Three things registered themselves to Kessler as he opened his eyes: he had blacked out for possibly several hours, he was freezing cold, and he was under water. He didn't panic, for he had woken up in this exact situation several times before. He could tell that he was less than a foot below the water's surface. He instinctively shot up and sat with his back stiff as a board, gasping deeply for breath. His long hair was sticking to his cold wet face and he brushed it aside with his hand. He looked down and saw that he was completely dressed, except for his fedora, which was floating at the other end of the bath tub he had awoken in. He grabbed it and shook off some of the water before placing it back on his head. He felt a strange prick in his left bicep. With out bothering to look, he reached over with his right hand and yanked the needle out of his arm. Knowing that he had to face the day, he let out a groan as he hoisted himself up out of the freezing liquid.

"I really should try to remember what I do after losing it more often. And I have really got to quit. I'm gonna destroy myself sooner rather than later..." he muttered to himself. No sooner had he finished this statement did he hear slow but strong knocking at the suite's door. He lumbered out of the room groaning, "Oh, for God's sake..."

Kessler walked across the main room and answered the door and found himself face to face with a tall muscular man wearing a dark suit. Kessler made a correct guess that the man was surprised by the sight of him, seeing as he was soaked to the bone with icy water and was still fully dressed in his white tailcoat suit, which was covered in stains of vomit, blood, and alcohol. The two men stared at each other in silence for a very long moment. Kessler took the initiative to break it.

"What?"

In response, the man before him seemed to pull two boxes out of thin air; one was large and cubic, the other long and narrow. He shoved both into Kessler's shaking arms with some force, making the wealthy addict stagger back, and then slammed the door.

Kessler just stood there staring at the door. "What the...?" Pain then entered his arms. He began to feel weak and cold all over. He turned on his heels and walked over to the bed, where Akitsu was sitting up covered by the comforters and waiting for him. He put the two parcels down onto the bed and noticed a small envelope taped to the top of the cubic one. Curiosity got the better of him. He snatched it off the box and ripped it open. Inside was a simple letter which he read out loud after sitting down on the blankets covering the bed:

"'Mister Kessler, while most people in your position would be formally greeted, yours has served her purpose. She is broken and useless, so I don't really care if you participate or not. However, it is clear Akitsu is in need of what is in the package. And finally, dont leave the city or tell anyone about what she is just yet, unless of course you have made peace and have no regrets. Have fun, the Game-Master.'"

He gazed at the writing, mouth slightly open in confusion. "'Served her purpose'? What?" He turned his head and looked over his shoulders to find that his latest lover had taken interest in the brown parcel. Taking the cue, he pulled out one of his switch-blades he kept hidden in his spats and sliced it open like he had done to his wrists several times. Inside was a large white item of clothing. He tossed aside the knife and grabbed it by the hems, pulling it up. The first thing he noticed, before taking into account it was some sort of dress, was that it had chains connected to it on the shoulders. "What the Hell..."

"MBI has sent clothing for me," Akitsu said with her usual voice of disinterest. Kessler was too confused by what was going on, and the pain he was feeling in his bones, to question this matter any further. He passed the dress to Akitsu and preceded to tear apart the other package. This one contained an object that was instantly familiar to him. It was his custom-made walking stick. Solid silver with a handle that ended with a small orb of the same gleaming color; he knew that he could pull it apart and reveal that it was in actuality a sword.

"I don't know who sent me this," he said marveling at his treasure, "and I really don't care."

He turned himself to face Akitsu and was once again surprised by what was presented to him. Akitsu had put on the dress with unbelievable speed. Its chains wrapped around her neck and went down her cleavage which was very, very exposed. He just sat there, feeling both concerned that the metal collar around her neck was uncomfortable, and aroused by the amount her ample chest was revealed.

"Nice." That was his reaction. Deciding not to dwell on what he could have a moments notice, he clasped his hands together. "Okay, that solves everything except one... tiny issue."

"What would that be, Kessler-sama?" Akitsu asked in her usual tone.

"Okay, two tiny issues. First off: STOP with the 'sama' shit. In fact, don't even call me by my last name. Just call me... uhhh..." He didn't know what to have her refer to him as in a casual sense. All his life he had been regarded with respect. "We'll get to that." Taking a deep breath, he prepared for the next little problem he was about to address, eventhough it was hardly a problem; more like a pet-peeve. And he was surprised it would be insulting to her. He slowly raised his hand and pointed to her forehead. "Secondly, that."

"My mark." It was not a question. Akitsu raised her own hand and rubbed the Sekirei symbol on her forehead. She wasn't surprised her Ashikabi (as is what she saw him as) was disgusted by it. After all, it was a permanent reminder to the world that she was on level with scrap metal.

"They call tattoos marks in this country?" Kessler asked, temporarily losing focus. It came back to him. "Anyway, yeah. Not to be insulting or rude, but... could we... I dunno, hide it or something?"

Akitsu hid her relief that he did not in fact know what the symbol and that he thought it was nothing but ink under her skin. "I do not mind."

"Great! Maybe with some makeup... and perhaps we could fashion your hair so it has bangs that conceal it even further. And after that, we just gotta get out of here. The smell of our coitus is starting to get to me..."

A few hours later, Akitsu found herself sitting in the passenger seat of a muscle car her mate had bought out of boredom and on a single whim. They were speeding through the streets, blissfully unaware that they were being followed.

"My family back home is very powerful," he explained to her as he kept his eyes on the road. "We have owned manufacturing factories since the Civil War. My sister and I are the heirs to it, and since our grandfather believes charities are for suckers, we have a very nice personal account since our family has pulled a profit every single day since the eighteen-nineties. Except of course for the Great Depression. Nobody survived that."

Akitsu was surprised and intrigued by the least expected part. "You have a sister?"

"Twin sister," he clarified. "I admit, I love her, but we ain't talked in about ten months, which sounds about right..." He risked a look at her as he came to a stop at a red light. His business instinct told him she was hiding something.

"Say, Kit..." She looked at him. She hid it well, but she felt a warm feeling course through her when he called her that nickname he had given her. "... is there something you..."

XXXXXX FIVE YEARS AGO XXXXXX

"... are not telling me?" Kessler asked one of his distributers, nicknamed Frosty, as Kessler never bothered remembering the names of his lessers unless they were directly under him. Here ghey were, in a shabby, run-down apartment in Salem. It looked, and smelled, like a dump. It was somewhat appropriate, seeing as its tenants looked like he slept in dumpsters every night.

"No Mr. Kessler. Nothin' at all, I swear," Frosty answered nervously. He had the right to be wary. He was on his knees with his very anger-prone boss crouched down looking right at him. That was bad enough, except the infamous heir had unsheathed a sword from his walking stick, and the sharp side was currently resting on Frosty's neck. A simple twitch of Kessler's arm and he would paint the room crimson.

"It's Lord Kessler to you," he said with the same composed and dignified voice that was ever present. "And I can fell you're lying to me."

The dealer gave no answer.

Kessler simply smiled and continued. "You see, my boys here found something rather interesting in your truck. You've got a lot of it, nearly twice more than your usual haul. And just this morning, you told me you needed more time. Now, I really hate being lied to... especially to my face... but since you have proved your worth several times over..."

Kessler removed tbe blade from his subordinate's neck and stood up. Frosty moved to bring himself up to his full height as well. Kessler stopped him by kicking him in the left knee. Frosty fell to the unwashed floor, crying out in pain.

"Don't bother," Kessler said down to him in a very suave tone before stomping on the already assaulted joint. He left the room and made his way to the kitchen. It looked exactly as he had expected it to. The garbage can was over-flowing, a half-eaten meal was still on the table, and scores of utensils were scattered all over the counter top. Kessler began looking through the mess to find a suitable instrument for the treacherous distributer, talking aloud to himself as he always did.

"Let's see here. Butcher knife? Too clichè. Meat cleaved? Nah, it'll take to long to get to the real fun. I've always wanted to tear out someone's heart with spoon... but not today. Ah, here we go!" He brushed aside a few objects and picked up a corkscrew. "I wonder which eye he uses the most?"

XXXXXX BACK TO THE NOW XXXXXX

Kessler was pulled out of his vivid memory, when he saw something move from the corner of his eye. It ran right in front of them, in the street, and was gone in a flash. The blurr took him by surprise.

"Whoa! Did you see that?!"

Akitsu remained silent for a moment before responded with a simple "no."

"Huh..." He began to unwind his locked limbs. "I must be going crazy. Or at least crazier..."

The light above turned green, and Kessler pressed down hard, putting pedal to the metal. The tires screeched on the pavement, and the car remained in place for a moment before going forward. They didn't make it far. No sooner were they gaining momentum did another vehicle slam into them, making both automobiles form a rough T. The impact had been on the driver side, effectively sending Kessler into Akitsu's lap. The woman had remained as expressionless as ever.

Kessler groaned and rubbed his head. He looked up at his enigmatic lover. "You okay?"

She simply nodded.

Kessler then began to wonder if he was okay. He could still move every part of himself, and nothing was numb.

"Good enough for me. Now then..."

XXXXXX

Mikogami and Mutsu pulled themselves out of the limo and into the sunlight.

"Damn it all!" The young and powerful Ashikabi shouted. He wasn't concerned about the luxurious car that had just been wrecked, or even the possible injuries inflicted upon him by the crash. No his main reason for anger was he had lost sight of the Sekirei he had been pursuing. And Mutsu knew this.

"I think you have bigger problems," he said to the boy who had winged him.

"Like what?"

Mutsu pointed to the front of their vehicle. Mikogami saw that the driver of the other car, as well as his girlfriend, were pulling themselves out of their muscle car, and the man looked furious.

"So what?" Mikogami said with a dismissive wave. "Can't you just-"

"No, I can't," Mutsu said, cutting the rest of his question off. Before elaboration could be given, the other driver was quickly and angrily making his way towards them. Mikogami saw the damage that had been done. The stranger's suit had rips and shards of glass in it, as well as stains he could not identify, and blood was pouring out of his mouth. He stomped right up to them. He was about as tall as Mutsu, but not quite.

"You..." his voice was shaking with rage and dripping with poison. His body was shivering, as if trying, and failing, to put together a name that was able to insult the two Sekirei hunters on the highest level. He never actually looked them in the eye. He just paced back and forth in front of them, like a tiger in a cage. "You idiotic... you pile of..." he began gritting his teeth, and then he took in a deep breath. Not to calm himself, but to prepare the screaming.

XXXXXX

Karasuba felt the unfamiliar warmth course through her as she looked down at the scene. She had been jumping from rooftop to rooftop, following the man who made the heat fill her. She had not understood earlier, and curiosity had made her pursue. He seemed like all the other pathetic, spineless humans earlier. Except now it seemed to make sense. The crash probably would have killed most other humans, or made them whine and scream like newborns, but he wasn't injured, or if he was, he was concealing it extremely well. Instead, he seemed to be full of rage, and here he was, yelling out insults and subliminal death threats to the boy who currently held the rank of strongest Ashikabi.

After a few minutes, he seemed to run out of breath and simply walked away, ignoring due process. Karasuba had to follow him...

XXXXXX

When they were at the door of the hotel they resided, Akitsu worried deeply when Kessler told her he wanted to be alone.

"Go back to the suite," he said, handing her the key. "I need air." He just kept walking down the sidewalks to wherever they might take him.

He kept putting one foot in front of the other, forcing his sore body to move, even though it begged him to just fall over and succumb to whatever wanted to consume him. But he refused. His stubbornness had gotten him this far in life. He suddenly stopped walking. He didn't know why, something within him just suggested it, and he concurred. He looked around, and saw that he was alone. He was in the middle of a city that was always on the move and he was alone.

He heard thunder overhead. That didn't bother him much, getting wet never killed anyone, right? He looked up to find a grey sky. He pressed his hand into the wall of the building he was standing next to in an attempt to find some form of balance. The rough structure dug into his palm, but he didn't notice, as his bones felt like they were on fire.

"Feeling down?" A voice asked from behind him. He quickly turned around to see just who was there. He hated been snuck up on. It was a woman. She had on a tight black outfit with a huge grey coat draped overover her shoulders. Her eyes made it look like she was tired but kept going despite the lack of energy. Her hair, tied in a ponytail, was just as grey as the coat. Her face was ageless; it was impossible to tell if she was in her twenties or sixties. What really caught Kessler's eye was the sword and scabbard on her hip.

Seeing the bladed death-dealer, Kessler swallowed and let a nervous laugh. "Ah ha ha, no. I'd say its a case of..." he couldn't think of a proper term, mostly due to his fear of him ending up without an arm in the next minute.

She took a step towards him, and he took a step back. The woman simply kept her tired smile on her pale face, as if she found him amusing, like this was just a game to her.

"What's the matter?" She asked with that uncomfortable smile. "I won't bite you. At least not hard." She began making her way towards him again. He again took steps back to maintain the distance between them. Unfortunately his back collided with a wall.

Kessler found himself unable to move as they locked eyes and he innately let out another nervous laugh. "I think my trepidation is justified, what with that on you." He pointed down to the sword.

She seemed to know what he was talking about, as she didn't look down. Instead she leaned forward on him, making their chests squish into each other. If Kessler wasn't so focused on getting out of this alive, he would be aroused.

"Can you feel the heat?" She asked.

"I feel cold sweat rolling down my neck," he answered honestly. "And I feel the need to ask your name before you kill me."

She laughed at that. "My name is Karasuba, and I'm not going to kill you."

"You're not?" Kessler's fear deteriorated. It didn't occur to him that she might have been lying.

"Of course not..." her voice slowly became more and more sultry. "Not after what I saw earlier."

"Yelling at that kid?" Kessler was surprised. This woman was into emotional BDSM it seemed. "That was despicable. I've never regretted any of my actions before, not even after I killed my old roommate. But yelling at that Innocent boy-"

He never got the chance to realize he had revealed a major secret of his life, nor would he be able to regret it, becausethe silver-haired vBiden leaned forward and kissed him. He didn't know how to react. He just stayed where he was. Suddenly, she pulled away from him. Her eyes were closed and she had a look of ecstacy on her face. Then, a nearly blinding light began to invade his line of sight. It was like the sun at first, but it slowly died away until it blinded him no longer and he got to see just what it was. Wings. Wings of pure light, white like ice were on her back. They too slowly faded until nothing remained. It was as if they had never been there.

Taking into account what he had just seen, Kessler came to the only conclusion his drug-and-alcohol riddled mind could muster.

"I'm dead."

Karasuba could not help but laugh at that. She backed away to give him some room.

"No, I'm serious," he said. "That car crash killed me. The only thing is... I expected Hell to be more... fiery and full of screams..."

Karasuba kept her tired smile across her face as she slapped him across the right cheek. He put his hand over the red spot and looked at her with his mouth slightly agape. "What was that for?!"

"You can still feel pain, therefore you're most likely still alive." She said, never losing that grin, which Kessler silently admitted was growing on him.

"Point taken. So what about that freaky light show?" Kessler suspected he had simply taken more 'medicine' earlier than he had thought.

Karasuba chuckled. She was looking forward to his next reaction. "I'm what they call a Sekirei."

"What's that? A call girl who doesn't charge?"

She slapped him again.

XXXXXX

A/N: I realize my mistake from the first incarnation of this story. Kessler didn't have any problems in the present. Sure he regularly talked about his trauma in childhood, but that was all in the past. This time around, I want to make him far more dark. Also, I am aiming to make him a little less likable. And I feel I have in some ways aachieved that with the flashback. Behind the clueless-but-kind disposition, deep in his core he is something like a human Megatron.