Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ New Rules, New Ruler ❯ Chapter 12

Part Twelve

The week was up. It was Sunday. It was now or never.

*Everyone clear? * Brad channelled through Schuldig. A series of affirmatives reached him. *Good. Nagi, go. Farfarello, in position. Schuldig? *

"I'm standing right here," the German whined.

"Fine! Schuldig?"

"Yes?"

Brad ground his teeth. Schuldig had been growing more and more vexing as the week went by. He seemed to be dealing with his anger at Brad by making Brad as angry as possible. Karma, thought Brad sourly.

Nagi slipped in through the basement window. He'd unlocked it using his powers. Clearly this group had never expected to be attacked by other members of SS. Taking advantage of his diminutive size, Nagi squeezed through a gap too narrow for a man even of Schuldig's stature.

The computer was exactly where the blueprints had said it should be. Well, where the power points shown on the blueprints implied it made sense for it to be. Nagi settled himself in the chair and began to type furiously, discs still lightly gripped between his teeth.

*Farfarello, Go. * Brad's voice echoing in his head, the Berserker walked straight through the front doors. Fortunately they were glass, so he only received light cuts, rather than the bruising and broken bones he might have received where they wooden or metal. The secretary on the desk shrieked and fainted. *Later, * Schuldig warned the Irishman. *Remember who we can't touch? *

*We can touch her, * Farfarello argued, continuing through the corridors. *She isn't him. *

*Oracle says no. * Farfarello sighed. *Don't worry. You're the distraction, remember? So distract. * Farfarello felt a smile slide up his face and a knife slide down his sleeve into the palm of his hand. Eeny, meeny, miny, mo…

"Schuldig, go."

Schuldig didn't even spare the thought to answer his boss. Closing his eyes, he began to search every mind in the building. He was still a little clumsy, though he was getting better. But for this, he was allowed to be clumsy. He was expected to be clumsy. People collapsed with headaches or stared around them in confusion as Schuldig passed over them like an angel of death.

For one man, his was more literal. The pyrokinetic was in one of the laboratories, randomly lighting Bunsen burners. Suddenly, he clutched his head. There was someone in there! There was… someone… something…what? Something… what… someone? He dropped to his knees. Part of him, a deeply buried still aware part of him, knew exactly what was happening and raged at his own inability to stop it. He could even name who was doing it.

"Schuldig!" The scream echoed through the building as everything that could burn did.

Nagi leapt back from the computer as the screen exploded. One disc. Would they be angry he only had one disc? Too late now. He made for the window, trying to find something not already on fire to use to climb up to it. There was nothing. The chair, the cupboards, the filing cabinet, the desk, even the door was on fire.

Farfarello heard Schuldig's screech of *Get out! * and paused to decide whether to heed it. He was having so much fun. And the fire reminded him of Dante's Inferno. His hands twitched as he stared back at the trail of bodies. They were all on fire. No exit that way. He set off down the corridor, towards the centre of the building.

Schuldig reeled back form the window. "Brad, the bastard…" He choked.

"I know." Crawford stared at the inferno. "Can you find the target?" Schuldig nodded weakly. "Can you bring him here?"

"No. His shielding is too good."

"Where is he?"

"This floor, other side of the building. Brad, you're not, you won't…" Crawford jumped through the broken window into the blazing building.

Nagi fought panic. No way out. Trapped. No way out. Trapped. No way out. Trapped. *Yeah, I got it the first time, kid. * Nagi jumped. *How are you for air? *

*The window's open, but it's so hot, * Nagi coughed pathetically.

*Nothing to stand on? * Schuldig's concern was seeping into his manner of thought.

*What's wrong? Schuldig, what else has happened? *

*You're trapped, chibi, * Schuldig tried to bluff.

*Schu, no kidding. Where are Brad and Farf? *

*Farfarello is looking for a way out. I think he's found a window, but it's a fair drop. *

*He'll be fine, * Nagi thought shortly. *What about Brad? *

*He went in. For the target. * Nagi's thoughts swirled around Schuldig, fear and sadness tinting everything. *Chibi, don't worry. He can take care of himself. *

*Yeah, but who's going to take care of us? *

Crawford clamped his handkerchief over his mouth as he fought through the rolling clouds of smoke. Schuldig was giving him directions, but Crawford got he impression he was trying to talk to the others at the same time, and correct guessing their predicaments were worse than his, Crawford made his own way as much as he could.

"Hello? Help!" A hoarse voice called from a locked room.

"Hang on!" Crawford called. It didn't matter if this man was the target or not, he at least deserved a chance. Crawford stared at the flaming door. "Stand away from the door!" He kicked. Te crackling wood splintered in a hundred directions.

It wasn't the target that came crawling out, but Crawford pointed him in the direction he had come. Crawford continued on. He took to using his gun to blow down locked doors with people behind, not caring that he was wasting bullets.

He was nearing the stairwell in the centre of the building when he ran into Farfarello. Crawford no longer had the faintest idea whether the root he had come in by was still safe, but he insisted Farfarello take it, with strict orders not to kill anyone he met on the way. The mission criteria had changed.

*They'll want as many alive as possible, since we can't get the data. Someone will know something, * Crawford reasoned, not realising the Schuldig was still maintaining the link.

*You don't have to justify it, * Nagi's weak mental voice came back. It's frailty alarmed Crawford.

*Kid's stuck in the basement, * Schuldig told him. *I'm at the window with Farfarello, but he's too far down. You keep going, we'll fish him out somehow. *

Crawford put thoughts of his teammates aside and concentrated on fulfilling the mission. He was about to step into another corridor when a voice from the bottom of the stairwell echoed up to him.

"Hey, mister, help us!" The English sounded odd in the surroundings. "Don't leave us to die!"

Against his will, Crawford ran down the stairwell. He realised the last flight was wooden. At the bottom sat a trembling group of people, which, to his relief, contained the target. He ran back up again. Rope.

*It's all up in smoke, * Schuldig informed him. *Do yourself a favour, get out now. Don't die. * the last two words were barely whispered, and something tugged at Brad's heart. Maybe he couldn't be angry at Schuldig any longer. Maybe he wouldn't get a chance to if he didn't get out soon.

Hope was failing him when, on entering a small room, saw, to his delight, a metal ladder leading to a loft area. It was screwed to the ceiling, but Brad pulled until the overheated plaster cracked away and the ladder was in his hands. Carrying it carefully back to the stairwell, he lowered it over the side.

The panicked people had to lift one another onto each other's shoulders to get up, and Brad couldn't hold the ladder with more than one at a time. They ran down the corridor he told them to, and he prayed it was still clear.

It took almost ten minutes and Crawford thought his arms would come out of their sockets. The only one left was the target.

"Go! I can't get up there!"

"No!" Crawford leant even further over the banister, until he felt his hips slipping on the hot metal and realised he was falling. He managed to catch one foot on the railing. "Climb!" He shouted, now the ladder was within easy reach of the target.

"Don't be stupid! We'll both die!"

"Climb," Crawford growled. His tone made it clear there was no option but to obey. The target caught the bottom rung in his hands and yelped. He began to shred his shirt, and wrap the rags around his hands, before starting to climb again. He reached the top of the ladder and continued to use Crawford's body for purchase. He climbed over the rail. And fled.

Brad hung there. He tried to drop the ladder, to ease the weight, but he couldn't let go. He hadn't even noticed the heat, but it seemed his skin had fused itself to the metal. One foot hooked around a railing that was bending with the heat and head over a furnace. His hair began to crackle. His glasses cracked.

Suddenly, a pair of strong arms grasped his waist. "Easy does it," someone muttered in German. The heat was making Brad feel dizzy.

Slowly he was raised back to the floor. Comforting, cool hands prized his own from the ladder, leaving large amounts of raw red skin behind. The same hands helped carry him down the corridor. "There's an ambulance waiting. You're going to be all over the news for this. You saved a lot of people." Brad crumpled in Schuldig's arms, allowing the younger man to lift him bodily and run through the flaming corridors unhindered by trailing legs and tired feet. Ever the showman, Schuldig leapt through a burning window to roll on the grass, Brad still in his arms. Handing him over to the ambulance crews, the German collapsed on the grass.

Nagi stared up at the face of Farfarello. He couldn't believe it would be the last thing he saw before he died. He'd already tossed up the disc. The door shattered under the weight of the flames outside, and the intensity of the heat in the room hit him like a wave. Nagi staggered.

"Can ye fly?" The Irishman asked suddenly, urgently.

"I dreamt I could," Nagi replied, just loud enough to be heard over the roaring of the flames.

"Dreams can come true," Farfarello told him.

"Look, I can't fly, okay! It's hard enough lifting anything, alive stuff is really hard, and things that know what're happening are almost impossible! I can't lift myself!" Nagi felt light headed.

"Have ye ever tried? It's only a metre or so, then I can get ye."

Nagi stared. What harm, could it do? If nothing else, the exhaustion such an attempt would result in would let him die faster.

"Ye don't weigh much, shouldn't be as hard as all that. Ye've lifted me before," The Irishman coaxed.

"Okay." Nagi gave in.

he raised his hands above his head and stepped as close to the wall as he dared. The les he had to do the better. Okay, jump. Jump. Jump! JUMP! Hold it, hold it, little higher, little more, hold it, little more…

"Got ye!" Farfarello shouted exultantly. Nagi struggled to remain conscious and help Farfarello pull him through the window. Once through, he had no compunctions about collapsing on the grass to become someone else's problem.