Vindication

Chapter Fifth

“Omi, is there anything?”

Fingers tapped vigorously on the keyboard, echoing in a rhythmic beat in the sparsely furnished mission room. “I’m doing the best that I can,” the younger man said patiently. “Kritiker is adamant about what information they allow to be accessed. And besides, I could get killed for hacking into their database for any type of information.”

“Just see what you can find,” Yohji pressed, pacing back and forth, wearing a hole in the rug behind Omi while sucking away on his second cigarette. For the past hour he had coerced Omi, despite the repercussions, to find any trace of Aya within the files of Kritiker’s database, but nothing had come up and with each minute that had passed, Yohji found himself worrying all the more. There hadn’t been any reason to raise alarms this early in the week, but the fact that Aya had destroyed his tracer caused Yohji to rebel against the swordsman’s wishes and find him on his own. It wasn’t as if he cared enough about Aya’s safety, or so he tried to convince himself when it wasn’t true.

“Why is it so important? Aya can clearly take care of himself during missions,” Ken said from his comfortable perch on the loveseat, throwing a tennis ball against a wall.

Yohji snorted but didn’t miss a beat in his pacing. “So you’ve said before.”

“You know…you’ve a sudden care in Aya’s life lately,” Ken observed, sitting up as he caught the tennis ball in his hand. “Why?”

“It’s nothing,” Yohji lied. “I’m just looking out for my teammate.”

“You never did before. At least, not to this extent.”

Yohji felt his irritation rise, but he kept it in check and slowed his pacing to a lesser degree. He didn’t appear as frantic now. “Aya just lost the only person he loved. What’s a little sympathy going to hurt?”

Ken shrugged, his face showing he was not satisfied with the half-ass reply, draping his legs over the armrest of the loveseat. “Nothing, I guess. It’s just a little odd, coming from you. The two of you hate each other.”

“Perhaps,” Yohji said softly, unable to deny the statement with a plausible answer. There was no way he would have admitted to Aya’s submission the night before he had left. Yohji couldn’t forget it, especially when Aya detested any sort of human contact or comfort. The man who couldn’t admit defeat or failure or any type of emotion aside from the burning hatred that seemed to have claimed a permanent residence inside of the swordsman’s heart.

“I found something!”

Yohji hurled himself forward, leaning over Omi’s shoulder like a cumbersome shadow. “What is it? What did you find?”

“Calm down, Yohji,” Omi implored and pushed the older man away from him, waving his hand in front of his face to ward off the smoke cloud. “It’s vague information, but it’s something that we can perhaps use to our advantage.”

“Well? I think I’ve grown a few more gray hairs in those few seconds.” Yohji was growing impatient, and he felt the need to pace again, but he opted to suck on the last remnants of his cigarette instead.

Ken laughed in the background but made no other comment on the manner of Yohji’s reaction. Fortunately, the young soccer player was smart enough to keep his mouth shut even if it was a difficult thing to accomplish. Although he was known for blurting out comments that were absolutely unnecessary, Yohji gave him credit for staying quiet.

“The targets are Andreo del Toro and Hector Valdez. There is no information on whether Aya had completed the mission or his whereabouts. I can only access the information on the targets.”

“That will be enough,” Yohji said, satisfied with at least something to go by. “Can you find their location? I’m sure that will lead us to Aya.”

“That’s going to be a problem,” Omi said tentatively as though Yohji was a ticking time bomb standing behind him. “There are numerous locations. Del Toro has at least three of those in North America alone.”

“How many are there in all?” Ken asked, standing beside Yohji now, looking over Omi’s shoulder also.

“Five total,” Omi answered, typing some more. “Give me a few more minutes, and I’ll have the addresses.”

“Five,” Yohji said thoughtfully, walking away from his teammates to sit on the loveseat. “Where would he be?”

“I think I would take my bet on Mexico and New York,” Ken announced as he skimmed through the information scrolling up the computer screen.

Yohji was curious. He took his spot behind Omi again and asked, “Why?”

Omi pointed to a certain window that had popped up on the screen. “It seems that Del Toro has a series of underground prostitution rings in those two locations. They are the largest, at least. I can be certain that Kritiker would use that criminal activity reason enough to eliminate them.”

“But how can you be sure that’s where we should look?”

“We?” Ken asked jokingly, raising an inquisitive brow at Yohji. “Who said Omi and I were going in on one of your idiotic plans when it was obviously clear to stay out of it in the first place?”

“It’s not stupid,” Yohji said defensively. He threw the butt of the spent cigarette in an empty soda can and reached for another to light up. The nerves were really eating him up inside, and all for what? A man who probably had no real feelings for him in the first place? He tried not to think of that idea and concentrated on lighting the new cigarette. “And we’re a team. We need to stick together.”

“Tell that to Aya,” Ken muttered.

Yohji could only nod in agreement. Damn Aya for taking on a mission alone. Damn Kritiker for giving the mission to Aya in the first place. And damn himself for letting Aya go on his own and caring too much for the redheaded bastard when he clearly thought he didn’t need anyone to help him on a mission. There was that sudden urge to scream again, but Yohji shook it off like a bad chill.

“I think I will go alone,” he said finally. “It may cause too much suspicion if you two come along.”

“You’re right,” Omi said.

“Tell me again. Why are you going after him?” Ken asked, leaning casually against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. There was a skeptical look on his face, and Yohji felt his frustration bubble to the service with that expression.

“Because…” Yohji closed his mouth once he realized he was unable to answer that with a plausible enough response. He was caught with his hand in the cookie jar, and there was no way to get out of it. “Oh hell.”

“See? I knew it!” Ken barked, bouncing back on his feet.

“Knew what?” Omi asked, keeping his gaze on the computer screen.

Yohji felt the heat rise in his cheeks. If Ken found out that Yohji lusted for Aya, he was done for. He would find the highest cliff and jump off to prevent any more shame and embarrassment.

“He just wants to prove Aya wrong. That he couldn’t really do this mission without us! Isn’t that right, Yohji?” Ken was actually beaming; it was close to ridiculous.

There was almost an audible sigh of relief, and Yohji slowly nodded his head, thankful for the occasional incompetence of his teammate.

Omi, on the other hand, didn’t seem as convinced as he gave Yohji a knowing look. The kid had proven one too many times that he had more common sense than he let on. There was no comment made, however, and Omi turned his eyes back to the computer, shaking his honeyed head. Yohji furrowed his brow at the awkward moment, but he wasn’t about to step up to the plate and ask what was on the kid’s mind. No way in hell was he going to admit that he had feelings for Aya, that sniveling, hotheaded-

“Admit it, Yohji!”

Yohji snapped his head toward Ken, scowling. “Go fuck yourself, Hidaka.”

Ken lunged for Yohji, making a grab for his neck, but the tall blonde easily dodged the feeble attack and knocked Ken into the wall. In the midst of Ken’s outraged screams and Yohji’s laughter, Omi called out in a low voice, barely audible above the din of obnoxious noise.

“Hey, guys…”

“You’re such an asshole, Kudou!”

Yohji snorted, casually sucking on his cigarette and inspecting his nails as though he was bored with Ken and his childish antics. In fact, it was not far from the truth. “You’ll have to come up with something more insulting, Hidaka. That’s getting old by now,” he said nonchalantly.

“Why you fucking pig-headed-“

“That’s better!”

“You didn’t let me finish!”

Before Ken could throw a punch at Yohji, Omi screamed, “GUYS!”

“What?” they said in unison, Ken’s voice rising above Yohji’s in annoyance.

“Look at this…” Omi said; his voice laced with sadness and disbelief.

Yohji leaned forward, his eyes squinting to read the information on the screen. Slowly, as realization set in, his eyes widened and a string of curses spilled from his mouth.

“Oh, fuck!”

----

Aya jerked to awareness at the feel of callused hands grabbing him, holding tight under his arms and pulling him up on legs that weren’t quite able to steady his weight. He blinked his eyes open, but his vision was drowned in obscurity, and his eyelashes scraped along rough cotton, proving that he was blindfolded. The discovery caused him to panic despite his limbs feeling lethargic along with his coherency. What had happened to him? He tried to move, to struggle out of the grasps of unwanted hands, only to find that his arms were handcuffed behind his back, the metal biting painfully into the tender flesh of his wrists. It explained the sudden ache in his shoulders that flared up to join his ever-growing list upon his rude awakening.

“Hold him.”

Aya stiffened. He knew that voice, and it sent a shiver along his spine, raising the hairs on his arms in goose flesh. It was Schuldig, member of Schwarz, and with that knowledge, images of what had happened came back to him in a tumbling wave. Hector Valdez, the club, Schuldig alive and working for the Spanish mob. Everything was remembered vividly, and Aya felt his head pound with the discovery of his failure to finish the mission. Aya abhorred failure as much as the agency he worked for.

There was an abrupt stick of a needle in Aya’s arm, and he jerked away from it out of surprise. The hands holding him tightened their grip, causing Aya to see white under his lids from the pressure applied to the underside of his arms. It hurt, the tender spots vulnerable. The painful hold was effective, and Aya stopped struggling, trying to catch his breath. Whatever drug was administered in his body this time, it wasn’t a sedative, but a reversal to eliminate the dregs of the previous drug swirling in his veins. In a matter of seconds, Aya didn’t feel as sluggish and weak-kneed, and he was able to stand, although still a little wobbly, on his own feet. However, that didn’t deter the hands that held him upright, restraining him even when he doubted he would have been able to escape, as bound and blind as he was.

Finally awake, kitten? Good.

Aya was released, and the two guards from earlier - he guessed by the weight of their meaty hands - stepped away from him. Seconds later, there was a soft hush of a door opening and closing, and Aya predicted he was alone with Schuldig. Just fucking great. He had no idea where he had been taken or where the telepath was, making him all the more vulnerable and helpless. But from the sounds of bass music pounding against the walls and ceilings, Aya assumed he was still in the club, possibly in the same room of the basement where he had killed Valdez. That thought alone gave him satisfaction, but not enough confidence to apprehend Schuldig’s plans.

“What do you want, Schuldig?”

The sudden rustle of cloth to his right seemed to reverberate in Aya’s ears without the aid of his eyes to see. He flinched from the German’s unexpected touch when long, nimble fingers stroked the cloth across his eyes.

“I think your fear will suffice for now,” Schuldig answered, and Aya could imagine a wide, malicious grin spreading across the telepath’s face.

Aya clenched his chained hands, gritting his teeth against spiteful words he desperately wanted to say, but he knew it would have only fueled Schuldig’s pride more.

Go on, kitten. Show some of that spirit. You are full of it.

A laugh echoed in the room, and Aya felt the effects of that menacing sound dance along his spine in a tingling wave of unease. He wasn’t afraid of Schuldig, but he couldn’t help the dread overcoming him of not knowing what the German had planned for his fate, what Del Toro wanted of him.

“Are you worried, my little kitten?”

“No,” Aya snarled, denying his own thoughts.

“That’s not what your mind is telling me,” Schuldig said in a singsong voice as he tapped Aya’s forehead with a blunt index finger.

“Stay out of my head!” Out of instinct to ward off the offending touches, Aya scuttled backwards, but Schuldig halted his feeble attempt at an escape and hauled him forward by a tangled hold on his shirt collar, easily lifting Aya halfway off the carpeted floor, revealing his true strength. It was then that Aya noticed he wasn’t wearing his long overcoat.

“I love your angst-filled thoughts so much, kitten. Why would I pass up the greatest opportunity to ravage them?”

“Fuck off,” Aya said, struggling against Schuldig’s hold on his shirt. “Stop toying with me and kill me already.”

“Why? So Kritiker won’t find out that their prize assassin was captured and failed a simple mission?”

Suddenly, Aya’s shirt was released, and he tumbled to the floor in a boneless heap, unable to brace his fall without balance. In a breathless moment, he was pushed onto his back, his bound hands crushed beneath him. He clenched his teeth against the aching pressure of Schuldig’s weight straddling his hips and gasped when cool hands snaked underneath his shirt, grazing along his ribs. Without the use of his hands, Aya used his legs, bucking and thrashing to throw Schuldig off of him, to no avail. The man was relentless, and Aya let out a strangled cry of surprise when Schuldig dug his nails into the tender flesh under his ribs, ran deep scores down his sides, leaving bloody welts in their wake.

“Get off me!”

“I have something better in mind,” Schuldig said.

There was the distinct sound of licking fingers, the wet lapping echoing in the room, and Aya felt his stomach twist in knots at the thought of Schuldig tasting his blood. Schuldig was as bad as Farfarello; there was no limit to his insanity.

“You’re insane,” Aya said breathlessly.

“Perhaps,” Schuldig said casually. “How about we put that theory to the test.”

A wordless cry of defiance escaped from Aya’s mouth before he even knew it, and he brought his knee up in a defensive kick to Schuldig’s groin. The hit was easily dodged, and his legs were spread wide apart, strong hands holding them down to prevent Aya from using them for self-preservation again. All Aya wanted was the sick bastard away from him, the German’s touch and restrain over him a haunting reminder of his helplessness. He hated that feeling more than anything for the fact that it reminded Aya that he hadn’t been able to keep his family from being killed, his sister from being murdered by cold-blooded monsters like Schuldig.

“Unfortunately,” the telepath continued, languidly stroking his thumb down the side of Aya’s face, “my boss is eagerly awaiting your presence. So, how about we take a rain check on this little tryst?”

“Fuck. You.”

“Ah, I knew you were eager but not that desperate, kitten,” Schuldig teased, twirling his finger around an ear tail.

Aya sharply turned his head away, shutting his eyes tightly behind the blindfold.

“Don’t deny it, kitten.”

“Stop calling me that,” Aya said through clenched teeth.

Schuldig laughed again and tenderly brushed his fingers through Aya’s sweat-dampened hair as though he was trying to soothe Aya’s trepidation. It was far from that, Aya knew, and he couldn’t control the tremor that ran down his spine at the plundering touch. Then, in a rush of frigid air, Schuldig was gone and there was no sound or a sense of presence to give Aya a notion of where the German was standing. There was no relief even if Schuldig had left him completely; the danger and uncertainty were ever present and eating away at Aya’s psyche.

Do you miss me that much, kitten? A deep chortle resonated in Aya’s mind. He shook his head to relieve it of the cobwebs entangling his thoughts and sat up on his knees. Turning his head this way and that, despite the burdening blindness, he couldn’t anticipate Schuldig’s movements so incapacitated.

Try to find me...

“No.” Aya clenched his hands, trying to focus on the bite of his short nails digging into the skin of his palm instead of Schuldig’s taunting voice in his head. “Stop playing games, Schuldig.”

“Who said I was,” Schuldig whispered into Aya’s ear, encircling a hand around his slender neck, causing the young swordsman to flinch out of surprise. He didn’t sense Schuldig coming near him without noticing it and so suddenly.

A little pressure was applied to Aya’s neck and he lifted his chin, out of instinct, to relieve the strain. The reaction seemed to satisfy Schuldig, and he began to stroke the underside of Aya’s chin with his thumb in languid circular movements, sending Aya into a whirlwind of discomfort and anger.

“Mmm,” Schuldig purred, the sounds vibrating against Aya’s temple. “I wish I could have you all to myself. I could just feed off of your fear and be content, but I would want more. Humans are never satisfied. They just keep coming back for more exciting things, ne?”

“I’d kill you first,” Aya vowed.

The hand around his neck vanished, but Schuldig’s body pressed against him did not. There was an overwhelming urge to squirm away from the German, but Aya restrained himself, refusing to give Schuldig the satisfaction of sensing his distress physically.

“You are so naïve, Aya.”

He stiffened, mindless of the German’s hands stroking the back of his neck, the statement like a hard punch to his stomach. There was no doubt that he couldn’t help wonder and fear what Schuldig had meant by it, but he wasn’t about to ask. He knew the man was arrogant enough to boast about it without having encouragement.

“I have instructions for you,” Schuldig said in a light, mocking tone, carrying an American accent easily, “that will complete half of your mission.”

Dazed, Aya blinked hard behind the blindfold as realization slowly set in, and he remembered those words not too long ago. Those were the same words that the Kritiker agent had said to Aya, giving him orders on the mission. It had been Schuldig the entire time, luring him into a trap.

“You?”

“You didn’t see through my guise at all,” Schuldig said proudly, laughing in Aya’s ear. “I thought you kittens were smarter than that.”

Anger barreled its way through Aya’s body, causing him to tremble in rage. He had been tricked, fooled to think that this mission was real. What about Birman and the briefing papers she had given him? Or was she in on the whole thing, too? Aya wanted to scream for falling hard into such a dangerous predicament, for allowing his sense of revenge to overpower all rational thought just as it had when he had gone after Takatori. This was no different aside from the fact that Aya had failed miserably, getting his sister killed and captured along the way.

“Once I heard the news of your sister’s death, I knew you wouldn’t hold back an opportunity to get your revenge. You were always predictable when it came to your emotions, even now. Little did I know that your mission would entail going after the same people who were responsible. What irony, eh?”

The truth in those words was like a ball of fire in Aya’s stomach, burning and churning his insides into a white-hot center of pain. It hurt; the reality of Aya-chan’s murderers revealed and his inability to see the ploy that had been set out against him from the beginning. He was such a fool, so stupid, and like Schuldig had said, so naïve.

Schuldig laughed again, surely sensing what Aya was thinking and satisfied with the outcome. With his laugh still filtering the room, he grabbed the back of Aya’s neck in a painful grip and dragged him to his feet, then pushed him forward. Without the aid of his sight or the balance of his arms and the shock that had encompassed his body, Aya stumbled over his own feet and almost fell to his knees again if it hadn’t been for Schuldig’s strong restraint on his neck.

“Don’t act so glum so soon, Aya,” Schuldig said in a mocking tone, his voice light with amusement on Aya’s behalf. “You haven’t even met your new employer.”

Aya made no response, just gritted his teeth and allowed Schuldig to guide him out of the room, the anger and his own foolishness paralyzing his thoughts of any idea of defiance. A perfect image formulated in his mind, however, of his sword driving up into Schuldig’s head through his chin and killing him instantly. It was a gratifying thought, and Aya kept it strong, fueling the heat of his anger with different ways to kill the German with his sword. It helped him forget his failure during the mission, his intent to murder those that had robbed his sister of life weighing heavily on his heart. What else was there to do but seek revenge?

Vindication has become the core of you, Aya. And soon, it will eat you up from the inside out. Are you willing to deal with that?

“If it satisfies me with your blood on my hands, I will live with it,” Aya replied, feebly struggling under Schuldig’s grip as they continued to walk down a long corridor. It soon ended as a flow of cold air washed over Aya’s body, ruffling the strands of his ear tails, and the sounds of traffic came to life.

Schuldig gave a small laugh, releasing Aya’s bruised neck. “I’m sure it would, kitten.”

Aya was shoved down onto something cold and hard, and the impact made a metallic thump when his chin took the brunt of the fall, knocking his teeth into his tongue, causing him to see stars and taste blood at the back of his throat. It was the floor of a van he realized, once he was able to clear the painful fog from his head. His feet were collected underneath him, and he was pushed the rest of the way in, his head hitting the far wall with another heavy, painful thud. Closing his eyes and gritting his teeth, Aya endured the pounding headache and the uncomfortable position, laying halfway on his stomach and half on his side with his knees pressed close to his middle. There was an urge to rest his mind and allow his consciousness to ebb away, but no reprieve came when a hand rested on the small of his back, above his bound hands, when the vehicle started to move.

We have a ways to go. Why don’t you rest, kitten? I’ll watch over you.

A mirthful laugh echoed in Aya’s head, and he kicked out with both legs without the faintest thought of what he had planned to do next. The heel of his boots impacted with something soft, yet hard, and there was a satisfying crack as a body - hopefully Schuldig’s - crashed into the far wall of the van. A vengeful cry rang out, and Aya’s hair was grasped in an afflictive hold, yanking his face upward and angled awkwardly to where he had to twist his upper body before his neck snapped from Schuldig’s strength.

“That’s twice you’ve hit me, kitten. Twice too many.”

Pain so sudden and so excruciating enveloped Aya’s head, the pressure building up rapidly until he screamed and writhed like a wild animal escaping torment. It was all that he was capable of; the pain was too great to even think beyond the blind panic. Voices began to fill up, thousands of them raping his mind with images and thoughts that he had never fathomed. He thought he was going to die; the voices wouldn’t stop along with the pressure like a vise around his skull.

Welcome to my life.

Schuldig’s harsh voice was barely deciphered above the din of insanity invading every crevice in Aya’s mind; it all melted into one cacophony of soul-rending sound, severing the last string of consciousness that Aya held onto. He finally lost himself completely in the blessed, painless darkness where not even the voices could follow.

TBC...