Something’s wrong

[Alva Ren]

He has a reason.

It's not what you think.

There's an explanation for it.

Alva paused at the corner of 4th avenue to rest his arms, sliding his chair as close to the brick wall of a building as possible so that he wouldn't be in the way of any pedestrians. Not that the sidewalk was crowded by any stretch of the imagination. In fact, there was no one around; this was the shady part of town.

He sighed as he gently massaged his shoulder, working his way down the arm. It was still tiring to go long distances in his chair, despite so many years in it. Alva used to be better, livelier, but lately he was worn down and tired and generally not his old, energetic self. He felt that something had changed in him. Something was wrong.

Ever since the messy break-up, Alva kept to himself. He needed time away from everyone clamoring to offer solutions to his problems; he wanted to be left alone to work out his feelings. How did he feel towards Rae? How did he feel about Susumu? Who was he without Rae, and with Susumu?

Alva thought that he was mostly sure about where he stood on the both of them—before his memories were wiped. After that he wasn't necessarily happier, but life seemed less complicated. There was a lot of work to do; he helped Susumu as best as he could, throwing himself into his work to avoid thinking about that nagging feeling of something wrong in the back of his mind.

Then, discovering that a spell had been cast on him to make him forget put him right back at square one. He kept the video he recorded on his own phone and he watched it whenever he felt himself beginning to forget again. It helped. Even now he felt the spell creeping back, but he was able to keep it at bay. Maybe he couldn't remember the finer details but he remembered Ryland, Yoojin, Rae.

He had to find Susumu fast, though. This was a horrible breach of trust, no matter what the reasons were for the spell. Susumu would never hurt him, Alva knew this—he had to have a good reason. He was doing it to protect Alva, only Alva didn't need it. He was stronger than people thought; being in a wheelchair didn't make him helpless.

Sighing, Alva started back out into the street. He passed by a few buildings and shook his head at the graffiti on the walls. As he turned the corner, he sighted the back of a building—one known to be a supernatural brothel, no less. Sometimes Alva came here to drop off care packages; even sex workers needed basic necessities. He even got to know some of them, learned about their stories and what landed them here.

Just as he passed the back door, he heard a series of pop pop pop coming from inside. Alva paled; those were gunshots, coming from within the brothel! He put out a hand and his fingertips just barely touched the handle when the door flew open. A man stood there, backed by darkness. His eyes met Alva's; he smiled reassuringly and reached out a hand to grasp Alva's wrist, pulling him inside with superhuman strength.

It was like the darkness from within was alive. It covered him, coated him from head to toe. Alva didn't even struggle; this ancient magic felt somehow familiar. He closed his eyes and let the darkness in and when he opened his eyes again, he was... different. His form was long and sleek and mobile. He was in the shadows but he was... he was the shadows. It was him, it belonged to him.

Alva slunk around the corners of the room, unseen and unheard. A man, tall and blond, wary and cautious, appeared at the doorway. Alva slid around him as he spoke, his voice as wary as his stance.

"Sir. Sir, please get up."

There was a funny lilt to his voice that Alva idly recognized as Irish. It didn't mean anything, though. He waited, lurking, watching, until his master stood and gave the command to attack. Alva lunged and sank his teeth, long and sharp like daggers, into the man's shoulder.

Kill him. Kill the hunter.