Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ No Mercy ❯ Seeking ( Chapter 3 )

 

He had that feeling again. The one that said “turn around, he's behind you!” But, he wasn't going to give in. Not this time.

 

He always turned and always found nothing but darkness. Not again. He couldn't take it anymore, the moment of hope that flared in his heart only to be snuffed out by the tangible darkness.

 

It didn't matter that he could hear the whisper of a long leather trench coat. It didn't matter that he could feel the warmth he knew so well. It didn't matter that he could see the shadow cast in front of him of someone moving in the backlight. It didn't matter…

 

Aya closed his eyes. He inhaled deeply through his nose, breathing in the comforting scent of leather, sweat, and his scent. It didn't matter that he wasn't there. He could pretend and that would make it easier. Having Yohji at his back had always made it easier. Not that he'd ever told the man. He told himself that should he ever have the chance again, he'd do it right, but he wasn't sure that even that was a promise he could keep. Self expression really wasn't one of his strengths.

 

Another deep breath and he pushed it out of his mind. It didn't matter. There was a target to be eliminated; a damn near perfect mission plan to be executed.

 

That, in itself, was suspect. Never before had Kritiker planned their missions for them. They'd be given as much information as the organization had managed to glean and left to their own devices. Now, over the course of several months, they'd had no less than twelve extremely detailed mission plans hand delivered. Each plan accompanied by warnings of potential hazards and at least two contingencies based on anything from increased resistance to how the weather may affect the mission. Nothing worse than an assassin in squeaky shoes, right?

 

When questioned about it, Manx was evasive, saying only that they were not “required” to use the provided plan, but they should at least consider it as someone had gone to quite a bit of trouble to make it. That was typical Manx. She never told them anything she didn't believe they needed to know.

 

Still, this was just another in a recent string of mysteries and, like the others, it would have to wait.

 

“Abyssinian, you're clear. Go.”

 

Aya moved like a wraith from the shadows. Both guards were dead before either had even registered his presence. He kept moving in, toward the target. The man was frozen in fear, mouth agape, eyes wide. As Aya stalked toward him, the expression changed, subtly at first, then, more dramatically as a satisfied smirk settled on his features.

 

Aya knew that look. It was the “I Know Something You Don't Know” look and it was never good news.

 

He instinctively dropped to a crouch and the first shot whizzed over his head, stirring a few hairs in its wake. He rolled to the side, seeking cover before the next shot. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw two more guards. Damn it! Where in the hell had they come from? This wasn't in the plan and it sure as hell wasn't in the contingencies.

 

He sought refuge behind a filing cabinet, mind reeling for a way out, but knew he didn't have much time to plan. The target had shaken off his stupor and had gotten to his gun. Each bodyguard also had a gun.

 

Three guns vs. one sword.

 

Who ever thought that these were good odds? He would have been fine if he weren't caught between them. But, at this point, no matter which way he moved, someone was going to get a clean shot.

 

He made his decision. He was going to go for the target. If nothing else, he'd take the target out before he fell. He took one more breath, said a silent goodbye to his team and absent lover, and sprang at the smirking bastard behind the desk.

 

That was when he heard it.

 

An unmistakable sound, just before the two gun reports, that could only be one thing.

 

Wire.

 

He couldn't turn. Had to focus.

 

He landed in front of the target and immediately brought a booted foot to the man's hand. The gun, still warm from the one wild shot he'd managed to get off, went left while Aya's katana came down from the right, splitting the man from shoulder to hip.

 

He spun back toward the door. On the floor were two dead guards, a length of fine wire still tightly wrapped around their necks.

 

There was a small amount of blood spatter on the floor, clearly from the guards, the pattern matching the spray that could occur when the throat was severed just so.

 

But there was more, a small pool slightly behind one of the bodies and another smattering on the wall, not quite head high. Looking closer, Aya could see the bullet imbedded in the wall. The shot had been fired at close range and had gone clean through.

 

Clean through…

 

“Yohji?” It was nothing more than a whisper.

 

“Abyssinian, repeat.”

 

He began to run down the hall, following the few spots of blood here and there. He found a slightly larger puddle right before the stairs where the man had obviously stopped, probably trying to gain his breath. There was a partial boot print in the blood and tracks leading into the stairwell, heading down.

 

Yohji.

 

Yohji was here.

 

Yohji was hit.

 

Yohji didn't know the timeline and was going to get his ass blown up along with the building.

 

“Yohji!” And suddenly he could hear the steady thud of heavy boots running, unsteadily clambering down the stairs. Well, at least he was moving in the right direction!

 

Aya lit out after him, flying down the stairs as quickly as possible and praying that he didn't lose his footing and land on his sword.

 

“Yohji! Wait, damn you!”

 

“Abyssinian, get the hell out of there!” Ken was getting frantic. He'd known it was only a matter of time before Aya snapped. Honestly, he'd been waiting for it since long before Aya-chan woke up. But now, to think that the man was chasing ghosts through the halls of a building rigged to blow, he was finally afraid for him.

 

The charges were staggered. If he could get him out before the blasts reached this end of the building, they'd have a chance. Ken stepped forward and felt Omi's hand pull him into the car as the opposite end of the building burst into flame.

 

He held his breath while Omi tried to contact Aya by radio again to no avail.

 

Suddenly, a car he hadn't noticed peeled out of the shadows and took off down the road. Aya shot from the building in time to see the car's taillights disappear and cursed creatively. He smoothly slipped into the driver's seat and directed their car toward home as the first sirens were heard in the distance.

 

Omi and Ken gaped. It couldn't be. It just couldn't.

 

Could it?

 

Omi cautiously opened his mouth to ask, but Aya pre-empted him.

 

“Yes. That really was Yohji.”