Death of a Shadow... Broker?

[Nesirae Croíscáth]

Deimos was standing in front of his manor in Athens. Hades, he hated this place. The memories here haunted him, clung to him like the scent of rancid meat. His pale brown eyes stared, heavy lidded, at the grand oaken door. He braced himself mentally as he limped towards the door. Upon entering the foyer he was greeted by the servants. "If I am needed, I will be in my study... Bring the children to me. As well as the father. There are things I must discuss with him."

In the study, he sits in the ebony wood high backed chair. It was more of a throne, the way it enveloped the tall man's sickly frame. Leaning his cane against the cherry wood desk, Deimos closes his eyes. He knew not why everyone saw him a villain. Everything he did was to protect his sister. Ending their father's tyrannical rule and his cruel abuse. He provided for Demetria... or Ciel as she called herself now. He was rewarded with injury and threats. He called for a servant. "In the fireplace in the main hall. There is a parcel for me, left by Demetria. Retrieve it for me." He leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes, waiting.

[Jake Leeson]

Jake sat watching over Alastor and Salina Areleous as they played on the floor. Areleous... how he hated that name. Everything about that name reminded him of Deimos whom he despised more than anything else in the world. The only reason he hadn't tried to kill him up to this point was that he knew the life of his children and their mother were in the man's hands and if Jake didn't succeed in killing him cleanly, he would lose the last reasons for his entire existence.

Jake growled faintly and chased the thoughts out of his head as he turned his attention back to the children. It was almost surreal how they had grown so much in what was only four years... On the other hand, those four years had been hell on Jake. Every day since he faked his death to the one person he cared about seemed to be excruciatingly long. They stretched on endlessly, never seeming to end.

Jake was snapped out of thought as a servant came into the room and requested the presence of Jake and the children. Instead of waiting for his reply the servant would go to the children and coax them up before leading them out. Jake's eyes narrowed as he watched the servant, who failed to notice the gaze. He wanted to chew them out but knew that doing so would do more harm than good. If Deimos had ordered it, it would either happen, or other more unthinkable things would.

Jake resigned himself to following the servant as they lead the children and him into Deimos's study. There the children would shuffle about as children do, unable to remain still unless being talked to. Jake however would be standing very still with his eyes cast in Deimos's direction. Ever since Deimos started making use of Jake's abilities, Jake had taken to wearing clothing that covered his frame. The reason being that the extensive use of his ability to raise the dead had a profound drawback on it's wielder. The more Jake summoned the dead from their eternal rest, the more his body began to show the toll it took upon him. At first it started with his left eye. The iris and pupil vanished under a layer of white that gave his eye the appearance of that of a zombie's or a blind person. Eventually it became more apparent as parts of his skin began to peel and crack as it appeared to die off. The first bit started on his face and then began to work it's way down. Now it claimed most of his left arm, and part of his right. There were times when Jake wondered if continued use would eventually lead to his death after it finished turning him into a corpse.

Here within the manor however, Jake made sure to show his face. He wanted Deimos to see the result of his work. Even if Deimos liked to see the pain he felt he was causing Jake, Jake made sure Deimos would have to gaze upon his hideous face and that ever piercing blank eye.

After a moment of silence Jake spoke softly. "You wanted to see me boss?"

[Nesirae Croíscáth]

Opened his eyes when he heard the children come in. He watches them, a soft smile on his otherwise stern features. "I did, Jake. Our person of mutual interest, seems to have found a plaything. A reaper. I'd not worry for her safety. It seems rather fond of her." He leans his elbows on the desk, putting his head atop the back of his hands. "Please, have a seat. We've a few things to discuss." Looking to the servant he scowls. "Now leave. You are needed elsewhere." He sighs, watching the children, still.

"I have had... disturbing dreams, as of late." He turned his eyes to Jake. "I have seen my own death. As you saw her attack, and she saw your abomination. It will come soon. So we must prepare." He grinned, and watched Jake's reaction. Oh, how he did love seeing the agony on the other man's face. He loved the physical effects his gifts bestowed upon him.

[Jake Leeson]

Jake's expression remained flat as he listened to Deimos talk about the reaper. Inwardly the word plaything caused him some concern. He had heard that she had changed during his time at the asylum but he had yet to see it fully for himself. He wondered if he'd even recognize the person she had become. At least he took some comfort in the fact that she seemed to have friends out there who would watch over her. As he was asked to sit Jake moved over to the closest seat and gently sat himself down in it, leaning slightly forward as he kept his attention on Deimos. Inwardly Jake regretted the departure of the servant. Despite the fact they worked for a sick bastard (Which he did too and was aware of that) they were still something of a reprieve from the enraging presence of said evil bastard.

Then he heard something he did not expect. First that Deimos was having dreams. Weren't dreams a sign of having a soul? It was hard to believe that the thing he was staring at was even remotely human or capable of feeling anything but amusement at the misfortune of others. The nature of the dream however piqued his curiosity. Jake did his best to hide his interest, retaining a neutral expression as he listened to Deimos attempt to jab at him. When Deimos finished, Jake turned his head to the left a short distance and tilted it on that axis to the right. This caused his jaw to point at his left shoulder while his forehead to shift slightly towards Deimos. His eye however remained locked on the other man. After a moment he spoke up. "As you might recall, neither she nor I were able to stop these events from happening, regardless of seeing them before hand and trying.... Do you feel it will be different this time boss?"

Jake wanted more than anything to grin. If his dreams were anything remotely like the ones Ciel and him had had, Deimos's days were numbered. That was the best news he had heard since Ciel had told him she was pregnant.

[Nesirae Croíscáth]

Deimos laughs softly. "Not in the slightest. I know when a dream is false, and when it's a vision. My death will come on hands of bone. Though I only know soon. I do not know exactly when. Nor would it matter if I did. We need to get things prepared for transfer before it happens, however." He opens one of the drawers and pulls out a manila envelope with two words written on it, in black ink. 'Shadow Broker.' He sets the envelope on the desk and slides it towards Jake.

"My death would be followed by all that money that Demetria receives end. Poverty would strike her like Hephestus striking the anvil. So I am going to transfer my businesses and accounts to you. You have served me well these past four years. It is time for your rewards." He smiles softly once more, but it didn't reach his eyes.

[Jake Leeson]

Jake perked a brow as he listened to Deimos's acceptance of his own death. Strangely, despite how much faith Deimos seemed to have, Jake always thought that he would bite and claw his way out of death. To here that he was simply resigned to it was alien all together. Thankfully he didn't get the chance to concentrate on the thought for too long as the envelope was slid over in his direction. His head tilted to the side as he read the words mentally. Shadow Broker... Wasn't that what Deimos thought of himself as? What did Jake have to do with it?

He instantaneously regretted the question even if he hadn't actually asked it out loud. The first sentence was to be expected, but still caught him off guard. He hadn't put any thought behind the fact that it was Deimos who supported her, or at least hadn't since he announced he was going to die, which had set off a little party inside Jake, even if he was good at masking it by now. The thought of her going bankrupt however was a chilling thought. The second sentence only served to strike it home, though Deimos probably knew that and had done it intentionally. The third... That one was the one that threw him off. Deimos was transferring his accounts.... to...Jake?... WHAT THE FUCK?

His mind simply drew up blank at those words, unable to process them in any shape or form, and it showed. Jake was great about hiding happiness, anger, depression... complete and utter confusion however, that one slipped free to the extent of almost forming words on his tongue. Jake merely blinked blankly at Deimos, as if he had suddenly told Jake that he was really the nicest person on the planet. Jake's mouth slowly fell part way open and stayed that way until Jake realized what he was doing and slowly closed it back up.

He tried to start off with 'Thank you boss' but it didn't quite work out as he intended. "W...what? Y.... Me?" He tried to process the thought some more and failed utterly. Finally he closed his eyes and shook his head, finally coming to his senses but still unable to actually compute what he'd been told. "Th...Thank you?" Given the look on his face it was clear his reaction was born entirely out of shock rather than any unwillingness to be polite.

[Nesirae Croíscáth]

"I've been dying since I was very young. A slow death of disease. I relish the idea of death via combat." He leans back in his chair. "All of my dealings. From the front businesses, to the covert missions I've set you on, and the information retrieval. I only ask one thing in return, Mr. Leeson. Take care of her. Everything I have done, has been for her. I perform the evil that she is too pure to contemplate."

His next smile was full of regret. "What I did to you, was for her well being. I regret having to do it, but never will I apologize. As your final reward for the services you have provided me over the years... You may tell your children who you are to them, and who their mother is." He looks to the envelope and lays a slim silver pen on top of it. "This pen was my father's. Our real Father's. The man I killed so many years ago, was our mother's husband, but not our father. This information, I will let you do with what you wish."

[Jake Leeson]

Jake vaguelly recalled Demetria having mentioned Deimos had been ill, but he didn't recall anything about the man dying. It started to make sense now why he was not fighting this death. He had to agree that a quick death was preferable to a slow and drawn out one, though he still struggled with the idea of allowing Deimos that luxury. He stayed silent as he listened to the man. The more Deimos talked the more Jake wondered if the man was having another sick and twisted laugh by shattering Jake's mind with his explanations. On one hand, Deimos's motives were similar to Jake's own... but Deimos had taken it too far. He had done unforgivable things that had hurt too many people. Finally Jake would look down as Deimos asked him to take care of her.

After he finished, Jake would give his reply, albeit muted from the shock that had slowly begun to sink into him. "You don't have to ask me to take care of her Mister Areleous. I would think it should be obvious that I would do anything for her..." He looked at the pen as he spoke, thinking about what he didn't say. The object seemed to pull him in with a surreal gravity to it, though Jake for the life of him did not understand why. It further shattered his perception of things. His mouth eventually fell open again as he tried to process what he'd been told. Jake hated it, but he knew that even if all of this was a lie... It inevitably would not be so far from what he would end up telling Ciel and the children, when he figured out how he would do that. Jake would probably put his own twist to it... but he felt that, after all this time, Ciel's soul deserved some freedom from her torment...

[Nesirae Croíscáth]

"My legacy will not in any offspring. My Legacy is not even my money, or my business. Ciel... Demetria... She is my Legacy. I have broken her, this is true, and I know it. But though she was broken, she must be tempered, like a fine blade. She is more than a weapon to me, however. She is the only family I have. She is going down a path I can not follow. I have hurt the both of you, been cruel, evil. Harsh. It is because I know you can rise above what limits you have set yourselves. I'm sure, in time, that the deformities your dark gift gives you, will fade the more you learn. The more you realize the gift doesn't have to own you. You own it. Make it your's! Help Ciel make her gifts, her own. We were given these abilities to do something. What that is, I can not pretend to know." He picks his cane up, also laying it on the desk. "You may take the children and go. I have some private matters to attend." He closes his head, leaning his head back. "One more thing, Jake... You are the only one I see worthy of her. Thank you."

[Jake Leeson]

Every word was like a knife to Jake. It was pulling him in two directions. He could understand what Deimos was saying, but he didn't want to believe him. How much had he destroyed in her life? How many times did he interfere and pull happiness just out of her reach? Then there was the job... Here he was claiming to do anything for her, but hadn't the man threatened to kill her? Where was he then? Was it all just a bluff? Was it part of Deimos's scheme to rip her away from him and him from her?

On the other hand, hadn't Jake agreed to it? Hadn't Jake done so many horrible things in the name of protecting her? Hell even his final act was beyond low. He had faked his own death and tragically destroyed her with his parting words... Though it wouldn't come without a cost. Her own words would haunt him for the rest of his life, spurring him on to do whatever it took to make sure she was okay. It was because of those dark things that he had taken up an interest in the Samurai ways. Even though he could never fully incorporate them because of what he had done, the thought of being her stalwart protector was a calming thought. It also taught him a valuable lesson in how to defend himself. In some way he owed Deimos, even if he hated his guts.

Despite his claims of family, Jake still couldn't bring himself to accept the degree to which Deimos took things. Sure Jake had done some pretty terrible things himself, but he never intentionally hurt Ciel like he had. He tore her life apart at the seems and left her to bleed out until all she could feel was a cold emptiness inside her. It had broken her more than the man who claimed to be their father. Jake was nowhere near this caliber of evil.... Nothing he could say would convince him otherwise.

When Deimos finished talking, Jake gave a sigh. "I don't know what to say other than you have my word that nothing but old age will claim her... Even if it means staying back... She'll continue to live. I guess I can understand where you're coming from... I too would go to great lengths to protect her." Jake offered the best smile he could manage between the distaste for the man and his shock. Finally he reached out to take the envelope and the pen before walking over towards the kids. He would mutter something softly to them before standing up to look at Deimos one more time, giving him a nod of his head in parting and a wave.

Afterward Jake would step out the door, making his way toward the front door of the manor and then over to the parking lot where the black Suburban was parked. Barring anyone stopping the man, he would open the rear doors and lift the kids up into the suburban, strapping them into their seats before shutting the door. Then he would turn around and look back upon the building. In the span of what could only have been less than twenty minutes, he had had his world turned upside down for the third time in his life. After a minute he would make his way to the driver door and let himself inside. Once inside he'd buckle himself up and start the truck before slowly pulling out onto the street. He wasn't sure where he'd go... but one thing at a time.

[Thanatos]

Keeping balance, the act of knowing when to allow chaos and when to put a stop to their chaos to give peace for a little while. Thanatos if asked would give the same answer to any one who asked. "It is one of the hardest decisions to make in the world at times.. And at times it is the easiest. Do not let it falter you though. What seems easy could just be a disguise.."

Thantos had been walking for days, nonstop heading straight for Greece once he left Germany. Ever since the meeting with Deimos in Greece and ciel telling him the stories of her he decided to see if it was his time or not. He had found out enough that he was a monster that caused to much chaos in his time. A period of peace was in need, even for as short of a period as it will be. Peace in this world can not last for longer then it is needed to balance every thing.

Slowly he made his way to the mansion, the light had died down as the sun set. Darkness enveloped this world. In darkness is where he did not have to hide under a disguise. Each sickle hanged off of a loop from his belt, his armor did not glisten under the moons light as it brightened this side of the earth as little as it did that night. His sickles blades did however.

Morrigan sat on his shoulder, resting for the night he felt bad that he soon would have to wake her to do his job. The mansion was in sight he walked up the driveway, the robes are armor made it look as if he was floating instead of walking. He gently nudged morrigan until she took light. The birds wings made the distinct noise of a dove taking flight as she perched her self in a nearby tree.

He walked up to the door, slowly opening it he could feel the pull from the air rushing into the house as he opened the door. He closed the door behind him as he quietly walked through the halls. He found the study and slowly opened the door. Stepping inside he closed the door behind him, turning he stared at the man behind the desk. Slowly he drew the sickles and walked slowly towards the man.

Stopping a few feet from the man he slowly raised the sickles, crossing his arms at his chest he spoke softly. "Ciel is sorry, but I am not.." He waited a second before quickly and fluidly bringing both sickles down towards the mans neck, one slightly lower then the other. They would slice through his flesh and bone with ease, decapitating the man.

[Nesirae Croíscáth]

Smiled to himself as he finished writing a letter to his sister, stating his inevitable death, and what her inheritance would be. A few moments later a servant arrives with his parcel, which he promptly stashed in his desk. He pulled a set of keys out of the top drawer and placed them on the desk's surface, staring at them. Wondering when his reaper would appear. He checked his watch. "Late, it would seem..."

Many thoughts raced through his brilliant mind, as he settled accounts and got his affairs sorted, last minute. He wanted no funeral, no wake. Simply cremation and spread to the winds. There was nothing for him in the cold ground, and no one would mourn his passing. Not truly, not anymore. He saw to it, that his death would have little meaning to Ciel. He knew he had to be the monster no one else wished to be.

As the door opened to his study, he smiled softly. "Even if you may wish to walk, until your feet turn to dust, I implore you take one of my cars. An Ashton Martin perhaps?" He sets his cane on the desk's surface and shakes his head. "No... Ciel would not be sorry. Demetria would." He closes his eyes, accepting the sharp end at the sickles ends. His head rolled along the floor only to stop in front of the mantle. His body slumped in it's throne-like chair as the strength and will of life ended in a flash of blades.