Warnings: Violence, Gore, Horror, Slash

Disclaimer: I do not own the lovely, haunted bishies in Weiss Kreuz. This is a non-profit attempt to make them even lovelier (eventually stripping them naked at least by implication) and more haunted (in the literal sense). So don't sue!

AN: I've got a bunch of other projects I should be working on and I'm insecure (OK, even MORE insecure than normal) about both the pairing and about writing horror. So, I'm not sure how quickly this will be updated…

Pairings: Aya x Ken, possible slight Youji x Omi.

Gerechtigkeit für die Toten

by Xellas M.

"Target spotted. I'm going in. Siberian out." Ken whispered into his headset, taking one final glance to reassure himself that everything was in order.

Which it was, a little too much so. Ken knelt in the grass, peering in the large window of the spacious master bedroom of a typical upper-middle class house. The dark beast within slept motionless, somewhat like the stuffed animals displayed throughout his house, but even more like the stuffed humans reportedly posed in the locked secret room in his basement.

Through the years Ken had witnessed many of his targets sleeping and it never failed to amaze him that the worst of them always slept the most peacefully. It consoled him in a morbid way; the members of Weiss all had their share of nightmares.

Time to act. Adrenaline coursed through the assassin's veins as he crashed through the target's bedroom window. Stealth had never been one of Ken's assets. In truth, he preferred his victims to see him coming. He figured it was what their own victims would have asked for, if any still had the ability to speak. It was what those students, stuffed in the cold and damp basement of a professor they had respected and trusted, would have chosen.

The crashing sound of the breaking glass woke up the victim. Disoriented and frightened, the Professor Gewissenhaft looked like any other respectable elderly man. A full head of silver hair, the kind Ken hoped himself to have one day, was sticking up at undignified angles from sleep and the lines on his handsome face told of a man who smiled often and freely. If experience had taught Ken anything, it was that appearances were deceiving.

"What do you want?" The target asked, sitting up and scooting as far back on the bed as he possibly could. His pale blue eyes squinted nearsightedly at Ken's bugnuks and he pulled the blankets up over his chest as through they would protect him from the blades.

"They trusted you. You betrayed them. The price is your life." It was the part Ken hated more than any other, the terrible intimacy of this moment. Only one of them would leave this room alive and he would never speak of what happened at the end of this human being's life.

"No, you're mistaken, I -"

Ken did not bother to listen to the Professor's protests. He had heard the same before, from dozens of men and women. He approached the bed, moving neither quickly or slowly.

From the corner of his eye, he saw the shadow of his own clawed hand raise, then strike. It wasn't a clean blow; the target had managed to move aside at the last possible second. Instead of his throat, his shoulder and arm were laid open to the bone. Blood splattered on the sheets, the walls, and Ken. In his terror the man voided and the air became saturated with the stench of urine and blood.

The Professor stared into Ken's eyes in shock and terror as the next strike took his life.

* * * * *

"Ohayo, Ken-kun!"

It was Monday and Ken had the early shift. It was a small kindness the members of Weiss paid each other. Land the killing blow and you open the shop the next morning. That way, you have fewer hours to lie in bed thinking about what you have done. And almost every time, it was Omi who took the other morning shift. Even though Aya led on most missions, the young computer genius was the true leader of Weiss and he felt responsible for his team. It was sweet, but it always made Ken feel like he had to pass a chibi-Psych evaluation after every job.

"Morning, Omi!" Ken's reply was cheerful and only a little tired. Of all the assignments given Weiss, ones like the previous night's were easiest for the ex-soccer player. They had found no fewer than 15 dead bodies after breaking into the target's bizarre dollhouse. The more attractive corpses had been put to some truly horrifying uses. Ken shuddered. Heaven only knew how many others would have joined them if not for Weiss.

All thoughts of the previous evening faded as the pair began to get the shop ready for business. A special request had been placed for dozens of roses in an elaborate arrangement that had to be ready for pickup that afternoon. Ken set himself to de-thorning the flowers and left the more artistic job of creating the arrangement to Omi.

As he worked, Ken's mind drifted into a pleasant daydream. It was a bright, shining, warm day, the perfect setting for a championship game. The junior team he coached had managed to win their Division Championship against all odds, thanks to a miraculous save by Genrou, a fiery-haired boy he was particularly attached to but who had as of yet shown little real talent for the sport other than exceptional speed.

A slight stab of pain caused the coach to look downward, only to find that he had cut his thumb on his silver whistle and it had started to bleed. He ignored it. It was only a minor cut and could be taken care of later.

More importantly, Aya stood at the sidelines, watching proudly as the trophy was awarded. A warm smile graced the Weiss leader's face, promising a much more intimate celebration when the two were alone. Ken smiled back into amethyst eyes and pretended not to notice as the flock of excited children snuck up behind him with the traditional cooler of Gatorade poised to pour over his head.

Something shifted in his daydream. Clouds rolled in impossibly swiftly to darken the bright sunlight that had washed down on the perfect scene. The team's cheers turned to garbled shrieks of rage and the liquid they doused Ken with was cold enough to burn. He turned to Aya, hoping for an explanation, but the redhead had inexplicably changed into the robes and wig of a British judge and his gaze was even colder than the fluid that dripped down the Ken's spine.

The empty cooler was thrown aside and the kids tore at his clothing, ripping his shirt in perfect, parallel tracks along one arm. Ken again turned to Aya to beg for help in a voice he knew wouldn't be heard over the din and froze.

Standing with his arm draped in a friendly manner over Aya's shoulder was last night's target, complete with fresh wounds oozing blood onto the assassin's judicial robes. The redhead either did not notice or did not care. He was too busy staring at Ken with a look that went far beyond his normal coldness. It was pure hatred.

"…blood everywhere!" Omi's voice, shocked and concerned, worked its way into Ken's daydream.

Omi? Dazed, Ken looked around for his team member. If anyone could make sense of this, Bombay could. Only, something seemed to be obscuring his vision.

"Ken-kun, are you alright? Say something!" The blond was frantically waving his hand in front of Ken's eyes.

The soccer coach snapped out of it. "I'm fine." He managed weakly, even as he looked down and noticed that he had impaled his thumb on an exceptionally sharp thorn. It had been bleeding long and heavily enough for some of the thick crimson drops to be running from the table to the floor.

"What's going on?" A low, irritated voice announced Aya's arrival.

"It's Ken-kun. I tried for 15 minutes to get his attention and he just stood there bleeding on the floor. I'm really worried about him, Aya-kun."

"Hn." The redhead's response was considering, but lacked any of the warmth of Ken's dream-Aya. Which was only to be expected. No matter what he was to Aya in his private dreams, in reality he held no importance to the older assassin beyond that of another team member and a somewhat flaky one at that.

"I think we should take him to the doctor." Omi continued, seriously.

"He seemed alright yesterday." Abyssinian countered. If Ken went to one of Krikiter's doctors, the entire team would be pulled from any missions for at least two weeks, a standard precaution.

"Guys, HE is right here and HE is fine, thank you." Ken snapped in irritation, holding a towel to his bleeding thumb. He ignored the openly doubtful glance his teammates exchanged. "What are you doing here so early, anyway?" He asked, glaring resentfully at the new arrival.

"It is the first day of the semester." Aya reminded him emotionlessly.

Ken blanched. The terror of his daydream paled in comparison to this! He glanced up at the clock. 07:23. The shop would open in seven minutes. In seven minutes -now only six!- a crowd of schoolgirls would be stampede through the door, hungry for their first glimpses of him and his co-workers in weeks.

"Ken-kun, are you *sure* you are OK?" Omi asked, insistently.

"Where the HELL is Youji?" He asked in reply. It would take all of them to defend the store from the girls. Even *Youji* wouldn't dare try to ditch today!

"He's fine. Let's get to work. Ken, clean up that mess." Aya ordered. Subject closed.

* * * * *

The expected stampede of fangirls came and went, but even their hyper cheerfulness couldn't quite shake the uneasy feeling that lingered from the dark-haired man's dream. Daydreams were supposed to be pleasant, happy little breaks from reality, not bloody and vicious reminders of it. It didn't help in the least that throughout the morning he caught Omi giving him concerned looks several times…and that Aya did not even glance his way so much as once.

As soon as the rush was over, Youji staggered upstairs for more sleep and the redhead left abruptly for destinations unknown. On his way out the door, Aya paused long enough to survey Ken critically and comment, "After your shift, get some sleep."

"Sure thing. Wouldn't want you to miss out on a paycheck or two now, would we?" He retorted to the man's retreating back. Of course, he made sure his words were too quiet to be heard.

Still grumbling quietly about Aya, the fangirls, the shop, and whatever else sprang to mind, he started counting out his drawer. Since when had it gotten so cold in the Koneko? Aya *never* let them spring for air-conditioning! He was three quarters of the way through the unusually large stack of bills when he heard the soft chime that indicated a customer had entered the shop, making him lose his count. He plastered a wooden smile on his face and glanced up, ready to be polite and helpful if it killed him.

The Professor stood in the doorway. Ken's assassin's eye noticed that the colors seemed wrong, far too pale and washed out to be real. He cast no shadow.

Ken shivered and looked away, convinced that it was only his imagination and that when he looked again, the apparition would be gone.

No such luck. The ghost still stared at him through hollow eyes. The temperature in the shop had now dropped to the point where Ken could see his own breath misting in the space between them. Like a nightmare, he was rooted to the spot, too terrified to move.

The sounds of Omi approaching from the back broke the spell. Gratefully, the petrified assassin tore his eyes from the specter, forcing words through a throat that seemed closed up in fear.

"Om-Omi! OMI!"

The young blond dropped the plant he had been carrying and went into full alert, rushing to his teammate's side. "Ken-kun! What is it?!"

"Th-there! D-don't you see him?!" Ken turned from Omi to the doorway, gesturing wildly.

The ghost had vanished.

"Ken-kun?"

"Ah…forget it. My mistake. I thought I saw…someone…" It wasn't the greatest, but it was the best the poor soccer coach could come up with on short notice.

Omi's big blue eyes widened in concern. "Ken-kun, why don't you go upstairs and lie down for awhile? I can handle the rest of this for today. Get some sleep."

For once, it didn't occur to Ken to be irritated by Omi's protectiveness. "Sleep, yeah. Sleep sounds good."

Zombie-like, he forced himself to climb the stairs, pausing only when he heard Omi exclaim, "And why in the nine hells is it so cold in here?"

Ken briefly considered answering, but instead he resumed his climb. The last thing he wanted was for the team to believe he was losing his mind. All he really needed was a good, long rest so that the nightmares would come when they were supposed to - while he was asleep.

* * * * *

~End Chapter 1

Is it horrible? Er, horrible in a *bad* way?