Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Chaos Came Early ❯ Could You, Would You, On a Train? ( Chapter 12 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: KD Sarge 
Chaos came early, but Christmas was right on time.
Anime/Manga: Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Drama / Hentai | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 09.09.2006 | Pages: 2 | Words: 1.9K | Visits: 532 | Status: Work In Progress
Chaos came early, but Christmas was right on time.
Anime/Manga: Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Drama / Hentai | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 09.09.2006 | Pages: 2 | Words: 1.9K | Visits: 532 | Status: Work In Progress
chibi-darling, happy belated birthday! I’m sorry I wasn’t paying attention. I’m a bad friend.
Okay, okay, quit nagging already! ;) Here’s some more.
********
Unpredictable Schuldig most certainly was. Crawford woke on his own in the morning, not to an excited German jumping on him. When his mind caught up with the time zone and realized it had been ten hours since he saw the boys, he threw on his robe and stepped to knock on their door. No answer, they weren’t there. He knocked on Kacia’s. She answered, sleepy and tousled and looking her age and more. Crawford told her to get dressed and went to do the same, his mind racing.
Dining car. His first thought, and his sincere hope, was that they were in the dining car. Teenage boys got hungry, it hadn’t been so long that he’d forgotten that. They got tired and they got hungry, and the need for food was nearly the only thing that would drag a sleepy teen out of his bed. He did not want to think about all the myriad alternatives to the dining car. Especially as the date was guaranteed to have excited Farfarello’s obsession. He would think about that if they were not in the dining car.
Kacia still was not ready. Crawford went without her. The sooner he knew, the sooner he could plan.
The boys weren’t in the dining car, though apparently they had been. The hostess was very concerned about the orange-haired boy. After Schuldig consumed a pot of coffee, two plates of stuffed French toast with whipped cream and confectioners’ sugar and blueberry syrup, and a hot fudge sundae, she had noticed he had “the shakes.” Did the poor boy have a medical condition? Crawford should have advised the staff if...
Crawford pinched the bridge of his nose and excused himself and wished he’d found them quietly killing someone. They were peaceful after they killed.
A harried Kacia joined him, looking annoyed.
::I touched the boy toy, but he blocked me,:: she growled. ::He’s finally putting some effort into shielding.::
::Farfarello?::
::He’s focused, and not thinking bloody murder. I can’t pick him out.::
::You go forward, I’ll go back. Listen for people annoyed by Schu. He’s had enough sugar to send the Care Bears into diabetic shock.::
::Gods, pray he fell off while we were over a trestle,:: the brunette muttered as she turned away. Crawford reminded himself he did not want Schuldig to have fallen into a river. He needed Schuldig. He did. His plans would take at least ten years longer without a telepath of significant power.
Every person in the car but him sneezed.
::Crawford, he’s close to you!:: Kacia reported. ::But that’s all I got, he shielded again.::
Damn, the next car was a luggage car, and not heated. Idiot boy, the last thing Crawford needed was an undisciplined telepath with a cold...
::Go get your breakfast. I’ll deal with them.:: He ignored her sharp satisfaction as he moved between cars. An unconscious naked man next to a pile of familiar clothes directed him to what had to be the right compartment. Crawford stepped over the man.
Need to work on their assassin skills, he noted when he not only got into the compartment, he was almost on top of his team and they still hadn’t noticed him. The noise and smell of the train only partially excused it, they were being careless. As if anyone could miss the tent they’d made of someone’s oriental rug. He bent to see his team huddled under it, each with a mug of something warm beside him. Great, more caffeine. The German had apparently decided to try the uniform look, the train employee’s clothes were baggy on him. The Irish boy sat uncaring of the cold in his usual clothes, unwrapping a plain paper bundle.
“Schu-Schu!” Farf said softly as black cloth and shiny metal fell into his hand. “How did you get these?”
Oh, damn, throwing knives in a forearm sheath. Crawford had expended a lot of effort trying to keep his psycho unarmed when not on duty.
“Duh,” the wild child answered. “Telepath, remember? I borrowed a Hare Krishna three airports ago. I want to know how you got your no-Talent ass past old Glinty-Glasses to get these.”
Oh, damn. Schuldig was caressing a large box with “Cupojoe’s Gourmet Chocolate Covered Espresso Beans” on the label. Right above “10 lbs.”
“The internet,” Farfarello answered. “Do you know some believe credit cards are the number of the Beast?”
Schuldig rolled his eyes and popped a bean into his mouth. “You’d have to spend a fuck of a lot to get God’s attention that way.”
“Perhaps what matters is what I buy,” Farf responded, testing one of his new blades. Schuldig yelped.
“Stab your own shoes, bastard!”
“Herr Crawford wants me to practice my aim. If I miss and stab myself, I won’t know.”
“Blood, moron. If you’re aiming for shoe and you draw blood, you missed!”
“Right.” Farfarello tested another knife. Crawford stood and lifted the rug.
“Gentlemen,” he said, “bring your things.”
The two exchanged worried stares and clutched their treasures. Crawford turned to lead. He gathered Kacia as they passed through the dining car, and ignored her triumph at Schu in trouble. He didn’t turn at her gasp of pain, either. “Schuldig, leave her alone.”
“Ja, ja, wouldn’t want to damage the little mind, would we?”
Kacia was far better trained than Schuldig, but Crawford still felt the overflow of her response to that. “Scheisse,” Schuldig breathed, and this time Crawford’s shields rang with the edges of the unconcentrated energy. Damn, but his wild child had power! Crawford caught Kacia’s elbow as she stumbled.
“Stop, both of you.” He held on to Kacia as he opened his door, guided her to the best chair as the boys stopped in the entrance and stared. His cabin looked like a WalMart Christmas section had exploded. Crawford caught the younger boy’s eye. “Why is Christmas celebrated in December, Farfarello?”
“It was an attempt by the early church to usurp the pagan celebrations of midwinter and the solstice. It succeeded.”
“And now the birth of their Christ has been eclipsed by their own creation.” Crawford tossed the boy his elf hat, abandoned in the airport the night before. “Want to play Santa?” He gestured at the tiny tree adorned with every commercial soulless ornament the staff had been able to scare up. Farf grinned and donned his hat, adjusted the elf-ears. Crawford waved at his bed. “You can sit there, Schu. Anyone want a drink?” He lifted a bottle adorned with Santa Claus. Caffeine-free diet soda, but he didn’t need to mention that.
“Herr Crawford, do I just hand them all out?”
“Yes, and then you’ll wait. Sadism is in the spirit of the season, Farf.”
The Irish boy snorted and passed out one small present each. Crawford gestured at Kacia to start.
“I...didn’t buy any gifts,” she said softly.
“These aren’t gifts, they’re rewards for a job well done.”
“Bribes for our good behavior,” Schuldig corrected, popping another espresso bean in his mouth. Crawford only raised an eyebrow. Kacia began to carefully open her gift. Schu growled and grabbed, ripping the ribbon off as she snatched it away. “Come on, Toots, you’re holding up the line.”
The two exchanged blows again, Crawford put an end to it. Again. Kacia finished opening a diamond pendant as Schuldig stuck her sparkly green bow in his hair. He started bouncing, Crawford ignored him while Kacia admired her gift, then pointed at Farfarello. The Irish boy went even slower than Kacia, grinning at Schu’s impatience. The German tried to help, Farf flung one of his new knives. Schuldig stuck out his tongue.
“Missed me, you—“ Farf flung another. “Verdamm! Watch the jewels, asshole!” He pulled the knife from between his legs and tossed it across the compartment, but he did stop bouncing on the bed. Farfarello unwrapped a new eyepatch, with a cat-slitted glass eye free-mounted in it. Schuldig actually forgot his own present for a few minutes, admiring the “freaky-ass thing.” When the German started bouncing again, Crawford nodded to him. In less than a second, shreds of shiny reindeer paper were everywhere, and Schuldig was opening the box.
“Snakes?” he demanded. “You got me a necklace with snakes on it?”
“Symbol for Loki,” Crawford said, pouring himself coffee. “The Trickster. The red-headed Viking god of Chaos.”
“Ha!” Farfarello blurted. “You, a god?”
“Hey, I’m pretty enough, powerful enough—and goddamnit, people like me!”
“Did you get that in writing?” Kacia asked. And winced.
“Merry Christmas,” Schuldig said.
“What?”
“I didn’t hit you for nearly ten minutes.”
“Because Crawford told you to stop!”
“And I did. Merry Christmas.”
“If you two are done,” Crawford lifted his cup, “you might check your compartments for bulkier...bribes.” The boys got stuck in the door, trying to get through it at the same time. Kacia rolled her eyes. “You should go,” Crawford suggested. “Before they come out again.” The brunette took his advice. Crawford asked her to leave the door open, so he saw when his juvenile assassins boiled back into the corridor wearing headsets and carrying pistols. Schuldig looked forward and back, considering. Farfarello coolly shot him in the back of the head.
“You’ve been shot!” the German’s headset announced.
“I wasn’t ready!”
“Whiner.”
“Whine this!”
They shot each other point blank a few times before Schuldig suggested they go hunt sheep.
::Kacia,:: Crawford called.
::Sir?::
::Make sure they don’t get thrown off the train.::
::But it’s okay if they fall off?::
::You can hope, but don’t make it happen.:: Crawford drained his first cup of coffee and went to the dining car.
A good breakfast starts the day off right.
**************
hee hee hee, imagine Christmas morning stuck on a train with Schuldig and Farfarello and Lazertag...
Don’t own Lazertag, btw.
Please review.
Okay, okay, quit nagging already! ;) Here’s some more.
********
Unpredictable Schuldig most certainly was. Crawford woke on his own in the morning, not to an excited German jumping on him. When his mind caught up with the time zone and realized it had been ten hours since he saw the boys, he threw on his robe and stepped to knock on their door. No answer, they weren’t there. He knocked on Kacia’s. She answered, sleepy and tousled and looking her age and more. Crawford told her to get dressed and went to do the same, his mind racing.
Dining car. His first thought, and his sincere hope, was that they were in the dining car. Teenage boys got hungry, it hadn’t been so long that he’d forgotten that. They got tired and they got hungry, and the need for food was nearly the only thing that would drag a sleepy teen out of his bed. He did not want to think about all the myriad alternatives to the dining car. Especially as the date was guaranteed to have excited Farfarello’s obsession. He would think about that if they were not in the dining car.
Kacia still was not ready. Crawford went without her. The sooner he knew, the sooner he could plan.
The boys weren’t in the dining car, though apparently they had been. The hostess was very concerned about the orange-haired boy. After Schuldig consumed a pot of coffee, two plates of stuffed French toast with whipped cream and confectioners’ sugar and blueberry syrup, and a hot fudge sundae, she had noticed he had “the shakes.” Did the poor boy have a medical condition? Crawford should have advised the staff if...
Crawford pinched the bridge of his nose and excused himself and wished he’d found them quietly killing someone. They were peaceful after they killed.
A harried Kacia joined him, looking annoyed.
::I touched the boy toy, but he blocked me,:: she growled. ::He’s finally putting some effort into shielding.::
::Farfarello?::
::He’s focused, and not thinking bloody murder. I can’t pick him out.::
::You go forward, I’ll go back. Listen for people annoyed by Schu. He’s had enough sugar to send the Care Bears into diabetic shock.::
::Gods, pray he fell off while we were over a trestle,:: the brunette muttered as she turned away. Crawford reminded himself he did not want Schuldig to have fallen into a river. He needed Schuldig. He did. His plans would take at least ten years longer without a telepath of significant power.
Every person in the car but him sneezed.
::Crawford, he’s close to you!:: Kacia reported. ::But that’s all I got, he shielded again.::
Damn, the next car was a luggage car, and not heated. Idiot boy, the last thing Crawford needed was an undisciplined telepath with a cold...
::Go get your breakfast. I’ll deal with them.:: He ignored her sharp satisfaction as he moved between cars. An unconscious naked man next to a pile of familiar clothes directed him to what had to be the right compartment. Crawford stepped over the man.
Need to work on their assassin skills, he noted when he not only got into the compartment, he was almost on top of his team and they still hadn’t noticed him. The noise and smell of the train only partially excused it, they were being careless. As if anyone could miss the tent they’d made of someone’s oriental rug. He bent to see his team huddled under it, each with a mug of something warm beside him. Great, more caffeine. The German had apparently decided to try the uniform look, the train employee’s clothes were baggy on him. The Irish boy sat uncaring of the cold in his usual clothes, unwrapping a plain paper bundle.
“Schu-Schu!” Farf said softly as black cloth and shiny metal fell into his hand. “How did you get these?”
Oh, damn, throwing knives in a forearm sheath. Crawford had expended a lot of effort trying to keep his psycho unarmed when not on duty.
“Duh,” the wild child answered. “Telepath, remember? I borrowed a Hare Krishna three airports ago. I want to know how you got your no-Talent ass past old Glinty-Glasses to get these.”
Oh, damn. Schuldig was caressing a large box with “Cupojoe’s Gourmet Chocolate Covered Espresso Beans” on the label. Right above “10 lbs.”
“The internet,” Farfarello answered. “Do you know some believe credit cards are the number of the Beast?”
Schuldig rolled his eyes and popped a bean into his mouth. “You’d have to spend a fuck of a lot to get God’s attention that way.”
“Perhaps what matters is what I buy,” Farf responded, testing one of his new blades. Schuldig yelped.
“Stab your own shoes, bastard!”
“Herr Crawford wants me to practice my aim. If I miss and stab myself, I won’t know.”
“Blood, moron. If you’re aiming for shoe and you draw blood, you missed!”
“Right.” Farfarello tested another knife. Crawford stood and lifted the rug.
“Gentlemen,” he said, “bring your things.”
The two exchanged worried stares and clutched their treasures. Crawford turned to lead. He gathered Kacia as they passed through the dining car, and ignored her triumph at Schu in trouble. He didn’t turn at her gasp of pain, either. “Schuldig, leave her alone.”
“Ja, ja, wouldn’t want to damage the little mind, would we?”
Kacia was far better trained than Schuldig, but Crawford still felt the overflow of her response to that. “Scheisse,” Schuldig breathed, and this time Crawford’s shields rang with the edges of the unconcentrated energy. Damn, but his wild child had power! Crawford caught Kacia’s elbow as she stumbled.
“Stop, both of you.” He held on to Kacia as he opened his door, guided her to the best chair as the boys stopped in the entrance and stared. His cabin looked like a WalMart Christmas section had exploded. Crawford caught the younger boy’s eye. “Why is Christmas celebrated in December, Farfarello?”
“It was an attempt by the early church to usurp the pagan celebrations of midwinter and the solstice. It succeeded.”
“And now the birth of their Christ has been eclipsed by their own creation.” Crawford tossed the boy his elf hat, abandoned in the airport the night before. “Want to play Santa?” He gestured at the tiny tree adorned with every commercial soulless ornament the staff had been able to scare up. Farf grinned and donned his hat, adjusted the elf-ears. Crawford waved at his bed. “You can sit there, Schu. Anyone want a drink?” He lifted a bottle adorned with Santa Claus. Caffeine-free diet soda, but he didn’t need to mention that.
“Herr Crawford, do I just hand them all out?”
“Yes, and then you’ll wait. Sadism is in the spirit of the season, Farf.”
The Irish boy snorted and passed out one small present each. Crawford gestured at Kacia to start.
“I...didn’t buy any gifts,” she said softly.
“These aren’t gifts, they’re rewards for a job well done.”
“Bribes for our good behavior,” Schuldig corrected, popping another espresso bean in his mouth. Crawford only raised an eyebrow. Kacia began to carefully open her gift. Schu growled and grabbed, ripping the ribbon off as she snatched it away. “Come on, Toots, you’re holding up the line.”
The two exchanged blows again, Crawford put an end to it. Again. Kacia finished opening a diamond pendant as Schuldig stuck her sparkly green bow in his hair. He started bouncing, Crawford ignored him while Kacia admired her gift, then pointed at Farfarello. The Irish boy went even slower than Kacia, grinning at Schu’s impatience. The German tried to help, Farf flung one of his new knives. Schuldig stuck out his tongue.
“Missed me, you—“ Farf flung another. “Verdamm! Watch the jewels, asshole!” He pulled the knife from between his legs and tossed it across the compartment, but he did stop bouncing on the bed. Farfarello unwrapped a new eyepatch, with a cat-slitted glass eye free-mounted in it. Schuldig actually forgot his own present for a few minutes, admiring the “freaky-ass thing.” When the German started bouncing again, Crawford nodded to him. In less than a second, shreds of shiny reindeer paper were everywhere, and Schuldig was opening the box.
“Snakes?” he demanded. “You got me a necklace with snakes on it?”
“Symbol for Loki,” Crawford said, pouring himself coffee. “The Trickster. The red-headed Viking god of Chaos.”
“Ha!” Farfarello blurted. “You, a god?”
“Hey, I’m pretty enough, powerful enough—and goddamnit, people like me!”
“Did you get that in writing?” Kacia asked. And winced.
“Merry Christmas,” Schuldig said.
“What?”
“I didn’t hit you for nearly ten minutes.”
“Because Crawford told you to stop!”
“And I did. Merry Christmas.”
“If you two are done,” Crawford lifted his cup, “you might check your compartments for bulkier...bribes.” The boys got stuck in the door, trying to get through it at the same time. Kacia rolled her eyes. “You should go,” Crawford suggested. “Before they come out again.” The brunette took his advice. Crawford asked her to leave the door open, so he saw when his juvenile assassins boiled back into the corridor wearing headsets and carrying pistols. Schuldig looked forward and back, considering. Farfarello coolly shot him in the back of the head.
“You’ve been shot!” the German’s headset announced.
“I wasn’t ready!”
“Whiner.”
“Whine this!”
They shot each other point blank a few times before Schuldig suggested they go hunt sheep.
::Kacia,:: Crawford called.
::Sir?::
::Make sure they don’t get thrown off the train.::
::But it’s okay if they fall off?::
::You can hope, but don’t make it happen.:: Crawford drained his first cup of coffee and went to the dining car.
A good breakfast starts the day off right.
**************
hee hee hee, imagine Christmas morning stuck on a train with Schuldig and Farfarello and Lazertag...
Don’t own Lazertag, btw.
Please review.