Nothing But Garbage

[endless_scrolls]

Title: Nothing But Garbage
Type: Fanfic
Fandom: AU!Crossover
Character(s): Miho, Sync the Tempest, Cardinal Patrick Henry Roark; brief mentions of Van Grants
Pairing(s): Maybe a small hint of Sync/Miho
Warning(s): None.
Disclaimer: I own nothing but these words.
Note: Short ok, so I lied and randomly written fic/drabble inspired by this thread. Creative license taken to make up for the fact that I lack extensive knowledge in these particular canons. Also... first fic in a long time that didn't involve Naruto or it's characters... huh.
Dedicated to: alory_shannon Surprise~ :D

Even in the face of uncertainty, danger, and possibly death should either one of them chose to make a wrong move, he was still smirking. Then again, Sync never really gave much regard to his own life, not for as long as she had known him. And so, there should not have been my real concern on how close the tip of the wand danced over the pulse of his neck. Or the hopeful gleam in his captor's eyes as the decision was left to her for what would transpire next. If she attacked with her wand, he would certainly be killed. If she did nothing or relinquished her wand, it was likely that they both could very well die at the hands of their assailant.

"Well?" the elder wizard questioned, impatience stifling every inch of the word as it spilled from his snarling lips, "What will your decision be?"

For Miho, it should have been an easy choice. There were no standing obligations between them, nothing that placed Sync's well-fare as one of her personal responsibilities. They were classmates and Housemates, she reasoned with herself, nothing more. They weren't even friends if she were to be completely honest of the situation. The only thing that had kept them within the shame sphere of social circles was the fact that they both had been sorted into Slytherin House and were in the same year of their magical schooling.

Well... there was that, and the Pure-Blood Society.

He hadn't given much detail, or even a name -- the Pure-Blood Society was the moniker she had given them -- when he had come to her with the proposition, only the implication that they were to follow in the Dark Lord's plans to rid the world of half-blooded wizards and witches. A new generation of Death Eaters, it would seem, with Sync's father Van Grant along with a number of other prominent families of the wizarding world seated at the organization's head. But they -- or rather he -- had come to her with a chance of serving them and their cause. She had not chosen to seek them out on her own; did not even wholly agree to their beliefs and ideals of a fully magical and untainted world beyond the hidden veil that separated them from the Muggles. And so, Miho felt that she still owed them nothing.

"Put your wand down now, witch!"

However, all these reasons paled in comparison to the undeniable truth: he had saved her life.

"Relax, Roark," Sync offered, retaining a light and laxed attitude, "The girl's a mute, not death."

Gripping her own wand tightly, Miho shifted her glance from one face to the other warily, ready to strike at any moment should the opportunity present itself. The Cardinal tightened his grip around Sync and impatiently brought the young man's chin up further using the tip of his wand, trailing it dangerously closer to the vital arteries and organs connected to the boy's primary functions. Damage those and he would be as good as dead if she could not get him to a hospital in time. Because though she was somewhat loathed to admit it, Miho did want to save him, if only to return the favor he had bestowed upon her.

Cruel and self-serving as he was -- self-destructing more like, but she was not one to judge -- he had found reason and cause to save her from the hands of the Dementors when they had been sent to free the convicts from Azkaban. Probably for professionally convenient reasons. After all, he had said so himself when he had come to her with the offer: she would be a valuable tool in the Pure-Blood Society's plans. Her skills in Potions making alone would be enough to validate their decision in choosing her for their new elite organization. The Non-Verbal spell-casting was just an added bonus. But there were other abilities as well that no one knew of, even the Ministry who were always so careful about monitoring under-aged wizards and witches in their magical uses. Or even the Headmaster of the School, who were given permission and right to observe potential students before gaining or declining admittance. And she was reluctant to reveal them now, to anyone, least of all him.

But by her own code of honor and that of which was deeply rooted in the land of her birth, Miho was bound in debt and loyalty to Sync, if only on a temporary basis until she could repay his generosity. So, warily hesitant, she glanced between the two men before finally settling on a decision. And it was with great reservations that the young girl tossed away her wand, letting it clatter against the cobblestone walkway of the alley. All the while, the young girl kept her trained on the point of the other man's wand, poised and ready to react should he prove dishonorable to their agreement.

The smirk on Sync's face faded and the look he shot at her was a mix of disappointment and quiet anger. "You shouldn't be so quick to defend my life, Miho. I've served my purpose to the organization, so it's of no consequence to anyone anymore."

"I couldn't agree more, of all of you." Cardinal Roark, in a state of disdain and anger, pressed his wand harder against Sync's neck. A spark of something flashed at the tip and the younger of the two winced at what she could only suspect was a small jolt of energy or lightning burning a spot along his skin. "The ideals of this organization. You think you're so much better than the Muggles, but the truth is you're all the same, fearing something that's different than you are, persecuting them and deeming them inferior to what's considered pure and absolute."

"Personally, I don't care as long as someone's suffering," Sync commented with a sadistic sort of chuckle.

"Quiet!" Which only prompted the deranged cleric to tighten the bindings around the other boy's arms, causing the muscles in Sync's jaw to clench against the strain. "Such young, wicked children, the both of you. Van Grants might see the value in your talents, but I only see you for the filth that you truly are. And I won't stand for it any longer. Demons like you have no place in this world or any other."

At his words and the implications behind them, Miho narrowed her eyes at the tainted cleric, giving off a clear look of disdain and contained anger. Normally a calm and relatively detached individual where her emotions were concerned, there existed a handful of triggers that could and would incite a violent if not dark reaction. When the girls at the Foster Home had labeled her strange and called her names for her magical experiments, Miho had simply taken the insults with a grain of salt, all the while laying in wait for the most opportune time to exact her revenge. But even then, the young witch had demonstrated a great level of patience and tolerance. In this instance, however, Roark had taken it too far. He could speak negatively of the Pure-Blood Society all he wished. She had no thoughts or great opinions to or for them and their ideals. But to insult her and degrade her talents were crimes she could not forgive.

"Scowl at me all you wish, girl, it won't change what you are," Roark spat out, "A monster and an abomination, just like him."

And with a simple wave of his wand, it felt as if an invisible hand had reached across the distance between them to strike her across the face, though it had seemed much more painful than a simple blow. But instead of an imprint of a hand across the girl's cheek, when Miho turned to face them again there was what could only be described as teeth marks. And they were bleeding.

She suspected that was what the stings were from. Simple slaps were hardly as as lingering, even magical ones. But it was only in reaching up and feeling the tenderness as well as the wet warmth of her own blood that suspicion became reality. -- "Now allow me to cleanse you of your sin," the Cardinal said with a lick of his lips, teeth already stained red from another source. A once living source. -- And Miho responded in kind.

Smearing the blood across her cheek and painting her fingers crimson red with it, the young witch stretched out her hand to them, though her eyes were focused on the sinful cleric while the spell instantly took effect. Even from where he stood, Miho could see the man's muscles stiffen, the expression across his face melting from a diabolical sneer into undeniable panic. Into absolute fear. -- "W-what are you doing?" -- A slight curl of her fingers brought a choking sound from his throat, prompting the Cardinal to release his grip on both Sync and his wand to scratch and claw at the invisible hand pressing against his neck. Normally a calm and collected individual, the man had taken it one step too far, snapping that last thread of tolerance that the young Slytherin still held.

Truly, she was a ruthless testament to her House.

Miho approached slowly, only sparing her comrade a brief glance before returning her cold eyes back to the suffering man. And with each step she took, her hand continued to curl tighter in a vice-like grip, thoroughly cutting off the elder wizard's air supply, forcing him down on his knees in defeat. Then came time to make a decision: to let him live or die by her hands. A death would surely throw up alarms and assure a tighter security system for the Ministry and all it's branches, which would make it much harder to break into Azkaban again. But Cardinal Roark had already seen their faces and learned their names. To let him live would be to mark them as traitors, reserving a space behind the very walls they sought to infiltrate. With little hope of escaping.

"Do you possess it, Miho?" she could hear Sync's voice whisper in her ear. Although, whether he actually spoke was unclear. After all, a soul is known to hear many things when holding another's life in their hands. Miho was no exception, talented witch, or not. "Do you have the strength to do what is necessary?"

Eyes trained on the man's paling face, the young witch gave a slow blink and refocused her eyes to the task that was set before her. The choice was clear from the beginning, she knew. She realized. And with that revelation setting in -- with her quiet and playfully sadistic nature reaching its limit -- the young girl ended it with a quick twist of her wrist and a resounding snap of the Cardinal's neck, never flinching nor hesitating in the decision. Never showing any sort of emotion supporting or opposing her choice. Miho had been sure. Because while alarms and securities could be bypassed with time and careful planning, there had only been one man in the whole history of Azkaban that managed to escape while imprisoned inside. The Cardinal's death had been necessary.

Her senses prickled at the other's passing shadow along the far wall, at the feel of his body heat and aura drawing near. Only a few inches away, she determined. Her thoughts and instincts were confirmed when a warm exhale of air brushed across the skin of her neck, just below the bottom curve of her ear. Her skin tingled at the contrasting sensation of the chilly air that always passed through Knockturn Alley and the smolder of his breath, sending the girl's heart racing just a half-beat faster, leaving Miho confused and wondering as to the reasons behind such a reaction. But one thing was for certain. It might have been some phantom ghost of her imagination before when she had heard his voice, but there was no mistaking the reality of Sync's presence now.

"Non-verbal and wandless magic," he mused, sounding rather pleased, at least by his standards, "...I knew there was a reason why I liked you."