Present Time.
When you have a name like Salmon people don't expect you to be anything aside from ordinary. Having a name like Salmon meant that not much is expected of you because well, most people would think you're named after a fish - even though Salmon is short for Salmonius - and no one has ever conquered Europe or waged war against Capitalism with a name like Salmon. Right?
Salmon turned to You.
'Right.'
Yet here he was ominously standing by the entrance of a dark alleyway clad in a black jacket with a grey t-shirt peeking under its sharp collar and dark jeans tucked into heavy combat boots about to do something that was definitely not ordinary. He inspected his heavily lined boots, pressing down to feel the hard padding. He didn't like wearing heavy boots but they came in handy when he needed to kick down doors.
The ticking of Salmon's wristwatch is the only sensible sound his ears could pick up over the trickling sound of rain pelting against the translucent plastic umbrella over his head.
Salmon stood in the shadows, cigarette between his lips. His tousled silver hair drooped over his clear cerulean orbs. The warmth of the cigarettes burning ember licked his fingertips and Salmon relished the feeling.
'You don't even smoke.'
Of course he didn't, he just needed to sell the image of a forbidding presence surrounded by wafts of smoke.
Taking a drag, Salmon glanced down at his stop watch. 10 minutes and 4 seconds left.
It was exactly 10 minutes and 4 seconds to midnight and the street Salmon was watching was fairly busy for late night walkers on a rainy night; the usual party animals, occasional late night shift employees getting home from a tedious day at work and a few miscreants here and there. The passers-byers were all bathed in the glow of the neon lights plastered against the concrete walls all over the streets, signs to gain attention from passing pedestrians to enter. None of them saw him standing in the shadows, save for the light contrast of his silver hair.
Salmon watched the smoke waft up, disappearing into the endless dark night. He sighed out of boredom, tossed the cigarette onto the wet concrete and crushed it under his boot.
Now he was left alone with his wandering thoughts, the slow raindrops, the aching cold and of course the ticking of his stopwatch.
Or the lack of it.
It stopped ticking. Times up.
'Finally.'
Salmon straightened to his full height. He was a seventeen year old with a brooding 6'1 height, so even if Salmon didn't straighten to his full height, he'd still tower over her 5'2 figure.
Like clockwork, because it was, she appeared in front of him.
Aikio Yamori, a petite young 21 year old woman. She was now on her way home with a plastic bag of groceries in one hand and the other stuffed into the pocket of her jacket.
She appeared just as he first saw her, only her red hair was more vibrant, even in the hollow dimness of the night. Nevertheless, it was her.
Her hair was pulled back into a messy bun, scarlett strands falling over her cold blue eyes. The expression on her face was aloof. The eye bags under her eyes heavy, made more obvious by the exhaustion on her face. She was looking down, hands stuffed in the pocket of her trench coat. Her hair was wet, strands sticking to her pale cheeks. As soon as she stepped into the alleyway entrance and her eyes adjusted to the dimness of the alley lights, she noticed his shoes.
Freezing in her step, she dreadfully dragged her gaze up.
Her eyes met his enigmatic orbs and she quickly staggered back, recognition and fear flashing in her face in an instant.
The plastic bag in her hand slipped out, splashing onto the wet concrete as the contents spilled out; a retro sunglass, a bunch of wrapped bananas, a bag of chips and four Kit Kat bars.
Salmon shifted his gaze towards the fallen bag and back to her.
"You gonna get that or-"
She broke off into a sprint down the bustling sidewalk.
'Why do they always run?'
He tucked his hand into his pocket and watched her scurry off like an escapee from a high facility prison camp. She bumped into a girl with a large school bag, pushed through a couple nuzzling against each other by the sidewalk and rushed through a group of kids street dancing near the curb.
"Watch it!" A lady shrieked, pulling her child Aikio almost stepped over into her arms.
"Where you running to babygirl." A boy teased, his friends sniggered behind him as they leered at her from under a street lamppost, shadows dancing across their hooded faces.
She could barely hear all the shouts, taunts or swearing as she blindly surged though the crowded street; crippling fear numbing her senses.
The light drizzle picked up to a heavy rain, the droplets pelting against Salmon's umbrella. He had picked up her grocery, slipping all the contents back inside the white plastic.
He watched her look back in a panicked frenzy but she was too far ahead to see him disappear into the dark alley.
Aikio slammed into the door of her apartment. It smacked against the wall with a loud thud and she stood in the open doorway, shaking and completely drenched in rain. The torrent behind her was relentless, heavy raindrops smashing onto everything as if at war with the earth as the wind howled like dying phantoms.
"Christ, Aikio what happened?" A tall burly man with a gentle face quickly rushed over, pulling her quivering soaked body into his arms as he shut the door behind her, muffling the violent storm outside.
Even though the heater was on, Aikio was shivering profusely, muttering frantically under her breath. He carried her to the couch, one hand holding her up while the other swiped away all the newspaper articles littering the couch.
He placed her gently onto the couch, worry flashing in his gentle brown eyes. He'd ask questions later, right now he needed to get her dry.
He got up, "I'll go grab your towel and-"
"Callum-" she grabbed his arm.
He turned, although her fingers felt like ice it was her wide haunted eyes that made him shiver.
"I saw him."
Callum sucked in air. "Are you sure?"
"I felt it. It's him."
He leaned down, held her face firmly in his large hands and stared into her vibrant eyes.
"I'm gonna ask you one last time, are you sure it was him?"
She nodded.
He paled, all the life leaving his eyes.
"I felt so cold when I saw him, it was like staring at the end and I - wait where are you going?" She sat up, worry heavy in her voice.
Aikio watched Callum rush into the only room in the apartment, emerging a few seconds later with two suitcases in each hand; a bigger red one and a smaller grey one.
Callum didn't answer her question. He placed the grey suitcase onto the table in front of the couch. He pulled a dark corded necklace with a key attached to it under his shirt, all the while struggling to keep his rampant thoughts at bay.
'There's no time.'
'Should've known this day would come.'
'Did you really think Sisyphus wouldn't find out?'
'This is the en-'
He shut his thoughts down and fumbled with the lock on the grey suitcase with a small key, cursing under his breath when it wouldn't go in because of his shaking hands.
"Callum."
He took a deep breathe and steadied his hand; the key finally went in and it clicked before the lock unlatched itself. Sweat trickled down his temple.
"Callum talk to me," Aikio pleaded.
He opened it. Inside there were two compartments; one held a revolver with seven golden bullets and the other held a plain brown notebook with XII printed at the center, matching the XII tattoo on his right wrist.
Glaring at the notebook, he ignored it and took the revolver into his sweaty hands. He thought he had time, as ironic as it sounded. He'd spent his entire life living for something else, fighting a cause he was born to fight; but not anymore. He had someone now, someone he loved - who loved him back - and he'd be damned if he didn't go down without a fight.
The sound of thunder rumbled through the torrent with a roaring
BOOM!
Aikio screamed and jumped at the sound, looking around frantically as if she saw a flash of silver somewhere in the apartment.
The suspense was killing her.
"CALLUM!"
His eyes darted up, as if finally hit out of a daze and noticed her on the couch. Aikio's blue eyes were wide, brilliant red hair sticking to her wet face. There was confusion and fear across her stunning features.
"What does this mean?" She asked with dread heavy in her voice.
There was a stretch of silence, save for the leaky faucet in the cubicle kitchen and raindrops hammering onto the rooftop.
He swallowed, "It means we're fucked."
Aikio shook her head vigorously, getting up. "N-No we could run and-"
"Hide? From the White Death?"
She blinked rapidly to keep her prickling tears at bay.
"We have to do something."
"We can't there's nothing we can possibly do. There is literally no time or place we can go to hide from him. It's 13. No one can hide from him." Callum said hopelessly, jaws clenched, "He's practically the Death Reaper; the last person you wanna see, why do you think he's known as the White Death?."
Lightning flashed outside, detonating the room in a white glow.
"It's not fair." She rasped.
Callum sighed, placed the revolver and bullets aside and reached for Aikio.
She climbed into his lap and wept in his arms, her drenched body pressed against his. He felt warm. She never wanted this feeling to end. She felt safe here with him, even if this moment was fleeting.
When she was calm enough to breath properly he pulled away and cupped her soft tearstained cheeks in his callous hands.
She frowned, her glittery eyes pensive. "Why can't they just leave us alone? It's not like we're hurting anyone."
He sighed through his nose and held her close. "Because you're a Remnant and I'm a Time Traveller."
"It sounds cute and perfectly healthy in theory." She muttered.
He laughed and she felt light-headed. Aikio gazed at him. His brown eyes were gentle and kind, just as it had been the first time they'd met. He was different.
"I don't regret anything." He kissed her forehead.
Aikio's eyes slipped shut and she smiled softly.
The moment ended with the door shattering off its hinge with an earsplitting crack. They both whirled around and found a leg pulling back from the hole in the door.
A tall lean figure stood in the broken doorway, clad in dark clothes with white hair and electric eyes.
"You left this."
He held up a plastic bag and smiled cutely as if this was a warm housecall.
They gaped at the person that just kicked a hole in their door.
Lightning slashed across the sky behind him, illuminating his ominous figure and highlighting the XIII tattoo on his wrist.