Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction / Noir Fan Fiction ❯ There Can Be Only Two ❯ Ending I: No man's land ( Chapter 5 )

Disclaimer: This is the End, the end my friend. At least on of them, the first to be released and still without the direct permission of the respective creators of the characters used in this piece of fanficion.

 

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Ending I: No man's land

 

Crawford had returned to the main street and was waiting for her under a nearby streetlight when the blond woman stepped out of the door, carrying the sealed bouquet with her. A short leather jacket, tight fitting and matching her skirt in color and style, now hid her red tunic and protected her from the cold February night.

No one spoke a word and no one needed to, eyes saying all that was to be said. Together they walked off through the silent streets. Side by side as if tied to one another, yet distant and on their own, separated by something spanning more than the few centimeters of air between them.

Past seemingly endless rows of vending machines and parked cars, an illusion of walking on endless conveyer belts never to reach a destination, always to see the same, again and again. Maybe they wished this walk to last forever, to go on and on, never changing from day to day, boring but steady. But it had to end.

All too soon a small park had replaced the never changing cars and streetlights. A dark corner within the glowing metropolis that was Tokyo. Protected by old big, almost menacing trees, and tall hedges, concealing the little lake in the center of the park - a small body of water lined with plum trees in early bloom already proving that winter was almost over. But until late spring night frost could always return and destroy the small precious blossoms.

In broad daylight this might have been a pleasant, even beautiful place, where children played and young lovers happily strode together on their first date. But here on this starless night it was a lonesome desperate place. They stopped at the shore - the lawn separated from the water by a thin evenly stone block - each staring at dark fluid.

“Is this where it ends?” She asked quiet and melancholy .

“I suppose so.” He stated equally thoughtful.

Absently yet carefully she unwrapped the bouquet letting the white wrapping paper drift away in the wind. Two of the flower she removed from the bouquet, the rest she placed carefully on the ground.

“Yellow Roses? For old times' sake? Did you expected me to…” her voice was quite as she fastened the one of the blossoms at his suit over his heart.

“Well, one should never loose hope, isn't it?” he answered equally quiet, taking the other rose from her and also fastening it to her jacket.

“In retro perspective lilies would have been more appropriate, wouldn't they have been?”

 

He turned away from her. She did the same:

 

“You know the way this business works! You also know me. You of all the people should have known that it would end this way. But you did come anyway.”

“Perhaps I knew, but the future never was set in stone. This was but one possibility and with humans, with…emotions, possibilities are hard to predict.”

“What about your friends - if they are your friends - have you told them anything? Would they understand why we are doing this?”

“The same I could ask about you and the girl. She was not with you back than. But no. Even though they are very close friends indeed I have not told them. I could not. This is a matter apart from them. This is between you and me only. And I doubt they would understand it.”

 

They stood there back to back, white wool against black leather, black and blonde, yet in the end only dark and dark, black and black Noir and Schwarz. Slowly they reached for their guns.

 

“You should not have come here, you should have left the moment you received that envelope.”

“You as well Mireille, there are not that many Brad Crawfords out there. You did not need to come to Tokyo, nor did you have to play this game with me. Another Brad Crawford might have traveled a different road, but not me. Perhaps another Mireille Bouquet, too, might have decided on another course of action.”

 

She only nodded in agreement even though he could not see her. Slowly they separated. She sighted:

 

“There is nothing that could have been done about it. It was not meant to be.”

 

Another step was taken by each.

 

“You know, I have a friend that would probably accepted this simply on the pretence that we are only killers and thus is our fate. To be slain by each other.”

 

And another step.

 

“Are we, Brad? Is this what heartless indifferent killers would be doing?”

And another.

 

“Maybe, maybe not. But it doesn't matter. It was a wonderful evening. I was wonderful meeting you again.”

 

Separated by three meters they stopped.

 

“You, too, Brad. Do you think there will be a better next.

 

“I hope there is.”

 

“Good bye Brad!”

 

“Good bye Mireille!”

 

Two shots rang through night as one in a cacophony of pain. In the silver rays of moonlight that broke through the clouds the petals of two yellow roses slowly sank to the ground.

 

*

 

The streets apart from the major transport routes and shopping streets were dimly lit and even less traveled this time of the night. Nobody to disturb the hunt that had been cutting through the area for quite some time now. A hunt between a red headed foreigner in a white leisure suit and a young Japanese girl clad only in pajamas, both sporting guns. Bullets were exchanged hitting walls, fences, lamp poles, missing their intended targets by mere millimeters.

The roles of hunter and prey, though, were not clearly assigned.

 

An ignorant mind probably would have suspected the foreigner to be the perpetrator and the girl to be the victim, a constellation that might have had been true in the beginning.

 

A master of the martial arts might have had another opinion, being concerned with another aspect: He could have marveled at the sheer inhuman abilities of the two to move and to fight, like jumping over the low walls of suburban homes while blindly shooting backwards and yet forcing the other party to doge a near hit while at the same time avoiding an equally accurate bullet heading for their vital parts. And they were fast, very fast.

 

Yet a true master of another art, above anything else, would have been astounded by the prowess both girl and man showed in the particular skill of hunting, the art of trying to be undetected in one, and fast and aggressive the next moment. A master of the art of hunting though still would have had problems to determine whether the girl was luring the man, pretending weakness as the bait and only in the most subtle manner, or if the man was indeed in absolute control of every move of his victim, leaving her only the impression of a free will and hope for a chances to escape. If escape was what she wanted, or wasn't it?

 

`Four, second magazine' Schuldig counted another bullet passing by his ear. `Seems like the damn brat thought to bring some ammunition and obviously does know how to use them wisely. On the other hand…hey what am I complaining about. Best thrill I had in a while!'

 

He stopped at another corner. At the moment the girl was again out of his mental reach and he had to rely on other means to locate her. In the distance he could hear noises of people that had been awakened by gunshots ringing through their neighborhood. But since the origin had since moved on quickly, this part of town was still asleep and unaware of the events outside their front doors. Yet he could hear no tell tale sounds from the girl either. Be it running, breathing, reloading. Carefully he took a quick look around the corner. Nothing there. It was a dead end. Though instead of another building at the end of the short alignment of family homes, there was a playground surrounded by a low decorative wall in a classical Japanese style blending in with the medieval theme of the playground.

Quickly he moved into the alley, along the row of houses, making absolutely no sound to give away his presence to his unseen prey. And then he could feel her again. Again he knew her position. Her remarkable state of mind could only let him guess that she was waiting for a noise from him, waiting to come out and shoot him. But he would not give her that. He had loved hide and seek when he was young, even though for him it had been more fun with seek than hide. For a moment the playground setting let nostalgic feelings rise up in his mind - feelings a long time not felt, but he quickly pushed them aside.

The present was now. And now he was close to finishing this long yet entertaining game. He almost felt a little reluctant to do so.

Still inaudible he crouched behind the low wall outside the playground. He could feel her behind the perhaps 1 meter high obstacle, doing the same, still unaware of his presence, waiting for a cue an indicator where to expect him from, a warning that would never come. At least not in way useful for her:

 

“Long time no see! How has it been going? Are your little feet hurting from running around without shoes and all?” Scare her he did not. At least in no way he could tell. There hadn't been a single noise from the other side indicating that the voice in her head had had any effect at all. “My, my, aren't you a tough little girl. The big bad telepath is coming to get you and you are not even crying for….you are not crying.”

For a moment he wondered why a derogative reference to her parents had seemed to be strangely inappropriate, but continued never the less:

“Oh. Well I guess it was nice playing with you and all, but it has to end. And slowly it's getting boring. Don't you agree?” He got no answer.

“Its all repeating. I mean here again we are sitting back to…”

 

Realizing his mistake he jumped up spinning around at the same time. In slow-motion he could see her hair coming up from behind the wall as well, slowly followed by her eyes. Those big reddish-brown eyes that Nagi must have seen in the last moments of his life, big longing eyes that again stirred something inside his heart, something that was quickly forgotten.

With her upper torso also appeared her slender arms and with them the gun. He tried to bring up his own gun, noting at the same time how displaced the cold black metal looked in the hand of this small girl, clad in pink girl's pajamas.

 

Her face showed emotion for the first time: surprise. The same sort of surprise that must have been on his own. He was fast but not fast enough. She was fast but not faster. Another two shots rang through the air that night. One loud and powerful, the other silenced yet as deadly as the first.

 

As slowly as her face had come up over the rim of the wall, as slowly it disappeared again. Schuldig admired the beauty of the droplets of blood almost standing in the air as he felt the ground getting closer. Droplets of blood coming from the big hole in the girl's chest that his bullet had torn, but also blood spraying out from his own pierced heart. “Scheiße.” he thought more disappointed than angry. He hit the ground hard, yet he felt nothing of it.

 

`So this is where it really ends. Shot by a little girl.', he mused. `I have to give it to Crawford. If he had told me that it would end this way I would not have believed him.'

“Do you hear that you old bastard!”

For a last time he reached out to the companion he was so familiar with, far beyond the reach of his mind's eye. But all he got was the image of a blonde women falling to the ground followed by moon shining in the night sky and than nothing more. A moon that also shone on his own form lying there on the asphalt, wondering what his friend Brad Crawford had done to end almost the same way he did. Especially since Schuldig still could not believe the way it had happened to himself. He felt his own mind beginning to slow as the life left him, yet he really appreciate the absence of pain.

“Farf….Farfarello!” The Irish men he could still feel being alive in the distance. “Crawford is gone…..so are the French Lady and the kid….but I fear I, too,…. won't be around much longer. You are the last one.”

 

He paused. Thinking was becoming more and more difficult and breathing impossible.

“Yo Farf there is one more thing I need to tell you….something I never dared to but... I….I have loved you from the first moment I laid my eyes on you... but destiny never meant for us to be together…. good bye my love…..” moments past as he could feel Farfarello trying to process the given information. He tried to smirk: “Hey gotcha! Just joking. Don't forget your fight. I just always wanted to say something really corny while dieing. Cu around in the next life.” he finished leaving behind the mental image of his trademark grin. And than nothing more.

 

*

 

The fight on the roof was fast. Very fast, and very dangerous. Like a dance on a razor's edge, where on misstep meant an untimely death, quite literally caused by cold razor sharp steal. Power was countered with speed and dexterity with sheer inhuman viscosity. The final balance between the two dancers had not been tipped so far. But their garments bore heavy evidence of the battle en masse, as did their bodies.

 

Deep nasty cuts were visible on both opponents, drenching their clothes with own and alien blood, mingling with salty sweat. Rags of Chloe's cape were glued to her body by the red liquid of life where Farfarello's blade had cut through fabric and skin.

 

Bandages covering older scars on Farfarello's body had long ago fallen to the ground drenched in crimson as well, while his bloody T-shirt was left hanging only partly on his body. Mercy was unknown in this fight as were any rules.

 

Neither the limp left arm of the girl nor various throwing knifes penetrating the man's body at different angles and locations did prevent them from fighting with a precision and ferocity that was beyond a normal human being. Together with the silver moonlight that broke through the clouds, the gruesome scene of bloodshed on this night had turned into a horrid dance of vividly living dead.

 

Yet no one had been able to land a decisive blow up until the moment Farfarello suddenly almost stopped, giving Chloe an opening. Not a wide opening, yet a mistake not to survive against a fighter of Chloe's extraordinary level of proficiency.

 

She did not take the opportunity though. Stopping her knife in mid-swing towards his lower torso she instead jumped off to a safer distance away from him. He did not follow.

His eye still fixated on her, something else held him back, keeping him unmoving.

Waiting for the moment Chloe measured her opponent from toe to head analyzing the behavior of the Irish man standing there frozen in place, blood slowly seeping from several wounds, seemingly absent and lost in thoughts maybe.

 

After no one had moved for some time with only the unreal sound of blood and sweat dropping slowly to the ground, she finally spoke up, her voice as cold as her face, only belied by the thin trail of vapor rising from her body:

“Another person I might have killed there instantly . I don't know why you did what you did. It was not a mistake you should have made considering the skill you have shown so far. There is no meaning and no challenge in killing an incompetent opponent like that, nor one that has a death wish.” Her voice now expressing disappointment and disapproval: “I hope that will not repeat. Next time I won't hesitate. So from now on, please fight to your fullest ability. Nothing less is expected of you.”

 

A reaction she did not get right away, but finally something astray returned and Farfarello once more spoke up.

 

“Sorry,” He apologized with slightly down bent head while scratching it with his free hand, almost like a little boy speaking to his older sister, yet clearly not with the voice of one.

“It won't happen again. But before we finish this” he continued his tone slowly changing: “Maybe there is something you might be interested in. About what is going on tonight. At the moment. Do you want to hear it? Or,” He slowly brought the knife up to his head ready to strike, his eyes being reflected in the polished yet bloodstained metal. “shall we end it right away?” he finished, his voice bearing no more trace of apology or shame.

 

* [1]

 

“No apology is needed, Farfarello. But this shall end now. There is no more need for talking with a dead man! ”

“So be it!”

 

And for a final time the two clashed with each other. Perhaps with even more ferocity and determination than before. With power and agility contradicting the seemingly crucified state of their flesh. Two people dancing in the moonlight a last dance of death, while the dance floor itself got brighter and brighter with every round and every turn.

 

Every other color - had there ever been other colors on the endless gray roof up here - slowly had faded into a black and white mass. Every color but red. Color of love and life. Speaking of cruelty and silent agony. An agony that finally ended when in a final spin Chloe's blade cut through Farfarello's throat. Penetrating skin and cartilage, further into the soft flesh, opening esophagus and trachea and most prominently carotid arteries, on exit leaving a trail of crimson hanging in the air as she continued, only stopping when another blade had done the same damage to the man's abandon, leaving her back turned towards him as he slowly sank to his knees and dropped his knife.

 

Slowly the still standing girl turned around.

 

“You did not take my advise.” She said her head slowly shaking in a strange mixture of disappointment and disapproval. “I warned you not to make further mistakes and yet you did. Rather frustrating but not unexpected.”

 

She looked down on her defeated enemy kneeling in front of her while his life ran down his now bare torso. What she saw there was no fear, no hate not even disbelieve. The one-eyed man just smiled at her. A look that said that everything was OK, but a look that also ridiculed the girl. By any means not a look that should have been on the face of a man with a cut throat and fatal opening in his stomach.

 

A moment too late she realized why. Why he had be smiling afterwards at her, at her pointing out his supposed mistake and leaving her wide open in front of her enemy. In this grand finale his plan never had been to win, yet it had not been to loose either. Those thoughts went through Chloe's brain as thin metal pierced her own chest and into lung and heart. With agility and strength no dieing human should have possessed he had more stabbed than thrown the blade, her own throwing knife, into her flesh. His outstretched arm only centimeters apart from the handle of the weapon.

 

As slowly as Farfarello had done before now Chloe sank to her knees in front of him. The hand that had thrown the knife, still outstretched, touched her chin as she went down. Running over the soft skin of her left cheek, leaving a crimson trail on the white flesh before reflexively cupping her whole face as she looked him in the eyes:

 

“I guess I, too, should have listened to what Altena told me, shouldn't I have?”

He only nodded in agreement to the soft-spoken regret, no longer capable to speak himself.

“Did you intend to die. Did you want me kill you that easily.” This time he shook his head, creating effects that were best left un-described.

“No you did not. But I was too fast, an inch too deep, wasn't I? The wound on your belly you would have survived, but not the cut on your throat. You dared and you lost. As did I.” she mused and again he bend his head forward in agreement.

“This is surely an interesting turn of events. It was nice fighting with you.” Absently Chloe looked up at the sky while she could feel his hand still on her cheek:

 

“Bright moon! On a starlit night, please wash away the darkness.” were her last melancholic words.

 

And the moon did her bidding. The silvery rays illuminated the two people, as together they sank to the ground and lay there side by side in slowly growing pool of blood on this roof somewhere in Tokyo.

 

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Authors comments: Well I suppose it has started. The final countdown for this story. I hope you like this ending, even though it is really dark. But don't say I did not warn you, this is for the most part, or the most Endings a Dark story with Ending II and III also not really being happy. For that wait for Ending IV, or take a look into that tiny little alternative Ending I-b I wrote for a friendly Panda. [1] ist the point where you should start reading I-b if you think Chloe should have decided otherwise.

 

And either way. Comments desperately wanted.^^