Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Falling to Pieces ❯ Chapter Three ( Chapter 3 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

And still you read on, -sets up a refreshment booth for bystanders- Bon appetite!





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His room holds none of the chill that mine is renowned for. I haven't ever been in his private sanctuary before, for all of the time that we've shared this house, shared a career. Bedrooms are like bathrooms. Private. Somewhere you certainly don't want the rest of the world gawking at your and grinding their heels into your bared vulnerability.

I stand in the middle of the room, wiggling my toes in the plush carpet, unsure of what to do with myself. Aya stands against the door, staring off into nowhere, equally uncertain of what to do now that a temporary truce has been reached.

This is going beyond the realm of awkward into actual painfulness. I swallow and rub my eyes, playing with my hair when the ache in my eyes is pushed back some.

"What's wrong with your eyes?" I can't help but jump when Aya speaks, the silence broken in a most unexpected manner.

"Nothing." I pause, thinking about how many times I've used that one word as an answer to subjects I don't want to talk about. "They just ache. From lack of sleep." I clarify, the direct openness difficult but tolerable.

He says nothing. He's started in on his clothing hems again. It's a wonder he has anything left to wear if he does this whenever he's nervous. Though, considering this is AYA we're speaking of, I doubt he often experiences emotions like unease. So why now?

I laugh softly to myself, unable to help it. Look at us. A couple of grown men standing around fidgeting because we can't figure out what the hell to say to each other once we're not busy arguing about trivial little issues.

"Are you hungry again?" Aya looks like he wants nothing more than excuse to bolt. He has good reason. This was a big mistake. I can't trust anyone but myself. He was trying to help, maybe to make up for threatening to kick me off of the team.

"Yeah, sure. No, don't bother." I hold up a hand to stop him. "I'll go eat. It's late. I shouldn't be bothering you. I'm just going to grab a sandwich and go get some sleep before work tomorrow.

He shrugs, surprising me. "I'll come with you. I'm not quite tired yet." He opens the door, escaping gratefully into the hallway. I watch him relax almost instantly. I guess being confined to small closed off spaces with me might do that to people.

I'm going all unsteady again, the stairs a tad more difficult to maneuver this time. I almost stumble into Aya's back as my foot catches on the last step. He glares back at me, back into regular mode again.

"Try not to be so clumsy."

I actually smile. This seems more like sanity now. An angry intolerant Aya who doesn't give a damn if you're tired and numb and your ribs hurt, just so long as you don't accidentally bump into his sacred person.

"Sit." He points to the table. I meekly slump over in a hard wooden chair, too drained to kick up much of a fuss. I guess I'll save my remaining coherent time trying to keep as many people as possible happy with me.

I watch through a haze as he pulls deli meat out of the fridge and somehow manages to pile things onto toasted bread in my exact favorite combination. I blink, startled to say the least. I don't know if I even want to ask how he knew about my eating preferences.

He sets the finished product down on front of me, the plate clunking against the wood table. He spins and pours me a glass of water. I consider dumping the water out and getting something alcoholic for myself before taking in Aya's expression and realizing that not only was he anticipating that reaction, he's fully prepared to keep me from following through.

I take a cautious bite, unsure as to whether or not my stomach will accept more food so soon. Aya idly tears a small piece of sliced turkey away from the deli-wrapped pack. He watches me watching him. I turn back to my own food, wondering why I stopped eating to begin with. I didn't remember food tasting this wonderful.

"Is it alright?" Aya asks me. For a moment I'm unsure as to what he's referring before I figure out he's asking about the sandwich. I nod and continue trying to keep myself from gobbling down the food in a manner that would only make me ill.

We eat in silence, he only nibbling here and there. Before it was the cold and now it's the quite. I can't deal with all this silence. It roars in my ears, a tangible white noise, distracting me. I have nothing to say though. The old Aya is back, and it's not even worth the attempt to try and get through to Aya when he's in non-responsive mode.

I somehow manage to finish the whole thing, though I regret it afterwards, feeling satiated and groggy. He doesn't stop me when I get up and rinse the plate off in the sink, leaving it to be cleaned in the morning.

I rake the hair back from me face, stretching. My sides objects to the movement, but the protestations are halfhearted. I'm too full and tired to care much.

"I think I'll be heading for bed now." I ineptly reply. There's no need to brush up on eloquent speeches at the moment. I doubt he's even listening. He rises and starts to put away the last of the sandwich fillings, meticulous and compulsive.

He looks up. "And staying there?" He inquires with an arched eyebrow. Still suspicious. I don't blame him. With food in my stomach and the cobwebs cleared from my head, it's easier to see how deranged my actions must have seemed. Perhaps I do deserve his incredulity when it comes to my sincerity and sense of self-preservation.

I shrug and flash him a quick fake grin, hoping that counts as an answer. I wonder if I could formulate a complete sentence if my life depended on it. I look to the stairway, think about walking up all those stairs, think about collapsing face down in the empty lifeless room and lying there until the sun rose or until I lost consciousness.

If I attempt the climb and cannot make it then I'll never hear the end of it from Aya, further proof for him of my dysfunctional nature and body. Put off the inevitable then.

"On second thought-I think I'll go watch a little television for a while. I'm tired but I don't feel like sleeping." I just barely manage to keep from stammering. I feel like a brain dead idiot. Then again, that's not unusual recently, is it?

Guess who follows me and sits next to me on the couch. I refrain from commenting.

"I don't want you sneaking out to some bar the second I turn my back." He clarifies with justifiable suspicion. Whether it's justifiable or not, it still angers me, his distrust. No one likes to know someone thinks him to be a bloody liar.

Muttering under my breath, I grab up the remote and start randomly flipping through the channels, bound and determined to drive Aya insane. I eventually settle on some moronic game show where the contestants put on blindfolds and attempt to guess the name of objects based on their smell. I smirk as I watch Aya's disdainful expression.

His mouth opens and closes a few times as he attempts to dredge up the proper words to fully criticize this travesty. Finally he just gives up and shuts his mouth, eyes narrowed down to furious slits. Haha, this is more fun then I'd thought it would be.

I wrap my arms around my torso, huddling down on the couch. Here's where Aya gets a chance to berate me for having left the blanket upstairs, for being lazy and shirtless and cold.

He shifts closer. Our sides press together, the heat reaching me even through his clothing. My muscles tense up against my will as I try to puzzle out his most recent startling reaction. What does he want? Why is he doing this?

Next to me, his body slowly relaxes, some of his weight pressing back. I take a deep breath and let it out slowly, bit by bit easing a bit of weight onto his frame, evening it out. When a few moments pass and nothing bad happens, I cautiously tilt my head to the side, resting it against his shoulder. No change still. My eyes slide shut.

This is almost peaceful. As long as I pretend it's some faceless, soulless body next to me it's all right. I don't have to remind myself of my shortcomings, my failings, my utter helplessness in the face of everything that's been rushing towards me.

My hand flies up to rub at my face, pushing against my close eyelids, trying to banish the raw ache there. I'm so tired. I just need some sleep. Some peace and dark and solitude.

Without thinking I turn slightly and rub my cheek against his shoulder, getting comfortable. It only takes a few seconds for my actions to sink in before absolute mortification hits. I shouldn't have done that, not even as an unconscious gesture.

I brace myself, waiting for some sort of recrimination, something new to rip me out of this bit of unexpected comfort. Instead I'm greeted with a low rumbling chuckle I can actually feel resonating through his flesh. I consider asking whether it's a laugh of scorn or vague amusement, but over the few minutes I take to ponder, my body steps in and decides that it would like to go the fuck to sleep, so I do.

I wake from a soothing warm dream about lying on a beach in the hot, hot sun. I can hear the shower down the hallway, the hiss and patter of water breaking upon my drowsy, early-morning gathering of thoughts.

I burrow my face back into my pillow, hiding from the light I can see through my eyelids. I'm exhausted. Fuck the sun. I want to close my eyes and go back to that beach, back to that respite from the harsh, garish colors of the waking world around me.

I try to remember the night before, try to pin down how much I had to drink. I can't find a memory of anywhere but this house. We had a mission. I remember that. And-a flashback of being slammed into the wall-trying to roll away from the unseen sniper-star bright pain.

What happened after that though? I should have gone out. I stretch, face still sinking into the sinfully soft pillow. Aya. He was angry at me, following me. I went outside. It was cold, numbing. My breath catches as the rest of the previous evening floods my mind. I fell asleep on Aya. I fell asleep on Aya on the damned couch.

I bolt up, looking around me. What am I doing in my own room? I'm supposed to be curled up on the couch next to Aya, ready for the beating of my life. Did I stumble up to bed by myself? Did he leave me on the couch and have someone else come drag me upstairs?

I look at my folded up clothes on a chair and my tidied room and determine that it was in fact Aya himself who was partially responsible for me being back in my own bed. Only he would think to fold up dirty clothes rather than simply tossing them on the floor for later.

I shift my legs. Yes the jeans are gone. Wouldn't I remember falling down repeatedly while Aya clumsily tried to help me get out of my own pants? I shrug, looking down. Well I'll be damned. He tucked me into bed like a kid. I'm unsure whether or not to smile or to go down and kick his ass for taking the liberty. Though, I did fall asleep on him, which was pretty rude of me.

Rubbing at my face I grimace as bruises reinstate their presences and lay the smack down, for lack of a better phrase. If I hurry I can get to the bathroom and call dibs on the shower. I never did get to take one yesterday. I wonder how badly I smell right now.

For that matter, how big a stench was I putting off last night? How pleasant it would be if I wound up falling asleep on Aya reeking of sweat and blood and unwashed hair. I stumble to my feet and shamble towards the door. I have boxer shorts on, that's enough for just the house.

I wind up playfully wrestling Omi for the next turn in the bathroom.

"Look kid. You took a shower bright and early yesterday, and I didn't. I'm up at a decent time today; give me a break!" Of course, my superior height helps me win the tussle, though the fact that I'm immune to being tickled and Omi is certainly not helps as well.

I make sure my towel is on the rack before clambering into the steaming water. Ah, now this is the life. Soaking the ache in my ribs away. There are no words to describe the magic that a simple shower can work on the human mind.

I whisk condensed water away from the mirror surface, studying the marring on my face as I run a brush through my hair. There isn't any swelling now, just mottled patches of purple/blue discoleration. My sides look worse. The bruising is intense, angry looking, standing out horribly against my already prominent.

I gently trace over the raised ridges of bone, testing how much pressure they can take. Not much at all. What a mess. What a bloody mess. My stomach growls, thinking it should receive the royal treatment from now on. One or two lousy little meals and all of a sudden my body is getting all uppity on me.

Having forgotten any spare clothing, I simply wrap the damp towel around my waist, attempting to fluff up my hair as I go. I get an appreciative whistle from Ken as he eyes my (cough) battle wounds.

"You really did get knocked around, didn't you?" He grins, making light of the whole episode, having slept through my sporadic attempt at self-destruction and the bouts of quarreling between Aya and I.

Yeah. I got knocked around a bit. It's not too bad today. I barely feel any pain. I'm not numb though, just exhausted. Back to my good old self. Maybe I just needed something to shake me out of my blue funk.

I shimmy into some clean clothes and tromp cheerfully down the stairs, whistling. The scent of frying bacon assails my nostrils. I can't control the grin that spreads across my face. It smells like a small slice of heaven all of a sudden.

"Hey, I'm out of the bathroom now." I inform Omi as I peer over his shoulder at the makings of a delightful breakfast. "The food just for you? Or do you have enough to share?" I snag a wedge of toast while he's not looking, munching it on the sly.

He turns around, eyes incredulous. "You're going to eat breakfast? While you're awake BEFORE noon? Who are you and what did you do with Youji?" He laughs, though he's not entirely kidding. "Well, I'm glad to hear that. I was starting to get really worried about you."

I flap a hand carelessly, "No need to worry. I'm a big boy, capable of taking care of myself and leaping tall buildings in a single bound." I grin and take another piece of toast. Not the best food in the world, but there's more to come. Life looks like a great thing all of a sudden.

I don't work in the shop until the afternoon shift, which I share with Aya this time. He retreats back into storage, doing some inventory while I flit with the newly arrived hordes of fangirls and attempt to make them buy things rather than window shop.

In all honesty though, his absence is much appreciate. What the hell am I supposed to say to him? "Thanks for not letting me kill myself." "Thanks for not breaking my neck when I fell asleep on the couch with you." I'm certainly not going to get any help there from Aya. He's not the articulate one, that's left up to me.

If I don't say anything will the whole thing breeze over as if it's never even happened? Do I want it to? It was sort of nice to feel like it wasn't just me against the world for a little while. Aya and I have known each other for years, and considering we share a house and no less than two jobs at the same time, things are always a little easier when we two get along.

When he comes out to help man the registers I try to start up a conversation, typical Youji style, of course. I don't know whether to be relieved or angry when he pointedly ignores me and even goes as far as to glare at me when I keep on trying.

It takes a little while but I finally get the not-so-subtle message. Apparently the fact that he was attempting to treat me like a fellow human being last night doesn't change anything in the long run. I'm still scum under his feet when it comes right down to it. I can deal.

Not to many people take me seriously to begin with; it's nothing new to me. I don't act in a professional manner, and I sure as hell don't possess a single serious bone in my entire body. I don't deserve scorn though. Just because I don't have a stick up my ass like SOME people I know...

Ken seems concerned when he comes to take Aya's place an hour later, concerned with my muted attitude.

"I thought you were doing better. Omi said you had breakfast today." He comments casually.

"You guys keeping tabs on me then?" The question isn't meant to sound defensive, a hint of joking. We all know that Omi is the worrier and gets everyone else in on it when he's unsure of the health of any of his teammates. Maybe he's the one who talked Aya into acting like a person last night. Omi would know well enough that a psuedo-compassionate Aya would be enough to shock even me out of whatever had hold of my state of mind.

"Hey, you went I don't know how many weeks without eating or getting proper sleep; you had us all worried." Ken turns solemn brown eyes my way. "Aya spent every minute you weren't around ranting about how mad he was at you, which is his way of expressing anxiety." He laughs.

Aya was concerned about me? So that wasn't an act? This is starting to irk me. I'm not good when it comes to unfamiliar territory. This is all out of my league. I don't think an entire fleet of certified psychiatrists could diagnose what's wrong with Weiss's redhead, let alone even begin to give him a chance to behave normally, so what chance do I have.

"On another note, what were you doing up so early today? Omi was suggesting that perhaps aliens really had come down and replaced you with a more socially acceptable version of your past self." He mock punches me in the arm before breaking away to take an order for an upcoming wedding.

"I haven't given up smoking!" I chipperly call after him, as if that somehow makes it all better. Of course, the pack of cigarettes I drove down to the store for this morning also helps to account for my more tranquil mood. When nicotine cravings aren't taking over your mind, it's a lot easier to think and cope.

He ruefully shakes his head. "That's not something to be proud of Kudou. Honestly, it's good that you're doing much better, but the cancerous lungs you're working on sort of downplay the whole moment of redemption."

"I thought it was up to Omi to worry about things like that." It's up to Omi to worry, and Aya to berate. That's how they cope with things that annoy them or upset them. Ken though, he doesn't seem to have a set patter of actions. Maybe that's why I get along with him so well. I don't like unpredictable situations, but as far as I'm concerned, variability is an admirable trait in a person.

He shrugs and finishes up with the middle-aged customer, pausing to chat with a few bouncy young girls hanging around the front of the shop. I consider stepping up to do the same, slipping back into the familiar games of word playing. A sudden realization shocks me. I'm simply not interested in flirting with them. Not interested in pretending I have any attraction to some jailbait schoolgirl. Actually haven't for some time now. Maybe an alien HAS replaced me. Since when is Youji Kudou not up to flirting with anything in a skirt?

I spend the rest of my double shift waiting for a chance to be alone and think. What's wrong with me? Honestly, there's nothing wrong with being superficial, so why is it troubling me now? Ah, here comes the little blond kid now, right on time. I throw my apron onto its hook and ruffle Omi's hair as I walk past.

"Have fun." I grin. Finally, some time to myself. That's all I need. Space and time on my own to sort out my thoughts. I didn't manage to off myself this go round, probably won't for some time now. Time for me to get ready to take control of my life once more.

I grab my long jacket and my car keys. I'm about to break into a cheerful bout of whistling as I practically skip down to the garage before I hear another engine starting up. I immediately go into 'assassin' mode, walking lightly and quickly, avoiding any sounds from my boots on the cement.

I show up in time to see Aya's car pull out of the garage, his face distant and unfocused. Now where is he off to? Oh well, I didn't really want to go into the self-examination. I might as well just spy on my teammate.

I jump into my own vehicles and covertly tail him, knowing by the few seconds I saw of his expression that he's gone all inverted and isn't paying much attention to his outside surroundings. And he accuses me of having a death wish.

I don't follow very closely and he doesn't seem to spot me. I start to wonder where we're going when we hit a major highway. I wait until I'm pretty sure the road keeps going in one straight line before stopping for some gas and continuing on. This could be interesting. I wonder what our 'leader' is up to.

After the first fifteen minutes of driving I'm starting to get a tad bored. What if he's just out for a drive in the country, trying to get away and think like I was planning on doing myself? We enter new city limits. It's a vaguely familiar looking place, I'm sure I've driven through it once or twice on my way somewhere. Just another suburban paradise for stupid yuppies.

Aya finally stops at the main hospital. My mind is whirring with concerns and musings. Did he get hurt last night and not say anything, playing the hypocritical martyr? Is he just picking up medical supplies? Is something wrong with him?

I park far enough away that I won't attract attention, but close enough that I can catch up with him and keep out of sight. He walks across the asphalt parking lot with purposeful strides, entering the tall solid building with a air of familiarity. He comes here often then? Is there something chronically wrong with him that he hasn't told us about? That two-faced lying son of a bitch!

I watch the elevator gauge at the top as I wait for it to stop. He was the only one in the elevator, and it stops once, on the twelfth floor. I steel myself and call the elevator back. I have to know what's going on. Aya will most likely break every bone in my body later today, but I have to know. I should just walk away, but damn my insatiable curiosity.

The elevator makes that damned 'bing' noise as it stops and opens to let me out on floor level twelve. I grit my teeth, sure that everyone in the whole building hears the sound. My eyes dart around, immediately spotting the back of his crimson head. He doesn't turn, merely speaks with the woman at the reception desk before silently stalking down a corridor.

Hesitating, my conscience wars with my desire to solve this puzzle. I take a deep breath and head after him, slowly, to give him time to get ahead to where he's going. To either side I see just plain old hospital rooms. No surgery rooms, or doctor's offices.

Aya turns to the side into the doorway of one of the patient's rooms. Is he visiting someone?? He doesn't have any friends, does he? How could he without us knowing it? He's always around, never dates, never parties and certainly never goes to visit people.

Creeping closer to the doorway, I peer in. He's drawn up next to a bed, hunching down to be nearer to a motionless girl. She could be one of the fangirls from the shop for all I know, though I doubt that for many obvious reasons. Throwing caution to the wind I silently slip into the room, hovering near the outreaches.

I feel like an interloper, intruding on something private and absolutely none of my business. Come to think of it, that's never stopped me before, has it?? He's whispering.

"What am I supposed to do?" His hands clasp one of her still ones. She doesn't move. Is she that deeply asleep? In a coma perhaps? "Why do these things happen?"

He sounds so tired, so defeated. He lowers his forehead to rest it against the wan hand he holds between his own.

"Aya?" Without thinking, I place a hand on his shoulder, thinking to repay the favor from last night, cheer him up a little. The look in his eyes as his head snaps up and around makes me realize how stupid my action was.

It's a rough, raw mixture of horror, fury and fading dejection. He gently places the hand back by her side, his face closing up the whole while, before standing up again. He brushes fingertips across dark hair.

"You. Parking lot. Now." The words are spit out with a forcefulness that has me more than worried. Now he's going to kill me. I shouldn't have done that. I should have left him alone. It's none of my business. He made it pretty clear that he was just being polite last night, that there would be no lessening of our personality clashes any time soon.

"Fujimiya-san, did you enjoy your visit with Aya?" The woman at the front desk calls as we march past. My mind has trouble getting around that one. Fujimiya-san, that's Aya. So, how could he be seeing himself in the hospital? Is the woman confused? Am I confused?

As soon as the elevator doors close behind us, he slams me up against the wall, face twisted with rage, bare inches from mine. "What gives you the right? What gives you the right to spy on me? What gives you the right to pry into my life!?" He slams me back again, physically restraining himself from doing worse.

"I didn't think, I mean-" All words flee my mind at the rage on his face. It's hard to be articulate when death is looking you in the face.

"That's right. You never think." He hisses at me. The elevator doors open on the ground floor and he drags me by the coat collar past a startled couple. My foot catches and I almost stumble over the step down from the non-wheelchair accessible exit. Apparently this doesn't concern Aya, and I'm partially yanked along until I can regain my footing.

We head around the back, far away from anyone who'd hear me if I made a sound before he killed me. I don't protest. My back connects with the brick wall a second before my head.

Aya doesn't climb up into my air space, hollering at me. He stands back, this unreadable look in his eyes. "You never learn, do you?"

"If you're going to kill me anyway, can I at least get a clarification?" I throw in one of those helpless little grins that so infuriates him, despite my personal concern.

"I won't kill you if you never speak about this again, if you just forget about it all." He looks too serious again, too old for his age. I've never seen such a grave expression on any human being in my life.

"She said you were visiting Aya. What did she mean? You're Aya." I slump down against the wall now that the immediate danger has passed, still pushing things to the limit.

"It doesn't matter. What did I tell you?" His eyes are hard, his entire countenance bespeaking a mixture of violent and hateful reactions inside his head. "As far as I'm concerned, all you have to do is say that none of this happened, and it's all forgiven and forgotten."

That's quite a benevolent thing for Aya to do. He doesn't do either of those two things easily, forgiving OR forgetting. I'd much rather know what it is he's hiding though.

"It's not important!" His voice raises up to decibels I've never heard it reach before, frustration with a dash of anger, fear and apprehension. I've never seen him like this before. This is certainly a potentially hazardous situation for me; for all that he seems uninclined towards actually killing me.

"Why is it anything and everything about MY personal life and behavioral patterns are fair game, but you don't ever have to reveal anything or do or say anything you don't feel like?" I straighten up once more.

"It doesn't matter. All I have to say is, if you ever mention this to anyone ever, you're not just as good as dead, it'll be a fact." He threateningly fists the front of my shirt, twisting the expensive knit fabric.

"You can't kill me. Weiss needs me." I stick my chin up, baring my neck, just daring him. Not a good idea, but a chance I'm pretty sure won't break me this time. "If you don't give me even a hint of an explanation then I won't feel obliged to keep all of this to myself."

His fist raises for a second and I'm sure he's going to call my bluff before the arm lowers and he slams me back against the wall, turning away from me. "Her name is Aya, I'm just borrowing it. She's someone very important to me. She may never wake up." He turns back, eyes flat. "That's all there is. I don't have to tell you again that I'd willingly kill you if you endanger her."

My jaw drops as he stomps off. He deferred to me during this battle? Why? He could have just stomped off anyway. I talk a good game, but I'm more into privacy and respecting it than most people like to think. I watch in shock as he reenters the hospital.

Who is she then? A girlfriend? A relative? A mysterious love? Is she why he won't ever waste his time on anyone or anything else? I tread heavily over the asphalt back towards my own car, more confused than when this all started up.

Aya's not there when I get home several hours later, a definite problem. Omi tells me that he's already gotten us set up and booked for another job tonight. NO assassinations tonight, rather an infiltration into dangerous territory. If Aya isn't here we're going to have to rearrange all our plans. Omi's been trying to reach his cell phone for hours.

"Youji, he's not going to show. If we want to make it in time we have to leave now." Omi tugs on my sleeve, trying to recapture my wandering attention. "You're going to have to be our decoy, our forerunner. Aya isn't here to do it, and I'm needed for the computer hacking, and Ken isn't as quite as either you or Aya."

I grimace and rake a hand through my hair, tying it back. "I don't know if this is such a good idea. Why can't we cancel? This is some of the worst shit we're about to face, and with one of us missing, it's that much harder. If we piss off these guys and they catch us at it, we're in some serious shit."

"We're talking about two of the most influential powers in this country. If you fuck with either one then you've got the whole world after you." Ken explains wearily. "There isn't the option of backing down in this case. We're just going to have to make do."

Sighing, I heave myself to my feet. This should be fun. Short a member for one of the most dangerous assignments we've been on since loosing our old management, and walking in virtually blind. The information was actually so heavily protected that even Omi couldn't get to it. All we have is a blueprint of the building and general layouts of important locations.

I pause to smoke as much of a cigarette as I can get in before I absolutely have to get in the car, Ken playing chauffer once again. I flick the half smoked cigarette out the window and lean back into the car seat's leather embrace.

We cruise through the night, the only living creatures on the go at this hour, unseen and unexpected. The car is parked a few blocks away from our final destination; Ken even puts money in the meter, conscientious person that he is. Does he honestly think there are meter readers out and about in the middle of the night, going around checking cars with a flashlight?

There is a smattering of lights on in the towering office building, overworked employees perhaps. We each head for our respective entrances, prepared to make our efforts count. Damn Aya for being the secretive temperamental son of a bitch that he is!

I carefully slice the wires of the alarm, picking the lock and letting myself into the massive office building through the janitorial entrance. I pry open the elevator doors and climb up the cable, stopping and using the jack to recreate an entrance for myself when I reach the top floor.

Mine is the most dangerous part of our plan of attack. I'm trapped up here on the very top, charged with providing the distraction by any means necessary. It's mostly going to be me breaking things, setting off alarms and killing people like mad; hoping the whole while through that I manage to survive. I don't know how Aya does it.

I perch on top of a hallway radiator and wait for the signal from my cohorts.

"In position." I hear Ken's voice. Another five minutes pass.

"All ready then?" Omi inquires softly.

"All ready." I confirm into my wrist unit. I swing down, feeling lanky and graceful all of a sudden, and grateful for the boost, knowing I'll certainly need it! I spot the nearby fire alarm and break the glass, carefully removing the axe before swinging it full strength into the alarm beside the case. The alarm is instant and deafening.

Within minutes I hear heavy footsteps pounding up the stairs, can hear the whirr of the approaching elevator. Here we go, the moment of truth where I prove to myself yet again why it is that Aya usually does this, and not me. I heft the axe. Much more effective in close quarters.

There are only about seven. All armed, but still only seven. No match for me and my trusty "fire axe". They don't see me, hiding in the shadows as I am. Even though my pale hair is usually a give away, luck is with me. The next few minutes pass as a gory bloody massacre.

They aren't well trained at all; for all that they have unifying clothing and weapons. Not a fleet then. Most of them freeze in shock when the wide blade sinks into their torso, before slumping against the wall and either loosing consciousness or just slowly bleeding to death. This is simple. Much too simple.

I'm not surprised at all when the real pros show up. This is good. It means Ken and Omi have a clear shot. The more after me the better. The quarters are too close for them to pull out their guns. It all boils down to desperate hand-to-hand combat.

They've all got height and weight on me, but I've got raw talent and drilled in skill to work in my favor. They get smart quickly and work on keeping me surrounded and off balance. I told you they were professionals.

A foot hits me in the back even as I manage to sink the axe into the face of another identity less opponent. The weapon is wrenched out of my hands as I hit the wall. I whirl, looking around the dark hallway for my one defense against my enemy. Shit! I can't see where it went.

I just manage to roll out of the way of a speeding fist, kicking off the wall and landing on my feet in a defensive crouch. I quickly go into a frenzy of kicks and punches, tying to stave off the quickly growing numbers. I am Screwed, with a capital 'S'. How does Aya manage?

"Come in. All units come in. I'm finished. Time to move out." Omi's voice shrills in my ear, almost causing me to break my stride. Ken's voice responds with a similar reply.

Around me the air is silent but for the sounds of flesh against flesh and harsh angry breaths. I'm going to die. I realize that with a sudden aching snap of realization. There are too many of them, I can't stop to call for help. I don't have a weapon and I'm getting the shit knocked out of me.

With a last desperate hope I hurl myself towards the still open elevator doors, thinking hope against hope that there's a chance I can still get inside the box itself and get the doors closed. Please let this work.

I reach the elevator all right, but they pull me back long before I can even hit a single button. The rest of my savage beating is mercifully drowned out by static in my head. I never fully lose consciousness and must remain awake and semi-coherent.

It's that final blow to the head that has me finally unconscious. Gee, I thought this was the point where my comrades were supposed to rush to my rescue. My mind blanks and I sink into the painless darkness, knowing I may very well never open my eyes again.





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Haha! I fooooooooooooled you! There you were thinking this would quickly turn into some sort of juicy lemon! Well, mwah on you! This is an attempt at quasi-realistic characterization, and most real people don't just up and boink like bunnies at the drop of a hat because some fanfiction writing dope wants them to. You'll get your lemons though, just stick around. akainobaka@mchsi.com or darkhunter@ijustdontcare.com Concerns? Questions? Lemmee know, I don't bite!! Hard! Heehee ^_^