Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Snippets of Daily Life ❯ Guns ( Chapter 7 )

Disclaimer: I don't own Weiss Kreuz. WK belongs to project Weiss and Takehito-san

 

Hey everyone this is bly's (bly-bly's ,sarblythe's, or just blythe's) birthday snippet! So thank her for this (good thing I decided on this one and not appeal huh bly? ;) )

 

 

 

 

Part XII

 

Yohji hunched miserably into his coat. He was on a mission, it was unbearably cold and he had on unsexy, protective clothing. He felt off kilter: there was the weight of the cold, unfamiliar gun in his hand and no watch on his wrist.

 

Yohji glared at the gun; it was the source of all his problems. Kritiker wanted their assassins to be familiar with these unsophisticated tools, and so here he was, standing behind a heap of junk with nothing but the biting wind and Ken for company.

 

Ken would have been more effective company if Yohji could actually see him, or talk to him, but they had no comm links, so Yohji could only speculate as to the condition of his team-mate.

 

Yohji heard movement near to him; it was time to get his butt into gear. He had a target to take down and a gun to use to show that he was competent.

 

Smoothly, silently, Yohji drifted from behind one barrier to the next, circling slowly closer around the source of the noise. Finally he raised his gun, and waited for his target to come in to view. His fingers slowly pulled the trigger, and at the last second Yohji jerked the gun to the side as he fired.

 

Whirling at the noise, Ken automatically shot.

 

“Watch it, Ken!”

 

“Sorry.”

 

Yohji watched as a dark shape broke from the shadows behind Ken. He opened his mouth to call a warning to his team-mate, whose guard was still down. As if in slow-motion Yohji watched the gunman fire, and Ken grunted with the pain before he slowly toppled over.

 

Yohji ignored the lone gunman, who was now raising his gun again and aiming at him, and ran instead to his fallen team-mate. He was surprised when there was no immediate gunshot ending his existence.

 

He looked up, straight into the barrel of the gun.

 

Wanting to see the face of his killer, Yohji looked even further up. His eyes widened.

The trigger slowly depressed.

 

“Traitor,” he mouthed, eyes never leaving the other's violet eyes.

 

There was a deep dramatic pause.

 

And then two gunshots rang out.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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“What the hell was that for, Omi? I'm on your team!” Aya slapped Omi upside the head.

 

“I was sick to death of all that melodrama. For heaven's sake, we were just playing paintball! But noooo, first it was you and Yohji-kun as partners, and Yohji-kun fell, so you `rescued' him and died in the attempt. Then it was Ken-kun and Yohji-kun, and look how spectacularly that turned out! He was on the opposite team and still you hesitated in killing him. So, I took you both out. Bakas! In the end I was the last man standing. Victory!”

 

As one the three eldest assassins moved. Aya and Yohji grabbed the younger blonde by his arms and legs whilst Ken aimed the gun.

 

“You wouldn't.”

 

Aya raised an eyebrow.

 

“But the game's over, guys.” Omi whined.

 

Yohji snickered.

 

“Ken-kun, you wouldn't really, would yo - aaarrggh!”