Disclaimer: They make us write disclaimers just to torture
us, don't they? To make me admit that I don't own the series or any of
the characters…*sob* my fantasies are now thoroughly destroyed.
Mall Mishaps
"Absolutely adorable!"
Brad Crawford looked up in surprise. "Adorable?"
"Adorable!" Schuldich confirmed, purring at the mirror in a random clothing shop.
"Hardly," the American commented cynically, "although it's an improvement from the green coat."
"I liked the green coat! In fact, I think I'll keep that one instead," he added, discarding the red jacket that was so 'adorable' a minute ago.
"Let's gooooo…" Nagi whined from somewhere behind the Oracle. "This place is so boring! Why'd you make all of us come, anyway?" The telekinetic had been suppressing his boredom all morning, managing to amuse himself by making random objects move from their regular places and thus wreaking havoc on the sanity of the storeowners. However, his games were becoming old and stale, and his impatience was beginning to show.
"As I've said many times already," Crawford answered calmly. "Do not question my orders." He didn't want to say that he didn't exactly trust the three, alone, in his apartment, with his expensive furniture and belongings. Even thought saying it would be cruel and very Crawford-like. The American turned his back on the younger Japanese boy to hide his grin at the thought.
And found Schu staring directly into his eyes, only inches from his face.
"My God!" Brad cried out, very un-Brad-like. Farfarello looked up from sharpening his knife and glared menacingly.
Instantly regaining his perfectly calm façade, he calmly demanded, " Stop that. What are you doing?"
"Well," the German replied with his trademark evil grin, "I wanted your opinion! How about these sunglasses?"
"I don't care!" 'Although they are very nice', Crawford thought. Then, 'Of course they are!' he scoffed in his mind, 'Mastermind can make anything look good.' Suddenly, the Oracle came upon a realization. 'STOP MESSING WITH MY MIND, SCHULDICH!' He didn't say it out loud, his prophetic power came in just in time. Everyone in the store would have looked at him strangely, and being thought to be insane was very un-Brad-like.
The Mastermind heard the American's mental exclamation and could sense his rage. He continued to grin evilly at Crawford, and the Oracle glared back.
Nagi watched the exchange curiously, smiling to himself.
Farfarello went back to sharpening his knife.
oOo 15 minutes later… oOo
Farfarello sat in a booth at the mall's resident ice cream shop finishing the last bite of a dish of chocolate ice cream using, yes, his newly sharpened knife. Naoe Nagi sat across from him, by now accustomed to the irregularities of Schwarz. In front of the Japanese was an empty dish that recently had held three scoops of mint-chocolate chip ice cream. Smiling smugly, Nagi turned his attention to the unfinished banana split of the red-haired German…
"Stop even thinking of it, Naoe," Schuldich warned menacingly, protectively moving his ice cream further away from the telekinetic.
"Fine," Nagi pouted sullenly. Turning his attention elsewhere, he spotted Crawford's—
"Not going to happen!" The precognitive looked up sharply from his newspaper.
So Nagi left Crawford's ice cream alone, too. However, he did consider warping the Oracle's spoon into some strange, difficult-to-eat-with shape. Or, possibly, knocking over his coffee in a direction that would cause it to spill all over the expensive, meticulously clean, expensive, white, and (did I mention?) expensive business suit of the Schwarz leader.
Schu snickered, the trademark evil grin plastered across his face.
Why Crawford was eating ice cream and drinking coffee at the same time, the world may never know…
oOo 31 minutes and 24.69 seconds later… oOo
"Here, we need to go here." Oracle led the group of three into a bookstore. They had lost Farfarello some time back to a cutlery shop. All the shiny silver chopping knives and steak knives and slicing knives and dicing knives and yes, even butter knives had apparently been too much for the Irishman to resist (After all, butter knives can be sharpened, ne?).
Anyway, the three remaining members of Schwarz split up to go their separate ways.
Naoe Nagi found several books he wanted and walked up to the cash register. Behind him came Brad, his highly reflective glasses…um…reflecting…the lights overhead and lending him a mysterious, evil aura. Both paid using Brad's credit card, and left with their merchandise to go find Schu.
They found him sitting in one of those comfy-looking armchairs at the end of an aisle, deeply engrossed in a thick novel.
'Shut up, I didn't ask your opinion!' The Mastermind shouted mentally. 'I'm enjoying this book, so there! And Crawford, stop calling me a stupid, uneducated idiot!'
Crawford glared and stalked off. Nagi stood for a moment, taking in the recent mental conversation. Then he just couldn't help it anymore, he broke out laughing.
Everyone in the previously quiet bookstore glared. Schuldich glared hardest, barely resisting the urge to kick the boy as he rolled past on the ground, clutching his stomach.
Mastermind thought about it a moment, decided that there really was no good reason to resist, and kicked the telekinetic, hard, in the head.
"HAHAHAHEEHEEHA…OUCH!…HAHAHAHAHAAA!"
Schuldich glared some more, gave it up as a lost effort, and stormed after Crawford.
oOo 0 minutes and 0 seconds later (according to a broken watch found in a gutter somewhere)… oOo
The mall's intercom system crackled for a moment, then came on loudly and clearly: "MR. CRAWFORD, PLEASE REPORT TO SECURITY, LOCATED AT THE WEST ENTRANCE! YOUR PARTY IS WAITING. MR. CRAWFORD, PLEASE REPORT TO SECURITY!"
Crawford heard the voice over the intercom, as did everyone else, and almost banged his head against the wall in fury and exasperation. Almost. He caught himself just in time.
Then he hurried off towards the west entrance before they got it in their heads to call him again.
oOo A random amount of time later… oOo
"I didn't do anything, I swear!"
The oracle could hear his red-headed co-worker pleading from the other side of the door in front of him labeled 'SECURITY' in shiny gold letters. He sighed in frustration and went in.
Schuldich was standing in the middle of the TV-screen-lined room, restrained by a dozen and a half security guards sporting donuts.
"Let me go! I didn't do it!!!" he looked up as the door opened. "……Bradley!"
Crawford winced visibly at the use of his first name so casually. The day's events were definitely starting to wear on him…hell, there was no 'starting' about it. His nerves were frayed to the breaking point.
"Bradley! Tell them to let me go! Tell them I didn't do it!!"
He couldn't take this much longer. The security guards were staring at him funny-like, donut crumbs lining many of their mouths. A room full of dark eyes, dark uniforms, and one spot of bright glistening orange-red that was the major stress of his life…
"That's it! Where's Naoe?!"
"Dunno, but Berserker's in the next room over. He tried to duct-tape some kid to a vending machine. Kind of amusing if you ask me, but the fluff didn't seem to like it…" Schuldich laughed as the security guards watched the conversation with blank expressions and donut crumbs.
"That would be 'fuzz', Schuldich, not 'fluff'," Crawford corrected irritably. He went through all his calming techniques in his head, partially restoring his sanity. Yes, it seemed to be working. His breathing slowed back down, his heart rate and blood pressure lowered a level—
"Yeah, that would normally be correct," Mastermind debated, "but they aren't police officers, they're security guards. So I thought that 'fluff' would be more appropriate, y'know?"
"Schuldich," Brad stated through gritted teeth, blood pressure rising off the charts. "Just. Shut. Up."
"…" Schuldich said, whether or not that can actually be considered as saying something. It was the first time in a loooonnng time that the Mastermind had been speechless. Then, finally, after a prolonged moment of silence but for the sound of donuts being munched: "Bradley?…Brad?…Are you dying?!"
And sure enough, the American's face had turned a bright shade of reddish-purple.
"…BRADLEY'S DYING!!!!!!"
'Bradley' stormed from the room. A moment later, several gunshots could be heard.
Luckily, no one was in that corridor of the mall at the time. Except for one brown-haired Japanese telepath, who had started over when he heard the intercom message for the Oracle.
"AAAAIIIIIEEEEEEEEE!!!! CRAWFORD, ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL ME???! IF I DIE BECAUSE OF THIS, I'M SUING!!"
Crawford blinked once, apparently coming out of some sort of reverie. Gunshots always did have a calming effect on him, after all. He looked questioningly at Nagi, who was pressed stiffly against the opposite side of the corridor. The wall around the telekinetic was riddled with small, black holes. "How can you sue when you're dead?" Crawford asked calmly, his reflective glasses looking mysterious and ultimately evil once more.
Dual crashes were heard as Mastermind and Berserker broke out of the security rooms, trailing security guards and donuts.
Nagi, expression still echoing trauma, psychically threw
open the doors for the two escapees, and followed in a mad dash for the
car. Crawford, seeing mental images of his three co-workers taking his
car and thus stranding him here in this accursed place, ran after them.
End of Part One.
Note of the Authoress: Please, please review! Comments, suggestions, constructive criticism (I greatly appreciate any constructive criticism and/or writing tips!), whatever you want to send! Even flames!! If I get reviews, I might be inspired to write another chapter or a sequel! Anyway, thanks for reading, I hope you got some sort of enjoyment from this! ~~Secera~~