi's memory always seemed to fail him on points that happened in those earlier years, him having to rely on written accounts, pictures, and the things he'd been told within the past five years. Natsumi died shortly after Daichi's eighth birthday. How she died, he couldn't tell you -- couldn't remember, and Shiro never spoke about it. But Shiro stepped up to the plate, helping guide a younger Daichi through everything before Takeo got a hold of her, shaping her into the mould of excellence, proper discipline, and strict obedience. Daichi? He refused to bend a knee -- paying the price for that mistake.

When Jayce finally pushed off the tree and prompted for them to keep moving, Daichi nodded, turning his head down as he did the same, his hands folded in front of himself. Flicked his gaze to Jayce's hands when he reached into his pocket, fingers brushing across his knife belt before realising that Jayce wasn't after a weapon. No, cigarettes. Daichi's hand flew up to his mouth, eyes flicking away. "I'm sorry." How else was he supposed to respond? Like he'd told Jayce earlier -- he wasn't a sentimental person. Daichi slid the picture back into his pocket, still pressing and alternating pressure on his lower lip with his thumb before giving a slow nod. "That's... fine. Can I..?" broke off promptly, hissing a bit and refusing to look at Jayce. Shiro -- she'd been the one to throw him into that. Had only smoked a total of five cigarettes in his lifetime, hitting a hard recession and refusing to touch another since Shiro's death. But with the path he was on, he'd already thrown, trashed, and forgotten her jacket, displaced a piece of her house, and would never hope to return. He had nothing left to lose at this point.

As they began walking again, Daichi threw a glance over his shoulder before back in front of him, his chin lifting a bit as the hotel that he'd mentioned earlier -- Nakane no yu -- began to draw into view. Daichi lifted his uninjured arm, pointing to it. "Right there," he murmured, looking back over to Jayce. "Are they already there?" Daichi asked, his fingers twitching as they kept hovering, tapping, and brushing against his blades. Was itching to spill blood, yes, but at the same instant -- he knew that these men were Jayce's, and if they were to drop at Daichi's hands, then Daichi would be able to hold to the idea of such a... comfortable transition to the United States. But it was the prospect of it all that sent energy shooting through his veins, anticipating and adrenaline sparking that flames to crawl over his hands and fingers, picking up, stopping, drawing across his skin in arcs, waves, and patterns. "Do they know who I am?" What I could do to them if they even so much as think to cross me?