part 282: "I have some idea, but I’m a telepath, not a smartphone."
Previous installments are available in my Memories here. Please make sure the Memory page is set to sort by Description to get the entries in the closest-to-correct order.
"Glass Houses" part 282/?
By Viridian5
4/2003 - present
RATING: R. If m/m interaction bothers you, pass this by. AU.
SPOILERS: Glühen.
SUMMARY: After Aya's sister dies, Schwarz tries to save themselves and Aya from the mistakes of the Dramatic CDs and Glühen Schwarz tries to save him from himself--for their own reasons, of course--and neither they nor Weiß are ever the same again.
ARCHIVAL/DISTRIBUTION: No, not yet. This is a trial run of a piece of an unfinished fic.
DISCLAIMERS: All things Weiß Kreuz belong to Koyasu Takehito, Project Weiß, Polygram k.k., and Animate Film. No infringement intended.
NOTES: Thanks to rosaleendhu and red_squared for audiencing, typo-watch, and encouragement. Thanks to 'nat for "puisín," which she says probably sounds like "pu-sheen." Inspirational music includes Covenant's United States of Mind, mayatawi's V Mix the Second CD (Jane Jensen, Kidneythieves, Poe's rock version of "Hello," Kristen Barry's "Ordinary Life," Lacuna Coil), Linkin Park's Meteora, A Perfect Circle's Thirteenth Step, Pigface's Easy Listening..., Shriekback's "The Bastard Sons of Enoch," Zeromancer's Eurotrash, and Neuroticfish's Les Chansons Neurotiques.
I am not responsible for any therapy bills incurred as a result of trauma from doing research on things mentioned in this story. If you look up, say, "butter dog porn" on your own, I refuse to take the blame. I've been told that it's a bad idea to eat soup or drink while reading "Glass Houses."
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"Glass Houses" part 282
By Viridian5
========================
Wearing nothing aside from his partially unbuttoned shirt, Schuldig made a sound almost like a hungry growl as Crawford unzipped his own fly, which amped Crawford’s arousal up further, immediately obvious in the way his hard cock pressed against the silk of his now visible boxers. Still growling, Schuldig pressed up against him for some frottage and nipped at his neck. Although Crawford often protested aloud, he admitted inwardly that he enjoyed their little games. Sex didn’t always have to be dead serious.
Crawford had a sudden flash that Persia would call him and it’d be a very important call. His phone went off half a minute later. “Schu, I have to take this. It’s Persia.” His cock had softened somewhat from the precognitive flash anyway.
Schuldig’s eyes went dark and dead. “You better be fucking kidding me.”
“I’m not. Sorry.” Crawford disentangled himself from his telepath to get his phone. Schu was understandably pissed off, but business was business.
Growling in a very different way, Schuldig grabbed his clothes, walked into the bathroom, and slammed the door shut behind him. This reaction suggested enough seriously hurt feelings and anger that Crawford might have to apologize *fervently*.
This call better be as worth it as his precognitive flash had suggested. Crawford answered his phone with a simple and curt “Hello,” not seeing the need to abase himself to Persia.
“Crawford, you gave me the impression that Schwarz wouldn’t work against Kritiker’s interests, so what the hell happened today?” Persia sounded *pissed*, though so far he’d made some attempt to rein it in.
“You’ve heard about today’s job already? Though you’re overstating the negative results for your organization,” Crawford answered pleasantly.
“Of course I’ve heard. You did something *really* big and flashy with a high body count.”
“We’re freelancers, not your contracted employees. We don’t have to give you advance notice on everything we do, and what we did hear doesn’t go against Kritiker anyway. You should be happy that we’ve killed so many criminals.”
“You just upset the balance of power in Tokyo’s underground! Everything’s currently in freefall! Of *course* that goes against Kritiker’s interest!”
“We needed to see how things would move. We can’t wait for all the talents Kritiker has gathered to hit the market and determine conditions *for* us. You have a big advantage over us, and we needed to fix *that* balance to be more fair to us. Also, these people were all criminals, and Kritiker claims to be anti-crime. Are you telling me that Kritiker is actually about keeping the crime at a status quo?”
Persia answered with a similar sweetness, although he added even more strychnine to his, “If your team keeps murdering this many people in one shot you’ll quickly put yourselves out of work. We’re anti-crime but there are certain balances to maintain. If you push too hard too quickly some things will *snap*. I can only hope Schwarz faces the results of that along with Kritiker.
“You may be a foreigner, but you’ve lived here long enough to have some idea of things work here. Your time in Vienna and vacation in Jamaica weren’t *that* long. I may have to reconsider hiring you for jobs in the future if your judgment is this off. At least Naoe is reliable.”
Crawford knew he had to keep his temper and not burn bridges, but he couldn’t entirely back down. “What do you think will happen to the status quo when the talents Kritiker is stockpiling start going out into the field? Kritiker cornering the market will give you some advantages, but people will *react*. Possibly *overreact*, given what will be your obvious monopoly. Change is inevitable. You should trust the judgment of a man who can see the future. Also, Schwarz absolutely can *not* advise you on our non-Kritiker job or give you the right to refuse them for us. If people found out that Schwarz is giving out mission information to and being controlled by Kritiker no one would hire us, and with the number of talents showing up in Tokyo these days it wouldn’t take that long to get out. I refuse to make my team unemployable just to indulge your urge to micromanage people around you.”
Persia didn’t immediately reply, but the quality of the silence on the other end of the line suggested that he was thinking about what Crawford said, more than he ever could have said of Eszett. In Eszett they expected you to follow orders to the letter, and if the orders were impossible and you failed they killed you, maybe torturing you first, for that failure. If you tried to make them see reason before accepting an irrational order, they’d torture and kill you in front of the others to make an example of you.
“I’ll consider your points,” Persia answered, “but I’ll need some kind of concession from you and Schwarz.”
“Think about it and get back to me later. I was in the middle of something important when you called and have to get back to it. Consider me interrupting it to attend to your call instead an admission of how much of an important employer you are to us.”
“We’ll talk later.” Persia ended the call. Good.
Crawford had been approaching the bathroom through the conversation, so all he had to do now was open the door. After a warning knock. “Now where were we?” He’d have to work himself back up to arousal, but he’d do it.
Schuldig finished dressing himself in sharp, angry, jerking motions. “Where we were is over because I finished myself off. You broke one of the cardinal rules with me: Don’t take me for granted.”
Fuck. The interruption had made Schuldig even angrier than he’d expected. “I’m sorry, but it *was* an important call. And I told him off.”
“Gee. That makes my blue balls worth it. Like hell.” Schuldig knocked Crawford aside with his shoulder as he left the bathroom. “I’m not in the mood to talk to you. If you don’t want this to turn into a nasty fight right now, let me leave without a hassle, give me time to cool off a little, and then work extra hard to make this up to me. That’s as much mature behavior as I can manage at the moment.” A restrained response, by Schuldig standards.
“All right. I’ll see you later, and I *am* sorry.”
“Keep that in mind.” Schuldig went out the door into the hallway.
Crawford felt a flash of danger before he heard guns firing and saw Schuldig jump backward through the doorway to get back into their room and draw his gun. Schuldig said, “There are five in the hallway, three at the front desk, and three waiting at our car. I didn’t sense them before now because an off-site telepath was hiding them, but now that I know they’re here it’s impossible to for me not to notice. The telepath isn’t as powerful or skilled as I am. He is managing to give them *some* telepathic protection from me. Once we finish the minions off and get our butts out of any immediate line of fire, I’ll see if I can seriously injure their telepath from a distance.” Thankfully he’d put aside his pique to go right into professional mode.
If their car had been visible from the room’s dirty window, Crawford might have tried picking off some of the gunmen around the car. With that denied him, Crawford asked, “Do I have time to dress?”
“I can hold them off long enough for you to do it quickly. Since we’ll have to go outside for whoever’s at the car, we’re better off if you’re dressed because it makes less work for me to do telepathically to any bystanders seeing us.” After a major cry of pain from the hallway, Schuldig grinned. “One down for good. And another one. The remaining three on our floor are now in the elevator using the door for cover. The other hotel guests have no intention of opening their doors or coming out into the hall. No heroes here.”
“The better for us,” Crawford replied.
Crawford dressed quickly while Schuldig fired at their attackers while using the doorframe and room for cover then drew his own gun to get in the game. When Schuldig needed to reload, Crawford shot at their attackers. Although they injured two of the three remaining gunmen, they reached a stalemate, which continued, fruitlessly, for a while.
“This is taking too long,” Crawford said.
“The telepath is powerful enough to block me from influencing these guys into coming out where we can shoot them easier.”
“At least their holding the elevator car is preventing any more of them from coming up the easy way. Are any of them using the stairs?”
“So far, no. Screw this. I’m going to make a high-speed run at the elevator. Cover me, precog-style.”
“Of course I will. You don’t have to specify that.” Crawford immediately realized he’d given Schuldig an opening to attack him.
Schuldig snarled, “I shouldn’t have to tell you not to answer the phone while we’re having sex, but you made me do that and it didn’t even work.”
“This isn’t the time. We’ll get into it later.”
“We sure will. Okay, I’m ready to go.” Schuldig rushed out of the doorway into the hall and ran down the hallway at high-speed, zigzagging and shooting at them. If Crawford hadn’t been using his precognition on a moment-by-moment flash basis, he might have shot Schuldig while laying down cover fire.
It made him wonder. Most of the telepathic clones Eszett had churned out had been based off Schuldig’s specs, thus making them preternaturally fast. How many of those clones would get hit in friendly fire incidents? They couldn’t *all* have the proper backup. Had anyone considered this?
Crawford would have to see if it would be more advantageous to mention it to interested parties or keep it to himself. He’d decide it on a case-by-case basis.
He noticed the gunmen in the elevator jabbing a button in a panic, making the door close before Schuldig could dash in. Skidding to a stop right in front of it, Schuldig asked, “With all the things that are run-down in this hotel, the ‘close door’ button has to work better than usual?” He spent another minute or two standing there with his gun ready in case the door opened again then said, “They’re heading down to the ground floor in it.”
It took Crawford a minute to gather the rest of their gear from the room. He stopped at each corpse and quickly took any items he thought worthwhile--wallets, cell phones, guns, and ammunition--before joining Schuldig.
Riddled with holes, the elevator door at this level wouldn’t provide much protection, but the one at the ground floor would still be whole. Take the elevator down or the stairs? It would depend on their attackers.
“Do you know what they’re expecting us to do now?” Crawford asked.
“They’re not sure, so they’re calling for backup. They were really hoping they could take us out while we were otherwise involved. And don’t you *dare* tell me that makes Persia’s cockblocking and you going along with it a good thing. You know we’re both perfectly capable of defending ourselves and murdering people while still in the act.”
Although Crawford thought that they might be too involved in each other during sex to notice intruders and attackers until too late, he knew saying anything about it would just start another argument. Besides, Schuldig would no doubt respond that a phone going off had broken through Crawford’s focus.
Instead Crawford asked, “But are they going to wait for backup or try attacking us before then?”
“They’re keeping the elevator car at the ground floor to force us to use the stairs. Thus far, they’re not coming upstairs, just waiting down there. The uninjured guys are bandaging the shot guys’ wounds, but all six of them are waiting at the stairway exit with their guns out. The guys near our car are staying there.”
“I can feel the telepath trying to scan me. I’m blocking him.”
“He’s trying to pry into me too, and I’m sending him the biggest headache I can manage. Wait, I’m wiping us out so the other telepath has no idea where we are, which is even better.”
“Can you figure out his location?”
“I have some idea, but I’m a telepath, not a smartphone. I still don’t have the power of GPS.” As their adrenaline rush and battle camaraderie faded, Schuldig appeared to be getting bitchier again.
“I have no intention of waiting for their backup to arrive. I hate it, but we’ll have to take the stairs. Between the surfaces on the exterior of this building and the gunmen waiting near the car, going out the window and scaling the building isn’t an option.”
“I could probably do it alone, but I don’t think I can do it and concentrate on keeping you invisible at the same time.”
“It didn’t look like there were many things to grab onto from what I saw of the exterior before we came inside, and if there were they’d be covered in ice or snow anyway.”
“I can do it because I’m magic. I thought you knew that.”
Crawford considered it aloud. “If you climbed down the exterior while I took the stairs--”
“--you’d have to face six gunmen alone because not even I can climb down the outside of this building faster than you can get down the stairs. I know you’re awesome and some of these guys are injured, but even you’re not invincible so I can’t leave you to face those kinds of odds alone.”
Even though that could have been practicality talking, something in Schuldig’s tone genuinely touched Crawford, making him blurt out, “I love you.”
After a moment of obvious surprise, Schuldig smiled and answered, “They’re not allowed to get you because your ass is *mine*. So we take the stairs, me first with you behind me supplementing my fire.”
“Precog-style, of course.”
“Of course. If the banisters let me slide down while controlling my descent, I’ll be even faster and more surprising to our enemies.”
“For silent surprise, we walk down the stairs stealthily until we get to the last turn, then you slide at high-speed the rest of the way down. Don’t go so fast you lose me. I don’t want you taking six gunmen on alone either.”
“Gotcha. Let’s go get ’em.”
As they quietly walked down the stairs, Crawford said, ~ Let me know if they seem to suspect anything or start to come upstairs. ~
~ Of course! Currently, they’re still waiting for backup. ~
Finally they reached the last turn before the final flight of stairs and drew their guns. Crawford didn’t like the look of the banister, smooth from use but not as well-anchored as he’d prefer, but he knew Schuldig wouldn’t back down now and had the agility necessary to recover if it broke off under him. A very quick glance around the corner showed an open door and the gunmen.
Schuldig nodded at him then whipped around the turn and leapt onto the banister and just about *flew* down, firing his gun all the way. Crawford followed, *not* using the banister, and fired as well, able to aim easier than his speeding telepath could. It surprised the hell out of the men waiting for them, and those men paid the price in blood. Schuldig jumped off just before he reached the end, throwing himself into one of their attackers and knocking him down and dashing his head against the floor. In the heat of the moment Crawford didn’t know if all the men who went down were dead or just injured so he didn’t relax for a second.
~ I have to reload! ~ Schuldig said, not needing to say, “Cover me while I do!”
Two men ran in from outside, guns out, and Crawford, half-expecting it, shot them both down. ~ Were they part of the backup or two of the men assigned to our car? ~ Crawford asked Schuldig.
As he shot two of the men lying on the floor in the head to finish them off, Schuldig replied, ~ Two of the car guys. The backup hasn’t arrived yet. Right now, the remaining guy at the car is wondering what the hell to do as he waits for someone to call him or come out to tell him everything’s finished. ~
~ I won’t leave him in suspense, especially not with their backup on the way. ~ Crawford ran to the outside door, opened it, and shot the man in the head, happy that sketchy neighborhoods let him get away with doing things in public he wouldn’t try otherwise.
When he came back inside, dragging the corpse in with him, Schuldig looked up from his looting. “They killed the desk guy and destroyed his security camera and its footage, leaving less work for us.” With strychnine sweetness, Schuldig said, “I’m glad I don’t have to pay for our unproductive time in our hotel room after all.”
Since Crawford didn’t want to have a fatal accident in the near future, he replied, “I swear I’ll make it up to you.”
“You better. Anyway, I took any money I could find there and the sign-in book.”
They’d used fake names, but they had written something in there so Crawford wouldn’t complain. After he called one of their procurers to get them a new car and pick them up four blocks away from their current location, he helped Schuldig strip the gunmen of anything valuable and put it all in a handy tote bag Schuldig had taken from behind the front desk. Expecting that backup to arrive soon, they worked quickly. As soon as they got home he’d have to give Nagi all the cell phones to check them for valuable data and disable anything that could be used to track them.
Schuldig straddled the man he’d bodily knocked down, crouched down to get closer, and took his glove off his left hand to get skin to skin contact as he rested it over the man’s mouth. The man’s eyes shot open, and he made desperate but muffled sounds of pain.
Smiling down at him, Schuldig said, “Usually this wouldn’t hurt that much while I scanned you for the how and why behind your people finding and attacking us, but with your telepath trying to protect you I have to chip at you harder. So blame him.”
~ You don’t really have him pinned. He could attack you, ~ Crawford said, worried.
~ Normally I’d put my weight on him for that extra pain, but he’s bloody and I don’t want to get it on my clothes. Don’t worry, I’m telepathically forcing him to stay down, which is scaring the hell out of him. Fuck, I love this stuff. I don’t get to do it often enough lately. ~
Although he’d usually say Schuldig exaggerated, he couldn’t truthfully do it this time. He hadn’t been letting Schuldig be as casually sadistic to avoid offending Aya’s sensibilities during this delicate time of integrating him into Schwarz, and Schuldig had actually obeyed, amazing given how much he enjoyed this work.
And Crawford enjoyed letting and watching him do it. They shouldn’t have to completely deny themselves just for Aya. Crawford would have to find a way to let his telepath cut loose more often.
“That’s really all you know?” Schuldig asked his victim. “That’s pathetic. Guess I don’t need you anymore.” He brought his gun into the man’s view, letting him get a good look and have time to despair, then leapt up and shot him in the head.
“Anything useful?” Crawford asked.
“Yeah. I’ll tell you about it later, since the backup’s coming. They won’t be able to track us once we get rid of our current car.”
When they walked out to the car, Crawford saw that the driver’s side front window had been smashed for their enemies to see if Schwarz had left anything important and incriminating in there, which they hadn’t. Schuldig didn’t need an order to do what Crawford wanted him to do here; he used his lighter to set some papers from the front desk on fire and tossed them into the car through the broken window. Not happy with how that fire was coming along, Schuldig snapped the top off the lighter and poured the lighter fluid into the car near the little fires to help them burn.
When Schuldig, obviously disappointed, looked to him, Crawford answered, ~ It’s good enough. There’s nothing incriminating in there that *needs* to be destroyed, so we don’t need a raging conflagration. ~ Its license plates wouldn’t lead anyone to Schwarz’s home either.
~ But I love raging conflagrations! ~ It was the reason why he always carried a lighter, even when he didn’t smoke. ~ You know, as long as I’m not trapped inside them. ~
~ I know. Let’s get going. Quickly. ~
During their walk, Crawford felt thankful that yesterday’s snow hadn’t accumulated or left much of a mess for them to slog through. He hated leaving tracks behind for their enemies to follow and having wet feet, especially on cold days. It would have been ideal if Meguro had been waiting for them with their new car at the meeting spot when they arrived but didn’t work out that way, leaving them waiting in the cold, with Schuldig starting to fidget after about ten minutes.
~ If you’re bored, you can try to track down their telepath and injure him, ~ Crawford said.
~ That takes a lot of focus. Do you really want me doing that while we’re standing out on the street after being recently attacked? ~ Schuldig answered.
~ Good point. ~
~ Their backup just arrived at the hotel. The looks on their faces... hilarious. The telepath had warned them that everybody had been killed, but we did it with such *style* that it surprised them. ~ Schuldig grinned.
When Meguro showed up driving their new car--a black sedan of a different brand and model than their last car, nothing too new or too eye-catchingly shiny-clean--and got out, he said, “I’m sure I don’t want to know.”
After doing a brief walk around the car to check it out, Crawford replied, “That’s for the best,” as he got in and Schuldig let himself in on the passenger side. “Do you need us to drop you off somewhere?”
“No. My own ride will pick me up two blocks away from here. My payment will be delivered the usual way?”
“Of course. Thank you, Meguro-san.”
As Crawford drove them away, Schuldig relaxed in his seat and said, “This is comfy. I approve.” Yet he still fidgeted, obviously still excited and wired from the action at the hotel.
Crawford felt some of that himself. “That was excellent work back there.”
“Of course. I rule. By the way, I can’t kill the other telepath but I just knocked him unconscious and gave him a bit of a hemorrhage. I hope he enjoys the nosebleed.”
*His* telepath. “I’m sorry about the... thing with the phone call.”
“I know business is your lifeblood and all, but that was going over the line. It’s cool that you apologized, but it better not happen again. *Especially* not if it’s a call from that little cockblocker, Persia. You have voice mail, dammit, it can keep and you can hear what the caller wanted later, while getting *me* back to where I was before isn’t as easy. I repeat, I will *not* be taken for granted.” His telepath radiated cold, dark rage.
Crawford tried to lighten things a little. “I have a kind of Pavlov’s dog reaction to my phone going off.”
Schuldig answered it with a dangerous-sounding lightness. “Yes, and that’s why you turn it off completely during missions.”
That presented an immediate solution. “I swear I’ll turn it off in the future before we have sex. Every time. And I won’t go to answer it even if I get a precognitive flash.” At least not unless the flash told him the call was really, *really* important.
“You’re assuming you’re ever getting sex from me ever again.”
While he’d usually scoff inwardly at the idea that Schuldig *could* deny him sex for long, this time he couldn’t entirely discount it, not with Schuldig sounding and *feeling* like this. “You said you expected me to make this up to you. It stands to reason that I’d make up for a cockblocking through sex.”
“Does it.”
This didn’t sound like Schuldig’s usual sadism for giggles. This seemed serious, actual hurt feelings with consequences, so Crawford stepped very carefully. “You’re a great partner and a great telepath, and I really enjoy the fucking. I don’t want to lose you. There’s also the matter of what I said to you in the hotel. I know you heard it.”
“It could have been an ‘in the heat of the moment’ thing. I know how much killing enemies excites you and that you find competence sexy.”
“*I love you*. I realize I did something stupid that hurt you, and I’m trying to make it right.”
At last, Schuldig softened, possibly because he knew how difficult that had been for Crawford to say, how it went against his training. “Okay.”
That was probably as good as it would get, at least for now. Understanding the seriousness but knowing there was only so much he could do in the car, Crawford would work for better when they arrived home.
"Glass Houses" part 282/?
By Viridian5
4/2003 - present
RATING: R. If m/m interaction bothers you, pass this by. AU.
SPOILERS: Glühen.
SUMMARY: After Aya's sister dies, Schwarz tries to save themselves and Aya from the mistakes of the Dramatic CDs and Glühen Schwarz tries to save him from himself--for their own reasons, of course--and neither they nor Weiß are ever the same again.
ARCHIVAL/DISTRIBUTION: No, not yet. This is a trial run of a piece of an unfinished fic.
DISCLAIMERS: All things Weiß Kreuz belong to Koyasu Takehito, Project Weiß, Polygram k.k., and Animate Film. No infringement intended.
NOTES: Thanks to rosaleendhu and red_squared for audiencing, typo-watch, and encouragement. Thanks to 'nat for "puisín," which she says probably sounds like "pu-sheen." Inspirational music includes Covenant's United States of Mind, mayatawi's V Mix the Second CD (Jane Jensen, Kidneythieves, Poe's rock version of "Hello," Kristen Barry's "Ordinary Life," Lacuna Coil), Linkin Park's Meteora, A Perfect Circle's Thirteenth Step, Pigface's Easy Listening..., Shriekback's "The Bastard Sons of Enoch," Zeromancer's Eurotrash, and Neuroticfish's Les Chansons Neurotiques.
I am not responsible for any therapy bills incurred as a result of trauma from doing research on things mentioned in this story. If you look up, say, "butter dog porn" on your own, I refuse to take the blame. I've been told that it's a bad idea to eat soup or drink while reading "Glass Houses."
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"Glass Houses" part 282
By Viridian5
========================
Wearing nothing aside from his partially unbuttoned shirt, Schuldig made a sound almost like a hungry growl as Crawford unzipped his own fly, which amped Crawford’s arousal up further, immediately obvious in the way his hard cock pressed against the silk of his now visible boxers. Still growling, Schuldig pressed up against him for some frottage and nipped at his neck. Although Crawford often protested aloud, he admitted inwardly that he enjoyed their little games. Sex didn’t always have to be dead serious.
Crawford had a sudden flash that Persia would call him and it’d be a very important call. His phone went off half a minute later. “Schu, I have to take this. It’s Persia.” His cock had softened somewhat from the precognitive flash anyway.
Schuldig’s eyes went dark and dead. “You better be fucking kidding me.”
“I’m not. Sorry.” Crawford disentangled himself from his telepath to get his phone. Schu was understandably pissed off, but business was business.
Growling in a very different way, Schuldig grabbed his clothes, walked into the bathroom, and slammed the door shut behind him. This reaction suggested enough seriously hurt feelings and anger that Crawford might have to apologize *fervently*.
This call better be as worth it as his precognitive flash had suggested. Crawford answered his phone with a simple and curt “Hello,” not seeing the need to abase himself to Persia.
“Crawford, you gave me the impression that Schwarz wouldn’t work against Kritiker’s interests, so what the hell happened today?” Persia sounded *pissed*, though so far he’d made some attempt to rein it in.
“You’ve heard about today’s job already? Though you’re overstating the negative results for your organization,” Crawford answered pleasantly.
“Of course I’ve heard. You did something *really* big and flashy with a high body count.”
“We’re freelancers, not your contracted employees. We don’t have to give you advance notice on everything we do, and what we did hear doesn’t go against Kritiker anyway. You should be happy that we’ve killed so many criminals.”
“You just upset the balance of power in Tokyo’s underground! Everything’s currently in freefall! Of *course* that goes against Kritiker’s interest!”
“We needed to see how things would move. We can’t wait for all the talents Kritiker has gathered to hit the market and determine conditions *for* us. You have a big advantage over us, and we needed to fix *that* balance to be more fair to us. Also, these people were all criminals, and Kritiker claims to be anti-crime. Are you telling me that Kritiker is actually about keeping the crime at a status quo?”
Persia answered with a similar sweetness, although he added even more strychnine to his, “If your team keeps murdering this many people in one shot you’ll quickly put yourselves out of work. We’re anti-crime but there are certain balances to maintain. If you push too hard too quickly some things will *snap*. I can only hope Schwarz faces the results of that along with Kritiker.
“You may be a foreigner, but you’ve lived here long enough to have some idea of things work here. Your time in Vienna and vacation in Jamaica weren’t *that* long. I may have to reconsider hiring you for jobs in the future if your judgment is this off. At least Naoe is reliable.”
Crawford knew he had to keep his temper and not burn bridges, but he couldn’t entirely back down. “What do you think will happen to the status quo when the talents Kritiker is stockpiling start going out into the field? Kritiker cornering the market will give you some advantages, but people will *react*. Possibly *overreact*, given what will be your obvious monopoly. Change is inevitable. You should trust the judgment of a man who can see the future. Also, Schwarz absolutely can *not* advise you on our non-Kritiker job or give you the right to refuse them for us. If people found out that Schwarz is giving out mission information to and being controlled by Kritiker no one would hire us, and with the number of talents showing up in Tokyo these days it wouldn’t take that long to get out. I refuse to make my team unemployable just to indulge your urge to micromanage people around you.”
Persia didn’t immediately reply, but the quality of the silence on the other end of the line suggested that he was thinking about what Crawford said, more than he ever could have said of Eszett. In Eszett they expected you to follow orders to the letter, and if the orders were impossible and you failed they killed you, maybe torturing you first, for that failure. If you tried to make them see reason before accepting an irrational order, they’d torture and kill you in front of the others to make an example of you.
“I’ll consider your points,” Persia answered, “but I’ll need some kind of concession from you and Schwarz.”
“Think about it and get back to me later. I was in the middle of something important when you called and have to get back to it. Consider me interrupting it to attend to your call instead an admission of how much of an important employer you are to us.”
“We’ll talk later.” Persia ended the call. Good.
Crawford had been approaching the bathroom through the conversation, so all he had to do now was open the door. After a warning knock. “Now where were we?” He’d have to work himself back up to arousal, but he’d do it.
Schuldig finished dressing himself in sharp, angry, jerking motions. “Where we were is over because I finished myself off. You broke one of the cardinal rules with me: Don’t take me for granted.”
Fuck. The interruption had made Schuldig even angrier than he’d expected. “I’m sorry, but it *was* an important call. And I told him off.”
“Gee. That makes my blue balls worth it. Like hell.” Schuldig knocked Crawford aside with his shoulder as he left the bathroom. “I’m not in the mood to talk to you. If you don’t want this to turn into a nasty fight right now, let me leave without a hassle, give me time to cool off a little, and then work extra hard to make this up to me. That’s as much mature behavior as I can manage at the moment.” A restrained response, by Schuldig standards.
“All right. I’ll see you later, and I *am* sorry.”
“Keep that in mind.” Schuldig went out the door into the hallway.
Crawford felt a flash of danger before he heard guns firing and saw Schuldig jump backward through the doorway to get back into their room and draw his gun. Schuldig said, “There are five in the hallway, three at the front desk, and three waiting at our car. I didn’t sense them before now because an off-site telepath was hiding them, but now that I know they’re here it’s impossible to for me not to notice. The telepath isn’t as powerful or skilled as I am. He is managing to give them *some* telepathic protection from me. Once we finish the minions off and get our butts out of any immediate line of fire, I’ll see if I can seriously injure their telepath from a distance.” Thankfully he’d put aside his pique to go right into professional mode.
If their car had been visible from the room’s dirty window, Crawford might have tried picking off some of the gunmen around the car. With that denied him, Crawford asked, “Do I have time to dress?”
“I can hold them off long enough for you to do it quickly. Since we’ll have to go outside for whoever’s at the car, we’re better off if you’re dressed because it makes less work for me to do telepathically to any bystanders seeing us.” After a major cry of pain from the hallway, Schuldig grinned. “One down for good. And another one. The remaining three on our floor are now in the elevator using the door for cover. The other hotel guests have no intention of opening their doors or coming out into the hall. No heroes here.”
“The better for us,” Crawford replied.
Crawford dressed quickly while Schuldig fired at their attackers while using the doorframe and room for cover then drew his own gun to get in the game. When Schuldig needed to reload, Crawford shot at their attackers. Although they injured two of the three remaining gunmen, they reached a stalemate, which continued, fruitlessly, for a while.
“This is taking too long,” Crawford said.
“The telepath is powerful enough to block me from influencing these guys into coming out where we can shoot them easier.”
“At least their holding the elevator car is preventing any more of them from coming up the easy way. Are any of them using the stairs?”
“So far, no. Screw this. I’m going to make a high-speed run at the elevator. Cover me, precog-style.”
“Of course I will. You don’t have to specify that.” Crawford immediately realized he’d given Schuldig an opening to attack him.
Schuldig snarled, “I shouldn’t have to tell you not to answer the phone while we’re having sex, but you made me do that and it didn’t even work.”
“This isn’t the time. We’ll get into it later.”
“We sure will. Okay, I’m ready to go.” Schuldig rushed out of the doorway into the hall and ran down the hallway at high-speed, zigzagging and shooting at them. If Crawford hadn’t been using his precognition on a moment-by-moment flash basis, he might have shot Schuldig while laying down cover fire.
It made him wonder. Most of the telepathic clones Eszett had churned out had been based off Schuldig’s specs, thus making them preternaturally fast. How many of those clones would get hit in friendly fire incidents? They couldn’t *all* have the proper backup. Had anyone considered this?
Crawford would have to see if it would be more advantageous to mention it to interested parties or keep it to himself. He’d decide it on a case-by-case basis.
He noticed the gunmen in the elevator jabbing a button in a panic, making the door close before Schuldig could dash in. Skidding to a stop right in front of it, Schuldig asked, “With all the things that are run-down in this hotel, the ‘close door’ button has to work better than usual?” He spent another minute or two standing there with his gun ready in case the door opened again then said, “They’re heading down to the ground floor in it.”
It took Crawford a minute to gather the rest of their gear from the room. He stopped at each corpse and quickly took any items he thought worthwhile--wallets, cell phones, guns, and ammunition--before joining Schuldig.
Riddled with holes, the elevator door at this level wouldn’t provide much protection, but the one at the ground floor would still be whole. Take the elevator down or the stairs? It would depend on their attackers.
“Do you know what they’re expecting us to do now?” Crawford asked.
“They’re not sure, so they’re calling for backup. They were really hoping they could take us out while we were otherwise involved. And don’t you *dare* tell me that makes Persia’s cockblocking and you going along with it a good thing. You know we’re both perfectly capable of defending ourselves and murdering people while still in the act.”
Although Crawford thought that they might be too involved in each other during sex to notice intruders and attackers until too late, he knew saying anything about it would just start another argument. Besides, Schuldig would no doubt respond that a phone going off had broken through Crawford’s focus.
Instead Crawford asked, “But are they going to wait for backup or try attacking us before then?”
“They’re keeping the elevator car at the ground floor to force us to use the stairs. Thus far, they’re not coming upstairs, just waiting down there. The uninjured guys are bandaging the shot guys’ wounds, but all six of them are waiting at the stairway exit with their guns out. The guys near our car are staying there.”
“I can feel the telepath trying to scan me. I’m blocking him.”
“He’s trying to pry into me too, and I’m sending him the biggest headache I can manage. Wait, I’m wiping us out so the other telepath has no idea where we are, which is even better.”
“Can you figure out his location?”
“I have some idea, but I’m a telepath, not a smartphone. I still don’t have the power of GPS.” As their adrenaline rush and battle camaraderie faded, Schuldig appeared to be getting bitchier again.
“I have no intention of waiting for their backup to arrive. I hate it, but we’ll have to take the stairs. Between the surfaces on the exterior of this building and the gunmen waiting near the car, going out the window and scaling the building isn’t an option.”
“I could probably do it alone, but I don’t think I can do it and concentrate on keeping you invisible at the same time.”
“It didn’t look like there were many things to grab onto from what I saw of the exterior before we came inside, and if there were they’d be covered in ice or snow anyway.”
“I can do it because I’m magic. I thought you knew that.”
Crawford considered it aloud. “If you climbed down the exterior while I took the stairs--”
“--you’d have to face six gunmen alone because not even I can climb down the outside of this building faster than you can get down the stairs. I know you’re awesome and some of these guys are injured, but even you’re not invincible so I can’t leave you to face those kinds of odds alone.”
Even though that could have been practicality talking, something in Schuldig’s tone genuinely touched Crawford, making him blurt out, “I love you.”
After a moment of obvious surprise, Schuldig smiled and answered, “They’re not allowed to get you because your ass is *mine*. So we take the stairs, me first with you behind me supplementing my fire.”
“Precog-style, of course.”
“Of course. If the banisters let me slide down while controlling my descent, I’ll be even faster and more surprising to our enemies.”
“For silent surprise, we walk down the stairs stealthily until we get to the last turn, then you slide at high-speed the rest of the way down. Don’t go so fast you lose me. I don’t want you taking six gunmen on alone either.”
“Gotcha. Let’s go get ’em.”
As they quietly walked down the stairs, Crawford said, ~ Let me know if they seem to suspect anything or start to come upstairs. ~
~ Of course! Currently, they’re still waiting for backup. ~
Finally they reached the last turn before the final flight of stairs and drew their guns. Crawford didn’t like the look of the banister, smooth from use but not as well-anchored as he’d prefer, but he knew Schuldig wouldn’t back down now and had the agility necessary to recover if it broke off under him. A very quick glance around the corner showed an open door and the gunmen.
Schuldig nodded at him then whipped around the turn and leapt onto the banister and just about *flew* down, firing his gun all the way. Crawford followed, *not* using the banister, and fired as well, able to aim easier than his speeding telepath could. It surprised the hell out of the men waiting for them, and those men paid the price in blood. Schuldig jumped off just before he reached the end, throwing himself into one of their attackers and knocking him down and dashing his head against the floor. In the heat of the moment Crawford didn’t know if all the men who went down were dead or just injured so he didn’t relax for a second.
~ I have to reload! ~ Schuldig said, not needing to say, “Cover me while I do!”
Two men ran in from outside, guns out, and Crawford, half-expecting it, shot them both down. ~ Were they part of the backup or two of the men assigned to our car? ~ Crawford asked Schuldig.
As he shot two of the men lying on the floor in the head to finish them off, Schuldig replied, ~ Two of the car guys. The backup hasn’t arrived yet. Right now, the remaining guy at the car is wondering what the hell to do as he waits for someone to call him or come out to tell him everything’s finished. ~
~ I won’t leave him in suspense, especially not with their backup on the way. ~ Crawford ran to the outside door, opened it, and shot the man in the head, happy that sketchy neighborhoods let him get away with doing things in public he wouldn’t try otherwise.
When he came back inside, dragging the corpse in with him, Schuldig looked up from his looting. “They killed the desk guy and destroyed his security camera and its footage, leaving less work for us.” With strychnine sweetness, Schuldig said, “I’m glad I don’t have to pay for our unproductive time in our hotel room after all.”
Since Crawford didn’t want to have a fatal accident in the near future, he replied, “I swear I’ll make it up to you.”
“You better. Anyway, I took any money I could find there and the sign-in book.”
They’d used fake names, but they had written something in there so Crawford wouldn’t complain. After he called one of their procurers to get them a new car and pick them up four blocks away from their current location, he helped Schuldig strip the gunmen of anything valuable and put it all in a handy tote bag Schuldig had taken from behind the front desk. Expecting that backup to arrive soon, they worked quickly. As soon as they got home he’d have to give Nagi all the cell phones to check them for valuable data and disable anything that could be used to track them.
Schuldig straddled the man he’d bodily knocked down, crouched down to get closer, and took his glove off his left hand to get skin to skin contact as he rested it over the man’s mouth. The man’s eyes shot open, and he made desperate but muffled sounds of pain.
Smiling down at him, Schuldig said, “Usually this wouldn’t hurt that much while I scanned you for the how and why behind your people finding and attacking us, but with your telepath trying to protect you I have to chip at you harder. So blame him.”
~ You don’t really have him pinned. He could attack you, ~ Crawford said, worried.
~ Normally I’d put my weight on him for that extra pain, but he’s bloody and I don’t want to get it on my clothes. Don’t worry, I’m telepathically forcing him to stay down, which is scaring the hell out of him. Fuck, I love this stuff. I don’t get to do it often enough lately. ~
Although he’d usually say Schuldig exaggerated, he couldn’t truthfully do it this time. He hadn’t been letting Schuldig be as casually sadistic to avoid offending Aya’s sensibilities during this delicate time of integrating him into Schwarz, and Schuldig had actually obeyed, amazing given how much he enjoyed this work.
And Crawford enjoyed letting and watching him do it. They shouldn’t have to completely deny themselves just for Aya. Crawford would have to find a way to let his telepath cut loose more often.
“That’s really all you know?” Schuldig asked his victim. “That’s pathetic. Guess I don’t need you anymore.” He brought his gun into the man’s view, letting him get a good look and have time to despair, then leapt up and shot him in the head.
“Anything useful?” Crawford asked.
“Yeah. I’ll tell you about it later, since the backup’s coming. They won’t be able to track us once we get rid of our current car.”
When they walked out to the car, Crawford saw that the driver’s side front window had been smashed for their enemies to see if Schwarz had left anything important and incriminating in there, which they hadn’t. Schuldig didn’t need an order to do what Crawford wanted him to do here; he used his lighter to set some papers from the front desk on fire and tossed them into the car through the broken window. Not happy with how that fire was coming along, Schuldig snapped the top off the lighter and poured the lighter fluid into the car near the little fires to help them burn.
When Schuldig, obviously disappointed, looked to him, Crawford answered, ~ It’s good enough. There’s nothing incriminating in there that *needs* to be destroyed, so we don’t need a raging conflagration. ~ Its license plates wouldn’t lead anyone to Schwarz’s home either.
~ But I love raging conflagrations! ~ It was the reason why he always carried a lighter, even when he didn’t smoke. ~ You know, as long as I’m not trapped inside them. ~
~ I know. Let’s get going. Quickly. ~
During their walk, Crawford felt thankful that yesterday’s snow hadn’t accumulated or left much of a mess for them to slog through. He hated leaving tracks behind for their enemies to follow and having wet feet, especially on cold days. It would have been ideal if Meguro had been waiting for them with their new car at the meeting spot when they arrived but didn’t work out that way, leaving them waiting in the cold, with Schuldig starting to fidget after about ten minutes.
~ If you’re bored, you can try to track down their telepath and injure him, ~ Crawford said.
~ That takes a lot of focus. Do you really want me doing that while we’re standing out on the street after being recently attacked? ~ Schuldig answered.
~ Good point. ~
~ Their backup just arrived at the hotel. The looks on their faces... hilarious. The telepath had warned them that everybody had been killed, but we did it with such *style* that it surprised them. ~ Schuldig grinned.
When Meguro showed up driving their new car--a black sedan of a different brand and model than their last car, nothing too new or too eye-catchingly shiny-clean--and got out, he said, “I’m sure I don’t want to know.”
After doing a brief walk around the car to check it out, Crawford replied, “That’s for the best,” as he got in and Schuldig let himself in on the passenger side. “Do you need us to drop you off somewhere?”
“No. My own ride will pick me up two blocks away from here. My payment will be delivered the usual way?”
“Of course. Thank you, Meguro-san.”
As Crawford drove them away, Schuldig relaxed in his seat and said, “This is comfy. I approve.” Yet he still fidgeted, obviously still excited and wired from the action at the hotel.
Crawford felt some of that himself. “That was excellent work back there.”
“Of course. I rule. By the way, I can’t kill the other telepath but I just knocked him unconscious and gave him a bit of a hemorrhage. I hope he enjoys the nosebleed.”
*His* telepath. “I’m sorry about the... thing with the phone call.”
“I know business is your lifeblood and all, but that was going over the line. It’s cool that you apologized, but it better not happen again. *Especially* not if it’s a call from that little cockblocker, Persia. You have voice mail, dammit, it can keep and you can hear what the caller wanted later, while getting *me* back to where I was before isn’t as easy. I repeat, I will *not* be taken for granted.” His telepath radiated cold, dark rage.
Crawford tried to lighten things a little. “I have a kind of Pavlov’s dog reaction to my phone going off.”
Schuldig answered it with a dangerous-sounding lightness. “Yes, and that’s why you turn it off completely during missions.”
That presented an immediate solution. “I swear I’ll turn it off in the future before we have sex. Every time. And I won’t go to answer it even if I get a precognitive flash.” At least not unless the flash told him the call was really, *really* important.
“You’re assuming you’re ever getting sex from me ever again.”
While he’d usually scoff inwardly at the idea that Schuldig *could* deny him sex for long, this time he couldn’t entirely discount it, not with Schuldig sounding and *feeling* like this. “You said you expected me to make this up to you. It stands to reason that I’d make up for a cockblocking through sex.”
“Does it.”
This didn’t sound like Schuldig’s usual sadism for giggles. This seemed serious, actual hurt feelings with consequences, so Crawford stepped very carefully. “You’re a great partner and a great telepath, and I really enjoy the fucking. I don’t want to lose you. There’s also the matter of what I said to you in the hotel. I know you heard it.”
“It could have been an ‘in the heat of the moment’ thing. I know how much killing enemies excites you and that you find competence sexy.”
“*I love you*. I realize I did something stupid that hurt you, and I’m trying to make it right.”
At last, Schuldig softened, possibly because he knew how difficult that had been for Crawford to say, how it went against his training. “Okay.”
That was probably as good as it would get, at least for now. Understanding the seriousness but knowing there was only so much he could do in the car, Crawford would work for better when they arrived home.