ACID RAIN

Summary: "It's been such a long time, isn't it?" I continued the conversation, "Drug dealing. We've been busy killing people lately and it's a surprise that we're now selling drugs for Eszet. You remember we were selling drugs, don't you? The Traumhändler, my first group with you?" I asked him. -- Schu's POV.

Disclaimer: None of these are mine, including Hecate (name of a goddess of darkness - I don't even know how to pronounce it!!) and Diablo (taken from El Pollo Diablo, hehehe)... Schuldig, Crawford, Nagi, Farfarello, Eszet (sorry, I just don't like to see it written as SS) and all other Weiss Kreuz characters both mentioned and unmentioned in this story belong to Koyasu Takehito/Tsuchiya Kyokou/Project Weiss.

My comments: I was watching Ananda Lewis Show about drug abuse and I suddenly had a bursting idea to write this fic. Beg you pardon if you find that I make mistakes about the drugs or the symptoms and all. I've never touched them and never even see them. I never even smoke cigarette (well, aside from second-hand smoke off course).... I took the informations from encyclopedias and well, please do correct me if I'm wrong.... and oh... sorry if you find myself writing in third person... this fic has not been beta-read yet....

"text" -- conversations
//text// -- telepathic conversation or thoughts from other persons
text -- Schuldig's mind talking to himself

To Quince... sorry again... it's another new fanfic... I got stuck on My Family though I re-read it all the time. ^__^

Stay cool, stay clean... and enjoy the fic!!

Chapter One: Traumhändler

I gazed from one corner to another, watching people dancing. This is a very classy club, I thought. The dance was not those crowding and jumping up and down to some accelerated beat and shower of light. They were doing ballroom dance to a lulling music. This was not the place I really belong but I had to stay here anyway.

I tilted my head and my sight stopped at figures of men sitting at the bar, not very far from my table. They seemed to be talking business. They were all well-dressed, silk ties, well-pressed shirts, and woolen suits. One of them was wearing buttery colored suite. That figure turned his face and sent me a gaunt smirk. I knew that he was asking me to approach.

So the deal was made, I told myself and rose from the leather coach. I strode my legs to the bar. The three other men turned to look at me as the man gestured and pointed at me. He was telling them about me. I could hear his voice faintly, "That man will show you the merchandise."

I gave them a slight nod as I stopped there. "This way, gentlemen," I said, moving my hand and asked them to follow me. We walked through the kitchen door to an alley in the back of the club.

The alley was dim and it was deserted, very unlike the front façade of the club which seemed to be gloriously illuminated with little yellow bulbs and decorated with first rate frilly decorations to resemble baroque salons. It looked cheesy for someone from Europe like me, but perhaps these Asians just love those foolish imitations. The man with the cream colored suit closed the door behind him after he made sure that nobody was following us.

I stopped and waited for his further instruction.

"Crawford-san," one of the men, a stubby looking man with very small eyes said to that man, "When are you going to show us the merchandise?" He asked impatiently as I showed no signs of movements.

"Yes," Crawford replied with his deep, calm voice. There was some kind of charm in that voice that seemed to make the stubby man shrunk a bit for daring himself to ask. "Definitely," he turned to me and nodded. I suppose he was making sure that there would be nothing to interrupt our transaction. What bless to have the foresight!

I pulled out a small packet from my pocket and presented it to the three men. "Delirium," I heard my own voice said, "Synthetic hallucinogen, stronger than LSD and can be taken in any ways you wished, either inhaled, injected, or orally. And," I added with a grin on my face, "Unlike other kinds of hallucinogen, this one make sure that you get addicted after several times of consuming, depending on how you take it. That will make sure that you get customers at all times, as soon as you get some addicts in your hands."

I handed them the small packet. "You are free to get a one-shot. But let me advise you something, you'd better not touch this too much unless you want your business to ruin." I sniggered, "The more you take this, the more you will be dependent on this. And I believe you don't want to see yourself turning from a dealer to a user, do you? And we just hate to loose such a client like you are, Yamikaze-san."

I had a funny feeling that Crawford gave a slight snort on my words. My Bradley dear, you never know the joy of taking drugs, I thought, without letting any of it slipped out from my brain, that's why you can always forbid me to touch them so easily. You are just so… sober.

Ah yes, from all four, I seemed to be the only one dirty with drugs. Nagi and Farfarello might have killed people at earlier age than me, but they both were clean. Well, except that Farfarello had to take tranquilizers every now and then, which caused him not to touch alcohol either, he was very clean. Crawford was out of question, drug was never a thing for him, except as merchandise to sell. He didn't even smoke! He may drink a bit on some occasions, but he was always in control. The only one that seemed to become his addiction was caffeine and work.

"Then I will take your advice to not touch it," said Yamikaze-san. But he took the packet from my hand anyway and started to observe it, judging whether he wanted to continue with the transaction or not. "Can you guarantee that I will be the only one selling this stuff in this town?" he asked.

This time Crawford stepped forward and explained in a very polite yet threatening manner, "Yamikaze-san, I have told you before about under what kind of circumstances this deal is made. If you don't want to continue this deal, well, fine, there are other people who are interested in this business. You might be the highest bidder tonight, but I would go with the second best if it brought me more luck."

"Ah, Crawford-san, you don't change a bit." Yamikaze laughed as he patted Crawford's shoulder. I could be sure that Crawford would love to strike a bullet through that stubby head, but his face showed no emotions. The man continued, "Yes, yes, I can understand perfectly your thought, but I need to be sure that I can run a monopoly on this Delirium, at least in this town."

"You can play monopsony all the way you like with me, Yamikaze-san, but I'm the one who run the monopoly here, in Japan." Crawford spat. He seemed to loose control a bit, or was it just a show to threaten the Japanese? I knew the man too well that I could be sure that he was only threatening, Crawford never went with merely the highest bidder, he went with the ones he was sure would buy his merchandise.

We drove straight to Tokyo after the business. Crawford was on the steering wheel as usual. He was silent. It wasn't so surprising; I was the one who usually talk along the ride. He was only giving "yes" or "no" for answers. But I was a bit silent tonight. I let myself gazed at him intensely until he got bothered and asked me without even taking his eyes from the road.

"Why are you looking at me that way?" He asked in such disturbed tone that I nearly laughed hearing.

"Nothing. I was only thinking…."

"And?"

"I thought I heard you laughed when I showed them that drug. Am I right?"

"No."

And we were silent again. I kept on looking at him. I'm still wondering how he got to make me stopped using drugs. I remembered that he was the first one who introduced me with the sentence I said earlier to the stubby little man and his bodyguards. "You don't want to see yourself turning from a dealer to a user, do you?" he said then. And it was a very long time ago.

I had just been working for Eszet then, and one of my first jobs was selling drugs in pubs along Mediterranean shores. Farf and Nagi were not in the team then, and instead, we had a young woman named Hecate and a Spanish teenager named Diablo. They were no real names anyway. Crawford was the only one who kept using his real name.

Drug was Eszets' biggest source of income. It was some kind of easy money. Easy to come and easy to get, easy to loose as well. Everybody seemed to need some escapism from life and drugs can deliver them some ways. Opioids for those who wanted to neglect pain, hallucinogens for those who want to have a comfort in distorting their real life into the world of imaginations, sedatives if you want to calm your brain – the kind I chose to use, to stimulants to be able to dance all night long. You name what kind of euphoria you'd like to get, and I could prescribe you what kind of drug you need.

"It's been such a long time, isn't it?" I continued the conversation.

"From what?"

"Drug dealing. We've been busy killing people lately and it's a surprise that we're now selling drugs for Eszet. You remember we were selling drugs, don't you? The Traumhändler, my first group with you?" I asked him.

"Your first task. Yes. Why?"

"Do you remember Hecate and Diablo?"

He nodded unenthusiastically. "Those idiots!" he murmured.

Idiots, Brad? I wondered. For Crawford they might have been idiots, but I had a different perspective on them. No, they were no idiots, they were just unlucky ones.

I remembered Hecate and Diablo as lively and reckless people when we were handed our first mission ever. I was just entering my legal age and so was Diablo. Hecate was a bit older from us. She was about Crawford's age then. No, no, a bit older I supposed. The three of us got along very well. We loved the pubs, we loved the beach, and we loved the fun. Diablo loathed Crawford very much, first because he was being bossy over the others, but most of all because he thought that the man who was driving beside me tonight didn't know anything about having fun.

Hecate, on the other hand, told me once she had a certain interest in that man. She said that Crawford would give enough security for anyone under his wings. She bragged about Crawford being a good husband. Of course she was just drunk when she said that. She never really meant that. If she did, she would have joined us with Schwarz.

I could still recall the way Crawford was dressed by then. Of course he had not had the habit of wearing that creamy colored Armani suits. He was a bit more casual, though his outfits were always tidy and clean. I remembered his usual jeans and sneakers and white t-shirt covered with pale colored shirt. Always pale colored. I stole the reason out of his head once, he seemed to have this ridiculous thought, "if the good guys don't always wear white, then why not let the evil ones wear white?" Pretty stupid for a man like Crawford, but I liked his twisted thought.

I had not changed much since that day. Still wearing tight leather pants and white shirt with my lucky bandana to control my hair a bit. Diablo was not so different from me in look, although his hair was bluish black and was cut carelessly by himself every two or three months, giving himself a strange aura of self desertion. Hecate was a blond and tanned woman, much too ripe for her age. She had these enormous boobs that always attracted men's desire to touch them, and she knew well how to wear them. She was beautiful, but that was all.

"I remember you always failed to sell anything," I mused. Yes, everybody had failed at least once in a lifetime, including Crawford. I noticed him glaring at me, threatening me not to tell anyone about anything about that. It didn't need to be verbal, his mind was constantly emerging some kind of "I would kill you if that story reach other persons aside from me and you" sentences.

"And the three of us used to tease you for that," I continued.

"No you didn't," Crawford finally said something, "You never teased me at all. All you dared to do was sneaking out nasty words when you're drunk, but none of you were bold enough to say so when you're sober." He smirked, "That, Schuldig, does not count as teasing."

"OK, you win," I grudged, though I still wore a faint smirk on my lips. "But really, you're only good playing with the high class."

"I am high class."

"Ch!" I spat. I didn't know how he could beat me in words, making me wordless to give him a counter attack. But he always won if he meant it to, and I was never able to reply back. And some part of me, though unwillingly, had respected him for that.

And we gathered there, in our little bungalow, somewhere in Spain, collecting the money we got from our little transactions. Even a tiger had to become a toddler before it reached its hunting age, and so were we. The Eszets seemed to give us small tasks on our first jobs, and being a drug dealer is just one of the lowest and filthiest jobs available.

"How 'bout ya, Brad?" Hecate asked Crawford.

It was our first weekend after we were assembled together by the Eszet and being named as Traumhändler, with Hecate as our leader. She was the most trusted by Eszet's oracle. It wasn't a surprise, Crawford was sometimes rebellious in his own manner. He wanted to be the leader, not this small group's leader, but Eszet's leader.

Crawford reached into his pocket and pulled out a small bundle of money. His face was straight and emotionless. And he put the bundle in front of him without a word. In fact he had not been saying anything at all. He was the second person in the group, being in second rank of seniority. I supposed Crawford and Hecate were in the same group before that, and though they still also had to sell little packets of acid, they were also responsible to keep an eye on me and Diablo.

Hecate took the bundle and counted every note in it and dumped it into a small tin container filled with money. "You, Brad, I think ya have to learn from our youngsters. I can't believe they sell more than ye do!"

Crawford was silent. He seemed to ignore the blond woman. She was complaining in some dialects that I couldn't understand. I wasn't willing to read her mind anyway. I was contented enough to have beaten Diablo in selling my merchandise.

"No, Brad," I recalled, "Hecate was bold enough to even yell at you then."

Crawford snorted but he gave no comment. The man kept on concentrating at the street. His left hand let go from the steering wheel and pushed his glasses into place, a slight sign that he was thinking or covering up something. Yes, I noticed that he often did it without purpose when he had a certain intention. He had done that too then.

The man with the pale green shirt in front of me raised his hand to his face and fixed his glasses on his nose. "I exceed the minimum limit," he insisted, "And I have other things to my concern."

"Oh, don't be such a brag, Bradley!" she took some notes and threw it right onto Crawford's face. "I know it's yer appearance that makes people distrust ya. Ye look silly with that shirt! I mean, would a drug dealer dressed in such ... solemn colors!"

"There's nothing wrong with the way I dress," Crawford stated firmly. He stood up from the floor and headed to the kitchen to get himself a cup of coffee. He still had to work on the accounting for the small group, making reports on how the business went. He really had other things to concern aside of selling the thing, he was also responsible on the way it went.

The bungalow was small and it was far from the luxurious apartment we got here in Japan. There were only two bedrooms. The smaller one was turned into some kind of office by Crawford, which also served as his bedroom. No one was allowed to enter without his permission. The bigger one had a king-sized bed that we, namely me, Diablo, and Hecate shared each night. The bathroom was sort of cramped into a small room much alike with those in student housing in Japan and the kitchen was very small.

"Come on," the woman continued, "Look at Schuldig, he's only been here for a week and he's already makin' money than ya! Ye really should change yer appearance, Brad!"

"Can I ask you a question, Brad?" I chuckled at my soon-to-be-spoken question.

"Sure."

"Was it Hecate that made you change your clothing preferences?"

He looked puzzled. "Why?"

"Don't you remember that she used to complain about the way you look? You know, those shirts and your haircut and your glasses and all?"

"Yes?"

I began to loose my patience. "So," I asked, "What's the answer?"

"No."

Mein Gott, how I hate his answers!

Crawford acted as if the woman didn't exist. He simply picked the money Hecate threw at him earlier, put them into the tin container and picked it to his room. His other hand had a cup of black coffee in it. I helped him open his bedroom door and he didn't bother to thank me at all.

"Man! What's wrong with that man?" I grumbled.

"Never mind about him, Schuldig," Diablo bragged, "He's just an Eszet dog. He'd obey whatever they told him. I think he'd better serve as an accountant rather than selling drugs!"

Hecate gave a merry laugh. "You're right, Diablo!" She rolled over the parquet covered floor. Her hand reached to the black haired and played with the flocks of bluish hair. "He's better of bein' an accountant than wastin' himself with us." She tilted her head to me, "Schuldig dear, can you pass me the bottle?" She reached her hand as I handed her a bottle of beer.

She took a gulp and continued. Her voice was lower than before, "But mind ya, Diablo, even a dog can bite the hand that feeds." She let out a shrill laugh. I was sure she was already high on alcohol. "And he's no dog, Diablo, he's a tiger. And a tiger is more fierce than a dog!"

Hecate unbuttoned Diablo's shirt seductively and the man was willing to help her. And I didn't need a second invitation when I caught Hecate winking at me. I shifted forward and started to help the woman freeing herself from her blouse. Never mind about the bed, we didn't even bother to move into the room. The living room was ours anyway. Crawford wouldn't mind as long as he still had his peace in his little room.

"Why are you smiling?" this time, to my surprise, Crawford was the first to ask.

"Nothing," I gave a short answer, feeling as if I could make a revenge for his short answers to me. The only problem was that he only nodded to my answer and continued driving in silence. Finally I just couldn't fight the urge to speak to him.

"I suddenly remembered how you always left us alone in the living room. You never joined us, didn't you?" I said, though I was sulked to see a faint smile of triumph hanging on his lips. He was mocking me!

"No," he was back into his short answer habit.

I turned my face to the street as I murmured some verbalized curses.

"Sorry," he said suddenly.

"What is this? Are you mocking me?" I grunted, still gazing to the glowing lines of street lamps from the window. Crawford would never say sorry to anyone. His pride was too high priced for some kind of apology. But I didn't hear his reply so I tilted my head towards him. His face looked grim. There was no trace of his usual sneer.

"You, Hecate, and Diablo were very close," he continued slowly.

"So?" I demanded an explanation. But just at the moment our car reached the parking lot of our apartment and I just knew that our conversation had to be stopped there. I drew out a sigh and got off the car, heading to the elevator. Both of us were silent. Crawford said nothing and his face was back into his flat expression.

- to be continued -

Gee... I hope you can understand about the time setting.... or do I have to lay-out the paragraphs once again?