Chosen (edit/rewrite/revision)
By: Shukujo Kurai
Series: Weiß Kreuz
Warnings: shounen-ai, OOC, supernatural (for lack of better terms)
Rating: NR yet
Disclaimer: I do not own Wei Kreuz and I really wouldn't want to either. Why not? Too much responsibility. But it's nice to borrow them for this fic. ^.^
Author's Notes: This fic is based off of a nightmare I had. So far, it's extremely unfinished and I promise that later chapters will be more serious and...dark. *sweatdrop*
6 years later - still unfinished. Now I'm working on editing and rewriting bits to make everything flow better. I hope. Please comment/review. I'd really appreciate the help.
Do you ever just wonder about exactly WHAT your purpose in life is? Well, I do. Rather often, at that. I have come to the conclusion that my sole purpose in life is to annoy the hell out of others. What a goal to have in life. I have found no other strengths in my character. I mean, look, I drink too much, I smoke like a chimney in Asahikawa, I'm always late for things, I can't remember the simplest of to-do lists, I'm the epitome of laziness, not to mention the fact that I seem to have the natural talent for being an ass.
You see, I just got yelled at, for the eleventh time today, for being "preoccupied", as Aya so eloquently puts it. Damn heartless bastard. I mean hell yell at Ken for dropping everything! I'm not "preoccupied". I am, in fact, pondering the meaning of my pitiful excuse of an existence. Why do I have to always be the subject of his unique talent? (Aya would make one hell of a drill sergeant.) Oh yeah, because I'm the one who's seen as constantly screwing things up.
Dear God: my life sucks. Can I trade it in for a better one?
------
I can see Aya glaring at me from the register. It's not unusual, but today he appears to be considering taking action against my preceived laziness.
"Work." One sharp, biting command is usually all it takes. Today, however, I just look up at him with an unintelligible expression in my eyes and went back to my musings.
Aya pounds his fist into the cabinet near us both. "Now!"
This time, I lifted my head to glare at him before reading the slip of paper and shoving it back to the redhead. "You expect me to make something for a birthday party?" I ask, drawing myself to my full height instead of leaning against the countertop. I'm not sure what good it'll do; not much intimidates Aya. "Maybe a mortician's birthday!" I snap, tossing an arm over toward the arrangement that I'd made earlier.
Aya follows the gesture and shrugs at the sight. Dark flowers, few and far between, arranged in a simple yet rather boring design. "So?" He grumbles, not yet seeing my point.
I growl somewhere deep in my throat. He writes out the orders, so he should know what it's for. "That's for a BABY SHOWER." I spit, glaring at Aya as though he were evil incarnate. Well, not really. Very little could make me truly angry at Aya. "Nothing like having your flowers practically shout, 'look, I'm going to be spawning Satan.'" I argue anyway, making funny little hand gestures the entire way.
Aya blinks softly before possibly realizing that the statement had actually been quite funny, in it's own twisted little way.
"Everything I've made today has turned out to be dark and depressing." I swing my arm, displaying the other gothic-esque arrangements.
Aya says nothing, but turns back toward the register only to return with a different piece of paper. "There." He shoves the order at me, duly ignoring me when I roll my eyes and pick up the paper slip.
"A wake." I state dully, utterly thrilled with this new task. I turn my gaze back onto Aya, a slightly teasing glint in my eyes. I don't really want him angry for the rest of our shifts. "If the ones for baby showers look like that," again I gesture to the depressing bouquet, "then I don't want to know what the ones for wakes will turn out to look like." I then set about to bringing havoc upon the unresisting flowers.
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A mission. ANOTHER freaking mission. We had another surveillance one last night and IT lasted into the unholy hours of this morning. Well, to be fair, it ended probably no later than I would normally get home when I go out, but missions make early mornings much less satisfying. Kritiker has a death wish for us all. Watch them stick me with being the mole or bait, just watch them. Aya will be needed elsewhere, he being better suited for the job, whatever it is. Ken looks too clueless to remain unnoticed and Omi's WAY too young for most things. This mission just so happens to be at a club therefore I fit in perfectly.
Yep, I'm the damned mole. Joy upon everlasting joy. My day cannot get much better. I can't help but to give a soft sigh. One night of peace is all I ask we've had nearly back-to-back missions for what seems like months. Everyone's on edge because of it, especially me and Aya.
Recently Kritiker's had us investigating clubs in the search of a cult - Satanic, they believe. Unfortunately, no one else in Wei has been privvy to this little morsel of information. Manx and Briman both caught me one day at separate times to fill me in on aspects of this cult. It's really nothing more than a rumour, if you ask me. My superiors, however, seem to be convinced that this (particularly well hidden) cult is linked to a series of missing persons. Well, that aspect is nothing different from most of our missions. It seems to be that all our missions involve new illicit drugs or human trafficking. Why they feel this cult will be based out of a club is beyond me. Granted, most club patrons are prime targets for charismatic leaders impressionable youths searching for a place to fit in, a reason to keep going on with life in the daytime. Saying that makes me wonder why they won't send Ken or Omi in... The target would be more likely to hone in on them, but even I can't fully see either of them playing along long enough to validate Kritiker's suspicions. Ken's more of the the 'beat-em-to-a-pulp-first, ask-questions-to-their-unconscious-bodies-afterwards' kind of guy. Omi, well, I know the kid can handle himself and I know that he's been groomed for this kind of life since before most of us even thought assassins were real, but I think we all still try to shelter the kid from most things.
Meh. Bait duty calls.
-
The club is loud, smelly, and full of idiots - as per usual. When I come in, I have to dodge one drunkard after another and slide stealthily around people with - ahem - unusual body proportions. Ah, the clubbing life at its best. For some reason, I always look back at the people trying to dance on the floor. Trying being the key word there. It's just a bunch of idiots jumping around and attempting to shake their bodies to the beat of the music. Not exactly dancing, if you ask me. Not all clubs are like this, certainly not the ones I frequent. Aya's right, though; I fit in here. Well, except for the goth part.
I can't help but to sigh at that. He must hold me in the lowest possible regard; like a self-righteous saint looks upon the prostitute. Disgust. Pure and simple.
Sometimes I start thinking about what the others would do if I left Weiss and I grow more depressed immediately afterward. Omi'd worry, but Ken would take his mind off of things. Aya'd well, be Aya. He'd go about his day as though nothing has happened, his teammate hadn't left or been killed. Good ol' reliable Aya.
I sigh softly before someone bumps into me, mumbling an apology. Okay I try to remember the details of the guy I'm targeting. Mm cult leader black hair about Schuldig's length dark red eyes, probably from contacts the usual psychopathic look. I glance around at the Goth scene. Well, THAT shouldn't be too hard to find. I grumble and set about my impossible task.
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About 125 Goths later, I walk up to the bar, intending on getting a simple glass of water. No need to have high-and-mighty-Aya on my ass about drinking on the job. Besides, I only want something cold and wet. Hundreds of bodies packed in to a relatively small space has a tendency to overheat the atmosphere a bit and that's before you take into account the hopping and gyrating.
Something flashes and smoke pours up beside me.
I blink, stupefied.
"I am the vampire Belial!" A faked-deep voice attempts to bellow. Another Goth pops out from the smoke, complete with fake fangs and bad monster make-up.
I continue to stare up at the person, blinking in apparent wonder.
"I vant to suuck yuur bluud!"
I blink in an attempt to NOT bust out laughing.
"Belial wasn't a vampire, it was a fallen angel that's often equated with Satan." The bartender informs my new friend.
Not about to be mocked, the 'vampire' grins a fang-y grin at us, apparently going to start another running monologue with himself. Instead, a rather rotund woman strolls up, a 'not-all-there' look on her face.
I have to laugh softly. She's dressed up as that 'bee-chick' from some American music video that I can't remember the name of. Sans the glasses at least but the antennae are included! "And who might you be?" I had to ask, my curiosity was killing me.
"I am Lilith " She replies in a zombie-like voice.
And that relates to the bee thing how?
"Okay, then why the bee outfit?" The bartender asks, apparently amused by this spectacle as much as I am.
"Bees are cool." She informs us dully.
Oh, the humanity! "A glass of water please." I ask the bartender, who's attempting not to laugh at the bee-lady. It isn't working.
"Buzzzzz Buzzzzz!"
This time, both the bartender and I end up doubling over with laughter. Oh my God, this is freakin' hilarious! I have to come here more often.
"You You DO know that Lilith wasn't a bee-lady, right?" The bartender manages to get out between laughter.
She stares at nothing. "Mmm buzz buzz!"
I can't hold it in any longer and I bust out laughing, even harder than before.
"Laugh not at my little bumblebee!" 'Belial' commands us.
"I can't help it!" The bartender informs him, "See in Jewish lore, Lilith was supposedly the first wife of Adam who was cast out of Eden for refusing to bow down to him. Also, she's said to be even the darkness mentioned in Genesis."
"And that really has nothing to do with bees." I add before taking a sip of my water.
"What's with you guys anyway? I mean, you don't have any special powers just by saying that you're some random demon that you found mentioned in a comic book." The bartender asks, leaning against the bar in preparation for the impending answer.
"I do so have powers!" Belial retorts, forgetting to use his bad Transylvanian accent. "I appear out from the evil mists of Hell!"
I blink. "You use smoke-bombs "
He frowns as the bartender chuckles.
"Come, sweet Lilith, let us leave these mortals' presence!" He announces as he lights another smoke bomb to 'vanish' with.
I fan the smoke away, almost missing their presence. "That was great." I tell the bartender. "Do you get people like that often?"
He looks around. "Every night. You're in a Goth club."
"Well, yeah, I knew that. I just thought that they might be a little more serious about it, you know?"
He looks at me as though I've grown another head, which wouldn't surprise me at the moment. "Those WERE the serious ones."
My eyes open widely before I start laughing again. "You've got to be kidding me "
"If you're into that sorta thing, try downstairs." He tells me as he hands me a card, leaning out into the light. Hm long dark blue hair and nice blue eyes with American features. Not my guy.
I take the card after examining him for a minute. "What's your name?" I ask curiously.
"Josh." He replies as he wipes off the bar. "You?"
"Youji."
"Cool name." He compliments me. "At least it's not Azazel or something like that." He adds with a wink.
"You seem to know about all this shit." I probe, attempting to stall and find out information at the same time. I really don't want to run into anymore insane persons tonight, as entertaining as they might be.
He smiles at me and looks back down at the bar. "I'm a theology major."
"Aa." I nod. "I always liked theology never got the chance to really study it though." I tell him for no real reason. It's not really the truth.
This seems to catch his attention. "You should come to class one day then." He grabs a nearby napkin and scribbles something on it with a pen. "Here. Come on Tuesdays at nineteen hundred hours."
I look down at the address. It's a legitimate college, I've delivered flowers there once or twice for professors or secretaries. "I'll do that." It's the truth. If it gets me leads to this mission and gets me the heck outta here, I'm all for it.
"See that big monkey-looking guy over there?" He asks, leaning over and pointing at a man in the corner.
"Yeah "
"That's the bouncer for downstairs. Just show him that card and he'll let you through."
I nod. "Okay, cool." I reach out to shake his hand. "It was nice meeting you and thanks."
"Nice meeting you too. Thanks for not being crazy." He adds with a wink before going back to cleaning the bar and hanging an air freshener where the vampire guy was.
Author's Note: Please review/comment!