Corpse Bride || Haitani Brothers/OC

05 - the arsonist

clouds covered the moon and the night was dark. it was eerie. too quiet. there were no cars that passed—perhaps because everyone else with good sense were in their rooms—houses lined up on the sides of the street and they looked desolate and bleak. the tall building that protruded from over their roofs stood proudly and outshone every other structure.

Red Flower headquarters.

—there used to be three, but now, there were only two left. they spent most money to acquire and lavish the building, and it homed most of their executives. apart from it, the first three floors were dedicated for pleasure and entertainment.

around the building, and past the ordinary houses, people were bustling in and out contrary to the stillness and quiet of everywhere else. women lured men in, men lured women outside, and just about every feathered wealthy bird was there—to drink, to gamble, to feed their lust.

the sign 'Red Flower' glowed at its entrance. there was a tall man who stood at front and took in the sight, almost snorting in disappointment. this club rivaled their own, but it wasn't as famous nor did it make greater profit. he can't help but click his tongue at Red Flower's most beloved and protected establishment. at least Bonten wasn't so self-absorbed that they'd name their club after their organization.

a woman who caught sight of him smiled. he smiles back, nodding politely. tonight, he plays the average rich lowlife man, and this woman will just so happen to be a prop for his disguise. he offers her his utmost attention as she walks over. women love attention.

"what are you doing out? don't you want to come in?" she asks.

he pretends to look her over, pretending to stare too long at her bust that she obviously loved to flaunt. "I wasn't so sure, but now I want to come in."

her lips break into a grin and he silently mocks her naivety. but he reflects the smile, and she shuffled closer. she stood too close, her front touching his arm. feeling as if he was violating some oath, like he was betraying himself and someone else much more important, he recoils from her.

"I can't do this sober, really, what's got in to me," he laughs to himself as he walks in, leaving a confused woman in his wake.

as he walked in to the bar, loud music filled his ears. he didn't need some woman for a disguise—at least he could manage without them. he subtly scans the place as he moves towards the bar, his face easily gaining attention despite the dimness.

four guards by the stairs, two at the elevators, and two at the entrance.

tonight, he wasn't wearing a three-piece suit. he traded his beloved garments for a black turtleneck and black slacks. he had tattoos to cover. and he wore a black coat over himself to cover his guns and a knife. he can't go anywhere with just a single weapon—and it wasn't even for safety. they were just fun to carry around for a more varied murder.

he sits on the counter stool, ordering a margarita he rarely drank. it was a dedication; Hikari loved margaritas. and tonight was for her.

"let me guess, you're trying to be the grim ripper?"

so many flies.

but this was a useful fly at least. he downs the margarita before wearing his signature, meaningless yet charming smile. she was a waitress, and from what she wore, he could tell she was one of Red Flower's many play toys.

"I'm attending a funeral."

she chuckles.

"not many men can pull off black the way you do."

"there's not many men like me."

"how can you be so sure?"

"you'll just have to trust me." he leans in closer to her before he whispers, "if you don't believe me, I can show you."