10-Oct-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 13: Unholy Aliiances
Going to the next door, Omi stuck his head in. "Shower now - Aya's coming out in ten."
The reply wasn't any louder, but it wasn't printable either.
The first to make it out before the declared ten minutes was Ken, still in the process of pulling the last garment, his shirt, on as he slipped through the door. He gave Omi a wave and a drawn smile before giving the coffee machine a look of heartfelt disappointment. "Need to make 'em to refill themselves," he said, reaching for the grounds.
"Sorry, Ken-kun," Omi said. He glanced at his laptop next to the futon. /I should check the net for anything new, although if Kritiker think I'm a possible problem, they'll be forced to keep things off the wire./ He snickered at the mental image of the organization attempting to function without its network.
The sudden humor drew Ken's attention, but besides a curious look, he didn't ask. "Don't worry about it, I should have been up a while ago."
/Or just plant the wrong information entirely. It's something we'd do at least,/ Nagi offered.
Omi grinned. /The problem with that is that in a trusted network, if you plant false info, you have to have some way to let people inside know it's false, or else half your operatives head off in the wrong direction. They don't have any provisions for that. It's not like information anyone else could intercept, like WWII radio messages or something. If they file false reports, banks crash. The wrong people get out of jail. Stuff like that. So the only thing they can do is just not use it, go back to paper and messengers./
/Or use another network entirely./ A bit of uncertainty from Nagi pervaded. /All they'd need is one 'path with good range. Paper's for mundanes./
Omi nodded thoughtfully, even as he pulled open the laptop and began making his checks. /Problem is, *most* of Kritiker *is* mundanes, and all knowledge of anything else is... above restricted. So they couldn't use that for regular business. But point taken./
Aya appeared, dressed and geared up, which meant long coat and katana in its hidden pocket. He wandered over to the percolating coffee pot. His eyes ran across the two boys consideringly but he didn't make any comments.
Youji, of course was the last out, skimming just a little under fifteen minutes. His overcoat he'd slung over one shoulder and his free hand was lightly curled around a pair of shades. He yawned and sauntered over to the folding chair he'd discarded yesterday. "I'm sorry Nagi," he said, paying no attention to the silence in the room. "But I just can't help but think Schwartz is evil. There's just no other explanation for 8 o'clock in the morning."
Omi chuckled. Nagi shrugged, a slight smirk playing across his face. "You'd be too creeped out if we started getting convenient now."
"You underestimate Youji's tolerance for convenience," Omi said, finishing his scans and shutting down the laptop.
"I was just hoping for respectable," Youji replied, sinking down in the chair far enough to rest the back of his head on the top of the chair's back. "Like... three in the afternoon. Four if you were going for gentlemanly."
Getting the second cup to come out of the fresh pot, Aya looked around. "If something breaks loose, compass spread. Regroup plan Bluewhite."
The announcement wasn't met with any protests. From his sprawl, Youji managed a slight nod without bothering to open his eyes again. Ken gave a brief look of acknowledgement moving to refill his own cup again.
There was a faint mental shrug from Nagi. /I'll just follow you./ A slight tone of amusement. /I'll probably be told to do it anyway./
Omi winked at Nagi. /Compass spread means a four direction split. The regroup plan is a specific number of hours of no contact, then contact attempt only a certain specific intervals. Any contact off the pattern means compromise./
/Effective,/ the other boy acknowledged.
The directions had been short and simple, leading the assassin group through the open air garden. There wasn't a crowd, but they weren't alone on the carefully plotted out pathways as early morning tourists took in the lush expanses of cultivated greenery.
The 'security' of such a location might have been in question if, in that short trip, it hadn't slowly become apparent that none of the people that they passed seemed to actually look at any one of them, some distraction or site catching attention before Weiss was even truly noticed.
The directions ended at a rest stop, a simple bench in front of a tree-lined lake.
Nagi gave Omi's had a subtle squeeze and a flash of reassurance between them before stepping past the group and crossing the distance left by Weiss. He gave Crawford a slight nod before taking a place to one side of the American.
Oracle raised on eyebrow but he smiled slightly, the ironic twist to it characteristic. He took a moment to examine the unusual outfit. Without his school uniform Nagi actually looked very slightly older. Even though his expression was on the surface, impassive, the depth behind his eyes was consistent with what they had seen yesterday.
The observation took only a few seconds, as Crawford returned his full attention to the four who faced them. Passing over Omi for the time being, he concentrated on the other three. Balinese appeared to be reacting to the earliness of the hour, wary and suspicious, exactly what one would expect of Weiss in these circumstances. There was no hint of any deeper changes, no profound difference from the man they had faced many times before.
Siberian too seemed to be reacting in character for him, but his eyes betrayed signs of something radically shifted, something that hadn't been adjusted to. His formation next to the red-haired swordsman was tighter than usual, body language aggressive, but with signs betraying strain, tension, a tightly held look. *One of the wild talents,* Crawford thought assessingly.
The center of the small group was Abyssinian. Again, on the surface, the same cold/fiery assassin of before, but here too Crawford saw signs of something deeply altered. He was almost as tightly wound as Hidaka, while at the same time, there was a startling sense of controlled power.
Flickering a briefer glance over Bombay, he made a note of the almost settled impression. He was the least openly wary, his attitude not one of acceptance but closer to a near neutrality. His attention never stayed far from Nagi for more than a few seconds, but he was doing a great deal of observation of his own in those quick surveys.
/One agent, but not here on business,/ Schuldig reported to him, the distraction in covering nearly the entire gardens evident in the distance of the voice. /She's being rerouted. All clear besides./
Crawford allowed his attention to refocus for a few seconds, doing his own kind of check. /Sufficient. You can pull back, there's a clear window for the next ten minutes./
The telepath's entire stance changed, he flipped a lock of hair back and smirked, swaying back to lean against the dark wooden fence. His eyes narrowed on Weiss, lingering almost possessively on two of them. About time," the German sighed out loud, giving in to a slight stretch. /Too bad, they're so wound up, it'd be so easy to tweak them a little,/ the thought got to Brad as both a wry comment and a sly request.
/My turn takes priority,/ the responding thought was characteristically cold.
"There's no point in stretching this out," the American began. "This meeting is a result of the drastic changes in the game, the board and the players over the last few days. After assessing the situation, we've become aware of the possibility that an alignment might be of benefit to both our groups. Any return to your former employer will render this option null and void. We have no interest in lackeys, only in independent contractors."
Aya answered, after only a brief moment. "Understood." His deep voice gave no indication of either agreement or disagreement.
"Since you are still here, I will continue," Crawford showed no indication that he expected anything else. "In return for assistance to be specified at a later date, Schwartz could be in a position to make your... severance from your former employer more effective. That could include an agreement of mutual protection on the part of both groups against any outside agency, as well as one of mutual non-aggression."
"Just a clarification," Youji spoke up, settling on the back of his heels, and a wry smile on his face, "Making sure non-aggression goes beyond conventional weapons...."
Crawford's smile increased by a fraction. "Certainly. Such tricks and deceptions are for dealing with mundanes."
"People who can't catch you at it," Youji's response was muttered, but it carried well enough.
This earned a wide smirk from Schuldig. "I'm sure you're familiar with the practice," the nasal voice replied, taking on a syrupy tone. The shades didn't quite hide Balinese's flinch.
"Internal relationships within each group to be off limits," Aya said coldly, not looking at the telepath though the comment was clearly an answer.
"Mmm?" Schuldig took no heed of the warning, turning instead to look at Aya with some satisfaction. "What *are* you going to do about Bombay then, I wonder?"
Aya ignored the telepath in a complete shut-out, locking eyes with Crawford.
The American allowed himself a moment of grudging acknowledgement. "Understood."
Aya waited a moment, then said, "Protection, non-aggression. Select disclosure."
Crawford's eyebrow lifted, but it was a formality. He'd known this would come up. "Selective disclosure pending renegotiation."
There were several beats of silence.
Then Aya said, "Agreed."
Nagi didn't look up, as if paying neither Schwartz or Weiss any attention at all. "Proximity," he said calmly, directed at both leaders.
"Mutual protection at this stage can be best accomplished by relative close quarters," Crawford said smoothly, without a hint of a smile. Nevertheless, Nagi could detect the amusement through long familiarity.
Aya pulled back a bit on that one. Not having the luxury of a telepath in the group, he took inventory with his eyes: Youji, Omi, Ken.
Youji's attention was fixed mostly on Omi at that, with the occasional glance back at Prodigy. There wouldn't be much help from that quarter. Ken had settled back a bit, stance still guarded, but open enough to say that he'd deal with it if that was the decision made.
Omi found himself running through a number of scenarios. The connection had strengthened enough over the last twenty four hours that the small distances had become easier; more noticeable was the fact that Nagi was blocking a bit, probably to protect him. But he could feel the strain on the other boy through what was maintained, and on himself.
"If it's a problem, there's another option," he said quietly. Then he grinned slightly. "Call it a weird sort of student exchange program. Or..." the humor couldn't be smothered even in light of the seriousness of the situation, "Shared custody... you know... specific times at each 'household'...?"
Mastermind smirked and shot Nagi a look, causing a distanced sort of silence to fill the air between them. Whatever conversation or at least exchange of comments were between them, it never got farther than muted noise to Omi. When something of a more direct connection was established, it was short and clipped. /You know who you'll be living with. Not the same as me with Weiss./
/I know./ The return was calm. /They've all done a lot to work with this. I've been thinking about it as a possibility for a while. If it's either all of us, all together, or just me, it's the same thing so if it's better this way, I can deal./
The acknowledgement wasn't mental, just a slight nod from the boy standing across from him, and a brief meeting of eyes.
Aya regarded Omi behind his habitual cool mask for a long moment. "In the situation of a shared abode between... talents," he said evenly, returning his attention to Crawford, and using the word without complete ease, "I would expect the concept of privacy to be stringent. Otherwise things could become unacceptable - on both sides."
"A little lesson in privacy then," the German said, leaning back casually. "Most of the time, I'm not looking, and don't give a damn either. Don't want me to hear it, figure out how to keep it down, I'm not spending the rest of this engagement with a tension headache because you can't stop shouting." To Crawford, the addition came with a burst of irritation and fatalistic tension, /No compromise on this one./
The American held an impression out clearly for the telepath, a pair of deft hands massaging his temples. And a combination acknowledgement, with a slight touch of characteristic ironic amusement. /You realize you're going to end up a trainer.../
/I hope you're prepared to do that a lot,/ the reference to the image and a faint air of resignation was as close to a direct agreement as Crawford was going to get. /Something better happen soon, because I want to take my time at ripping someone apart./
/I'm prepared to do quite a lot to get what I want, you know that./ The answer was cool but with an underlying slither of intimate reminder.
Aloud, he answered, without missing a beat, "Both arrangements may serve on appropriate occasions."
Aya directed his gaze to Nagi, and raised an eyebrow as if to say, 'Well?'
Nagi was quiet for the span of a few heartbeats, midnight blue eyes sweeping over both groups with an air of assessment. "Together, leaving the second option if that fails," he said, an automatic glance toward Crawford.
The precog of course looked like he'd expected it to come out this way all the time. He glanced back at Aya. Then he extended his hand, the seal his native culture stamped any formal arrangement with.
There was less than half a beat, before the swordsman's gloved hand slowly crossed the intervening space to take Crawford's in a reserved, but firm grip.
The American fought back a shiver of reaction as his sense reacted, the shiver of deja-vu felt a little like a ground tremor to the precog as a line of probabilities shifted and clicked into place. As the two men disengaged, the fourth member of Schwartz who had been quiet through the entire negotiation laughed softly.
/Scan,/ the thought from Crawford to Schuldig had the snap of an order. The ten minute window was closing.
The order was followed out immediately, a quick flash over the entire and now familiar area, washing briefly over Aya and Omi's senses, before a slower, more thorough check slid around them and beyond. It wasn't what was right out in the open that he paid any attention to at all, it was a hole in his senses that caused the alarm. /Focus north, quarter mile./
/Details,/ Crawford snapped. At the same time he 'looked' ahead. /Insultingly obvious... however.../ To Schuldig, /Aloud./
"Hope you kittens have had some practice," Schuldig's voice had the overtones of eagerness. A simple hop, almost blurringly fast had the telepath balanced on a post for the fence staring first to the north, then around a bit more suspiciously, a little too used to what Crawford's reservation could imply.
Omi felt a hard pull from within him and a change settled over Nagi, a deeper hardening in preparation. The increase in power that came with the adjustment became charged, almost visible around the too-calm boy.
Nagi in turn felt a shift from the blond assassin that was like a switch clicking over. /East./ The thought was clipped, emotions cool.
Each member of Weiss shifted subtly but instantly, the set of four shoulders rotating in four directions. In a preset pattern, Balinese took north, Siberian west and Abyssinian south. A sudden chill seemed unseasonable and strange.
/Mastermind, stick to Abyssinian, Farfarello - Balinese,/ Crawford projected, leaving it to Schuldig to pass the instruction to the Irishman. Prodigy's tag could be assumed. Nostrils flaring, an odd smile stretched Crawford's lips as he focused on Siberian. /Keep sharp, schatze, you have the fun path./
The approach didn't come from any side, but rather appeared directly in their midst. A small, terribly young looking Chinese woman stood between the two groups, facing Schwartz. Her hands were folded gently in front of a fine red silk dress and the fall of glossy black hair didn't quite cover a scar that ran from temple to chin. "You're refusal is unfortunate," she spoke quietly, her smile showing nothing of regret. With a bow to Crawford, the apparition faded.
For a long moment, there was nothing but silence over the remote rest area, the placid brush of wind through leaves mixed with the faint creak of leather or rustle of cloth as one or another shifted uneasily. The change happened subtly, marking still no appearance, but a threading of pressure, one overlapping another, increasing in weight and speed.
Nagi shifted immediately, a wash of faint white pushing it to the side. The water of the pond stirred then became choppy as the pressure ran off sharply. A loud wooden groan echoed over the garden as the fence bowed, disturbing Schuldig's balance.
/Watch it,/ the though was more automatic than venomous.
/This is from the north./
/Got it./ Schuldig's grin was wide as he mentally pulled from Aya quickly to lash out in the direction that the telekinetic had indicated, even as the swordsman moved in to shadow the telepath. In the short space of time, Crawford 'saw' the delicate hands of the Chinese woman rest on Aya's shoulders, the same time a wave of pure malice permeated Omi's senses.
Youji split the formation for a flash of movement, wire drawn, the Irishman close and soon overtaking him, spike drawn. Aya's vision wavered for just an instant, then refocused. A flash of movement, a glint of light drawing his attention to the gun Crawford drew, and the triumphant sneer given. The American's aim shifted, focusing on Ken beside him, and the finger holding the trigger pulled tight.
Aya's weapon was out in an instant reflex, at the same moment another, more recent but somehow frighteningly comfortable one sharpened the focus in his mind.
Omi's reaction to the sudden and all but overwhelming emotion and both its source and its focus was an instinctive blast of his own, pure warning/concern/protective feeling channeled towards the Weiss leader.
The powerful wash froze Aya for a second, shaking his focus and causing the illusion in from of him to ripple, shreds of another scene, the American with empty hands, flickering behind it before it firmed.
Crawford's eyes narrowed, teeth gritting. A bullet he could dodge, likewise a katana. The strength he felt coming from Abyssinian, no... "Watch for illusions," he hissed at Siberian, without taking his eyes off Aya.
Siberian nodded, taking a protective step towards Aya and the second set of claws triggered with a *tzzink*. The frustration building up laid a thin film of frost on the surface of the nearby water, as the athlete's vision changed, showing patterns of temperature over the 'normal' view. Green eyes shifting focus from the western path looking for some, any, sign of a target, and Abyssinian, who he could literally feel the guard going up in.
The motion just caught from the corner of Aya's eye translated into a half successful dodge, Crawford's comment swallowed by the report of the gunshot. Another layer slid into place, the outside touch of Omi's holding the flavors of panic and the warning amplified, the paranoia of control and a focus on Prodigy standing a bit too close to Bombay.
The vision wavered again, this time almost unnoticeable, but at the familiar, almost metallic presence of Schuldig. /... idiot....-ot real.../ Only anger and a sense of struggle made it through with the fragments.
The mistake in the attack was simple. The woman's appearance just before, and an underestimation of Aya's paranoia and the twists it was capable of. A sharp pain sliced through his head as he gripped his own impulses, and the katana lashed the air like a cat clawing at shadows.
Omi focused on the direction the threatening emotion had come from. /There!/ he channeled the information to Nagi at the same moment he threw his weapons, praying some innocent was not in the line of fire.
The same force that typically turned the darts back on Omi fastened around them and pushed adding unnatural speed and force to their path. The same guidance was what let Nagi know that only one had hit, the rest stopped or diverted by another presence. He passed along the vague sense of the group, an instinctive shield condensing around himself and the empath beside him in case whoever had diverted the darts decided to send them back.
Crawford felt the focus from Aya reach for his mind, and felt it... hang there. /Schuldig!/ It was practically a scream. /You wanted to sharpen your claws on someone, take that Chinese bitch out!/
Schuldig's snarl was visible. "She's got a null with her," he growled, at the edge of a rage as that option was stolen from him. The direct way wouldn't work... but... he pushed back towards Aya, using all the speed he had to get a hand on the assassin. He grit his teeth, waiting for the strike, but pushed in hard anyway, bypassing Aya's mind to race for the source. Almost instantly, the vision in front of Aya shattered as the illusionist retreated quickly.
A cold voice *from* Aya's mind but somehow not sounding like anything Schuldig had ever heard in the swordsman's thoughts before pulsed against him. /Where?/ It was a demand for direction and there was no patience in it.
There was a faint recoil, an instinctive urge to buck the command from far older training in the telepath, then a sense of lost ground. Words weren't spared. The answer was given in a direct burst of shared knowledge.
What the telepath was able to provide went beyond proximity or line of sight. Aya felt the mind of the target, recognized the touch, felt the presence of something close by that was nothing so much as a hole in his mind, the hole overlapping with the target in some odd way but apparently not enough to prevent him from locating her with a sense he'd never experienced. Releasing the control that was already cutting through his head like electric fire, he reached, the power behind it twice or three times what he'd managed with Birman.
/Shi-ne!/
What came back along the double connection wasn't pleasant. The sensation of the woman's mind ripping in half as the somatic portions of her brain forced a shut down, while her conscious mind rebelled trying anything in a fit of melting terror. There wasn't time for her even to scream, just a dizzy, half awareness of her colleagues panicking as she crumpled, face first onto the dirt.
A cold, hard vacuum uncurled, trying to find purchase around either one of them, trying to drag them with her. It left a faint imaginary feeling of burn along Aya's physical body as he was yanked back forcibly by Schuldig's withdrawal.
Exhilaration/fear/lust/pride/awe/understanding all washed over Ran's mind as the one he was in contact with came down. /We *will* do that again./ The thought curled in his consciousness like a caress as the telepath withdrew.
The scuffle to the north had been quicker, 'quieter', and over rapidly, as the Irishman led Youji unerringly to the decoy attempting retreat.
To any outside observer, neither's battle style had changed the slightest, moving with the contrast of trained efficiency and unrestrained aggression. The decoy had been weaker, more on the edge of physical abilities and never truly even had a chance. Their first attacks had gone to the known menace, trying everything, anything against the Irishman, only to have each any every one of them prove ineffective.
But before any focus could reshift to take Youji, one by one a mistake would become fatally apparent in those facing Farfarello, a shot that seemed a little too wide, an inexplicable slippery feeling upsetting footing, the momentary blinding of leaves, ripped off by a passing wind... If a spike didn't sink into flesh, a razor wire did.
Favoring the tall blond with a grin that had enough appreciation to be disturbing, the Irishman crooked his finger, and then disappeared into a trail of barely moving foliage as he began circling towards the east, drawn to a odd sense of like polarities with almost magnetic attraction.
The moment Omi felt Aya focus and release the mental command to die, he pulled back, all but diving into Prodigy's cool darkness as if taking cover from a fragmentation explosion, closing down his senses entirely to the link between them and nothing else.
Attention still focused outward, the pressures from the group at all directions were dwindling a little, giving him enough to wrap a little completely around Omi, moving both himself and the other boy into a protective shadow. Within, a sense of protectiveness and steady determination encircled the boy in quite the same manner, trying to provide some semblance of safe.
Physically moving to stand in front of Bombay, Nagi set his stance and redoubled the effort, turning the defense into an attack.
/More../ Schuldig reported to Crawford, traces of the near-sexual euphoria still clinging to his presence. /Need to get out./
Crawford's answer was immediate, the respite giving him what he needed to reach for options and select. /North, one o'clock and brace yourself. Public transport accident in two minutes, the emotional/mental surge will cover us. Regroup on the yacht./
Schuldig nodded, a brief search not finding Bombay, then directed to Prodigy. /If you know where he is, keep him there./ He didn't wait for the kinetic's response before relating direction quickly to each. That accomplished, he closed down in as many ways as he could and still function, preparing to retreat at any more visible signal.
Crawford dropped a hand on Ken's shoulder. "This way... and stop freezing the pond, it's drawing attention."
The look Siberian gave Crawford wasn't quite focused, somehow its attention centering around him rather than at the American himself. "Right," the affirmative was muttered, and there was a sense of release, but not return as the assassin spun to follow.
Farfarello's disappointment at receiving the message to retreat was visible and audible. His too-soft lips pursing in a slight pout, he jerked his head at the taller blond. "Time to go away, leave a few to kill another day..." Non-challantly he snagged Youji's sleeve and pulled him back in the direction from which they came, not without a few backwards looks of longing.
Youji's wire paused in mid air, coiling like a snake, before whipping back quickly to shed the clinging blood. He shook his head as he forced it to retract to his wristwatch, resisting the impulse to shy away instead of follow. He was only a step behind the pale man, half of his concentration set on keeping anything from their backs.
Schuldig's glance discovered the other redhead startling close, next to him and moving in the same direction. Aya had gotten a weird almost ghost-echo from the telepath's communications and was moving in the indicated direction, visually confirming Ken's disappearance from the area.
The possibility of interception on Crawford and Ken's course settled into a probability in Crawford's mind. The look of relief and a snap in tension at visible opponents was open on Hidaka's face. Before he could be warned or told otherwise, he sprang forward with a grin and claws leading the way.
The American stayed out of Siberian's way, not unpleased at the opportunity to observe, while scanning 'ahead' for immediate peril. /Bloodthirsty cat,/ he thought, not particularly disapproving. "Make it fast," he suggested coolly.
The comment was only vaguely acknowledged. The elements of surprise and speed only bought a few moments and a couple of swings. Those that did connect were made to count, raking through muscle and bone with deceptive ease. The few sent to meet them scattered, getting some distance quickly.
Dismissing Crawford for the moment, one of the operatives focused on he assassin, a hand held up to paralyzed one of the ones they were sent to capture, putting aside the attempt to kill the other one until afterwards. The man had been prepared for the look of rage and understanding on Siberian's face, but not the blank one that followed after.
The sudden crack of temperature was echoed by the distant sound of an explosive impact somewhere beyond the horizon of trees, right on schedule. Those with any sensitivity facing them were immediately noticeable for at least a pained expression and in more than one case a staggered halfstep backwards.
Those that did never saw heat mirage wavering the air. The wave of it rolled over those directly in front of the stilled assassin, igniting cloth at first contact and consuming deeper, faster as it passed over and through feeding a blue flame that gave off thousands of times more heat than light.
Prepared for the nearby explosion and its effects on their opposition, Crawford had removed the silver metal automatic from his shoulder holster and began picking off the writhing figures being rapidly immolated, starting with the leader, before the dying man could retaliate against the pyrotechnic in a dying revenge-hit. Seeing Ken stumble as he was released, he grabbed the boy's shoulder. "Come, *now*. Unless you want to fry on your own barbeque."
Cold hands returned the grip as Ken steadied himself. The crack and smolder of wet fuel giving away to the heat brought him around just as much as the command. The shoulder beneath Crawford's hand shook with silent laughter and a smile more familiar on Berserker was turned on the American. "Wouldn't happen," Ken said, but moved anyway, the reverse of grip intended to pull Crawford with him.
With a silent derisive laugh for the boy's confidence, Crawford yielded to the pull, then somehow managed to end up guiding the young man in the direction he wanted to go. Veering a little close to the scene of automotive carnage on the street beyond, he wove them through the crowd and emergency response vehicles and personnel with startling accuracy. Next thing Ken knew, he was sitting on an underground train across from the man, who looked like nothing so much as an afternoon business commuter.
TBC