(เทิร์นแรกอยู่ที่บล็อคของ Owen Han http://hkichio.exteen.com ค่ะ เพียงแ่ค่ยังไม่มา (...) แต่เริ่มอ่านจากนี่เลยก็ได้ :'3 ไม่มีปัญหาค่ะ)
It had never occurred to him how his idea of fun would take its toll on him this way. Or, rather, he would choose it this way. Kirsch Oistrach knew oh so well that he couldn’t keep tossing the boy’s mind around, observing and studying how would said boy react to his actions. It sure was fun messing with him with such matter as love or fondness away from one’s mind. Owen Han had been nothing but his test subject from the very start, hadn’t been but a certain thing for him to stuck his scalpel in and study deep what lies inside. So far he had seen but a child’s ignorance, not suitable for someone working for such organization the boy sure was. So far he had been seeing only pouts, nags, and acts of child. And a wise thing it was for him to keep his distance away, measuring his steps carefully, trying not to fall knee-deep into fathering the boy.
It had to be this way, him and the boy lunging towards each other with bullets. Kirsch snorted quietly in his mind. It’s no doubt his cover is a blown-off at this moment. Good. He won’t have to go lengths and try explaining to him what it was and who was he, really. But he didn’t expect it to be him against two agents from the opposing side. What was her name again? Was it Faust? And just Han for him? Ironically, she had such a good name for bad guy- too bad she isn’t, she’s supposed to be on the ‘good’ side. There was a blow delivered his way. Kirsch dodged down, just to be greeted with a boot striking at his face. His arm went up to no avail, as the impact collided with both his face and arm, sending him stumble backwards. He had read Faust before, it was about a man selling his soul to demon and trying to regain it afterwards. He was an alchemist, wasn’t he? Surely not some kind of fighter this lady turned out to be. Regaining himself and hop up on his feet swiftly, he brushed off the blood that dripped down above his lips. Oh great. And his gun was about three meters away. Kirsch looked at both of the MIEs, and just smiled.
“Hey, little miss Faust. It was quite a blow. That, you can be assured.” He smiled as cunning as the devil himself as he inched closer to both of them. “Trained for when a psycho harass you, eh, I suppose?”
Faust stiffened up at his taunt. A nice view. Sure feel good when someone is giving you a worrywart stare.
“It was meant for a certain someone as you.”
He chuckled. “Of course.”
His gaze then flew towards Han, standing ever so stiffly, clutching at his gun, looking not so certain for an agent.
“How is it for you, dealing with all those things rummaging inside your brain?” Kirsch tilted his head, tapping a finger at his temple slightly, enjoying how he could see that cold, hard face staring back. Lips bitten, almost as if he’s facing a dangerous threat. Well, it’d better be.
Han didn’t answer him back. He almost felt sorry for the boy as he inched yet closer, his stare fixed on that youthful face. Faust shouted something in the distance as if she was trying to shake some rationality into the boy. Yet, Kirsch hand was faster as it went up to touch his face gingerly, blue eyes looking ever so threatening.
“I’m sorry, but…” He then wore an apologetic smile. “I need my gun.” For just a mere second.
Taking him off-guard, Kirsch lunged his free hand up Han’s abs, sending him crouching over as he, himself, leapt forward, picking up his Steyr MP34, holding it snuggly in his palms.
Faust then sent another firm set of bullets from her Baretta his way, to which Kirsch let his Steyr do the talking job. The chaotic scene then took over the entire area again.
It would be over-exaggerate to say that to felt sorry for the boy being fooled. He wasn’t sorry for the prior event, just a tingling bit, slightly sorry, for Han to fall into his game of one, being puppeteer on his palms. The boy should have known that all of what he had done was none of kindness or fondness. It was but of curiosity, wanting to see how far would he be able to drive Han off the edge, how far would he be able to mess around the boy’s head. It was of pure curiosity and he had never regret that it was so.
Ouch. Kirsch felt a sharp pain at his left arm. A bullet came ripping his shirt tore and dyed it red at the open brim. He sent yet another firm set of bullet back, hoping it would his either the boy or the lady. He felt however sorry for Faust to be caught it between him, the devil, and his target in luring deep into hell. But he sure would spare nothing, would regret no step he was taking, for all of which his goal was but for him and him alone. For his goal was nothing but for him on the far end of victor. He would allow no one to interrupt or to lay pebbles and nails onto his way.
He had never love Han, had never cared for the boy, had never done any act of kindness, apart from those out of curiosity.
He had never intend to spare anyone any of his kindness, any of his worry glances, any of his gentleness buried deep inside him. Not even the lady standing up fighting him here.
He must win, he alone must win. To prove that his means of living is yet valid.
That this path he had taken is yet his to take.