aison: and silent dreamers (secret keepers)
A ([personal profile] aison) wrote in [community profile] veiledallegory2012-11-01 02:24 am

Landel's Damned: Heads Up Display.

Title: Heads Up Display
Fandom: Damned/Durarara!!/Supernatural.
Warnings: Blood splatter.
Word Count: 2370
Character(s): Mikado, Izaya, Castiel, the Trickster, Claire Stanfield, Shizuo, Shinra.
Pairing(s): Claire/trains? Izaya/pillows.
Summary: Mikado has a new skill. It gets him into a bit of a problem....
Notes: Very light Durarara!! and Supernatural spoilers?


“Let’s play--”

There was very little for a high school student to acknowledge in this kind of setting. Very little at all, actually. Because it defied all common sense and logic in the way that Shizuo’s strength defied physics. So, in essence, Mikado should leave things as they were. Ignore it as a dream’s ramblings, and just continue. Right.

He sat in the audience seats and watched almost blankly as the host pumped his fist in the air excitedly.

“--Nutcracker!!”

As the man answered wrong, and the device swung upwards to slam right below the man’s torso-- The boy gulped quietly, looking away instantly before glancing back. No. He’d admit it. This was too strange to even be a dream. Far too much.

To explain, we’ll have to go backwards a bit.

---

This was the first day that Mikado’s bandages were off, and the boy celebrated as most teenagers would do--by eating. Not that he considered it a celebration of any sort, but still it remained; that the sandwich tasted better without the tang of fear beneath it, because he could see through both eyes, and quite well, and he was starting to see what happened as an experience, and was trying to see it as nothing more. Time pressed him onward, and there was still much here that he had to see. Pun unintended, but anyway.

And it wasn’t as if it had changed anything, either. He had talked to a few people and nothing was seen as different. Izaya had even stopped by, to look over Mikado with a critical eye, but nothing had obviously changed. When the boy had smiled and attempted to reassure him, the informant had only smiled.

“You know Castiel, don’t you?” the man had said congenially.

Mikado had raised his eyebrows with a question unsaid. “I’m acquainted with him. We don’t really know each other well….”

Izaya waved a hand, moving off. “You might find something interesting about him. You should speak with him.”

Mikado watched the man walk off and wondered, what, exactly, would be more interesting today than any other.

---

…Maybe the word that had popped up in a corner of his vision.

It had flashed in red three times-- ANGEL --before dimming to grey, a still-obvious intrusion onto his sight. Mikado had swung around a few times, trying to find where the words were actually located, before it finally sunk in with the finality of a surprise test.

He was in a video game-- Wait, no; that wasn’t it at all! What was going on?! It was far too much like a video game, a HUD popping up in the corner to scan the enemy’s data, but what was this?! That wasn’t reality, and even he knew this, but--

“After tonight, that doctor had said-- “You'll be capable of identifying any person who isn't completely human with just a glance.”

You can't tell me that at least part of you isn’t intrigued by that.

Mikado gaped dumbly, trying to stare at the word in his vision and failing, and Castiel tilted his head, frowning in utter bewilderment. “Excuse me--”

“What?! --Ah, sorry. I’m sorry, it’s just--” A situation such as this called for tact, poise, and utter calm. Rationale above all else. Mikado took in a breath, closing his eyes. Yes. Complete calm.

His eyes flashed open, bright joy lighting up enough for Castiel to lean back cautiously. An intelligent notion. The boy leaned forward, fists clenched in excitement. “Are you an angel?”

…And that, as they say, was that.

---

Doubt was normally a healthy notion, but after each time Mikado asked, and there was anger or resignation in reply, it started to become something that he didn’t question. If the HUD said homunculi, then that woman was a homunculi. If it said vampire, then Mikado stared from a distance. If it said angel, well--

It was sort of karma, really. That it ended as it began.

The man wasn’t familiar to Mikado, so the boy wasn’t sure if he was a patient being used, or someone to watch out for at night. But still, the display popped up, the same as it had been a week ago. Flashing red three times then dulling to grey: ANGEL.

And the boy smiled stupidly, asked despite the threatening atmosphere the man was holding, “Are you an angel?”

There was an indiscernible look, a flash of rage and something else, and then the man’s expression settled into a thin grin. His hand raised, fingertips close together. “Nah, kid. I’m a Trickster.”

He snapped his fingers.

---

“Let’s play-- Nutcracker!!”

And this is where we started.

Mikado stared a moment more at the stage, at the nonsense being asked and the fail attempts to answer. If it wasn’t a dream, then…. He moved to ask the person next to him, but their eyes shone blank in their skull. Right. Then. Hand half-raised as if to ask a question, Mikado watched the surroundings. Then quietly got up and moved to the side exit.

He had no idea what was going on.

His hand pressed against the door, and there was a burst of light, and--

---

The ground was speeding past him faster than he could recognize. His mind, unable to keep up, faltered and shifted, vertigo winning out, and he leaned out into the opening without meaning to. He could feel himself falling, and then there was a hand at his back, grabbing his shirt to pull him back in.

“Hey, kid,” said the smiling face, darkened by shadows. “You gotta be more careful, okay?” The man reached past him to pull the train car door closed, and Mikado thought that perhaps it wasn’t just shadows against his face, perhaps it was blood.

Oh. Blood. Was that all.

Then the voice he heard set in, and Mikado’s eyes locked on to the man’s--who was watching him with an open expression. “Hey, do I know you or something?”

Did he know him? Not… in the way people would normally think. But Mikado had had this conversation before. “No, I just… thought you were someone else.” This was an echo, of a different time, and like before, this person answered--

“Wait, someone looks like me?” --With an expression of light joy and purely innocent curiosity. How this was done with the blood splatter on his face, Mikado couldn’t say. “Are they here? I’ll have to meet them!”

“No, I, um--” Have had this conversation before. Exactly like this. In a mental institute that Mikado was becoming increasingly sure he belonged in. Just… Oh, never mind. “Do you know where we are?”

The man puffed up. “On my train o’course, kid! Don’t you know? I’m the conductor here!” He paused and seemed to rethink that declaration, as he looked down at himself and his blood-soaked clothes. “Well, not right now exactly. And I gotta be getting back to that anyway. But you gotta be more careful, kid!” He looked up sternly at Mikado, then smiled again. “Go on that-a-way. You’ll be safe there.”

He pointed at the further door, and Mikado only nodded, then stumbled that way. What else do you do when given orders by the Rail Tracer?

---

Opening the door from the train car revealed a school yard. Of course. Because that made perfect sense. His hand hesitated to let go of the door for a moment, then he just dropped his arm. Why not. It wasn’t as if any of this meant anything more than the fact that Mikado really needed to rethink if that mental institute was really a mental institute because, really--

“Iiii-za-ya!!”

…The boy froze, survival mechanisms kicking in as something was hurled past his face. His face paled, blood draining out of it, as he realized that the thing that crashed down into the earth just past him was a set of school bleachers. And the only one who could do that, while yelling in that voice….

The blonde stomped into view. The strongest man in Ikebukuro. One Heiwajima Shizuo.

--Wait. One far younger than average Heiwajima Shizuo. He looked closer to Mikado’s age now than Shizuo’s actual age. He stormed closer, and Mikado started, “Um, Heiwajima-sa--”

“You!” Rage-filled eyes turned on Mikado, and the boy shrunk back. “Did that flea come through here?” Shizuo whipped around, glaring. “Where did he go!”

Mikado, who had only seen Shizuo, stayed silent. Because as mentioned, only Mikado and Shizuo existed on this school yard at the present, and Mikado really, really did not want Shizuo’s full attention on him when the blonde was this mad--

“Shizuo-kun!” There was a dark-haired boy with glasses waving happily to Shizuo, and Mikado was all too happy to let him divert the other’s attention.

The aforementioned glared at the newcomer. “Shinra. Where is the flea?” A simple question was never more a threat than at that moment.

Shinra beamed. “Are you looking to make up with Iza--”

He side-stepped quickly as a field post was hefted up and tossed towards him. Hands raised, Shinra, still smiling, tried again. “So I guess you found out about that little prank, huh?”

A snarl was the only response, and Shinra just continued to talk happily. Mikado… was more than a little impressed. This person was either completely brave or just utterly stupid. For his part, Shinra leaned forward, almost conspiratorially. “Do you want to go see Orihara-kun?”

Shizuo stormed towards him. “Take me to him, Shinra.”

Mikado, ignored, felt obligated to follow.

---

He guessed that when someone else opened a door it took them to the place they were originally supposed to go, but it didn’t stop him from staring when the school door actually opened into the school. Miracles did happen, he supposed, but there wasn’t really any time for that when he was stalking the younger versions of Ikebukuro’s legends around school. This was a little different from what he knew, but if things were roughly the same, Shinra was leading Shizuo towards--

“The infirmary?! Is that flea really in there, Shinra?”

Not phased, Shinra nodded without saying anything, and placed a finger to his lips. Shizuo growled a curse, but Shinra stayed in that position until Shizuo thinned his lips and curtly nodded. Then Shinra glanced at Mikado.

He had almost been assuming he was invisible. Surprise was a light emotion compared to this. Shinra tapped his finger against his lips again, and Mikado dumbly mirrored the motion. Smiling, Shinra moved to open the door slowly.

And inside, existed a horror.

--No, that wasn’t right exactly. Inside was a young Orihara Izaya, obviously flushed with fever, and clinging tightly to a fluffed up pillow, body curled around it like a young girl would to her favorite toy. There was an upset pout on the would-be informant’s face, and he murmured in his sleep. For Mikado, who had been starting to idolize the man, it was like seeing a celebrity snort food from their nose. And honestly…. It was sort of frightening to envision. He couldn’t rationalize why, but it seemed somewhat… entirely wrong. And anyway--

“And anyway,” the Trickster said. “It’s not the kind of face he likes to share with others.”

Mikado shrieked.

---

The room was frozen as it had been last, Shizuo’s face in a mix of horror and disgust, Shinra’s of undisguised glee, and Izaya shoving his face deeper into the pillow he was clutching. And the man who identified himself as the Trickster was now right in the middle, glaring lightly at the one in the bed. He turned to Mikado.

“This guy,” he said, pointing a thumb backwards at Izaya. “Thinks he has it alllll figured out, right? Up is down, black is white; whatever he wants it to be. He’s pretty obnoxious. And likes to play with others more than I do. And that’s--” he said, raising his eyebrows. “--Saying something.” A shrug of his shoulders, a shake of his head. Every movement was an actor’s motion, and Mikado recognized that. “Basically, I’m saying the guy’s an asshole.”

…Probably, Mikado thought to himself, but he wasn’t willing to speak up now.

“So basically, I got a deal to throw past you, capisce? I’ll call it even, and let you out of here.” Why Mikado was ‘in here’ to begin with was still a mystery, but-- “As long you do two things for me. Okay?”

The boy blinked warily, then slowly nodded his head. “What are they?”

“Good kid!” the Trickster grinned and clapped his hands. “One; forget all about whatever made you think I was an ‘angel’, okay? Because that is just ridiculous, isn’t it?” A question never sounded more like a threat-- Mikado wondered if this person would get along with Shizuo. “And two…” He snapped his fingers and a polaroid appeared between them. This he held out to Mikado. “Toss this around for me. To play a joke on this guy. You decide what you want to do with it. But it can’t be destroyed, or removed from anywhere, by the person in the picture, so you can play it however you want.”

The picture, of course, being of Izaya as he was now, pouting and flushed and cuddling the pillow as if he loved it. It was enough to make Mikado’s body grow chill. But still he reached out and plucked the picture from the Trickster’s hand. Izaya and Mikado… Their relationship wasn’t so complicated to be diluted by misplaced trust. Or so he wanted to think. “I can do that.”

The Trickster smiled, a crocodile’s grin. “Good kid,” he repeated slowly. “Next time, be a little more careful on guessing people’s identities. It’ll save you a good deal of trouble.” He rolled his eyes. “Or not. Whatever. Sweet dreams, kid.”

The Trickster raised a hand, and snapped his fingers.

---

Three things came from that night. Mikado grew to be more careful about his declarations of race and species. For a time period, there was rumors that someone was frantic to get a certain picture off the bulletin, though when confronted on it, the aforementioned person would only give a breezy reply and murmur about photoshop. And the third--

Castiel squinted his eyes analytically at the picture still hanging on the bulletin board, despite Izaya’s attempted manipulations of removal. The angel tilted his head slightly, then glanced to the man beside him. “Is this normal behavior for someone who is infatuated with humans?”

A few feet away, Mikado bit his lip hard to hold in his laughter.

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