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No Mercy	By : Blythe Category: Weiß Kreuz > General Views: 2071 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Weiß Kreuz, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Title: No
Mercy

Author: Blythe

Archived:
AdultFanFiction.net, MediaMiner.org, YxA ML, for now.

Disclaimer: If I owned it, I wouldn’t be sharing. That’s just the kind of person I am! This is a work of fanfiction and is not for
profit.

Rating:
NC-17, for future chapters and language

Pairing: Aya/Yohji

A/N: I apologize about the delay in getting this
out! I’m taking a beating from RL right
now, but I will try to update a little faster.
Thanks to those of you who’ve stuck with me through this and to everyone
who had reviewed. Special thanks to
Kyoko Tsukiyono who let me know that I’m not
forgotten and to Marasmine for betaing.

Chapter 3: Seeking

Another stakeout.

More information gathering.

More memories of his days as a PI.

When he’d slip too far into the past, he’d only come back
when the silence stretched into discomfort; when he’d made some comment and was
waiting for her to respond to it, then he’d turn to find that she wasn’t
there.

Somehow, this wasn’t as cool as he remembered. The rose-colored lens of memory had blunted
the sharp edges of his past.

He lit another cigarette, reminded himself that he couldn’t
afford to lose his focus, that this was important. Others were depending upon the intel he was
gathering. Misinformation could be a
death sentence for another agent. Or
team.

Yohji was no fool.

He could process the information fast enough to know which
Kritiker personnel would be utilizing it for a mission. Sometimes, when Manx gave him enough time
before debriefing, he’d even synthesize the data into a viable mission plan;
mapping out the best infiltration points and egress routes. By the time the packets were delivered, most
of Omi’s job was done for him. Yohji
hoped he didn’t mind too much.

He did his work well.
He knew where the gaps were, but it was unavoidable for a three man cell
that should have been four. He knew that
he had developed the best possible parameters.
He knew they’d follow them.

At least, that’s what he was always counting on. Manx would be livid if she ever found out,
but…too bad. He’d just have to make sure
that she didn’t. Omi was still his
little brother and Ken, still a good friend.
And Aya was…well Aya was something else altogether and despite his mixed
feelings about the man, he wasn’t ready to see him harmed.

Yeah, he knew where the gaps were. And he knew how to fill them.

****************************************************************

He had that feeling again.
The one that said “turn around, he’s behind you!” But, he wasn’t going to give in. Not this time.

He always turned and always found nothing but darkness. Not again.
He couldn’t take it anymore, the moment of hope that flared in his heart
only to be snuffed out by the tangible darkness.

It didn’t matter that he could hear the whisper of a long
leather trench coat. It didn’t matter
that he could feel the warmth he knew so well.
It didn’t matter that he could see the shadow cast in front of him of
someone moving in the backlight. It
didn’t matter…

Aya closed his eyes.
He inhaled deeply through his nose, breathing in the comforting scent of
leather, sweat, and his scent. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t there. He could pretend and that would make it
easier. Having Yohji at his back had
always made it easier. Not that he’d
ever told the man. He told himself that
should he ever have the chance again, he’d do it right, but he wasn’t sure that
even that was a promise he could keep.
Self expression really wasn’t one of his strengths.

Another deep breath and he pushed it out of his mind. It didn’t matter. There was a target to be eliminated; a damn
near perfect mission plan to be executed.

That, in itself, was suspect. Never before had Kritiker planned their
missions for them. They’d be given as
much information as the organization had managed to glean and left to their own
devices. Now, over the course of several
months, they’d had no less than twelve extremely detailed mission plans hand
delivered. Each plan accompanied by
warnings of potential hazards and at least two contingencies based on anything
from increased resistance to how the weather may affect the mission. Nothing worse than an assassin in squeaky
shoes, right?

When questioned about it, Manx was evasive, saying only that
they were not “required” to use the provided plan, but they should at least
consider it as someone had gone to quite a bit of trouble to make it. That was typical Manx. She never told them anything she didn’t
believe they needed to know.

Still, this was just another in a recent string of mysteries
and, like the others, it would have to wait.

“Abyssinian, you’re clear. Go.”

Aya moved like a wraith from the shadows. Both guards were dead before either had even
registered his presence. He kept moving
in, toward the target. The man was
frozen in fear, mouth agape, eyes wide.
As Aya stalked toward him, the expression changed, subtly at first, then,
more dramatically as a satisfied smirk settled on his features.

Aya knew that look.
It was the “I Know Something You Don’t Know” look and it was never good
news.

He instinctively dropped to a crouch and the first shot
whizzed over his head, stirring a few hairs in its wake. He rolled to the side, seeking cover before
the next shot. Glancing over his
shoulder, he saw two more guards. Damn
it! Where in the hell had they come
from? This wasn’t in the plan and it
sure as hell wasn’t in the contingencies.

He sought refuge behind a filing cabinet, mind reeling for a
way out, but knew he didn’t have much time to plan. The target had shaken off his stupor and had gotten
to his gun. Each bodyguard also had a
gun.

Three guns vs. one sword.

Who ever thought that these were good odds? He would have been fine if he weren’t caught
between them. But, at this point, no
matter which way he moved, someone was going to get a clean shot.

He made his decision.
He was going to go for the target.
If nothing else, he’d take the target out before he fell. He took one more breath, said a silent
goodbye to his team and absent lover, and sprang at the smirking bastard behind
the desk.

That was when he heard it.

An unmistakable sound, just before the two gun reports, that
could only be one thing.

Wire.

He couldn’t turn. Had
to focus.

He landed in front of the target and immediately brought a
booted foot to the man’s hand. The gun, still
warm from the one wild shot he’d managed to get off, went left while Aya’s
katana came down from the right, splitting the man from shoulder to hip.

He spun back toward the door. On the floor were two dead guards, a length
of fine wire still tightly wrapped around their necks.

There was a small amount of blood spatter on the floor,
clearly from the guards, the pattern matching
the spray that could occur when the throat was severed just so.

But there was more, a small pool slightly behind one of the
bodies and another smattering on the wall, not quite head high. Looking closer, Aya could see the bullet
imbedded in the wall. The shot had been
fired at close range and had gone clean through.

Clean through…

“Yohji?” It was
nothing more than a whisper.

“Abyssinian, repeat.”

He began to run down the hall, following the few spots of
blood here and there. He found a
slightly larger puddle right before the stairs where the man had obviously
stopped, probably trying to gain his breath.
There was a partial boot print in the blood and tracks leading into the
stairwell, heading down.

Yohji.

Yohji was here.

Yohji was hit.

Yohji didn’t know the timeline and was going to get his ass
blown up along with the building.

“Yohji!” And suddenly
he could hear the steady thud of heavy boots running, unsteadily clambering
down the stairs. Well, at least he was
moving in the right direction!

Aya lit out after him, flying down the stairs as quickly as
possible and praying that he didn’t lose his footing and land on his sword.

“Yohji! Wait, damn you!”

“Abyssinian, get the hell out of there!” Ken was getting frantic. He’d known it was only a matter of time
before Aya snapped. Honestly, he’d been
waiting for it since long before Aya-chan woke up. But now, to think that the man was chasing
ghosts through the halls of a building rigged to blow, he was finally afraid
for him.

The charges were staggered.
If he could get him out before the blasts reached this end of the
building, they’d have a chance. Ken
stepped forward and felt Omi’s hand pull him into the car as the opposite end
of the building burst into flame.

He held his breath while Omi tried to contact Aya by radio
again to no avail.

Suddenly, a car he hadn’t noticed peeled out of the shadows
and took off down the road. Aya shot
from the building in time to see the car’s taillights disappear and cursed
creatively. He smoothly slipped into the
driver’s seat and directed their car toward home as the first sirens were heard
in the distance.

Omi and Ken gaped. It
couldn’t be. It just couldn’t.

Could it?

Omi cautiously opened his mouth to ask, but Aya pre-empted
him.

“Yes. That really was Yohji.”
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No Mercy