Interlude: Sursum Corda
January 19, 2000
a Rome, Italy
When Schuldig had come to this reality to do his funeral for Farfarello, he'd intended that to be his single visit to this place. He'd throw Farfarello's ashen mortal remains on the pope and scare the hell out of the crowd, then leave, never to return.
But once his rage and grief faded, he realized that he really needed to know the effects of his actions here. The whole point of shaking people and manipulating events was to shape what happened next. In the months since Schuldig had returned a few times to check out the reality's media. The pope had taken a major hit to his authority and respect, although he retained his title. At least for now. There were whispers that the College of Cardinals was in an uproar. Some people converted out of Catholicism, while others converted to it, thinking that such a manifestation around the pope might mean he and his faith were on to something. Secular news sources and atheists struggled to discover Schuldig's identity and motives and figure out how he'd teleported around. Non-secular sources openly wondered if he were a demon or the devil himself and a signpost of the upcoming Apocalypse.
The horror in discovering that the ashes were human remains had been close to universal. Schuldig remembered getting a lot of them into the pope's open mouth, and he could imagine his Farfarello having a big laugh over that.
An event that splashy and macabre--that had been captured on video cameras to boot--stayed in the global news for quite a while, although it had started to die down. Italy, especially the areas closest to Vatican City, however, retained more interest in it.
With his coat's hood up over his hair and rose-colored glasses over his eyes, Schuldig scanned the front pages of the papers at a newsstand. Did he want more rational attempts to explain what he'd done or more terror and religious speculation? Both could be fun!
Suddenly Schuldig felt Radio Schwarz come online and an almost familiar presence nearby. He picked up the closest paper, tossed some money down, and walked in the direction he sensed it in.
The man who walked toward him smiled, the smile widening the closer he came. It looked like he had the same scars on his face--the one across his nose, the one on the right side of his face near his eye, and the one that started near the right side of his mouth and ended somewhere under his chin--and an eyepatch covered his left eye, but his remaining eye was a nearly chocolate brown, just as his spiky hair was red. He had a rounder, almost sweet looking, face. Yet the mental signature was so close....
"Are you flesh or are you spirit?" this reality's Farfarello asked in English once he stopped in front of Schuldig.
"Definitely flesh," Schuldig answered in the same as he started to smile. He'd wondered how this reality's Farfarello would react to the funeral gift but hadn't looked for him to find out. He also hadn't researched this reality close enough to find out that Farfarello would look so different.
"Ah. When I saw the footage I'd wondered at first if Hell had vomited you up."
"You didn't think I'd be to Hell's taste?"
"I thought maybe the devil couldn't keep you. But then I saw that your shoulders are broader and your face more angular than his. You're older."
Schuldig took off his sunglasses. "I'm not your Schuldig."
"Aye, I figured, though I couldn't figure out how. Your eyes are blue. His were amber, though they looked almost green when his hair was. He died in the fall of the tower, but he took the Balinese kitten as his saucy escort to Hell or Valhalla, wherever."
"You don't look like my Farfarello either."
"The ashes you threw at the pope were his?"
"Yeah. He died on the job, in an exploded building."
He grinned. "Best funeral ever. It was like a dog whistle pitched to my hearing, saying, 'Come, Farfarello. The harvest is ripe.'"
"So you're here, doing what you love to do." Schuldig had seen news pieces on parishioners and priests brutally murdered in Rome and felt Farfarello's bloody hands in it.
"Yeah. But I also know Schuldigs and figured that you wouldn't be able to resist the urge to view the fruits of your labor. Sometime when you came back, I would find you. I wondered why you held the funeral here instead of the place you call home."
::Can we talk of that like this?::
Farfarello smirked. ::We can.::
::John Paul II is dead. Joseph Alois Ratzinger, the Panzerkardinal, is pope where I am.::
::The Prefect of the Congregation for the Doctrine of Faith and Dean of the College of Cardinals. Makes sense, as he's the pope's right-hand man. But talk of giving the sheep the pope they deserve.::
::My Farfarello thought it fitting that the pope looked like he ate babies, and we called him Pope Palpatine although officially he's Benedict XVI.::
::I too would prefer John Paul II to be the one to get my remains thrown on him. But your traveling doesn't let you go back in time within your own reality?::
::It's dangerous and not easy to.::
::My Schuldig was no teleporter.::
::I've picked up some tricks recently.::
"Ah. I'd like you to come home with me."
Schuldig wondered what Farfarello wanted. He couldn't quite read it in the whirl of Farfarello's mind, and assuming with him could be dangerous. "You and your Schuldig were friends?" Not that that guaranteed anything.
"Yeah. Come in off the street to see my etchings."
So far Schuldig didn't get danger signals from this Farfarello. "Sure. Is it far?"
"Not far. Follow me."
Considering the view those tight black leather pants Farfarello wore treated Schuldig to? "Gladly." Schuldig followed him, easily matching Farfarello's fast pace. "How are you paying for it, anyway? I don't imagine Brad's paying you to kill all these people."
"After I saw you attack the pope, there was no way I could stay away, no matter what Crawford did. I'm on my own here, without Schwarz. The money comes from my victims and collection boxes. If I'm already robbing them of their lives, I may as well take their coin too."
"How practical."
Farfarello grinned at him in a flash of teeth. "I am nothing if not practical."
Farfarello lived in a shabby building in a run-down area. They climbed three flights of stairs to a small, very sunny apartment consisting of a kitchen that contained a small table with two chairs and a queen-sized bed, and a small bathroom. "Impressive," Schuldig said.
"My needs are few, and none are sated by real estate or material possessions."
Hot under all the light pouring through the window, Schuldig unzipped his coat, took off his hood, and fluffed out his hair. Feeling a spike of intense emotion from Farfarello, Schuldig turned to face him. Farfarello had frozen in the process of unbuttoning his coat, and his eye was wide and rapt as he looked at Schuldig. Schuldig saw himself through it--the way the light in his hair gave him a nimbus of bright color and the way its orange confirmed his identity as the Schuldig who'd publicly humiliated the pope on the clip Farfarello had watched over and over--and felt Farfarello's awe and when the awe turned to intense lust. Thus it didn't surprise Schuldig at all to suddenly have Farfarello pressed up right against his body, his hand in his hair to tilt his head down, and his lips hard upon his.
Hard and hungry, they ground against each other and tore off their clothes, coats flying across the room. Farfarello undid one of the straps of Schuldig's gun rig and bared his teeth against Schuldig's lips at the thump the gun and leather made as it hit the floor. Lust made Schuldig's fingers clumsy as he undid the silver buttons on Farfarello's black, close-fitting, double-breasted tunic-like thing. They seemed to have some kind of heraldic symbol on them. Farfarello tore some of the buttons off Schuldig's shirt and pulled it down Schuldig's arms to fall off. Fortunately the cuffs slid right over the PINpoint and bracelet on Schuldig's wrists. Farfarello's tunic thing made a clank when it hit the floor, suggesting that the bottom part of it held some small blades. So many lovely scars revealed.... Still kissing fiercely, Farfarello pushed Schuldig back against the kitchen counter, unbuttoned the top button of his fly, unzipped the rest, and pulled his pants down.
Farfarello breathed out a laugh. "Nice underwear."
"My style is avant-garde."
Farfarello pulled his fingerless gloves and tossed them to his sides, dropped to his knees, pulled the neon green thong down, and gave Schuldig's hard cock a long, loving lick before taking it into his mouth so deeply that Schuldig could feel the back of his throat and sucking. The sensation made him buck and grip the spiky red hair on that bobbing head. When the hair pulling started Farfarello made a pleased sound around Schuldig's cock that made Schuldig shiver from how good it felt. With Schuldig feeling Farfarello and Schuldig radiating his sensations out, their lust and pleasure fed each other. Farfarello let him fuck his mouth for a while before pulling away, smirking at Schuldig's frustrated grunt, and messily licked his fingers before returning to the excellent blowjob. Schuldig moaned as Farfarello stroked the space behind his balls and ended up rimming him then moaned deeper and came as fingers thrust up into him. So good....
Farfarello swallowed and kept finger-fucking Schuldig as Schuldig made little whining sounds. After he gave Schuldig's cock a last lick, he said, "You're easy."
"You're complaining?" Schuldig answered as he rocked on those scissoring fingers. He looked down to see Farfarello jutting out of his open fly. "Doesn't look like it."
"I'm not."
"You wanna take my ass?"
"That's a stupid question if you look at the situation."
"I have condoms and lubricant in my coat pocket."
"The boy scout from Hell, as ever." He slid his fingers out, to Schuldig's grunt of complaint. "Turn around."
"You're gonna fuck me over a kitchen counter? You don't have a jot of romance in you."
"Hnh. I've changed my mind. Where the fuck did your coat go to.... There." Farfarello walked to the bed and the coat then went through the pockets. "You eat such junk...."
Farfarello still had bandages wrapped around his arms in places and a sheathed knife strapped just above one wrist. Hot. Farfarello wore twelve-eye boots but only laced them to a bit above the ankles and tied the laces around and around at that point; he probably had more knives strapped above that and hidden by the shell of the boots. Schuldig continued enjoying the sight of his ass and legs in those leather pants.
"Those are emergency rations."
"Junk." Once he had what he wanted in his hands, he put the condom on and slicked himself in long strokes. "Come here."
"Lie down on the bed on your back."
"You're bossier."
"I'm older than he was."
"He was blonder too."
"Are you complaining?"
"No." Farfarello untied his boots and kicked them off, revealing sheaths strapped to his legs, then was on his back lying on his bed. "If you'll kindly grace my cock with your presence...."
Schuldig snickered, stepped out of the puddle of clothes, and walked over. He straddled Farfarello's legs but put some necessary space between them and his ass before grabbing the lubricant. "The sun's right in my eyes."
"You're beautiful." Farfarello reached into the coat, pulled out the sunglasses, and shoved them at Schuldig. "Now get to the part where I fuck you, you wicked creature."
"Sweet talker." Schuldig put the glasses on, tinting the world rose, then slicked his fingers and started to fuck himself with them, letting Farfarello have a mental taste of how good it felt. "Mmmmm."
Farfarello grumbled and put his callused and scarred hands insistently on Schuldig's hips. Taking the hint, Schuldig eased himself down on Farfarello's cock and started to move himself up and down on it, enjoying the feel of it and the sight of Farfarello enjoying the sight. Then Farfarello really started to move, thrusting up hard and deep, and for a while Schuldig lost himself in the fucking and Farfarello's hands on him. Feeling Farfarello come threw him into a second orgasm.
Schuldig lost a few minutes after that, and when his brain came back online found himself lying on his side in a patch of sun with his glasses off while Farfarello finished taking his pants off then just about snuggled into Schuldig's side and toyed with some of his long hair. "I'm glad I found you," Farfarello said.
"You're cuter than mine was."
"Do you want to have something new to read about in the media?"
"What do you have in mind?"
Farfarello fingercombed Schuldig's hair. "Feel like making another appearance?"
"I'm not tossing anything else at the pope for a while. It's lost the element of surprise. I don't want to be a boring devil."
"I'm thinking a date maybe. You, me, weapons, and a church full of people."
"I haven't done anything like that in a while." But he liked this Farfarello a lot. "Sure. Let's paint a church red. Though you realize that we'll have to let one churchgoer survive to talk about it."
"I understand that."
"Just let me catch my breath and dress. And get my snake-headed pimp cane, since it's a more interesting weapon for killing the superstitious than a gun."
"I do hope you club people with it."
"No, I overwhelm them with my bling. Of course I club them with it."
Farfarello grinned then kissed him. "Another go before we leave."
"Give me a bit of time. I'm in my thirties and don't get it up again as fast as I used to, whippersnapper."
"How you talk and talk."
"Mmmm. Keep nuzzling my neck like that and see where it gets you."
"I'll do that."
((This is the interlude Schu was demanding I finish in this dear_mun post. The entry is backdated so it will come up on Schu's home page where it should.))
a Rome, Italy
When Schuldig had come to this reality to do his funeral for Farfarello, he'd intended that to be his single visit to this place. He'd throw Farfarello's ashen mortal remains on the pope and scare the hell out of the crowd, then leave, never to return.
But once his rage and grief faded, he realized that he really needed to know the effects of his actions here. The whole point of shaking people and manipulating events was to shape what happened next. In the months since Schuldig had returned a few times to check out the reality's media. The pope had taken a major hit to his authority and respect, although he retained his title. At least for now. There were whispers that the College of Cardinals was in an uproar. Some people converted out of Catholicism, while others converted to it, thinking that such a manifestation around the pope might mean he and his faith were on to something. Secular news sources and atheists struggled to discover Schuldig's identity and motives and figure out how he'd teleported around. Non-secular sources openly wondered if he were a demon or the devil himself and a signpost of the upcoming Apocalypse.
The horror in discovering that the ashes were human remains had been close to universal. Schuldig remembered getting a lot of them into the pope's open mouth, and he could imagine his Farfarello having a big laugh over that.
An event that splashy and macabre--that had been captured on video cameras to boot--stayed in the global news for quite a while, although it had started to die down. Italy, especially the areas closest to Vatican City, however, retained more interest in it.
With his coat's hood up over his hair and rose-colored glasses over his eyes, Schuldig scanned the front pages of the papers at a newsstand. Did he want more rational attempts to explain what he'd done or more terror and religious speculation? Both could be fun!
Suddenly Schuldig felt Radio Schwarz come online and an almost familiar presence nearby. He picked up the closest paper, tossed some money down, and walked in the direction he sensed it in.
The man who walked toward him smiled, the smile widening the closer he came. It looked like he had the same scars on his face--the one across his nose, the one on the right side of his face near his eye, and the one that started near the right side of his mouth and ended somewhere under his chin--and an eyepatch covered his left eye, but his remaining eye was a nearly chocolate brown, just as his spiky hair was red. He had a rounder, almost sweet looking, face. Yet the mental signature was so close....
"Are you flesh or are you spirit?" this reality's Farfarello asked in English once he stopped in front of Schuldig.
"Definitely flesh," Schuldig answered in the same as he started to smile. He'd wondered how this reality's Farfarello would react to the funeral gift but hadn't looked for him to find out. He also hadn't researched this reality close enough to find out that Farfarello would look so different.
"Ah. When I saw the footage I'd wondered at first if Hell had vomited you up."
"You didn't think I'd be to Hell's taste?"
"I thought maybe the devil couldn't keep you. But then I saw that your shoulders are broader and your face more angular than his. You're older."
Schuldig took off his sunglasses. "I'm not your Schuldig."
"Aye, I figured, though I couldn't figure out how. Your eyes are blue. His were amber, though they looked almost green when his hair was. He died in the fall of the tower, but he took the Balinese kitten as his saucy escort to Hell or Valhalla, wherever."
"You don't look like my Farfarello either."
"The ashes you threw at the pope were his?"
"Yeah. He died on the job, in an exploded building."
He grinned. "Best funeral ever. It was like a dog whistle pitched to my hearing, saying, 'Come, Farfarello. The harvest is ripe.'"
"So you're here, doing what you love to do." Schuldig had seen news pieces on parishioners and priests brutally murdered in Rome and felt Farfarello's bloody hands in it.
"Yeah. But I also know Schuldigs and figured that you wouldn't be able to resist the urge to view the fruits of your labor. Sometime when you came back, I would find you. I wondered why you held the funeral here instead of the place you call home."
::Can we talk of that like this?::
Farfarello smirked. ::We can.::
::John Paul II is dead. Joseph Alois Ratzinger, the Panzerkardinal, is pope where I am.::
::The Prefect of the Congregation for the Doctrine of Faith and Dean of the College of Cardinals. Makes sense, as he's the pope's right-hand man. But talk of giving the sheep the pope they deserve.::
::My Farfarello thought it fitting that the pope looked like he ate babies, and we called him Pope Palpatine although officially he's Benedict XVI.::
::I too would prefer John Paul II to be the one to get my remains thrown on him. But your traveling doesn't let you go back in time within your own reality?::
::It's dangerous and not easy to.::
::My Schuldig was no teleporter.::
::I've picked up some tricks recently.::
"Ah. I'd like you to come home with me."
Schuldig wondered what Farfarello wanted. He couldn't quite read it in the whirl of Farfarello's mind, and assuming with him could be dangerous. "You and your Schuldig were friends?" Not that that guaranteed anything.
"Yeah. Come in off the street to see my etchings."
So far Schuldig didn't get danger signals from this Farfarello. "Sure. Is it far?"
"Not far. Follow me."
Considering the view those tight black leather pants Farfarello wore treated Schuldig to? "Gladly." Schuldig followed him, easily matching Farfarello's fast pace. "How are you paying for it, anyway? I don't imagine Brad's paying you to kill all these people."
"After I saw you attack the pope, there was no way I could stay away, no matter what Crawford did. I'm on my own here, without Schwarz. The money comes from my victims and collection boxes. If I'm already robbing them of their lives, I may as well take their coin too."
"How practical."
Farfarello grinned at him in a flash of teeth. "I am nothing if not practical."
Farfarello lived in a shabby building in a run-down area. They climbed three flights of stairs to a small, very sunny apartment consisting of a kitchen that contained a small table with two chairs and a queen-sized bed, and a small bathroom. "Impressive," Schuldig said.
"My needs are few, and none are sated by real estate or material possessions."
Hot under all the light pouring through the window, Schuldig unzipped his coat, took off his hood, and fluffed out his hair. Feeling a spike of intense emotion from Farfarello, Schuldig turned to face him. Farfarello had frozen in the process of unbuttoning his coat, and his eye was wide and rapt as he looked at Schuldig. Schuldig saw himself through it--the way the light in his hair gave him a nimbus of bright color and the way its orange confirmed his identity as the Schuldig who'd publicly humiliated the pope on the clip Farfarello had watched over and over--and felt Farfarello's awe and when the awe turned to intense lust. Thus it didn't surprise Schuldig at all to suddenly have Farfarello pressed up right against his body, his hand in his hair to tilt his head down, and his lips hard upon his.
Hard and hungry, they ground against each other and tore off their clothes, coats flying across the room. Farfarello undid one of the straps of Schuldig's gun rig and bared his teeth against Schuldig's lips at the thump the gun and leather made as it hit the floor. Lust made Schuldig's fingers clumsy as he undid the silver buttons on Farfarello's black, close-fitting, double-breasted tunic-like thing. They seemed to have some kind of heraldic symbol on them. Farfarello tore some of the buttons off Schuldig's shirt and pulled it down Schuldig's arms to fall off. Fortunately the cuffs slid right over the PINpoint and bracelet on Schuldig's wrists. Farfarello's tunic thing made a clank when it hit the floor, suggesting that the bottom part of it held some small blades. So many lovely scars revealed.... Still kissing fiercely, Farfarello pushed Schuldig back against the kitchen counter, unbuttoned the top button of his fly, unzipped the rest, and pulled his pants down.
Farfarello breathed out a laugh. "Nice underwear."
"My style is avant-garde."
Farfarello pulled his fingerless gloves and tossed them to his sides, dropped to his knees, pulled the neon green thong down, and gave Schuldig's hard cock a long, loving lick before taking it into his mouth so deeply that Schuldig could feel the back of his throat and sucking. The sensation made him buck and grip the spiky red hair on that bobbing head. When the hair pulling started Farfarello made a pleased sound around Schuldig's cock that made Schuldig shiver from how good it felt. With Schuldig feeling Farfarello and Schuldig radiating his sensations out, their lust and pleasure fed each other. Farfarello let him fuck his mouth for a while before pulling away, smirking at Schuldig's frustrated grunt, and messily licked his fingers before returning to the excellent blowjob. Schuldig moaned as Farfarello stroked the space behind his balls and ended up rimming him then moaned deeper and came as fingers thrust up into him. So good....
Farfarello swallowed and kept finger-fucking Schuldig as Schuldig made little whining sounds. After he gave Schuldig's cock a last lick, he said, "You're easy."
"You're complaining?" Schuldig answered as he rocked on those scissoring fingers. He looked down to see Farfarello jutting out of his open fly. "Doesn't look like it."
"I'm not."
"You wanna take my ass?"
"That's a stupid question if you look at the situation."
"I have condoms and lubricant in my coat pocket."
"The boy scout from Hell, as ever." He slid his fingers out, to Schuldig's grunt of complaint. "Turn around."
"You're gonna fuck me over a kitchen counter? You don't have a jot of romance in you."
"Hnh. I've changed my mind. Where the fuck did your coat go to.... There." Farfarello walked to the bed and the coat then went through the pockets. "You eat such junk...."
Farfarello still had bandages wrapped around his arms in places and a sheathed knife strapped just above one wrist. Hot. Farfarello wore twelve-eye boots but only laced them to a bit above the ankles and tied the laces around and around at that point; he probably had more knives strapped above that and hidden by the shell of the boots. Schuldig continued enjoying the sight of his ass and legs in those leather pants.
"Those are emergency rations."
"Junk." Once he had what he wanted in his hands, he put the condom on and slicked himself in long strokes. "Come here."
"Lie down on the bed on your back."
"You're bossier."
"I'm older than he was."
"He was blonder too."
"Are you complaining?"
"No." Farfarello untied his boots and kicked them off, revealing sheaths strapped to his legs, then was on his back lying on his bed. "If you'll kindly grace my cock with your presence...."
Schuldig snickered, stepped out of the puddle of clothes, and walked over. He straddled Farfarello's legs but put some necessary space between them and his ass before grabbing the lubricant. "The sun's right in my eyes."
"You're beautiful." Farfarello reached into the coat, pulled out the sunglasses, and shoved them at Schuldig. "Now get to the part where I fuck you, you wicked creature."
"Sweet talker." Schuldig put the glasses on, tinting the world rose, then slicked his fingers and started to fuck himself with them, letting Farfarello have a mental taste of how good it felt. "Mmmmm."
Farfarello grumbled and put his callused and scarred hands insistently on Schuldig's hips. Taking the hint, Schuldig eased himself down on Farfarello's cock and started to move himself up and down on it, enjoying the feel of it and the sight of Farfarello enjoying the sight. Then Farfarello really started to move, thrusting up hard and deep, and for a while Schuldig lost himself in the fucking and Farfarello's hands on him. Feeling Farfarello come threw him into a second orgasm.
Schuldig lost a few minutes after that, and when his brain came back online found himself lying on his side in a patch of sun with his glasses off while Farfarello finished taking his pants off then just about snuggled into Schuldig's side and toyed with some of his long hair. "I'm glad I found you," Farfarello said.
"You're cuter than mine was."
"Do you want to have something new to read about in the media?"
"What do you have in mind?"
Farfarello fingercombed Schuldig's hair. "Feel like making another appearance?"
"I'm not tossing anything else at the pope for a while. It's lost the element of surprise. I don't want to be a boring devil."
"I'm thinking a date maybe. You, me, weapons, and a church full of people."
"I haven't done anything like that in a while." But he liked this Farfarello a lot. "Sure. Let's paint a church red. Though you realize that we'll have to let one churchgoer survive to talk about it."
"I understand that."
"Just let me catch my breath and dress. And get my snake-headed pimp cane, since it's a more interesting weapon for killing the superstitious than a gun."
"I do hope you club people with it."
"No, I overwhelm them with my bling. Of course I club them with it."
Farfarello grinned then kissed him. "Another go before we leave."
"Give me a bit of time. I'm in my thirties and don't get it up again as fast as I used to, whippersnapper."
"How you talk and talk."
"Mmmm. Keep nuzzling my neck like that and see where it gets you."
"I'll do that."
((This is the interlude Schu was demanding I finish in this dear_mun post. The entry is backdated so it will come up on Schu's home page where it should.))