Killer code 21
Apr. 1st, 2015 01:12 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
unmeiboyKiller code 21
Nikaido/Senga (Kis-My-Ft2)
(Agent) AU, 2000 (+650) words, PG-13 (R for alternate end). Weapons, death
It had been their first large scale mission, and it had started out perfectly.
Senga's mind is still all fire and explosions when they're speeding down the highway, hearts beating at double their normal pace. He jumps at the mechanical sound of the top of Nikaido's matte black cabriolet going down, swings his head around to stare at his partner, as if asking if he's crazy.
The wind plays in his hair, and Nikaido is wearing a strange smile on his face. So oddly calm, but then his eyes are sparkling with both excitement and determination, and Senga wishes he could be like him. He feels nothing of what he assumes Nikaido is feeling. Inside him is just a hole of hopelessness, of fear, of desperation to get out of there and hide until he's safe again.
“I feel like I'm falling,” he says, and it doesn't even make sense to himself. All he knows is the feeling of an inevitable end closing in on them, the feeling of being dragged deeper until he can't breathe.
“That's the realization,” Nikaido answers, “just accept it.”
And Senga knows exactly why Nikaido pulled the top down.
It had started out perfectly. They had gotten everything in time, the plans went just as they were supposed to. By far not their first mission; but their first big scale one, the first one that had taken more than just a couple of months to plan, to prepare for. They had memorized the interior of the building, the passwords for the doors, the faces of the staff, had it infiltrated for by a third agent for insider help. Senga had put together weapons; nothing to kill with, only to defend, to distract. Of the two of them, Nikaido was the only one to have had missions involving ending a person's life; Senga had wanted to avoid doing so as far as possible.
But at one point, it had all gone wrong. Nikaido had been in the main vault when Senga's wireless in-ear headphone had come to life with a beep.
“They're coming. Over.” Agent K hadn't been supposed to talk to them unless something happened. “They” couldn't be anyone other than the police.
“How far? Over.” Panic rose in his chest. “Nikaido, hurry the fuck up!” he had hissed as loudly as he dared.
“Entering through the back entrance as we speak. They have weapons, the commander is telling them to shoot. They know it's not just any organization. Get out of there, now.”
Nikaido had returned to his side the second time he called for him; the requested papers in hand, and face with a complete lack of emotion.
“Back entrance,” was all Senga had said, and Nikaido had taken the decision for them. There had only been two ways out, one the main entrance, the other the loading docks. Without a word they set out, not running but still stressing their steps; they would have to pass close to the main entrance to get to the loading docks. Their original way out had been the back entrance, but being blocked by the police there was nothing else to do but throw that plan away, replace it with the second plan.
The alarms never went off, but judging by the look of Nikaido's face, that didn't make it any better. Senga had only seen him like that once before; thinking hard, breathing deeply, walking with determined steps, and that had been last time they had had to change plans during a well-prepared mission. That time, they had made it out fine. But that time, the police hadn't been involved, and the mission had been much easier. And this time, getting caught would mean the end.
Thinking back at it, Senga knows they should have done it differently. That they should have gone in circles, rounded the vault on the second floor to come back at the back entrance, exit through it, because the police were already assuming they would go for the docks. They had caught up with them close by the main entrance, with an extra force of men outside it.
“Stay calm,” Nikaido has mumbled to him through the corner of his mouth, and with slow, shaky breaths Senga had repeated their routine, the one they had trained for in case they got caught.
First, checking ways out. Agent K contacted him again, told him there would be a car waiting by the loading docks; he was unable to answer, but tapped the miniature microphone attached to his collar to let him know he had heard it. Their ideal way out would therefore still be the docks; they would just have to get through the situation in the lobby.
Second, distracting. It begun with Nikaido stepping out in front of them, hands open and by his sides. Doing so means the police now knows his face, and very well, at that; he risked that for both of their lives, even though it meant he could never do this job again. Then Senga had stepped out too, but his hands hadn't been empty.
The first thing he had thrown had been a smoke bomb, and just as they had foreseen, the police began shooting towards them the very moment it exploded. Getting behind the wall for protection wouldn't have been hard; the police would be coming for them, though, and some smoke wouldn't stop them, sight unclear or not. He had thrown the second bomb only seconds later, on Nikaido's command, a nod just before he was also wrapped in the smoke. A hand had taken his once he had thrown the explosives, and together they had made it behind the wall, into the corridor.
That's the second thing that went wrong. Because what was supposed to be a smaller bomb, enough to shock but not to make any big harm, exploded with a ten double force. They could hear the glass doors shatter as they ran from there, a ringing in their ears and then the screams, and when Senga turned around, he had seen a man silently fall to the floor, face stained red with blood.
Somehow, they made it out, to the car parked outside for them, with keys in the lock ready for them to just go; Nikaido got into the driver's seat, driving out of there before Senga has even closed the passenger door. A glance in the rear-view mirror and he had seen policemen stopping on the docks, not jumping down them like they had done. Nikaido had pushed the accelerator flat to the floor and sped up, knowing there was little time to for them get back to their base and change cars.
“Fuck,” he had cursed when the car wouldn't go as fast as his own, but apart from that, he had remained calm.
“Get your things,” Nikaido had ordered him as he stopped the car a block from their base, and they had set off in a sprint, aware the police would be there any minute. “I'll get a gun.” No more words had been exchanged, but Senga knew he'd wait by Nikaido's car either way. It's what they had agreed on if the worst was to happen.
And now there he is, in the passenger seat of Nikaido's car, his bag dropped carelessly in the slim space behind the seats. It's calmer now, almost like time stopped, only the wind against his face and the sounds of cars passing by, loud without the top up. The scene of the explosion keeps playing on repeat in his head; he can't understand what went wrong, how he could possibly have mixed the explosives into something that strong without realizing, and he can't forget the man falling to the floor. Lifeless.
“I saw a body,” he speaks, again out of nowhere, and Nikaido glances at him through the corner of his eye, then turns back to the road as he drives past a huge truck.
“There was more than one.” It's a calm statement, because Nikaido isn't new to dead people, isn't new to killing. And had it been a mission to kill someone, then maybe Senga would have found it easier, but now it all happened because of a mistake he made. Now they can't turn back.
His thoughts are interrupted by Nikaido cursing, and the next thing he knows is the voice of a policeman in a megaphone, shouting at them to slow down and stop. Nikaido of course doesn't do as told; instead he speeds up and grabs the gun.
“Take the wheel,” he growls at Senga, and he barely has time to react before Nikaido has let go of it and turns around completely. There's a burn on his left hand, fiercely red and without doubt painful, but even so he manages to hold the gun incredibly still as he aims for the police car. The shot goes off and Senga jerks at the sound, but keeps the steering wheel under control. He doesn't turn around to check when Nikaido puts the gun back and takes over; the sound of cars crashing behind them is all he needs to know.
Senga is about to say something about how they have quite literally dug their own graves, but then Nikaido is locking eyes with him, and they seem to be burning. He's so high on adrenaline, the stare is so intense yet so deep, and then there's a hand in his hair, a tight grip pulling him in close. Senga doesn't protest when their lips crash together, mouth already open for Nikaido's tongue when he licks at him, meets it with his own. It's hot, rushed, and right about nothing is calm about Nikaido anymore, his desperation shines through like he's not even trying to hide it.
Even though it only lasts a couple of seconds it's as though Nikaido has to tear himself away from Senga to focus on the road instead. Senga doesn't ask about it, just catches his breath and lets the wind cool his skin.
“They'll call us stars.” Nikaido speaks as suddenly as he had kissed him, and Senga isn't sure the words make much sense, but before he knows it himself, he's asking.
“Are we?” A glance to the side and he finds Nikaido mirroring him, eyes still burning, only he seems less desperate now.
“Do you know what you are?” he counters, doesn't answer the question.
“No.”
Again, Nikaido turns his eyes back on the road, speeds up further when the sound of distant sirens reach them. “We'll never know.”
The panic rises anew in Senga's chest, but he just leans his head against the seat behind him, closes his eyes and wills the falling sensation away as they run past trucks and cars at way over the speed limit. The night is cold against his skin, he would be freezing if he could spare a thought to it instead of the beat of his heart that fills his ears, blocks out the sirens. Then there's a touch to his knee, cool but comforting; he knows before he opens his eyes that Nikaido is trying to tell him to stay strong.
Senga doesn't know why, but as if acting on its own, his hand joins the other on his leg, slides underneath it, palm against his pants and Nikaido's on top of his. Like that their fingers intertwine, without a single glance to the side from Nikaido. They stay like that; the only time they move is when Nikaido changes gears, and when he does it's without letting go of Senga's hand, lets Senga hold the gear shift, then sets both of their hands back on his leg.
It's intimate in a strange way, one neither of them likely couldn't explain even if they wanted to. Just the skin on skin touch of each other, Nikaido's eyes on the dark road ahead of them, Senga's up at the sky, at the stars shining above them, and he feels so small down on the earth, running from the police, from their fate. Without exchanging a single word he feels that Nikaido knows it too; that they will be driving all night. That it will be their last hours together. That when the sun rises, it isn't tomorrow that they will meet. It's the end.
Alternate end
It's intimate in a strange way, one neither of them likely couldn't explain even if they wanted to. And it's so comforting, calms Senga's heart as they drive off the highway once the sirens can't be heard anymore. They will be back, but Nikaido seems to have something else in mind, something that turns out to be even scarier than being chased by the police. As they leave the main road into the woods he turns the headlights off, drives on instincts and Senga finds himself holding on tight to Nikaido's fingers, still tangled with his own. It's so dark, and he's still going relatively fast, until he stops, drives off the road onto what sounds like a field, sounds like high grass against the underside of the car; at least it's flat, and there seems to be no ditch. Then, as suddenly as he stops, he turns off the engine and moves, fast. Senga barely has time to think before Nikaido has climbed over to the passenger side, right into his lap as he crushes their lips together again. He feels even more desperate now, so urgent, holding onto Senga while he kisses him nearly feverishly. It's easy to fall into the same kind of movements, like the desperation transfers automatically once their tongues come together.
“Senga,” he whispers weakly when he pulls back to draw a breath, hands squeezing his shoulders, and everything that was strong and calm seems to be blown away entirely. Senga lets his hands settle on Nikaido's waist, pulls him a little closer and Nikaido kisses him again, hand finding the back of Senga's head. His fingers twist in the hair, pulls on it but it doesn't hurt, it doesn't hurt even though it should because there's so much else in the night air.
They have never been like this, Senga has never even thought of Nikaido in this way; he assumes Nikaido is the same. It's just that it doesn't matter. Nothing matters anymore, when Nikaido's lips are hot on his and his hips grinding down against Senga's crotch, when their bodies speak for themselves. He doesn't care when Nikaido starts working on his own pants, just keeps kissing him, hopes his fear comes through to him, just like Nikaido's desperation does to himself. Fumbling hands are at his own pants next, and Nikaido doesn't hesitate to slide his hand down them once they're open.
It just happens, like everything else also has, ever since they broke into the valve. Nikaido is quick with his hands and thrusts roughly with his hips, lips intense against Senga's, and just as intense when he moves them to his neck, sucks on his skin between groans. Maybe there will be marks, but Senga isn't bothered by it. The thought is gone way before Nikaido's hands push him over the edge into an orgasm, feels him bite into his neck when he reaches his own.
He's still dazed when Nikaido starts moving, tries to pretend he's upset when he wipes his sticky hand on Senga's shirt, but it's hard to, when it doesn't even matter. They don't say anything as they part, Nikaido gets back in his seat and turns the engine on, drives back onto the road with headlights on, turns them off as soon as they're back on track. Eventually they go back onto a lit up road, in another direction this time, and for a good while they're able to drive at a normal speed. Then the sound of sirens fill their ears again, and Nikaido speeds up, puts his burnt hand back on Senga's, squeezes it tight.
That's all there is, just the skin on skin touch of each other, Nikaido's eyes on the dark road ahead of them, Senga's up at the sky, at the stars shining above them, and he feels so small down on the earth, running from the police, from their fate. Without exchanging a single word he feels that Nikaido knows it too; that they will be driving all night. That it will be their last hours together. That when the sun rises, it isn't tomorrow that they will meet. It's the end.
Nikaido/Senga (Kis-My-Ft2)
(Agent) AU, 2000 (+650) words, PG-13 (R for alternate end). Weapons, death
It had been their first large scale mission, and it had started out perfectly.
Senga's mind is still all fire and explosions when they're speeding down the highway, hearts beating at double their normal pace. He jumps at the mechanical sound of the top of Nikaido's matte black cabriolet going down, swings his head around to stare at his partner, as if asking if he's crazy.
The wind plays in his hair, and Nikaido is wearing a strange smile on his face. So oddly calm, but then his eyes are sparkling with both excitement and determination, and Senga wishes he could be like him. He feels nothing of what he assumes Nikaido is feeling. Inside him is just a hole of hopelessness, of fear, of desperation to get out of there and hide until he's safe again.
“I feel like I'm falling,” he says, and it doesn't even make sense to himself. All he knows is the feeling of an inevitable end closing in on them, the feeling of being dragged deeper until he can't breathe.
“That's the realization,” Nikaido answers, “just accept it.”
And Senga knows exactly why Nikaido pulled the top down.
-
It had started out perfectly. They had gotten everything in time, the plans went just as they were supposed to. By far not their first mission; but their first big scale one, the first one that had taken more than just a couple of months to plan, to prepare for. They had memorized the interior of the building, the passwords for the doors, the faces of the staff, had it infiltrated for by a third agent for insider help. Senga had put together weapons; nothing to kill with, only to defend, to distract. Of the two of them, Nikaido was the only one to have had missions involving ending a person's life; Senga had wanted to avoid doing so as far as possible.
But at one point, it had all gone wrong. Nikaido had been in the main vault when Senga's wireless in-ear headphone had come to life with a beep.
“They're coming. Over.” Agent K hadn't been supposed to talk to them unless something happened. “They” couldn't be anyone other than the police.
“How far? Over.” Panic rose in his chest. “Nikaido, hurry the fuck up!” he had hissed as loudly as he dared.
“Entering through the back entrance as we speak. They have weapons, the commander is telling them to shoot. They know it's not just any organization. Get out of there, now.”
Nikaido had returned to his side the second time he called for him; the requested papers in hand, and face with a complete lack of emotion.
“Back entrance,” was all Senga had said, and Nikaido had taken the decision for them. There had only been two ways out, one the main entrance, the other the loading docks. Without a word they set out, not running but still stressing their steps; they would have to pass close to the main entrance to get to the loading docks. Their original way out had been the back entrance, but being blocked by the police there was nothing else to do but throw that plan away, replace it with the second plan.
The alarms never went off, but judging by the look of Nikaido's face, that didn't make it any better. Senga had only seen him like that once before; thinking hard, breathing deeply, walking with determined steps, and that had been last time they had had to change plans during a well-prepared mission. That time, they had made it out fine. But that time, the police hadn't been involved, and the mission had been much easier. And this time, getting caught would mean the end.
Thinking back at it, Senga knows they should have done it differently. That they should have gone in circles, rounded the vault on the second floor to come back at the back entrance, exit through it, because the police were already assuming they would go for the docks. They had caught up with them close by the main entrance, with an extra force of men outside it.
“Stay calm,” Nikaido has mumbled to him through the corner of his mouth, and with slow, shaky breaths Senga had repeated their routine, the one they had trained for in case they got caught.
First, checking ways out. Agent K contacted him again, told him there would be a car waiting by the loading docks; he was unable to answer, but tapped the miniature microphone attached to his collar to let him know he had heard it. Their ideal way out would therefore still be the docks; they would just have to get through the situation in the lobby.
Second, distracting. It begun with Nikaido stepping out in front of them, hands open and by his sides. Doing so means the police now knows his face, and very well, at that; he risked that for both of their lives, even though it meant he could never do this job again. Then Senga had stepped out too, but his hands hadn't been empty.
The first thing he had thrown had been a smoke bomb, and just as they had foreseen, the police began shooting towards them the very moment it exploded. Getting behind the wall for protection wouldn't have been hard; the police would be coming for them, though, and some smoke wouldn't stop them, sight unclear or not. He had thrown the second bomb only seconds later, on Nikaido's command, a nod just before he was also wrapped in the smoke. A hand had taken his once he had thrown the explosives, and together they had made it behind the wall, into the corridor.
That's the second thing that went wrong. Because what was supposed to be a smaller bomb, enough to shock but not to make any big harm, exploded with a ten double force. They could hear the glass doors shatter as they ran from there, a ringing in their ears and then the screams, and when Senga turned around, he had seen a man silently fall to the floor, face stained red with blood.
Somehow, they made it out, to the car parked outside for them, with keys in the lock ready for them to just go; Nikaido got into the driver's seat, driving out of there before Senga has even closed the passenger door. A glance in the rear-view mirror and he had seen policemen stopping on the docks, not jumping down them like they had done. Nikaido had pushed the accelerator flat to the floor and sped up, knowing there was little time to for them get back to their base and change cars.
“Fuck,” he had cursed when the car wouldn't go as fast as his own, but apart from that, he had remained calm.
“Get your things,” Nikaido had ordered him as he stopped the car a block from their base, and they had set off in a sprint, aware the police would be there any minute. “I'll get a gun.” No more words had been exchanged, but Senga knew he'd wait by Nikaido's car either way. It's what they had agreed on if the worst was to happen.
-
And now there he is, in the passenger seat of Nikaido's car, his bag dropped carelessly in the slim space behind the seats. It's calmer now, almost like time stopped, only the wind against his face and the sounds of cars passing by, loud without the top up. The scene of the explosion keeps playing on repeat in his head; he can't understand what went wrong, how he could possibly have mixed the explosives into something that strong without realizing, and he can't forget the man falling to the floor. Lifeless.
“I saw a body,” he speaks, again out of nowhere, and Nikaido glances at him through the corner of his eye, then turns back to the road as he drives past a huge truck.
“There was more than one.” It's a calm statement, because Nikaido isn't new to dead people, isn't new to killing. And had it been a mission to kill someone, then maybe Senga would have found it easier, but now it all happened because of a mistake he made. Now they can't turn back.
His thoughts are interrupted by Nikaido cursing, and the next thing he knows is the voice of a policeman in a megaphone, shouting at them to slow down and stop. Nikaido of course doesn't do as told; instead he speeds up and grabs the gun.
“Take the wheel,” he growls at Senga, and he barely has time to react before Nikaido has let go of it and turns around completely. There's a burn on his left hand, fiercely red and without doubt painful, but even so he manages to hold the gun incredibly still as he aims for the police car. The shot goes off and Senga jerks at the sound, but keeps the steering wheel under control. He doesn't turn around to check when Nikaido puts the gun back and takes over; the sound of cars crashing behind them is all he needs to know.
Senga is about to say something about how they have quite literally dug their own graves, but then Nikaido is locking eyes with him, and they seem to be burning. He's so high on adrenaline, the stare is so intense yet so deep, and then there's a hand in his hair, a tight grip pulling him in close. Senga doesn't protest when their lips crash together, mouth already open for Nikaido's tongue when he licks at him, meets it with his own. It's hot, rushed, and right about nothing is calm about Nikaido anymore, his desperation shines through like he's not even trying to hide it.
Even though it only lasts a couple of seconds it's as though Nikaido has to tear himself away from Senga to focus on the road instead. Senga doesn't ask about it, just catches his breath and lets the wind cool his skin.
“They'll call us stars.” Nikaido speaks as suddenly as he had kissed him, and Senga isn't sure the words make much sense, but before he knows it himself, he's asking.
“Are we?” A glance to the side and he finds Nikaido mirroring him, eyes still burning, only he seems less desperate now.
“Do you know what you are?” he counters, doesn't answer the question.
“No.”
Again, Nikaido turns his eyes back on the road, speeds up further when the sound of distant sirens reach them. “We'll never know.”
The panic rises anew in Senga's chest, but he just leans his head against the seat behind him, closes his eyes and wills the falling sensation away as they run past trucks and cars at way over the speed limit. The night is cold against his skin, he would be freezing if he could spare a thought to it instead of the beat of his heart that fills his ears, blocks out the sirens. Then there's a touch to his knee, cool but comforting; he knows before he opens his eyes that Nikaido is trying to tell him to stay strong.
Senga doesn't know why, but as if acting on its own, his hand joins the other on his leg, slides underneath it, palm against his pants and Nikaido's on top of his. Like that their fingers intertwine, without a single glance to the side from Nikaido. They stay like that; the only time they move is when Nikaido changes gears, and when he does it's without letting go of Senga's hand, lets Senga hold the gear shift, then sets both of their hands back on his leg.
It's intimate in a strange way, one neither of them likely couldn't explain even if they wanted to. Just the skin on skin touch of each other, Nikaido's eyes on the dark road ahead of them, Senga's up at the sky, at the stars shining above them, and he feels so small down on the earth, running from the police, from their fate. Without exchanging a single word he feels that Nikaido knows it too; that they will be driving all night. That it will be their last hours together. That when the sun rises, it isn't tomorrow that they will meet. It's the end.
-
Alternate end
It's intimate in a strange way, one neither of them likely couldn't explain even if they wanted to. And it's so comforting, calms Senga's heart as they drive off the highway once the sirens can't be heard anymore. They will be back, but Nikaido seems to have something else in mind, something that turns out to be even scarier than being chased by the police. As they leave the main road into the woods he turns the headlights off, drives on instincts and Senga finds himself holding on tight to Nikaido's fingers, still tangled with his own. It's so dark, and he's still going relatively fast, until he stops, drives off the road onto what sounds like a field, sounds like high grass against the underside of the car; at least it's flat, and there seems to be no ditch. Then, as suddenly as he stops, he turns off the engine and moves, fast. Senga barely has time to think before Nikaido has climbed over to the passenger side, right into his lap as he crushes their lips together again. He feels even more desperate now, so urgent, holding onto Senga while he kisses him nearly feverishly. It's easy to fall into the same kind of movements, like the desperation transfers automatically once their tongues come together.
“Senga,” he whispers weakly when he pulls back to draw a breath, hands squeezing his shoulders, and everything that was strong and calm seems to be blown away entirely. Senga lets his hands settle on Nikaido's waist, pulls him a little closer and Nikaido kisses him again, hand finding the back of Senga's head. His fingers twist in the hair, pulls on it but it doesn't hurt, it doesn't hurt even though it should because there's so much else in the night air.
They have never been like this, Senga has never even thought of Nikaido in this way; he assumes Nikaido is the same. It's just that it doesn't matter. Nothing matters anymore, when Nikaido's lips are hot on his and his hips grinding down against Senga's crotch, when their bodies speak for themselves. He doesn't care when Nikaido starts working on his own pants, just keeps kissing him, hopes his fear comes through to him, just like Nikaido's desperation does to himself. Fumbling hands are at his own pants next, and Nikaido doesn't hesitate to slide his hand down them once they're open.
It just happens, like everything else also has, ever since they broke into the valve. Nikaido is quick with his hands and thrusts roughly with his hips, lips intense against Senga's, and just as intense when he moves them to his neck, sucks on his skin between groans. Maybe there will be marks, but Senga isn't bothered by it. The thought is gone way before Nikaido's hands push him over the edge into an orgasm, feels him bite into his neck when he reaches his own.
He's still dazed when Nikaido starts moving, tries to pretend he's upset when he wipes his sticky hand on Senga's shirt, but it's hard to, when it doesn't even matter. They don't say anything as they part, Nikaido gets back in his seat and turns the engine on, drives back onto the road with headlights on, turns them off as soon as they're back on track. Eventually they go back onto a lit up road, in another direction this time, and for a good while they're able to drive at a normal speed. Then the sound of sirens fill their ears again, and Nikaido speeds up, puts his burnt hand back on Senga's, squeezes it tight.
That's all there is, just the skin on skin touch of each other, Nikaido's eyes on the dark road ahead of them, Senga's up at the sky, at the stars shining above them, and he feels so small down on the earth, running from the police, from their fate. Without exchanging a single word he feels that Nikaido knows it too; that they will be driving all night. That it will be their last hours together. That when the sun rises, it isn't tomorrow that they will meet. It's the end.
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no subject
on 2015-04-01 04:01 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2015-04-02 05:13 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2015-04-26 09:08 pm (UTC)still thanks for sharing!
no subject
on 2015-04-29 01:59 pm (UTC)