Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ The Lives We Lead ❯ Red Velvet ( Chapter 11 )

 

Chapter 11 Weiß

 

Arashi leaned against the wall in the extravagant room. She ran over the plan in her head again, she glanced at the wall to check the time; the assassination would begin at 1:00 AM.

The room was enormous and extravagant. In every high arched door way hung thick, lush, dark red curtains. Intricate oak wound its way up the walls, decorating abstract yet entrancing designs. Everything was dressed with eye catching and exotic styles.

She fit in perfectly. Her ensemble was made of two belts of blank ammo bullets that criss-crossed over her shoulders to her waists. She wore one black fish net glove on her right hand. She wore tight leather pants and large combat boots as well.

Arashi noticed Youji come in, he was dressed as a `waiter'. (There weren't really waiters, in the essence of the word, at this gathering.) If you didn't know it was custom for the `waiters' to wear such dress, you'd of thought Youji dressed himself and Aya didn't yell at him to go change into something decent.

Youji wore tight leather pants, very tight I should add. In fact, they were so tight you could… never mind, I'll leave it at `they were tight'.

The style of the pants had long thick rips over it, revealing a few choice pieces of skin.

The pants were low riders, however Youji had apparently modified them by ripping off the hip part so they didn't even have a button at the top and came down very low.

His `shirt', for lack of a better word, was a thick leather band that wrapped over his torso, from his shoulder to the top of his hip. Youji's hair hung loosely around his face, bringing out his green eyes and barely hidden, flirtatious smirk.

Youji's very existence advertised exoticness, erotica, and pretty much every other syllable for Youji. He crossed the room quietly, occasionally stopping to serve someone a glass of wine at a lady whose attention he'd caught.

He eventually got to Arashi and before he slid behind the thick curtains into the kitchen, he handed the last cup on the tray to Arashi, it was the signal that there were minor set backs but everything was otherwise going as planned.

Arashi stared at the drink; she ended up just dumping it out in the nearest planter.

~*~

Farfarello grumbled, “Don't wear this. Don't wear that. Damn it, stop hitting Moses with a wiffle ball bat.”

Schuldig was in the next stall over examining his ensemble, “Oh, come on, we dress up for every masquerade. I can't believe you complain about it every time.”

“I don't want to dress up.” Farfarello answered straightly, “I already own my other pants, so why buy new ones? And this is shows too much, people are going to see my scars.”

Crawford grumbled, “You show off your scars like their badges of honor, why do you want to hide them now?” Farfarello didn't answer.

Nagi practically whimpered when Crawford tightened his tie, showing his dislike for the formality. The American groaned and pulled the tie off, he turned back to the dressing rooms, “Aren't you guys done yet?”

A deep-throated chuckle came from behind Schuldig's curtain. Nagi looked up, mildly amused. Schuldig burst from behind the curtain, his black cape draped around him, hiding part of his face from how he held the front, the top hat only added to the odd illusion.

Schuldig chuckled, “I look like Jack the Ripper.” He suddenly stood fully erect, with his hands out; Nagi assisted the image by making his cape blow out as if in wind.

Farfarello commented from behind his curtain, “I'm sure it's more of `Jack the Raper' (rapist)… you know, why not just say its Schuldig and get on with it.”

The German was examining his clothes, obviously delighted with it, while he asked nonchalantly, “Come on out and show us how it looks Farfie.”

“I swear, if you call me that again I'm going to come out here and kill you with the mere sight of what is supposed to be my wardrobe.”

Nagi snapped, “Are you dissing my fashion sense? I picked that out!”

Schuldig nodded, “Yeah Farfie, you can't deny a gay guys fashion sense.”

The Japanese boy's eyes bulged as he blushed furiously, “What?” He glared at the German, still fighting a deep blush, “Shut the hell up Schuldig!”

Crawford cut in, “You don't have to be so defensive Nagi. Such vigor will arouse suspicious thinking.” Nagi became silence, but he was still fighting a violent blush.

~*~

Aya bit the cap off another bottle and downed the contents. He was less than thrilled, well; sure he was thrilled when he heard he'd get to go undercover as a guest.

Of course, he then found out that the party started in about an hour or two… and all his teammates were undercover as people working at the ball. So that meant he had to sit in a bush, for two hours, with nothing to drink but Mountain Do, and no one to talk to.

He lay back down into the bushes and groaned. “Who knows, maybe Arashi will run out of things to do in there and come keep me company.”

~*~

When Omi first walked into the bathroom he almost fainted, or died of a serious bloody nose. He couldn't believe he'd actually volunteered to do this job.

As he thought it over he realized Ken had no class when it came to this type of work. Aya would have simply refused and Youji… he would have enjoyed himself too much.

All the young, and beautifully built `dancers' turned and looked at him, instantly giggling. One pink haired girl laughed, “I think you didn't get the memo, you're way over dressed.”

Omi looked down at himself, he'd taken one of Youji's shirts and put on the shortest pair of shorts he could find in his drawer.

He blushed, feeling like an idiot when everyone started looking at him.

The performers back stage went back to their tasks, sitting in baths of oil, making their skin shine, as others dawned incredible but skimpy outfits.

His head sunk, “What have I gotten myself into?”

A girl with curly brown hair took the thin jacket out of his hands and examined him, “You're cute, I think we can do a lot with you.” Instantly at least 4 other girls and an obviously gay boy surrounded him picking at his clothes and suggesting other outfits they had in mind.

~*~

Chikaru spun the wheel in one direction a little, and then, as if it would make her ride more interesting, she swung it in the opposite direction. Mal latched onto her car door and yelled, “Drive straight! Stop turning!”

The blonde cocked her head, “Straight?” she examined the very windy road.

“Yes! That's an order!” Mal yelled, her eyes still tightly shut.

“As you wish Padrone-sama.”

“Merci, Schiavo.” Mal sighed. She opened her eyes and noticed the car racing towards the thin railing before a great cliff, “Turn! Turn!” she began to yell.

Chikaru turned the car swiftly, but continued driving on the wrong side of the road, Mal began to panic again, “Wrong side of the road! Wrong side of the road!”

An 18-wheeler suddenly rounded the corner, also driving on the wrong side of the road, the large car zipped past the Mafia lady's much smaller car.

“Would you look at that? Crawford told me to be stay to the right on the turn after a deer crossed the street. Imagine if we were on the correct side of the road, we'd be squashed! I always have liked pre-cogs… wait… he's the only one I've ever known… Malvagita-sama? Why don't you know more pre-cognitives?”

Mal envisioned the thought of knowing more Bradley J. Crawfords… as the images of such a life flashed before her eyes she answered, “Because I choose life.”

Chikaru nodded, instantly supporting, “Excellent decision.”

The Italian asked, “What time does it start?”

“In… about a half hour.”

“Ah, I see…” the Italian tried not to look out her window… or the front window… she tried not to look. “How much longer until we get there?”

“Whu? Why? Am I going to slow? Oh, I'm sorry! Selfish, selfish, selfish. Of course you want to get there soon. I'll hurry! I will try harder to do my best!”

Mal groaned as she felt the car suddenly accelerate to an unhealthy speed.

~*~

Ken was in a bathroom, alone. He stared at himself in the mirror. He realized, he didn't remember where he was supposed to be.

It sucks to be like Ken.

It sucks be lonely and like Ken.

~*~

Crawford coasted down the street at a casual pace. Schuldig finally smacked the dashboard, “Verdammen! Stop driving like an old man!”

“Patience is a virtue, Schuldig.”

“Well I'm not exactly virtuous, the heat is going to make my balls sweat! And clothes are getting uncomfortable, I need to stretch my legs.” He whined, though he, being in the passengers seat, had the most legroom. (Except for the driver.)

Brad asked, “Is there water back there?”

Nagi glared at the large box of water that was put under his feet, “Yes, right here where they are incredibly uncomfortable. Why can't they go in the trunk?

“Because they need to be cold.” Crawford replied, “I saw it in a vision.”

“They why can't they go under Farfarello's feet? He probably wouldn't even notice them.”

“Because he's got longer legs than you Chibi.” Schuldig replied.

Nagi yelled, “Don't call me Chibi!”

“Would you rather me name you after one of the 7 dwarfs?”

“Shimatte!”

“I'm thinking Sneezy.”

“I said shut up!” Nagi yelled. He pulled his feet up and kicked the back of Schuldig's chair.

The German cursed as he was pushed forward, “You damn brat! You're going to regret that!” He unbuckled his safety belt and reached into the back.

“Schuldig…” Crawford warned.

The German continued, hips between his chair and Brad's, attacking the youngest Schwarz member. Crawford suddenly slammed on his brakes, flinging Schuldig against the dashboard, and Nagi against the chair violently.

Nagi whined as he rubbed his nose, “What did you do that for?”

Crawford motioned, “It appears that our friend's car has broken down.” Chikaru was dancing around in the middle of the street; she appeared to be talking… towards the sky…

Malvagita's voice was heard yelling, “Get out of the street!”

Chikaru turned around and gasped to see a car there. She noticed Crawford in the drivers seat and yelled out, “Ohayo Mr. Crawford!” she looked over at the passengers seat to see two legs sticking in the air. She cocked her head and stared at it, not sure whom to address her greeting to.

Crawford motioned back; “I send my flying nuts to you.” (I had to put it in there; it's the national greeting of the civilization Jillian Ford will one day own.)

Malvagita slowly sauntered around the car to Brad's window. He sighed and rolled it down; she rested her elbows on the sill and ducked her head inside, “Hey boys.”

Schuldig couldn't resist how perfect the scene was and asked, “How much for the night?”

“A bullet through your skull and well call it a fair trade.” Mal said with a glare.

Bradley raised an eyebrow, “Do you always kill men after you sleep with them?”

“Its more fun than the other way around.” Malvagita retorted. Schuldig and Bradley started snickering and Mal glared at her un-thought out come back.

Chikaru came up to the other window and explained the situation, “The car broke down, one of the wheels has a throwing star lodged in it.”

Crawford replied casually, “I know, I foresaw the whole thing happening.”

Chikaru suddenly looked hurt, “You didn't tell me to watch out for the throwing star… I never even saw it coming.”

Malvagita glared, “You ass hole, I've been waiting out here in the sun without water for half an hour because you wanted to see this cheap thrill?”

“Well, basically yes. But I don't think that's the way you should be talking to the person who's come to rescue you.” He answered.

The Italian woman seemed to turn red, “Go to hell Bradley Crawford! I'm not getting into a car with you!” with that she turned and started practically stomping up the road.

Bradley gave a low chuckle and put the car in gear, then proceeded forward at about 3 miles an hour, “You know, I've never noticed how slow you walk.”

“Shut up.”

Crawford slightly smirked but otherwise remained quiet.

“Don't you have some Takitori's ass to kiss?” Mal demanded.

“Not any more, seems my time- tonight anyways- is devoted to you.”

“Ah, I see, just remember, flattery will get you everywhere.” Mal winked.

Crawford chuckled, “I'm here to save your ass not to kiss it.”

Schuldig sighed, “A lovers quarrel. Bradley, why don't you just do both and call it a day?”

Malvagita growled, “What are you still doing here, drive already!”

“I am, I'm driving right next to you.”

“Well don't!”

“Why not?” he replied.

“Why don't you just go up to the ball already?”

“Because I want to see you walk the whole way there.”

Mal took on a worried look, “Did you really for see me walking?” Chikaru jumped onto the back of the car, and sat, resting her feet on the bumper.

Crawford shook his head, “Of course not, that's why I brought water.”

Malvagita stopped walking, meaning Crawford had to slow down again, “Crawford, did you really bring water?”

Nagi grumbled, “I'm going to be mad if we have to go 5 mph the whole way there.”

~*~

Aya crossed his arms behind his head and leaned back onto the thick grass, he thought over the plans in his head once more. He would enter 20 minutes after the ball began.

While he would pose as a guest, the rest of Weiß would be undercover as various other positions. When the clock struck 1:00, they would kill their targets. However, at this masquerade, everyone was to wear a mask.

The red head grimaced; this made his job so much more difficult. It meant he'd have to watch every person there so he could determine which one was his target.

He moved his hands so he could crack his knuckles and began to wonder how long it would take till people started to arrive. He hoped it wouldn't be too long; he didn't want to be the victim of guard dogs.

At that moment he heard an engine rumbling up the driveway. He scrambled to his knees and stared through the bushes. A black Porsche pulled up, he bit his lip, hoping that it was just some fat crime lord that got out.

The first to get out was a tall black haired man in a cream suite. The valet parker ran up to get the door for the next person to get out, a woman with curly dark hair. A short Japanese boy jumped out, soon followed by a tall white haired man and a tall golden haired girl.

The last to get out was a tall man; dressed in black, with his hair in a low blood red, pony tail. Aya stared at this last person until the man turned and winked at the bushes. “Shit.” He cursed to himself, “It's the mastermind.”

None of them where wearing costumes, it mean they all planned to change there. Aya rolled back onto back and sighed, “I hope everyone doesn't change there, otherwise it will be even harder to track the targets down and kill them… I hope someone introduces name tags.”

~*~

Omi shivered as he looked up at the clock. One of the other dancers patted his back, “Hey, we're on soon.”

The young blonde almost whimpered. The slightly older looking boy began rubbing his back, “This is your first time isn't it?”

“Yeah, is it that obvious?” he paused then shook his head, “Scratch that, of course it is. I've watched people do this, but I've never participated before.” In a nervous fret he started to pull at the band of his outfit.

The other boy stopped him, “You don't have enough on to do that.” Omi gave a deep breath and danced from foot to foot, “Don't worry kid, your cute enough to not even need to know how to dance.” Omi looked up with wide eyes, shocked at the compliment, the boy laughed and patted his head, “I bet if you fell even, people would throw money up thinking it was part of the act.”

He sighed, “I hope I don't fall though. That would be embarrassing.”

Youji came prancing into the room with an idiotic grin on his face, “Hello ladies.” He began in a deep voice, “I can see your all preparing for the dance.” He stood close to one of the girls and winked, “Care to give me a little preview of this evening's show?”

The girl glared at him and walked away. Youji shrugged, “She must be gay.” He started walking around the room, looking at all the people when he suddenly saw Omi.

Omi gave a weak smile and waved. Youji gasped, obviously shocked, he then ran out of the room, dropping all the drinks he had on him. The young blonde suddenly looked worried.

A girl came up to him and asked, “Do you know him?”

Omi paused before slowly nodding, deciding it wouldn't give anything away. The girl shrugged, “Well that explains it, my daddy had the same reaction when he saw me up here dancing for the first time.” She gave a wide smile.

He smiled back, “That… must be it.”

 

 

~*~

Arashi once again assured herself that her mask hid her features. Her dark hair was pulled up in an intricate design that looked complex but was actually rather simple, which was good considering she needed something simple if she were to complete her duties as an assassin.

She led the members of Schwarz as well as Malvagita and her pet down the hallway to their quarters. The Japanese woman began to feel vulnerable again so she snuck a quick glance over her shoulder to see if any of her adversaries knew who she was.

Schuldig, who now wore a wide brimmed black hat, hiding his pulled back hair, had a lecherous grin marked across his face and an arm around Chikaru's neck, the two of them were obviously too distracted to notice if Takatori climbed out of the grave and danced to a mariachi band.

Brad and Mal were bickering over something incredibly petty. They wouldn't have noticed if their archenemy was standing right in front of them… well, they didn't notice.

However, Farfarello was staring right at her, with that unnerving gold eye. Despite what people assume, the Irish man was incredibly observant, and seemed to always see the things that weren't supposed to be seen.

Arashi turned her head back, hoping that she would not have been recognizable. She noticed a presence come to her side; she refused to see whom it was. A youthful voice finally asked, “Excuse me, have you seen a young blonde here, around here, in his teen years?

Arashi remained silent but slowly shook her head. Nagi sighed, another girl working at the ball asked, “Real thin, blue eyes, and ear ring in his left ear?”

Nagi nodded, “Yes, have you seen him?”

The girl raised a playful eyebrow, “What do you want with him?”

Nagi paused before quickly making up a lie, “He… belongs to me, so I'd like to know where my property is.” Arashi started coughing, having choked on the sever shock.

The girl made a quick bow and apologized, “Gomen sir, I was not aware. The boy is performing in the `dance'.” Nagi made a small bow back, pleased his lie had worked. Arashi was still trying to get over the shock.

She finally just picked a room and opened it, the men of Schwarz walked inside. Chikaru and Mal waited expectantly, Arashi opened the door across the hall, the two women filed in.

Arashi then sighed to herself, leaning against the door, “I have to go warn Bombay.”

~*~

Malvagita was soon adorned in a magnificent ensemble. A blood red gown that reflected such beauty and evil, it put bloody Mary to shame. Gold ring spirals were woven into the curls of her hair, giving each one a glittering uniqueness. She rubbed her lips together, enjoying the deep red hue of them before standing up.

Chikaru dropped her hands to her side; she had been doing the final arrangements on Mal's hair.

The Mafia lord offered a small smile, “The party has started by now I'm sure.” She headed for the door and continued, “Go check on how the guys are doing, I'm heading out now.”

Chikaru was about to tell her that she believed most of them left a little while ago, Malvagita looked over her shoulder, “I'll see you after a while, if they haven't all come out already.”

Chikaru nodded and quickly finished up with her own costume.

(Yes, I know I used a copyrighted image for Chikaru. But she keeps changing her appearance, so ha! She could look like that for all you know. And I don't know where she got the flower…)

When she was done she crossed the hall and knocked on the door, there was no response so she peeked her head in.

Farfarello was staring into a mirror; Chikaru stepped in and cleared her throat making her presence known.

The man turned his face from her and the mirror. The young blonde asked, “Why aren't you out with everyone else?”

Farfarello grumbled, “I tried to fix… it. But I messed up.”

The blonde came towards him slowly, she put a hand on his shoulder, he turned his head but otherwise didn't move to hide himself.

She moved around him to see his face, she finally started to giggle quietly when she saw that he'd put on conceilant in an attempt to hide his scars. She went and dampened a rag and guided him to a chair to correct it.

“Why did you do that?” she asked, as she cleared the make up that had only succeeded in highlighting his scars.

“Schuldig told me that y- people were `repulsed' by them.” He answered.

Chikaru thought about it and shrugged, “I remember when Arashi was over. She told me one time that she thought your scars were horrible flaws and they made you `ugly'.”

She started washing out the rag and wringing it. The Irish man looked in the mirror, observing she removed all the make-up, he asked, “Do… you agree?”

“Hm?” she looked back at him, then smiled meekly, “Farfarello, you shouldn't be offended, she's your enemy, of course she doesn't like anything to do with you.”

“But my scars-”

“She just didn't know how to react to them. Don't think about it.” Chikaru interrupted and assured.

Farfarello quietly stood up, looming over her as she hung up the rag to dry. She turned around and her breath hitched when she noticed his proximity. He asked, “Do you agree?”

Chikaru stared up at him for a moment before her features softened further. She reached a gentle hand up, placing it over his cheek, her fingertips brushing over some of his old scars, in a soft voice she replied, “No Farfarello. I don't think your scars are hideous and I don't think they make you look ugly… because I don't see them as flaws.”

Farfarello blinked, watching her soft features for a moment, then nodded, grabbed his mask off the table and left.

~*~

Bradley groaned as the short brunette girl next to him continued to babble, “You look really awesome sir. You must be here for some pretty big business, am I right? I bet I am. Do want a drink? No. I bet you don't drink because you don't want it to cloud your mind. You must be really cool. You know that? Sir? Sir?”

Crawford glared down at her, “What?”

“You're not listening to me.”

“How observant. I'm trying to ignore you.” He turned his head back to his goal. Malvagita was ahead, speaking and laughing with other crime lords. He wanted to get over there, secretly, however, with this bothersome… kid, his cover would easily be blown.

“You're mean!”

“Actually,” Schuldig came to the rescue, “He's being rather kind.” He put a heavy hand on the girl's shoulder, “But if you want to see something truly evil…”

The girl looked up at his vicious sapphire eyes, framed by a black velvet mask with a ruby tear in the corner of the eye. She was speechless, he grinned, his lips parting, but his smile was anything but friendly. Her eyes widened, she detached herself from the German's hand and fled.

Brad grumbled, “You're such a sadist.”

“I can't help it, it's addictive you know.”

“I'm sure you could help it if you felt like it.” Brad replied.

“I wouldn't want to help it. Remember when I said people's thoughts taste like honey? Well fear is at least 100 times sweeter.” The German smirked.

“You'd want to help it if it were Chikaru.” Brad responded, determined to catch his companion in a corner.

“Hardly so. I decided she would be my sweetest victim yet. As soon as she's feels fear instead of just putting her trust and hope in the hand's of the person inflicting it…”

Brad rolled his eyes, “You're so sentimental Schuldig.”

“It's not that I don't like her, believe me I do, it's why I'm putting the trouble in.” Bradley shook his head and waved him off. Schuldig chuckled and walked off.

Crawford leaned his face onto his palm, enjoying the feeling of his thin glass mask. It covered most of the top of his face in cool black glass with a foggy blue texture inside. If was glass, so you could see through it to just make out some features, but foggy enough to leave his features mostly unknown.

He found himself very pleased with this mask, it was the mask that he had in his vision.

~*~

A few more dancers came off the stage, a tall girl behind Omi patted his shoulder, “You're up.”

“What? Now? Oh my God! What do I do? Oh gosh.”

“It's okay. There will be about a few other dancers up there with you.”

Omi bit his lip and refrained from pulling on his small outfit anymore. He came out from the curtains and put on his best Omi smile. He searched the crowd to briefly when he had to do a double take; he could have sworn he saw Nagi.

Nagi put his hand to his own mask, pulling it off for a second to wink, before placing it back onto his face. At that point Omi seemed to spaz at the unexpected greeting and bounced into the person in front of him before falling backwards into the arms of the boy he'd spoken to earlier.

The boy smiled down at the blond and rubbed a hand over his chest before setting him back up. Omi stared in shock at the boy before he finally whispered in reply, “I was trying to help you make your accident look less like a mistake.”

Omi smiled a silent `thank you' before he went back to dancing. (For anyone who cares, Nagi was glaring.) Omi unconsciously had a pout on his face as he kept reminding himself not to think about Nagi or else Schuldig would tell him and all would be shot to hell.

So, the boy danced as if Nagi wasn't there… occasionally adding a little extra something just because Nagi was there. As another wave of dancers came out, one boisterous teen ended up knocking Omi over. And as any cliché romance scene would have it, Omi fell off the platform right to Nagi's… feet. (Ha! I didn't say lap like any other cliché romance scene would have it.)

The blonde gasped, frightened slightly at the close proximity, especially in what he was wearing, he stood up and was about to make his way back to the stage when Nagi took his hand and pulled him back.

Omi fell to his knees, due to the harsh pull, right between Nagi's legs. Nagi leaned forward and whispered, “Be on the roof by 12:30, what you do till then is up to you.” The blonde, however, was slightly distracted to look down and see a wad of neatly folded money pushed into the band of `pants'.

“Y-yes. I mean, I'll see about it.” Omi stood and turned to climb back on stage, blushing furiously.

A girl danced by him and said, “That's easily 300 American dollars! What are you doing? Go back to that guy and see how much more you can get off him.” Omi's eyes widened, a look of slight helplessness formed.

~*~

Arashi looked around for Aya so she could alert him of the news. She scanned the crowd, hoping she'd find him soon before some dirty drunk came up and forced her to find a window to throw him out of.

Finally her eyes fell on the tall white clad male. He watched him a moment longer, just to be sure. A few stray locks of red hair fell out from under the wide brimmed black hat. (http://aimeemajor.com/images/screenshots/vhd/vhd-marryme.jp g)

Aya tilted his head up a little; Arashi instantly recognized the mask and started forward. Aya looked right at her before turned and heading up the wide set of stairs that lead to the floor above the present one. (Not only is this place huge horizontally, it also has many floors and towers.)

Arashi looked slightly puzzled, but she followed him up the large staircase. When she got to the top she looked down the various hallways, waiting to see which one Aya had walked down. She caught the flutter of his white cape disappearing around a corner.

“Abyssinian! Wait!” she called after him. She growled then ran down the hall, groaning when she noticed another flight of stares, which he was at the top of. She yelled, “Abyssinian!”

He stopped, one pale hand resting on the banister, he glanced down at her, his cold narrow eyes studying her before he continued.

~*~

Malvagita waved and blew a playful kiss to a group of other crime lords that were getting up to find a new attraction. She took a drink off the tray of a servant/waiter walking by and sipped lightly at the drink.

She looked up from her drink to see a man dressed in the wardrobe of Victorian times, so much so, it almost seemed to match her own outfit. Though his slacks and cape were black, the crestings on the pockets of his jacket were a deep red hue. The white, stiff collar that encompassed his neck had thin, almost unnoticeable streaks of gold. The front of this collar was fastened together at the place where the neck meets the collarbones; a dark red ruby framed in gold secured it there.

His outfit even had the ruffled kerchief, the base tucked into the black silk vest he wore. Mal drank in his appearance before looking up to his face, disappointed to find that his features were indeed masked by… a mask.

“You're looking…” she took her time, allowing her eyes to travel up and down his body once more, “Rather intriguing.”

The man slightly lowered his head, “As are you. I find your beauty far more captivating than that of any other in this room.”

Mal gave a light laugh, sipping her drink she replied, “I'm flattered.”

“You should be.” He responded, taking a glass off a tray.

The Italian crossed her legs, propping herself up slightly, she was definitely much more interested in this conversation than she had been with her previous, “So, what brings you here Mr…”

After a pause the man replied, “I'm here on business. But it appears I'll be able to enjoy myself none the less.”

She chuckled, “That was a hint to give me your name.”

The dark haired man blinked dark eyes before responding; “I would not think it wise.”

Mal laughed and said in a provocative voice, “Oh come on. I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”

The man's face remained emotionless, he turned his head away, “Giving it up so freely puts such little value on such a beautiful name.”

“It seems someone is proud of their name.”

“On the contrary, I'm speaking of yours.”

“My name?” Mal laughed, “If you know my name there's no point in me giving mine for yours.”

“I realize this.” He then added, “Malvagita.”

“You know my name?” she asked, “How is this?”

“You could say I do my homework, or that I look before I leap.” He replied.

Malvagita emitted a short round of bubbly laughter, which she immediately suppressed with a blush hidden beneath her mask. She lifted her wine and sipped it. She offered, “Would you like some wine? They have some incredibly fine types here.”

He shook his head, “It dulls my hatred.”

Mal chuckled and started sipping at her wine again. The man leaned forward and asked, “Have you heard the legend of the Japanese Mask?”

“Does it have anything to do with why we are wearing masks now?”

“Indeed it does.”

“Then no, I have never heard it.” She replied with a smile.

With a coy smile, the man in the black glass mask asked, “Would you like to hear it?”

“Only if you're the one telling it to me.” The Italian purred.

The man smiled and began, “The legend is that within each mask is a spirit, when you put on the mask, the spirit becomes a part of you and manipulates your actions. The mask can turn a meek man into a wild beast and a tired body into a youth pulsing with energy.”

“I see, and do you believe in such things?”

The man shrugged, “There's also the realist's view on the matter. Some believe that the mask simply hides your face, and when such anonymity is granted, it gives a person power. It liberates them of responsibility; their actions are no longer associated to their name and title. A person feels free to do what they want.”

“I think I like this `freedom from responsibility'. So which do you believe?”

“I believe…” began the man, “That I'd like to show my appreciation to you…” Mal noticed now that at some point during the story he'd joined her on the couch, “with a kiss.”

Mal blinked her dark eyes, one still hidden under her thick dark curls wound in gold. The man leaned forward and brushed two of his fingers down the exposed part of her cheek, she felt her self-leaning further towards the man as he came towards her.

Her eyes became heavily lidded and he closed his eyes as he spoke, “Just for tonight, we can do what we've always wanted without responsibility… but only for this night.”

Then he pressed his lips against Malvagita's, enjoying the moist suppleness of them. She wound an arm around his neck and parted her lips, granting his tongue access. He glided his tongue over her lower lip before sliding it to meet her own.

Thought he party continued and there were plans to be put into action, both were lost in their own world of passionate embrace and kissing. (If your dense, they were just kissing, no sex, just kissing.)

~*~

Arashi followed up those stairs and noticed and open door. She walked in and looked around, noticing no sign of Aya.

She looked at the painting over the fireplace and gasped when she saw him walking up the stairs in it. Arashi walked forward to see that it was a staircase, the doorway was in a frame, designed to make it look like a painting.

Arashi crawled up onto the mantelpiece and through the frame, when she got inside she noticed that on both sides, thousands of candles melted on the walls and on the stairs, all the way up.

When Aya reached the top he turned, gazing down at her. When he turned, every candle extinguished with a hiss. Arashi followed him through a series of twists and turns and stairs and hallways till she finally found herself at the top of a tower.

“Aya, what's wrong?” she finally demanded.

The assassin was leaning against a pillar, facing the moon. He turned, “I wanted a chance to talk to you away from all the noise.”

Arashi crossed her arms, well; there wasn't much noise on the last 20 minutes of your little escapade.”

Aya turned to look at her and smiled, “Up here we wont be interrupted.” Arashi slowly walked closer to him. He took her hand into his own and stared up at the moon, “It's beautiful isn't it? Someday we'll be able to look at it and not have death standing in our shadows.”

Arashi stood next to him; she stood there for a moment before commenting, “Aya… what's going on? You don't sound like yourself.”

He turned his head slightly, “Well… I guess you could say I don't quite feel myself.” He reached up and removed his hat and mask, holding them out as he faced her.

Arashi gasped and started walking backwards when she heard a footstep. She turned around, it was Farfarello. The raven haired girl growled before she reached for small cutting blades she'd lifted off a guest earlier.

She held them up, ready to defend herself. Schuldig chuckled, “Those scraps of foil are hardly the size of my little finger. Do you trust your life in them?” Arashi flicked her eyes at the German, he chuckled more, “You're life isn't in danger.”

“Oh, I'm sure.” She sneered sarcastically, “Where is Abyssinian?”

“He's looking for you.” Answered Schuldig.

Arashi turned to run down the stairs, Farfarello stepped in her way. She instantly thrust one of the blades through his hand.

Blood splattered up onto the man's colorless face. Arashi slightly gasped when his only movement was sliding his tongue out to catch some of the dripping blood on his lip.

The two stared at each other for a moment when the Irish man slid his pierced hand down the blade. He wrapped his fingers around the handle of the weapon and removed it from the assassin's hand. His other hand went unnoticed as it removed her other blade.

“We can't allow you to leave yet.” Schuldig smirked.

“What the hell do you want?” Arashi asked, stepping back from both of them, in a small effort to get away.

Schuldig answered, “We'd like you to try not killing anyone.”

“What the hell are you trying to pull?”

The German explained, “I don't like babysitting crime lords. I like playing with my pet, Chikaru~. I only assumed that you'd rather run off with the Abyssinian instead of hunting down crime lords all night.”

“It's our job, as hunters of the night, to kill them.” She replied.

“Yes, yes, I realize this. As is my job to protect them. But `want' is a big issue here. And I don't want to do my job. So don't go back down stairs. Got that?”

“Screw off you baka gajiin.” Arashi snapped. (baka gajiin= stupid foreigner)

Schuldig sighed and started for the door, “Then it seems we'll have to keep you here by other means.” As he, and the Irish man, disappeared through the door, the sky suddenly seemed to turn several shades darker, and a white figure appeared from behind a column.

~*~

Aya was currently wandering around the lower floors, looking around for his team member Arashi. He'd recently realized that being dressed as a guest gave him a good excuse to talk to Arashi, who was dressed as a servant. Schwarz would notice obviously, but the other guests wouldn't, and since he couldn't see any Schwarz members at the time, it seemed like a good idea.

Determining that Arashi wasn't on that floor he started up the stairs in search of her.

~*~

Omi was shaking like a small Chihuahua. He was mentally cursing himself for agreeing to go up to the roof like Nagi had asked him to… even though he still had quite a while, he still decided to go.

However, he was damned if he was going to actually walk through a room full of perverted old people in that itty bitty thing he had on earlier… So… someone helped him find a new itty-bitty thing to wear.

The young blonde walked out from behind a set of thick curtains, a fast pace set, and a place to go. He did notice all the sidelong glances he caught in his ensemble, and he had to admit… it was the most fun he'd ever had in clothes. (Check the pants part!!!)

He made his way to the stairs and rushed up them, excited to get away from the people and up to the rooftop. When he got up to the top, he looked at the other tops and instantly realized that the castle like mansion had several rooftops.

Omi was about to turn around and start searching for possible other rooftops when Nagi appeared out of the stairway. The brown haired Japanese boy smiled, “Oh, I'm glad you're here, I wasn't able to tell which rooftop exactly you'd be coming to. But I was happy to see that you were able to leave early and come up here.”

“Why?” Omi asked with a very blonde tone in his voice.

Nagi almost grinned at the naivety of his companion, “It just gives us more time.”

Omi blushed and asked, “T-to do what?”

With a wicked grin Nagi replied, “Oh my, don't tell me you don't know what comes next.” With that he summoned the wind to pick up and swirl around Omi, pulling at his clothes. Nagi then began to charge right at him.

Omi's eyes widened, “No! Wait! You can't!” He ducked, covering his head with his arms, pressing against the alabaster banister.

Nagi leaned his elbows on it and stared at the sky, “I'm just messing with you.” Omi paused then looked up with a shocked expression. Nagi laughed, “What did you think I was going to do?”

The young blonde stared at the taller boy and sighed, collapsing back against the banister. “Dude, that totally wasn't funny.” He gave a deep breath, “You scared me.”

The teen leaned in, “What did you think I was going to do?”

The blonde assassin stared back into the deep turquoise eyes. They stared at each other for a moment before Omi pursed his brows and looked up with wide innocent eyes, “Please don't do it again. It scared me.”

Nagi's features softened, he muttered, “Gomen.” Before turning to look up at the sky again.

Omi pulled himself up and leaned over the balcony. He realized how exposed his rear was judging by the `refreshing breeze' and just hoped Nagi didn't look back. “So… what did you bring me up here for?”

Nagi shrugged, “To talk I guess… o r something… I don't know.”

Omi looked irritated for a moment, “You pulled me away from my job to talk?”

The brunette explained, “I brought you up here so you wouldn't be down stares, Crawford predicted a little bit of confusion when the Siberian attacks one of the guests, but he's subdued by Chikaru, so its over all fine.”

“Yeah, and all will be grand in the Land of Oz, right?” Omi pouted, “That's my team mate down there! I have to help him.” He turned to leave for the stares.

Nagi grabbed his arm and pulled him back, “I'm afraid I can't allow you to go down there. It's often wise to strictly follow the Oracle's prophecies.” He looked at the boy and asked, “Besides, do you really want to go down there? Just stay up here and we can both say we did our jobs.”

Omi hesitated before finally sighing, deciding he wasn't going anywhere if the telepath decided he didn't want him to.