Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Mind Games and Coffee ❯ chapter four ( Chapter 4 )

Disclaimer: Weiss Kreuz is not mine. All its characters and affiliates are also not mine. Nothing involving Weiss Kreuz is mine. Sadly this is true.

 

Author Notes: Sorry about the delay. Life got hectic for a while. I had some writer's block with this chapter also. It was like the scene from Secret Window (for those who have seen it), where Johnny Depp was sitting at the computer going `no more bad writing' and just deletes everything. Also I read a bunch of Farfarello fics while writing this and the influence is noticeable. I just had to play with him a bit. Not sure where some of this chapter came from. I started it and then just went off on all these tangents. I would go back and read and be like where in the world did this come from. But I got it together and here it is chapter four.

 

Oh yes! I'm please with how well die Großmutter went over. Thanks to everyone who reviewed.

 

Review Responses:

 

Meandering - Gomen! I didn't mean for it to take so long. Life just got in the way. I have a few more chapters written after this one, so hopefully I will be updating again soon. I'm glad you liked Großmutter. She cracks me up.

 

Beysie - Schuldig's revenge may have been extreme, but he's an extreme person. Plus he just likes to be a bastard sometimes. ^_^

 

 

 

~telepathy~ aka communicating

/thoughts/ aka Schuldig reading someone's mind

 

German Words:

 

Verdammt - Dammit

 

Mein Gott - My God

 

 

Chapter Four:

 

 

 

 

The meeting with Takatori was not going well, at least for a certain redhead. Schuldig was seething. The politician was attending a business dinner with several other lofty individuals, and had wanted Schwarz there as a show of power. Takatori fully enjoyed flaunting his new `toys'. As beneath them as the whole task was, the little dinner party wasn't what had Schuldig so livid. He was used to boring bodyguard duty. It was Takatori's thoughts that were riling the telepath.

 

~He's doing it again,~ snapped the irate German.

 

~Just ignore it,~ replied Crawford sternly.

 

~How am I supposed to do that? I am supposed to be keeping an eye on his thoughts, am I not?~ Schuldig hissed through the mental bond.

 

On the outside the assassins looked calm, if not bored. Crawford stood respectfully behind Takatori's chair, but not so close as to appear looming. The light glinted off his glasses concealing his eyes from those at the table. Schuldig slouched on the window seal directly across from the American, smoking a cigarette. The evening sunlight created a fiery halo around his head. Nagi sat in the far corner of the private dinning area furiously typing away on his laptop. Farfarello leaned against the wall beside the hacker, admiring the way Schuldig could pass for a fallen angel. He puzzled over whether the comparison alone could hurt God. Schuldig's existence surely had to hurt God, as did the rest of Schwarz. Maybe if Estet found the key to immortality, and Schwarz stole it, God would just curl up and die. From there Farfarello's thoughts continued to circle around how to desecrate the great liar. As for Takatori, he sat at a round table with five other influential people, completely oblivious to the mental conversation going on.

 

~Just focus on anything useful to us,~ sighed Crawford to the telepath.

 

~You know that's not how it works,~ Schuldig growled mentally, ~whatever he is actively thinking I'm going to pick up by default.~

 

~We won't be here much longer.~

 

~Can't I kill him?~ pleaded the telepath.

 

~No.~

 

~Can I at least go throw up.~

 

~Schuldig…~ Brad gave a long suffering sigh.

 

~Hey, you're not the one who has to deal with this! Shall I send some of the mental pictures to you! Verdammt! At least let me wrench these ideas out of his head,~ Schuldig finally pleaded. ~Mien Gott, I don't even think I bend that way!~

 

From the moment Takatori had laid eyes on the German, he had more than business in mind. The Japanese tycoon enjoyed beautiful things, and most of all he enjoyed having power over beautiful things. In his mind Schwarz were his property, and Schuldig was icing on the cake. Takatori wasn't paying much attention to the conversation of the table, but instead he was covertly staring at the redhead across from him. The sunlight had turned that lovely mane into molten lava that cascaded around his face and over his shoulders. That same light played across elegant features: piecing blue eyes, high cheekbones, and soft supple lips. Even beneath that hideous green coat, the politician could discern the slender and lithe frame. Takatori had so far been reluctant to proposition the assassin, as he was unsure of the German's true strength, but Estet had said he had full control of the group. It was only a matter of time.

 

Oh, the things he would do to the pretty redhead. Perhaps tie those slender wrists with silken ropes, and lay him among black satin sheets. Throw those impossibly long legs over his shoulders and fold him practically in half. Maybe the politician would just send the other teammates out of the office and take the German bent over the desk. Stroking the pale flesh till he screamed. Would he scream? Would he cry out? Would he moan like a wanton whore? Takatori had heard the redhead was somewhat of a slut, that he went out to clubs and bars and didn't come home till the next day. Takatori didn't mind that, he would teach the German who owned him.

 

~Brad that's it! I'm killing him! Own me indeed. Like I would submit to such a weak mind,~ Schuldig yelled into Crawford's mind.

 

~Calm yourself Mastermind! You can not kill our employer,~ said Crawford more forcefully than intended before regaining his mental composure. ~Don't worry it's not going to happen.~

 

~How can you be sure?~ argued the enraged telepath. ~It wouldn't be the first time those Estet bastards have used the bedroom to gain an advantage. It wouldn't be the first time they've…~

 

~There is a difference this time Schuldig.~

 

~What?~ sneered Schuldig.

 

~You are a part of Schwarz and we take care of our own. Remember Schuldig one day Estet will fall before us.~

 

~And until then who will keep Takatori at bay? As long as we are playing the nice lapdogs for Estet, I'm not allowed to fuck up his mind, or at least until he's of no further use to them.~

 

~I'm not going to let anything happen to our team.~ Schuldig barely caught the `you' before the thought was drawn behind the clairvoyant's shields. ~Have I ever given you reason to doubt me?~ Crawford sought out Schuldig's eyes, locking their gaze.

 

~No,~ came the mental whisper as the German broke eye contact. ~You always take care of me,~ he said with a sigh, ~be careful Brad, I might just think you care.~ Schuldig's reply was colored with a smirk.

 

Crawford almost gave a physical snort and not just a mental one, but the telepath had a point. He always took it upon himself to look after Schuldig. When ever the redhead had a mental breakdown, and his shields were broken, Crawford put him back together. It wasn't that he just forced medication down the delirious German's throat either. He sat with the telepath, and strained his own mental barriers to protect Schuldig's helpless mind from the thoughts of the world.

 

When they had first met, Schuldig had still been fighting against the voices. Crawford had forced him to clean himself up and get stronger; he had foreseen the power the scrawny boy could wield. Once the little redhead had gone through withdrawal from various drugs, and had started eating again, Crawford had been amazed at Schuldig's appetite. At first the boy had been quiet and wary of the strange American, but soon he began to appreciate the company; his natural desire for attention coming through. He was intelligent in a crafty way, and life had left a malicious edge to his personality. Schuldig would be perfect for Crawford's plans.

 

The clairvoyant didn't worry about Schuldig hurting Takatori, yet. The telepath was loyal to Crawford, or at least to the plan for Estet's destruction, as were all of Schwarz. Brad had selected the other three assassins specifically to help him escape from the iron hold: Schuldig for his flippant disregard for authority, Farfarello for his destructive personality, Nagi for his intellect and disillusioned view of the world, and all of them for their potential for power.

 

Crawford would not give Takatori the opportunity to get to Schuldig. He would not allow the disruption of Schwarz. He would not allow anyone to disturb his vision of the future. Schwarz was his, Schuldig was his, and no one would interfere with this.

 

“Well gentlemen it is time I depart. I have a few more affairs to deal with before I call it a day,” said Takatori. Brad was pulled out of his reverie by the scraping of the old man's chair.

 

“Ah yes, the time certainly has gotten on,” announced one of Takatori's constituents also rising from the table.

 

As the businessmen said their goodbyes, Schwarz prepared to leave. Schuldig preformed a mental scan of the area, searching for possible threats, not that they expected any. After assuring the area was safe, the telepath gave a slight nod to Crawford, who then signaled Nagi and Farfarello to move. When Takatori made for the door the assassins fell in step with him. They exited the building with Crawford and Schuldig walking on either side of their employer, Nagi and Farfarello trailing a few steps behind. Schwarz stood as a human barrier on either side of the door, as Takatori got into his sleek black limo, and then entered themselves. Schuldig made sure to positioned himself so that, Crawford sat between him and the ambitious businessman.

 

The ride was not very long. Soon the Takatori building was looming over the limo. The imposing glass and steel construction no longer impressed the members of Schwarz, if it ever had. Upon seeing the building Brad was often reminded of Schuldig's first scathing remarks about Takatori's need for compensation.

 

Once outside the car, Takatori rushed up the steps, already on the cell phone with his secretary. At Crawford's more relaxed pace, Schwarz hung back. The Oracle seemed to stare off into space for a moment, a slight crease forming on his forehead. His return to the present was signaled by the removal of his glasses.

 

“Takatori will not need us for the remainder of the day,” stated Crawford while cleaning his glasses, which Schwarz knew was a habitual cover, allowing time for his vision to adjust after an unexpected vision. “Schuldig, go with Farfarello and get the car. Nagi, you will come with me for the official dismissal.”

 

“Why do I have to get the car,” whined Schuldig.

 

“Because I said so, now go do it, and keep an eye on Farfarello. Nagi and I shouldn't be but a few minutes,” Brad replied as he returned the thin frames to his face. He then started towards the entrance with Nagi trailing behind him.

 

“Feh, do I look like a chauffeur,” scoffed Schuldig.

 

“No,” replied Farfarello.

 

“Thank you,” huffed the irate redhead.

 

“You look like a German slut. Chauffeur would be a complement,” stated the madman while his golden gaze followed a group of school children.

 

“Least I don't look like I belong in an asylum.”

 

“May not look, but doesn't mean you don't belong,” Farfarello said as he slid a hand inside his vest; his pale fingers playing over the edge of a knife.

 

Schuldig followed the one eyed gaze to the children on the other side of the street. They were dressed in matching uniforms with shiny crosses around their necks. A Catholic school group perhaps, on their way to an evening mass. Girls in plaid skirts and knee socks skipped up the sidewalk with pony tails swinging, and gossiping about the boys in long shorts trailing behind them. Farfarello's cat-like eye followed a young Japanese girl near the front. Her long glossy hair was swept up into pigtails, and her dark eyes were squinted in laughter. A leather bound Bible was clutched to her chest.

 

/Death God Hurt Blood/

 

The Irishman's thoughts flowed through Schuldig. Farfarello's mind was like a hurricane, a red hurricane. A whirling chaos of destruction, all centering around one focal point: God. As insane as the Irishman could be, he could be just as lucid and focused. The man was extremely intelligent, but undeniably broken. Through Farfarello, Schuldig could see the schoolgirl, not as she was laughing with her friends, but as the madman would recreate her. For that is what he would do. He would take of God's creation and twist it into his. He would lay her upon a canvas of brick and stone, and then paint with her blood. He would strip the flesh from bone, and mold of the gore a gift for his God.

 

The telepath could easily be swept away by the strong mind beside him. He could follow in Farfarello's wake and not distinguish between whose hands did the carving. He could gorge himself on death while drenching himself in life's blood. For a moment even the jaded Schuldig could believe in a `God Almighty'. From somewhere outside of the swirling chaos came the brush of shields stronger than the German's could ever be. Schuldig gave his mind a good mental shake.

 

“Damn precog,” he muttered, “Oi, Farfarello!” said Schuldig snapping his fingers in front of the Berserker, “No.” A single golden eye swiveled to pinpoint the interruption.

 

“The loss of a sheep so young will hurt Him. The pain will rip apart his heart, and He will know that I still hear Him, that I still hunt Him.”

 

“Not now, we have to get the car. I'm sure Brad will let you go out later…” Schuldig stopped his retort as Farfarello turned to face him fully. Piercing gold met blue.

 

“I want to hurt Him now. I know that you were in here,” the Irishman said placing two fingers on his right temple. “You saw, you know. You can see the red like I do. You can feel the hunger that I do. You, who hear like God, help me bring the liar pain.”

 

Schuldig hated being the only one around when Farfarello got like this. When his hatred for God clouded his judgment and took forefront in his thoughts. The need to cause God pain had to be purged. Farfarello hadn't gotten the chance to kill anyone recently, and was sorely overdue. The telepath was only too aware, at times like these, how much physically stronger the Irishman was. Schuldig may have a slight height advantage, but he was willowy and built for speed, where as Farfarello was built like a predator. Since the psychopath didn't feel pain, nothing short of Schuldig frying his brain would slow him down either.

 

“There are too many witnesses. Later, you can hunt later,” Schuldig spoke evenly with a relaxed expression. Farfarello would jump all over any sign of weakness. The German let his mind rest gently against the madman's, exuding a sense of calm.

 

“Don't think I don't know what you're doing Guilty one,” Farfarello hissed and took a step closer to the redhead. “I can feel you in my head.”

 

Schuldig knew Farfarello was telling the truth. For some reason the telepath could never hide his presence from the Irishman. Maybe it was in the way Farfarello's mind worked. The man didn't feel pain after all; something was wired wrong up there. But Schuldig would bet everything he owned that the knife wielding assassin had some sort of twisted version of a talent.

 

“Knowing and stopping are to different things,” Schuldig smirked, “There are other ways to cause pain. Make God wait. Make him suffer the agony of not knowing when or who. He will twist and writhe on His throne while you string Him along.”

 

“You just don't want Crawford to yell at you,” chided Farfarello.

 

“There are better things to argue about than you, Farfie. But you have to admit my idea has promise. After all I am a master of games. Play games with God Farfarello. Play as the cat does with the mouse.”

 

“The cat will kill the mouse,” whispered the Irishman.

 

“Yes, and he will have fun doing it.”

 

“Then I will be the cat, and corrupt another of God's creatures.”

 

“I'm sure He cringes even now,” Schuldig grinned.

 

The Irishman gave a nod and turned his back to the flock of young sheep. Schuldig gave a mental sigh of relief that he would not have to pull out the plastic seat covers. He glanced again at the girl who had almost become Farfarello's masterpiece.

 

“Games with God. Would such an all powerful being even care about such an insignificant creature?” sneered Schuldig.

 

“God cares because she believes the lies He tells,” Farfarello said once more at the telepath's side.

 

“Such pretty thoughts…” said Schuldig softly, his eyes glazing slightly.

 

/Red/

 

“You hurt God Schuldig.”

 

“Do I now?”

 

“God doesn't like that you hear as He does. God doesn't like that the Guilty one possesses His gift.”

 

“Perhaps I should let your `God' know that I don't like him either.”

 

Across the street the children screamed. A nice red stain would mark the sidewalk and a nice uniform would be ruined. Glossy black pigtails would not sway in the ground. Doctors would say it was a violent aneurism. Schuldig, Farfarello, and his `God' would know better.

 

“Shall we get the car?” stated Schuldig indifferently.

 

“God cries.”

 

“Why, it's not that bad of a car, although, Brad could have at least gotten a less boring color. Who wants a beige car?”

 

“I thought you said later.”

 

“Red now that's a color for a car,” Schuldig rambled as he started for the parking garage.

 

“I like red,” agreed Farfarello.

 

~I know~ came the nasal reply in the Irishman's mind. ~Sometimes I like it just as much, but I might not later.~

 

The two assassins pulled the beige BMW around the front of the Takatori building just as Crawford and Nagi came out the door. This was no surprise to either of the occupants of the vehicle, as of course, Brad Crawford always had good timing. The man was never late or early; he arrived at the moment of best opportunity. That was the benefit of being such a powerful clairvoyant: the ability to see the future's endless possibilities and choose the best one.

 

For Brad the sight of police and an ambulance across the street was no surprise, thus he did not bother to spare it a moment's glance. He had traced the path of choices and events to this outcome. He had set the stage for the girl's death by having Schuldig stay outside with Farfarello. It was the only acceptable outcome, at least for Schwarz, and that is what mattered. Everything had worked out according to vision. Farfarello had gotten to hurt God, though indirectly. Schuldig was away from Takatori, and otherwise occupied, while Crawford would be able to tell the tycoon that Farfarello would be unstable, thus Schuldig was watching him.

 

Had all four assassins entered the building, Takatori would have initiated his plan of seeing Schuldig alone. Such a turn of events would only end badly, perhaps even bloody, if certain choices were made. The German was too much of a wild card to predict the end of this future. Brad did not like to take risks with uncertain variables. His stomach churned at the thought of the Japanese pig touching Schuldig. He would even admit, to himself, that the idea infuriated him. Had he always been possessive of the redhead? Brad couldn't say. But one thing was for sure, if the telepath didn't stop lounging around in shorts, Brad would never get any work done. The clairvoyant really didn't need the distraction.

 

 

 

Yay! Another chapter down. Like I said I don't know where some of this came from, but I think it turned out ok. Next chapter will have lots more of Schuldig flirting. See ya next time and as always reviews are greatly appreciated. ^_^

 

Solaras