16-Aug-2002
Breakdown: An Alternate Universe Weiss Kreutz Fanfic
by Nixerchan and bonnejeanne
Contact: nixerchan@aol.com and bonnejeanne@yahoo.com
Category: AU
Pairings: Various, or to put it another way, most of them ^__^;;
Warnings: LEMON this section. Weird premise, weird psychic powers, probably confusing plot, um, possibly some OOC, some violence, probably gratuitous use of pointless Japanese and German, what else... oh yeah, LEMON from time to time... poor Nixers, I'm such a corrupting influence... ^__~
Rating: NC-17
SUMMARY/PREMISE: What if the Weiss boys actually possessed psychic powers similar to Schwartz, which had been suppressed or erased from their memories?
AU TIMELINE: Picks up *almost* at the end of the OAV, just after the death of Gen. Norman Powell.
/something/ - may indicate thoughts, telepathy or other psychic contact.
'something' - indicates just thoughts.
Chapter 9: Gambit
Pacing was a rare activity for Schuldig. It had been years since he hadn't been able to properly vent whatever was boiling up from under the surface - a twist, a pull, the sweet taste of fear and despair of some poor soul who happened to be in range at the wrong moment. There was a temptation, now, with further restrictions, to just let it all out in one grand scheme. The idea of the people in the rest of the upscale complex collapsed on their oh so expensive carpeting, bleeding at the 'sound' of their own noise was getting more appealing by the moment.
The idea of letting the old school get a fix just to give him someone to fuck with was appealing for all of ten seconds. Then back to pacing.
Finally seeming to get tired of even that activity, he took a seat across from Crawford with every obvious sign of resignation. "Care to clue me in on a few of the particulars?" the red head asked, cupping his chin in one palm. "If you just wanted to get rid of the kid, I could do that, or coerce Weiss, I could do that even faster. This is pointless."
"You might not find it so easy to do either one as you expect," Crawford answered. "They will be playing with a different set of claws. You might survive it. Are you ready to give up on Schwartz to do it?" It wasn't a pleasant tone at the last. Crawford always seemed to come back to the good of the group, a single commitment from a man with no apparent ethics or morals.
The telepath's eyes narrowed at the thinly veiled threat, but it was almost as old of an argument as a call for self discipline and caused almost as predictable of a reaction. He sighed and waved it off, turning for a different tact. "We may be one short already, I didn't even have to brush Nagi for that one. You know the kid hates to be touched violently and look at him. He was worked over pretty good." The rest was left in the air, /And they can do it again./
"That should give you a reason to acquire a bit more caution when dealing with Bombay," Crawford replied. He took a breath, nostrils flaring slightly. "It's not decided yet. If he does indeed settle on the other side..."
"I'll turn them inside out," Schuldig interrupted, a dark look settling that didn't match the casual tone that it was delivered in.
"I didn't know you cared..." Crawford said dryly. "The situation is annoying but not as one-sided as you think. You were watching Nagi? I was watching Bombay. The dependence... goes both ways. I don't think Prodigy realizes it yet. When he does, he may return a bit more to the juvenile delinquent we know and love."
Schuldig listened, a slight smirk returning at the evaluation. "I don't care," he said finally, an elaborate shrug accompanying the words. "He'd just be hell to replace."
"The possibilities are limited," Brad said. "He could turn. It would be a pity for him not to see his seventeenth birthday but I don't give away assets. He could bring Bombay over. I don't need to tell you how unlikely that is, but it remains on the short list. The idea they had of walking from both groups... not really feasible, is it? With what Bombay has in that adorable head? Formidable as Prodigy is, it would be a grand last stand. Continuing as we have has been dropped from the board. We can be less, or more, but not the same."
Schuldig flipped a stray lock of orange hair back over his shoulder absently. He could put up with it if he just played it as another job, he decided, for a little while. So the kitties had sharper claws, if they could have, Crawford would have had them killed them before they became a threat. Between that inaction and the brief touch earlier with the enraged Bombay... "I don't like waiting," he complained. Even reaching to watch Weiss was now off limits. It used to be such an amusing little soap opera for him.
"You're going to need all that energy soon enough," Crawford said, removing his glasses. "You want to spy? Make it useful. Our possible new associates have a few problems to deal with before they can be useful. How do you feel about scoping out the queens...?"
"MM a controller and a specialist at once? You spoil me," Schuldig purred. "I assume you want a few tempting bits of gossip to lay out on the table?" The anticipation almost entirely changed the telepath's demeanor.
Crawford smiled, his nondescript eyes appearing green without the lenses in front of them. "Do what you do best... or at least the most frequently," he said. "Be careful with the controller, she's not top class, but she has other employers beyond Kritiker. It should be safe enough. From what I've gathered, Abyssinian gave her a little squeeze. Make a note of it - we need to know what he's capable of."
"Wirklich, Mutter," he replied sweetly, already getting the half there look of reaching 'out.' It didn't last long. He seemed to snap back to himself with a distinct frown. "We're about to get company and they aren't doing a damned thing to hide it."
The glasses went back on. "Let's not waste their time - or ours. Time to multitask, schatze." /Be your normal charming self, and suck everything you can get./
A quick thought was sent to the Irishman in warning before refocusing his attention to their approaching guests. Schuldig took a gun from one of the desk drawers and flipped the safety off. Bullets were still faster than kinetics. He rested the other hand on the doorknob and gave Crawford an almost impish look. "Just tell me when."
"I'm sure I won't have to," the American replied. He stood up and opened the door just as the person on the other side was knocking, causing their fist to plunge through the air.
The gun was immediately at the man's temple, uncanny speed taking advantage of the momentary distraction and unbalance that the trick offered to get past whatever shields were there. Only Crawford would have noticed the imperceptible distraction and thickness of the German's voice as he shot Brad a mock-sour look. "You take all my fun from me." /Telepath,/ the thought in the American's mind was curt and faint. /Almost my level... almost./
Their guest straightened carefully, signs of strain much more visible on his features. His hands raised with the same slow deliberation and he cleared his throat. "This is not an attack. I have a message for the oracle."
Crawford simply stared back at the man. "Don't step backwards."
The man froze, giving away the tension of some intended movement. A faint trickle of sweat worked it way down the side of his face even as the man's sharp featured composed themselves into neutrality. "Killing me will not be useful, your location is already known," he said, fixing a level stare at Crawford, "This is simply a warning and an offer. We will overlook your presence again as long as you continue to make it unobtrusive. Involvement into affairs will be considered a provocation."
Crawford smiled unpleasantly. Ignoring the second part of the man's statement - the real message - he said, "Observe what the later classes are turning out, Mastermind." To the man in front of him, "You have such a narrow understanding of usefulness. 'Our location is known.'" The unpleasant smile became an unpleasant smirk. "For example, it would probably relieve the tensions in my associates: they would enjoy it," he spelled out as if to an idiot. A soft laugh behind the man and a sharp prick through the thick material of his jacket revealed the reason behind Oracle's initial instructions.
Unexpectedly, the man simply returned the smile. "Older classes are so inflexible." The man deliberately let down all of his shields at once, causing the redheaded telepath to stagger at the sudden recoil.
/He's a double!/ Schuldig's warning came at exactly the same time as the vision of the attack, both an instant to late to stop the force knocking all three back. Both of the hands holding weapons were paralyzed, and the distinct feeling of air being cut off was universal.
"That is all," the man said with a contemptuous look, turning to walk around the man in the doorway. "Consider it our last offer of lenience."
He managed to get a bare step beyond the suffocating white haired boy before he was rocked by a left-handed punch to the kidney. Face turning blue, tongue starting to protrude a little, the Irishman managed to grin.
The man choked and staggered, falling half against the far wall. A flare of blinding pain caused his concentration to lapse just enough. The man's eyes went wide in terror, pupils dilating almost to the point where they overtook the irises under an unseen attack.
Schuldig drew a few harsh breaths from where he'd fallen. He didn't bother to pick up the gun again, just focused the rest of his energy on keeping the messenger paralyzed. "Have.. fun with em," he growled.
Farfarello shook his head sharply, the grin widening as his right hand returned to his control. He decided to start by putting the spike through the organ he'd abused with his fist.
The spike retracted, smeared with blood, to the music of a scream. Before Farfarello could take the next shot - his eyes were tracking a spot between two vertebra - Crawford said, "Let him go."
Knowing Schuldig wouldn't obey immediately, he walked over and gave the messenger, who was on the hall floor, a sharp kick. "Better run. We'll... think about it."
The man's second scream was a more pitiful, hoarse sound, reeling from both the pain of the kick and the none too gentle withdrawal of Mastermind. He simply shuddered a moment, before getting up in the too-smooth way that spoke more of kinetics than muscles. There had to have been enough panic or adrenaline in the man to withstand the pain of the wound because, clutching his side, he managed to get a good distance unaided. From the junction of the hallway, a female's hands steadied the messenger, holding him upright for a moment, before both of them disappeared.
Crawford laughed, turning around to run his hand across Farfarello's head. "Sorry," he said affectionately. "I owe you one." He looked at Schuldig. "You too. Owe you both some real fun."
The German let his hand fall from its protective place across his throat. His eyes flashed as they met Crawford's again. "The kittens better sort it out fast," he said, "We've got a little less than a week before the real fun starts." The idea of staying out of it now was almost unthinkable. He gave Crawford a renewed smirk, and the taste of an overlapping memory. "I'll hold you to that."
Crawford returned the expression, taking the steps to close the distance between them, reaching up to push the German against the wall. He seemed suddenly a bit euphoric. As a door down the hallway opened and another resident of the complex looked out to see what the sounds in the hall were, she got an eyeful of the American grinding the redhead against the wall in a rather pornographic kiss.
Farfarello whistled.
The woman got quite a bit more than what her curiosity had bargained for, in a vivid mental picture of what exactly the orange haired man wanted to do to the other, right there in the hallway. At the hurried slam of the door, Schuldig threw himself fully into the return of the kiss, his hand finding a grip on Crawford's ass, without any care for either the pale boy's catcalls or the public nature of the spot.
A snicker slid across the American's mind, /Least it doesn't matter if I behave,/ the thought was both triumphant and promising.
/You always misbehave so wonderfully,/ the answering thought was a caress, a confirmation of the rare switch in Crawford's normally cool nature. Frequently cold, when he flipped, the change was startling. Pressing his hips into Schuldig's, he said over his shoulder, "We're moving. Don't want any tag alongs.... Go hunting."
Farfarello grinned widely. Lifting his weapon to lick the blood of the messenger from it, he retracted the now clean blade and left the hallway. Anyone left by those who had sent the messenger to keep tabs on them was now fair game.
The movement tore a groan from the telepath, but the following command wasn't lost in the rush. The decision was already made, that'd leave more than enough time. /Almost ain't right without a disgusted sigh,/ the thought was given with equal parts of amusement, lust and dwindling distraction as the German broke just long enough to pull the other man through the door.
A rare mental chuckle from the American as he allowed himself to be maneuvered. /How about a disgusted sigh... and a shocked blush.../ Brad reached up and pulled the scarf from around the German's hair.
More than one button skittered across the floor as the clairvoyant's shirt was pulled at with more force than necessary, and with the anticipation of the man who knew exactly what the reaction to it was going to be. The humor was returned at the mental picture it inspired. /I'm beginning to see the appeal of this plan./
Crawford removed his glasses and dropped them on the nearest flat surface. Reaching down, his hand found the front of the redhead's crotch and fastened there. /I thought you might come around once you thought about it.../ the tone was again caressing, affectionate, as well as aroused. In a few hours he'd return to the colder, flatter persona. For now, a man perhaps only Schuldig had ever gotten to see fully was one more completely alive.
There hadn't been much conversation going on, but what little there was died down as the two youngest boys left the dressing room. Youji sat a distance away from the other two finishing a cigarette that he'd ducked out for while Aya and Ken had disappeared. He crushed it under the toe of his boot and gave the two something of a lazy wave and a glance at the darker haired boy.
"Next time, just leave a note on the door," he said, a faint half smile on his face and a glance towards Omi, "I *am* rather accommodating you know," he teased.
Omi answered with a blush and a slight ducking of his head. He wasn't entirely sure what the tall blond was talking about but he felt a little bad about the fact that it probably wasn't going to be possible to share a room except in emergencies. He did trust Youji not to begrudge him the afternoon's exhaustion.
The other boy had no hesitation in taking the lead, sitting across from Aya, trying to keep in mind the explanations and warnings of Omi's. Nagi didn't bow - he didn't even give that to Crawford - but gave the swordsman a nod of acknowledgement, keeping enough distance without seeming out of reach either.
Aya seemed a great deal less on edge. His demeanor was cool, serious, but something have evidently allowed him to release or let go of a portion of the tension. He looked like a man who could make decisions based on logic rather than emotion. He met Nagi's look directly. "Make your proposal," he said quietly.
"Simply a meeting to discuss current and future relationships," Nagi replied. "You may set the place and time if you wish, come armed or not. A pooling of information is desirable, if not resources."
"Why?"
Dark blue eyes narrowed for a moment. "I don't make the decisions," he said coolly, then paused and seemed to force himself to relax to some degree. "I'm not sure." The admittance was hesitant, but followed closely by the rest. "Oracle's been picking up more than a few visions. This is apparently the best course, the... personal situation aside."
Aya glanced briefly at Kan and Youji. "I'm surprised. I would have thought the best course would be to find us, and turn us over to whoever would pay."
"Money is not our primary motivation," Nagi replied, "And at this rate, you'll get yourselves caught before we could turn any profit over." He broke eye contact just long enough to take in the reaction of the rest of Weiss. There was a definite aura of waiting, whatever happened would be between himself and Aya, and probably, if any arguments came, it would be long after he was out of the range of conversation.
Omi spoke up. He'd been thinking about this, and while he didn't have a bias towards one side of the discussion or other, he was fairly certain on his own that whatever Schwartz's angle was, it wasn't that straightforward.
"There's a reason we were all brought together, and a reason we were blocked. And, I think, a reason we keep encountering each other. We were being held back for something. That's what we need to find out. I think maybe they want to know this as well."
Prodigy considered it and nodded slowly. "Besides, I'm sure you can handle evading or even striking your organization, but it would be easier with assistance."
"Just a minute ago you said you thought we were going to 'get ourselves caught'," Aya said. He held up his hand before the dark haired boy could react to that. "Omi said Birman was a plant. What do you know about who she's working for?"
Nagi shook his head, forestalling the second question. "We were never concerned with Kritiker," he said, "And it would be to my disadvantage to really say much more before you agree."
/It's not enough,/ Omi sighed mentally. /There's not enough to go on. All I have are impressions.../ Taking a deep breath, he said, "I think Crawford is serious. I know it's not much to go on, but he had something on his mind and it wasn't a chance to finally get rid of Weiss."
Aya held up his hand a second time, and Omi fell silent. Turning deliberately to the other two, he took a survey with his eyes.
Youji had a thoughtful expression on, watching Omi carefully. Noticing Aya's look, he tilted his hand back and forth before turning it into a thumbs up. /Okay, but with caution./
It wasn't as easy for Ken, the time had already passed for a pure reaction, and more than a few considerations were bothering the athlete. He glanced past the telekinetic to look at Omi, "Enough to work with the rest of them?" he asked, not liking the question any more than having to ask it, but...
Omi took a moment to marshal his thoughts before answering. "I'm not sure." He shrugged helplessly. "I don't understand their dynamic, it's different from ours," he grimaced slightly as he stated the obvious. "When we met with them... Schuldig was frustrated. Farfarello was...." he considered and finished with, "Curious. I think Crawford had a head start on it that Nagi showed up with me, but it... it wasn't the thing most on his mind. I didn't have the impression he'd shared his concerns with the others at that point. But he hadn't had much time to..."
He nibbled his thumb for a couple of moments and said, "Nagi said they're independent. But there has to be something to be independent from..."
Nagi's face hardened a little with displeasure before the expression cleared. It was hard to remember that Omi, in this, was separate, still a part of Weiss. 'Whatever it takes,' he reminded himself, closing up a little.
Across from them, Ken took the explanation with a helpless shrug in Aya's direction. "We can go with weapons, it's all we've ever had before," he said. "Might as well figure out if we are going to have another problem before we're in the middle of it."
Omi felt Nagi's reaction, not that it was a surprise. /I'm not telling any state secrets,/ he nudged the other boy very slightly. /If your leader is as smart as he seems to be, he'd expect me to report what I observed. You'll have to do the same./
Nagi glanced back over at Omi, admitting to himself it was half out of an excuse to break eye contact with a controller. The worst of that danger was over, but it was still unsettling. /I understand that. But this is also my obligation. The less you pick up from me, the less you'll have to give them./
The return was a simple acknowledgement and a fine tingle of something very near contentment. Omi didn't expect or even want to argue or persuade. He was simply satisfied to have some kind of continued contact. His attention settled back on his team mates.
Aya took a moment to consider, or maybe he was just keeping the Schwartz boy waiting, it was hard to tell.
"Meeting agreed to. However, these are the conditions: Schwartz provides the place, vouches for external security, and all members are visible at all times. We will adhere to the last as well. If nothing comes of it, the truce between the two groups lasts for twelve hours afterwards before any hostile action is initiated on either side."
A quick reach to Schuldig came back with just a growled /Later,/ a bit of a headache as a warning and just enough of the reason to elicit an exasperated sigh from the boy. 'Fine, they can deal with what I set.' He didn't bother to hide the sudden annoyance. With delicate press on the bridge of his nose, he nodded to Aya. "That should be acceptable."
Aya watched him for a moment. Then he nodded. He looked at Omi. "I need you back at work," he growled softly.
The blond nodded. "No problem. Um... food? I process better with fuel...."
Aya glanced at Youji and Ken. They all needed some equivalent for dinner. "We'll take care of it," he said. A last glance at Nagi. "Let me know as soon as you confirm that. "
A passing look of annoyance and perhaps even a bit of color to the younger boy's cheeks wasn't directed at Aya. "It might be a little while," he replied dryly.
Ken stood up, putting his fists on the small of his back to stretch a little. "Chinese okay with everyone?"
"Anything but pizza at the moment," Youji replied.
Aya got to his feet as well. He looked at Youji. "You need to get out for a while or are you ok?"
Youji shrugged. "Unless forced, I'm looking forward to recovering my beauty sleep. Unlike some other people," he gave Aya a quick assessment and leer. "I can't hold off the world and still look stunning without my ten hours."
Omi grinned at the older blond. "Only sensational," he agreed with mock regret.
"Far too close to a simple 'good looking,'" Youji replied. "For lack of my audience, I still have an apprentice who requires guidance in these dry times."
"Maybe two!" Omi replied, and got up quickly, as if preparing to run.
Aya rose and joined Ken. "We should probably stay in pairs when we go out," he said, ignoring Youji's quip. "Don't wander off, dinner will be here shortly."
Youji smirked at Aya. He didn't think he'd ever seen Prodigy's eyes that wide as he stared at Omi, now to try for two. "I don't know, should we really let you two out without a chaperone? For the sake of hot dinner of course." If nothing else, the ex-soccer player was turning an interesting shade around the ears.
Aya threw Youji a look that was more reminiscent of their usual exchanges. Without answering or waiting for someone else to, he gave Ken a slight push at the small of the back.
Even caught off guard, Ken recovered his footing quite quickly, and with something of a deeper flush started for the door a step beside Aya. Youji's shoulder shook with silent amusement before he finally slid to his feet himself. He waved a hand in the general direction of the backstage counter. "The laptop's still over there," he said. "Let me know if you need me to find another room for the time being. We'll probably be moving pretty soon anyway."
Omi shook his head. "Go ahead," he said, his expression affectionate. "We'll find another spot close by. There are futons folded up in the prop room, probably get one of those and drag it somewhere."
Youji smiled and clasped Omi's shoulder briefly as he passed. "Suit yourselves," he said and waved over his shoulder. "Let me know when the food gets here."
"Sure thing!" Omi agreed.
TBC