Chapter Twelve

The Birthday

Uploaded on 3/13/07

Warnings: This chapter especially has graphic violence and angst.

Note: We want to thank everyone who reviews/gives feedback; we cannot stress enough how much we love/appreciate them and the people who take the time to write them. This chapter is kind of a major milestone in this story and we're dying to see everyone's opinion on it. We get really caught up in the characters and sometimes we forget that not everyone knows/understands them as much as we do so it's important for us to know that all thoughts and actions are clear to everyone else other than us XD Comments on this chapter are especially wanted! Also, please note that this story is like a disease. It gets worse before it gets better. XD but trust us, please.

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It was the end of November and Sin was slightly mortified that someone had put up Thanksgiving decorations in various places around the compound. He wondered if this was some pathetic attempt to make the Agency seem less like a life sucking void and more like a normal job; if it was they had failed miserably. Paper cut outs of fat turkeys, which were extinct as far as he knew, did not a welcoming environment make. If anything it was just a sad reminder to the fools who actually cared about such things, that holidays were no longer important when you had no living family members to celebrate them with.

He stood in front his apartment and stared at the thing that was stuck to his door. It was a cardboard decoration of some sort that looked like an odd horn with fake fruit stuffed inside of it. He stared at it silently for a full ten minutes as he searched his vocabulary in vain for the word that would describe such an odd creation. "Cornucopia," He murmured out loud and pulled it off the door.

'All employees of Johnson's Pharmaceuticals are formally invited to a Thanksgiving feast this Thursday, 11/21/19 at 5pm, in the main cafeteria.'

Sin stared at the thing and began shredding it into small pieces. He did not know what had possessed someone to stick this to his door, of all people, but he found it mildly offensive. He wasn't even American. He tossed it on the floor and swiped his card key in the door, opening it and entering his apartment. The lull of missions had not ended yet and he did not have qualms with admitting that he was quite bored. In the past month and a half he had participated in a grand total of three missions and none of them had been very exciting. He spent most of his time exercising, reading or roaming the compound when he was alone. He'd begun leaving his quarters more often of late and he wasn't entirely sure why. He thought maybe it was because the other agents had grown almost used to his presence in the past two months and he no longer concerned himself with getting into a situation that would land him back on the fourth. It may have also been because he would frequently spend time with Boyd.

He walked across his apartment and leaned against the wall so that he could stare out the window. A few months ago, he'd sit in the dark for hours and his mind would remain perfectly blank in an almost meditative state. His sole purpose had been for killing and for avoiding the box; he had not cared about much else. People had seemed like inferior beings with overly active moral codes and emotions; he'd had no desire to be near them or to speak to them. He found that he still felt that way but for some reason he'd begun interacting more. His preoccupation with his partner had not diminished at all in the past month. If anything, it had grown. He found himself thinking about Boyd at odd times, even often wondering what he was doing when they were not together. When he exercised or read, when he grew bored with that and sat staring into space for hours, he found himself pondering what Boyd did in his spare time, what he read or did to get through the long hours of the day that were filled with silence and inactivity. He wondered if Boyd went out, if he spoke to people outside the Agency and most of all, he wondered if Boyd wondered these things about him. He didn't particularly like this new, needy aspect to his personality but it wasn't an entirely unpleasant thing. No one else seemed to notice the change within him and to everyone other than Boyd; he was as coldly sarcastic as ever.

Sin slid down the wall and sat on the floor, staring into space silently. It wasn't only the sudden interest in his partner that alarmed him, however. It was more startling that he'd begun to act different when they were together. He'd often feel his mouth falling into actual smiles, not sarcastic little smirks. He'd begun to joke more than was necessary and if that wasn't disturbing enough, he'd realized several days ago that he looked at Boyd differently at times. After twenty eight years of not feeling anything other than anger and emptiness, there were times when his gaze would linger on Boyd longer than was necessary. When his eyes would focus on Boyd's mouth or eyes and he'd feel the stirrings of some odd, awkward emotion deep within his stomach that had nothing to do with protectiveness or amusement. He didn't know what it was and he didn't like it so he'd stamp it down cruelly and excuse himself immediately whenever it occurred. He was not going to allow himself to get caught up in those strange emotions again; he was not going to have a repeat performance of the incident in his apartment after their last joint mission.

The reason he'd called Boyd over had been strange in itself; the aggravation at the thought of Boyd being angry with him had been frustrating and persistent. It'd been a ridiculous way of trying to make peace, as odd and out of character as that was for him, but he hadn't been able to help it. When he'd been at such close proximity to Boyd, holding him against the wall, he hadn't been able to help the strong desire that had arced through him. He'd wanted to touch Boyd, wanted to press himself against that slight body and taste those full, pink lips. He'd never felt that way before, never had those kinds of desires, he'd gone nearly thirty years without feeling lust or attraction and in that brief moment it'd swelled up inside of him and boiled over. Shame burned through him at the thought of it, the memory of his lack of control and ridiculous behavior, and he was thankful that it had never been mentioned again; it was as though it'd never happened and he was pleased that way. He didn't understand why these feelings were consuming him and he didn't want to; he wanted them to go away and to stop complicating a situation that he'd grown comfortable with.

He'd begun reminding himself nightly that he was behaving extremely out of character. He was a tool, a killer, he'd been trained to be one since he was eight years old and that was the only reason he was still alive today. He was not on this planet to enjoy the company of others, he was not on this planet to laugh and smile. He reminded himself that emotional attachments were for humans and everyone at the agency made it very clear that he was anything but.

Sin ran his fingers along the carpet idly. Everyone at the agency except Boyd, of course. He closed his eyes and felt relieved that Boyd had been called away on a solo assignment to meet up with Andrews. It allowed him some time to sort out the confusion that constantly clouded his brain.

His lips quirked up into a sour smile as he recalled the brief meeting with Carhart before he'd gone. Apparently Andrews would only agree to the meeting if Sin was not there, he wanted nothing to do with "that savage". The words did not sting him, he'd grown used to these insults long ago, but he'd noted that at the time he'd not been pleased at the idea of Boyd going alone. He thought about the meeting some more and suddenly remembered something that Ryan had said quietly to Boyd as they left the conference room.

'Man it sucks that you have to go on assignment. Isn't your birthday on Wednesday?'

The concept of a birthday was somewhat alien to Sin. He couldn't remember celebrating his own and was somewhat unsure as to the actual date of it; he suspected that it was some time in April and he knew that he'd been born in 1991, but that was the extent of his knowledge. Despite that, he knew that other people sometimes considered them to be joyous occasions that called for celebrations and he wondered mildly if Boyd was one of those people. Somehow he doubted it but at the same time, he had trouble dismissing the date from his mind. His eyes wandered over to the manuscript of Paradise Lost that sat on the small table in front of the couch and his mouth twisted slightly. It occurred to him that he could get Boyd a present but the idea irritated the part of him that desperately wanted to end his attachment to the blond boy.

He banished the thought for the moment and walked over to the kitchen, making a dinner for himself out of chocolate chip cookies and potato chips. He stared at the sink blankly and automatically shoved the junk food into his mouth, attempting to adopt his old meditative mind frame and failing when his thoughts wandered right back to Boyd's birthday. Even if he were to get him a gift of some sort, which he wasn't, he had no idea what he would get or how he would get it. He needed clearance to leave the compound by himself and he didn't think gift shopping would be approved. He was only allowed in certain parts of the city unsupervised and those areas were not the kind where shops would be, not that he particularly relished the idea of being around throngs of people anyway.

He finished his dinner and wiped his hands on his shirt. It occurred to him that other than the fact that he knew Boyd enjoyed reading classic literature and poetry, he knew next to nothing about the boy. It nagged at him for a moment and he rationalized that it was because Boyd seemed to somehow know very odd things about him. He liked to be on equal footing with the people around him and he was on anything but that with Boyd since he barely knew anything about his background or life before coming to the Agency. Sin had the opportunity to read Boyd's file long ago, but he'd never intended to maintain the partnership so he'd barely glanced at it. He didn't have access to the files anymore but he knew someone who did.

Sin tossed the empty packages into the garbage and strode out of his apartment again, heading out of the building and towards Complex C. He was almost out the door when one of the guards stopped him.

"Where you headed, freak?"

Sin stared at him impatiently. "What do you care?"

The guard shrugged and didn't seem particularly interested in a confrontation. "I don't really, I'm just bored." He eyed Sin's attire skeptically and looked out the doors. "The temperature is in single digits tonight, guy."

"Your point?"

The guard held up his hands and looked exasperated. "Forget I said anything." The look on Sin's face made it obvious that he planned to do just that. The guards at his complex often treated him that way as of late, they no longer seemed particularly hostile although they were always wary but now they seemed almost curious about him and the lack of bloodthirsty rampages that they'd heard so much about.

The cold stung his face and went through his thin clothing but he showed no outward signs of discomfort and strode towards Complex C uninterrupted. The guards of that complex gave him more of a hard time, but they had no real reason to deny him access to the building and had no choice but to let him pass. He ignored the elevator and took the stairs two a time to the fifteenth floor, to apartment 15H.

He noticed that this door also had been accosted by the hideous cornucopia and he took the liberty of destroying it as well. After it was sufficiently shredded, he knocked on the door. Someone from within the apartment shouted 'Coming!' and there were clattering noises before the door swung open without much delay. He was surprised that an agent would be so careless as to open their door without so much as pausing to look through the peephole, but he supposed it was fortunate for him. He didn't particularly enjoy the idea of standing in the hallway, trying to explain why he was there or dealing with anyone's overactive paranoia.

Ryan stood in his doorway in an oversized red t-shirt and baggy boxers. His hair was sticking out in every direction and he had a can of soda in one hand. He stared at Sin with an expression that could only be described as a gape and opened and closed his mouth several times. "Hsin!"

Sin raised an eyebrow at the usage of his real name.

Ryan reddened. "Errr-Sin!"

He raised the other eyebrow.

"Hsin?" Ryan squeaked in confusion.

Sin gave him a flat look and strode into the apartment, not waiting for a formal invitation. "Give me your keycard."

"Um? What?" Ryan blinked at him and closed the door. He looked around his apartment, turned even redder and then hurried over to his desk, closing his laptop hurriedly. He'd stopped behaving awkwardly around Sin after the first several weeks but he still maintained a generally flustered air when he was in his presence.

"Your keycard. Give it to me."

"That's not really um-allowed…" Ryan stammered, eyes wide as saucers as he gazed up at Sin.

Sin stared at him silently and held out his hand.

"Well when are you going to give it back?" Ryan asked in an almost whiny voice.

Sin supposed that it was very fortunate that Ryan would most likely never be questioned by an enemy if this was the extent of his resistance. "Shortly. I need access to personnel files."

Ryan opened his mouth to question him further but the look on Sin's face shut it instantly and he settled for just looking extremely curious. "Um… well, I guess. My access code is um…" He looked mildly embarrassed. "0666." He pulled the card out of his pocket and handed it to Sin. "But first can I-"

Sin was striding out of the apartment again before the younger man had a chance to complete his sentence. He took the stairs once again and decided that this building was most likely designed identically to his own, which meant that there was most likely a public computer lab and lounge area on the third floor. He was pleased to realize that he was correct, and even more pleased to see that it was entirely empty. He took a seat at the back of the lab and swiped Ryan's card, waiting for the screen to load.

It welcomed Ryan Freedman and asked for the access code. Sin punched it in and stared at the screen for several moments before figuring out how to get to the area of the database that he wanted. His own keycard was limited to unlocking specific public areas of the compound unless they temporarily increased his access and even then it was limited to accessing mission files that he was specifically involved in. Ryan on the other hand, apparently had free run of the entire database.

He typed in Boyd's name and found the folder instantly. There were subfolders within it and he took his time, going through all of them. He went through all of the files and images of certificates from academic awards and contests that Boyd had received through the years. Sin noted that Boyd had graduated high school early, skipping to college courses at the age of 15; Sin had never been to school himself but he figured that was very impressive for someone so young.

He only skimmed through the information about Vivienne but took his time reading about Cedrick Alan Beaulieu, a journalist and aspiring author who had perished during the bombings in New York City while covering the story. There was an entire subfolder dedicated to Boyd's father, and he read every document and went through every subfolder. He was down to the last one when he noticed another subfolder within it labeled "HV"; he opened it with mild curiosity. It was a video file of some sort and he leaned forward with a raised eyebrow, assuming it was a clip of something regarding the man's career. The file extension read, "Uploaded 11/15/07, last accessed by Vivienne 4/28/10" and he grew even more intrigued to note that the Bulldog herself had accessed these files.

---

A beach appeared on screen, the color slightly faded as the scene jumped and fizzed out. A moment with just the scratching and clunking of large fingers fiddling with little buttons and the beach reappeared with a jolt, clearer than before.

"All right," a man's voice said from behind screen, smooth and low and sounding very proud of himself. "I got it working!" The last was said louder, a triumphant call, and the camera shifted quickly to the right.

The ocean pushed its waves to the sand, little laps at the feet of a boy standing on the edge, but further out there were tall curved sheets of water that would dwarf even the man holding the camera.

"Boyd!" the man called. More fiddling noises, the camera rocking as the man walked closer, and the picture zoomed in on the boy who turned to look at the camera.

Boyd's hair was dirty blond and hanging near his mid-ear, his eyes dark and squinted against the sun. He stared at the camera impassively even as the camera bobbed close enough to pick up the sound of the water pushing against the sand in the background.

"Did you build a sand castle?" The man's voice, and a smile was evident even in his tone.

"Yes," the boy said, looking up at the camera. Closer, it was clear that he was young, maybe seven. His expression was more reserved and quiet than most boys his age and his posture was perfect even while clearly on vacation.

The scene swung to the left, where a small lump of a sand castle sat dismally amidst a small plastic red bucket, yellow shovel, and more tiny footprints than many would care to count. "Is that it?" the man asked, and the camera swung back so quickly to the boy that it was almost nauseating.

Boyd looked almost affronted, his expression screwing up. "Of course not, father," he said, sounding almost haughty as he drew himself to his full height. "That is Lou's. He doesn't know how to make sand castles."

He sounded so self-important that the man, his father, burst out laughing. Boyd pointed regally across the way, in another direction. "That," he said importantly, "is my sand castle."

The camera shifted in that direction, and after a few fiddling noises, the scene zoomed in quickly. Another sand castle sat dismally against the ground, this one larger and more complex. Even so, it was clear that Boyd had little more talent than Lou, such that his was a larger lump with only slightly more defined windows and structure, and the box and shovel were properly set to the side.

"Oh," his father said, laughter in his voice that he quickly subdued with a cleared throat. The camera view swung back to Boyd. "It's very good."

Boyd grinned widely, a huge smile that showed off a missing tooth and a gap between his two front teeth. His eyes crinkled nearly closed as he looked incredibly proud of himself. The camera shook a bit as the man laughed lightly, and a large hand came from the right to ruffle Boyd's properly combed blond hair.

"Don't," Boyd said, laughing the way only a truly happy child can. He brought his hands up and pushed at his father's hand mostly for show. "You'll get it messy!"

The man laughed a little louder, and for a moment nothing happened.

Suddenly, a howl erupted from the side. The camera started to shift just as something pale and red slammed into Boyd and took him down. For a moment, there was pure confusion. Yelling and laughter erupted from the lower left, but the camera was still on a peaceful beach scene with a blank blue sky barely shadowed by clouds. It abruptly shifted down as the man's voice could be heard saying with laughter, "Boys, boys, don't hurt yourself."

A boy was wrestling with Boyd, though it was unclear who was winning. He looked about the same age as Boyd, but his hair was a mess of chaotic blond curls, lighter in shade than Boyd's, and his eyes were blue from the glimpses that could be seen. Shrieks and laughter permeated the air, until Boyd suddenly yelled, "Lou!" in a completely scandalized tone and scrambled away.

Boyd put his hands down the back of his trunks with his face screwed up and Lou howled with laughter just in front of him. The camera shook a little as the man laughed at Boyd's expression. "What's wrong, buddy?" he asked him with amusement.

"Lou stuck sand down my pants," Boyd said indignantly, and when Lou and his father only laughed, he stuck his tongue out at Lou and kicked some sand at him childishly. "It feels weird! Don't laugh!"

His father laughed harder, and Lou only threw sand back. Soon, they were in a sand-fighting battle, and Boyd forgot his indignation in lieu of trying to win the war through the strategic tactic of dropping to his butt so he could kick with both feet at once.

"Children," a woman's voice admonished from the side. "You'll make a mess."

The camera shifted quickly, the scene blurring in blue and tan until it landed on a blonde woman. She stood with perfect posture, her body shown off in a blue bikini with a transparent sarong tied at her hips. A straw hat half-shadowed her face, and large sunglasses covered her eyes, but her light blond hair fell to the middle of her back, caught in the wind. Her mouth was pulled down at the corners, but her voice had no bite to it.

"Isn't a beach one big mess?" the man's voice asked with humor, and she turned her attention on the camera. Walking closer with sandals that dug into the sand, her expression was totally unreadable until she came close enough for the camera to pick up a few of her freckles.

"Don't encourage them," she said softly, tilting her head slightly to presumably watch the boys. "He'll think he can act like that in the house." But the edge of her mouth was tilted up just slightly in a smile, and she looked at ease.

"Viv," the man said with chiding humor, "I don't think Boyd is likely to act this way anywhere, except in the sand with Lou."

She reached one perfectly manicured hand up to pull the sunglasses off and squint at the camera with ice blue eyes. "Cedrick," she said coolly, "If you continue to take his manners so lightly, undoing all my hard work, I'll see to it we place a sandbox directly in your office beside your computer. And then I shall invite his horrible little scruffy friend over, and we'll see who takes it lightly then." She smiled sweetly, a flash of well-formed white teeth, and there was a bit of soft humor in her eyes.

"Threatening my sweet baby!" Cedrick said in scandalized tones. "You've always hated my computer, haven't you?"

"Mm, yes," Viv said with a quirked smile. "I've tried killing it so many times when you weren't looking, to no avail."

"Can't even kill a computer, hmm?" Cedrick teased. "We need to send you to killing school."

"Assassination," said a small voice matter-of-factly off-screen, and Viv's startled look down was followed by the camera. Boyd stood staring up at them with wild blond hair and more skin coated in sand than not.

"What?" Cedrick asked, and his bewildered blink could be heard in his voice.

"It would be 'Assassination school,' wouldn't it?" Boyd asked innocently. "Or perhaps 'Assassination Academy.' It sounds more better, right?"

"'More' better is incorrect grammar, darling," Viv said absently, kneeling down to brush the sand from his face and try to fix his hair. "When will you learn to speak correctly?"

"Why should I?" Boyd asked petulantly. She licked her thumb and worried at a piece of dirt near his eye, and he screwed up his face and tried to pull away. She calmly held him by the back of his head and finished cleaning him matter-of-factly, without the typical lingering hands of a loving mother, but with care nonetheless. "Dad doesn't even speak right so I don't have to either!"

"Boyd," Viv said with calm weariness, "You should address him as 'father,' and furthermore, your father's communication skills have little to do with your own development. Where would I be if I raised an ill-mannered child?"

"Right there only Lou'd be standing here?" Boyd ventured, only a little sarcastically.

Cedrick burst out laughing. "He's got you there, Viv."

"Don't encourage his ridiculous jokes, either," Viv said wearily, but she did not sound angry. She stood, her hands dropping away from Boyd as if they had never been there. There was no lingering touch, no loving pat or ruffle of the hair, no soft kiss on his forehead.

"Where's Lou, buddy?" Cedrick's voice asked softly.

Boyd stared up at the two with wide brown eyes, his blond hair already getting messy in the wind. "He's swimmin'."

"Swimming," Viv corrected absently.

"Swimming and he's okay 'cause he said he found the lobster monsters," Boyd said suddenly, earnestly. He looked up at the two in mesmerized excitement. "He said there are mermaids on the bottom of the sea and the lobsters are their pets but some of them get wild, like undomesticated dogs or cats, and sometimes they bite swimmers!" He stopped to take a breath, and, his eyes flicking to his mother, said before anyone could speak, "'Because,' not ''cause,' I'm sorry."

"You do realize there are no such things as lobst-"

Viv's voice was cut off by Cedrick's, louder and amiable. "But if there are lobster monsters out there, isn't Lou in trouble?"

Boyd's wide eyes grew wider. "Really?" he asked, hushed.

The camera moved around as if Cedrick were nodding. "Well, the monsters bite people when they're wild, don't they? And knowing Lou, he's not looking for the pet monsters, is he?"

Boyd looked extremely startled. "You are so correct!" he said earnestly and suddenly turned to sprint awkwardly across the sand. "I'll save him!"

Cedrick started laughing again. "Did you hear that? He just went Valley Girl Yale boy on us then switched to Superman..."

"Charming," Viv said, but she sounded unamused. She crossed her arms beneath her breasts, a frown furrowing her eyebrows and narrowing her eyes.

"Oh, he's fine," Cedrick said dismissively, the camera focusing on Viv before turning past her. Boyd was just finishing his awkward run, his feet splashing up water onto the hem of his baggy red swimming trunks. His arms flailed a bit as he almost lost his balance, but he did not slow. Lou could be seen a little further out, splashing wildly and very cheerfully yelling something unintelligible.

Boyd dove into the water suddenly at an angle that even from the camera's distance seemed likely to have resulted in a painful belly flop. A confusion of flailing arms and a bobbing blond head moving out to sea was all that could be seen of Boyd rushing after his friend. Viv stood perfectly still, just inside the frame, her blond hair being pulled across the screen in an arc when the wind blew particularly strongly. It was a measure of the microphone that the sound did not turn into white noise at the strength of the gust.

Most of a minute passed in silence, Boyd bobbing closer to Lou while fiddling sounds belied Cedrick's attempts to zoom in further. The focus suddenly jumped, and Boyd could be seen clearer as he smacked his arms awkwardly around and hovered near Lou. Lou was saying something intently, a huge grin on his face, and Boyd looked caught between concern, excitement, and trying to stay afloat.

Lou said something that Boyd looked very startled about, and suddenly Lou's curly head disappeared completely beneath the water. Boyd floated awkwardly, starting to sink and flopping his arms around until he stayed up, and he looked around with wide eyes. Cedrick made a noise of discontent and the camera jolted as he started walking a little closer to the sea. Viv held one hand out, her fingers just in the lower view of the camera, and said simply, "Don't."

Cedrick stopped suddenly, the camera rocking and focusing again on Boyd's blond head. Boyd looked around frantically, and suddenly started swimming further out to see.

"Boyd," Cedrick yelled warningly, but there was no chance Boyd would hear from that distance. A few seconds passed in confusion. Lou suddenly reappeared where he was before, but Boyd was already further out and didn't notice at first that Lou had resurfaced.

Boyd turned around with his flailing arms and smiled so widely that his teeth were visible from the distance. He shouted something that resulted in Lou laughing and waving, and Boyd started swimming toward shore again.

Not even a third of the way toward Lou, Boyd suddenly disappeared beneath the waves. He was gone in a garbled shout that was half-covered by water, and for a moment everyone just stared, waiting for him to reappear.

When he did not immediately, Lou started swimming out toward him. Cedrick yelled something that could not be understood, but he started running toward the sea. In what could be seen before the screen passed beyond view, Viv remained perfectly still, watching the ocean with an unreadable, cool expression.

The camera jolted around so much that the scene was hard to make out. Lou remained a small dot in the distance though he grew slowly in size as Cedrick ran closer. A violent curse and the camera suddenly clattered to the ground. A spray of sand obscured the vision, a few grains remaining on the lens and partially obstructing the skewed view of the ocean and a stocky brown-haired man in pale grey swimming trunks running into the water and diving into the waves.

Cedrick swam furiously, yelling something to Lou that sounded as though he wanted him to get back to shore. Lou yelled back that he had to save his friend, and together the two started diving in the area they had last seen Boyd.

The scrunching of footsteps at the side, and the camera was lifted nauseatingly fast, and then turned until Viv stared down dispassionately at it with the clear blue sky seen behind her straw hat. Her lips drew down in a displeased frown, and she resolutely dusted the sand off the camera, licking her thumb to pull the grains off the lens. She dried it off with her sarong, giving the screen an eyeful of a pale thigh behind transparent blue cloth being rubbed across the lens.

The camera tilted and whirled again, and to the sound of some sort of clicking and shuffling, the camera suddenly stabilized at shoulder level. Viv stepped back, covering the ocean behind her with her body, and critically examined the camera, staring out of the screen as if she could see anyone watching the video later.

Apparently satisfied, she stepped back and turned, just visible in the edge of the screen. Her arms were loosely crossed and she made no move to help Cedrick and Lou as they slowly returned to shore with a bedraggled Boyd between them. The three stumbled onto the beach, Boyd shaking so extremely that it could be seen from the small distance. He was coughing and choking, with Cedrick protectively holding his head near his chest, and Lou kneeling by, slamming him on the back as if to help him breathe.

After a few minutes, Cedrick placed a gentle, thankful hand on Lou's head and pulled Boyd up into his arms as he stood. They walked a little closer to the camera as Cedrick tried to calm him, and now Boyd's words could be fully understood, though he was not entirely coherent.

"I thought the monsters got him," Boyd wailed, his voice still catching and clogged with tears. As Cedrick turned back and forth, rubbing his son's back, holding him protectively as Boyd clung to him, the camera picked up Boyd's red-rimmed eyes and tear-streaked face. "And then I went and I couldn't see him and then the water ate me! And I couldn't breathe and I hate it! I hate it!"

"I know, Boyd, I know," Cedrick said soothingly, smoothing down his hair with a shaking hand. "It's okay. I'm just glad you're safe, it's okay. Shh, it's okay, I've got you, buddy."

Lou stood to the side, staring up at Boyd with an expression caught between worry and fear. "It was a joke," he said helplessly. "I thought it'd be funny..."

"It was if the water didn't eat me!" Boyd yelled suddenly and started crying so hard he hiccupped.

Lou looked down at the ground with a really uncomfortable expression. Cedrick continued to rock Boyd around, and the silence was awkward for nearly a minute.

It took a little time, but Boyd finally stopped crying, then sniffling, then clinging desperately to his father. He pulled back and pushed at his dad's shoulders, saying imperially, "Let me down. I'm okay now."

Cedrick hesitated, his hands lingering on Boyd's hair as he stared intently into his son's eyes. He seemed to like whatever he saw, because he nodded and gently set him down. Boyd wobbled, wiped his face off with the back of his arm and some annoyed scrubbing of his palms, and turned resolutely to Lou.

"I didn't see any lobster monsters, but I did see a mermaid, I think," he announced importantly, as if reporting to a superior officer.

Lou blinked at him then grinned. "Really? Cool! I didn't see any."

"It's 'cause you weren't low enough," Boyd said sagely. "I went really low and I saw one."

"Yeah?" Lou walked closer, and suddenly pulled Boyd into a headlock so he could noogie him. "Next time don't get all snotty and almost die. I wanna see one too, and you went without me!"

"Ow!" Boyd yelled, but he was laughing and his hands were not pushing Lou away so much as resting on his arm. "Stop, no! It hurts!"

Lou grinned but stepped away and kicked some sand at Boyd. "Stupid Boyd, doesn't even know how to swim." He stuck his tongue out.

Boyd stuck his tongue out as well, and put his splayed hands at his head, his thumbs in his ears. "Nyahhh!" he said childishly.

"Very clever response," Cedrick said with a laugh that was still struggling with the hysterical fear of almost losing his son.

Lou kicked some more sand at Boyd, who kicked some back. Cedrick moved away a bit to get out of the cloud of sand rising to their ankles. Boyd suddenly reached down and grabbed a handful of sand which he ran at Lou and tried to shove down his trunks as Lou had done to him earlier. He was unsuccessful, but Lou laughed, and soon Boyd was laughing, and then they were playing and running around and perfectly fine again.

Cedrick moved to stand at the edge of the screen near Viv, who had not moved nor changed her expression at all during the entire exchange.

"I never see him happier than when he's with Lou," Cedrick said casually, though it was clear from his slightly shaking hands that he was still recovering.

"We will limit their interaction eventually," Viv said coolly, watching the two boys as they ran just in and out of the screen. "He is clearly a bad influence."

Cedrick looked over, startled. "Well, that was dangerous just now, but I don't think Lou meant anything-"

"And Boyd is this old yet somehow does not comprehend how to properly swim?" Her question was laced with an undercurrent of impatient irritation. "He will take lessons."

"He doesn't get to the beach much-"

"An unacceptable excuse," Viv said dismissively, cutting her husband off. She watched with a growing frown as the two stumbled around and finally settled to making new sandcastles.

Boyd could be seen to bossily point Lou around on Best Sandcastle Building Practices, while Lou laughingly damaged parts of Boyd's castles on his frequent trips to the sea and back to get more water. Finally, Boyd stood up, arms at his hips, and stomped all over everything in a brief tantrum.

Lou laughed, Boyd's face turned red with anger, they argued lowly about something, and then suddenly Boyd grinned widely and seemed to forget his irritation as he started laughing. Cedrick watched them for a few moments, shook his head to himself, and turned to the camera.

"Whatever you say, I think he's good for him," he told his wife gently. He walked up to the camera and, kneeling down, fiddled to get it off what it sat on. His amiable face was so close it was almost out of focus, and it became apparent his eyes were brown like Boyd's. His nose was also similar to Boyd's, though their son's hair and composure came from Viv.

Cedrick pulled the camera off with a jolt, and in the revolving chaos of rearranging, it became apparent that it had been sitting on a tripod. The view swung around alarmingly fast, flashing past Cedrick grinning widely in a mirror image of his son's grin, and then it settled on the two boys now working diligently on a single castle together.

"Alright," Cedrick's voice rallied cheerfully, "Who's up for ice cream?"

"Me!" Lou yelled immediately, jumping up and waving his hand.

Boyd was caught in a frenzy of trying to finish the corner he was working on, and trying to reply. He knocked his bucket of sea water over when he stood up and almost fell onto the sandcastle. "Oh! Me too, me too!" He almost sounded angry, as if someone had suggested that only the first responder would receive ice cream and the slower would be lost forever to an ice cream-less hell.

Cedrick laughed, and the camera jolted around as he walked closer to the two. "Alright, alright, we all get ice cream, no need to worry. Let's pack up and go, alright, boys?"

He paused while the two boys shouted and stumbled over each other in their haste to get to where their belongings were piled. The camera swung away from them and jolted around, looking at the sand, the sky, the sea, Cedrick's toes, and finally Viv's calves as she walked closer.

"Should turn this off," Cedrick muttered to himself absently, and there was the loud sound of fiddling.

"You spoil them," Viv said, not sounding pleased. "Especially his little hooligan friend."

"That's because they're boys," Cedrick said patiently. The camera continued to focus on their feet.

Viv's voice came cool and unimpressed. "Children need to grow up sooner rather than later."

Cedrick made a dismissive noise, though he sounded perfectly sincere when he spoke. "Children are children. I do what I do because I love Boyd. You do too, right?"

There was a long pause, and then Viv's voice came closer to the camera. "The power button is here."

"Oh," Cedrick said, and the screen turned blank.

---

Sin sat back in his chair with an expression that was equal parts amusement and annoyance. He had not expected to find a video of Boyd as a child and for some reason it had unsettled him in ways he could not begin to understand. While the idea of straight faced, intense Boyd seeing mermaids beneath the sea and playing in the sand with a youthful exuberance that Sin had never experienced, was amusing and almost refreshing in a way; his reaction to the video had displeased him immensely. It made no sense at all but his heart had actually sped up when Boyd had disappeared under the waves; it was an idiotic reaction considering the fact that Boyd had obviously survived but the fact that he'd been gripped with a feeling that was obviously fear made his gut wrench with angry, frustration at his own stupidity. He doubted that he'd ever been this concerned with anyone's safety before, not even his own. He hadn't felt fear in years, since he'd been a child. The fact that he was experiencing it now for no apparent reason left him disgusted with himself and his obvious weakness.

He closed the video and found the subfolder labeled Louis "Lou" Krauszer, the curly haired boy from the beach video. He barely glanced at the main document before moving on to the others, anxious to see his connection to Boyd. It seemed as though the boy had grown up with Boyd; his parents had been liberal politicians before the war and they'd both perished during the bombings that came after it. There were several police reports and mug shots of the teen and it appeared that after his parent's death he'd begun to participate in petty crime as a means of survival. There were several stills of surveillance videos on city streets that depicted him and Boyd walking together, his arm thrown casually around Boyd's shoulders most of the time. Sin studied the images and noted that although the teenaged Boyd in the images had begun to adopt his usual style of all black attire and a generally serious expression, his eyes were much more animated than they were now and his mouth was often spread across his face in smile.

Sin's eyes narrowed slightly and he stared at this Lou person with a slight frown. The dates on the images were as recent as four years ago, which meant that Boyd was most likely still acquainted with the boy. Something deep down in him did not like the idea of that, but he ignored it and idly flipped through files as he tried to find recent data on the mop headed teen. He was slender, attractive and always seemed to have a good humored grin on his face. Sin found himself unconsciously sizing the kid up, coming to the conclusion that Lou would be no match for him in a fair fight. His search came up short and he made a face at the computer before going back to the main document on Lou.

Louis "Lou" Krauszer
Occupation: None
Status: Deceased
Birth: 3/14/2000
Death: 5/23/2016

Sin stared at the words for a moment and decided that this was interesting. Likely the boy had died from illness related to radiation from the bombing, but he decided to look into it anyway. He searched the numerous subfolders in Lou's file and found one that had a single video file in it which was simply labeled "12122016" and had also been uploaded by Vivienne; he noted that it'd been created several months before Lou died.

---

"-ardly think I will ever understand that mindset," a voice was saying wryly. Plates clanked and there was the sound of the camera being set down on something hard. The screen was completely black; the cover must still be on.

"Shit," a voice whispered very softly, closer to the camera than the first.

"Did you say something, Lou?" The clanking stopped, and the sound of something scraping against the camera came across loud and agitated.

"No," Lou said absently, and the screen suddenly flipped into a confusing, blank view of red.

There was a beat of silence, and then the clanking continued. After a moment of the red dominating the screen, there was a blur of color and suddenly a pristine living room focused into view. It was the home of someone with enough money to afford having hardly anything. There was a definite difference between that and someone who had nothing because they could not afford anything.

Just in view in the upper left, behind a leather couch that was tinted maroon from the lamp light, a kitchen area opened behind a doorless archway. There was soft snickering, and the camera rotated violently around to face the ceiling, where a bright blue eye and a shock of curly blond hair dominated the scene. The camera shifted down and Lou's grin could be seen just before it blurred almost sickeningly.

Lou's red shirt half-obscured the camera's view, bobbing in his hand as he headed toward the kitchen. The sound of clanking dishes got closer, and a thin figure in dark with blond hair just came into view near the sink. The camera shifted and finally steadied at shoulder height.

"Boyd," he said suddenly.

The blond turned, his expression turning from mildly curious to confused to surprised right after another. His eyes widened as he stared straight at the camera with bright brown eyes. "That's our old camera."

"I know," Lou said smugly.

Boyd frowned, but it was a gesture of confusion rather than disapproval. He tilted his head a little and, drying his hands off on a nearby towel, padded closer on white socked feet. He wore a fitted black t-shirt that said 'Your skill in reading has increased by one point,' with a dark green long-sleeved shirt beneath it. Dark jeans hung low on his hips, and when he moved a strip of skin could be seen beneath. Although thin, he looked healthy, and probably in his mid-teens.

His face grew in the frame until he covered half the view, his eyes searching the camera in a manner that made it seem he was staring at the viewer. Boyd looked up, presumably to Lou's eyes.

"Where did you find that?"

"Somewhere," Lou said casually, the smug tone still not quite leaving his voice. "Aren't ya gonna ask why I got it out?"

Boyd's gaze flickered to the camera lens again, and a playful little smirk pulled at the edge of his mouth. "Alright," he said, playing along, "Why?"

"'Cause I wanted to catch ya off guard so you wouldn't have a chance to hide from it."

Boyd's smirk grew to an amused smile. "You're just mad you broke your camera last time you tried, aren't you?"

"Maybe," Lou said, drawling the word out. The scene jiggled as he shifted the camera. "Entertain me."

"What is that?" Boyd said with a truly amused laugh that threw his head back. "That's the sort of line in movies right before a person strips. Or worse."

"What?" Lou lamented, "You ain't gonna?"

"Oh, yes. That would be entertaining, certainly," Boyd said dryly, though he was grinning. "But only because I would probably make a mess of it and you would be laughing."

"You have no faith. Why not try it out? Here, I'll even provide the music." Lou belted out a bad rendition of one of the classic background songs played when something sexy was played in a movie.

"Pimp," Boyd said, laughing again, his fist disappearing beneath the screen as it rocked a little; presumably, he hit Lou in the arm lightly. When Lou only sang louder, Boyd shook his head to himself and, grinning, tilted his head down and pulled his hair behind his ear. "I won't strip for you on camera, Lou." His voice was amused.

Lou pounced on the wording. "That means you will off-screen?"

Boyd's grin quirked to the side and he looked up past the screen with a fondly amused expression. "Idiot," was all he said softly. There was a brief moment of silence, in which Lou must have done something because Boyd suddenly laughed, closing his eyes and looking extremely amused. "Stop it," he told him, and hit him again. He turned away, still chuckling, and walked over to the table.

The camera dipped and watched Boyd's ass as he walked, and stayed there when Boyd stopped. Boyd's body shifted, turning toward the camera. He laughed again, and this time something flew at the screen. For a moment, nothing could be seen but crinkled darkness.

"You're gonna break it, Beaulieu," Lou complained, and there was a scratching noise as something was pulled off the camera. Lou's hand appeared on screen briefly as he threw what looked to be a hand towel back at Boyd.

"Oh, whine, whine," Boyd said, sounding amused. He caught the towel, but the camera had not shifted its view, so Boyd walked closer and suddenly crouched. His face was huge, his honey brown eyes bright and in full detail. "Lou," he said softly, his grin just barely seen in the edge of the camera, "my face is a little higher than where you're aiming."

"I know that," Lou scoffed from behind the camera. "I just like the view down there more."

"You're such an idiot," Boyd said, though he did not sound angry. His hand suddenly appeared on the edge of the screen, and Lou made a loud whining noise as a struggle ensued over the camera. "Set that down," Boyd was ordering, while Lou protested, "Just leggo already! I'm taping here."

There was confusion of light and sound, and finally Boyd wrenched the camera away from Lou. His face was seen briefly with a triumphant, slightly evil grin, before he flipped it around again and aimed it at Lou. "Ha," Boyd said smugly.

Lou was taller than Boyd by several inches, and though he was also skinny, he had more muscle. He wore large, baggy pants and a red t-shirt with the words 'I just want you to know that as you stand here talking to me, I plan to make fun of you as soon as you leave.' A gold chain disappeared beneath the collar of his shirt and a small lump rested beneath the cloth, but whatever was on the end of the necklace could not be seen. Wild and curly blond hair was just short enough to miss falling into his bright blue eyes, and his mouth was pulled down in a sullen scowl. Lou crossed his arms, and peered at the camera.

"First you steal my clothing," Lou said, "then you steal the camera. And I'm the one with the bench warrant. I think you need to be arrested for petty theft, not me."

"Come now, Mr. Krauszer," Boyd said arrogantly. "There is absolutely nothing petty about me." His voice dropped wryly as he murmured, "Hmm. Except perhaps now, as I'm feeling rather superior." The camera shifted a bit, then steadied. "How do you like it with the tables turned?"

"How will you like it when I slap some cuffs on your scrawny ass and deal out appropriate punishment for your crimes?" Lou replied with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Boyd laughed. "Excuse me, my ass is not scrawny. And as it's punishment, I doubt I'd like it very much, thank you."

Lou watched him thoughtfully, his blue eyes searching the camera."Put down the camera," he said finally, walking closer. "I can't see your face with it there."

Boyd mumbled something but it was indistinct, and then the camera tilted dramatically and was suddenly set on the table. It was angled so the kitchen and the hallway behind it could be seen, and Boyd and Lou stood far enough away that they were fully in view. Boyd stared at the camera with his hands in his pockets, looking as though he didn't know what to do now, and Lou was watching Boyd with an unreadable expression. When Boyd looked over at Lou, they stared at each other for a moment in silence, something passing between them without words.

Boyd shifted his weight, which incidentally brought him closer to Lou. Lou stared at him, then glanced at the camera, and said suddenly, "I want my shirt back."

Looking a little startled, Boyd held up one arm clad in a long dark green sleeve. "This one?"

"Yeah," Lou said, staring at his arm. "You stole it from me when I wasn't looking, you little minx."

"No, I didn't," Boyd said, laughing. "You gave it to me, you idiot. Remember?"

"I lent it to you, and you never gave it back, and now I need it because I'm cold." Lou held his hands out impatiently. "Give it."

"Oh, right now," Boyd drawled flatly, amused. "It's that imperative, is it?"

"Yes," Lou said firmly.

Boyd looked at him oddly, but he shrugged and pulled both shirts off at once. Lou watched him closely, his eyes tracking Boyd's stomach and chest and staying there. Boyd was more thin than muscular, but his skin was smooth and he had very little hair. His pants hung so low on his hips that his hipbones could be seen peeking out the top. When his head popped out of the hole at the top, his hair fluffed up all around him, a little fuzzy from static electricity. He noticed Lou staring at his chest but he said nothing; he just pulled the two shirts apart and tossed the long-sleeved one at Lou.

Lou caught it, but then dropped it uncaringly. Boyd stared at it on the ground, a little confused, and looked back up to meet Lou's eyes. "I thought you wanted it."

"It looks better on you anyway," Lou said with a casual shrug.

Boyd's eyebrows furrowed down. "But you made me take it off..."

"I know," Lou said, and he grinned widely. Boyd stared at him, his expression unreadable, but there was something significant in the look he gave him. After a moment, his mouth pulled to the side in a smirk and he looked to the ground so his hair covered it. His t-shirt was inside out from when he pulled it off, so he fixed that then slid it back on again. Lou's attention seemed caught by the line of hair from Boyd's bellybutton that disappeared into his pants.

Lou walked over, measured steps that did not quite match the intensity of his eyes that could be seen by the camera when he tilted his head just so. He reached out and pushed some of Boyd's hair out of his eyes, his fingers lingering near his ear. "You look messy," he told him flatly.

Boyd looked at Lou, his head tilted a little in a direction that happened to press his face against Lou's hand. "I know," he said softly.

Before anything could happen, there was the distant sound of a key in the front door. Boyd backed away from Lou immediately and the softness that was in his expression closed off completely. All warmth was lost to decidedly neutral coldness and Lou just sighed in annoyance and let his hand drop to his side.

"Oh look," he said sourly, "it's the Ghost."

Boyd did not answer; his gaze was focused intently on the doorless entry to the hallway. A few seconds passed with nothing, and then suddenly a tall, statuesque woman walked by. Her pale blonde hair was pulled back into a tight bun and her skirt-suit was perfectly pressed. She walked down the hallway without even glancing in the door; despite the fact that it was obvious Lou and Boyd were there.

"Your mom's so fucking creepy," Lou said after she disappeared past them. He didn't even bother making his voice softer. "She acts like you don't exist. It's like the changing of the guards..." He looked over at Boyd with a raised eyebrow and a mischievous expression. "You ever considered doing something crazy in front of her just to see what she does?"

"No," Boyd said, still staring at the archway with few emotions. He turned to Lou, and his gaze softened a little. "I don't think I would want to see that."

"Well," Lou announced, "I do."

A few minutes later Vivienne appeared in the archway again as she walked past, wearing a new outfit on and holding a bag in her hand. She paused, then walked into the kitchen and headed for the cupboards. Boyd backed away to give her room to pass, but Lou remained stubbornly standing in the middle of the kitchen, his arms crossed at his chest.

Vivienne walked past Boyd without looking at him, just as Lou said, as if he truly did not exist. She went to the cupboards and pulled out some items, including the last can of jasmine tea and the only carton of milk in the fridge. Boyd watched her with a strange expression, something sad and lost. Lou looked at Boyd and his expression darkened. He turned to Vivienne as she placed the items in a bag and searched through the bare cupboards for more of Boyd's little food to take.

"Hey, Mrs. Beaulieu," Lou said suddenly, his voice loud and confrontational. "I fucked your son last night."

Boyd looked over at Lou sharply, his eyes widened. "Lou," he said lowly, upset, walking toward him.

Vivienne, however, did not acknowledge them at all. She simply took a few cans and boxes of food and ignored them.

Lou narrowed his eyes. "He looks really hot when he's-" Boyd appeared at his side and slapped his hand over his mouth. He looked at his mother in fear, but she did not look over. A few seconds of awkward silence passed. Boyd finally started to relax and Lou yanked his hand off his mouth. He gave Boyd an impatient, irritated look, but Boyd just looked at him sternly and shook his head.

Vivienne turned, her expression icily remote, and started to walk past them. Boyd relaxed when she made it to the door; his shoulders slumped and he started to step away from Lou.

"Boyd," Vivienne said suddenly, tilting her body so her cold blue eyes surveyed him for the first time.

His spine stiffened immediately, his expression closing off and eyes turning dull. He did not quite look her in the eye as he said softly, "Yes, Mother?"

She stared at him, then looked away dismissively. "You disappoint me," she said coolly, and left before anything more could be said.

Boyd stared at the archway for a long time, his expression hard to read, though again the lost sadness seemed present.

Lou scowled after Vivienne and mocked her with his body language, then turned his glare on his friend. "Stop listening to her. How can you fucking disappoint her? You're acing your damn college classes and you're only fifteen. You shouldn't even be taking them."

Looking down at the ground, Boyd did not move for a moment. Finally, he pulled his hair behind his ear and looked up with a sort of sad, helplessly amused smile. "She took my last bit of jasmine tea," he said blankly.

"That bitch," Lou said, turning to glare at the door. "I see where you got your tendency to steal shit, though."

Boyd looked at him, a little startled, but he smiled and relaxed a little. Looking at the camera suddenly, he blinked with an expression that said he'd forgotten it was on. Walking toward the camera, his body started to blot out the background as he said softly, "It's alright. I don't drink it much anyway."

Lou stared after him with angry, helpless sadness. "You drink it every night, you fucking idiot."

Boyd's shirt moved as if he shrugged, and then he tilted forward as he started trying to find the power button. "I'll get some another time."

"She didn't leave you an allowance this time, remember?" Lou said impatiently. "That's why you got no fucking food in the house, right?"

"I don't care," Boyd said softly right next to the microphone. "I'll live."

Lou stared at him, the same expression caught on his face, and suddenly he was stalking toward the camera. Boyd was fumbling with the buttons and had just whispered, "Ah, found it," when Lou's hands suddenly appeared as he hugged him from behind.

Boyd jumped, started to say, "Lou-" in a partially relieved, partially surprised voice, and the screen went blank.

---

Sin did not move for a moment and stared at the blackened screen long after the video had ended. His hands curled into loose fists and he licked his lips nervously, seemingly unable to comprehend what he had just seen. He vaguely recalled himself discussing Thierry's homosexuality and Boyd's response to the comment; his brow furrowed and he replayed a portion of the video again.

"I fucked your son last night."

It was possible that Lou had said it for shock value and that he'd been lying but something about Boyd's reaction made it obvious that it was the truth. He played it back again.

"I fucked your son last night."

Pale green eyes narrowed slightly and he skipped further back in the video. He watched the knowing way Lou put his hands on Boyd and the way Boyd leaned into that touch. He zeroed in on the significant looks and the highly sexual way Lou stared at Boyd's slender body. He replayed it several times and felt heat begin to spread across his body, even as his hand shook slightly. He absently recalled himself pinning Boyd to the wall of his apartment, one hand on either side of his head as he leaned in close; the way Boyd's eyes had widened and the way their lips had brushed. The dark part of his mind noted cruelly that it was pleased that Lou was dead.

A muscle in his cheek ticked and he closed the window abruptly as the warmth disappeared as quickly as it had come. He had not known that Boyd was a homosexual and he told himself that he would keep further snide comments about sexual orientation to himself. He also made a mental note of the fact that Vivienne did not treat her son much better than she had treated Sin in their brief meeting two years ago, although the coldness towards Boyd had obviously intensified after the war and Cedrick's death for one reason or another. He chose not to acknowledge the thoughts that had briefly flooded his mind after viewing the video, chose not to focus on the mixed feelings of possessiveness and jealousy that had gone through him. However it wasn't only anger that he'd felt, it'd been something else as well; a strange attraction to the video, to the sight of two beautiful young men touching each other. It was strange, sudden and something he didn't want to deal with at the moment so he ignored it and began methodically going through each folder as he tried to figure out how Boyd's teenage lover had died.

Once again he came up with nothing and he growled at the computer in frustration before flipping back to Boyd's folder. He went through every folder and every file and finally found one that was labeled "police-hospital reports, surveillance". His eyebrows rose and several files appeared on the screen; he opened each one, pouring over them thoroughly. It seemed as though Boyd had been involved in a mugging where he'd been injured and his friend Louis Krauszer was slain by the attackers. Further reading described an inept and somewhat crooked police department who did very little to catch the gang that was involved and that the case had remained unsolved and eventually ignored. A follow up report noted that although Boyd's wound had not been fatal, he returned to the hospital three days later with severe chest and stomach trauma from numerous stab wounds. Despite Vivienne's insistence that they'd been from another attack, Boyd's despondence and instability hinted otherwise. He'd been released after a brief psych evaluation but one week later, he'd returned again due to an obvious suicide attempt. The hospital report noted that it had been recommended for Boyd to receive additional psychiatric help but there were no further reports and it seemed that Boyd had been taken out of the hospital early and had never returned. There were no further reports or follow ups by authorities and it seemed for one reason or another, they'd decided to stop investigating.

Sin's long, slender fingers tapped against the table in agitation and he raked a hand through his hair, a motion that was new to him although he'd begun doing it a lot lately. The idea of Boyd attempting to kill himself because of this Lou boy's death bothered him but not for the reason it should have. Had Lou meant that much to him?

Sin scowled and looked at a couple of other files before coming to another video clip. It was labeled "05232016" and caught his attention for all its innocuousness.

---

The camera was set well above the street, and the quality of the video was very high. It was a nice day; a little bit of water was still trickling along the gutters from a recent rain. The sun was as bright as it ever got behind the layer of clouds, intense enough that it even lightened the dull grey to an almost pretty white. A sign hung just in the lower portion of the screen, proclaiming 'First Bank' in bold blue letters. It was no wonder that the quality was so high if this was a surveillance camera from a bank.

It became apparent that even the microphone was superb when Lou and Boyd's voices could be heard murmuring from off screen. "Why can't you drink the tea without milk?" Lou was asking, scuffing the soles of his shoes along the ground. They came into view within seconds, Lou slouching along with his hands shoved in his pockets while Boyd strolled at his side. "That's just gross, by the way. I hope you know that milk with tea is nasty."

"It tastes best that way," Boyd said defensively. He crossed his arms and gave Lou a look. "You don't have to come with me, you realize. I said I can get the milk on my own."

"What, and sit at your place waiting for the Ghost to reappear?" Lou made a face. "No thanks. I'd rather go with you on this stupid ass trip."

Boyd shook his head to himself, his hair falling forward to partially obscure his expression. "Whatever," he said idly.

Several feet behind them, a group of five male teenagers appeared on the edge of the screen. They were watching the two ahead of them with casual scrutiny, and something about them seemed off. Within seconds they were in perfect view of the camera, their slouching stride bringing them closer to the center of the screen. Aside from the bagginess of their clothing they were not dressed alike; even the colors differed greatly. However, it was obvious that they were in a gang; each wore a green bandana in some fashion, and their body language was too confident and cocky to be anything else. The tallest of them glanced at the others with barely a nod of his head, but the four seemed to understand. Without saying a word the group closed in on the two ahead of them. Lou looked over his shoulder suddenly, finally seeming to notice that they were being followed. He glanced at Boyd and said something too low for the camera to pick up, his expression irritated.

"Stop running, Krauszer," the tallest boy said loudly. His sneakers scuffed against the ground as he watched them with his head tilted at an arrogant angle. Black, slightly oily hair fell into his eyes, and the way he held himself showed he was used to being in charge.

Lou stopped walking abruptly and turned around. "You again?" His voice had a mocking quality. "Why don't you just give it up already, buddy?" Boyd stood near Lou with his hands in his pockets and watched the interaction with a mostly unreadable expression. His gaze darted around, seeming to note where the other people were and where potential exits could be.

"Give up?" The tallest teen jerked his head at the other four and returned his attention to Lou. His dark eyes narrowed and a mean expression took over his features. "Now why would I do that? You started this and now I'm going to finish it."

The gang members circled around Boyd and Lou silently, watching them carefully. Boyd's eyes darted to each of them in turn and he looked increasingly uncomfortable with the situation. Seemingly unconsciously, he shifted his weight so he was a little closer to Lou.

"It was just a fistfight, Jared!" Lou said disgustedly, his focus entirely on the tall boy who walked closer to him. He didn't seem to notice the other four, or even necessarily the way Boyd moved nearer. Lou's blue eyes were narrowed and he crossed his arms belligerently. "Just accept your loss and move on. Stop being a sore fucking los--"

Jared smashed his fist into Lou's thin face hard enough that the crack resounded down the street. Boyd's eyes widened and he looked at Lou in surprise, watching a thin spray of blood erupt from his mouth. "Yeah," Jared sneered, "it was just a fight and this is just a fucking beat down." His expression twisted cruelly. "Kenny, Seth, get this fucker. Tommy and Vince, cover his little bitch."

The second tallest smirked and grabbed Lou immediately, who was too disoriented to fight back at first. The teen's hair was a dirty blond, his expression anticipatory; he appeared to have no issues with the situation, but the shortest of them lingered without listening. He looked to be Asian, and his hair was covered by a green bandana tied over his head. He hovered away from the others, looking nervous, while the blond shot him a glare. "Seth, get the fuck over here," he hissed. The smallest boy only took a few steps nearer but did not actually get involved. Kenny, the blond, looked disgusted but seemed to expect the reaction.

The other two teens moved to Boyd's sides, both smirking. One was just a little taller than Boyd and also Asian; his black t-shirt simply read 'Fuck you' in bold white letters and even with his arms at rest it was clear he was far more muscular. The other teen looked as though he could be a stereotypical Italian; his hair was jet black, his skin tanned, and his stature was stocky and strong. Boyd barely looked at them; his attention was riveted on Jared as though he were trying to figure something out.

Seeing the two go near Boyd seemed to shake Lou back to reality. His expression twisted, half-covered by his hair and the angle of the camera, and he leaned away from Kenny's hold. "Stay away from him," Lou growled before he spit a large glob of blood onto the street.

Jared strolled between Lou and Boyd, and it was at that point the muted sunlight glinted off the blade of a knife in his hand. That seemed to be what Boyd was trying to confirm because he immediately looked very alarmed. "Lou?" he called, his voice rising uncertainly as he looked up distractedly toward Jared. He tried to walk toward them, already saying, "Hey, don't-!"

Vince and Tommy each grabbed an arm and yanked him back immediately. Boyd pulled at his arms, but did not seem to put a lot of strength into it; he could not seem to stop looking between the knife and Lou, and even his own attempt at escape seemed to pale before the fear that could be seen creeping into his expression. The tall Asian teen gave him a disgusted look at how little he was fighting back.

"Fuck," Lou said louder, his gaze turning more aware and zeroing in on the two holding Boyd. "You fucking -- Don't touch him!"

"Stay away from him? Don't touch him?" Jared mocked Lou with his tone and body language. "You still think you're in some fucking position to give someone an order?" He walked closer to Lou and watched him with narrowed eyes, looking like he was thoroughly enjoying this. "I got news for you, wonder boy, mommy and daddy can't save your ass now. You don't got all the connections no more."

He moved away before Lou could do much more than glare at him angrily. With a superior smirk, Jared strolled toward Boyd and stopped, looking at Lou cruelly. Boyd struggled against the two holding him, but judging by the alarmed way he stared at Lou, he seemed more intent on getting closer to his friend than he was with getting away from Jared. "You're just a fucking nobody and I'll put my hands on your little bitch if I want to," Jared sneered. He backhanded Boyd hard enough to snap his head to the side, making sure the hilt of the knife slammed into his face in the process.

A pained sound escaped Boyd, and Lou's face reddened as his expression turned furious. He slammed his elbow into Kenny's stomach, twisting away and lunging at Jared with a furious shout. "You fucking asshole!" He swung at Jared with wild anger; the punch connected with his face but as soon as it did, Kenny slammed him down to the ground. Lou's chin hit the curb hard enough for his teeth to click together loudly. He tried to push Kenny off but couldn't seem to manage it, so he stared at Boyd and yelled, "Boyd, don't just stand there! Run!"

Boyd looked a little disoriented from the blow, but he just stared at Lou with wide, frightened eyes. He shook his head to himself and pulled at the two holding him again, but rather than follow Lou's orders, he turned a bright-eyed glare on Jared. "Let him go!" Boyd yelled, trying to get closer to Jared. "Don't hurt him -- He didn't fucking do anything!"

Jared seemed entirely unimpressed. "Tommy," was all he said, but the tall Asian at Boyd's side nodded.

Tommy pulled Boyd back so suddenly that he lost his footing. Boyd slumped for a second in their arms, trying to stand properly again. "Shut the fuck up," Tommy growled to Boyd, "Or I'll do it for you." He was threatening in a manner idle enough to show he didn't think Boyd was a danger to them in any way. The Italian teen on Boyd's other side, who could only be Vince, pulled roughly on Boyd's arm and held him in a strong enough grip for Boyd to look a little pained.

"Boyd," Lou yelled, seeming fixated on the pain Boyd was showing. He struggled wildly against Kenny's grip, looking as angry with the situation as he was concerned about Boyd's welfare. "Run, just fucking run!"

"Lou..." Boyd said helplessly, staring at him. "I..."

Seth watched the interaction before suddenly turning and wandering away from all of them. He seemed intent on being the lookout, as his gaze kept darting around to the streets and alleys within view.

Jared rubbed his face and watched Boyd with a cold smile. "This your little woman?" he asked Lou, walking over to look down at him mercilessly. "I always knew you were a fucking faggot, Lou." He stared at him a moment and without warning, slammed his steel toed boot into Lou's face viciously. His boot came away splattered with blood that sprayed from Lou's mouth once again. He ignored Boyd's automatic alarmed shout and Lou's pained, muffled groan. "Pick him up," he ordered.

Kenny grabbed Lou by a handful of curly hair and snickered, looking at the blood flowing down Lou's chin. "I think you broke some of this fucker's teeth," he said, amused.

"It'll make it easier for him to give head," Vince said with a loud guffaw.

"Stop it!" Boyd yelled, his voice cracking. Tears gathered at his eyes and could be heard in his tone as he yanked wildly at his arms, throwing his body forward and back in his attempt to get away. "Stop it, don't hurt him!" Once again, rather than trying to follow Lou's orders, he seemed intent on getting closer to him. Lou watched him with an expression that seemed as pained by the physical attacks on himself as he was by seeing Boyd so frightened. Boyd seemed to realize his attempts to get away weren't working, so he suddenly stomped viciously on Vince's foot at the same time that he pulled on his arm.

"Fuck!" Vince growled, and Boyd was just able to get out of his grip in the brief moment of his distraction. He tried to run, apparently hoping to be abrupt enough that Tommy wouldn't be able to hold him on his own, but it didn't work. Boyd yelped and almost fell when Tommy snapped his arm back forcefully.

"I said, shut the fuck up," Tommy growled, backhanding him hard enough for the crack to be heard on the camera. Boyd swayed, Tommy's hold on his arm keeping him upright, and before he could react Vince appeared before him.

"Fucking bitch," Vince hissed. He punched him in the stomach, Boyd's breath hissing out as he curled forward. Vince took that opportunity to kick him viciously in the ribs. Boyd let out a pained groan and fell to his hands and knees, but Vince just kicked him again, staring down with a twisted, furious expression.

Vince didn't look like he intended to stop, but Lou made a twisted noise deep in his throat, gurgling through the blood that nearly choked him. Lou tried to crawl toward Boyd but Kenny jerked him up higher by his hair, and his face twisted even as his eyes brightened with pain and unshed tears. In the movement, a small ring on a golden chain fell out of his shirt and dangled at his throat where a little blood splattered onto it.

Jared watched the exchange with a disgusted expression and held one hand up to Vince, who took one glance at the gesture and stopped. Jared stared at Lou, watching how his entire attention seemed focused on Boyd coughing on the ground, despite the fact that Lou himself was clearly in danger. Lou obviously cared more about Boyd's welfare than his own, and that caused Jared's expression to turn sour. "God, these fags make me sick," he said darkly. Turning his attention to Boyd, Jared sneered coldly. "Hold that little bitch up, let him fucking watch."

Vince bent over and yanked Boyd to his feet by one arm. Boyd stumbled, almost falling against him before Tommy caught his other arm and jerked him to the center between them. Coughing a little to catch his breath from being kicked, Boyd sagged in their hold but looked up toward Lou immediately. Bruises were already forming on his cheek, but he did not appear to notice; instead, he was staring at Lou with such pained intensity that it was clear words were passing silently between the two.

Seeing that made Jared snort in complete disgust. The knife reappeared in his hand, the blade looking to be about eight inches long and lightly serrated. He held it up so the muted sunlight reflected off it, and the crusted blood from apparently earlier incidents could be seen. Jared stayed still a moment for them to notice.

Boyd was the first to break eye contact; he seemed distracted by the glint of light. The moment he saw the blade, his face went completely pale, making the faint bruises stand out more dramatically. "No..." he whispered to himself, staring at the knife in horror. "You..."

Kenny let Lou dangle from his grasp on his hair, chuckling as Lou tried to struggle against him despite how off balance and weak he appeared. Lou's eyes kept dimming in pain, and the blood loss seemed to be affecting his ability to fight back. That wasn't surprising, as his shirt was already coated down the front with shining red.

Darting his gaze to Jared, Boyd stared at him for a long moment, as if trying to determine if this was really happening, if he would actually use the weapon. Whatever he saw in Jared's expression was enough to apparently confirm his worst fears. "Oh God," he groaned, and terror could be seen gathering in his voice and face. He tried to throw himself out of Tommy and Vince's hold but couldn't. "Lou!" he yelled, tears gathering in his eyes as he stared at the blood soaking his clothing. Returning his attention to Jared, he tried to get away and cried out desperately, "God, no, stop it! Please, he's my friend!" His boots made scuffing noises against the ground, his hair flew around his face chaotically. Vince just held him tighter while Tommy sneered at him as if he thought he was pathetic. "Please!" Boyd stared at Jared with his expression twisting, tears glinting off his cheeks. "Isn't there anything you want? I--I can give you money, or-- Or whatever you want, I don't care, I'll get it. Please, just let him go!"

Jared watched him with absolutely no compassion in his cold eyes. "This is what I want," he said calmly, keeping his body at an angle so Boyd could see exactly what he was doing. He slammed his knife into Lou's throat and yanked it out in the same motion. Blood shot from an artery, spraying Jared's hands and the cement in a brilliantly red arc. Some of the blood splashed against Boyd's clothing as he stared, his chest rising and falling in quick bursts as he seemed in shock.

Lou's eyes opened wide, gurgling and choking as he lose his footing. Kenny released his hair abruptly, letting him fall to the ground where he crouched on his knees, gasping helplessly.

"Now you'll keep that mouth shut, won't you?" Jared asked softly.

Lou choked and hissed, pressing his hands to the large gash in his neck as if trying to stop the blood flow. It did nothing, though; blood squirted between his fingers, dripped liberally down his arms and coated everything around him in bright red. He focused his attention on Boyd, tears filling his eyes as his mouth moved frantically. He was trying to speak, trying desperately to tell him something, but only choking sounds came out, and he seemed to be slowly drowning in his own blood.

Boyd stared in complete, naked shock and disbelief. His eyes were so wide that whites could be seen entirely around his irises, and for a moment he seemed incapable of even thinking enough to struggle. The tears increased, tracking constantly down his cheeks and thickening his voice. "No..." he whispered, staring in rapt horror at Lou. Almost as if he did not realize what he was doing, Boyd started talking again, his voice rising in hysteria and volume. "No... Lou, you can't... You can't... What the fuck? Help us! Somebody fucking help us!"

Seth was turned toward the camera, and the highly uncomfortable way he looked at Lou and Boyd was clearly seen, while Kenny, Vince and Tommy just seemed amused.

Boyd turned furious eyes on Jared, tears coursing down his cheeks now as he struggled again, far more violently than before. He didn't stop; he just kept throwing himself forward like a dog gone insane trying to get off its leash. "Let me go!" he screamed, his voice breaking with fury and hysteria. "Let me go, let me go, I'll fucking kill you! What did you do, what did you fucking do?"

Jared stared at him cruelly, not even flinching at the threats. "That wasn't nothing," he murmured, mouth spreading in a large, twisted smile. "You thought that was something?" He reared the knife back again and slammed it deep within Lou's stomach. Lou's mouth dropped open and his eyes rolled as he tried to scream, but blood was all that came out and he gagged. "You like that?" Jared asked Boyd. "Huh?"

"Stop it!" Boyd screamed loudly, fury making his voice quake and crack. He surged forward suddenly enough that he actually started to get away, though it almost seemed as though Tommy and Vince were playing with him, that they let go of him on purpose to make him think for a moment he had a chance to react. Boyd ran for Jared like he intended to rip his throat out, but Tommy and Vince easily caught him just before he could reach him.

Vince snatched him by the shirt, jerking him back so abruptly that Boyd half-choked from his collar bunching at his throat. Tommy was at his side immediately, hitting him with casual strength on the side of the head hard enough for him to stumble against Vince's hold, who shoved him forward and kicked him in the small of his back. Boyd fell forward, one hand just going to the ground to brace himself when Tommy kicked him violently in the ribs.

Falling to his side with a wheeze, Boyd tried to curl around the pain but Tommy reached down and yanked his head back by a fistful of his blond hair. "I told you to shut up," Tommy told him with a cold smile, then stood and kicked him in the stomach again several times in a row. Boyd let out a loud, pained whimper, his eyes squeezing shut as he apparently tried to regain his bearings. Vince waited until Tommy was done, then casually slammed Boyd down on his stomach and held him there with his foot. Boyd's chin scraped against the pavement, blood oozing from the cut, and tears were running down his cheeks so fast it seemed like it must be hard to see. His arms were pinned beneath him and even when he tried to buck up to get away, he could not move.

Tommy sneered and dropped onto his back, holding him down firmly with his weight while Vince got a better grip. Tommy grabbed Boyd's hair with a rough grip, yanking his head back at an angle that looked painful as he forced him to watch Lou.

With Lou's blood staining the ground just in front of his eyes, Boyd seemed incapable of looking away from his best friend, who was turning shakier and paler by the second as the blood from his body drained steadily through his wounds. The fury seemed to wilt within Boyd at the sight; he continued to cry so hard that he could barely voice the words, "Lou... No, Lou, I'm so sorry..." He seemed too defeated to struggle, could only seem to focus on Lou despite the blood and pain.

Jared stared down at Boyd with disgust. "You know, if your boyfriend had learned to keep his fucking mouth--" He plunged the knife into Lou's stomach again. "--SHUT." He yanked it out and repeated the motion. "This wouldn't have fucking happened." Blood flew everywhere, spraying in grotesque arcs around Lou, splattering Jared. Some of it went far enough that it hit Boyd in the face and got Vince and Tommy on their clothes as well.

Lou collapsed completely on the floor, convulsions violently taking over his body. He could not seem to control any of his actions, but he did not look away from Boyd, did not break eye contact even as Boyd's eyes widened; Lou did not look away even as his own blood dripped slowly down his childhood friend's face. Lou choked and gagged, trying so desperately to speak again, his mouth working uselessly as blood poured liberally out. It stained his teeth red, coated his face in slowly drying crimson, made it impossible for him to make even a single noise through his damaged throat. Although obviously in extraordinary pain, he struggled against his body shutting down and extended one arm weakly toward Boyd, trying to reach him.

Boyd's expression screwed up painfully at the sight and he started calling out to Lou again, voice broken and twisted, breathy and desperate. Boyd was still trying to struggle toward Lou, pushing against the ground seemingly as hard as he could, but he could not get away. Tommy laughed at him and Vince looked incredibly bored, though he was watching Lou with detached interest, as if wondering how long he would live before the blood loss made even the weak convulsions impossible. Boyd appeared to stop paying attention to anything around him; he just stared at Lou as if looking at him intently enough would slow down time. His voice trembled and stretched, became infused with agony and regret, and when Tommy jerked his head back so far he could hardly swallow, he barely seemed to notice. He kept murmuring, sounding like someone watching his world die slowly in front of him as he was powerless to stop it. Lou's name became a slurred prayer, a wordless begging that this be a dream, that it not be real, that they would both wake up safe and unharmed back at his home.

But it was completely real, and for all of Boyd's relative proximity, Lou was unable to reach him, and Boyd was incapable of reaching back. They lay apart from each other, only a few feet separating them, their eyes locked on each other in pain and desperation, but there was nothing either of them could do. The completion of the moment was inevitable.

"Enough of this fag shit," Jared snapped in disgust. "Say goodbye."

Jerking Lou up by the hair once again, Jared finally seemed to notice Lou's gold chain and ring. Blood had already coated parts of it, but Jared just casually tore it from Lou's neck and stuffed it in his pocket, probably intending to sell it. He turned and nodded at Tommy and Vince, who stabilized Boyd's head so he could do nothing but watch in wide-eyed hysteria as Jared finished what he started. Yanking the knife clear across Lou's already gashed throat, Jared destroyed Lou's throat so terribly it was almost unrecognizable as a human neck. Without losing the momentum, he followed it up by slamming the knife savagely into Lou's heart. The weapon disappeared into Lou's chest nearly to the hilt, and even the blood that was spurting from Lou's wounds started to slow as he bled out.

Boyd was staring at Lou's eyes when the light disappeared from them, when he went completely limp and his best friend turned into just a ravaged corpse. A moment of shock stretched, in which Boyd could not seem to believe what he had just seen, while he stared in silent disbelief at the body that had fallen in front of his eyes. His breath quickened, his body jerked briefly against his captors, and he seemed to just snap.

Boyd went wild, struggling against the ground and screaming hysterically, crying, choking on his own saliva because he could not seem to draw breath properly between his agonized screams. He was unable to even breathe because he couldn't get away and couldn't draw breath; he just kept screaming Lou's name, louder and louder, crying desperately for help. Though his voice echoed all around them and it was clear from the cracked hoarse quality that he was not acting, not a single soul came to investigate. Boyd could not seem to look way from Lou, his eyes raving, intense and almost insane.

Jared stared at Boyd silently for a long moment and let Lou's face drop into the dirty water of the street gutter. The splash echoed around them while the puddle steadily curled and twisted with the blood spreading into it. Dirty brown became clotted crimson, and the blood spread further, a pool growing around Lou that crept closer and closer to Boyd's face. Jared smirked and stepped over the corpse, boots splashing in the deep red puddle. He sauntered over to Boyd and stared down at him coldly. "Hold him up," he said softly.

Boyd was yanked up unceremoniously, but he gave no resistance. His eyes were wide and still caught on Lou's body, his expression a wrenching view of utter devastation. The only reason he fell silent seemed to be because his voice gave out on him, turning hoarse and as lifeless as the way he sagged in their arms. Boyd did not seem to notice Jared, or even particularly realize he was being held up. But just in case Vince and Tommy held him tightly, bracing themselves for another bout of wild, terror-filled struggling.

Jared continued to watch Boyd, took in his distant-eyed expression, the way all life went out of him. He reached up and pulled Boyd's head back with a hand in his hair, forced him to look up into his eyes, even if Boyd did not seem to focus. "I want you to remember this forever," Jared told Boyd softly, sounding like he enjoyed the power he held in the situation. He was cocky and self-assured and mocking all at once. "Next time pick a fuckbuddy who can actually back up his fucking mouth."

The knife was still wet with Lou's blood when it plunged into Boyd's lower stomach. Jared yanked it out, dropping Boyd's hair so he could get better leverage. He looked up, saw the way Boyd did not even really react to the attack. A savage grin overcame his expression, his eyes dark and cold as they narrowed, and with more force than was necessary he slammed the knife into the same spot. Jared was completely into the moment; he jerked the knife out a slight twist and swung in for a third time.

The blade was just starting to connect with Boyd's stomach when Seth yelled suddenly, "Shit! Someone's coming!"

There were hurried, confused motions and Jared reluctantly stopped his assault. He turned toward Seth with a glare, maybe ready to berate him for interrupting his entertainment, when he heard the scuffing of shoes in the distance. Swearing loudly, Jared flipped his bloody knife out of view and immediately ran away, seeming to completely forget Boyd and Lou's existences. Kenny and Vince were close behind him, but Seth was staring at Lou's body with a wide-eyed, shaky look. Tommy snagged his sleeve as he ran past, hissing violently, "Seth, Jesus fucking Christ, fucking come on or I'll leave you to the goddamned pigs and let you rot!"

Seth stumbled along behind him, though he glanced back once more briefly. "M-Mom's waiting," he said in a complete non sequitur, and Tommy just made a disgusted noise deep in his throat before they disappeared from the view of the camera.

Alone, Boyd dropped to the ground; he looked absolutely stunned and held a hand to his stomach almost absently. He remained on his knees, staring at Lou's body as if everything he ever knew in life was gone and he did not even know how to react. After several long moments of staying as still as a statue, he dropped his hand from his stomach and crawled toward him, leaving a bloody print smeared across the pavement every time he set his hand down.

He did not seem to even notice his wound; he stopped only when he was kneeling next to Lou's body. One hand reached out, shaking so violently that it could be clearly seen from the camera. He said nothing as he slowly touched Lou's hair, remaining eerily silent after how loudly he had been screaming just minutes before. Footsteps could be heard from off the screen coming closer, but Boyd did not listen. His fingers slid into Lou's hair, then moved down, as if trying to comfort Lou, as if he were still alive and he silently wanted him to know that everything would be alright.

Boyd started to reach down to pull Lou up, but his fingers came away completely coated with blood and gore, and he held them before his eyes. His hands shook so badly that the tremors reached all the way to his shoulders, and his expression for one moment was completely and utterly naked. He looked absolutely terrified and horrified; the depth of his emotions did not have proper words. Wild, utterly lost and desolate; he looked beyond any coherent thought, beyond rationality or awareness. He looked so affected that his motor functions almost seemed impaired; he could not breathe, barely blinked, it was like his body shut down, his mind shut down, his entire existence was swallowed whole and had zeroed down to two shaking hands blanketed in someone else's blood. Boyd was gone, his mind looked totally gone, and his breath came in shaky, nearly silent open-mouthed gasps.

Distant, unseeing eyes looked to the side and suddenly he turned, a low, tortured sound escaping his throat; he dropped bloody, gory palms to the ground and violently vomited. His hands curled against the pavement, bits of skin caught between his fingers, parts of Lou coating his shirt as he curled one arm around his stomach as if for support. He could not seem to stop; every time the scratching of drawn breath could be heard, he choked and vomited again. His entire body snapped with the movement, until tears he did not seem aware of coursed down his cheeks and mingled with the saliva he spit on the ground. Throwing up became dry-heaving and that became gagging until he finally seemed too exhausted to continue. Quick, terrified gasps could be heard in the relative silence of the scene, and he turned the same shocked, crazed gaze on Lou's body while he absently wiped his mouth with one arm. Blood smeared across his face, combined with the splatter from before, and with the ash paleness of his skin contrasted with the bruises growing slowly darker, he very nearly looked like a murder victim.

Scuffing sounds could be heard off screen, and a young woman with dark brown hair suddenly appeared at the edge. She seemed a little distracted, looking down at something in her hands, but when she looked up she saw the two immediately. Stumbling back, she drew in a hoarse breath and screamed loudly, the sound piercing the air and echoing around them. Boyd stared at her wildly and crouched over Lou as if to protect him, his bloody hands slipping and sliding over the body as he tried to hold him closer. The woman ran over, screaming hysterically for help with as much terror as if she were the one hurt. Her questions were a deluge of confused fright; "Are you okay?" slurred into "What's wrong?" and "Oh my God, is -- is that a dead body?!"

Boyd ignored her as she shook him, her own hands collecting the blood soaking into him like a second skin. He returned his attention Lou, then leaned forward and hugged him desperately. Clinging to Lou's body as if he were lost in a storm and he was his only stability, his only chance at living, Boyd seemed incapable of backing away. He refused to let go when the woman started trying to yank him away, screaming that he needed help, and he held on even tighter when the police later arrived. His face was buried in Lou's back, his knees braced against the ground and stomach wound seeming to shine brighter with blood the harder she pulled and more stubbornly he fought it. He ended up getting ripped away finally only by sheer force by the police. Two cops tried to hold him still to see if he was actually hurt anywhere; he was completely coated in blood, but most of it was Lou's. His own blood flowed down his shirt and pants freely, weakening him even as adrenaline seemed to give him enough strength to resist, to struggle violently despite the fact he looked pale enough to fall over on the spot.

When the cops only held him tighter for his protection he suddenly screamed hysterically, his voice cracked and hoarse. Boyd stared at Lou wildly and tried to get to him, desperate and mindless and unable to apparently even understand human speech. He kept throwing himself toward Lou's corpse, not paying attention to the harm he was causing himself, the way he seemed to nearly yank his own arm out of its socket or how the blood from his stomach wound was coursing even stronger down his clothing. The police kept pulling him back, yelling at him to stay calm and that it would be okay, and a third and fourth officer arrived to help restrain him. Boyd didn't listen, or maybe he couldn't, and his hysteria only grew. The medics arrived quickly after that and, while the four policemen held him immobile between him, a needle was slipped into his vein.

Whatever he was injected with took a moment to affect him, but Boyd did come back to himself, even if it was slow as he blinked drowsily. He stared at Lou with the same naked expression one more time, not seeming to notice anyone around him, not even realizing that two of the policemen had backed off when he seemed calmer but two of them still held him firmly between them. One of the medics said something to him, a soft murmur that was lost to the background of people walking around the crime scene and talking.

When Boyd looked up to meet the medic's eyes, his emotions were suddenly gone in the space of a blink. There was absolutely no transition; his expression was utterly tortured and agonized, and the next second when he stared at the medic it was as if doors slammed shut on his personality and all that was left was a lifeless blank wall. The effect was so complete that the neutrality made it seem as if his emotions had never existed, as if there was never even the briefest second in his entire life when he felt anything but distant, objective emotionlessness. He looked completely dead, and the change spread through his entire body language so quickly that it was like a virus that ate away at him. There seemed to be no life in his eyes or body as he was pulled onto a gurney; he dropped to the bed when they pushed him down, let them do anything they wanted as he stared without care into space. His chest barely moved, he almost did not blink; with the paleness of his complexion, he seemed to as much of a corpse as Lou was.

They wheeled him away, disappearing into an ambulance at the corner of the screen. One of the cops hovered near Lou's body, crouching down and staring at it quietly. "Shit," he said softly. "Whoever did this really wanted him gone, didn't they?"

No one answered and the video cut out shortly after Lou's body was covered in a bag and taken away.

---

Once again the irrational, alarmed feeling had overcome him as he'd watched the video but this time it was accompanied by the kind of quiet, boiling rage that normally was related to a very violent outburst of some sort. He replayed the video again and watched with an almost clinical detachment, the building anger causing him to focus solely on the acts of violence which were performed. He observed from under heavy lidded narrowed eyes and picked Lou's fighting technique apart with almost cruel disgust at the boy's inability to defend himself and his lover. The sloppy way the gang leader gutted him was not much better and he absently went through several methods of killing that would have been quicker and more efficient. He'd been a professional assassin by the time he was their age; as far as he was concerned there was no excuse for the lack of skill.

But still...

He replayed it again and watched the desperate way Lou fought to defend his friend, heard the anguished wails of Boyd and watched the knife disappear into what had most likely been milky, unmarked flesh. His teeth ground together and his fingers tightened around the mouse.

Lack of evidence, the eventual police file had said, no suspects, unsolved.

He thought about the way Boyd's eyes had sparkled with amusement in the other video; the way he'd smiled and laughed easily. He compared it with the silent, blank faced boy that he'd met several months ago, the one that had seemed like an emotionless droid, the one who was scarily similar to Sin at times. He watched the video yet again and it was when Lou's body hit the ground and the life went out of Boyd's eyes that his resolve firmed. He didn't entirely understand it but that seemed to be the trend lately when it came to Boyd; it was just something he felt strongly, something he knew he had to do. He knew the anger inside of him would never be quieted otherwise and the lust for violence would never go away. For some reason it didn't matter that he hadn't known Boyd during that time, it didn't matter that he'd survived his injuries; it didn't even matter that the attack had most likely been one of the deciding factors that had led to Boyd being where he was in the Agency. All that mattered was the anguished, animalistic screams that had escaped Boyd's mouth when his lover died and the spark that had left his eyes immediately afterwards. It made something inside of him twist painfully, and the dark, violent part of him yearned for blood.

Sin began opening programs and clicking things automatically, face perfectly blank although his eyes burned with the impending madness that always hovered around his peripheral vision. He appeared to be in mission-mode, doing things without thinking, movements quick and concise. He printed out five pages and erased all traces of his history on the computer, leaving the lab with an expression that was a lot deadlier than it had been when he'd gone in.

He took the stairs up to Ryan's apartment again and his fist pounded against the door loudly, enough for the sound to echo through the hall.

Ryan opened the door slowly and stared up at Sin with eyes that were confused and frightened. "D-Did something happen?" He asked softly.

Sin stared down at him blankly and pushed his way into the apartment. "You will look these men up for me," he said flatly.

"What?" Ryan squinted at him with a bewildered look on his face before taking the printed images that Sin held in one white knuckled hand. "Who are these guys? Is this all you have?"

Sin stared at him stonily. "Just do it," He said softly. The impending threat in his voice spoke volumes.

Ryan nodded hastily and shoved the mass of papers and magazines off his desk before taking his seat at the computer. He laid each photograph out in the newly cleared space and chewed his lip. "Are these surveillance stills?" He glanced up at Sin and pushed his glasses up his nose, professional attitude taking over. "I need more to work with than this," He said almost apologetically.

"That one's name is Jared." Sin pointed at the picture. "He's the one I want."

Ryan froze for a moment and almost shuddered at the tone. It was the same tone he'd heard Sin use in the surveillance video right before he'd ripped a man's head clean off his neck. "Um, okay jussec," He stammered and turned on a lamp with an extremely bright bulb. "Okay, so it looks like they're near a First Bank. I know for a fact that after the war there were only three First Banks that re-opened in the city so…" He trailed off and turned to his computer, fingers flying over the keyboard. "Okay, so these pictures were taken in front of the First Bank in what appeared to be Bedford park," He murmured more to himself than Sin. "Used to be a nice area, wealthy folks, but it was prime spot for gang activity and looting after the bombings," He added absently.

Sin crossed his arms over his chest and said nothing, eyes focused on Jared's picture.

"And it looks like they're in the same gang… with a green bandana. Gang with a green bandana in the Bedford area," Ryan mumbled to himself. He focused entirely on the computer screen and his fingers clattered at the keys as he intently studied everything he saw. His mouth pursed into a thin line and he swore several times to himself.

Sin stood completely still, not moving from his position even as the minutes passed and turned into hours. He kept his eyes trained on Jared's picture as though he were trying to memorize every detail of the man's face. He pictured the savage way he'd carved Lou up and heard Boyd's screams echoing in his ears. He began to breathe faster and his eyes burned like green fire. His father had always told him that there were two types of killers; regimented killers and people who killed for sport. Jared killed for sport; it was something that had always disgusted Sin despite the fact that most people thought he was the same way. But it wasn't just that either-- it was the fact that Jared had targeted Boyd, had nearly killed him, had killed Boyd's best friend and turned him into the dead eyed robot that he sometimes resembled. It was those things that made Sin feel an indescribable sense of fury, it was those things that made him crave Jared's blood.

He didn't know why it made him so angry-- didn't know why he even cared but at the moment he didn't let that get in the way.

It was nearly seven by the time Ryan sat up straight in his chair and let out an exclamation. "The Outlaws!" He said excitedly. "God there were fifty fucking gangs in that area with green bandanas," he complained even as he poured over the information he'd apparently found.

Sin's eyes finally dragged away from the photo and trained on Ryan with cold patience. "Yes?"

"Wait-" Ryan said, too swept up in his research to worry about appeasing his idol. "Okay, Outlaws formed before the war… major beef with the Westside gang, got worse over the years-" He mumbled as he read out loud and skimmed the information. "Gang leader Jared Strickland suspected in multiple murders and rapes in the Bedford and Vickland areas but never pinned with any of them! It seems like the police department was protecting him or at least not bothering to investigate entirely. Although my conclusion is that for some reason that police department was in league with the Outlaws. There isn't much on him or evidence of the corruption but there are editorials by the Journalist Guild with speculation, although it doesn't seem like they ever found concrete proof. They actually seemed especially indignant that he was getting away with Boyd's attack in particular, probably because his dad was a famous journalist." He looked up at Sin excitedly and motioned for him to come to his side of the desk. Sin eyed him for a moment before crossing the space that separated them. He stood behind Ryan and leaned over his shoulder, looking at the computer screen impassively. "Is um, this your guy?" Ryan squeaked, more than aware of the way Sin's breath felt on the back of his neck.

"Yes," Sin whispered. "That's my guy." Somewhere in the back of his mind he noted absently that it'd been the same corrupt police department that had tried to pin the Vickland murders on him several years ago. But he wasn't worried about that at the moment.

Ryan nodded distractedly and forced himself to concentrate. "A lot of his cronies are in jail or dead already but somehow this guy has survived. His crimes have piled up a lot over the last few years but for some reason they don't pin him with anything." Ryan scanned the page with an abnormal speed but somehow took in every piece of information. "According to what we have in the database about him, he's still the leader of the Outlaws and currently resides at 289 Hammond Place in the old Warehouse district. Hmm… It seems that he is just squatting there but-"

The sound of the door softly closing interrupted him and his head snapped up. "Hsin?" He looked around in confusion and realized that somehow in the space of fifteen seconds the man had managed to slip out of the apartment unnoticed. Ryan stared at the door incredulously and shook his head. A thank you would have been nice.

===

The warehouse district was one of the only remaining sections of the city that was still entirely functional, but it was after six and most people had gone home for the day. The citywide curfew often forced people to end their work earlier than was needed but it was fortunate for people whom had other kinds of jobs, such as the kind that took place in the darkness and shadows.

289 Hammond Place was one of the abandoned tenement buildings that hovered in one grid of the district. It was dilapidated and against building code, but no one was supposed to live there so nobody cared. Jared Strickland lived on the top floor of the building; it appeared to be half hideout, half drug den; paraphernalia was scattered everywhere in the loft-like space he occupied. He was 24 years old but he looked closer to 45; years of alcohol and drug abuse had aged his features, years of violent crimes and murders had hardened his eyes.

Jared sat on the filthy mattress that sagged on the floor and peered out the window with anxious eyes. His dealer had been due back an hour ago and he felt the familiar sickness coming over him. His hands shook and his lips twisted in a sneer, hating the fact that he had to depend on anyone. Another hour passed and the tremors in his body grew worse; he'd almost made the decision to kill his dealer and get a new one when he heard a soft sound outside his door. "About fucking time," He yelled and struggled to get to his feet. He stood and clung to the wall, shaking so bad he could barely remain upright. A couple minutes passed and his already worn patience gave out. "ARCHIE WHAT THE FUCK?"

The door burst open and Archie's limp body flew through it, landing in the middle of the room with a dull thud. Jared's eyes widened and he stared at his dealer in shock; his dead eyes were wide open and the terror that seemed eternally burned into them was unmistakable. Jared's head whipped up and he stared at the dark figure that stood in his doorway. "Who the hell are you?" The figure walked towards him calmly and the moonlight illuminated one side of the man's face. He looked strangely familiar but Jared couldn't figure out why. "What the fuck do you want, man? I don't even know you!"

The man didn't stop walking until he was standing directly in front of him. Jared pressed his back against the wall and knew that in his current condition, he wouldn't be able to put up any kind of fight. "I don't even have a gun," He said weakly.

The man held up his hands; they were covered in blood. "Neither do I." He had a strange accent but Jared could not place that either.

"Dude-what do you want?" Jared asked desperately, trying to get as far away from the man as he could. The level of danger he could sense in the room was terrifying and he found himself condemning Archie for not killing the guy before he died, or at least slowing him down so Jared would have had a chance to escape. He licked his lips nervously and eyed the man, trying to figure out his game. "Money? Drugs? Fuck man, just tell me what you want!"

A strange, twisted smile crossed the deceptively beautiful features. "I want you to remember this forever," He said softly.

Jared's blood-curdling screams echoed through the warehouse district for hours. No one came to his aid.

---

Boyd pushed some hair out of his eyes and unlocked the door to his house with a rattling of his keys. It was dark inside as usual but he didn't bother turning on the lights. He just carried his bag with him back to his room and dropped it on his bed. He stretched and walked wearily toward the kitchen.

Right then, all he wanted was a cup of warm jasmine tea while he read, nothing more. The mission left him feeling a little unsatisfied. Andrews was pleasant enough at the meeting, but he had little to no information pertaining to Janus. On the other hand, he learned that Thierry stopped contacting him abruptly and that the winter supplies were going over quite well. Andrews' legs were also healing nicely and he was able to get around with two crutches and full casts.

Thierry's sudden disappearance may bode ill for their own attempts to contact him, or maybe it meant he was considering helping the Agency once more. They were still trying to perfect the location, but it seemed likely that soon they would know where to send Boyd and Sin.

Boyd rubbed the back of his neck idly and turned the corner into the kitchen, looking down at his feet as he flipped the light on just so his eyes could adjust better. He glanced up out of habit more than anything as he entered the room, and suddenly realized someone was in the room. Throwing himself backward, he reached for the nearest thing he could find, which happened to be a plate from the counter. He was already holding the plate at an angle to throw before he even stopped to look at the figure totally.

It was a complete shock to see Sin sitting at the kitchen table, his expression blank but eyes exuding the same crazed insanity that usually meant he was close to snapping. And he was absolutely covered in blood. Boyd's heart thundering in his chest from the rush of adrenaline, he froze and stared blankly at Sin for a long moment before he thought to stand up fully.

"God, Sin," he said finally, a little shakily. Setting the plate down with a clatter on the counter, he leaned his hip against the cupboards for a moment before bringing one hand to his forehead, his eyes sliding closed. "You startled me." He didn't even know Sin knew where he lived. What the hell was he doing there? How did he get out of the Agency? Boyd was so incredibly confused that he didn't even want to think about it. Opening his eyes again, he peered in bewilderment at Sin through his hair.

"I'm sorry." The words were spoken quietly but Sin's eyes screamed volumes. He stared directly into Boyd's eyes and was silent once again. His face was splattered with blood; it was dried in his hair. His clothing was stiff with it and it stained the bare skin of his arms; especially caked in his hands and under his fingernails.

Boyd didn't quite know how to react. That seemed an especially sincere apology just for an offhanded comment, and Sin was absolutely covered in blood. He hadn't seen that much blood on him in a long time, if ever. Boyd had no idea what was going on but he pushed away from the counter anyway and decided to treat this like any other conversation.

"It's fine," he said after a long, bewildered pause, and gave Sin a brief, strange look. Turning to the cupboards, he pulled out a bowl and calmly started filling it with warm water. He looked around idly for a rag and finally grabbed an old beat-up hand towel. He turned around and walked toward Sin, setting the bowl on the table and tilting his head slightly. "You had a mission?" he asked calmly.

Sin stared at the towel and then up at Boyd and his hands balled into tight fists. He shook his head wordlessly.

Boyd's hands stilled and he stared at Sin openly now. What the hell? Sin was not always the the sanest or easiest to understand, but this seemed very strange. He didn't dare touch him in case this was the precursor to something like before, but he did kneel down next to him. "Sin... Are you alright?" he asked softly.

His lips parted but no sound came out. Sin gazed into Boyd's honey brown eyes silently for a long moment. His eyes, when they met, were the same pale green insanity, like a void existed behind them and Sin was there in the actions of his body but not in the state of his mind. "I killed a man," He said flatly.

"Oh," Boyd said finally, not knowing what to say. Sin had killed many men before and he never seemed to have this reaction. But, and he searched his mind, had Sin ever spoken to him before when his eyes were wild like that? He couldn't remember a time when he had. This was... bizarre, and Boyd did not know what to do. Every other time Boyd had seen that craziness in Sin's eyes, he had been violent, remorseless, and utterly silent. The fact that he was speaking, and even more that he seemed somehow caught on the idea of killing a man, was incredibly confusing. It made Boyd pause and approach the situation cautiously.

"I'm sorry," he murmured after a moment, wondering if Sin felt guilty for some reason.

There was another shuddering intake of breath. "I ripped him apart." Sin stared at his hands.

Boyd felt a shiver go down his spine but he didn't know why. He stared, feeling as though Sin was almost alien to him; this person in the body of a person he knew fairly well. But this was not the same as his bravado, sarcasm, quiet intensity or even his silent madness. This was something new, and Boyd felt a little unbalanced. Why the hell was Sin here? What was wrong with him? He did not dare do so many things, because with this new Sin he didn't know what would trigger a homicidal rage and what would make him fall back to the casual, quiet joking person he was growing used to. He felt out of his depth, but especially he felt that this was about more than he knew. There had to be a lot of weight to the story if Sin showed up at Boyd's house, out of nowhere, covered in blood and actually shuddering about it.

Boyd stared at Sin, and found himself almost wanting to put his hand on his leg, shoulder, head -- just somewhere to show him that someone was here who would not hurt him. But he would probably interpret that as an attempt on his life, and Boyd really did not feel like being thrown around the room until he could snap Sin out of it.

"Did he deserve it?" Boyd asked finally, his voice soft.

Sin's gaze rose and he stared at Boyd from under his bangs; eyes seeming to glow in the darkness. "Yes," He uttered so quietly that it was nearly a whisper.

"Well," Boyd murmured, unsure of what to say. "Then you did well, Hsin."

Sin stared at Boyd for a long time and the familiar gleam of madness slowly, very slowly this time, disappeared. His eyebrows drew together and he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table and putting his head in his hands for a long moment. The minutes dragged by and Sin stayed that way, breathing deeply before finally releasing a slow, shuddering sigh. His fingers threaded through his hair, which was crusted over with dry blood. When he finally dropped his hands, he looked at Boyd. Although he no longer seemed on the edge of snapping, the weary, haunted look was still in his eyes. "Sorry," He muttered hoarsely, although it was unclear what specifically he was sorry for.

Boyd nodded, stared at him a little strangely, and stood. He turned to the water that was still warm and dipped the towel into the bowl. He wasn't entirely certain what had just happened, where Sin just was in his mind, but he knew the moment was over. Still, it made him think of the times Sin had exhibited the same insanity, and how Boyd had never had the chance to understand what it meant. "What happens to you when you get like that?" he asked calmly, watching Sin carefully in his peripheral vision.

Sin raised an eyebrow and for a moment it seemed as though he was struggling to act 'normal' and was going to say something sarcastic or witty. But he didn't, he just didn't have the energy or the will and all Sin could see was the events of the past few hours. Events that shouldn't affect him but did for some reason; the weary look settled back on his face. Sin shook his head and tried to regain his bearings, trying to shake himself out of the thoughts plaguing him, trying to tell himself that what he did had been deserved, even if Jared had been defenseless and the wild insanity that had seized control of him had completely destroyed the man's body. "What do you mean?"

Noticing that Sin seemed conflicted but in the end did not slip back into the act, Boyd turned toward him fully. He wrung the water out of the towel, then stopped and stared at him. "I will clean the blood off you if you'll allow it," he told him, so Sin had ample warning and would not snap. "And I mean that just a moment ago, as has happened in the past, I have been in