There was always a wonder in the back of his mind, whatever was left of it, on if he were still human. Most of his body had been forcibly replaced, after all, and he could not truly remember the times when he were whole. They all felt like a dream, and he was forever trapped in some terrible nightmare.
The missions he took led him to a life like this, he would guess, and he was not certain if it was one worth living. Yet, he kept going forward, kept taking the steps to continue this existence, because he simply would not perish so easily. There was some part of himself that willed his life to keep on lingering, and he did not know the reason for it. Would ignore it, until he was faced with the reality that perhaps he did wish to go on. That this was his life, now...
Now, in a situation that he did not wish to be in, where he faced off against more enemies than he could count. No matter how many bodies he downed, they kept coming. It was as though someone put a massive bounty for his head, but he kept on fighting. Near breathless, blade still in hand, he tried to calm his heart, which was thankfully still his. The need to focus and be in the present was key to his survival.
Heavy boots clomped with each step the male took, chains rattling against his hip softly as his red eyes took in his surroundings. A new town, new people, and new memories to make. A gloved hand raised, fingers shifting through his brunettes locks as he let out a soft sigh. No sign of a bar anywhere, but he could pick up the rich aroma of coffee coming from somewhere nearby. That will have to do for now, at least it’s something to get his blood flowing until he managed to find the closest place that sells alcohol.
He let his nose lead the way and it didn’t take long before he found the cafe in which the scent was coming from. But, as his eyes landed upon the establishment, something much more interesting caught the vampires attention. Vibrant red hair, the kind that one couldn’t help staring at. And what a sight to see, this woman was definitely a beauty and what kind of gentleman would Raiden be if he didn’t go and introduce himself?
He approached her, a gloved hand reaching for the door to the cafe to hold it open for her. “Ladies first,” he spoke, a devilish smirk crossing his lips and a playful glint shining in those brilliant red eyes. Oh yes, this town was definitely going to be fun.
There was never a time in which he had any real peace. From the days after the Big Shell incident, and onward, he would have nightmares every single night. Even after being forced into this cursed body, they remained, and only increased in horrific detail. Sometimes the fatigue of restless nights would get to him, and make his prowess in a battle less than satisfactory. He would slip up, make a mistake, and immediately regret having been so exhausted. This was one of those moments...
With breaths already so ragged, he had his blade anchored into the ground, using it to lean on with some of his weight. He had been fighting for awhile, now, and this body did not tire out so easily. It was all his doing... The mind playing such a huge part on the rest of himself, and he hated that his mistakes were causing him such pain. It blossomed on various places, splotches of white that dribbled to the ground below. He stared ahead to try to pay attention to his surroundings, feeling that exhaustion taking it’s toll at a steady pace.
There was a pale light shining brightly on him, and pain erupted throughout his entire body. He could not see really past that blinding light, and did not know how he ended up on a table so cold, nor could he remember much of what led to this. The only thought going through his head was of trying to fight off this sensation that spread over his form.
When he went to lift his arm, there was resistance, but he pushed past it - an effort that took almost all of his strength just to do. The hand he saw was no longer flesh... When had it been, last? His mind began to run rampant with shock, fear, and a dizziness came over him. Was he in a nightmare? Again, always the same one? The scream that came out of his lips was garbled, a distorted wail that echoed in the room, and so very strange. It didn’t seem entirely like his. What was his?!
His mind was trying to catch up, and he attempted to sit upright, but to no avail as something kept him mostly in place. “Stop-- st--STOP!” He tried to call out to whoever was around him, desperation ebbing into his pitiful cries. His eyes caught sight of something large looming nearby, and a buzzing noise was down at his chest, a place he wasn’t allowed to see. This wasn’t right. He wasn’t right. Everything hurt, and his mind was fighting with itself to keep him both conscious, lucid, and then not.
Fading in and out for what seemed like hours, on repeat, Raiden could only lay there and feel hot tears streaming down the sides of his face, barely able to notice them as the pain increased tremendously. “Ple--please--” He begged, as that was all he could do, and the hand that had been freed before was now scraping along the table’s side - in an attempt to scratch, to escape. It was the only part of him that hadn’t been kept down, for some untold reason, as if to taunt the fact he couldn’t ever be free.
There was only so much could do against an overwhelming amount of forces, and these enemies weren’t exactly human. At this point in time, A.I. have fully taken control over most situations, whether it be by monitoring live troops, or autonomous-controlled units.
Currently, he was surrounded by these Gekko, IRVING, or the more preferable nickname ‘Lizards’. They were usually dispatched along soldiers, as per protocol. Though, he found himself dealing with at least thirty of them, at once, for some strange reason. Try as he might, his own skills could not deal enough damage to every single one, and he found that his own joints would soon wane.
The strength he had for most physical activities was dwindling fast, as this cyborg body was made with the intention of being an assassin, not some full-on combative warrior, or likened to a tank. No, it was too much for him, and he could handle a ton of things thrown his way. Yet, these Gekko had snagged him in a trap, using their sensory-shock wires to bind him in place, while they awaited orders from afar on his status; to keep alive, or bring in deceased.
“Shit...” Raiden cursed, and tried to yank himself free, but his energy was severely low. He would need a few to regain it, and was just hoping they weren’t going to end him within the next second or two.
“This is not looking too good...” He brought a hand up to his earpiece, hoping to be inconspicuous about it. “So... I hope there’s a chance that I can possibly be extracted from here?” All he received was static, and an awful ringing as his line had been cut off. “Ah!” Raiden winced, and yanked the earpiece out, looking it over a few times. “... shit...”
Raiden was well aware that he stuck out like a sore thumb, even with the trench coat he wore. No amount of clothing was fully able to conceal the bulky metal body he’d escaped the Patriots with, not to mention the metal jaw and head cradle that neither coats nor hats nor anything else fully covered. The sad thing was... he didn’t care. Let them find him. Let them come. What was the worst possible thing that could happen? They start a fight? Fine. They kill him? Also fine. Raiden truly felt that he had nothing left to lose but his life.
How many countries had he been to? How many borders had he crossed? How many well-meaning local law enforcement agents had he tried hard to avoid, and how many other shady and corrupt ones had he tried not quite so hard to avoid? In amongst all of this clandestine flight and living off the grid, he’d managed to rescue a deceased friend’s child from the Patriots - a promise kept - and kill a number of them, hunting them down with lethal precision. It was perhaps the only thing keeping him alive right now, with regard to having a soul anyway, the prospect of ridding the world of these sick, inhumane terrorists so that no one else would ever have to go through what Raiden had.
Well, that and katsujinken, a martial arts code influenced by both Buddhism and the samurai code of conduct that encompassed the concept of using one’s sword not to kill one’s opponent, but to stop them and/or to protect and preserve life. It had more to do with the reason behind why he raised his sword rather than the actual sword work itself. Even though he killed with it, that was not the reason he wielded it. It was to stop the cruelty and suffering his enemies imposed on others, and to protect innocent lives before they became more victims. It was something he believed in and wanted to adhere to, and if he was anything less than the monster he was afraid he was, then he would be able to do so.
Since childhood, since the days he was called the White Devil and Jack the Ripper, Raiden had been afraid that being a killer was all he was. He wanted so badly to believe that wasn’t true, that he was something different - something more - than his enemies and all the people he’d killed in his life. Living by a moral code helped him stay sane, and helped stave off the shame of feeling soulless and the mental breakdown he felt was always lingering just around the next corner for him...
But losing the only child he would ever father, losing almost his entire body, and then losing Rose too had taken its toll on him mentally. Raiden felt like he was clinging to morality instead of living by it, and the longer he was alone - the longer he felt compelled to remain alone, lest he get anyone he got close to killed - the quieter, colder, and more self-sacrificial he became. What did it matter, really, whether he lived or died? There was no one left to care. Maybe that’s why he went out walking in the dead of night, almost hoping to draw out someone on his trail, someone who wanted him dead. This city he was staying in currently seemed to be fairly quiet as far as agents, whether lawful or illegal, but that didn’t mean first glances told him everything.
The first time he’d noticed the woman out walking at the same dead of night as he was, he thought perhaps she might be surveilling him. However, it quickly became apparent by her evasive and decidedly annoyed glances over her shoulder that she thought he was tailing her. Raiden didn’t know why that would be, or what she might have done to warrant being followed, but he really didn’t want to get into a fight with someone over a misunderstanding. So he did something he never did anymore nowadays... he spoke up.
“I’m not after you. I don’t even know who you are,” he said, his voice raspy from both lack of use and from the less-than-perfect vocal connections his current prototype body afforded him. His breath, at least what passed for breath through his synthetic body, was visible in the cold night air. “I thought you might be after me,” he said, the faintest hint of humor coming through in his voice. Or was it only exhausted cynicism? “I don’t mean you any harm.” That left only one question. “Is there a reason you’d be expecting someone like me to be coming after you?”
