The Time Key

Not on the List

Shiro approached the double doors of the government building; he flashed his fake ID at the awaiting guards and attempted to push his way in.

"Halt." One man with a machine gun blocked his path. "You are not on the list."

"What list?" Shiro argued. "Nobody said fuck all about a list. They assigned me to the conference guard."

"Highly doubtful." The young man gave Shiro the once over. "Director Faust left us detailed instructions. You, sir, will be stationed in the audience and will report if anything amiss." He handed Shiro a walkie-talkie. "You are team B."

"But I thought I was part of Faust's guard?"

"Sorry, I'm afraid not," The man became increasingly annoyed. "Besides, old-timer, what good would you be in a fight?"

Shiro sighed. It was hard to argue his point. His old man disguise worked against him.

"Fine, but if you need me--" He turned to leave. "Call-"

"Yeah, that's right," The man joked. "Don't call us, we'll call you."

Shiro paused, clenching his fists.

"You know what?" Shiro rounded back on the man. "You're a real fucking dickhead. I was like you once. It didn't do me any favours."

"What did you say?" The guard threatened. "Did you just call me a dickhead!?"

"I did." Shiro grinned as he walked away. "Then, one day, you'll be an old dickhead, and you'll wind up alone."

"Hey!" The guard shouted at the retreating older man. "Fuck you, grandpa!"

"Yep..." Shiro sighed, considering his life thus far. "Fuck me..."

Shiro went through the crowd of government types milling into the building. After showing his badge at the door, Shiro slid his revolver through the metal detector. Once approved, he rearmed and joined the exorcist reserve guard. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a flash of brilliant magenta-red within the sea of black-clad exorcists.

"Shura! Wait!" He shouted urgently. "You gotta a minute?"

"No, she ain't got a minute." One of Mephisto's hired thugs stepped before him, shoving Shiro's chest. "She's too important for the likes of you."

"Stand down, asshole," Shura ordered. "I know him."

The ninja roughly grabbed the old exorcist by the scruff of his jacket and dragged him up the hall. Once they were out of sight, they ducked into an empty office.

"What are you doing here, old-timer?" She questioned with exasperation. "Whaddya want?"

"It's me, Shura." He put his hands on his hips. "It's Shiro! Didn't I prove it to you yesterday?"

"Shiro's dead." She crossed her arms. "But yer a good shot, I'll give you that. Either that or full of dumb luck."

"It wasn't luck!" Shiro laughed, "My god, why won't you listen?"

"Because this could be another trick." She narrowed her brows. "And I'm sick and tired of men playing tricks!"

"Shura, You rotten brat!!" He growled. "I don't have time for this!"

"Wait, what did you call me?" She challenged. "Maybe I should cut out your tongue?"

Within a split second, the ninja's black and red blade pressed firmly against Shiro's neck.

"I outrank you." Her voice was deadly calm. "And I can kill you with a flick of my wrist; tell me why I shouldn't waste you right now."

"Because you'd regret it. Not that I don't deserve it." He winced as a knife-like sharpness pricked at his flesh. "Wow, you've gotta a lot of talent; I left Rin in good hands."