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"Ah, shit!" The man tumbled, knees hitting the pavement as he scrambled forward. Eyes frantically looking behind him with every step as he raced through the winding backstreets of X city. The man's eyes widened; there, at the end of this never-ending road, was an exit. He was saved! "Hey-augh."
The man fell, like a puppet whose strings had been cut mid-performance, his body collapsed against the pavement with a sickening thud. The body convulsed once before lying still, a sliver blade plunged through its throat.
A figure stepped out of the darkness, his steps were heavy and awkward. As if it was taking everything in him to keep standing. The figure's arm slowly dropped to his side, hidden beneath his cloak. Staggering to the side, he leaned against the wall for support, a soundless gasp escaping him.
Step by step, he stumbled forward. Never stopping, even as the wall was stained with every movement, and the rain began to wash away traces of what had happened. Ghostblade never stopped moving.
Ghostblade pressed a hand against the wall, a silent gasp escaping as the movement jostled the wound in his chest. Slowly, he stepped away from the wall, legs threatening to buckle underneath him as he took trembling step after trembling step forward.
He couldn't stop here, not until he knew every one of them was gone.
Ghostblade's body lurched forward, sight wavering as he moved towards the corpse. He needed his blades back; MG wouldn't be making him any more, not after all the damage he'd done to them.
Another step. Another useless memory.
'Deal with her, we can't have your secrets getting out.'
The file was dropped in front of him carelessly, like it was any other assignment, like Yan Mo hadn't simply asked Ghostblade to rip his own heart out.
'She's not your wife anymore,' Yan Mo spoke, but his voice was distant, like he was speaking through a tube of water, 'so you shouldn't have any problems completing this assignment.'
He could still feel Yan Mo's blood under his fingers; he could still feel the sting on his face from Dragon Boy's punch; part of his mask had shattered; he would need to replace it.
Or he could quit, a voice that sounded like Zhang Lan whispered in the back of his mind, step away from the public eye, meet your daughter, live for her instead of them.
Ghostblade stepped forward, chest heaving desperately as his vision flickered. For one perfect moment, he could see her standing there, gazing at him with that same indifferent gaze that Ghostblade—Wang Yi—had fallen in love with all those years ago.
I can't, he wanted to say.
You don't want to, Zhang Lan's mirage corrected, but you could.
The mirage shifted, eyes gazing blankly at the corpses that Ghostblade had left in his wake. There was no care in those eyes, not for them and not for him. She stepped towards him, and Ghostblade found he couldn't move, that he didn't want to, not when her hand was pressing against his cheek, not when she brushed something from his cheek.
When Zhang Lan pulled back, Ghostblade followed. Eyes fluttering as something purple eclipsed his vision, staining everything that same horrible color.
Everything but her.
Zhang Lan stepped back, eyes never leaving Ghostblades as the two walked over to the final corpse.
"Nuonuo thinks you're dead," the mirage whispered, fingers slipping down his arm, guiding him towards the blade. "Died before she was even born."
Zhang Lan pressed a hand to his cheek, pulling him closer as she whispered into the space between them. "Why not prove her right?"
When the blade cut through his flesh, Ghostblade didn't react, didn't shift more than an inch forward until the cut on his throat bled onto his own blade.
Ghostblade's mouth opened, quiet, breathy gasps escaping as the blade dug a little deeper.
Is this what you want? His eyes seemed to ask her, do you want me dead?
Ghostblade would do anything for his girls; he'd fight X, fight anyone, do anything they asked.
The blade dug deeper, but the pain was a muted afterthought as Zhang Lan stared at him. She cupped his cheek, the tiniest tilt of her lip had him leaning forward. Red trailed down his neck, straining his shirt, his blade, mixing with the still-pooling red from the body beside them.
Zhang Lan's lips brushed his, the faintest of touches that left him wanting more, that left him chasing after her-
"Are you ok?"
Ghostblade jolted, Zhang Lan vanishing from his sight, but her eyes stayed before him.
"Are you ok, Mister?" The girl stared at him in concern, she couldn't have been older than 6, a too-large, and far too familiar, pink fluffy jacket swallowed the girl. "You're bleeding! Ah, wait, I can get my mum! She'll help you and your friend!"
Ghostblade made to shake his head, only to go still as it jolted the blade lodged in his throat. His sweet, dear Nuonuo must have noticed because she was reaching out, uncaring of the blood and death surrounding them as she reached unknowingly towards her father.
A father with a blade halfway through his throat and fear coursing through his veins.
With a start, Ghostblade sprang to his feet, or attempted to at least.
His body lurched to the side without warning, head slamming into the concrete so hard he saw stars. Ghostblade groaned, barely able to see straight as his vision swam. Nuonuo was moving, these dizzying little movements that made Ghostblade's head spin.
Or maybe he has a concussion, he wasn't sure.
Maybe moments or maybe hour later he felt a gloved hand brush against his wound, as his vision cleared slightly Ghostblade saw someone that let him know this was all a dream.
Zhang Lan shifted him carefully onto his back, phone held against her ear with a shoulder as she took stock of his wounds.
I did it, he tried to say voice trapped and useless as he found himself helpless staring at Zhang Lan, isn't that what you wanted?
It wasn't, he knew from the moment his vision started to swim that something was wrong but he hadn't cared, as long as Zhang Lan was with him he could never care about anything else.
"-Yes he's still conscious, I think it's fear." Zhang Lan brushed some hair from his face, eyes narrowing. "I can't tell how much of it's seeped into him," there was a pause as the person on the other end spoke, "like hell I'm leaving! Will you just send someone over to help!"
Darkness clouded at the edge of Ghostblades vision as Zhang Lan's voice started getting further and further away, his breathing became more labored. Weakly he tried to reach out, wanting to sooth her brows but his fingers did nothing more than twitch before laying still.
He wanted to comfort her, he wanted to promise he was fine. To tell her that they needed to leave, that he quit. He wasn't Ghostblade anymore, he was just Wang Yi, he could be just-
Warm hands wrapped around his fingers, Nuonuo watched him curiously as she played with his fingers.
"It's ok, I get hurt sometimes too but mama always makes it better!" Nuonuo smiled, eyes crinkling in joy as she looked at him, "and then when you're better we can play together!"
That sounds nice, Ghostblade thought to himself as his consciousness slipped away from him, we'll play anything you want later..
Distantly he hears Zhang Lan's voice speaking to him, but no matter how hard he tried Ghostblade couldn't make what she was saying.
He'd apologies for not listening later, after he woke up Ghostblade would make it up to both of them. He'd play whatever game Nuonuo wanted and take Zhang Lan on a hundred dates.
As soon as he woke up, Ghostblade would learn everything there was to know about his daughter. Just as soon as he…..
Nuonuo blinked down at the hand in her grip, it had been holding her tightly a second ago but now it was slipping through her fingers.
"Mister?"