Previously, our protagonists John and Aaron were involved in a fight on a train to Brinston, a small town with many mines, to buy certain stones. Wanting to rest after the difficulties, in a mansion inn, they were involved in a murder case. After John had finally come to figure out who the murderer was, the two young men were locked inside the room of the deceased.

"Mr. Sterling, I am afraid that this is as far as you go," a silent but familiar voice rang from the other side of the door. "My apologies, but I will have to make sure your thoughts will forever stay with you."

A metallic scratching sound could be heard from the other side of the door and right afterwards a sizzling became noticeable. From beneath the door a small flexible pipe was inserted from which a white-gray cloud had arisen.

Aaron wanted to open up the windows, but the gaseous substance filled up the room quickly, blocking the way to the windows, forcing them to squeeze in a corner.

John was debating what this gas was, since he had a plan in mind but didn't want it to be explosive or poisonous, however Aaron looked at the glass panes and pointed at them with his finger.

"That's!" The blonde haired detective mumbled and drew his sword.

"Stay here and wait for it to vanish, I will go hunt down that prick!"

"Wait John you know what this is right? You are going to get hurt!"

His friend grinned and let out a faint laugh. "It's not that high yet. Plus I have an idea."

His black haired partner looked at him with confusion, not being used to John using his head, or rather having a plan.

The detective stepped forward and weaved his sword, from the left to the right and back and forth, and quickly increased the speed of his swing. The sword cut through the air and the current, created by it, pulled the white gas aside, creating a narrow path for John to take. He continued towards the door and smashed it in with two steam propulsion cuts. Per button press, high pressure steam from a tank was allowed to flow through the tube system on the back of the sword. The pressure released though holes within the tubes would thrust the blade with high speed and force.

As he broke through the door the tube beneath it was no longer held in place and started flailing around releasing a cloud of gas. By looking at the flexible pipe he noticed that the pipes, built into the walls of the mansion were tapped, to be specific the steam heating pipe. He figured out before that the gas was steam, due to the condensation water on the glass panes before.

Behind the cloud of steam John saw a dark shadow of a person, he could hear a disappointed sigh but the flailing of the tube together with the sound of steam rushing out, made it difficult to confirm.

"Hey you! Stay there! You are arrested!" John yelled, trying to be heard over the other sounds, however the person on the other side of the cloud didn't think of coming with the detective. Loud running steps could be heard as the shadow became smaller.

"Damn it! Of course he wouldn't just stay... Aaron please wait here until the steam stops running, it shouldn't take much longer until the tank is empty."

Despite knowing that John would be safe, Aaron didn't like the idea of just being left behind.

"Fine... Go on ahead, I will run to the police station and get you backup!" He yelled through the room, after which his friend cut through the steam cloud to pursue the suspect.

The chase went on through the hallway on the second floor, all he could see was the back of a black cloak made of rugged cloth covering the entire body. Noticing how long the hallway actually is, John began to doubt his ability to continue the pursue, since he didn't have any breakfast yet and felt his stamina quickly running low.

Eventually they reached the end of a corner in the hallway, they went in a circle since he could make out the outlines of the railing bordering off the second floors stairway with the first floor. The cloaked person was much faster than he was, thus he was the first to reach the end of the hallway. However instead of taking the stairs the person jumped off the railing by supporting himself with one arm and doing a salto midair.

This sight made John stop for a moment, catching his breath as he raised his right eyebrow and thinking to himself. "Wha... That wasn't half bad..."

Having confidence that he could do that too, he jumped holding his sword ready, but wasn't able to do a salto and just fell straight down.

Meanwhile the cloaked man turned around as his pursuer had just jumped off of the railing. He held out his right hand, with a black glove and a metal box on the back of the hand. As he was facing the spot where John would land, while at first his fingers were stretched out he quickly formed a fist, suddenly a familiar whistle reached John's ears making him weary of what would soon happen. With the whistle, three long blades protracted from the metal box creating what represented claws.

Nearly before John landed, the person ran swiftly towards him and a high pitched hiss sounded and out of three thruster like parts on the end opposite to the blades, pressurized steam shot out creating a strong propulsion as he attacked John who was just about to touch ground. The increased speed and thus power of the strike pushed the detective back, who was barely able to block the attack with his sword.

The young man, with his sterling silver badge on his coat, let out a slight noise of pain. This rough fall strained his right leg, thus he knew that he had to change to a more defensive fighting style. He held his sword protectively horizontally, blade facing down, in front of him.

The clawed enemy however noticed his opportunity and followed up with an attack of the now protracted left hand claws, again using steam propulsion. Now knowing the power of the strike, John skilfully used the force of the claws against him by slightly touching them with his sword, thus redirecting them, allowing the swordsman to face the blade towards the person and did a swift cut using his own steam propulsion system. However the enemy was able to dodge fast enough to prevent taking physical damage but despite that, John achieved his goal.

The cloak was cut through, letting it drop down revealing the person below in an armless shirt, wearing black, baggy, cotton trousers and cloth shoes. Seeing the shiny black hair made John smirk.

"So it really was you, huh? ...Mr. Servant?"

Indeed before him stood the very young looking servant of the household, with his black, glossy hair, brown eyes and pale skin.

Retracting the claws, the black haired boy shrugged his, athletic shoulders.

"My, good work figuring it out. I tried to leave you as good as no clues and the few clues you have should be the alibis. However instead of the maid, you somehow knew it was me... How?"

"Well, I wasn't completely sure back then, but you confirmed my idea. Especially now that the ceiling light is right above you."

The boy confusedly looked up and saw the gas lamp chandelier hanging above him and then looked at John again, with a clueless expression.

"I don't understand what you mean."

"I mean the glossy shine of your hair... I noticed it a while ago, but I didn't think much of it. However, no hair I have ever seen can create such a bright shine and I remembered it when I found those white hairs in the room of the victim."

"Oh, I see now. Hmm I must have not been careful enough. Well I guess I can get rid of this thing now."

As the boy finished his sentence, he pulled at his hair with his right hand, dragging it off his head, revealing the unkempt, snow white hair underneath. John's eyes opened wide, he thought of this outcome but actually seeing it surprised him.

"While we are at it, I might as well remove these as well."

Using his left hand the poked at his eyes, pulling off something which John could barely see. After he did that, he faced his enemy with his eyes closed, and quickly opened them, blinking a little since his eyes were still irritated.

"What the! Those are... You are... an albino?"

White hair, pale skin and the crimson red eyes of the boy even reached beyond his imagination. He never thought that the killer would be an albino.

They are rare, and usually also referred to as demons or children of misfortune due to their looks. Some even used them as attractions on circuses, treating them like animals. This cruel behaviour of society scarred their lives forever. John knew this from old stories at the orphanage but he never imagined to see one in person.

"Indeed, I am an albino. Go ahead, curse me all you want, it won't change me."

While the boy made fun of himself with a grin on his face, John just had a sad look, caught in thoughts.

"Why... why would he kill someone. What happened to make him do that. And why does he fight... I don't understand..."

He then translated his thoughts into words calling out to the red eyed killer.

"Why? What was your reason for killing that man? Tell me..."

John did not understand his feelings, he knew he shouldn't care but something within him made him want to dig deeper into the past of the child. However this feeling wasn't shared by the actual receiver who looked angrily as he heard the question.

"Why would you care, huh? I am a killer and you are my enemy, so mind your own business and fight me!"

With that statement, he protracted the claws immediately and rushed at John, who was still deep in thought but just before the actual attack, he was able to defend the strike from the right. The boy grinned, and used steam propulsion on his left claw, having noticed that his enemy just left himself wide open.

He tried to dodge the attack by stepping back but the pain in his right leg made him tilt sideways. Due to that, surprisingly he was able to avoid fatal damage to his arm, but the claw grazed and slightly cut into his right shoulder.

With a high pitched whistle, the sword cut towards the clawed kid. Despite having had the chance to land a lethal blow, he chose to merely create a gap between them, forcing the boy to back up.

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"Tell me why, why do you fight?"

John spoke without thinking, he had no more control over his mind. He believed to already know the answer, but wanted to know if he was right, having a strong sense to seek confirmation.

The crimson eyed fighter got annoyed and irritated by that question and yelled.

"If you really want to know, then come follow me, I believe many people deserve this answer."

Retracting his claws, he fled towards the main hall, where the guests were supposed to wait at.

"Wait up! Argh..." The swordsman wanted to run after him, but his leg didn't share that thought, making him have to limp over to the hall.

The door was left open by the young kid allowing John to simply walk, or rather limp inside. As he expected, everyone was scared so they distanced themselves from the pale boy in the middle of the hall, who was waiting for John to enter. Everyone was already mumbling and whispering amongst each other, talking about the killer behind his back.

He stood there, in the middle of the room, with his crimson red eyes looking like they were glowing in anger, however this was just John's imagination, since in reality it was just the bright lighting of the room.

"Since you asked so many times, I might as well tell you. However, I don't just have to tell you, because I can show you too!"

He held his hand out, referring to the people in the room. As he spoke, the voice made the people recognize his identity but instead of speaking out, they just kept whispering among themselves.

"To answer your question, I will have to tell you a pretty long story, however I'll try to keep it short."

As he began his speech, John rested against the wall, trying to make the pain in his leg go away, whilst also holding his shoulder which was cut in the earlier attack.

"Ever since I could remember, my parents were religious so my existence was like a contradiction for them. Demon child, they called me, Child of Misfortune, they called me... they cursed me for my hideous looks, and because of that they sent me to an orphanage, just dropping me off as a small child..."

This reminded John of his own past, just that he never knew his parents, as his eyes sunk to the ground just imagining the situation, the feeling of being neglected by your very own parents.

"The orphanage was great, they treated me as their equal, no special treatment at all. The nuns were even nice enough to teach all of us some elementary school knowledge. We were like a happy little family. However..."

He couldn't tell for certain, but John saw tears building up in the boys eyes. In order to not show his weakness he closed them and shook his head, continuing his explanation.

"The orphanage didn't have much support. In fact there was only one man, a jewellery trader, who sponsored us. However he eventually decided that we cost too much and thus cut the communication. My family, my new home in which I was finally treated like a human being... it all went to ruins. We were forced to become street thieves to survive but the sickness took most of us. Eventually the few survivors split up, having obtained the chance to change their lives. I was taught by a clock engineer, and worked as his assistant for a while until that man, that damned man showed up... He ordered a clock, with inset jewels, which he would provide. I couldn't believe it, he who had forsaken us because we weren't worth it... he ordered a clock with jewels?"

He formed a fist and smashed it onto a nearby table, however the claws seemed to have extended. Through this outbreak, the whispering and mumbling throughout the room stopped. It was dead silent, one could only hear the heavy breathing of the young boy.

"I wanted him to pay, not with money, but with his life. Because of him... my family died, my home was gone. All because he preferred to spend his money on living rich rather than sharing with the poor. I already knew the basics of engineering and steamworks from the master at the clock shop, so it was easy for me to build this."

He held up his right hand with the extended claws, by holding it so high up John was able to notice a small pipe running from the Claws mechanical box, towards the persons hip. On both sides were big round objects, wrapped in black cloth.

"Even the master couldn't bare to look at me, so he bought me this cheap wig and these eye contacts. Not even the man who was willing to teach me, was able to look at my true face. Soon I left the place and did research on the man who was responsible for all this and I found out that he comes here every so often for a business trip. So I decided to work here as a servant. Obviously I had to cover my true identity with the wig and contacts, but as cursed as I may be, I never expected to be hated so much by my fate. It was typical that, on the one day I wanted to take my revenge, you had to show up with your friend. Of course it had to be you, the great detective Sterling."

"But even though you knew I was here, you didn't change your plan?"

A thought was accidentally spoken out, by the young man leaning against the wall.

"I had nothing to lose, I don't care if you kill me or arrest me. I honestly don't."

John lifted his head and spoke in a lecturing way.

"You may say so, but I doubt you will actually behave that way."

Those words were like fuel on a small fire for the boy. He stood straight and walked over to John with his eyes drilling right through him. The light steps, sounded like the splashing of water drops falling into a pond.

"You have no idea of how much I had to go through, you would never be able to know my pain...," the grinding of his teeth made John weary, preparing to defend himself. "You are a detective, on top of that the youngest detective in this country! Somebody like you could never comprehend my pain, so stop lecturing me already!"

"You are right, I can't possibly know your pain. But I know my pain, and I can imagine how much more of it you must have felt. I may not know, but I can at least understand..."

Having stopped moving, the red eyes stared at John's dark green eyes with a confused look. At that moment, Aaron entered the room but stood there silently, feeling the tension of the situation. John noticed him, and also knew that he had likely already asked the police for backup.

"I too was an orphan but unlike you, I never knew my parents. However I didn't need them, my new family consisted of the people there, and our father took care of us. He was a religious father, and also quite the old geezer, it has been so long I don't even remember his age anymore. Anyway, some day a certain group of people came and tried to take him away from us. However he fought to continue protecting us and was.... he was..."

Down his eyes, a singular tear ran down his cheeks, falling to the ground. After wiping his face off, he continued.

"He was killed.... From that point on, my life was a life on the streets. However, life is too kind to use, it was more like a constant fight against famine. Eventually most of them... left me and a kind mechanic scratched me off the streets and taught me everything I needed to know to build this sword."

"So then you are like me, you built that sword to take revenge for that father."

"No, I didn't. Well, actually, the thought did cross my mind at first. But you see, our father was a detective in his prime. So his voice rang through my head, telling me that revenge just brings more suffering. He had told us many of his stories as bedtime stories, and sometimes they consisted of some unfortunate person falling for revenge. Revenge is no pretty thing, you become the thing you worked so hard for to destroy making it a contradiction in itself, so instead I decided I want to find the one responsible and give him his rightful punishment."

Aaron could not believe what he heard, he had been with John for a few months now, but he never got to know about his past. And just now, per chance, he heard a story which he wished that he would never have heard.

"I want to put him to jail and by doing it the same way as father would have done it. That is why I became a detective, it was difficult and I still can barely believe I achieved my first goal."

"Shut...up...., Shut up, Shut up!"

The boy yelled loudly in anger as he was seemingly fighting with his emotions, realizing that he may have done a mistake but by shaking his head, with his unkempt, white hair, he began getting closer to John again. Protracting his claws, he looked into his opponents face, as if to etch the image into his mind.

Making a sudden move, he struck at John who parried the attack but the rapid barrage of attacks did not stop that quickly. Clashing blades and the hissing sound of steam echoed throughout the large hall.

Despite having so much room, John was still facing with his back to the wall and was slowly pushed into a position where he would find himself unable to have free movement. Knowing he needed more space, he tried to wait for an opening in order to make a swift step around his enemy, however his leg still was not healed, and the cut on his shoulder was unable to close due to the constant movement, causing some blood to run down his arm.

He was close to reaching the wall, but finally noticed an opening. The attacks were mainly focused towards his right side, because the kid wanted to give him no time to rest his leg. He parried one strike, and two strikes which where both aimed at his right, allowing John to step left and quickly turn behind the claw fighter. His leg could not withstand this sudden movement however and the pain increased.

"Why do you still fight like this? You should be stronger than that, and yet you still decide to not oppose me...Why?"

He starts getting teary, shiny eyes which is a sign for John, that this child isn't just a killer, he has feelings, feelings of regret.

"Why?!"

He shouts and keeps up the barrage of attacks which have become more difficult to defend, or rather his wounded opponent has started to have difficulties blocking them. He was merely able to redirect them, but the strikes still cut into his shoulders, legs, and waist, with each hit making it more and more painful to move.

Eventually the white haired boy was exhausted and just stood still, trying to catch his breath. Meanwhile John stuck his sword into the floor to lean onto it. If someone looked at him, with his torn clothing and cuts all over his body with his blood stained clothes, they would think that he fought some wild animal..

"Why...why do you still refuse to fight?"

From his watery red eyes, tears began to flow down his pale cheeks, running past his quivering lips and finally dropping down, tear by tear onto the floor.

"It's because I understand your rage, your hatred and your pain but I cannot forgive you for your actions. Nobody can, nobody besides you... I will keep this up until you finally understand yourself. And if I should die, well... I guess I was wrong, but at least I know someone up there who would be proud of my attempt..."

With the small strength he had left, John answered the question as he stared into the boys crying eyes. Aaron however, who was watching and waited for the police to arrive, was confused but also proud. He usually only saw his partner cut away at his enemies but it was different this time. He saw his usually impulsive, merciless friend try to put a misguided poor child back onto the right path. However he couldn't stand seeing him suffer this much, even if it was for such a good deed.

With his tears, the boy turned around and slowly walked away while the barely standing John, who was leaning onto his sword, watched his back. Yet, after a few steps the white haired boy turned around, protracting his right claws and ran over to John, without using the steam system. While the wounded young man just stood there with his still caring expression. He aimed right at his head.

"John! No!"

Aaron screamed with all his might, before he turned around, closing his eyes so that he wouldn't have to witness the cruel scene.

After a metallic scratching sound, followed by a strong hiss, a drop of blood ran down John's forehead from where the middle claw connected. It ran past his eyes, splitting up at the nose and flowing along the sides. Running down his lightly tanned cheeks and reaching his chin, where it eventually dropped down into his small pool of blood.

"I win..."

These silent but clear words came out from John's smirking mouth.

Aaron heard the voice and decided to carefully open his eyes, and saw John and the boy standing. Despite the attack, the former hasn't moved an inch, while the boys middle claw, which was longer than the other two, stuck in his forehead. What he saw was that John is alive, the claw had merely pierced the skin but not his skull. While his sword stuck inside an object on the boy's waist.

The boy was surprised, the object on his waist was a pressured steam tank, which would power his claws. John had carefully aimed to cut it open, instead of actually hurting the boy. Now that the tank was damaged, the claws began to slowly retract due to the decreased pressure, leaving the child unarmed.

"You are right, you win..."

Knowing that John had not only put his full trust in him, but also disarmed him, he admitted defeat and stepped back. The police finally came, asking who to arrest and as Aaron pointed towards the boy, he quickly ran and broke through a window.

"Wait....up..."

Having the desire to follow him, John limped towards the window but Aaron quickly ran over to his injured friend.

"Stop it John! You are in no condition to continue this! You have lost too much blood already... Any moment and you could---"

As expected John dropped onto the floor. By trying to push himself up he merely slipped and hit the floor again. The blood he lost had already created a pool around him.

"How come? I am a doctor, I worked as a military doctor and yet... and yet... I freeze up now? I know I need to help him... but my body will not move..."

Aarons thoughts run wild as he stands next to his friend who was laying in blood trying to inch forward with his arms. He tried to create a sound, to have a voice, but only a faint breath came out of his mouth.

Eventually John stopped moving, he was out of power, the pool got larger and his lips already turned dark blue with his skin as pale as the boys. As he looked around, his thoughts were the only working process.

"I cannot move... my body won't move the way I want it to.... My vision... is turning blurry...

Is this...? Is this all my blood?.... Incredible! I never thought I had so much....

I feel cold... but also warm...

really... warm...

nice...

and...

warm..."