The Color of Death is Blue

The Hellhound

Keith ruffled his damp hair with a white towel, looking at his reflection stare back at him in the hotel bathroom. He wore loose black sweatpants and his chest was bare. A toothbrush hung from his lips as he checked his face in the mirror. He rinsed out his mouth and walked into the room, fluffing his hair with the towel around his neck.

Shiro sat at the desk by the door, typing away at his computer; and the scared boy sat on one of the beds hugging his knees and chewing on his nails. Keith stopped at the end of it to stare at him, hands pulling on each side of his towel. He kept his gaze on him as he spoke, "Hey Shiro?"

Shiro continued his typing, "What is it?"

He took a frustrated breath and scratched his head, "What are we gonna do with him?"

Shiro leaned over to look at the boy, keeping his hands on the keyboard. After a moment, he returned to his work, "I don't know."

Keith shot him an annoyed glance. He was used to killing people, not saving them. His stare returned to the bed and he strode to the side and took a seat. He placed a hand on the blanket and leaned towards him, "Do you wanna tell me your name now?"

The boy raised his eyes to Keith, meeting his gaze. Keith was suddenly unsettled with his presence. His piercing eyes were a foggy dark blue, and they seemed to look through his dark terracotta hair right into Keith's soul. He was thin and his swarthy skin was smooth and held a slight glow. The green jacket around his shoulders was splattered with dried blood, matching his jeans. He kept his lips slightly parted as he stared.

Keith averted his gaze and brought a hand to the back of his neck, "Uh, your name?"

He bit his lip slightly, dropping his intense eyes, "Lance."

Keith was taken aback by his voice. It was sweet and smooth, and it seemed to cling to his teeth. "Lance," he repeated with a nod. "Alright," he paused for a moment. Keith wasn't expecting an answer. "Do you wanna tell me who killed those men back there?"

Lance lowered his solemn eyes without an answer.

Keith inspected him with furrowed brows, "Wait," he collected his thoughts, "was that you?"

Lance shifted his weight and nibbled on his thumb.

Keith waited in anticipation, unsure if he wanted an answer or not.

After a few moments, Lance gave a faint nod.

Keith jumped up in defense and muttered to himself, "How the fuck..."

"Keith?" Shiro got his attention, "Whats wrong?"

Keith opened his mouth to say something to Lance, but couldn't find the words. He gave up and strode over to Shiro, watching the bed over his shoulder. "Um," Keith stopped in front of him and crossed his arms, "he was the one who killed everyone back there."

Shiro's face scrunched up in confusion and stared at the frightened boy. He returned his gaze to Keith, "Him?"

Keith shrugged his shoulders, then turned around to face Lance, "Hey!"

Lance jumped at the shout and looked to the two men.

"How did you kill them?" Keith motioned to him with a hand, "I mean, you don't look like any killer I've seen."

Lance pulled his hands up to his head and tucked it between his knees.

Keith and Shiro shared a confused look and Keith walked over to the shaken boy. He placed a hand on his shoulder, "Hey, what are you-"

Keith was cut off when Lance jerked back and slapped his hand away, "Please don't touch me!"

Keith held up his stunned hand as he processed what happened. "Um, Lance? What the fuck?"

Lance pulled a hand to his chest and clutched his jacket. Turning away, he reluctantly explained, "You can't touch my face! That's- that's how they-" his voice cut off as he clamped his teeth over his bottom lip.

Keith's chest sunk in realization, "No fucking way."

"What?" Shiro pleaded for answers.

Keith took a step back and clutched his hands into fists, "You're the fucking Hellhound?"

Lance winced at the name and covered his face with his arms.

"What the fuck is the Hellhound?" Shiro questioned.

Keith gathered his thoughts as he stared at Lance in disbelief. "It's the-uh," he shook his head to clear it and turned to face Shiro, "You know all those mysterious deaths that all of the hit men are talking about?"

Shiro crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow, "Yeah..."

"Well, they gave him the nickname 'the Hellhound.'" Keith talked with his hands as he explained, "We all thought it was some up-and-coming assassin that was super highly trained. No one that saw him ever lived to say, so we were never sure."

Shiro took a deep breath to wrap his mind around the concept.

Keith pointed to Lance, "That's him. It makes sense now. I mean, we found him in a mansion full of a bunch of dead rich men!" He crossed his arms and lowered his gaze in frustrated realization. "So that means..."

"Everyone that knows is trying to kill him." Shiro finished, running a hand over his face.

Keith reached across the bed and yanked Lance's jacket towards him, "How the fuck did you kill them?!"

Lance pulled his body back as much as he could and turned his face away, "It's my fucking face, alright?!" He shoved Keith off with a hard push.

Keith threw his hands up, "What the hell are you talking about?!"

Lance clutched his jacket with a hand and met his gaze. His eyes had teared up and his voice broke, "I don't know why! I've been like this since I was a kid. You can't touch my face or you'll die in some way! So please, just stay back!"

Keith went to jump forward, but Shiro's arm stopped him, "That's enough!" He turned to Lance, "Are you telling the truth?"

Lance squeezed his eyes shut and cried out, "Yes! There's a woman that takes care of me, please let me call her!"

Keith leaned into Shiro's arm, "Why the fuck would we let you call someone?!"

"Knock it off!" Shiro reached back to pull out a phone and looked to Lance, "What's the number?"