Laah dee dah, minna…my very first Weiß ficcy- ALL HAIL! Weeeell. I have no
idea where this is really going, so pleaaaaase (whine whine) review- and
suggestions? I'll write pretty much anything… danke shön!
[Ken]
Omi is sitting at the computer, typing a mission report. He certainly has a lot to say about this particular mission, the report is at two pages, and Omi shows no signs of winding it down.
"Erm… Omi-kun… I doubt Persia is going to want to read all that…" I take a step forward and peer over his shoulder.
It's worse than I thought. Omi has given a play-by-play of the mission, including some personal reactions. Most of our mission reports consist of just"target eliminated", but Omi has no intention of making this a normal report. More of a narrative.
" C'mon, Kenken! It went perfectly! It worked out so well! All of us did-"
"Not as well as myself" Youji appears in the doorway. I swear, every time there's more than one person in the room, it becomes a dorm party.
"So Ken- I've been meaning to ask you this- what is up with your little bear claw things? All my life I've thought 'bear-claw' was a pastry." Youji lights a cigarette, striking idle conversation as seems to be his sole purpose in life. Some ashes fall on the floor. If Aya were here, we'd have a Youji-kabob on our hands.
"Um…"
He continues. "And they're so messy! The wire is a nice, neat little weapon. Easy to hide, too. " he inspects his watch, in which the wire is coiled. If one were to look at the watch closely, they would notice that it is perpetually three-thirty. This has made for more than one interesting conversation with strangers who want the time. Youji would make one up, leaving us to wonder how messed up the poor recipient would be later.
"Finiiiiiished!" Omi sings as he twists his hands over his head.
My weapon is forgotten as topic of conversation.
"Great! I'll take it to Manx tonight…" Youji's eyes glaze over and his cigarette falls, forgotten, onto the floor.
Omi chooses to ignore Youji, popping the diskette out of the drive and deleting the file. We can't do anything on paper, because it might be found, and, well, that would be trouble. Instead, we have one little disk that we continually save over. One with a password, for added security. The password is pretty cryptic itself- it's actually "flower" translated into C++. Something only Omi knows. And Persia, I guess.
"So… what's going tonight?" Youji has forgotten that his cigarette is on the floor, occasionally sending up a half-hearted ribbon of smoke, and lights a new one.
The man is going to burn our house down one of these days.
"Not much- Manx wanted to give us a new mission… she didn't say much over the phone, so I'll assume it's nothing too bad…" Omi's in the process of shutting down the computer, which, being the competitive little machine that it is, decided to beat him by freezing. He gives it an impressive lecture on manners and unplugs it.
If computers could smirk, this one would certainly be doing just that.
[Omi]
Manx turns the screen off and turns to face us, smiling as if she's expecting a film crew to materialize and edit her into "Mission Impossible".
"Are you all" She pauses for dramatic effect. "In?"
We all nod.
This woman needs a hobby. I attempt a mad dash to the kitchen. I'm making an effort to act very …un… melodramatic. Mostly because we all act like we're cast in a low budget movie most of the time. Partly because I really want pizza.
What that has to do with anything, I can't say. Actress Supreme has just told us to go out and kill people, but I really want pizza. I think it's got more nicotine in it than any seven of Youji's cigarettes.
"Omi…?"
I'm already up the stairs.
"Okay… that was weird…" Ken's playing Cat's Cradle with a bit of ribbon from the flower shop.
I come down the stairs, armed with the precious pizza.
Manx's film crew must be appalled.
Here we are, big tough assassins, sitting in the basement on this hideous green couch, our only light coming from an equally hideous amber colored lamp. One of us is hopelessly tangled in a string game that third graders can master. One of us (me) is staring lovingly at a slice of pizza. Another is groping on the floor for yet another lost cigarette, causing his sunglasses to slip off his head and land on Manx's foot. The last is leaning against a wall, covered in shadow. A good dramatic pose, but the orange sweater ruins all effect. Aya's sweater and the furnishings down here must have been kin at some point.
I take a bite of pizza, noting with satisfaction the horror on Manx's face, like she's preparing to storm off to her trailer.
[Aya]
Franny Keyes. What kind of name is that.
"Oi Youji! Want some coffee?" Ken holds the pot up in the air.
I don't need and freakish Crawford powers to predict what's going to happen next.
"YEOOOOOOGH!!!!!!" Ken repeats the (well-rehearsed) Dance of the Coffee on Foot.
Youji doesn't give him a hard time, as he has had his own experiences with a vengeful Mr. Coffee. "Sure."
All the machines in this house are dysfunctional. Omi complained to me for nearly an hour about the spiteful computer.
A spiteful PC and a vengeful Mr. Coffee.
Youji takes a sip of coffee. A look crosses his face like he's seen the Grim Reaper, and he dashes out of the kitchen.
Ken inspects his.
Omi munches his pizza.
Back to the file folder in front of me.
It seems the target is a sadistic middle school teacher called "Franny Keyes". In some obscure place in America.
Park Ridge. Why does Kritiker care about the goings on of American suburbs? Not that I'm complaining. It's their money.
Inside the folder are four plane tickets to O'hare Airport. I do not relish the idea of flying with my teammates.
Youji gets airsick. Ken fidgets the entire time. Omi falls asleep.
I relish less the idea of sneaking my katana through airport security. The wire, darts, even bugnucks (or whatever Ken calls those things) could be explained, but a sword is a bit obvious. Large, sharp, shiny object. It's sure to attract the guards like fly paper. I leave the folder on the table- should anyone else want it, they won't have to bother me- and leave the room.
[Youji]
I always assumed I'd die from a mission gone awry, lung cancer, or old age.
Not coffee.
Hidaka no baka, it seems, has different plans for me. But his torment can wait- I need to be in the flower shop in…
Negative fifteen minutes.
Oops. I grab a slice of Omi's precious pizza and speed over to the opening store, holding the pizza in my mouth and fumbling for a key.
Any key.
Finally, I pound on the door, not able to yell because there's pizza conveniently in my mouth.
Ken opens the door for me and gives me a funny look.
I try to snarl back, but the pizza falls to the floor. Oh woe.
Ken cracks up.
It's a little while later- I can't tell what time, exactly, but I'm assuming it's not three-thirty like my watch says- and the shop is boring me out of my mind. We've only had one customer all day, and she didn't buy anything.
The sprinkler drips a bit. I haven't turned it off all the way.
Omi drums his fingers on the counter top.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
"I'M GOING TO GO INSANE HERE!!!!!!" I throw my hands up in the air and search for the remote control.(Not in the air… never…mind..)
"Which we all knew was a long time in coming" a voice mutters sarcastically by my ear.
I spin around.
"AYA! Gads man, don't sneak up on people!"
He shrugs and turns twists the knob on the sprinkler, then walks to the front of the shop.
The it hits me.
Aya had insulted me.
"Heeeeeey!"
Omi snorts into the watering can.
Ken points at me, his shoulders shaking slightly.
I scowl and turn on the T.V, finding the remote to be under the cash register (I still wonder about that… it's as if the Remote Control Easter Bunny visits us nightly to find new and creative places to stash it.
Again, time passes. (Three-thirty…)
"Okay! Man your battle stations! School let out a minute ago!" Omi shouts, saluting us and moving to his "station" (the window display). I get up with a sigh and slump to the cash register.
I hate middle school girls.
I almost sympathize with that teacher.
[Ken]
Omi is sitting at the computer, typing a mission report. He certainly has a lot to say about this particular mission, the report is at two pages, and Omi shows no signs of winding it down.
"Erm… Omi-kun… I doubt Persia is going to want to read all that…" I take a step forward and peer over his shoulder.
It's worse than I thought. Omi has given a play-by-play of the mission, including some personal reactions. Most of our mission reports consist of just"target eliminated", but Omi has no intention of making this a normal report. More of a narrative.
" C'mon, Kenken! It went perfectly! It worked out so well! All of us did-"
"Not as well as myself" Youji appears in the doorway. I swear, every time there's more than one person in the room, it becomes a dorm party.
"So Ken- I've been meaning to ask you this- what is up with your little bear claw things? All my life I've thought 'bear-claw' was a pastry." Youji lights a cigarette, striking idle conversation as seems to be his sole purpose in life. Some ashes fall on the floor. If Aya were here, we'd have a Youji-kabob on our hands.
"Um…"
He continues. "And they're so messy! The wire is a nice, neat little weapon. Easy to hide, too. " he inspects his watch, in which the wire is coiled. If one were to look at the watch closely, they would notice that it is perpetually three-thirty. This has made for more than one interesting conversation with strangers who want the time. Youji would make one up, leaving us to wonder how messed up the poor recipient would be later.
"Finiiiiiished!" Omi sings as he twists his hands over his head.
My weapon is forgotten as topic of conversation.
"Great! I'll take it to Manx tonight…" Youji's eyes glaze over and his cigarette falls, forgotten, onto the floor.
Omi chooses to ignore Youji, popping the diskette out of the drive and deleting the file. We can't do anything on paper, because it might be found, and, well, that would be trouble. Instead, we have one little disk that we continually save over. One with a password, for added security. The password is pretty cryptic itself- it's actually "flower" translated into C++. Something only Omi knows. And Persia, I guess.
"So… what's going tonight?" Youji has forgotten that his cigarette is on the floor, occasionally sending up a half-hearted ribbon of smoke, and lights a new one.
The man is going to burn our house down one of these days.
"Not much- Manx wanted to give us a new mission… she didn't say much over the phone, so I'll assume it's nothing too bad…" Omi's in the process of shutting down the computer, which, being the competitive little machine that it is, decided to beat him by freezing. He gives it an impressive lecture on manners and unplugs it.
If computers could smirk, this one would certainly be doing just that.
[Omi]
Manx turns the screen off and turns to face us, smiling as if she's expecting a film crew to materialize and edit her into "Mission Impossible".
"Are you all" She pauses for dramatic effect. "In?"
We all nod.
This woman needs a hobby. I attempt a mad dash to the kitchen. I'm making an effort to act very …un… melodramatic. Mostly because we all act like we're cast in a low budget movie most of the time. Partly because I really want pizza.
What that has to do with anything, I can't say. Actress Supreme has just told us to go out and kill people, but I really want pizza. I think it's got more nicotine in it than any seven of Youji's cigarettes.
"Omi…?"
I'm already up the stairs.
"Okay… that was weird…" Ken's playing Cat's Cradle with a bit of ribbon from the flower shop.
I come down the stairs, armed with the precious pizza.
Manx's film crew must be appalled.
Here we are, big tough assassins, sitting in the basement on this hideous green couch, our only light coming from an equally hideous amber colored lamp. One of us is hopelessly tangled in a string game that third graders can master. One of us (me) is staring lovingly at a slice of pizza. Another is groping on the floor for yet another lost cigarette, causing his sunglasses to slip off his head and land on Manx's foot. The last is leaning against a wall, covered in shadow. A good dramatic pose, but the orange sweater ruins all effect. Aya's sweater and the furnishings down here must have been kin at some point.
I take a bite of pizza, noting with satisfaction the horror on Manx's face, like she's preparing to storm off to her trailer.
[Aya]
Franny Keyes. What kind of name is that.
"Oi Youji! Want some coffee?" Ken holds the pot up in the air.
I don't need and freakish Crawford powers to predict what's going to happen next.
"YEOOOOOOGH!!!!!!" Ken repeats the (well-rehearsed) Dance of the Coffee on Foot.
Youji doesn't give him a hard time, as he has had his own experiences with a vengeful Mr. Coffee. "Sure."
All the machines in this house are dysfunctional. Omi complained to me for nearly an hour about the spiteful computer.
A spiteful PC and a vengeful Mr. Coffee.
Youji takes a sip of coffee. A look crosses his face like he's seen the Grim Reaper, and he dashes out of the kitchen.
Ken inspects his.
Omi munches his pizza.
Back to the file folder in front of me.
It seems the target is a sadistic middle school teacher called "Franny Keyes". In some obscure place in America.
Park Ridge. Why does Kritiker care about the goings on of American suburbs? Not that I'm complaining. It's their money.
Inside the folder are four plane tickets to O'hare Airport. I do not relish the idea of flying with my teammates.
Youji gets airsick. Ken fidgets the entire time. Omi falls asleep.
I relish less the idea of sneaking my katana through airport security. The wire, darts, even bugnucks (or whatever Ken calls those things) could be explained, but a sword is a bit obvious. Large, sharp, shiny object. It's sure to attract the guards like fly paper. I leave the folder on the table- should anyone else want it, they won't have to bother me- and leave the room.
[Youji]
I always assumed I'd die from a mission gone awry, lung cancer, or old age.
Not coffee.
Hidaka no baka, it seems, has different plans for me. But his torment can wait- I need to be in the flower shop in…
Negative fifteen minutes.
Oops. I grab a slice of Omi's precious pizza and speed over to the opening store, holding the pizza in my mouth and fumbling for a key.
Any key.
Finally, I pound on the door, not able to yell because there's pizza conveniently in my mouth.
Ken opens the door for me and gives me a funny look.
I try to snarl back, but the pizza falls to the floor. Oh woe.
Ken cracks up.
It's a little while later- I can't tell what time, exactly, but I'm assuming it's not three-thirty like my watch says- and the shop is boring me out of my mind. We've only had one customer all day, and she didn't buy anything.
The sprinkler drips a bit. I haven't turned it off all the way.
Omi drums his fingers on the counter top.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
"I'M GOING TO GO INSANE HERE!!!!!!" I throw my hands up in the air and search for the remote control.(Not in the air… never…mind..)
"Which we all knew was a long time in coming" a voice mutters sarcastically by my ear.
I spin around.
"AYA! Gads man, don't sneak up on people!"
He shrugs and turns twists the knob on the sprinkler, then walks to the front of the shop.
The it hits me.
Aya had insulted me.
"Heeeeeey!"
Omi snorts into the watering can.
Ken points at me, his shoulders shaking slightly.
I scowl and turn on the T.V, finding the remote to be under the cash register (I still wonder about that… it's as if the Remote Control Easter Bunny visits us nightly to find new and creative places to stash it.
Again, time passes. (Three-thirty…)
"Okay! Man your battle stations! School let out a minute ago!" Omi shouts, saluting us and moving to his "station" (the window display). I get up with a sigh and slump to the cash register.
I hate middle school girls.
I almost sympathize with that teacher.