Vindication

Chapter Fourth

Screams rend the air, a young woman’s voice crying out, “Help me!”

Two large forms, obscured by the shadows, attack her from behind, and they drag her away until the darkness swallows them completely. She screams again but is quickly silenced by the knife that swipes across her throat, opening her neck in a parody of a smile.

Blood. Everywhere.

It stains the innocent white of her dress, the pale skin of her chest and his hands. They tremble, going in and out of focus as he stares at the gruesome violence he has caused, the act that he did not prevent, the girl he could not protect.

“Ran…”

He looks down to see the young woman, his sister, gazing up at him with white, sightless eyes. He steps back, shaking his head in denial, but the truth lays before him in a pool of her own cooling blood. She reaches out to him, but he backs away even more in response.

“You killed me, Ran. You killed me. How could you?”

With a harsh gasp, Aya quickly opened his eyes, his world tumbling back to him in a blinding haze of red. The sunlight beat against his face, forcing him to close his eyes again from the sudden influx. He rolled over in bed and pulled the down comforter over his head, shielding him not only from the afterimage of the recent nightmare but also from the merciless sun. His sister had just recently started haunting his dreams. She came to him, blaming him for her death, saying if it hadn’t been for Aya’s choice in profession that she would have never died. Unfortunate enough, he couldn’t help but agree with his own subconscious. He blamed himself for a lot of things in his life; why not add one more to the list?

For two days he had done nothing but sleep now and then in between bad dreams and episodes of insomnia, practice kata with his sword and wait. For two days he had waited impatiently for word from Kritiker on the go-ahead to pursue his targets. No word had come in two days, and Aya was growing restless along with the countless nightmares that plagued him from being unoccupied. If there was no order from Kritiker that day, he was going to go through with the job without their permission. Screw the consequences, he told himself. What did he have to lose? Birman had said nothing about sitting idly, twiddling his thumbs until he went mad in a rented loft in downtown New York. The conversation they had at the funeral was still fresh in Aya’s mind, the details behind the man named Andreo del Toro stored away.

In charge of one of the most dominant drug cartels in South America and Mexico, Andreo del Toro was widely known for his reputation, but his tastes were more centered on underground prostitution rings. He had ordered kidnappings from different countries, had sold the victims to high bidders, and they were never seen alive. There was enough suspicion to put the crime lord behind bars for life, but the evidence had never added up. Every charge against him had always been acquitted. Why Kritker was taking charge of this case, Aya didn’t know. He was only told to do so much and then get out as quickly as possible.

The mission was not only to kill Andreo del Toro, but also his second in command, Hector Valdez. That way, whoever the competition was, would have been smart enough to back away from stepping up to Del Toro’s reputation and popularity. It wasn’t going to be as simple as the last assassinations in the past, Aya realized. He had to get deep inside to do the job the right way. Getting close to Del Toro was not an easy task, and he had made sure it was near to impossible. Aya was forced to make a little more effort than usual to finish his mission. Security on the young crime lord was tight, and more than ever, Aya wished that he had Omi with him to hack into a security system and the others to help him with the guards in the process. That way he would’ve been able to kill the two targets without trouble and leave just as quickly.

Suddenly, Aya’s thoughts wandered to Yohji and the last time he had seen the blond playboy. It was a vivid memory, curled up against Yohji’s warm and firm body with an overwhelming sense of protection from the slumbering man, although Aya couldn’t understand what had caused him to bend so easily to Yohji’s ministrations and gentleness. He was usually hard set on refusing anything that was related to the blond for the fact that he detested the man so much. What had changed his mind so quickly? Perhaps it was the loss of his sister and the emotions, that he tried so hard to bury deep inside, had bubbled to the surface at the wrong moment and in front of the wrong person. Most definitely in front of the wrong person, though Aya would have preferred in front of no one at all.

Come to think of it, Aya realized, he had used Yohji. When the rare chance of his inner turmoil had become too much for him alone to handle, he had latched on to the first living thing he had found, seeking comfort. Why did it have to be Yohji of all people? It would have been better to forget the whole thing if it had been Ken or Omi. Nothing would have happened between those two that would have made every moment thinking of Yohji awkward.

It was Karma coming back to bite him hard, Aya realized with disdain. However, he couldn’t understand what he had done to deserve such attention from Yohji. And wasn’t Yohji straight? Aya certainly was… or was he?

With a loud groan Aya pulled back the covers, immediately shuddering from the cold wave of air that washed over his body and sat up in bed. He licked his dry lips and plowed all ten fingers through his hair, resting his elbows on bent knees. He had to forget about Yohji, he reminded himself; think about the mission and nothing else. There was no room for distractions, and Yohji was definitely one of those, if not more.

It was still early morning, but according to Aya’s usual schedule back home, it was late. He had always gotten up before the sun rose, feeling refreshed and ready for a new day in the flower shop. In New York, his body felt like it hadn’t gotten a good night’s rest in months, and he was worried his fatigue and built-up frustration was going to get the best of him when the mission was ready to be completed. He couldn’t afford such flaws, and he needed something to do quickly.

A shower was definitely first on the list for the morning. He had worked up a cold sweat from the haunting images of the nightmare, and now, his body was sticky from the drying perspiration. While the hot water was running, steaming the bathroom in a fine mist almost instantly, Aya checked the clip in a Beretta that Kritiker had provided for him long ago before setting the handgun on the shelf by the shower. It was just a precaution, one that he wasn’t about to underestimate in a foreign city. Quickly, he shed his boxers and stepped under the scalding spray of water, immune to its almost unbearable temperatures and quickly began to scrub his body fervently. It was the only way he felt clean, the only way to rid himself of the blood that tainted his hands from the people he had killed.

If only he were able to rid himself of the loss of his sister. He would have readily given up anything to have her alive again; to change the course of the past year after Estet had been destroyed and to stay hidden from the one he loved. It would have been safer that way, even if it were a possibility that Aya-chan’s death had nothing to do with Weiss or Kritiker. But Aya couldn’t help wondering about the motives behind her death. Why her, of all people? She was just a student in University, a normal eighteen-year-old with the rest of her life ahead of her and goals to reach, dreams to pursue.

Aya suddenly choked back a sob and leaned his forehead against the tiles with his palms on either side of his head, the water streaming down the line of his back in hot rivulets. He had lost everything dear to him too suddenly. Not only had he been deprived of his family, but the right to live a normal life away from the world of an assassin. It was too great of a risk to take for the reason that Kritiker would have found him no matter where he wanted to hide. There was no freedom; he lived inside a gilded cage with bars he could not touch. The only key to unlock it was his death, and then, he would truly be free.

Even if he wasn’t afraid to die, since he was forced to face it everyday of his life, there was still much he wanted to do. However, he couldn’t think of a solid answer of what those goals were at that moment, not since Aya-chan had died. He felt blank, hollow inside except for the burning desire to seek vengeance against those that had taken his little sister away from him.

Anger erupted inside of Aya, and he quickly got out of the shower, intent on occupying his mind with something other than the constant reminder of his sister and his failure to keep her safe. His movements were jerky as he turned off the water, grabbing a towel to wrap around his waist and another to dry his hair. As he stepped out of the bathroom with the Beretta in one hand and towel-drying his hair with the other, Aya was surprised to find a young boy reclining in the love seat in his living room as though the kid had been waiting patiently for him. Aya restrained himself from showing too much of his surprise to find the intruder in the apartment and raised the gun instead, cautious of his new visitor.

“Who are you?”

The kid couldn’t have been more than fourteen, and he seemed harmless enough, but Aya wasn’t taking his chances. He was African American and tall, with a red baseball cap hiding most of his hair, but some dreadlocks with eccentric beads hung out of the flap. A backpack of the same color was strapped to his back. Slowly, cautious of the gun and of Aya, the boy took a packet from the backpack and set it on the coffee table.

“A message for Abyssinian? I’m supposed to deliver this to him.”

Aya ignored the package and held the gun steady on the boy. In a way, he considered himself pathetic for aiming a gun at a little boy when he was one of the best assassins that Kritiker had to offer. Why was he so on edge? Slowly, he lowered the gun as reasoning told him he was being too paranoid; the kid wasn’t going to hurt him.

“How did you get in here?”

“I have a key,” the boy said, holding it up as evidence.

Aya narrowed his eyes, more confused than angry at the answer. “Who gave it to you?”

“Some man who paid me fifty bucks to deliver the package.”

Realizing the kid knew about as much as Aya did, he let the matter go. With the gun concealed by his thigh, he approached the kid with his hand held out expectantly. He received a curious look from the kid.

“Give me the key and go,” he ordered, his voice stern and cold.

The key was placed in the palm of his hand, but the kid didn’t leave as he was told to. He just looked at Aya with an inquisitive look in his dark eyes.

“What?”

“You’re not from around here, are you?”

“No, now get out.”

“Where are you from?”

Aya glared at the boy, growing impatient with his lack of cooperation. “Didn’t you just hear me? I said get out.”

Holding his hands up in defense, the kid said, “Hey, man, I was just askin’.” He quickly made his way toward the door, Aya following him to lock it once he left. “Oh! I almost forgot…” The kid turned suddenly and thrust a cellular phone at Aya’s chest, completely oblivious of the dangerous tension in the swordsman’s body. The gun was clenched tightly in his hand, knuckles turning white.

“Why are you giving me this?”

“The guy just told me to give it to you,” the kid said with a shrug and an excited bounce to his voice. “All this stuff sounds pretty high-tech. Are you some kind of agent or something?”

Aya ignored the boy’s continuous curiosity and opted to push him out of the apartment instead. Once the kid was on the other side of the doorway, Aya slammed the door in his face and locked it, including the dead bolt. Leaning heavily against the wooden barrier, Aya stared at the packet on the coffee table while fingering the phone in his hand. At least he didn’t have to wait any longer to complete his mission, unless the agent that sent the information had requested for Aya to wait even longer. There was only one way to find out. He snatched up the packet and sat down on the plush red sectional sofa, carefully placing the Beretta on the cushion beside him along with the cellular phone.

Inside the packet was a simple white sheet of paper with a phone number typed across the top and a card that looked much like a credit card, but it only had the name Royale monogrammed in fine script on the front, nothing more. Aya wasn’t sure if he should have felt angry or confused. He suspected the number was the one he was supposed to call on the cellular phone. Curious enough, he tried the number, and on the second ring, a man answered.

“Abyssinian, I presume.” The man was American with a very crisp and clean voice. It was professional with a no-nonsense tone. Aya assumed that the man was great at first impressions with most people, but Aya hadn’t even met the man, and already, he didn’t like him.

Aya answered, “Who is this?”

“An agent of Kritiker. This phone line is secure. That was the reason for all the trouble to get it to you so it wouldn’t be traced back to me.”

“So, you grab a teenager off the street to do your dirty work?”

“Understandable. I apologize for the intrusion he may have caused,” the man replied, although there was no hint of sincerity in his voice. “But he’s actually one of our agents.”

Blinking hard, Aya actually believed him. Omi was about that age when he had first met him in the flower shop so it wasn’t unheard of. But what was with the innocent act? Aya was growing more frustrated with the American system, but he decided not to comment on the matter. He was too tired to complain about Kritiker’s little antics.

“Fine,” he said and closed his eyes, leaning his head against the back of the couch.

“I have instructions for you,” the man said, “that will complete half of your mission.”

Aya straightened, narrowing his eyes in question. “Half? What do you mean?”

“You will only be able to come in contact with one of your targets tonight. It’s the best that I can do.”

Satisfied at least with something to do instead of driving himself deeper into madness with waiting, Aya agreed. “What is my mission?”

“Your first target, Hector Valdez, will be overseeing a variety of clubs tonight that the Del Toro family owns. Where you should meet your target is an establishment called Club Royale. This will explain the card in the envelope. You will have to use the VIP membership to get in. The target will be there for only an hour and very heavily guarded. You only have so much time…”

Aya memorized the club’s name, while ignoring the agent’s doubt of his abilities and asked, “Should I call when the target has been taken care of?”

“There is no need.”

“Fine.” Aya hung up and tossed the phone on the coffee table. It clattered along the glass top and stopped just short of falling from the edge on the other side. He stared at it for a long moment, mulling over the conversation and the assignment. It wasn’t like Kritiker to give information to their employees in such a way, but Aya figured that the agency in America – he was completely unaware that there was a Kritiker branch anywhere but Japan - was a little different than back home.

Grateful nonetheless to have an assignment, Aya got up to prepare for the evening. It was early, but he wanted to research the location for possible escape routes once the job was finished. He dressed in a pair of jeans and a black shirt with a leather shoulder holster over it. The Beretta was secured in the holster and a black knee-length jacket was put on to conceal the weapon. He combed his fingers through his damp hair before gathering the keys to the apartment and venturing out onto the windy streets of New York.

----

Club Royale reminded Aya of Yohji. Not because it was just a club and Yohji was prone to have attraction to anything associated with the word, but because of the atmosphere and life it breathed. It exuded an air of confidence and a spark to defy everything that related to the outside world. It had charm, beauty, and a lot of character for a posh club where only VIP members were allowed. Club Royale had a tendency to lure anyone not even remotely interested in the life of clubbing to its doors for a night of pleasure and temporary contentment.

Aya blinked hard and straightened his slouched posture from where he was sitting on the roof of a building across the street from the club. Had he just thought of Yohji as beautiful? No, he couldn’t have. Shaking his head, he shoved the ridiculous thought to the back of his mind and concentrated on the entrance of the club. It was a little after eleven in the evening, and the first target was scheduled to appear any minute.

Earlier that day, Aya had scouted the building of the club, checking for possible routes to make his escape once the mission was completed. There was a back door to the kitchen area that led out into an alley. Beyond that was the next street over, but Aya had discovered a fire escape leading to the rooftops, deciding that was the best form of veiling his escape. Most pursuers never thought of the rooftops. However, that was the secondary plan. Aya wished to leave the club the same way he had entered, without suspicion of his intentions becoming known until he was far enough away. First, he decided, that he needed to get into the club, survey his surroundings, and then formulate a solid plan to reach his target. Without the knowledge, Aya knew it was going to be difficult, especially without his team to back him up. If there were obstacles in the way, the agent had said nothing about not disposing of those problems, and Aya was willing to go along with it. It wouldn’t have labeled him as a murderer for the fact that the bodyguards were just as evil as their employers for following their orders.

Hector Valdez’s limousine finally pulled up to the curb of the club. From Aya’s vantage point, the distance was too great to see the man clearly, but he knew what to look for from the files and photos that he had examined and memorized repeatedly. If that weren’t the case, it was easy enough to spot him out like a sore thumb in a crowd. Two bodyguards flanked Valdez’s sides and one followed closely behind. The man made himself too conspicuous with such a blatant show of protection; Aya could have easily shot the man from the rooftop with a sniper gun and the bodyguards would have been helpless to prevent it from happening. It would have been a good option, to shoot Valdez from a distance, but Aya was up for the challenge with getting close. He hadn’t been on the hunt for a year, and he was ready to stretch those dormant muscles, to put them back to use with vigor.

Satisfied with his observation, Aya turned and quickly made his way down a fire escape clearly out of view of the street where the entrance of the club faced. He was sure there were security, if not cameras, keeping the establishment in close regard. If he had come down the roof in plain sight, suspicions would have risen, placing him at a disadvantage. He certainly didn’t want that so early in the hunt.

The Beretta had been left at the apartment upon his return earlier that day, but a medium-sized knife was tucked away inside his boot. It was the only option he had; he dreaded leaving his katana at the apartment, also. He missed wielding the sword in the excited moment of a kill, although he regretted his actions soon after. The sense of guilt that overtook his thoughts after an assassination had turned into a vicious cycle. As much as he wanted to rid the world of evil people like Takatori and Del Toro, he was still taking a human life; he couldn’t help but feel remorse.

Aya steeled his thoughts of guilt and angst as he neared the doors of the club. There were four men clad in black suits, most likely more of Valdez’s henchmen, in plain view, but that didn’t rule out the possibility of more in the shadows. Placing confidence in his stride, Aya approached the door as though he owned the whole world, flashing his card as he went. Two of the bouncers stopped him, took his card, and scanned it. Through it all, he kept his face neutral, and a few seconds later, he was given his card back and allowed access inside. It was so easy, he realized. If only that were to be the case with Valdez, but he knew otherwise. One step at a time.

The music was the first thing that greeted Aya as he entered. It was a mix between electronic and ambience with a smooth, sensual beat that almost instantly made him want to dance to the sound, his thoughts once again tracing back to Yohji. He imagined the blond already moving to the rhythm, swaying his leather-clad hips with ease. There had been a few times when Aya had remembered accompanying Yohji to clubs, always on missions, but those few times were enough to reveal Yohji’s true side outside of the flower shop and the mission room. He was free in the truest sense of the word, and all that time Aya had thought that Yohji was free when he killed or perhaps when he had drunken himself into a stupor late at night. He had never been so wrong in his life, and he realized that he really didn’t know Yohji as well as he’d thought.

Aya bit the inside of his cheek, forcing himself to stop thinking about Yohji and focus on finding Valdez. He didn’t have much time to make his approach with enough conviction if he didn’t concentrate on the mission he was granted. He sauntered forward, keeping his eyes level even as he was mindful of the people around him without making it too obvious he was not a regular.

The bar was ahead of him on a raised dais in the center of the room, making a perfect circle for every vantage point to be seen by the bartender from that location. The entire platform was constructed of glass and illuminated with blue lights. It certainly was the vocal point in the main room. There was, as Aya observed carefully, taking great care to notice his surroundings, one floor above him with a balcony overlooking the main floor where he was standing. Above that terrace was a mirrored ceiling, or better described as a one-way glass floor. Not many would have noticed the small detail, but Aya knew what to look for in all his years as an assassin; it was most likely where the target was. The construction of the mirrored floor was thick with square blocks making out a diagonal design much like diamonds. Aya narrowed his eyes and briefly looked up to get a better look of the floor one last time. He didn’t want to stare, but perhaps he wanted to make enough of an impression to whoever it was up there that he knew they were hiding. Honestly, he wasn’t sure that was the best option to get close to Valdez, but he was willing to play along and find out where it would have led him.

After that last glance, Aya ordered a glass of wine from the bar and proceeded to wander the main floor, weaving his way through the dense crowd of dancers. He hoped his plan had worked, but he was quick to formulate another if Valdez’s men didn’t appear in the next five minutes. It was rumored that Valdez steered toward not only women but also men and enjoyed both parties the same. There was just enough of Yohji’s seductive personality that Aya had remembered to use against Valdez, that charm that was able to crack even the strongest of men into blubbering idiots. He always wondered how Yohji accomplished such a thing when he was straight. Or was he truly?

The glass of wine was finished quickly, and Aya was ready for another. He never was one to drink a lot, but the constant memories of Yohji and the insane idea that he was gay were driving him crazy. He wanted to forget about his unexpected feelings for Yohji; he had to. There was no other choice. Nothing good would have come of it, they would have only used each other until there was nothing left to use. It wasn’t possible to love another man in the same way a man loves a woman; Aya’s pristine upbringing had taught him so. But once he had become Abyssinian, all that he had grown up to know while his parents had been alive was in vain when he had first joined Crashers before Weiss. When he had raised his sword to kill, there was no turning back after that.

Aya clenched his jaw along with his hand around the wine glass, his thoughts once again tumbling into distractions that he couldn’t afford to comprehend. He was allowing such obstacles to get the better of him, and he hadn’t even noticed two of Valdez’s men approaching him until they were forced to make their presence known. Steeling his surprise, Aya followed them without a question after one had requested that he’d come with them. Despite his failure to keep his mind focused on the mission, Aya was satisfied with the turn out of the evening so far; he had his chance to get close to Valdez.

He was escorted into an elevator that actually went down instead of up. While inside the confined space, Aya was forced to face the wall with his hands extended in front of him, palms flat against the smooth surface as he was searched none-too-gently for weapons and bugs. The man on his left lingered too long as his hands fingered through Aya’s hair, tugging it a little hard in the process. Aya wanted to punch the man, but he was kept in the same position longer as the other henchman’s hands grazed over his ribs underneath the black shirt he wore. The actions caused Aya to flinch and shiver from their touch, but he contained his discomfort and endured their distasteful work. He was lucky, with the thorough search that they didn’t find the knife hidden in his boot.

The elevator doors opened just as Aya was spun around and guided through a dimly lit hallway with a firm hold on his elbow by the henchman that had groped his upper body. Ahead, the other man led the way down the cemented path. Aya was a little perplexed as he had suspected that meeting Valdez would have been in a VIP room or something more elaborate than the basement. He was proven wrong when he was brought into a room decorated solely for the purpose of private entertainment and an office combined where no one would have figured out its location in order to protect Valdez and Del Toro from people just like Aya.

Valdez was seated on an oversized leather sofa at the far end of the loft-sized room, with two scantily clad women, who appeared underage, in his arms. The man had a smug grin on his mustached face as Aya was brought forward, his elbow still in a tight grip. For a moment, he turned his face to glare at the man restraining him, but it was futile as the man completely ignored him. Valdez, however, noticed, and his grin grew, but he made no order for Aya to be released.

“You’re new,” Valdez said suddenly, his voice laced with a fine Hispanic accent underneath the thicker New York lilt, but other than that, it was as smooth as polished rock and very sophisticated despite his occupation and interests.

“What gave you that impression?” Aya answered, focusing his glare on Valdez instead.

“I make a habit of knowing who comes into this club,” Valdez said casually, leaning back comfortably against the cushions with the two girls. He gave Aya a once over, and his eyes revealed that he was very pleased with what he saw. There was an unbelievable urge to smack that smug look off the older man’s face.

“If you’re the one they sent then show me what you’ve got.”

The rumors must have been true, Aya realized; Valdez’s tastes did venture toward the same sex. And Kritiker had set this meeting up from the beginning, planning to get Aya in as a prostitute no doubt. He suppressed a shudder at the thought and nodded. There was only so much he would have allowed himself to do on missions, and this type of work was more of Yohji’s preference. But there was no Yohji, no Omi, and no Ken. Aya was alone, and he hated it.

“Fine,” he replied after a moments pause, eyeing the guard latched onto his elbow. “Do you mind telling your dog to let go?”

With a nonchalant wave of his hand, Valdez’s man released Aya and backed away to join his comrade by the door. The Hispanic man smirked, his face aglow with amusement. He motioned for Aya to step closer, and he seemed to study the swordsman more intensely.

“How interesting,” he said thoughtfully. “You’re Japanese.”

Aya blinked, unfazed by his revelation. “Is that a problem?”

Valdez didn’t answer. He quietly told the girls to leave, and he stood up just as the door closed behind the prostitutes. The same height as Yohji, Valdez didn’t intimidate Aya when he tried to make his height and power encompassing.

“Come, let’s get a drink.” He turned his back to Aya, his confidence quite alluring and frustrating at the same time. Aya could have tried to attack the man from behind, but there were no open opportunities. The way the criminal moved indicated he was very aware of Aya’s presence and his abilities to kill. Once Aya would have moved, Valdez would have dealt his own attack without a seconds notice.

Aya cursed his damn luck and followed Valdez to the small bar without a word. He was given a highball glass filled with a dark liquid Aya didn’t recognize, along with a knowing smile from Valdez that would have put Yohji’s to shame. Something was wrong; Aya could feel it tingling the fine hairs along his spine and arms. Valdez knew something that was likely to put Aya in a disconcerting position. He decided to play along anyway, never one to give up on a mission no matter the amount of danger that permeated the stale air.

“About my services,” he started after taking a tentative sip of his drink. It was a foul, bitter taste, and Aya was forced not to cringe for the sake of his pride. He swallowed hard and continued. “When do you want to get started?”

Valdez casually leaned against the rail of the bar, swirling his drink while he stared at Aya under the dark fall of his lashes. There was no denying the fact that Aya felt like a helpless insect pinned against a wall, ready to be dissected. The man before him knew he had the cards in his favor, and Aya was only able to go along with it without blowing his cover – if it hadn’t been already.

“What do your services provide, kitten?”

At the sound of the sardonic, lilting tone behind him, Aya whirled around to find none other than Schuldig standing before him. Shock riddled throughout Aya’s body, and he couldn’t keep the surprise from his face to see the German alive. He had thought that Schwarz had died in the collapse of the Estet temple, and he honestly didn’t know how to react to this unexpected discovery. If Schuldig was alive then most likely the other three members of Schwarz were as well.

“I’m glad to see you, too, kitten,” Schuldig purred as he sauntered forward, closing the distance between him and Aya quickly. “Don’t worry. The others aren’t here to spoil our fun.”

“What are you doing here?” Aya asked indignantly once he was able to find his voice.

“He works for Del Toro,” Valdez said as he circled around Aya, pointing a gun at his chest, and the same priggish grin plastered on his handsome face.

Aya tightened the muscles in his body as he glared at the gun, but he couldn’t help but focus more of his anger on the German. The urge to impale the telepath on his sword was an overwhelming burning sensation, starting behind his eyes and moving forward until he felt his fingers twitch with unconcealed rage. From the look on Schuldig’s face, he knew exactly what Aya’s thoughts were conspiring against, and he gave a wolfish grin, flashing white at Aya.

“I always loved your spirit, Abyssinian. Full of fire and rage,” Schuldig taunted. His emerald eyes were aglow with gleeful amusement. “Tell me. How is your dear sister?”

It took every ounce of self-control that Aya could muster not to lunge for Schuldig and kill him with his bare hands. The bastard knew!

“You killed her,” Aya snarled, clenching his fists at his side. “Didn’t you?”

Raising his hands in mock surrender, Schuldig laughed. “No.”

“Then who did it? You know, you sick fuck, don’t you?”

A nonchalant shrug was his answer. “Perhaps.”

The thin wire holding Aya at bay broke with an audible snap in his mind, and he surged forward, his mind blank from all rational thought as he moved to attack Schuldig with the intent to kill. With Schuldig’s ability to read Aya’s mind, he was able to easily sidestep from the swordsman path of destruction, placing Aya at a great disadvantage with both criminals at his back. In that instant, the butt of Valdez’s High Power Browning came crashing down on the back of Aya’s neck, and he collapsed to his knees before he was able to comprehend the attack. He felt dazed, and the base of his skull produced a multitude of aches once his mind was able to focus on the pain and the situation he was in.

Before he was able to gather his wits, Schuldig was down at his level, his hand holding onto Aya’s right wrist painfully tight, preventing the swordsman from going for the knife in his boot.

“You bastard,” Aya seethed, desperately trying to pull his hand from the German’s hold only to have the arm wrenched behind his back in an elbow lock. The strain against the muscles and bone was intense, and Aya stilled his body along with his breath.

“Coming from you, I take that as a compliment,” Schuldig whispered in his ear, pulling up on his arm to apply more pressure.

Aya winced and closed his eyes tight. Through clenched teeth he said, “What do you want from me?”

Valdez was the one that answered, and Aya was surprised to see the man kneeling in front of him, the gun caressing the underside of Aya’s chin. “You will provide those services that your alias had mentioned. Del Toro has taken a considerable liking to young Japanese men, and you are quite the catch.”

Struggling despite the painful hold on his arm, Aya refused to accept that fate. “I will kill you,” he promised, his eyes aglow with unleashed fury.

“I’m certain you will at least try,” Valdez said with confidence, “But you’ll soon find out that it won’t be easy.”

Schuldig’s menacing laughter breeched Aya’s ears, and he found himself struggling more. There was a chance to grab the knife with his left hand, but with Valdez in front and Schuldig behind him, they would have seen the movement before he was even able to clear the blade from its hidden sheath. It was worth a try, however. He would die rather than give up and allow these criminals to use him. There was no failure in Weiss; it was success or death. Simple as that, and Aya had made a promise to honor that a long time ago.

“It would be stupid to go for the knife, my kitten,” Schuldig warned in Aya’s ear.

Distracting his mind with the intent to go for the knife, Aya used that advantage to snap his head back into Schuldig’s unprotected face and grab for the gun in Valdez’s hand at the same time. Stunned by the impact of bone hitting cartilage, Schuldig let him go, and Aya lunged, knocking Valdez out of his way as he rolled across the floor. With the Browning now in his possession, Aya didn’t hesitate and shot Valdez in the chest. The older man was dead before his body hit the floor, cooling blood pooling around his body within seconds. It was easier than Valdez had thought, smug bastard.

Everything was a blur from that point as the two guards at the door attacked Aya from behind. Tackled onto his stomach, the gun lost in the midst of the struggle and his arms wrenched painfully behind his back, there was no chance of struggling out of their viselike grips. Schuldig’s shadow loomed threateningly overhead, but with his face smothered in the carpet, Aya couldn’t look up even if he had wanted to. He had enough of looking into those soulless, green eyes for one night.

“Nice job, Aya,” Schuldig said while clapping his hands together. “But I must say my boss will not be very happy with this sudden turn of events.”

“I could care less about what your boss thinks,” Aya snapped, his words muffled in the carpet. “I hope he blows your fucking head off.”

Suddenly, the weight on his body was released, and Aya was allowed to get up to his knees, though Schuldig was quick and tangled a large chunk of the swordsman’s hair in his hand. He yanked Aya’s head back and glared into his dazed eyes.

“You do care,” the telepath said. “You forget I can hear your thoughts, and I can sense your fear washing over you like a tidal wave. There’s no stopping it.”

Aya denied it even though he felt it burning inside of him. “Fuck you.”

“Tempting,” Schuldig said mockingly before he ran his hot tongue up Aya’s left cheek, causing the swordsman to shiver in revulsion. “Maybe some other time, kitten.”

There was a sharp prick at the back of Aya’s neck along with a painful rush of liquid forced into his system, and he instantly panicked without the knowledge of what the drug was. He struggled anew even as his body unwillingly gave in to the sedative swirling through his veins. He felt himself growing heavy, his limbs like lead; a sudden tightness in his throat until every nerve in his body became numb, and unconsciousness finally told hold of him, shrouding his senses into fearful darkness.


TBC...