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â Warning: Due to the charactersâ multiple origins, different languages will be spoken simultaneously in-universe. All of them will be written in English (aside from some potential puns or idiomatic expressions every once in a while, perhaps), but in order to easily keep track of which language is used at which moment, here is a visual code. The color of the text indicates which language itâs originally written/spoken in: black for English, red for Japanese, blue for French.
Ono-B6.8
Rue de lâUniversitĂ© (7e), Paris (France)
May 12th, 2013 â 11:17 AM
The sky rumbled again. Clouds were gathering and darkening, quickly forming a somber and downy dome over the city. Mere moments later, a thin layer of rain poured and ricocheted on the paving stones, emitting light and harmonious tones. Most passersby had seen the shower coming, thus they were for the most part already heading indoors as soon as they had heard the first warnings from the thunder; the others, who couldnât find shelter soon enough, were now all waiting under the stores of random shops, bus stops, or any other place which could keep them dry.
Having taken cover under a floristâs pergola, two teenagers were waiting along with the others, staring at this threatening black angry vault. The first one was a young college student with red messy hair, nonchalantly wiping the raindrops away from his glasses. His friend, right by his side, yet again gave another concerned glance at the ever falling river. The ground was now buried underwater, while every single paved stone of the street was reflecting the sky. For fear of damaging the violin case she was holding, she squeezed it further against her chest, as her blue eyes seemed to stare at every single translucent drop hitting the ground.
A small squeal resounded between them both; a little dog with white short hair laid down on the dry portion of the street, dropping his disheartened head on his front legs and blowing a long sigh. For certain, as soon as they would get home, he would once again have to take a bath. He hated baths. Why would they always keep making him go through something as useless and wet as this. Seriously.
The young lady subtly shook her head in order to pull away some of the wet blonde hair that was now covering her face, but she reluctantly had to use her right hand to succeed. She carefully rolled up her other armâs sleeve to perk a little glance at her watch: as she bit her lip in worry, she turned a shy look towards her friend.
âIt seems like it wonât stop anytime soon, RaphaĂ«lâŠâ she whispered in a soft, but anxious tone. âThe rehearsal starts in less than ten minutes. Weâre going to be lateâŠâ
The teenager in question put his glasses back on his nose and glared at the sky irritably. He frowned, but immediately sighed. As he kept his brown eyes staring at the clouds, he suddenly asked:
âHow far is it yet?â
âNot much, we were almost there. Hardly two minutes⊠Itâs too bad, isnât it?â
âIf we run, it should take less than a minute.â
She jumped a bit in surprise, turning towards him in a sudden; but he was smirking with that smile she knew all too well. She responded with a little nod. The actual storm was still pretty far away from their current location, and though it looked like it was headed towards them, it wouldnât reach them this fast. They hopefully wouldnât get too wet if they truly made it as fast as her friend thought, and even if they didâ well, he had already made up his mind, and there was no changing him. In any case, this only was a rehearsal, not an actual concert; whatever happened, the blame could not be put on them, could it? The only hesitation left was because of her violin, but the case was probably watertight enough so she could allow running under such shower for at least a few minutes.
The young man seized her right wrist carefully but firmly, still with that same smirk of his.
â Marie, Fondue, are you ready?â
Following a signal that initially sounded more like a joke rather than a serious order, the little group suddenly dashed through the rain as if it were a mere game. Laughing obliviously as their steps echoed against the paved street, their incongruously blissful tones contrasted deeply with the surrounding showering orchestra.
However, the joke did not last.
A great light burst. The redhead first thought it was just another bolt, which would have just been much closer than the others; but as the accompanying thunder somehow didnât follow, he understood that it definitely was something different. Given that he had already let go off his friendâs wrist in order to run faster, only her scream made him realize that something really was happening. He would have recognized her voice among thousands, and when he turned around, he effectively saw that the blonde girl was now harassed by three suspicious individuals. They seemed to drag her somewhere, and she obviously was doing her best to escape from their grasp.
While Fondue was barking as loud as he could, his handler dashed towards them to help her; but one of them, a tall brunet in a black suit, immediately targeted him instead, and before he could even fully realize it, the college student was already immobilized and stopped by the end of a gun stuck in his neck.
Although the agent seemed to use his weapon more as a means of intimidation rather than as its initial intended use, Raphaël was still frozen by terror, as he had apparently not noticed that the safety tip had not even been undone in the first place.
The last member of the mysterious group, a woman with dark hair, came closer to the young violinist and forced a handkerchief against her face; the chloroform that was probably imbibed in it took effect, and in a few seconds Marie lost her consciousness, immediately putting an end to her struggles. The agent who was detaining her took her in his arms, as the woman carefully picked up the violinâs case.
Losing his nerve, the redhead almost forgot the threat stuck in his neck. He quickly reasoned that, if he managed to be swift enoughâŠ
At the same time, the white dog tried to help his handler and started biting the mysterious manâs leg with rage, and successfully had the agent drop his guard when he cried in pain and released his grasp, if ever so slightly. A shot was launched from his gun, but given that the aim was completely off, it felt obvious that it was only intended to scare the little pet away. Fondue indeed yelped in fear and ran away immediately, but now RaphaĂ«l had finally obtained the opening he had needed.
Parisâ paved stones are locally known for being particularly slipperyâ even more so when the entire street was drowned under such shower. Seizing this chance to his advantage, RaphaĂ«l feigned slipping on one of them and used the smooth surface to let him quickly arch his back and escape from the agentâs grasp by hitting strongly his stomach, turn around to face his aggressor, and benefit from the residual kinetic energy to send his foot on the line of a swift and well-placed chassĂ©â
The agent dodged it so fast, the Parisian hardly saw him move.
Still stunned by such incongruous skill from a person he had obviously underestimated, the teenager froze. The speed of his previous move, instead of letting its energy dissipate within the hit, consequently induced the paved stonesâ ability against him and his short distraction was all that was needed for him to lose control over his other grounded foot, which slipped as well. RaphaĂ«l was sent flying in midair, and eventually landed painfully one meter away, the back of his head banging violently against a stone. Since the hit left him barely conscious, he was effectively powerless for long seconds.
The brunet agent came closer and helped him up, but also restrained him even more firmly; the young redhead, still dazed, couldnât fully grasp his surroundings anymore, let alone struggle.
When the man in black turned towards the two other agents, he called them out on somethingâ but RaphaĂ«l didnât understand a word, though he reasoned that the sentence had sounded like a question. The womanâs voice echoed in return, and her response was probably some sort of order. The group was then dragged through a nearby alley, followed by a distressed little white dog.
What the hell are you doing? What do you want from us!?
The young boy wanted to yell all the questions (and possible French swears) that were passing through his head, but his foggy mind and unresponsive body prevented him from doing anything further than barely mumbling these words. His round glasses were hardly hanging on his face following the fight.
The man who was maintaining him looked particularly calm, almost sad. Upset. It was obvious that he did not want to harm anyone, so what was the meaning of all this mess?
And he was not even taking his battling skills into account. The very teenager who had been able countless times to easily outwit and deceive the entire police forces together was now stopped so effortlessly by just some random man with the reflexes of a freaking ninja who was not even trying to hurt him! Who the hell was that guy?!
Raphaël tried to mumble that he had no idea what he was saying, but a wide blinding light burst around them before he could utter a single word.
Fondue stopped suddenly and yelped, covering his eyes from what he believed to be a bolt which had fallen right in front of himâ without making a single sound, however. A split second later, the alley was empty.
The little dog howled, not caring anymore about the cold shower ever falling on his short hair and trembling legs.
Who cared if he was soaking wet. His owner will not be there to give him a bath anymore.
