Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Descent ❯ Descent ( Prologue )

Another fic that used to live on ff.net, this continues from the Schwarz CD dramas (which took place after the first series). The new circumstances of Schwarz will be explained later, and I've even added an explanation for the ending. As always, I love feedback and take it into account when writing my next fic.

Key:
Telepathic Communication.
Emphasis.

-- Descent: Prologue --

So this map 'allegedly' leads to the artifact, Crawford? Stop me if I'm wrong -- and I know you will -- but isn't what we have here a forged map that leads to nothing? How tight is our budget right now, anyway?

Crawford did not answer Schuldich as they walked up a wooden stairway in a Tokyo hotel. The steps were carpeted in a design from either a Hokusai woodcut, or an imitation of one; it was difficult to tell as the pattern had been worn down to mere threads in places. The rotting banisters didn't look safe, and the precog felt his team-mate's presence inside his mind, so that the telepath would have full warning before he put his foot through a floorboard.

At the top, they were confronted only with corridor of peeling paint and flickering fluorescent lighting. They began to walk in step with each other, business-like as usual, when Crawford broke stride. As he did so, he removed his revolver from the concealed holster inside his jacket. He heard Schuldich follow hastily behind him, making little effort to move silently.

What Crawford saw, even converted from premonition to reality, was not numbered amongst his experiences of death. He had never known someone to die on him in that manner, nor had he caused any similar deaths. He would have been impressed if he had.

"Jesus ..." A moment of awe, a moment of nausea.

"I don't think He had anything to do with it... Mm, he smells like a Sunday roast."

The man lay naked, stretched out on the bed. His mouth was twisted out of proportion to his face and eyes were wide from shock. Yet not a mark on him. All his clothes, all his possessions, were scattered over the floor.

Crawford walked over to the wardrobe and began to pull the inner drawers out, systematically searching each one. Behind him, he could hear the splintering sounds of his team-mate doing the same to the floorboards.

"Did you ever work with him?" asked Schuldich as he picked through the carcass of the pillow that had clearly been thoroughly examined by the previous visitor already.

"I think so, but one agent looks the same as another after a while." Crawford moved onto the mattress, then briefly examined each article of clothing on the floor.

He glanced up when he realised that the sound of searching had stopped. Schuldich was sitting on the bed, arms folded across his chest.

"Correct," Crawford responded, without even waiting for an explanation. "It's not here."

Without further justification, they stood up and left the room.

"Whoever did this gets ten out of ten for style," remarked Schuldich as he closed the door behind them.

-- End Prologue --