Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ When Blood Soils One's Hands ❯ Like Puppets in a Play ( Chapter 6 )

Disclaimers : Sniff… Why? Oh why can't I own Weiss Kreuz? Just for one day, an hour, a minute… Pweez!!! Alright, alright! I don't own it and never will. *goes of pouting*.

Title: When Blood Soils One's Hands

Author: Black Mirror (stone_devil_666@hotmail.com)

Pairings : Just wait and see! I'm not gonna spoil the fun.

Summary: A mission goes wrong, teenagers from a certain school start missing, love is refused… welcome to Weiss!

Type: Angst and Romance

Rating: PG-13

Status: Work in progress

Warnings: YAOI!!! Partial child-rape, blood, murder… All those lovely things we like. Don't say I haven't warned you! Oh! And there might be bad language. Yes, I've made Ken swear. }:p Oh, Raven is mine and I would beg you not to steal him. If you like him enough to steal him, I'll let you borrow him.

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When Blood Soils One's Hands

Chapter VI

Like Puppets in a Play

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// I know you feel like the walls are closing in on you

It's hard to find relieve and people can be so cold

When darkness is upon your door and you feel like you can't take anymore //

Crash and Burn / Savage Garden

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As a response to my desperate calls, Yohji and Aya were both back at the house ten minutes later. I couldn't control myself. I felt my entire body shuddering from both anger and anguish. I couldn't bring it to a halt. I just couldn't. It was like a whirlwind of negative emotions ragging inside my body. I couldn't think straight. My head was pounding and I didn't know why. I felt as if someone had thrown my heart and mind in the blender and tossed it all back in afterwards. I felt sick. . .

If there was one thing I was grateful for, it must have been the fact that it didn't seem to show all that much.

I hadn't had much time to explain everything on the phone and so my coworkers were kind of left in the dark for a while. As soon as I opened the front door, I saw their clothes dripping all over the hallway and then came the bombardment of questions. I didn't know which to answer first. Surprisingly, even Aya joined in on the interrogation.

"Ken? Ken, what the hell is going on?"

"Where's Omi?"

"What's the matter?"

"Is he alright?"

"Ken, are you alright? You seem like your about to pass out."

"Can you be more fucking clear? What the hell is going on here?"

Their nonstop questioning only increased my headache. I felt my breaths come faster and my tolerance slowly diminish to zero. I felt trapped between all these questions. They nagged and nibbled at my patience, reducing it to pulp. I was a prisoner of these walls of words and question marks. I couldn't that this much longer. At one point, I roared:

"Shut up!"

That was effective! A long thirty seconds of dead silence followed, silent as a grave. My blood pressure went down and part of my composure returned. I inhaled great breath and spoke, weighting my every word:

"I don't know anything. There was a knock on the front door and when I opened it I only found a video tape on the ground. I started watching it and, well, there was this guy and from the way he talks, it seems like he's the one who has Omi. I'm sure of it."

Yohji and Aya looked perplex. The red-head left the hall and went in the living-room where the tape still played. I followed his lead.

He stopped the recording and closed the television. He then pressed the rewind button and moved towards the adjacent wall. Shifting all of his weight onto his back, he stretched out and rested against the wall, his upper-body leaning forward a little. Droplets of water fell from his soaked hair. Each bead that hit the floor reminded me of the time that slowly passed by, like a sandglass only this one was more -well- creative. When every one of the sand crystals have fallen, the time is up and the hope dies with it. I then realized that my headache, my sort of claustrophobic sensation and my feeling ill was not due to hatred or anger: it was due to fear. I was scare as hell. . .

"I'm going to change. There's no sense in us getting sick, Aya" Yohji explained as he left the room, chilled to the bone.

I looked over to Aya and noticed he had not moved a muscle. He had remained in the same position, a small puddle forming under him. I didn't protest his stay. Why would I? Or, should I. . .

"Aya, I think you should also get out of those wet clothes. As Yohji said `there's no sense in getting the both of you sick'. I'll call you when the tape is rewinded."

Aya nodded in a very mechanical way and left the room and I was alone again. There I was, standing fearful and solitary. The walls were closing in on me. I didn't want to be left alone. I was scared. Looking through the only window in the room, I could see nothing but darkness. The sky was clouded; the stars absent; the moon omitted.

I played with the fabric of my shirt, stretching the cotton material nimbly. My hands were moist and my heart pounding. My mind carried a single image: one of Omi. `It's my job to be alright', was it really? What did he mean?

I heard a click and noticed the tape had finally finished rewinding. This wasn't like taping your favorite soaps and watching them later on in the week. We were going to watch destiny on a television screen. A destiny that for the actors was past and for us was present and future. This screen would now be our crystal ball. Learn the truth amidst its transparence. One problem remained: without the clairvoyant, how could we know what to make of it? We were trapped. The walls were closing in on us, capturing our minds and souls in this confined area were past, present and future meet. I was scared. . .

"Ken?" I heard someone ask but could not concentrate on the voice alone. The walls were closing in.

"Ken?" I tried to focus, I really did, but I couldn't remove my eyes from the television screen. Mentally, I could hear the sand hit the bottom of the sandglass. Time was fleeing and though I had no notion of time, I could sense it flow, following the course of a vicious stream. At the end of the stream there is a cascade. There. . . everyone falls and dies. The end of time. No faith, no hope.

"The tape is ready" I stated, unbelieving my own weakness. My voice was strained and far away.

There was a little rustling and the tape began a new. That same room. That same environment. That same actor, character. The Raven.

"Hell. . . o there! I'm going to be your entertainer tonight. Around here they call me `the Raven'. Why? Well, here."

I heard Yohji laugh a little at his appearance:

"What a bad fashion taste."

I couldn't even grin. I was mesmerized by his features, trying to find some hint that may help us out. Help us find Omi. One thing was sure, he wasn't an amateur. This Raven fellow was damn good.

"Gotta love black!"

That barbaric laugh again. That pierced tongue. What vulgarity!

"Now, would you like to assist to a spectacle like none other. The title is: What Happens to Those Who's Hands Are Stained? Or even better: When Blood Soils One's Hands."

I remembered stopping my watch at this exact point and was fearful yet eager to view the remaining. The `kidnapper' spoke again:

"The curtains are about to raise on my glorious play where I am the master behind the décor and you are the marionettes. And what nice puppets you all are! So fine-looking and strong-headed. I think we'll all enjoy this experience."

His ebony eyebrows came together and formed a single line, casting a shadow upon his ringed eyes. He left the screen for a moment and was back with a chair on which he sat comfortably. He had removed his butler's vest showing the full extent of his coloring. Along his arms there were several drawings. One was the image of an enraged bulldog, another of a stabbed rabbit.

"You should feel honored: I've made some new tattoos just for you. Well, actually for your little teammate You see, when ever I find a playmate, I award his passage and memory with a new drawing."

He searched his arms and I couldn't help but frown. Everyone of these was an innocent he had tortured.

"Now, now, where are you hiding little one?"

He looked down at his chest, passing over all other intriguing tattoos. From his position and shadowing, you could clearly make out the frailness of his body.

"Ah yes! I remember."

He turns around and I was shocked when I became aware of the enormous word writing in gothic letters on his upper back: sin. Under that, you could see interesting scars all lined up. They were simple to describe: four vertical lines crossed out by a horizontal one. Usually, those were used to count by pacts of five. It made it easier to count. But what could have made such scars a part from a knife. Why would someone use such a pattern.

"There you are, newcomer" he said pointing at one of the tattoos: a wilted flower. First clue: he knew about the flower shop.

"But you must be wondering how I got my hands on that nice little bishounen of yours, right? Well, you're so simple to fool. I called and ordered a flower arrangement for a certain person and asked it to be delivered tonight. I knew who made the deliveries and waited for his arrival. As he came, I told him to follow me to my wallet which was in the kitchen and one of my acolytes snatched him from the back. Kitty's in the bag."

Another laugh. He kept on mocking us as if this was a game he had planed without an effort. I just couldn't stomach it.

"And now, for the grand entry of the departed."

That was an announcement for Omi's arrival. I couldn't believe my eyes as two covered men carried him in the room. He was placed on a cross. Nothing seemed to be holding him to it, but he didn't move. The camera moved closer so that we could get a better look at him. That's when I saw why he hadn't simply rolled of that stupid cross. His hands and feet were nailed to it. That monster! How dare he? Oh my god, this isn't happening. This couldn't be happening. It was worst than I had feared at first. Not only was this Raven man completely insane, he was also a sadist. Could this event fall any lower?

"That sadistic bastard!" Yohji spat with all of his might and fury almost echoing my thoughts, "That fucking lunatic! What has he done to him? Shit, this guy's dead. I' so bringing him down!"

Throwing a vase in his direction, Aya shut him up without speaking a word. I had wondered why at first, for I knew that somewhere in Aya there was a little part of him that cared for Omi and I knew that his emotions must be quite similar to ours, but I didn't dare to ask.

I then found out why, the man behind the television glass was about to speak again.

"Oh, we ran out of rope and had to use nails. This small and meaningless change in the scenario adds a little drama, don't you think?"

There was a small pause that left us wondering. That left us to ponder on his last comment. Everyone of his sentences seemed to have been thought out. Like an actor who'd scrupulously practiced his lines and knew them faultlessly.

"He should be waking up anytime soon and then I'll be leaving you."

He walked towards Omi and licked his cheek. I felt a boiling rage inside me expand. Soon, I would blow. I knew it. I felt it deep down in my guts.

He grabbed Omi's chin and kissed his lips vehemently. He forced himself on him, violating his body and his area of proximity.

I turned my head, blocking my view. I couldn't take this. I saw Yohji looking at the screen with an utmost fury burning in his eyes. I could feel the rage radiating off both our bodies. Whoever that fool was, he wouldn't get away with what he did. Even if we had to search him out forever more.

I turned my head towards the screen again when I heard the madman speak:

"Well, seems like he's coming to his sense. Now then, I'll explain briefly what I'm going to do. I'll be sending one of these tapes everyday. You can't wait all day outside if you desire, I do not mind, but there will be a delivery every day. I expect you to try to find me or else this will be no fun. You will find my hiding place, at one point, but by then your little friend will be dead."

He raised his hand to his head and gave a military salute.

"Raven, signing out."

The screen went black. That was it. He wasn't kidding. This really was his play where we were merely puppets following his every order.

"I'm going to call Manx" Aya stated. He walked out of the room leaving us both behind. Both with walls closing in on us. Our future was already writing and we could do nothing but follow.

Then everything went black. The last thought that crossed my mind was: like puppets in a play.

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