Misty: salut - here is our first fictionpress collaboration. say "hi", Hoshiko.

Hoshiko: Ello.

Misty:...so, yeah.this is our first (and probably only) chapter that we wrote entirely together. hey, want to give them the basic info of this series?

Hoshiko: This is SHOUNEN (not shounen ai...maybe) so there will be blood, angst, and lots of action. Please don't get mad if you think that sucks.

Misty: très bien! have a cookie!

Hoshiko:...miam.

Misty: without any further ado, enjoy our hard work and (hopefully) leave a review!

Hoshiko: Oh, and be sure to check out my deviantart account too, cuz I'll have splash pages (also known as 'chapter covers') to look at that I made myself. That is all. Live long and prosper.

Finster Spiegel, Dark Mirror

-MistyRose14 & Twilight Hoshiko-chan-

Prologue

This dark existence

Tracing my every move

He is behind me…

A serene allusion of rest hovered over the massive castle, bathed in the faded gold glow of dusk. It loomed ahead, through the brown, weathered iron gates, the reflected light from the castle causing the bald head of the man who stood before it to shine. This man, whose current countenance was amiable and slightly distracted, waited eagerly for a burly security guard to notice him. There were several of the guards wandering the densely wooded area with dogs or fancy guns and the like, but they all seemed oblivious to their visitor. With a twinge of impatience, his hands snaked into the inside jacket pocket of his suit, groping for his cell phone.

“Stop!” As the heavily accented order reached his ears, the man swiftly retracted his hand from his coat, the cell phone gripped tightly in his hand.

Three husky guards lumbered over to the gates through the lawn with two German Sheppards at their heels. The dogs sniffed the air hesitantly, taking in a plethora of scents at a remarkable rate for identification. Once they reached the gates, the closest of the German Sheppards barked with glee - they knew their visitor.

“Oh, hello, Bruns,” greeted the man with relief as he stroked the dog’s ear through the bars. “Did you miss me?”

A guard cleared his throat, tugging slightly on the leash. “Identification?”

The bald man smiled and reached inside his pocket again, this time drawing out his wallet. “It’s good to be strict,” he complemented tentatively in German, a language which he failed quite spectacularly at speaking. He slipped a card out of the wallet and handed it to the guard.

Still skeptic, the guard examined the flimsy piece of plastic for a moment before taking a radar gun and running a blue beam of light over the card. A series of disconnected beeps ensued before the guard gave the card back with a monotonous ‘thank you’. He gestured to one of his fellow employees. “Open the gates!”

With a quick nod, the man passed the guards, tucking his belongings into his suit again. “It only took long enough…” he muttered, shaking his head. Pebbles crunched beneath his feet as he passed along the lengthy, curving pathway to the entrance of the castle. Sunset continued to fall, elongating the shadow behind him with each step.

At last, he reached the immense wooden door surrounded by sand-colored bricks. The door opened with its characteristic groan, and he strode into the entry chamber, a long hallway. The stone walls were adorned with renaissance-styled torches illuminating the vacant corridor before him. Towards the end of the hall, a tight spiral of stairs stood, the torches barely smoldering.

“I suppose that I’m later than expected,” the man commented to himself in amusement, advancing toward the winding staircase.

He had always hated the stairs, being that once a person managed to heave him or herself through the first hundred steps there were always approximately seven hundred and eighty-three more to climb before reaching the desired destination. That is a door -light oak riddled with faint carvings and a brass knob- beyond which lays a room that only five people out of every four or seven generations will ever see.

For now, this old man with a shiny bald head is one of those five people. He limped up the eight hundredth and eighty-third step and turned left to pace down the corridor, at the end of which would certainly be the lovely oak door.

However, the man found that he was not alone. An ancient, pitifully skinny woman leaned heavily on her little cane underneath one of the flickering torches. Her face looked pinched and cracked like tree bark; a stark contrast to the sleek white bun that rested upon her small head.

“You finally made it.” She rebuked him in flawless English, blue eyes bright, fierce, and gleaming predatorily in the dim light.

Sheepishly, the old man bowed in apology. “Sorry darling, my car broke down.”

Tossing her head with a furious snort, the woman sneered at him. “Why even trust technology? It will all break and be replaced the next day by something more complicated.”

“I would use your way, but my carriage wasn’t ready.” He replied with an air of charming humor.

His companion frowned and walked away towards the door, snapping her frail fingers. “You are in no position to be a joker. We’ve been waiting for you forever.”

“I highly doubt that - forever can be anything from four seconds to four decades.” The man mused as he followed her.

“Four decades then,” she barked, twisting the brass knob with a vice-like grip. “God knows how nice it’d be if we actually had that much time to sit around and twiddle our fingers.”

“Ah, but you wouldn’t be satisfied with that, would you, Grusha?” A new voice had entered their conversation, masculine, lilting, and youthful compared to the bald man and the thin lady.

The woman fixed her vivid azure eyes upon the speaker, a lanky, grey haired man who appeared to be in his late forties. “Impudence. That is what you are.”

“I never asked your opinion; I’m merely stating that doing nothing wouldn’t suit you.” Shrugging, the younger man tugged on his tie to loosen it. “So, Jianyu, you’re having a harder time making it to our appointments. Considering retirement?”

“Hardly.” The response was cold, immediate. “Since I have made you wait, let’s not stall any longer,” he offered, making his way to the door behind the woman. “Besides, I thought this meeting was urgent.”

Her lips pulled into a firm scowl in response, yet said nothing. She waited as the men opened the door, and then stepped in before them.

Once inside the oak door, the three silently found their seats at a deep mahogany oval table that practically took up all of the dark room. There were five seats total, three occupied by men, two by women. On the backs of the chairs were five names, all in roman lettering: AMSEL, SAWAMURA, RYDER, VOLKOV, LIN. In the middle of the table, a thick candle was alight, lending weak light across the chamber. Droplets of wax dripped onto the circular, silver tray beneath it, collecting into a glistening pool of cream-colored oil.

As the last person relaxed in their seat, the oldest man, who was seated at the chair with AMSEL engraved across the back, stood up to acknowledge the assembly.

“Hello, my allies,” he began in a professional tone, his words carefully paced for easy comprehension. “Shall we address the main issue of matter?”

“Yes,” came the unison reply.

The leader signaled to the woman beside him, whose visage contained only minor lines of age, and eyes held a dreamy depth. She folded her hands neatly together, laying them on the table before addressing the group.

“I know that there have always been…fluctuations in the populations,” her voice flowed softly, as if English were her native language. “Yet, the Japan headquarters is simply overwhelmed this time. First, our detector was abruptly eliminated, and we have yet to fill their position. Now our hunters are exhausted, unable to keep up with the numbers that are rapidly multiplying-”

“Momoe,” interrupted the youngest of the three men, his scrunched up tie sticking out of his front suit jacket pocket. “The populations everywhere are increasing, even in the British Isles. I wouldn’t exactly call it a reason to ask for reinforcements.”

The Japanese representative remained silent for a moment, taking in his words with the same tranquil expression that was upon her face earlier. Finally, she took a deep breath to continue. “Ryder, there is always more. I have a reason to believe that they are becoming more intelligent, more driven. They know we are easy prey, with our densely populated areas and tendency to help those we care about. This is not just my problem - it may become yours soon.”

“Sawamura has a point,” the leader spoke up, gazing across the table at each of the members. “I have noticed similar things, but much more subdued. No other place is better suited for their experiment.”

With a flinch-inducing tap on the table, the woman at the seat of VOLKOV appeared plainly displeased. Her cane rested on her lap, with the other hand keeping a loose grip on it. “This is ridiculous. If their tactics have remained the same for centuries, what would cause them to differ now? Perhaps it is just the quality of your hunters.”

“Come on, Grusha, don’t hit below the belt-”

She turned on the Irishman beside her. “And you, Ryder, treat this business with the same professionalism I hope you applied to your hunting!”

“I’m not professional?” His face took on a dark red hue. “Have you ever heard of the phrase ‘practice what you preach’? It certainly seems like you haven’t!”

At the brewing argument before him, the leader held up his hand for order. He glanced over at the bald Chinese man, observing wordlessly at the other end of the table. “Lin, what do you think of this matter?”

Toying with his cufflink absentmindedly, the man in question took a moment to mull over the facts. “I…agree with Volkov. Although I hate to doubt the abilities of our Japanese brethren, the issue could only be what it has shown to be in the past.”

“And what is that?” Sawamura inquired softly, drawing everyone’s attention to her suddenly guarded countenance.

Lin’s almond eyes rose cautiously to meet the graceful lady. “The carelessness of the hunters.”

Hostility seemed to grow in the silence after his words, but the leader did not let it breed for long. “We shall put it to a vote then…The matter is to replace a detector and send an extra force to Japan. Are we for or against?”

“Against.” Jianyu Lin quipped monotonously, checking his Rolex for the time.

“For.” Conall Ryder offered boldly, staring away from Volkov.

“Against.” Grusha Volkov echoed Lin, a vicious chill now in her cobalt irises.

“For.” Momoe Sawamura and Johann Amsel spoke clearly at once.

As the realization of the outcome came to her, Grusha Volkov’s expression twisted into one of pure repulsion. She excused herself from the table immediately, muttering Russian words under her breath.

“Thank you, Amsel,” Sawamura bowed in her seat, then shook his hand. “We are grateful to you.”

“And I to you, and your daughter.” He smiled to himself, pulling out a small wallet-sized photo with his son, daughter-in-law, and two young boys. “Ah, my favorite grandsons - Tetsuani and Franz. I wonder what they are doing now…”

Misty: well? what are you waiting for? the next chapter is Hoshiko's, so get to it!