Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Dancing with the Devil ❯ one ( Chapter 1 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Dancing with the Devil

Disclaimers: Project Weiss Kreuz belongs to their respected creators and artists. I am just borrowing the characters for a moment and will put them back once I get done. In no way am I trying to make any profit from this fiction, I am just have way too many plot bunnies that need some airing out. Suing will result in gaining a college loan that will never end and a pair of fuzzy slippers.
Warnings: Some spoilers from the beginning of the series up to Weiss Side B. Lots of swearing, violence, religion dissing, and yaoi will make an appearance in one form or another. Some OOC to be expected because of trying to be all interesting with this. Farfarello POV.
Pairings: Farfarello + Aya right now

*~*~*~*

one - -

"This is your fault."

I barely even glanced at the redhead, having heard that and similar phrases for the past hour until I felt like telling the guards that I would confess just to get away from him. It wasn't my fault that we had taken on the same hit, nor was it my fault that we happened to arrive at nearly the same time and in the same manner. And it wasn't me that had to break the nice quiet night yelling 'Shi-ne!' at me and drawing that stupid katana of his like he did. He probably woke up the whole bloody ocean with his yelling and carrying on about things three years dead.

And they say that -I- have a hard time letting go of the past.

"Can you hear me, Schwarz? This. Is. Your. Fault." I could feel his glare even as he tugged on his handcuffs, the metal rasping against metal. "Fuck. All the people in the world and I get stuck with the fucking psychopath."

"Sociopath," I replied, glancing at Fujimiya and watching with amusement as he tried to yank his cuffed hands free of the metal piping he was attached to. "Psychopath makes it sound like I have no clue what I was doing. Sociopath since I did know and could care less about its moral implications."

Fujimiya blinked at me, then said in a horror-filled voice, "It can talk."

"It can see that it's in the presence of another human," I replied, looking up at my own cuffed hands. "And if -someone- did not start yelling about 'Schwarz', the guards wouldn't have ganged up on us and throw us in here."

He grumbled something under his breath, the scraping sounds telling me he was trying to push himself up more to get at his cuffs. Craning my neck to something that would hurt a normal person, I could just make out my hands. The guards had done an excellent job, having twisted my arms behind my back then over my head. If I could feel pain, by now I would have been in agony. As it was, I could imagine that much of Fujimiya's struggles were because of the pain of his own twisted arms since he was in a similar position.

After a moment or two, the sounds of him struggling ceased, his cuffs rattling a last time. I looked back over at him, seeing the grim, pale look in his purple eyes, the set of his thin lips. He scowled at me, then blew a few loose strands of his hair from his eyes. It looked like I wasn't the only one to have grown out my hair over the years.

"I don't know why I am trying," he said, looking up at his own bound hands. "Even if I could reach the picks in my hair, my fingers are too numb to actually use them."

I grunted in response, twisting my right wrist then my left, getting a feel of how tight they made my bonds. Then tugging on the pipe to figure out how sturdy it was, I looked around the room, searching for anything that could be useful once I did get free.

"There is a couple loose pipes against the far wall that might be handy if we were free," Fujimiya said, voicing my own estimate. "Two guards at the door, and a window that even you would have a problem crawling through."

"Are you saying that I would try it anyways?"

"Seeing how you have twisted your arms like braids, I'd say yes."

I raised an eyebrow at him, letting my arms hang naturally again, watching the quick, tiny smirk appear on his lips. "Do get over the bloody freak comments now if you expect me to break you out as well."

"Compared to Schuldig, Nagi and Crawford, you aren't that freakish," he replied. "I'd thought that you were just too insane to respond to pain. Or that you just got off of it."

"I'd thought that you barely said anything besides 'Shi-ne, Takatori'."

He grimaced at the name and renewed his own struggles to get free, leaving me to return my attentions to the matter at hand. I jerked my arms hard, feeling my right shoulder give a 'pop' in protest, the cuffs digging into my wrists. But I could also feel the slack on my right hand, as if they didn't tighten it as much as the cuff on my left wrist. I twisted my right arm and hand again, feeling the metal scrape skin and a trickle of blood run down my arm. I did have enough room to get that hand free. Two tugs, maybe three, was all I needed.

"I hope you aren't going to bleed yourself to death on me," Fujimiya said.

I shrugged, looking at my hands and the blood flowing freely from my right wrist. "It would take a lot more than a simple cut to stop me."

He snorted at that, ceasing his struggles. I gave a second tug on my arm, feeling the metal scrape up my wrist and over the widest part of my hand. There was a crack as my thumb was forced into an unnatural position, and some fresh blood to mingle with the blood already there. Almost there. Just half an inch from getting rid of the stupid cuffs.

"You do know that looks very gross," Fujimiya said.

"It doesn't matter what it looks like as long as I get results."

"Looking gross is your special power?"

"Please, Fujimiya, this may be hard to believe, but I have a lot more talents than licking a knife and making derogatory comments at the Catholic Church."

"I am surprised. Are you -sure- you are Farfarello the Insane Bastard from Schwarz?"

"Just as much as I am sure that you are Fujimiya the Ice Bitch from Weiß."

He glared at me and I went back to work. I tugged again, and my hand popped free, dragging with it a fresh amount of blood and probably half of my skin as well. Both of my arms fell, the right one hanging at an odd angle from my efforts, but that was easily fixable. Fujimiya shifted in his corner, metal scraping over metal while I waited for any sounds of alarm from outside our cell. Hearing none, I stood, turned to face the wall and used it to push my arm back into place. I snapped my thumb in place by grabbing and twisting it back, then, unrolling some of the bandages on my upper arms, I wrapped up my cuts and chaffed wrists and thumb.

Fujimiya watched me, wincing at the sound my thumb made when I forced it back into place. He chewed on his lip as I stalked over to the door and peeped out of the small window to see what was going on, then tugged on his own wrists when I went to pick up the two pipes among the clutter in the corner. I glanced at him and he lifted his head, ever the proud, arrogant Japanese swordsman.

I squatted down in front of him and gave his cheek a pat. "Do you want me to contact Weiss when I leave?"

He glared up at me. "I've been working solo for the past year, so I doubt that they would come to my rescue."

I tilted my head to the side. "I could leave you here for the cops to rescue. . . ."

"Or you could set me free."

"And what would be the profit in that?"

"Fifty percent of the take?"

I laughed and shook my head, and leaned even closer, giving him one of my more disturbing grins. "What would you do to be let out of these cuffs?" I clarified.

He stared at me, a flush staining his cheeks. "I'm not into men."

"Did I say that?"

He blinked and shook his head.

"But since you had to say something along those lines," I continued, giving his cheek a pat. "I think the price for freedom will be a kiss, Fujimiya."

He opened his mouth, closed it, and glared at me, his eyes darkening in either disgust or anger. I sat back on my heels, patient as ever, and waited for his decision. We had some time since our guards were busy stuffing their faces when last I looked out the window. He sighed after a minute or two, looked away and muttered something under his breath.

"What was that?"

"Fine, I said!" he snapped, purple eyes nearly black against his flushed cheeks.

I patted his cheek and leaned even closer, tasting his breath. "Good boy."

He opened his mouth, no doubt about to say something scathing, but I took that moment to cover his mouth with mine. His lips were soft with surprise, and I easily pried them open with a nibble on his lower lip. He stayed rigid while I brushed my tongue against the roof f his mouth, tickled the roots of his teeth and rubbed against his tongue slowly. He tasted like sea water, sweat and blood, and I enjoyed every bitter taste of it.

Half way through, he started responding, hot and bitter and skilled. Tongues clashing, mouths moving against each other, teeth clinking against each other, and breaths mingling; a sword dance made flesh between us. He whimpered, his cuffs rattling, his breathing harsh, then I pulled away, giving his lips a final lick.

He blinked, his eyes a deep lilac colour, his chest moving rapidly as he tried to get his breath back. Then his eyes narrowed and he gave a tug on his chains.

"Satisfied?"

"For now," I replied, still tasting him as I bent to undoing his cuffs. A minute later, he was rubbing his chaffed wrists, eyeing the length of gauze I held out to him before taking it silently. He wrapped his wrists up and picked out a length of pipe for himself.

I looked out the window and made a face at our two watchers. They were leaning over the side of the ship, pants around their ankles and no doubt having a crude kind of contest that Americans got a thrill from. Glancing back at Fujimiya, I made a face while nodding out the window.

"The guards leave much to be desired," I said, trying the door to see if they had even bothered to lock it. They had and I gave a sigh, licking my lips that still tasted of Fujimiya. "Though at least they know how to use a lock."

"You sound disappointed."

"Just once, I'd like an easy day when working," I replied, giving the door a thump, then peering out again. "Fuck, they must be deaf as well as stupid. How long does it take to piss anyways?"

"Definitely not this long. Let's try to get their attention together."

I nodded and made room for him. We banged on the door, jiggled the handle, press our faces to the window, and all but blew the thing off its hinges trying to get the guards' attentions. It took the sound of the pipes pounding away to have them drag their sorry asses back to their posts, blink at the sight of us with freed hands and swung open the door.

Americans. When would they start learning that you do -not- open the door on two very annoyed assassins?

I caught the one guard's arm, using my free hand to slam the pipe into his gut then jerked hard on his captured wrist. My move gave Fujimiya room to tackle the other guard, swinging his pipe like it was his damned katana. His man went down while mine struggled to get back to his feet, his free hand trying to punch me. I let go of his wrist, covered his face with my hand, and introduced the back of his head to the floor a couple of times. I only stopped when I heard the crunch and felt his breathing stop.

I got up, wiping my fingers against my wetsuit absently, watching Aya deal the final blow to his target. I retrieved my pipe and looked the guard over, pulling off of him a gun and a machine gun and a couple clips of ammunition but no knives. How I hated guns. I never seem to have much luck at hitting what I was aiming at with them.

"Did you find any knives?" I asked Fujimiya. The redhead shook his head.

"Three guns, and two clips," he replied.

"Americans. What's the point in having guns when I can kill them with my bare hands?"

"Are you pouting, Berserker?"

He sounded like he was inches from laughing. I toed the body before me and crossed my arms, not even bothering to answer him. I didn't want a gun. I didn't need a gun. I wanted my knives so I can cause my kind of havoc against these idiotic dregs of America's waste.

"Here," Fujimiya said in an all too calm voice, thrusting his pipe in my face. "I'll take the guns and you take the pipes."

I took it and watch him loot the body. "I'm glad that someone can aim straight."

"How are we doing this? Working together or split up and meet in the middle?"

I glanced at him, shrugging. "I estimated twenty goons guarding the main target. Now he has eighteen unless he brought in reinforcements."

"I take it we're splitting up?"

I nodded. "I take port side, you get starboard side?"

"Sounds good, but if you see the target, save some of him for me."

"Deal."

"Farfarello?"

I stopped, turned, and looked at him, his hair straggling from his own braid and guns draped over his wet suit.

"If you see my katana, can you bring it back to me?"

"I could. Can you do the same for my knives?"

"Of course. Good hunting, Farfarello."

"Good hunting, Fujimiya."

We parted ways, him going to the one side and me going to the other. The room we were held in was a storage room behind the helm which was empty when I peeked in. Near the prow of the ship was an enclosed cabin area and steps lead down from there to probably more cabins and the engine room. I had figured that the target was either in the large cabin on deck or down below deck. I had also figured that most of his guards would be there with him, keeping him safe as well as licking his boots for better rewards. In the last part, I was wrong.

Three of the guards fell to me when I found Fujimiya's sword being used by an idiot that seemed to think that he was some sort of martial arts master. He hollered, jumped about, waving the katana and another long blade in his hand and looked about as threatening as a pigeon doing a mating dance. I ducked under the swinging blades, jabbed my elbow into his side, grabbed his arm as he stumbled and proceeded to break every bone in his arm. I then used a pipe to cave in his skull.

"Never wave a weapon about if you don't know how to use it," I told the dead man, letting the pipes drop and picking up the two swords. The one was of decent quality, the kind of thing that armatures buy when they think they are getting a superior blade. The other was definitely Fujimiya's katana, the blade sharpened to perfection, the grip well taken care of and the weight of it told how many lives it ended.

It felt almost sacrilegious to be handling his sword like this, without the proper introduction to it. The Japanese samurai had believed that a sword had its own soul and was treated with as much respect as was an honored ancestor. There was a lot of ritual in the care and welfare of katanas, and yet here I was, fingering up Fujimiya's blade without any proper respect. I cleaned off the blade with a strip of clothing from the corpse, appologised to it then slid it back into its sheath. I took the corpse's belt as well, using it to strap Fujimiya's sword to my side and search for other weapons I could use. To my great delight, not only did he had the two swords, but also a nice gathering of decent knives. I abandoned the pipes where they were and took all the knives with me.

I heard gun shots coming from the other side of the ship and smiled to myself. Fujimiya was still alive and kicking ass, as usual. Maybe before that kiss I wouldn't have cared whether he survived or not, but now I'd like to see how the kiss would affect him later on. I do know that our little sword fight in the rain had left him a bit temperamental towards me in our later meetings.

I gave the distant gunfire a salute with the sword and headed towards my next little group of prey.

=====

My feet stuck to the deck as I walked, my wetsuit sticking to my body, and my hands felt like useless clubs at the end of my arms. I put my back against the rail and slid down until buttocks met the deck. Familiar symptoms racked my body; hot skin, itching bones, the feeling of live worms twisting in place of my muscles. I closed my eyes, let my head fall back on my shoulders and felt the wind cool my over-heating skin.

Fujimiya and I had met near the bow of the ship, each of us driving ahead of us a few cowardly guards to trap between us and the sea. A couple had jumped into the water, but Fujimiya shot them as they swam. The rest fought like cornered rats, but between Fujimiya's uncanny sense of knowing where the bullets where and my ignoring the bullets when they hit, the guards were no match for us. The bow looked like a slaughter house, with bits and pieces strewn about, the stench of blood and bowls tainting the sea air.

I didn't open my eyes at the sound of approaching feet, knowing that outside of myself there was only one other person alive on this side of the ship.

"Are you okay?"

Fujimiya sounded worried. I opened my eye, blinking away the haze to get a look at his face. His thin lips were pursed and eyes narrowed, a trickle of blood marring one cheek. I closed my eye, fingers clenching at the surge of heat through my veins.

"Just taking five."

I felt his cool fingers brush my skin, tugging on something stuck to my face. I opened my eye again and saw a long strand of my hair, a reddish-pink from the gore that plastered it to my cheek.

He frowned more, letting the strand go. "You have a fever."

"It'll pass."

He sat next to me, his katana resting against his shoulder. "What is it from?"

"It's just a side effect," I replied, letting my eye closed again. I could feel my broken bones scrape together, bruised muscles reknitting themselves and my heart pumping ten times faster than that of a normal human's. I also knew that the process would later demand ten times my body weight in food or energy to make up for the speedy recovery.

"Of what? Poison? Drugs?"

I sighed. "I am a biokinetic, Fujimiya. Figure it out."

"Bio. . . Life energy? What kind of power is that?"

Some days, I really had to wonder about the intelligence of my fellow man. That Fujimiya knew what the words meant was a surprise, but I wasn't surprised that he didn't know what it truly meant as a Gift. It wasn't as common as telepathy and telekinesis were, though few were as strong as either Schuldig or Nagi.

"The kind that keeps me moving when I should be dead," I replied, standing up. I wasn't about to tell him what it all meant, though if he was as anal as he acted half the time, I knew that he would look the name of it up when this was all over.

He frowned but didn't say anything, standing as well with his katana held protectively in his hands. I didn't glance at him as I headed to the prow of the ship and the main cabin there. Time to get the target and destroy the evidence. We had been taking more than enough time because of the stupidity of his actions earlier.

The trail of corpses lead right to the door, which I eased open in case the target and his associates were waiting for us. The room was quiet and dark, even to my superior senses. I took a deep sniff, catching the whiff of stale cigarettes and booze, but nothing else. I turned on the overhead and looked around.

"Gone?" Fujimiya was almost crawling up my back to see.

"Looks like it. Did you hear or see a boat getting dropped or people trying to swim away?"

"No, I didn't. Do you think that the target would have actually came out to fight us?"

We glanced at each other. We glanced at the trail of bodies going down the deck. We both sighed, and started to check all the corpses for the target. It took us a while but we did find him, half his face caved in from my application of a pipe on his face. The target was the idiot martial artist wanna-be person I killed a while back.

"Hn."

"Guess that means we should just blow this ship and half the award," I said, stopping myself from absently nibbling on a knife. Some habits die hard.

"You're the one that killed him," Fujimiya replied.

I shrugged and poked at the body, scaring away some flies. "Yeah, but still a deal's a deal. You get half, fair and square."

"I suppose talking you out of it would be suicidal on my part?"

"Damn right, Fujimiya. You take your half and grin about it. Now, let's sink this ship and go collect."

After a liberal splashing of gas all over the boat and the added bonus of punctured gas cans in various spots, Fujimiya set the bombs he brought with him while I applied a lighter to the fuse of the dynamite I brought with me. We were off the boat, heading for shore when the first explosion hit, triggering flames, fumes and even more explosions. I turned back to watch it, letting Fujimiya direct the boat since he seemed to know more about it then I did. Parts of it were sinking, other parts were flinging themselves into the air, and still more parts smoldered and exploded some more. Hopefully no one would be able to piece together too much of what happened there outside of some killings. Forensic science might be all well and good but it is not a friend of the assassin.

We made it to shore and he sent the boat off to destroy itself. I made sure he knew my account for my share of the loot before heading off to get my stuff. Time to go home. America was just getting too weird to stay in it long enough to collect for the job.