Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Twilight Youji ❯ five ( Chapter 4 )

Twilight Youji 5/?

By Nix Winter

Disclaimer: I do not own Weiss Kreuz and I'm only writing this because it's fun. Maybe I'll make the story over original some day, add a lemon or something

Warnings: Religious references which may be offensive to some, references to terrorism and biological weapons

Notes: This is not a death fic, but don't let that ruin anything for you.

Twilight Youji

Demon. Not demon. The distinction was a little lost on Youji. It had been lost since Asuke's death. They had forty-five minutes to kill six people lurking in Tokyo's subway system. Youji thought he'd fucking better be a little demon to pull this off. "I think that I want to go alone," he said. "They are likely to expect an attack at the headquarters. At least they'll be better armed there. And if you take it, you can give me information on where to find their agents, can join me to take them out."

Manx shook her head. "I don't know if you should participate in this mission at all. We don't know all the effects of the curse."

That same black lightening flashed over Youji's eyes. The room felt suddenly chill to Aya.

"We need Youji-kun," Omi said, looking over printed reports that Manx had given him. "There are three main exit points to this house. Front door, back door, and a porch that leads the roof and an escape route to surrounding buildings. I will take the roof, take down anyone fleeing. Ken can enter though the rear, manually disrupt the power breakers. Aya coming through the front making as much noise as possible. They'll gravitate towards the front, and I'll be in through their network." He tapped the report. "They have a wireless connection to the internet, but it's covered by a local scrambler. I'll be close enough on the roof to tap behind the scrambler. Within fifteen minutes of initial attack, we should have probable locations for their agents. Youji-kun can already be in place on the subway, and we can start taking out agents."

"It will work just as well without Youji." Manx said. "The information we have on this curse…."

Youji snapped around to face her, interrupting, eyes narrow. Aya thought the very ends of his hair looked nearly transparent now, ghostly. "The information I have on this curse says that I'm hungry. I'm going into the subway by myself. Put the photos of the suspected agents back up again."

"Don't you understand? You don't have to wire someone to kill them now. All you have to do is touch them." Manx said, trying to drive her point home. "If you go on the trains, you may touch people you don't mean to!"

Aya was sure that Youji's curls were getting glittery transparent.

"Since when is that something new?" Youji ground out, "I'm still a member of Weiss. You have forty-five minutes until the biggest attack Japan has seen since Hiroshima. Do you really care if they die from my noose or my touch, as long as they don't take out Tokyo?"

Ken nodded. "Killing's killing. We'll argue about how after we get these guys."

"What happens to Youji if he uses this curse?" Aya asked.

"He'll be come more demon-ish. It will be harder to lift the curse, I think," Manx said, shutting off the projector. "But Ken is right. Let's deal with these monsters, then we'll deal with getting the curse lifted from Youji."

Omi had drawn his knees up to his chin. "How are you going to do that? If we destroy the Akron, what will happen to Youji then?"

"The curse will be no more," Manx said, but her tone was shifty, her guilt revealing that she had something to feel guilty for.

Youji put it more clearly. "Destroy it and I'll die. Isn't that what you're being too polite about, Manx?"

She met his eyes. In their way, they were all monsters. "Death is not the worst thing that can happen to you."

"Yeah," Youji agreed, pulling the cigarette down from behind his ear again, "but it doesn't save you from everything either. I got the subway. Get me information soon."

Aya watched him walk up the stairs and disappear. Youji couldn't become a demon. That woman, the one that had come looking for the akron said that he smelled angelic. Aya couldn't really see Youji as an angel either. Maybe it was all how one looked at it. "Let's go."

<><><>***<><><>

Youji found a pair of gloves, long ones that he'd worn to a club once. Insanely expensive soft leather, dark blue like a twilight sky, these were gloves he'd only worn once. Now he tucked the leather in between his fingers like they were a second skin, and zipped them up. Twilight blue for a twilight Youji, he thought, just hovering there between night and day, angelic and demonic.

It took only moments to dress. Going on the subway, he wore blue jeans, a dark blue oxford shirt, his gloves and a pair of running shoes. He didn't see any of the others on his way out, but when he picked up a mobile phone from the green house, he saw all the blood, his ruined shirt. That hardly seemed like it could be just that morning. It was a lifetime away and he could almost imagine his own corpse lying there on the floor, as if he'd gotten up a different creature all together.

A hungry creature, he thought, slipping out the back. There are hungers that make you smile, just because you know you're going to give into them. For the very first time, he knew someone was going to die because of him and he felt no regret at all, only that smile of a happy hunger.

The drive to the subway slipped by so quickly and left about thirty minutes until Manx had said the toxins were due to be released. It was a Saturday morning too. He hadn't thought of this until he boarded a train headed into the heart of the city. It was filled with his favorite thing, girls just old enough to be interesting. Laughing and giggling, they were like overpopulated pets in the car and the next one up too, sitting in two and threes, listening to music. Several wore tee-shirts with a logo for a music festival with what could have been that day's date. Irritated him that he didn't know what the date was.

Twenty-five minutes to go. It made him sweat. Every one of these girls, so full of life and hope, angst and romance, music and sheer potential, every one of them was at risk if he didn't find the agents with the bio toxin canisters.

"Looking for someone," a sultry female voice said, and he turned to find Marilyn Monroe, the American movie starlet, walking next to him. She wore white silk, endless diamonds, and lips so red it made his blood look drab. "You want one of them? Just touch her. She's yours. Her soul and experience will flow through you. It's sweet."

Youji passed into the next car, searching for a match to the photos of the agents. Marilyn glided through too, without using the door. "You're immortal now, you know? What are any of these flimsy little lives compared to yours? They're selfish and they've had everything you wanted."

"Shut up," Youji snapped. "They don't have anything I want!"

"You don't know yourself very well," Marilyn purred.

The girl on the other side of Marilyn looked up at him, eyes wide. "Youji-san! Are you going to the music festival too?"

He stepped back from her, but she was already flinging herself at him, arms around his neck, lips right on top of his. Hunger flared a supernova compared to the solar flare of normal passion. Time just stopped, held still, frozen in that moment of her lips to his. He skimmed over her whole life, from her favorite pair of teddy bear socks to the crush she had on him. For just a moment, he felt as if he were her, with her hopes and dreams and her shining brown eyes.

"Feed on her," Marilyn purred at his ear. "Swallow her. She is yours, offering herself to you."

Youji put his arm around her back, pulled her close to him, returned her kiss. This was what he'd hungered for. And yet.

It wasn't.

He closed his eyes in this timeless place and searched his needs, his loneliness, the hunger. There wasn't any need to lie to himself here in this place. He wanted this person that he respected, that he had given his soul too, without knowing he had. He wanted a red headed bitch of a man. The girl didn't suit him, and realizing that flicked some switch in his head, disengaged him from her soul. An overwhelming tenderness filled him for her, for how beautiful and precious she was. With one gloved hand he caressed her cheek.

Her collapse came in slow motion, eyes rolling back, head following, knees buckling, as she hung there on his arm. Her friends still had this shocked look on their faces that she'd embraced him. Outside the train's window, not more than half a meter had passed. They were just entering a tunnel.

Youji swung the girl up in his arms and set her back in her seat. There was a dreamy smile on her face, and he brushed her hair back behind her ear. He knew two things. One was that he hadn't killed her and that if there was such a thing as positive energy, she was going to feel like she'd been touched by an angel. The second was that he was going to have one bitch of a hang over from it if he didn't find someone he would 'feed' on. It was like the first time he got drunk on tequila. One just knew it was gonna hurt like a bitch later.

Backing away from her, he resumed searching the train. In the forward car, right next to the driver's cab, Youji found the agent. It was the woman in the group. A sturdy looking Russian looking woman, blond with pale eyes and broad shoulders. The train fell into darkness as it made it's way into the tunnel. She held a small grenade shaped object with a button on both ends. The protective covers were off on both ends. She'd turned to look out into the darkness, so as not to see what her fingers did.

Hunger informed him of what he needed to do and one glove was off already. He reached for her cheek. It was like a dream, where you don't know that what you do is real, but you think it is and just have to live through the dream and see.

"I know you better now," Marilyn said, whispering in his hear. "Don't you know? Angels don't get to have gay sex. Or any sex, no caressing the pretty wings, you know? You want that red headed friend of yours to hold you down, tease you, and pop your cherry, don't you? Well, that can't happen if you go angelic. No sex at all for you then."

Hunger snapped in him like a wild cut power line, snapping and spitting. "That's a lie!"

He didn't know how he knew it was, but it was. The agent's soul soaked into his skin, sank into his being like cold stale coffee. He sucked until her hands went slack and the weapon dropped to the ground. This he caught up and pocketed.

He hadn't stopped being out of sync with time, but she had stopped being everything. Her body lay, head against the cab, face relaxed, eyes open. He heard the other passengers commenting in a distorted drone. Stale coffee or not, he wasn't as hungry and he felt much more powerful. Black lightening flashed over his eyes as he glared at Marilyn. "Okay, so it's true. I want Aya. I want to be his bitch. Do you really think it matters what I want or don't want when all these lives are on the line?"

Marilyn grimaced, her upper lip drawing up in an expression of disgust. "You do have angelic blood! Ewwwww, what a pathetic wraith. Ewwww. You're going to be so lonely. The Lady wouldn't have anything to do with you, you know? You're a wraith. Cursed. We wouldn't have anything to do with you either! Nasty angel wanna be! Eeeewwww."

Youji snickered. "It's got to be worth something to have grossed out the devil, uh? I always thought I was too fucked up for hell to take anyway."

Then on a train going the other direction, passing painfully slowly back into the tunnel that the train he was on was just leaving, Youji saw the next agent. His hunger flared brightly again and he jumped before he even thought about it. Glove still off, he grabbed the man by the back of his neck, and sucked.

The same little double-ended canister dropped from his hands, spinning through the air, spraying a fine mist into the air. This soul didn't even rate being called cold coffee and Youji took just enough of it to drop the man, and be able to jump him, chasing the little canister. A little boy, just old enough to toddle after a ball reached out for the spinning grenade. His mother moving in slower motion reached for him, yelling so slowly that Youji couldn't make out the word. One hand reaching for the toxin spraying grenade, one trying to block the boy, Youji smacked into the floor, hitting chest then chin and actually pushing the kid towards the toxin cloud. He grabbed the boy, with his gloved hand, shoved him sideways into the a surprised old lady, closed his hand around the grenade, trying to close off the toxin spray with a finger on each side, then one with hand on each side. Just like he'd wanted from one train to the other, now he wanted out, with the toxin and out he got.

Dropping out of a train into the ground below the tunnel probably wasn't a very bright choice.

"Welcome to purgatory," a male voice, silky enough to send shivers up Youji's back, "Pretty little wraith."

Youji rolled over, lifted his head off of what felt like cold marble. The man was young-ish, late twenties, shoulder length deep brown hair and the golden completion of an Arab prince. He had dark almond eyes and a smile that was disconcerting in the very least. Youji glared at him.

He only smiled more. "As I said, welcome to Purgatory. I'm your new boss, Kudou-san," the man said in flawless Japanese. "You can call me Judas."