Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Guilty Pleasures ❯ Chapter 1 ( Chapter 1 )

Title: Guilty Pleasures (1/?)

Author: Phaedra

Email: pkabyssinian@yahoo.com

Rating: ?? Warnings for foul language, that's about it for now.

Pairings: Schu x Aya. Maybe, eventually, Schu x Aya x Yohji?

Disclaimer: I don't own them. I own shoes, but not Schu…. does that count? If you sue me for misrepresenting the characters I'll give you my shoes. =)

Authors Notes: Well, this is an experiment in playing with Schu AND switching between POV's. Will it suck? Let's take the ride and find out! Comments and criticism always welcome.

~*~

[Schuldich, present]

If there is one thing Crawford is always bitching about it's the fact that I get lazy. I need to focus, be prepared, and the worst one is when he tells me to act more like Nagi. What? Like I've got the mini-Crawford stick up my ass? No thanks.

Well, for once it looks like ole Crawdaddy was right in his estimation of me, I got lazy and it got me busted. That damn Weiss managed to knock me out right after Abyssinian used the handle of his wicked katana to flatten Crawford, effectively eliminating his prescience. Great. Just fucking wonderful. The crimson haired leader of Weiss has the remarkable ability to block my probes and keep his thoughts his own. So with an amazing economy of motion he bonked Crawford into la-la land, sheathed his sword, and used the now harmless blade to whack me in the back of my head. I felt the lacquered wood connect with the base of my skull, saw my favorite pair of shades goes flying, and then the darkness claimed me.

When I woke up I thought for a moment I was stuck in Farfarello's mind again, all the white around me. However, instead of being able to dislodge myself and see my familiar room I noticed I was strapped to a bed. If there had been a pretty body near me I wouldn't have minded, kinky is OK. My head was killing me and the pain was making it impossible to block out the people around me, their thoughts and to a lesser extent their feelings, were bombarding me, overwhelming me. I was caught in the rough undertow of their personalities and I found myself gasping for air.

I must have been struggling, which made the unfamiliar and foreign faces swirl and spin before me. Nausea surges in the pit of my stomach and I am unable to tell top from bottom. Then I was out again and blissfully no thoughts could reach me, not even my own.

The second time I woke up I was alone. I was ready to thank any God that came to mind for this miracle before I noticed all the little wires hooked up to me. Lucky for me that I have two wonderful gifts: the ability to control my body and to be double jointed. The last one is useful for better bed pursuits than what I would be using it for, but beggars can't be choosers.

While 'bringing myself to my center' (as the damn instructors called it) I relaxed my body and allowed my right hand to fold in upon itself. Carefully I began working it out of the padded cuff that was firmly encircling my wrist, all without changing my breathing or heart rate, which might alert my dear captors. I was dying for my only real vice - a cigarette so I distracted myself the best I could by examining the new and wonderful situation I had found myself in.

If the feisty kittens had captured me, then that must mean that Kritiker had finally taken an interest in us. The sophisticated equipment attached to various parts of my body hinted that they were interested in our less than 'normal' skills as well as being curious as to what made us such an effective team. Oracle and Prodigy were both curious as to when they would realize that our ability to wreak havoc on their, and similar, organizations was due to more than luck and training. Took them long enough.

I crack one eye open and noticed that my hand was almost free, I just had to compress my knuckles a bit more and my arm would be released. One more deep breath and a quick yank later I was as good as free. Here's for hoping that they don't have any cameras installed yet!

Mere moments and I am using a sliver of part of one of Kritker's expensive machines to pick the door lock. How lax is this place? No guards in the hall and a sense of quiet that bodes well for me. My brain is still a bit foggy from the drugs but not enough to completely dampen my abilities, my mind brushes against a technician who is fantasizing about her co-worker and I steal the information I need to be able to successfully navigate this maze of a building.

I try scanning ahead of me to see if the way is as clear as I think it is. The damn drugs are working against me now; I can sense others in the building but not well enough to pinpoint them. Fuck! Oh, well - nothing ventured, nothing gained.

I slip barefoot down the hallway, ghosting close to the wall and still trying to force my brain to pick up any potential threats before my eyes can. I hate running blind like this, although it is infinitely preferable to being overloaded. As I fly through another numberless, identical door I see a tall blond man turn to face me. He is well armed and obviously able to kick my ass, considering the poor condition I find myself in. He looks like a regular Kritiker guard, maybe a drop out for one of their assassin groups. I try to worm my way into his brain and change his perception but all I manage to do it make him hyper aware of me.

I aim a kick at his midsection and am made horribly aware of how weak I am. Between the recent head wound, being drugged to my gills, and going through a mental breakdown I am unable to handle myself with normal efficiency. I'm too slow and my reflexes aren't kicking in the way they should. Blondie pulls out a night stick and feints to my left while his right foot is soaring toward my temple. I duck it, barely, and make a beeline for the door behind him.

My mistake and a telling one. He is able to knock my legs out from under me with his stick and a one hand takes a firm grip on my ankle. His long hair, pulled back in a neat pony tail, spills over his shoulder as he leans down towards me. I lash out with both legs and manage to knock him backward, enough that he is forced to let go of my leg. I am able to faintly pick up what he is planning next but it isn't enough as he thrusts his stick into my solar plexus. I make a harsh gagging noise before falling to my knees and curling over my abused midsection.

I am hauled roughly to my feet before my dry heaves have finished and I'm not sure if I'm going to be able take much more abuse. I continue to gag reflexively until my body understands that it isn't going to do me any good. Blondie is rougher than he needs to be until reinforcements take me from him and forcibly drag me back to my room. I don't get normal restraint cuffs this time; they break out the hardware and handcuff me to the bed, both hands and feet. On top of that I get an in room guard. Are they really that stupid? Looks like they are and I smirk and blow kisses at the man who is tightening my restraints. Maybe they'll leave another person as well? No, well, one is enough.

I lie in a half sleep for the next day or so. I need to let my mind clear before my next plan will work; I also need to work out the guard rotation schedule. My next escape will have to be in the middle of a shift. That way I have plenty of time to get away but who ever is keeping an eye on me will be feeling complacent. Especially since I've been acting drugged for several days.

I choose to abuse Suharu, she is pretty little thing that takes her job less seriously than she should. She also likes to daydream about how she is going to make enough money here to leave Japan and live in Monaco. It is simple enough to twist her mind at the appropriate time and mentally force her to undo my restraints. After that I take her gun and wipe her mind. Poor Suharu will be trapped in a false dream of living on her houseboat in Monaco. See, I'm not such a bastard.

I frisk her for another set of keys and find only the two small ones that release me and open the door to my room. Hell's bells, maybe I'll get lucky and this will be a master key. Hey, a guy can be hopeful, can't he? No? Fuck you. And no wisecracks about me getting lucky.

This time my brain is operating at peak efficiency and I can hear each little murmured thought as it fires in every mind in the building. There are at four guards ahead, with another three in easy reach. Seven against one aren't the best odds, but if I'm lucky they'll be sloppy. Of course, I'm rarely that lucky unless I have backup. I can hear Crawford parroting in the back of my head that Farfie could take down those five men and two women without even breaking a sweat. It pisses me off, which is good.

I feel the adrenaline pumping through me as I burst through the door. Blondie is in the forefront; his long hair is loose tonight and gleams in the half-light and he looks surprised to see me. Good, because I have a special gift for him. My mind slams into his moments before I drive my fist into his stomach. He doubles over from the twin pains and I laugh with the joy of it. I revel in his nausea, his weak mental pleas to God, Kami-sama, to save him.

I spin, light as a leaf caught in the wind, and backhand the woman nearest to me. My bones are singing and I feel electric, the whole reason I got into the business I'm in in the first place. She falls like a stone. A burly man steps up to take her place and I 'hear' three others planning to jump me at once. I laugh again before I pull the gun out of the waistband of my pants. I shoot the burly man and rapid fire four more shots at the group of three.

The final woman is sobbing in the corner, I ignore her. Weakness truly is as disgusting as Crawford makes it out to be. I hit two of the three attackers, but not fatally. The third looks like he was grazed by the bullet but is still standing. He makes a lunge at me, but shock is making him slow and I easily dodge him. I hit him near the temple with the butt of the gun and he crumples.

I turn lazily toward the door which I know leads to me freedom. My hand grasps the handle and gives it a quick a twist, I can smell the fresh air, and my world slowly slides into oblivion. All I can think is: 'again'.

When I awaken I am once more ensconced in a new white room. Hospital white is a color that makes me want to puke, maybe because being in one is always bad news for someone in my profession. I am chained to the bed again and there is an IV attached to my arm, no doubt it has something that will keep me slightly sedated and slightly non-telepathic. Got to give it to Kritiker, they at least learn from their many mistakes.

I am being watched. Near the ceiling is a large plate glass window that allows me to see those who monitor me. The final woman from the seven guards is standing near the right hand corner. She notices my attention and flips me off. Bitch. I give her a sexy smile and wink, I'll bet she's blushing. I am shirtless and it feels like there is soft pajama pants covering me from the waist down. I arch my back for the female guard's gaze, showing off my body.

Last time I underestimate a woman. Should have known she was giving me crocodile tears until my back was turned, then she blind-sided me. Tricky beasts, the female of the species.

I can't sense anything with my telepathy and my limited empathy is dependent on the main talent working. I know that the rest of Schwartz won't come get me, Crawford was very clear on that… if any of us, including him, were captured we were on our own. If we could break loose we were to go to the safe house in Ibaraki and wait to be picked up, debriefed, and tested to see if we were still loyal to the organization. Crawford can be a real fuck about things.

Without my talent working I am forced to wonder how I will attempt to get away this time. I'll have to fake an adverse reaction to whatever their giving me and hope they'll stop drugging me long enough to get a tweak of my power back. Problems breathing should do it, couple that with a fast pulse and they'll have to yank the meds unless they want me to die while in their hands. Somehow I doubt that or I wouldn't have woken up again.

They say that third times a charm, right? Let's hope so.

That's my last conscious thought before I work at speeding up my heart rate and I begin to gasp for air. My body is having fits and I'm just along for the ride through it. I can hear the warning bleeps from the machines and I think I hear worried voices. There are hands soothing over me and through it all I notice the prick of a needle breaking my skin. There is a coolness in the area where they injected me and whatever it is it's slowing my pulse. I think it might be a counteragent to whatever was in the IV because I'm picking up stray thoughts but not with any accuracy or precision.

If this keeps up I might actually make it out this time. It's heartening to know that I'm not completely useless, I can still think my way out of tight situations. My heart is almost back to it's normal skipping rhythm and I take the chance of calming my heaving breaths. The doctors that are hovering like worried birds are slowly backing off, no doubt congratulating themselves on saving me. Assholes.

A severe looking woman wanders into my line of sight. My eyes glaze slightly, lending credence to my 'near death experience' and I do my best not to smirk and leer at her. Her medium length brown hair is pulled back in a loose and sloppy french twist with a few straggling pieces of hair framing her face. She watches me for a moment before beaming gently at me and slowly clapping her hands.

Needless to say, I'm baffled. Without my telepathy to reveal her inner thoughts I am unable to fathom the reasoning behind her actions. She walks slowly over to my side and looks down on me with inscrutable black eyes. Her inky gaze flicks towards the doctors and they quickly vacate my room. Hmm, I'm impressed; she must be a head honcho around here.

"Guten abend, Schuldich. Was ist los?"(1) she asks me in accented German. Like she's my fucking friend or something. I keep the glazed look and slide my eyes across the room like I can't hear her. With a strength that I wouldn't have guessed she had she turns my face toward her and her fingers feel like their bruising my chin.

"I liked you're littling show, but it's over now. Stop fake it. If you're keep this up I would be forced to do something that you won't be liking. Now, I will like to ask you to co-operate with us," she continues, still in her bad German. The grammar is atrocious and I decide to mess with her a little.

"You know I can't divulge any information, especially anything that might endanger my team or my employer," I tell her slowly in perfect Japanese. I see her eyes narrow in frustration and silver flashes of thoughts are leaking out from behind her eyes. She despises me, she wants to hurt me, she wants to use something against me. I'm still not catching everything and I know I'm giving her a confused look.

"You're Japanese is flawless, Mastermind," she growls, using my code name. Fuck, she's got to be one of the higher ups in Kritiker to know both of my names. I'll shit lead bricks if she knows my real name. Not even my teammates know it, not even Estet.

I smile ingratiatingly at her before wetting my lips with my tongue. She watches my every move, as if I'm dangerous, I like that. I consider blowing a kiss at her but she looks like the type that would take offense. Pity, I could have fun with her.

"I'm sorry, I don't know you're name pretty lady. Perhaps you could enlighten me?" I ask her, hoping she'll stop being angry and scared so I can peep further into her mind.

"Like hell," she whispers, but her mind has offered up the information like a blooming flower.

"That's a shame, Birman. I believe that we could enjoy each other if you'd loosen up a little," I offer nonchalantly. Her eyes widen in shock and she actually takes a step back from me. She wasn't expecting my telepathy to have returned so soon, I'll probably pay the price for giving her the knowledge.

"Hmm, either you're a liar or you really are gifted with telepathy. Which is it? I would like to offer you a trade in information… if you are able to make such decisions on your own that is," Birman tells me smoothly. I almost breathe a sigh of relief that she doesn't, entirely, believe that I can read minds.

"Darling, tell me what you're idea of an information exchange is and I'll tell you if I can do it. I am not going to play guessing games with you as you wouldn't be here if you were higher in Kritiker's totem pole," I tell her with a sardonic sneer. I refuse to allow this woman to get to me. Just to be obnoxious I switch into German, the dialect from where I grew up and I can tell she doesn't understand all of it. She actually begins to silently mouth the last part of my sentence trying to interpret it.

I repeat what I said in Japanese, using the local dialect from where she grew up. Her eyes narrow this time as she mentally begins to change her opinion of me. I'm going for the total asshole award and I repeat it one more time in French. I know she doesn't know that language at all and she blushes with anger.

"Since I obviously don't merit your attention as I am not prestigious enough for you, I will try to find someone who meets your stringent qualification," she tells me stiffly before spinning on one heel and leaving. The doctors come rushing back in to poke and prod at me; I let them do it without trying to disturb them. I'm too busy filtering through the top most layer of Birman's mind.

I smirk in pleasure, in anticipation. She is thinking dark thoughts that center around one of her lap dog assassins 'taking care' of me. I am too valuable for Kritiker to allow that, her offering me an exchange is proof of that. Her mind also reveals what the security arraignments on me will be. I think I can make another try to get out tonight, if my mind is working properly that is.

I sleep a little, trying to build up my strength. I've been through too many beatings over too short a period of time. I'm not sure if my body will obey me but I have to try. Cages don't settle well with me. Farf would feel right at home however. Well, maybe if he could bathe in the blood of his captors and scream obscenities at God at the same time.

At midnight the lady guard from before is allowed into the room. Supposedly she is here to check to make sure I am still securely fastened to the bed, but I can hear her need to gloat at me. She is also attracted to me; I'm just too damn sexy for my own good. I feed that thread of passion until she is practically drooling over me. I'm such a dog.

"I like you watching me," I whisper at her. My words open the floodgate of her mind and I can pick and choose what I need from her. She presses the key to my cuffs into my hands and goes back up to booth, just like I want her too. Once she is up there she turns off the lights and I have maybe fifteen minutes tops to get the hell out of the room.

I am winded by the time I reach the outer hallway. I don't think I'm going to make it, I won't be able to put up any sort of reasonable fight. I'm not sure what's going on, I feel disconnected and disjointed. My telepathy is cutting out on me. I must have taken more damage than I thought, both from Blondie's kind attention and my fake reaction. I always wonder why I do the dumb ass things that I do; I never answer myself however.

Remembering the tall blond who most likely has a vendetta against me now makes me groan internally. If Blondie has recovered I'm screwed. I try not to think about it as I near the last leg of my escape. I throw open the penultimate door to my freedom and I send out a telepathic blast that should mind scramble anyone on the other side. I am so lucky that it worked on the guards in here, one is actually drooling from the blast. Damn, I'm good!

My hand twists the door handle and I'm overwhelmed by déjà vu, but I'm not an Oracle, I'm not supposed to pay attention to my hunches. I step out into the dark night and a shadow detaches itself to face me. My stomach sinks as my probe is deflected. I know who this is; there are only a handful of people that are able to block my powers. This has to be Abyssinian. As the thought enters my mind I see his crimson hair flash in the almost non-existent starlight.

His hands are outstretched before him, almost as if to reassure me that he is unarmed. Like that makes him any less dangerous. With my telepathy on the fritz I can't divine his moves before he makes them and I am lost. I open my own arms wide as if to hug him and I fall into his embrace. Aya is warm against my cheek and bare chest; I don't struggle as he picks me up. I'm weak, I'm captured, I don't want to be further abused. I think he understands that, as he is gentle with me. Perhaps he's bit of a telepath himself?

He carries me back into the building and I'm still aware enough to know that we are heading in the opposite direction of my hospital white room. I never would have expected the kitten to be so strong. I should be struggling, I know I should be. How can I? His presence is overwhelming me. What the hell is wrong with me?

He takes me to a sparsely furnished room and places me on a bed that has no side rails and no restraints. With a tenderness I don't understand he brushes my orange locks off of my face and covers me with a soft blanket.

"Sleep now, we'll talk in the morning," he tells me. His voice is deep and rich and it soothes me as I slip into a dreamless sleep. I try one last mind probe that is, of course, deflected; I give up and slumber.