Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ On the job ❯ On the job ( Chapter 1 )

Disclaimer: No I don't own them; I just have a weird imagination, and use it on them.

 

Untitled

 

Shit

Extra guards.

How did Kritiker manage to screw up yet again?

This is the second surprise tonight.

This one however, can be rectified.

 

Abyssinian pushed Balinese out of his path and advanced on the four guards closing in on the pair.

 

Two pulled out guns, shiny nickel plated, albeit small guns.

 

Abyssinian felt his hair ruffle as a silver thread of wire whipped past his face to ensnare the two weapons, yanking them clean out of their owners hands.

 

The Guards did not seem so confident now that they were without any other means of defence but their own bodies.

 

A flash of brown and silver behind one tall, suited sentry before a scream was torn from his throat as four sharp points pushed straight through the bone of his ribs, piercing his lungs and taking him down.

Behind the fallen body stood Siberian, claws strapped to his limbs, the shiny metal glistening with fresh blood.

 

The remaining guards had turned to see this newest opponent, leaving them blind to the other two members of Weiss, and their actions.

 

Another glint of silver wire and a second guard was down, his air supply abruptly cut off by a sharp tug of the thread.

 

Abyssinian saw the opportunity and pounced, no fear, but determination for his sister and his team.

 

They would not die because of Kritiker's mistake.

 

He raised his Katana before either of the shocked guards could react, and brought it down swiftly.

It pierced the jugular of the first, his carotid now flowing out its precious content in sync with his receding pulse.

In a smooth arc born of practice and experience, the last guard was hit on the thigh, a clean and deep swipe through his femoral artery as blood arced up from the fatal wound and the tip of the sword scraped against bone, before tearing its way back up through hard muscle and nerve, and finally soft flesh.

 

As he fell, dying, the last image to penetrate his rapidly fogging mind was of cold violet eyes and hair as crimson as the life force spilling out of him.

 

Balinese held on for a second longer after the last shuddering breath had left the now still and cooling body, then released his wire's death hold on the guard.

 

The entire scene having being played out in mere seconds, they left the four lifeless roadblocks in a pool of congealing blood, and headed for the exit.

As they turned the corner they found two more surprises in the shape of hidden backup once again, but before they could react accordingly, the sentinels eyes widened and they fell forward, landing face down on the hard cement floor with a sickening crack upon impact.

 

Behind them stood Bombay, come to his team's aid, crossbow in hand - him being the reason for the two shiny pre poisoned darts protruding from the back of the fallen enemies necks.

His aim had been true as is always the case, the darts having effectively hit a lumbar in the spine, their skulls not being the only cause of the bone splintering sound when they had plummeted.

The poison being a guarantee that they would never rise from their prone positions of their own will.

 

Abyssinian leading the way down the four floors, they found no more surprises, only already cold vacant bodies, having been taken care of on the rise to the office of their target.

Their getaway vehicle was pulling away from the building with a screech of tires, rubber on asphalt, when they heard the first siren.

 

5…4…3…2…1

 

They all held their breaths until they heard the familiar sound of the corpse-ridden structure caving in upon itself with the aid of many well-placed explosives. The ground trembled for a few seconds, then settled as their collective breaths were released.

 

How long would luck favour them?