FicWad

He was running lightly through the dark streets. His body ached but he had to get back or there would be trouble. It was really late, later than usual, but it was okay, he knew that he could make it before anyone noticed.

He didn’t want to be running; he didn’t technically need to be running either. But he did want and need to run. The running kept his mind off of what was happening, what had happened, and what was going to happen. So he needed it like an addict needed their vice.

Then, he ran into someone and the two of them went flying to the ground. Because of course he couldn’t get back “home” without any more difficulties. When his head cleared, he realized exactly what he’d just run into. His eyes widened.

The black clothed figure looked down at him as he got back up to his feet. The figure smirked when he saw him fully. “On your way to your next job, whore?”

That snapped something inside of him and he didn’t give a fuck who this person was. The anger bubbled up and over and he grabbed the other by the arms and rammed him into the closest wall. “Don’t. Call. Me. That,” he growled.

In an instant he was the one pressed against the wall with a sharp blade at his throat. “Don’t threaten me. And it’s what you are,” the other boy said through his teeth, looking down at what he was wearing.

He followed the other boy’s gaze down to look, again, at what he knew would be there, what was always there. On his feet was a pair of shiny gold boots with his subtly sparkly black jumpsuit tucked in and covering his whole body up to just under his collarbone and to the ends of his wrists. He had a gold belt around his waist that wasn’t really a belt, just a band of color that wrapped around him to make him look more “appealing”. And on his face was the soft black and gold mask that covered the top half of his face and pointed up a little on the ends. The other boy was right.

“Kill me please. Now. You’re right, I threatened you, and you should kill me.”

The other boy lowered his knife and let him step away from the wall. Through his mask the other boy narrowed his eyes. “I’m not a means of suicide. Why are you so eager to die? Don’t you live the high life?”

“I hate what I am,” he answered, putting all the venom he could manage into that statement.

The other boy looked suddenly conflicted and Ryan could tell he was young. “I’m sorry. I’m not going to kill you. For one because it’s against my code, I wish I could help you,” he said.

He raised his eyebrow and looked at the boy across from him who was clad in all black: Black boots, black pants, a black tunic like shirt, and a very thin black cape, along with a mask that covered the whole top half of his head and knotted in the back. “A compassionate assassin? Do my eyes betray me?”

“And a whore with a conscience. Aren’t we a pair?” the other boy answered sarcastically.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Your name first.”

He rolled his eyes, assassins. “Ryan.”

The other boy nodded. “Spencer.”

“You know Spencer, if you really wanted to help me, you would kill me now,” Ryan said persuasively, holding his arms out from his chest offering a straight shot at all of his vital organs. “You could think of it as practice.”

“I still don’t understand why you want to die so badly.” Ryan sighed, he didn’t really want to explain but he knew that he would have to if he had any chance in getting what he wanted.

“I fucking hate my life. I can’t stand what I am. I can’t stand being this,” he gestured at his clothing. “I can’t walk through town without having people stare at me. Whenever I simply walk through the main square I get my whole night filled up. Do you know how horrible it is, people just wanting you for your body and your looks? People don’t give a fuck about me, all they want is any number of sexual acts. Can you blame me for wanting to die so much?”

Spencer sighed. “No, but you aren’t my mark. I don’t want to kill someone who I’m having an actual, civil conversation with right now, either. But, I may be able to help you.”

Ryan raised an eyebrow. “I’m listening.”

Spencer stopped looking at him for a moment and reached inside his shirt, he pulled out a small bundle and held it out to him. “This is as good as I can do.”

Ryan took the bundle from Spencer’s outstretched hand and looked at it in confusion, turning it over and over in his hands, examining it for any clue as to what it was.

“You’ve probably heard that assassins have disguises right? For everyday life, I wouldn’t be able to walk anywhere without people screaming and running. So, I have disguises, one for every kind of person.

“I’m not sure which one that is, but it’ll be better. All you have to do to put it on is unfold it a little and the lights will do the rest. To take it off just pull down the collar a little bit and it will come off like water. Let me show you.”

Spencer reached into his shirt and took out another bundle. He unfolded the top and bottom of it so that it was still a small rectangle. Apparently that was enough though because strings of blue and white and yellow light emitted from the rectangle and reached out to Spencer, taking the rectangle out of his hands. The lights laced around Spencer’s body and before he knew it Ryan was looking at the same boy in the color of the Head of Heads, and anyone who worked under him.

Then Spencer tugged the collar of the dark green shirt down and the whole outfit went limp and rolled off of him like water. He stepped out of them, in his black attire, and the clothes wrapped themselves back into a bundle. “See? It’s easy,” he said, tucking it back into his shirt.

“Th-thank you,” Ryan said, holding onto his bundle tighter, shocked that a stranger, much less an assassin, would give him such a wonderful thing.

“Oh and one more thing. The disguise also stops working when you act… I hate putting it this way but it’s how it was explained to me and it’s the only way I can think of to explain it. Please don’t take this the wrong way.” Ryan nodded.

“The disguise stops working when you act true to your nature.” Spencer must have seen Ryan’s face because he said, “See? I know that you hate what you do and that you aren’t probably naturally like that. But if I were to even grab someone harder than just a gentle hold while in disguise, the disguise would be gone and they would see what I really am. The lights are powerful, Creators tried making more durable disguises, but no one can totally fuck with the will of the lights,” Spencer explained.

Ryan nodded again. “Thank you, Spencer.”

“No problem. Now, I have a job to do,” he said, turning.

“Wait! I have one more question.” Spencer turned around and looked at him. “Whatever the disguise is…I have to do the work that that type of person has to do, correct?” Ryan asked.

“If you wear it around the city you do. Unless you got a disguise that doesn’t require you to work.”

“Okay. Thank you,” Ryan said again, clutching the bundle even tighter in his hands and turning around to go “home”.

“Just don’t get caught!” Spencer called after him before Ryan heard the whisper of footsteps on the pavement and he knew that Spencer had run off to go do his job.

Ryan didn’t intend to get caught with this. This was his new hope. It was hope given to him by an assassin on his way to kill someone who got on somebody’s bad side, but that didn’t really matter to him. He couldn’t wait until the next day when he could put it on and finally walk around without people making eyes at him or looking him up and down to decide if he’d be worth their time.

He slipped through the door of the white concrete building that he had to live in and walked into the auditorium where he was required to sleep. Ryan passed the other bodies clad in black and gold. Mostly everyone was asleep by now, spent for the day and resting up for the next.

He lay down in the corner that he loved so much and stared upward toward the ceiling that he couldn't even see. He picked at the black part of the suit that was really more like skin; hence the name of the garment. He didn’t choose that path, so why was he there? Why did the world pick him to do such a horrible thing?

Black and gold were the colors of those picked to be whores. Or, their official name, Satisfiers. Black and gold, those two colors defined him when he was seen in the streets. The skin never got dirty, it never tore or looked worn, and he could only take it off for a few hours before the lights acted on his body and brought it back. It had been with him since his birth, and it would be stuck to him for the rest of his life.

All of them wore black and gold but there were different designs and most weren’t nearly as plain as his was. There was a boy somewhere that had the gold parts as fur and the black parts as silk cloth. Most of the others had more complex masks too with designs and little accessories. But, unfortunately for him, even though he was probably the plainest of them all, he still managed to get almost more “business” than everyone else.

He sighed and tried to make himself comfortable on the floor. The Head Satisfier was an asshole who made them sleep on the floor all in the big auditorium so they were almost on display in their tight skins. As if anyone was going to walk through the door. He told them to leave the rooms for business that had to come “home”.

Ryan ground his teeth and tucked the bundle into the corner where it wouldn’t be seen. It was a good thing that he usually woke up early. He could slip out and put on whatever the disguise was and be a normal citizen for once in his life.

That thought made him smile just a little and he fell asleep.

*

It was early the next morning when he awoke, as it usually was. He uncurled himself from the ball he was in and stretched. He looked around and when he was satisfied that no one else was awake, he took the bundle out of the corner and left the building. He found a secluded corner and quickly looked both ways to check if anyone was coming. Of course, no one was and he turned back to the bundle in his hand.

It was a little strange to think that his hope and quite possibly his sanity were contained in this little bundle that fit in the palm of his hand. He wondered briefly what disguise it would be. What life would this project him into? Then Ryan shook his head. Did it really matter? He would have a day when no one was staring at him like he was either scum or some object to obtain. For that, he would be just about anything.

Without hesitation he unfolded the top and bottom of the bundle and the ribbons of lights, white, blue, and yellow, came out and began to wind around him and take the bundle out of his hands. The lights went up his body and when they were at his shoulders he closed his eyes.

Then it was over and he opened his eyes. He didn’t feel any different but around his eyes he could see just the little hints of white. It was a mask; everyone wore masks no matter what your profession was. The color, of course, was what changed based on the profession.

Without looking down he reached up and took the mask off of his face and looked at it. It was a little stiff in the middle but was covered by cloth and when he took it off, it bent a little. He turned it around and looked at it.

It was a half mask, like most were. And it was beautiful; it was much more detailed than his mask. It was silver on the top with branching spirals going down the side. The tops of the eyes were outlined with silver and the top of the mask, the part that rested on the forehead, was silver. The bottom that rested on the cheek bones was white.

Silver and white… he quickly looked down at the rest of his body and the new skin.

There were white boots with swirling silver lines running from the top, down the sides, and swirling down to the toe. He had tight pants that fit much the same way that his normal jumpsuit fit but they were cloth instead of thin rubber and they didn’t stick to his skin. There was a silver line that branched out into swirls going down the outside of his left leg and disappearing into the boot before he could see where it ended, as well as an intricate pattern of interlocking lines on the side of his right thigh. His long-sleeved shirt was just the right size, not tight at all and it was white with a silver vest over top that had all kinds of markings on it, some looking like old script, some looking similar to the design on his thigh. And on his hands were, one white and one silver, fingerless gloves.

Silver and white…they were the colors of Performers. That’s what he got to do now; he got to be a Performer. He was a Performer, one of the almost magic beings that lived secretly in their little society, coming out once a week to enchant the world with their talent. He was stepping into their lives, he was getting an inside look on the mysterious creatures almost everyone idolized.

This meant that he would have to work though, and that meant that he would have to be around all of the other ones and risk getting caught. Ryan thought that there were enough of them for him not to be noticed. But, they were supposed to be a pretty tight-knit group and it wouldn't surprise him if they all knew each other by name, face, skin, and mask.

He couldn’t back down now though. It was either: go in and hope that he wasn’t noticed or take the skin off and go about hiding so that he wasn’t immediately spotted and had his day taken up by having to pleasure other men who didn’t really care who he was. It wasn’t a mind-boggling decision.

So Ryan took a breath and walked out of the corner and into the light. The rest of the town had woken up by now and busy people were bustling along in the streets. He knew where the building for the rest of the Performers was and he made his way carefully through the streets, trying not to draw attention to himself. It was difficult to go unnoticed when you were wearing shiny silver and bright white, especially when the skin was so intricately designed like his was.

Everyone knew that Performers rarely came out of their building unless it was one of the weekly town meetings, so obviously seeing him was a bit of a shock. Luckily he was good at ignoring people and their looks, good or bad and he hurried along the street to his destination. The building loomed in front of him and looked oddly welcoming even though his heart was beating out of his chest at the thought of being found out. He didn’t pause for long to think about it, no, he went straight through the front doors, eager to be somewhere where he wasn’t going to stand out quite so much.

That was where he stopped because he wasn’t sure exactly where to go next. There was probably some kind of dividing system in the building and he realized that he’d been idiotic to just come in the door. He should have watched for a while to see how things worked and to see where he could slip in.

Ryan had been there before though, once or twice, and he knew that the entrance was the main part of the building and was rarely empty this early on, he had only to wait a few minutes and the foyer would be flocked with activity and noise. So he put himself in a corner and tried his best to melt into it as he waited for the rest of the people to come out so he could hide among them, hopefully.

He wasn’t disappointed, maybe five or ten minutes later, a whole group of white and silver clad bodies came into the room. They were talking, laughing, singing, dancing, some had instruments that they were playing, and they seemed to be having a good time. It intrigued Ryan, and he watched in silent fascination, eyes soaking everything up and recording it to memory.

At the weekly town meetings his favorite part was always the performances. There were skits and musical numbers and songs and dances, and plenty of entertainment. It was the only time of the week when he let himself go to watch the captivating skits or to look on in awe at the dances and the music. No one paid real close attention to him when the entertainment was up, so he was allowed to be let alone. Of course the meetings were always darkened by men coming up to him at the end and requesting his services though, the only bad thing about the event.

He wasn’t noticed yet and he was content watching from his place, as the group went through to another room, not quieting a bit, and the foyer was filled with the more Performers. Ryan was absentmindedly tapping his fingers against his arm to the beat that was coming from a short, thin, blondish boy with a guitar.

Ryan realized that he needed to figure out what was going on and what he should do before he got sucked in too much. He didn’t intend to tell anyone about him being in disguise but he needed more information as to what was going on so he could become one of the Performers, outwardly anyway.

If only he could find someone away from all of the chaos and somehow get them to tell him about what he should be doing and where he should be going without giving anything away. Everyone else seemed too wrapped up in their festivities to probably answer any questions. Or, he could stay on the floor and join in the crowd, moving with everyone else. It was tempting.

He caught sight of a set of stairs in the back of the room and he made his way toward them, though. It wasn’t too hard, all of the others were moving enough that no one was really in his way and they all parted for him, like he was one of them already. It was odd, but he liked it.

Ryan started up the first few steps of the stairs and paused to look at the group below him that was still singing, dancing, and laughing. He felt strangely content here. There was only music and what looked like a skit, instead of the lustful, hungry gazes back “home”.

With a rare smile he climbed the remaining steps to the top. There was a hallway with doorways leading off. It was much quieter up there and while he did like the music and the sounds of actual happiness, he liked the quiet too.

He was shaken out of his little moment of peace by a raised voice coming from down the hall. He couldn’t make out the words but his curiosity was spiked. Carefully and quietly, he slunk down the hallway and positioned himself near the door, not beside it in case it suddenly opened. The voices were still talking and now he could hear them.

“Ah, but, Brendon, you are mine,” a voice that was not the one that had yelled said smoothly in a tone not unlike the one Satisfiers used.

“I am not yours. You do not own me Jeffry, no matter what you or the law says. DON’T touch me,” the first voice said, obviously Brendon.

“Go ahead and say that, Brendon. But, the law says that you are and there’s nothing you can really do about it. I can do this,” Ryan had a good idea about what was happening, the second voice, Jeffry, was doing “something” to Brendon and breathing on, and/or kissing his neck. “all I want.”

Ryan had subconsciously inched closer to the door and he heard Brendon’s sharp intake of breath at the contact. Next, he heard a thud followed by a crash and assumed that Brendon had gotten himself out of that situation.

Then Ryan heard the sound of angry footsteps coming toward the door and he leapt away from it, scrambling back a few feet. And none too soon either, the door opened a mere second later and an angry looking boy, about his age, with black hair, came storming out, followed by, “You’ll regret that Brendon!” Jeffry yelled.

The other boy looked up, eyes blazing with an intense fire, and he glared with at the closed door with a look of pure fury on his face, turning his pale face just a shade darker. At that moment, he turned around and caught sight of Ryan. He stalked over, right in front of him. Ryan was a few inches taller, though he didn’t feel that way in the face of that anger.

“Who are you?” Brendon demanded, eyes narrowed and glinting at him; face still darkened.
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VISUAL AID (because they look cooler than I was able to describe them)

Ryan’s black and gold mask: http://t2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRtPQveGMY97jYZEg1cMAH1VYX2QtNnltD-foQlX4nmCb4qOdke

Ryan’s silver and white mask: http://t3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRSCYhMZYAtfXOCIzAKyCah_DF8_fvBpKet_zMlsAOc8tS2L1-0

It's short, I know. It's just a little thing to see if people are interested though. Rate and review, please?