Page 76 of Natural-Born Cullers

Calm. Gray seriously needed some calm around here, for everyone concerned.

He eased to his feet and covered the rest of the distance to the summerhouse.

He’d given Light and Simon space, needing things to ease back into some calm for them after the MC, back into some routine with Light’s studies. From the CCTV, Light’s walk around the summerhouse over the past two days had been restless, as if he searched for something… someone to share the troubles going on in his head, and he’d looked so lonely because of it.

Gray had given Simon his dues. Despite the hits off the staff to his hands, how painful it seemed to make working at his laptop, he’d still gone back in and offered Light a… hot chocolate. Light’s reaction was odd… quiet, but he’d eventually taken the drink. Maybe having Simon walk away after they fought had hit a note in Light, enough to make him pause, think… try and find a way to stop the fight. Or maybe it was down to the MC, coming face-to-face with Raif.

Gray didn’t know, so he’d given them both space to try and find some peace between them, even if it did fall back into silence and occasional looks off Light that tried to sort out the whys, the where of the deal Simon had done with the cullers. Simon stayed in his own quiet, maybe hoping Light would find a way into his voice to ask. Simon had his own reasons, just as Gray did.

Gray pushed on through to the summerhouse, and a look came his way off Simon as he sat at the table, eating his dinner and multitasking by working on his laptop. Gray got a nod, then Simon flicked his head towards the kitchen.

Light stood resting against a unit, dinner plate in hand as he ate, and for a moment, as a look came Gray’s way, Gray stilled.

The silver blond to his hair highlighted all the life and texture of his rich brown eyes, all the warmth and call of home he unconsciously held in the depths. He’d cut his hair shorter too. Gone were the long rowdy rocker curls that ran past his shoulders that had belonged more to Gwyn. Now it played to shoulder-length, long enough to call how it was still Light with the change, yet not in the same breath.

Change… change could be good for the soul, but Gray couldn’t quite leave behind how it always brought out the bad along with it too.

Light’s look at Gray was as long and as untrustworthy as he eased his dinner plate down. Gray didn’t hold it against him, not as he avoided Gray’s gaze a moment later and pushed his plate away before heading towards his bedroom.

“Light.”

He looked back as Gray went over to the kitchen. “Lessons resume in the morning with me before work,” Gray said to him. “We’re still up for that, right?”

Light looked down at the dinner plate, then back up at Gray. His hair covered his ear, and a tug of hurt pulled at Gray. He didn’t regret doing it, not when it came down to Light. Light was a visual learner, always had been, where only a hard-and-fast picture put him in the scene, reacting to instinct when he was having difficulty feeling his way through things. And he’d needed Light to see there were no games and get-out clauses at this level. You either lived to make it home or you didn’t. And Gray needed Light to make it back home.

But it came at a price: a nick at Light’s ear that would scar, enough so he would have had to have covered the damage again before he’d attempted mixing the composition for his hair.

Normality mixed with the… wrongs done in life.

“Yeah,” Light said quietly, and Simon glanced over. “Seems we’re still up for that.”

Gray nodded but didn’t push it any more. A truce he could deal with. He could build on.

As Light left, Gray took Light’s plate over to the table.

“How’s Jan doing?” Simon whispered quietly as Gray stopped by him.

“Not too good. Missing Jack in the mix.” Gray handed Simon his phone.

Giving a frown, Simon took it off him and scanned the file Gray had opened up. A list of names sat on there, along with a note off Gray.

Rethink the Controller, rethink someone with a history of knowing when and where to find killers, only instead of culling them because he’s older and out of the game, he gets them working for him in the Red Room. Rethink how he’d know about using memetic kill agents to keep files confidential but now had enough time on his hands to run the event.

That was what had been bothering him about all of this. The Controller had to be someone with the high level of skill to control the field of play.

Simon’s cock of brow called it out.

Ex-culler.

Trainee or otherwise, an ex-culler could be the one taking money from punters and killers alike to live out his own sickness. It would also fit an ex-culler’s profile more than an active one. A trainee would be too closely watched and monitored.

Find out from my files who has the best profile fit for these kind of Red Room mind games. Focus on those with a computer background or the aptitude to pick it up.It was what had niggled under Gray’s skin as he’d reviewed memetic kill agents. MI5 and 6 used them to protect classified documents, so it wouldn’t be a far leap for a culler to take that from their training and protect what they were doing after they left service. Because all of this did come with a feel of personal drive, thrill, and intense planning. Most cullers didn’t get to retire, either staying long enough to be killed on the job or because they’d outlived usefulness. Or that was the theory. End of service didn’t mean end of… instinct.

And if Blood Eagle was slowly starting to call the Controller out, get at him, expose him… that threatened the cullers as a whole.

Simon could handle Blood Eagle, but if the Red Room games came from one of his own, the Controller was Gray’s.

Simon nodded, then typed something on his phone, keeping the comm unspoken.

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