Out with a Bang

Disclaimer: Not mine but you already knew that.

AN. Inspiration from -man chapter 168, Crossroads. If you haven't read it, the following may be a bit confusing.

I don't care about the "14th"!!

I won't let him have this!!!

His apprentice's words echoed in Cross's head as he slowly nursed his shallow glass of wine. The smooth red liquid caught the dim light coming from the large portrait window Cross was sprawled against, making the blood coloured wine shimmer.

'There's nothing I can do for him.'

Cross took a mouthful. The bitter tang did nothing to sooth him. In fact it left him feeling vastly disappointment. The Order ordered the cheap stuff for him again.

'He can't be saved, lost to the overwhelming force of the Fourteenth.' Cross's mind mused before his body gave out a haphazard hiccup 'I'm such a bad, bad master.' He gave an amused patronising smirk.

Cross sloshed the wine in his stained glass a couple of times. He stared down into it and dared the liquor to answer the questions he could not. The red liquid offered him nothing except a brief bought of dizziness caused by the spinning drink.

Cross squeezed his eyes closed to the point of physical pain. He slowly released the tension and blinking away tiny grey spots lifted his head to peer around the room. His eyes not truly taking in the generous space of the room, nor the bold colours on the detailed architecture.

'I was never supposed to get this close.'

Cross didn't notice the long pause in his breathing.

'He was never meant to matter.'

In the end do you always have to sacrifice something to protect something else?

Cross sighed, he needed a smoke.

Cross placed his glass on the sill next to him then rose from his perch with an unsteady wobble. Forced to lean against the window frame to regain his balance, Cross grabbed his head as he waited for the room to stop spinning. The world slowed to a slight sway and Cross chanced a step. However, the earth was in a humorous mood and danced out from under his feet. Quick reactions were all that stopped Cross from falling on his face but the bold red, floor length curtain that framed the large windows suffered an unsightly tear in the process.

After a rapid shake of the head which did more harm than good, Cross staggered his way to the small table in the middle of the room. Ungraceful hands slapped at the table in search for the carton of cigarettes, knocking over empty wine and brandy bottles to join those already littering the floor.

Finally finding what he was searching for Cross rapidly opened the box and pulled the last stick out from where it laid. Not bothering to shut the box he threw it towards the table missing by a good distance. A swift pat of his clothing revealed a match stuck in Judgements holster and a habitual strike of the match had Cross quickly inhaling on his filthy addiction.

With the smoke clenched tightly in his mouth Cross made his way back to the window seat. His path not in the least bit straight. Picking back up his drink with his left hand and astonishingly not spilling a drop Cross flopped on the sill banging his right shoulder against the glass.

Taking a long breath and blowing out the haze Cross turned to look back out onto the raining streets. Burrowing deeper into the wooded frame Cross raised his right leg to join him on the window sill. Minutes pasted with no noise but those of the rain drops on the glass and the rhythmic inhale and exhale on the cigarette.

When the smoke was just half finished Cross flicked it, still a light, at the tan painted wall across from him. It didn't reach, landing just short of its destination and fell onto the cream carpet. Cross didn't care about the stain the ashes were leaving, just turned back towards the window and closed his eyes.

When Mana said he loved me, did he mean me or...

Cross opened his eyes back up and tried to ignore the words that had drifted through his head but the unwanted drop in his chest lingered. Groaning, Cross went to lift his glass to his lips only to stop the motion half way. He held the glass out in front of him for a solemn moment before raising his glass to the air in a mock cheer, not at all concerned about the amount that sloshed over the edge of the gritty rim.

'Here's to you, my apprentice'

He threw back his head and drowned the half glass in one miserable practiced swig.

He let his hand fall to his side as he turned back towards the widow, the joints in his neck popping. The last few drops of his wine dripped slowly to the ground. It sounded like that of a struggling heart beat getting slower and slower. It had a disturbingly calming effect.

Keep on walking... never stop.

'Ah but my idiot apprentice, would even you keep walking if your path only led to a painful bitter end? '

Cross let his head fall back against the window frame, only to sit back up with a quiet hiss. Eyes shut in a reflex to the unexpected pain, his hand rose to gently prod at the back of his skull. Obviously the swelling on his head where his idiot apprentice had smacked Timcampy at him was still there and still incredibly tender.

"He's gotten so cheeky" Cross voiced out load.

A sudden flicker of bright doe eyes surrounded by snowy hair darted through Cross's subconscious. Cross smirked as he remembered the wide eyed stare of disbelief Allen would provide him as he relieved him of his hard earned money. He would have never dared to chuck something at him before. Cross gave full body snicker.

"I guess it hasn't been all bad for him here..."

*Knock Knock*

Cross lost his smile as he turned to the door. His unmasked eye narrowed.

'So I was right.'

A thrilling wave of fear rushed up his body, starting from his toes and made its way up his spine to borrow deep into the reaches of his intoxicated mind. He didn't even blink as he watched the door in a sick state of anticipation. There was no noise from his guards/care-takers. No sound to indicate that there was anyone situated outside the door besides the heavy knocking.

'Looks like I pissed a few too many people off with my talk about a third side' Cross smirked.

A dark shadow was seen from under the wooden doorway. The silhouette showed no disenable features. No lips no nose, no recognizable human characteristics. Cross's lip turned up into an ironic twist.

'We do serve a vengeful God, and an even more vengeful church. These are, after all, men of god.'

*Knock Knock*

Cross tossed his empty wineglass off to the side. The shatter of the braking crystal went unnoticed by the tense General. He slowly lowered his leg from the ledge, eyes never leaving the polished brass door handle.

*Knock*

Cross heaved his body up from where it had been resting and turned to face the door, leaning forward in wicked anticipation. Reaching his right hand across his body he pulled out his gun almost leisurely from its place at his side. Savouring the way it left its holster and settled so familiarly into his grip. He held it up so that the light glinted off its fine art work. The styled crossed shone in the exquisite irony.

Weighing the gun that felt strangely weightless for whatever reason, Cross's eyes flickered up to watch the shadow beneath the door. Then a warped smile pulled at Cross's lips.

'Like I'm going to give the church the pleasure of killing me.'

In a trance like state Cross gradually turned the barrel from where it was pointed at the door towards his own head. Settling the nose of the gun so it was level with his masked eye, Cross played witness to a moment so many Akuma had seen before. The world held its breath.

I'll keep walking till the day I die

'Good Luck... Allen'

He squeezed the trigger.

*Click*

The clatter of a broken mask echoed in the sudden silence.