A Day in the Life
Title: A Day in the Life
Recipient: Jeidar
Author: vr2lbast
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Schwarz team, humour.
Warnings: Langauge.
I really need to take a piss.
Schuldig's thought flowed between his teammates backed by his sense of urgency. He took some pleasure in the response: Crawford's exasperation, Farfarello's nonchalance, and Nagi's desperate attempt not to squirm.
Stop that, Nagi thought in reply. As the youngest of the four, he had less experience in withstanding Schuldig's little irritations.
The way I see it, if I have to suffer, we all have to suffer. I wish Eszet wasn't so damned paranoid. Then only Crawford would have to stand around looking uptight. He's good at that.
The conference room was full, but not over-packed. This was not a rally for all that it was political in nature. This was a meeting of businessmen planning business deals. No campaign promises here; the only way to get votes from these men was to prove that putting you in the winning seat would make them money. Reiji Takatori, the man that Schwarz had orders to protect, was attempting to do just that.
Bodyguarding is a pain in the ass, Schuldig commented. Bitching while his boss was talking was one of the best things about being a telepath.
So don't make it any worse than it needs to be, Nagi groused in the back of his mind.
Bored, Schuldig ignored Crawford and Farfarello and leaned on his youngest teammate, sharing the persistent need to find a bathroom. It amused him to see Nagi stiffen and try not to shift around, especially in front of so many people. Lined up behind Takatori, all four of them were on display, and at the far end of the row, Nagi did not even have the safety of the podium or their employer's broad figure to hide behind.
Schuldig's amusement did not last. His breath caught in his throat as he felt an unseen hand crush his windpipe. Nagi's smug satisfaction rolled over him, and Schuldig realized that strangling grip was telekinetic. The kid was getting good.
Schuldig knew that Nagi was unlikely to kill him - not on purpose, not with Crawford nearby - but the idea of passing out in front of Takatori and his peers did not sit well with him either.
Fine, I'm sorry, he sent over the mental connection. I don't mind kinky, but let's keep it at home, okay?
Nagi's thoughts exploded with disgust, which amused Schuldig in spite of his discomfort, but he was mollified and released the telepath. Schuldig's vision greyed and then cleared, but he did not pass out or even sway, and stood sharply at attention when Crawford's thoughts lashed out at them.
Both of you stop it. Eszet won't be pleased if you make a fool out of their pet project.
Schuldig allowed himself a subtle smile. If the people in this room could feel the disdain of their lowly bodyguards, they would shit themselves in outrage. They were men who wished to be feared, not looked down upon.
I get that, Schuldig thought, radiating peace and acceptance, but I'm not kidding. I really need to take a piss.
You're an adult. You can wait.
I'm an adult. I shouldn't have to wait.
The depth of Crawford's weariness was such that Schuldig could picture him sighing deeply and pinching the bridge of his nose. He was no less tired of this conference than Schuldig was.
If I could get them to finish more quickly, I would, he thought in earnest.
Why didn't you say so? Schuldig replied with malicious glee and opened up his sense of urgency to the room at large. It was all he could do not to laugh as the well-dressed businessmen began to stiffen and shift in their seats. The gathering was called to an end shortly thereafter.
"You're useful for something," Farfarello said once the room was cleared.
"I will take that as the compliment it clearly is not," Schuldig said cheerfully. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some urgent business to take care of. I will meet you all at the restaurant."
Crawford smirked as Schuldig left the room, but understanding did not dawn on him until he saw the line up outside the bathroom.
"I really hate this place," Schuldig murmured.
In the restaurant, there was no need to speak telepathically. Bodyguards and assorted personal assistants occupied the tables surrounding a large central table where Takatori and his cronies sat. Only Crawford, Takatori's most trusted bodyguard, was allowed to join them. The group was smaller than the gathering in the conference room, with only the best and most influential businessmen joining the electoral candidate to make deals more secret and far shadier than those proposed earlier on. Absorbed in anecdotes and promises, they paid little attention to the staff surrounding them. As long as he spoke in a low voice, Schuldig did not fear being overheard and speaking aloud cut down on the number of voices in his head.
"The food's good, why complain?" Nagi said. Farfarello said nothing - he was rather quiet when the topic was not religious - but he shrugged once to show that he had no preference one way or the other.
"The atmosphere stinks." Nagi looked around at the décor, but Schuldig shook his head. "Nah. The place looks all right, but it's supposed to be very traditional Japanese, right? The waitresses are supposed to give the impression of being geisha, although they don't have half the charm or talent. These men not only like being served, they know the waitresses for the cheap knock-offs they are and look, talk, and think down at them. Meantime, the waitresses bow and obey without flinching, but they think the men are all pigs. Worse than pigs. Pig shit. It gives me a headache."
"You think everyone is pig shit," Nagi pointed out. "Why should the waitresses be any different?"
Schuldig grinned. "Yeah, but that's because I know I'm better than them. And the waitresses are directing the same thoughts at me just for being here. I should be getting danger pay for working in a hostile environment."
Nagi snorted, feigning disdain, but Schuldig knew the kid hated the restaurant as much as he did. If nothing else, it forced him into a suit that itched and was beginning to feel tight. Nagi was a slight boy, but he was at the age where sudden growth spurts wreaked havoc on his wardrobe. All these thoughts and more rolled off of him in waves, along with a sincere appreciation for the food; in Nagi's opinion, Takatori's staff cooked the way fish drove cars: badly and with a lingering smell of charred seafood from failed experiments.
"You're a snob before your time," Schuldig told him. Nagi sipped his water and pretended not to hear, which amused Schuldig all the more. It also impressed him. In a restaurant filled with rich, educated gentlemen, the most refined among them was a fifteen-year-old orphan who could boil their brains with his mind, followed closely by a psychotic religion freak.
"I'm touched," Farfarello said, although Schuldig was unaware of having projected his thoughts. It was possible he had not. Sometimes, Farfarello just seemed to know things. "But you should pay more attention to the rats in the walls."
Rats in the walls?
Schuldig opened his mind to the whole of the restaurant. It was something he hated to do; the weight of so many complex thoughts hitting him at once was liable to give him a headache. Even so, it was his job to listen in on the thoughts of their enemies and once he had winnowed the filthy minds of the politicians from the hateful ones of the restaurant staff, he understood what Farfarello meant.
"Weiss again," Schuldig said, grinning. "It looks like they're tracking Honda. You know, the one who likes little girls."
Nagi shuddered and even Farfarello's thoughts darkened. None of them were free of morally questionable actions, but even they looked down on the buying of pre-teen girls for a night of sexual pleasure with distaste. Schuldig could think of only one creature lower than Honda: the parent that accepted his offer.
Carefully keeping his personal opinions apart, Schuldig tapped Crawford telepathically and shared the information that Weiss was on the hunt.
I'm tempted to let them have him, Crawford thought in reply, but Takatori needs his support and to have the man die at our client's dinner party would be counterproductive. How many of them are here?
Two. I don't know if they're just getting info or think that two will be enough to take Honda down.
More than enough, I'm sure. Beat them unconscious or chase them away, but get rid of them.
Schuldig allowed a shred of his amusement to travel back to Crawford. Even the man's thoughts were dry.
"No dessert tonight," he told his tablemates. "We're hunting Weiss."
Schuldig walked along the alley behind the restaurant, pretending to admire the stars above. He did not need to put a lot of effort into it; the alley was so black that the starts stood out, even over the light-drenched city. It was a remarkable sight.
Farfarello and Nagi were sent after Weiss's co-ordinator, that young boy with the troublingly blank mind. There was something there that Schuldig yearned to unlock, but now was not the time. It was perhaps overkill to send both the fighter and the telekinetic after him, but Schuldig knew the boy was clever and he had an advantage in the dark. Even if he was unable to fight either Farfarello or Nagi, he could elude them. Forcing him to face two opponents was merely an effort to highlight how useless it was to pursue Honda tonight.
Schuldig kept the other for himself, to beat in combat or to hold off until such a time as Nagi and Farfarello could force their target to call a retreat. In truth, he was a little nervous. He was not a physical fighter like Farfarello and chances were good that his opponent was both strong and agile. He wished briefly that he was facing Fujimiya's son - the young man's fanaticism could be easily exploited - but he applauded Weiss's decision not to send him. After what Reiji Takatori did to his family, the man's presence would be too much of a distraction.
This left Schuldig with a choice of two: one too sly to be easily read and the other too instinctive to follow. He would not know which one he was facing until he could draw out an emotion other than the blind hatred that washed over him.
"I know you're there," he said. "Come out or don't, I don't give a shit, but the guy you're after is off limits. Save us both some trouble and go home. It's been a long day and I'm really not in the mood."
The hatred Schuldig was receiving spiked at the mention of Honda.
"I don't like what he does to girls either," Schuldig said, but the hatred continued, unmodulated.
"Or to kids for that matter," he added and was rewarded with an almost painful burst of rage. He smiled, knowing where he stood.
"But I can't let that get in the way. Not tonight. I'm sure you understand."
The assassin in the dark did not, or could not, but that was all right. Schuldig bet on his lack of understanding to draw him out and it worked like a charm. Although he was not as fast as Farfarello, Schuldig had discovered long ago that it took only a moment's misdirection to influence a person's actions. Something as simple as a whispered thought, I'm on your right, could buy him just enough time to mount a defense.
As hoped, the attack missed him on the left side by a hair's breadth. Schuldig spun out of the way and swung a punch in the direction of his assailant, but the assassin had already danced out of reach. He stood in ready position, prepared to attack or defend as needed. Schuldig eyed his padded gloves and wondered why he was fortunate enough to be attacked with their blades retracted.
His opponent must have seen him looking because a whisper of thought gave him the answer.
"Bad form to kill off anyone not on the roster, is it?" Schuldig said, taunting. "Although I imagine you have orders to defend yourself." He dodged a misdirected punch and counter-attacked, managing to land a glancing blow on the young man before him. However, it was not enough to phase the assassin, who jumped back to better assess the situation.
Schuldig steeled himself. Although he would try to imply otherwise, the fact was that Crawford would not appreciate a death outside Takatori's favourite restaurant when he and a select number of his friends were dining inside. Schuldig would not let this get in the way of defending himself, of course, but a certain amount of restraint was required, especially if, as Crawford once suggested, Weiss might prove useful to them later on.
His opponent hunched, preparing for fight or flight, although Schuldig could not predict which it would be. It was not that the assassin could mask his thoughts - if anything he was entirely too open, but he was not a planner. Schuldig liked planners; they tended to focus on one series of actions, forcing them to stand out against the tangled skein of their thoughts. This one accepted and rejected ideas moment by moment, making him difficult to assess. Schuldig would have preferred to put Farfarello on him to judge the subtle movements of his muscles, but it was too late to think about that now.
Schuldig was so focused on his opponent's thoughts that he nearly missed the attack when it happened. He dodged two quick punches, one after the other, but caught a kick in the ribs that knocked him back against the outer wall of the restaurant. His head rapped smartly against the concrete and stars burst behind his eyes. With his sight dazzled and his telepathy momentarily scrambled, Schuldig did the only thing he could do to guarantee a favourable outcome. He drew the revolver from inside his jacket and pointed at his opponent's chest.
"I don't have time for this," he said quite reasonably. "The man you want is off limits tonight. Back away, or I will kill you."
It was not an action Schuldig wanted to take, but he would do it none-the-less. Even now he could see the assassin gauging his chances, proving once and for all Weiss's single-minded idiocy. And yet, idiocy was not quite the same as stupidity. Even as the assassin examined the angle of Schuldig's gun, he was stepping slowly and carefully toward the more shadowed part of the alley where a telepath might be able to sense, but not see, his target. As he melted into shadow, he squeezed the pad that released the blades of his bugnuks. The sharp claws gleamed in the moonlight and then dulled as they sank into shadow.
Schuldig braced himself. It would be hard to cause misdirection while aiming a gun and he did not doubt that his opponent was fast enough to get a good scratch in before he was gunned down. Even so, Schuldig did not doubt the outcome. After all, he had superior firepower. Crawford would have to find a way to clean up the mess, Takatori be damned.
Salvation came for both of them in the crackle of a headset speaker. Although Schuldig could not make out the words, he heard the definite sound of blades being sheathed and a darker shadow within the shadows flowed along the wall and vanished, followed closely by the sound of heavy boots on a fire escape.
Evidently, Nagi and Farfarello had succeeded. As if on cue, Farfarello sauntered back into the alley with Nagi a few paces behind him.
"How did it go?" Schuldig said, holstering the gun.
"He was very reasonable," Farfarello replied. He sounded disappointed.
"I'll be happy when we get a lead on where we should go and who we will need," Schuldig said. "I hate holding back while Crawford decides if those guys are useful."
Once again, on cue, although it was less surprising when a precognitive was involved, Schuldig felt a mental tap from Crawford.
How did it go?
Fine. They fucked off for tonight, but will probably try again later.
Let them. Honda is under our protection as long as he's in our client's company, but once he has returned home, he is no longer our responsibility.
Schuldig grinned. The thought of Honda being split by those bugnuk blades was something to smile about.
"Crawford says good job, and come on back. The drinks are on him," Schuldig said, heading toward the restaurant's kitchen entrance.
"Liar," Farfarello replied amiably.
"Yes, but you love me anyway."
"I want sake," Nagi said.
Schuldig threw an arm around his shoulders and steered him inside. "I made that up, kiddo. He's not going to buy you anything."
"Oh yes, he is," Nagi replied.
Schuldig sighed. The boy's thoughts were deadly serious.
"You need to lighten up. If Crawford doesn't think you're having a good time, he might force you to take a regular day job."
"God forbid," Farfarello said and if he did so with any trace of irony, Schuldig could not sense it.
"Point," Nagi said.
"Right. Why serve fast food when here we get such wonderfully diverse missions such as…" Schuldig searched his memory briefly and gave up. "Farfarello, what do we have for tomorrow?"
"Political rally," he said.
"Fuck. Think this place is hiring?"
They weren't an easy audience, but both Farfarello and Nagi smiled and that, Schuldig decided, was good enough for now.
Recipient: Jeidar
Author: vr2lbast
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Schwarz team, humour.
Warnings: Langauge.
I really need to take a piss.
Schuldig's thought flowed between his teammates backed by his sense of urgency. He took some pleasure in the response: Crawford's exasperation, Farfarello's nonchalance, and Nagi's desperate attempt not to squirm.
Stop that, Nagi thought in reply. As the youngest of the four, he had less experience in withstanding Schuldig's little irritations.
The way I see it, if I have to suffer, we all have to suffer. I wish Eszet wasn't so damned paranoid. Then only Crawford would have to stand around looking uptight. He's good at that.
The conference room was full, but not over-packed. This was not a rally for all that it was political in nature. This was a meeting of businessmen planning business deals. No campaign promises here; the only way to get votes from these men was to prove that putting you in the winning seat would make them money. Reiji Takatori, the man that Schwarz had orders to protect, was attempting to do just that.
Bodyguarding is a pain in the ass, Schuldig commented. Bitching while his boss was talking was one of the best things about being a telepath.
So don't make it any worse than it needs to be, Nagi groused in the back of his mind.
Bored, Schuldig ignored Crawford and Farfarello and leaned on his youngest teammate, sharing the persistent need to find a bathroom. It amused him to see Nagi stiffen and try not to shift around, especially in front of so many people. Lined up behind Takatori, all four of them were on display, and at the far end of the row, Nagi did not even have the safety of the podium or their employer's broad figure to hide behind.
Schuldig's amusement did not last. His breath caught in his throat as he felt an unseen hand crush his windpipe. Nagi's smug satisfaction rolled over him, and Schuldig realized that strangling grip was telekinetic. The kid was getting good.
Schuldig knew that Nagi was unlikely to kill him - not on purpose, not with Crawford nearby - but the idea of passing out in front of Takatori and his peers did not sit well with him either.
Fine, I'm sorry, he sent over the mental connection. I don't mind kinky, but let's keep it at home, okay?
Nagi's thoughts exploded with disgust, which amused Schuldig in spite of his discomfort, but he was mollified and released the telepath. Schuldig's vision greyed and then cleared, but he did not pass out or even sway, and stood sharply at attention when Crawford's thoughts lashed out at them.
Both of you stop it. Eszet won't be pleased if you make a fool out of their pet project.
Schuldig allowed himself a subtle smile. If the people in this room could feel the disdain of their lowly bodyguards, they would shit themselves in outrage. They were men who wished to be feared, not looked down upon.
I get that, Schuldig thought, radiating peace and acceptance, but I'm not kidding. I really need to take a piss.
You're an adult. You can wait.
I'm an adult. I shouldn't have to wait.
The depth of Crawford's weariness was such that Schuldig could picture him sighing deeply and pinching the bridge of his nose. He was no less tired of this conference than Schuldig was.
If I could get them to finish more quickly, I would, he thought in earnest.
Why didn't you say so? Schuldig replied with malicious glee and opened up his sense of urgency to the room at large. It was all he could do not to laugh as the well-dressed businessmen began to stiffen and shift in their seats. The gathering was called to an end shortly thereafter.
"You're useful for something," Farfarello said once the room was cleared.
"I will take that as the compliment it clearly is not," Schuldig said cheerfully. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some urgent business to take care of. I will meet you all at the restaurant."
Crawford smirked as Schuldig left the room, but understanding did not dawn on him until he saw the line up outside the bathroom.
"I really hate this place," Schuldig murmured.
In the restaurant, there was no need to speak telepathically. Bodyguards and assorted personal assistants occupied the tables surrounding a large central table where Takatori and his cronies sat. Only Crawford, Takatori's most trusted bodyguard, was allowed to join them. The group was smaller than the gathering in the conference room, with only the best and most influential businessmen joining the electoral candidate to make deals more secret and far shadier than those proposed earlier on. Absorbed in anecdotes and promises, they paid little attention to the staff surrounding them. As long as he spoke in a low voice, Schuldig did not fear being overheard and speaking aloud cut down on the number of voices in his head.
"The food's good, why complain?" Nagi said. Farfarello said nothing - he was rather quiet when the topic was not religious - but he shrugged once to show that he had no preference one way or the other.
"The atmosphere stinks." Nagi looked around at the décor, but Schuldig shook his head. "Nah. The place looks all right, but it's supposed to be very traditional Japanese, right? The waitresses are supposed to give the impression of being geisha, although they don't have half the charm or talent. These men not only like being served, they know the waitresses for the cheap knock-offs they are and look, talk, and think down at them. Meantime, the waitresses bow and obey without flinching, but they think the men are all pigs. Worse than pigs. Pig shit. It gives me a headache."
"You think everyone is pig shit," Nagi pointed out. "Why should the waitresses be any different?"
Schuldig grinned. "Yeah, but that's because I know I'm better than them. And the waitresses are directing the same thoughts at me just for being here. I should be getting danger pay for working in a hostile environment."
Nagi snorted, feigning disdain, but Schuldig knew the kid hated the restaurant as much as he did. If nothing else, it forced him into a suit that itched and was beginning to feel tight. Nagi was a slight boy, but he was at the age where sudden growth spurts wreaked havoc on his wardrobe. All these thoughts and more rolled off of him in waves, along with a sincere appreciation for the food; in Nagi's opinion, Takatori's staff cooked the way fish drove cars: badly and with a lingering smell of charred seafood from failed experiments.
"You're a snob before your time," Schuldig told him. Nagi sipped his water and pretended not to hear, which amused Schuldig all the more. It also impressed him. In a restaurant filled with rich, educated gentlemen, the most refined among them was a fifteen-year-old orphan who could boil their brains with his mind, followed closely by a psychotic religion freak.
"I'm touched," Farfarello said, although Schuldig was unaware of having projected his thoughts. It was possible he had not. Sometimes, Farfarello just seemed to know things. "But you should pay more attention to the rats in the walls."
Rats in the walls?
Schuldig opened his mind to the whole of the restaurant. It was something he hated to do; the weight of so many complex thoughts hitting him at once was liable to give him a headache. Even so, it was his job to listen in on the thoughts of their enemies and once he had winnowed the filthy minds of the politicians from the hateful ones of the restaurant staff, he understood what Farfarello meant.
"Weiss again," Schuldig said, grinning. "It looks like they're tracking Honda. You know, the one who likes little girls."
Nagi shuddered and even Farfarello's thoughts darkened. None of them were free of morally questionable actions, but even they looked down on the buying of pre-teen girls for a night of sexual pleasure with distaste. Schuldig could think of only one creature lower than Honda: the parent that accepted his offer.
Carefully keeping his personal opinions apart, Schuldig tapped Crawford telepathically and shared the information that Weiss was on the hunt.
I'm tempted to let them have him, Crawford thought in reply, but Takatori needs his support and to have the man die at our client's dinner party would be counterproductive. How many of them are here?
Two. I don't know if they're just getting info or think that two will be enough to take Honda down.
More than enough, I'm sure. Beat them unconscious or chase them away, but get rid of them.
Schuldig allowed a shred of his amusement to travel back to Crawford. Even the man's thoughts were dry.
"No dessert tonight," he told his tablemates. "We're hunting Weiss."
Schuldig walked along the alley behind the restaurant, pretending to admire the stars above. He did not need to put a lot of effort into it; the alley was so black that the starts stood out, even over the light-drenched city. It was a remarkable sight.
Farfarello and Nagi were sent after Weiss's co-ordinator, that young boy with the troublingly blank mind. There was something there that Schuldig yearned to unlock, but now was not the time. It was perhaps overkill to send both the fighter and the telekinetic after him, but Schuldig knew the boy was clever and he had an advantage in the dark. Even if he was unable to fight either Farfarello or Nagi, he could elude them. Forcing him to face two opponents was merely an effort to highlight how useless it was to pursue Honda tonight.
Schuldig kept the other for himself, to beat in combat or to hold off until such a time as Nagi and Farfarello could force their target to call a retreat. In truth, he was a little nervous. He was not a physical fighter like Farfarello and chances were good that his opponent was both strong and agile. He wished briefly that he was facing Fujimiya's son - the young man's fanaticism could be easily exploited - but he applauded Weiss's decision not to send him. After what Reiji Takatori did to his family, the man's presence would be too much of a distraction.
This left Schuldig with a choice of two: one too sly to be easily read and the other too instinctive to follow. He would not know which one he was facing until he could draw out an emotion other than the blind hatred that washed over him.
"I know you're there," he said. "Come out or don't, I don't give a shit, but the guy you're after is off limits. Save us both some trouble and go home. It's been a long day and I'm really not in the mood."
The hatred Schuldig was receiving spiked at the mention of Honda.
"I don't like what he does to girls either," Schuldig said, but the hatred continued, unmodulated.
"Or to kids for that matter," he added and was rewarded with an almost painful burst of rage. He smiled, knowing where he stood.
"But I can't let that get in the way. Not tonight. I'm sure you understand."
The assassin in the dark did not, or could not, but that was all right. Schuldig bet on his lack of understanding to draw him out and it worked like a charm. Although he was not as fast as Farfarello, Schuldig had discovered long ago that it took only a moment's misdirection to influence a person's actions. Something as simple as a whispered thought, I'm on your right, could buy him just enough time to mount a defense.
As hoped, the attack missed him on the left side by a hair's breadth. Schuldig spun out of the way and swung a punch in the direction of his assailant, but the assassin had already danced out of reach. He stood in ready position, prepared to attack or defend as needed. Schuldig eyed his padded gloves and wondered why he was fortunate enough to be attacked with their blades retracted.
His opponent must have seen him looking because a whisper of thought gave him the answer.
"Bad form to kill off anyone not on the roster, is it?" Schuldig said, taunting. "Although I imagine you have orders to defend yourself." He dodged a misdirected punch and counter-attacked, managing to land a glancing blow on the young man before him. However, it was not enough to phase the assassin, who jumped back to better assess the situation.
Schuldig steeled himself. Although he would try to imply otherwise, the fact was that Crawford would not appreciate a death outside Takatori's favourite restaurant when he and a select number of his friends were dining inside. Schuldig would not let this get in the way of defending himself, of course, but a certain amount of restraint was required, especially if, as Crawford once suggested, Weiss might prove useful to them later on.
His opponent hunched, preparing for fight or flight, although Schuldig could not predict which it would be. It was not that the assassin could mask his thoughts - if anything he was entirely too open, but he was not a planner. Schuldig liked planners; they tended to focus on one series of actions, forcing them to stand out against the tangled skein of their thoughts. This one accepted and rejected ideas moment by moment, making him difficult to assess. Schuldig would have preferred to put Farfarello on him to judge the subtle movements of his muscles, but it was too late to think about that now.
Schuldig was so focused on his opponent's thoughts that he nearly missed the attack when it happened. He dodged two quick punches, one after the other, but caught a kick in the ribs that knocked him back against the outer wall of the restaurant. His head rapped smartly against the concrete and stars burst behind his eyes. With his sight dazzled and his telepathy momentarily scrambled, Schuldig did the only thing he could do to guarantee a favourable outcome. He drew the revolver from inside his jacket and pointed at his opponent's chest.
"I don't have time for this," he said quite reasonably. "The man you want is off limits tonight. Back away, or I will kill you."
It was not an action Schuldig wanted to take, but he would do it none-the-less. Even now he could see the assassin gauging his chances, proving once and for all Weiss's single-minded idiocy. And yet, idiocy was not quite the same as stupidity. Even as the assassin examined the angle of Schuldig's gun, he was stepping slowly and carefully toward the more shadowed part of the alley where a telepath might be able to sense, but not see, his target. As he melted into shadow, he squeezed the pad that released the blades of his bugnuks. The sharp claws gleamed in the moonlight and then dulled as they sank into shadow.
Schuldig braced himself. It would be hard to cause misdirection while aiming a gun and he did not doubt that his opponent was fast enough to get a good scratch in before he was gunned down. Even so, Schuldig did not doubt the outcome. After all, he had superior firepower. Crawford would have to find a way to clean up the mess, Takatori be damned.
Salvation came for both of them in the crackle of a headset speaker. Although Schuldig could not make out the words, he heard the definite sound of blades being sheathed and a darker shadow within the shadows flowed along the wall and vanished, followed closely by the sound of heavy boots on a fire escape.
Evidently, Nagi and Farfarello had succeeded. As if on cue, Farfarello sauntered back into the alley with Nagi a few paces behind him.
"How did it go?" Schuldig said, holstering the gun.
"He was very reasonable," Farfarello replied. He sounded disappointed.
"I'll be happy when we get a lead on where we should go and who we will need," Schuldig said. "I hate holding back while Crawford decides if those guys are useful."
Once again, on cue, although it was less surprising when a precognitive was involved, Schuldig felt a mental tap from Crawford.
How did it go?
Fine. They fucked off for tonight, but will probably try again later.
Let them. Honda is under our protection as long as he's in our client's company, but once he has returned home, he is no longer our responsibility.
Schuldig grinned. The thought of Honda being split by those bugnuk blades was something to smile about.
"Crawford says good job, and come on back. The drinks are on him," Schuldig said, heading toward the restaurant's kitchen entrance.
"Liar," Farfarello replied amiably.
"Yes, but you love me anyway."
"I want sake," Nagi said.
Schuldig threw an arm around his shoulders and steered him inside. "I made that up, kiddo. He's not going to buy you anything."
"Oh yes, he is," Nagi replied.
Schuldig sighed. The boy's thoughts were deadly serious.
"You need to lighten up. If Crawford doesn't think you're having a good time, he might force you to take a regular day job."
"God forbid," Farfarello said and if he did so with any trace of irony, Schuldig could not sense it.
"Point," Nagi said.
"Right. Why serve fast food when here we get such wonderfully diverse missions such as…" Schuldig searched his memory briefly and gave up. "Farfarello, what do we have for tomorrow?"
"Political rally," he said.
"Fuck. Think this place is hiring?"
They weren't an easy audience, but both Farfarello and Nagi smiled and that, Schuldig decided, was good enough for now.