Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ To Those About To Die ❯ Chapter 7 - Frustration ( Chapter 7 )

Chapter Seven -- Frustration

The snow fades, the trees consider the approach of spring, and it has been one year since the renegades destroyed the world I had come to know as mine.

I set the folder aside in disgust. Month after month Esset sent updates, month after month the piles of useless information grew higher. New teams were being churned out as fast as the trainers could manage; currently I supposed there would be at least sixty field teams scattered across the globe, each hoping to be the one to apprehend at least one member of Schwarz.

Sixty teams, two hundred or more operatives, and a worldwide network of informants.

No Schwarz.

The entire history of Esset hung suspended upon this one crux in time, the nexus of its relevance, and it was sliding backward with every day Schwarz remained free.

"Well? Are you going to sit there on your big ass or are you going to tell us what it says?"

In spite of myself, I laughed, though I did my best to muffle the sound. I could imagine the look on the Girl's face at Kiko's audacity, and I knew he'd done it to annoy her. She knew that such words from her would not be tolerated, and could not imagine why I would allow Kiko to get away with it.

Or, she could probably imagine, but she would be mistaken. Fond though I was of Kiko, I would not invite him to my bed. That was reserved for Toni.

I tried not to let my mood darken at that thought. I picked the folder back up and flipped it open. "Kiko, are you in the mood for a wager?"

He grinned and tilted his head back in an arrogant pose. "What do you have in mind?"

"Read my mind, and you tell me what's in the folder."

The Girl snorted dismissively. "That's hardly appropriate, Berger. This isn't a joke."

As though she hadn't spoken, Kiko made a face of extreme concentration and said, "Hmm, let's see, they've been...spotted, almost certainly this time. Someone saw them in...an airport? No, a train station! Yes, that's it, a train station in...Europe. There's a grainy blurry photograph of someone that might possibly be either Farfarello or...a mime, and a very clear and crisp photo of Schuldig, but the poor bastard who took the picture can't remember where he got it." He looked at me with impish delight. "So. Do I win?"

I clapped my hands. "Bravo, my friend! You're four out of six. Spotted, yes. It was an airport, not a train station, in London. No on the mime, but there is a picture that might be Farfarello or a punker, and a nice clear shot of Schuldig at the airport."

"Man, are they getting predictable or what?"

"I cannot believe the two of you!" the Girl snarled, her fists clenching. "You act as if this is some kind of training game! This is the most important mission of our lives, and you carry on like a couple of variety show hosts!"

"Hey, I'm too young to get an ulcer," Kiko replied with an eloquent shrug. Then he glanced at me and added, "I'm not saying that you're old, Berger. You know that, right?"

"I know, Kiko." I tried not to smile as he joined me at the desk. It would only antagonize the Girl further, and I was not in the mood.

She took a deep breath and asked, "Is there anything useful in that pile of shit on your desk, Berger? Or should we have Kiko torch it all and start over?"

For a moment I actually considered it. I had a stack of folders and papers well over two feet high, and two small storage boxes full of briefing materials. So far we had no real leads. "No, Mädchen, tempting though it sounds. These men are different from what we've been told, the dossiers are incomplete, that's all. There is something about them that we will decipher, sooner or later."

Damn, why was I hesitating? As I paused, seeming to collect my thoughts, I realized the truth of it: what we were doing was wrong. Brad Crawford was no criminal, he was a liberator who had failed to destroy the entire regime, and was now being hunted by its vengeance machinery.

"So, what you're telling us," Kiko drawled, "is that you're going to keep re-reading all this crap until your eyeballs fall out and you're a drooling lunatic? If that's the case, can I have your Rolex?"

I sighed. Schwarz consisted of one unpredictable berserker, one impossibly powerful telekinetic, one incredibly lucky telepath, and one unimaginably skillful leader who could see the future. I was stuck with a telekinetic bitch with a foul attitude and a pyrokinetic wisearse with a smart mouth.

"Basically, yeah," I said and handed him my watch.