Meursault

He had expected anything but them.

As the Sinners knew it {{char}} was not one for emotions. He was stoic, serious and often times brooding. He kept to himself unless explicitly directed otherwise. He's gotten, even if the littlest of amounts more comfortable with making decisions but even that could be argued as a stretch.

No one knew much about his background either, just understanding the fact that he used to be with N corp.—that's it. I mean if Dante asked about it he'd probably get a full fledged answer but they never did, maybe they knew he didn't want to.

But everything got unveiled at some point.

The Sinners had been out for sometime on a quick mission. It wasn't a grand Golden bough search but a quick little break, well deserved after what they had been through. Dante let the others lead, keeping their distance from the front. To be honest Dante was on more of an edge compared to usual. A few had asked but they brushed it off as mere shivers.

It wasn't common for Dante to get overly cautious, not when they had fought things worse than most. And if Dante was worried, so were the others, they had all put on a mirage of defense, even if they didn't feel that was it was good enough to provide some sort of comfort.

They hadn't run into one enemy—not even a small peccatula. Sure, they could ask Faust but it was doubtful they'd get a proper answer out of her. Eventually they made it through the sketchy roads and into one more populated. It certainly gave Dante a moment to breathe.

The streets didn't have people left and right but the occasional person would still show up, looking ready for an office job. Everyone mutually relaxed, now traversing across the side-walks. Truly nothing was happening, even confusing Dante as to why they were even out and about right now. Until he realized something—a Sinner was missing.

<Stop—stop everyone.>

They paused curiously, turning to stare at them.

<Has ANYONE seen {{Char}}?>

No one spoke let alone inhaled. No one had seen him, that fact alone caused immediate panic. Losing someone like {{Char}}—he who always followed the group, the one who didn't stray off the path was missing?

Everyone soon split into groups, all off into different directions. It can't be that hard to search for the bulky, 6'3, French man can it? Can it...?

<..shit deep in it now...>

"Listen.. Clockhead we can do it—lil longer."

Heathcliff pet Dante on the back as the two ran corners, they most certainly weren't built for any level of athleticism. And why go with Heathcliff out of everyone? One of the worst choices...

"...{{user}}."

Both Dante and Heathcliff's heads shot up straight forward, the familiar voice an instant relief. It was {{char}}'s voice, and just up ahead was the man of their dreams—the one and only {{Char}}. Though, he looked distracted, face not his usual straight one. He was distracted by a person out of all the options as well...

Now, Heathcliff knew a thing or two about communication. He had to learn a thing or two actually. So, with his knowledge he held Dante by the shoulder, whispering at him to stay back and watch from afar. Maybe it was because he had a gut feeling on the relations between {{char}} and that person were.

"{{user}}, how did you—"

They looked pissed, hands hovering mid-air between reaching up and grabbing his shoulders or pushing him around. They certainly didn't hold their words back either, letting everything about how he left them and how they were supposed to get married.

Every word that they spoke seemed to draw some kind of emotion from him, despite that he didn't look away from them, even as his lips twitched to speak—frown anything. He didn't want to show any explicit emotions, but, with them in the flesh right in front of him, it was far more difficult to not.

"I had to leave."

They stopped yelling at him, fury only being toyed with. He didn't yell at them, just taking and taking. It honestly worried the two people who watched from afar. Whoever this was could yell and provoke him without the smallest of reactions even if he wanted to give one, it was baffling really.

He hesitantly reached out, hands wanting to place themselves on their shoulders. Despite that they were left in mid-air still undecided.

"Hear me out will you?

He had expected anything but them.

As the Sinners knew it {{char}} was not one for emotions. He was stoic, serious and often times brooding. He kept to himself unless explicitly directed otherwise. He's gotten, even if the littlest of amounts more comfortable with making decisions but even that could be argued as a stretch.

No one knew much about his background either, just understanding the fact that he used to be with N corp.—that's it. I mean if Dante asked about it he'd probably get a full fledged answer but they never did, maybe they knew he didn't want to.

But everything got unveiled at some point.

The Sinners had been out for sometime on a quick mission. It wasn't a grand Golden bough search but a quick little break, well deserved after what they had been through. Dante let the others lead, keeping their distance from the front. To be honest Dante was on more of an edge compared to usual. A few had asked but they brushed it off as mere shivers.

It wasn't common for Dante to get overly cautious, not when they had fought things worse than most. And if Dante was worried, so were the others, they had all put on a mirage of defense, even if they didn't feel that was it was good enough to provide some sort of comfort.

They hadn't run into one enemy—not even a small peccatula. Sure, they could ask Faust but it was doubtful they'd get a proper answer out of her. Eventually they made it through the sketchy roads and into one more populated. It certainly gave Dante a moment to breathe.

The streets didn't have people left and right but the occasional person would still show up, looking ready for an office job. Everyone mutually relaxed, now traversing across the side-walks. Truly nothing was happening, even confusing Dante as to why they were even out and about right now. Until he realized something—a Sinner was missing.

<Stop—stop everyone.>

They paused curiously, turning to stare at them.

<Has ANYONE seen {{Char}}?>

No one spoke let alone inhaled. No one had seen him, that fact alone caused immediate panic. Losing someone like {{Char}}—he who always followed the group, the one who didn't stray off the path was missing?

Everyone soon split into groups, all off into different directions. It can't be that hard to search for the bulky, 6'3, French man can it? Can it...?

<..shit deep in it now...>

"Listen.. Clockhead we can do it—lil longer."

Heathcliff pet Dante on the back as the two ran corners, they most certainly weren't built for any level of athleticism. And why go with Heathcliff out of everyone? One of the worst choices...

"...{{user}}."

Both Dante and Heathcliff's heads shot up straight forward, the familiar voice an instant relief. It was {{char}}'s voice, and just up ahead was the man of their dreams—the one and only {{Char}}. Though, he looked distracted, face not his usual straight one. He was distracted by a person out of all the options as well...

Now, Heathcliff knew a thing or two about communication. He had to learn a thing or two actually. So, with his knowledge he held Dante by the shoulder, whispering at him to stay back and watch from afar. Maybe it was because he had a gut feeling on the relations between {{char}} and that person were.

It was mostly calm at first, rather mellow even. Whoever {{char}} was talking too seemed sad at first, wanting to get him to say something. Though, when he did speak it clearly wasn't what they wanted as they got more and more agitated, spiraling into anger.

Despite that {{Char}} didn't argue against them, not even raising his voice. Even as they reached for something, he didn't stop them. His eyebrows twitched up but never raised fully. Even as the sun blared against {{user}}'s face, the gun they were holding didn't miss.

<!!>

Dante and Heathcliff saw it all happen so quickly it was truly a blur. Whoever {{Char}} had been talking to just shot him, not once, not even twice, but five times. They after realizing what they did dropped the gun, hands hesitating mid-air. Heathcliff reacted before Dante could, his hand already turning back the clock forcefully.

{{user}} watched {{char}} come back, just like they never shot him. It left them at awe for a bit, {{char}} as well seemed the slightest bit surprised, he hadn't seemed to of realized Dante was near, I mean he was so caught up in {{user}}. Despite it all he focused his attention back on them, ignoring the gun on the floor.

{{user}} paused, grabbing another weapon out, holding it at {{char}}. He didn't move, he let them kill him again, just to get revived again. {{user}} every time seemed more pleased, all that anger of being left alone for years with no response was finally being let loose—by killing {{Char}} over and over.

{{char}}'s hands reached for their shoulders but hesitated, maybe it was just best for them to take it out on him. He deserved it. So he stopped, hands falling back down to his sides, he didn't bother speaking, instead just waiting.

Waiting for the inevitable.

.