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Strange Times	By : fireun Category: Weiß Kreuz > General Views: 3711 -:- 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
- 1-Strange Times
- 2-2
- 3-3
- 4-4
- 5-5
- 6-6
- 7-7
- 8-8
- 9-9
- 10-10
- 11-11
- 12-12
- 13-13
- 14-14
- 15-15
- 16-16
- 17-17
- 18-18
- 19-19
- 20-20
- 21-21
- 22-22
- 23-23
- 24-24
- 25-25
- 26-26
- 27-27
- 28-28
- 29-29
- 30-30
- 31-31
- 32-32
- 33-33
- 34-34
- 35-35
- 36-36
- 37-37
- 38-38
- 39-39
- 40-40
- 41-41
- 42-42
- 43-43
- 44-44
- 45-45
- 46-46
- 47-47
- 48-48
- 49-49
- 50-50
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Subtle really wasn’t Schuldich’s prime mode of operation. The members of Weiss were shaken from their evenings with a telepathic demand that rather resembled being shaken about by a large, angry dog. Aya was lucky enough that Schuldich decided to share the summons. Frowning around a brand new headache, Aya add a perversely unnecessary jab of increased pressure as he held the soiled shirt to Schuldich’s side. Schuldich made it very hard to take things like an adult. Schuldich stopped his grin just short of sticking out his tongue before he lost his momentary amusement at having bothered Aya and his team in favor of realizing he hurt.

“They couldn’t have bred us to be bulletproof, could they? No. brain powers are more useful, apparently. Here, let me stop this fucking bullet with my brain.” Schuldich sneered around a grimace.

“Prodigy could…”

“Fuck you.”

“And honestly, Oracle would know it was coming and you could convince…”

“Let me bleed out in peace.”

“Shut up. You’ll hurt less if you stop talking.”

“Fuck you.” Schuldich shifted a bit, trying to get distance between himself and his tormentor, and failing as Aya refused to relinquish his hold on Schuldich’s side.

“Come on. Stand up. We need to get away from the bodies.”

Schuldich glared balefully at the corpses. “Of course. Seeing as we are the bad guys in this one.”

“You should be used to it. Up.”

“They attacked first.”

“Not until you killed their guy.” Hauling a hurting and bristling Schuldich up from the ground was becoming some sort of an unfortunate habit…

“Tone down the sappy concern. It’s making me nauseous.”

“You make it damn hard to care.”

“I try. At least I give good head.”

Conversation fumbled to a halt as Schuldich turned his attention towards dealing with stumbling forward with a bullet hole in his side and Aya tried to squash every inclination to feel guilty about wanting to beat Schuldich within an inch of his life.

______________________________

‘Here kitty, kitty, kitty…’

“I don’t know how he gets off being insulting while asking for help.” Ken tried to think around the insidious whispering in the back of his head.

Yohji grimaced. “Somehow I don’t think he’s asking.”

‘Here kitty, kitty, kitty…’
__________________________________

Schuldich tensed, going as still as a pointer on a scent, then relaxed with a tired smirk. “The kids are here.”

“Screw you.” Yohji grumbled, approaching with Ken in a very visible manner. One didn’t sneak up on wounded assassins. It had the unfortunate habit of causing ones life to end in a spectacularly messy fashion.

‘You wish.’

“I have bandages and a whole lot of antiseptic. Don’t irritate me into shoving both down your throat.”

“Some backup you are.” Schuldich sneered.

“Schuldich, shut up. Yohji, ignore him. Ken, take over for me here.” Aya passed Schuldich’s weight over to Ken, helped resettle the makeshift bandage, and stretched his shoulders gratefully. “Thank you.”

“For a thin bastard, you weigh a lot.” Ken tried for humor.

“I’m leaning.”

“Thanks.” And gave it up as a hopeless attempt. “So what the hell happened?”

Schuldich started to shake, and Ken had a tense second before he realized the telepath was laughing quietly and not at all pleasantly. “You wouldn’t believe what I dug out from between memories of bad porn and horribly unhygienic inclinations.” Schuldich smiled up at Aya, lips pulled tautly over his teeth in an expression that did nothing to alleviate the distressingly smug violence that gleamed in his eyes along with reflected streetlights. ‘Kritiker appears to have a pest problem.’

Part attempt to keep idle ears from picking up on things they shouldn’t, and part pure B-movie drama, Schuldich allowed his telepathic whisper to fade completely before releasing the minds of the assassins walking with him.

“Omi wouldn’t…” Yohji started.

“Not Omi. His little club is so rotten Crawford would have been pissing himself in delight. You guys have your work cut out for you. From what the recently deceased incompetent rent –an-assassin knew, there are more factions in Kritiker than cliques in grade school. And some of them have money enough to convince our boys it was a good idea to tangle with Abyssinian and Mastermind.”

Schuldich let the information sink in, enjoyed the shocked and thoughtful babbling of the minds around him. “The kicker? They don’t care if your Omi knows. Powerless figurehead and all. How sad.”

“That’s a lot for one throw away hired killer to know.” Aya frowned.

Schuldich tilted his head. “I don’t believe the poor idiot was intended as throw away. I believe we were tragically, for them, underestimated. I’m recovering and unstable, remember? The Mastermind doesn’t know what to do without its team, apparently. I am lost without the guidance of Schwartz’s noble scheme. Without that pleasant bit of nefarious sanity, I’m nothing more than a head case with homicidal tendencies. Or that’s what someone in Kritiker thinks. That’s what someone in Kritiker shared to counter the qualms of our dead friends back there. That’s a whole lot of Schwartz information sitting in a Kritiker’s head. Incomplete and really incorrect seeing as I think I function quite well at present, withhold scathing commentary for the moment if you would, Aya. They have the money, and just enough information to make it seem plausible.”

“Plausible?” Ken shifted slightly in an attempt to peer at Schuldich.

“Someone wants a nice, messy coup. Killing off Abyssinian is sure to ruffle some feathers; the current Persia comes to mind rather instantly.” Schuldich smiled sweetly.

“Someone who did at least some of their homework.” Yohji tapped a finger over his lips thoughtfully.

“More or less. I wish they had been polite enough to get the name of their employer. Even a code name can be tracked. This whole walking target thing is going to get tiresome. And I don’t know if I can keep my patience if they insist on shooting at me.” Schuldich winced. “Speaking of which, did someone promise me nice powerful painkillers, Kudoh?”

“No, but I’m sure I can get you some if you behave.”

“I’ll behave. Drug me now, and plot over my blissfully unconscious body. If I’m lucky you’ll have sorted out your little problem by the time I wake up.”

“Our problem.”

Schuldich looked up at Aya. He could argue. He could blithely ignore the comment. He could go find a beach somewhere and retire enjoying fruity drinks with little umbrellas. It was one of those pivotal decisions that Schuldich tried his damnedest to avoid at all costs. Schuldich bared his teeth in an honest, vicious smile. “Our problem,” he agreed.
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Strange Times