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The Best Defense	By : jeisvenka Category: Weiß Kreuz > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 1576 -:- 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
- 3
- 4
Into the Fire

Paused.
That was it. Somebody had some sort of universal remote control for
the world, and had pressed the "pause" button.

The
blond's jaw, frozen open, his hand glued to the handle of the open
door.

The
redhead, frozen where he leaned against the glass.

The
brunette, flowerpot in his arms, frozen mid-sentence.

Manx,
her hand disappearing underneath where his borrowed pair of faded
black jeans were cut off on the left side (the side with the cast).

Frozen.

And
they were all staring at him.

It
would've made him laugh, if a single fat itch-tear hadn't already
slipped its way down alongside the bridge of his nose. And since his
arms were shackled to the seat in front of him, he couldn't wipe it.

Farfarello
turned back to Manx, and she looked back at him, her pupils stretched
huge, not yet adjusted to the light filtering through the door. For
some reason, he got the distinct feeling that he was staring at a
kitten. Not an the symbolic sense, as he and his teammates usually
referred to Kritiker agents, but a real kitten. With huge eyes. And
soft, flowing, pet-able red hair. And claws.

He
felt more than saw it. Her hand. Reaching up. Drifting across his
face, brushing away the tear with the pad of her thumb.

And
then the world was moving too fast, and he felt as dizzy as when he'd
lacked blood those few nights before, even though he was fairly sure
that the doctors had shoved as much blood back into his veins as was
medically possible.

The
brunette outside the car was saying his name. Farfarello. Farfarello.
He said it over and over again, as if saying it multiple times would
somehow yield a different result.

The
two suits in the front seat moved to open Manx's door, since the
doors only opened from the outside, and she was suddenly gone, and he
was staring at a blank spot in the seat, feeling dizzy. Dizzy dizzy,
as though he would faint.

But,
Farfarello decided, he'd had enough of fainting to last him for
years. The whole 'waking up in some unrecognizable place' idea just
didn't hold the same lovely flare it did before this messy incident.

So,
by sheer force of will, he kept himself in the present, and craned
his neck to look back out the door. The blond… Balinese…? was
still there, although he had straightened up considerably, as if
trying to put as much distance between himself and the psychopath as
humanly possible without actually moving his feet or detaching his
hand from the handle of the door.

The
brunette was still mouthing his name repeatedly, his brow furrowed, a
look of disbelief plastered across his entire hunched-over body. The
flowerpot's soil was slowly slipping over the rim, pooling on the
concrete.

The
redhead was standing only inches from where he was before, but his
entire body was stiff, as if expecting an attack from any and every
direction. The man's eyes, which had been almost wide a moment ago,
were now narrowed to the point that it was amazing he could even see.

One
of the suits tried to brush past Balinese, a beautiful silver key
dangling from his hand, but at the small contact, the blond suddenly
seemed to leap into overdrive.

"What
the hell, Manx! What the hell! What is this… thing…
doing here?! At the Koneko, in… in… a company car? Here?"

"Hush,
Yohji. You're making a scene," drifted the woman's steely voice,
and although Farf couldn't see her face, he was sure her visage
matched her tone, since the blond immediately fell silent. "And
that thing
has a name, at least for the time being."

"Farfarello,"
Ken mumbled, barely audible. Or apparently only audible to the
Irishman, because the blond and Manx both rounded on him
simultaneously, casting twin glares, and the brunette finally seemed
to snap back into the present.

"HOLY
SHIT!" he burst, his eyes growing, if possible, even wider.

"Everyone,
shut up and come inside. Yohji, get out of the man's way. Ken, put
down that damned flowerpot. Aya, calm down. I promise, everything's
going to be fine. Just give me a chance to explain."

Farfarello
grinned widely at the way they jumped and swerved at her command,
like puppets on so many glistening strings. Even the redhead seemed
to subconsciously follow her command, his shoulders loosening up the
tiniest bit.

Balinese
shifted elegantly to the side, glaring down at his restrained enemy.

Ken
finally put the poor flowerpot down and proceeded to politely chase
everyone, which consisted of a multitude of wide-eyed, staring young
girls and a few boys, away from the shop.

Farfarello
grinned widely, showing off a pair of sharp canines, having happily
realized that, no, he was not going to faint this time, and yes,
Weiss was freakishly
entertaining
when they were caught off-guard. The Kritiker grunt, who was bent
halfway to unlock the chains from the car, made a sort of
half-suppressed squawking noise at the Irishman's expression, and
then quickly finished his job and backed away, breathing irregularly.
His partner glared at him, and then they both reached forward to pull
the Berserker from the car.

And
only then, when the white-haired psychopath was hobbling in front of
them, his weight sagging against the two grunts, a lone pair of
shackles still strung across his wrists, did the three members of
Weiss seem to notice his appearance. Their eyes ghosted from his
blood-stained hair, down his bruised face, across his lacerated and
welt-covered limbs, to rest on his pearly white cast, and then travel
back up again to repeat the process.

There
was a long silence, broken only by the clink of chains as the two men
practically dragged Farfarello into the shop. Well, he sure as hell
wasn't going to help them out. What was the point?

And
then, it was enough. He was tired. Tired of being gawked at. Tired of
being asked strange questions. Tired of being dragged. Tired of
being… tired.

"Looks
like somebody got what was coming to him…" the brunette
muttered softly as the three men passed only feet away, confident of
the harmlessness of his deadly enemy.

Confident.
Stupid. He shouldn't have been.

Before
anyone could even gasp, Farfarello was holding a handful of the
brunette's hair in one hand, his other set of fingers curled tightly
against the man's windpipe, and they were on the floor.

"I'm
not deaf, darling," Farfarello sneered, his voice raspy, but it
still carried volumes. He'd never liked this one very much. Although
he had to admit, if the man's face were always that lovely shade of
blue...

But
apparently the others didn't share his views, and he was soon being
hauled backwards by a pair of strong arms. The two Kritiker grunts
were on the other side of the store, rushing back and forth,
pretending to be helping. Manx was absolutely livid, her hair
floating around her like a bloody halo. Abyssinian was bent next to
the brunette, obviously unsure of what to do with the coughing,
sputtering boy.

So
that left the blond. Yes, there... on his wrist. The watch that held
his killing wire. It suddenly occurred to him how ironic that was.
Metallic string. The perfect weapon for a deadly kitten.

It
was hilarious. So hilarious, in fact, that Farfarello soon found
himself chuckling aloud. Nobody else seemed to share his fascination
with this, either.

"Inside.
Now," Manx all but snarled, helping the brunette to his feet.
Abyssinian closed the thick metal door to the shop as Balinese
dragged Farfarello off into the semi-darkness of the shop's basement.
The two Kritiker agents, who were still huddled against the back wall
of the shop, were obviously not invited down there.

"Useless
bastards... Paid too much for their own good... Soft and fat...
Ridiculous that we should have to deal with this... The fuck is going
on..." the blond muttered under his breath in turns between
resting and dragging Farfarello, who had made himself completely
limp.

"Uhn,
ridiculous," Farfarello mumbled in agreement, trying in vain to
make himself heavier.

"Shut
the fuck up," the blond snarled vehemently. Farfarello grinned,
enjoying the easy reactions he could pull from this man. Balinese.
No, that wasn't it. What was his name? ...Yohji.

"Of
course, Yohji-kun," he said softly, helping ever so slightly
with the trek down that horrible spiral staircase.

"I
said, shut u-"

Suddenly,
a bright light flickered across the room, and Farfarello was aware
that a man's dark silhouette was talking out at him from…

….a
video screen?

Well,
that was just downright anti-climactic.
- 3
- 4
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The Best Defense