Disclaimer: Um. Yeah. I didn't create, nor do I own, these characters or this series. Due to a lack of my own originality, I'm merely borrowing it. Oh, and don't bother suing me; I have $72,000 worth of student loans. There's not much left to go around.
Onto part two!
earlier that evening....
"Hey, Manx, did you change into a traffic ticket overnight? You've got fine written all over you!" Youji flashed the red curly-top his best smile as she walked into the Kitten in a Basket. The shop was closing momentarily and for once Aya had managed to chase the fan girls out early, giving them some extra time to straighten up the rather disorderly store. Christmas was fast approaching and, as usual, there was the expected rush on poinsettias and mistletoe. The extra customers made the store even more chaotic than it normally was and by day's end it could be found bedecked with stray leaves, petals, stems, pieces of tissue paper, and ribbons, not to mention all the melted snow and slush tracked in by the plethora of boots. Currently Omi was attempting to restore some semblance of order to the remaining plants, Aya was vigorously rubbing fingerprints off display cases, and Ken was sweeping the floor. Youji, of course, was perched atop an empty table, lounging back on his elbows, making absolutely no effort to help out. It had gotten to the point where no one even expected him to. He could find no complaint to voice about that turn of events.
Manx rolled her eyes at the playboy's lame pickup line. "Flash the pearly-whites at someone who cares, Youji. Believe me when I say your goods are definitely *not* too hot to handle, *if* you know what I mean." She patted her right thigh, where Youji knew darn well that she strapped her gun. Nonplussed, he hopped off the table, pulling a package of cigarettes out of his back pocket.
"I'm takin' a smoke. Let me know when you're ready to go, Legs, *if* you know what I mean," he grinned at her as he headed out the door, fairly swaggering in his attempt to ooze testosterone. Manx merely rolled her eyes before turning her attention to the rest of the group.
They'd all paused in their cleaning and stood offering her welcoming smiles. Well, Omi and Ken did. Aya simply stood, stoic mask ever in place, awaiting her instructions. I hate to admit it, but sometimes that stare of his creeps me out, Manx thought to herself. It just seems so blank. I know there's much more behind those empty eyes than he lets on, but it's rather disconcerting to meet his gaze. It's like looking at a sculpture; blank, lifeless, and cold. To cover her discomfort she pulled a thick manila envelope out of her tote bag. "Shall we go downstairs?" she gestured towards the backdoor. "I'm certain Youji will be joining us shortly. We may as well get started."
"Do you want me to carry your bag for you, Manx-san?" Omi asked her helpfully. She smiled at his glowing face and resisted the urge to huggle him. Get a hold on yourself. What's wrong with you today? This is your job, girl! But still, Omi *was* sickeningly cute and he *did* always ask her if he could carry her bag. There wasn't anything wrong with wanting to hug an innocent kid, was there? Except that this innocent kid had killed more people than the highest-ranking general in our army, she reminded herself harshly. He is *not* your boy-next-door. "No, thank you, Omi," she replied as she always did. "I can more than handle it." And, as she always did, she headed to the backdoor and led the way down the steps to the darkened mission room.
If I had a million dollars, this is one of the first things I would change, the young woman decided, entering the claustrophobic space. Though not small in size, the gray color scheme, uneven walls, and low ceiling always made the room seem like a crypt. Or maybe a mausoleum. But then again, what better place to hand out missions of death? I guess it's only fitting. As the members of Weiss slowly trickled down the steps behind her, she headed over to the TV set, pulling a VHS cassette out of her bag as she went. Popping it into the VCR, she turned and handed out the information packets Persia had prepared for the team. "Please look these over while Youji finishes his cigarette," she requested, perching herself on the arm of the couch.
The boys were in their usual places; Ken had planted himself on the steps, an action she found rather symbolic of his attitude towards Weiss. He doesn't want to fully give himself over to this. He still has so many reservations. I can't blame him; killing is completely against his mindset. The idea of causing pain, even to save others, strays quite far from his personality type. Poor boy. His face is so open. It's obvious to any who care to see how much this is tearing him up inside. Was what we did to him really fair? But she couldn't allow herself the luxury of those thoughts. Following that track of thinking would only lead to her own demise. Doubt in your purpose was the first step on the sure path towards hesitation and mistakes. At the path's end waited only death.
The brown-haired boy seemed reluctant to open his packet, choosing instead to gauge the other member's reactions to the information before committing himself. Protecting himself from pain, however subconsciously. He'll see if any cracks appear in the other's facades. If they do, he knows it's a bad mission. That's when the struggle will begin. Should he open the folder and get involved, ultimately helping the victims, or should he choose not to act, protecting himself from the world's sickest depravity? She frowned to herself. He always makes the same choice, to help. He just can't let himself be a bystander. He honestly needs to act on behalf of the weak. His ability to feel anger for the pain doled out to others is amazing. But he must be wearing thin. I wonder how long it will be before he snaps? One true sick-o; that's all it'll take. But Manx didn't want to think about that.
Omi was plopped on one of the couches, nestled into it's enveloping cushions. He held the folder on his lap, hunched over it as he speed-read its contents. He gobbles these cases up like a starving man does food. He doesn't know any other way of life. Assassination gives him purpose, but he didn't choose to be this way. We made him like this. We took a sweet little boy and made him a killer. Or... or maybe he's so sweet because he's a killer. Maybe these missions give him an outlet for the anger he internalizes, letting him vent. Who knows? Maybe without this outlet he'd be a punk on the streets, mugging little old ladies. Maybe our using him is what's saving him. Manx attempted to soothe her conscience. Interesting how he sits on the couch, where families usually gather to spend the evening together. I suppose this is the only family he really has. At least he can count on this family not to abandon him!
That left Aya, the loner, the Greek statue come to life. The epitome of the cold-hearted killer, until you realize the driving force behind his bloodlust. He kills for money, but not for himself. His sister is his life. He is truly self-sacrificing... although I suppose that killing would be easier than prostitution, and wasn't that the only other option he really had? At least this way he maintains his pride and control over his fate; he can, after all, turn down any mission. He has his dignity and his sister has medical care. He willingly traded his life for hers. Yet he doesn't seem to be part of a team. I suppose he has good reason. He still has a life, a family. The others... they're cut free in the world. Weiss is all they have. They need to form a family unit; without that support structure, they're alone. Aya... he can afford to hold himself separate. He knows he still has his sister. At any moment she could wake up and he'd be free to just walk away with her by his side, to start a new life. The others... they don't have that luxury.
"Looking pensive today, sweet lips. Care to share the inner workings of that lovely mind?" Youji leered at her from beneath lowered brows. Manx resisted the urge to jump in startlement. If he snuck up on me like that, I *must* have been deep in thought!
"Nice of you to join us, Balinese. Feel like doing some quality reading?" she offered him his copy of the folder. He took it from her grasp, making sure their hands brushed. Moving away from him, she headed for the coffee table where two remote controls sat. "The rest have had some time to review this, but since you're late, you can look it over after the tape is through." Picking up the VCR remote, Manx hit the "play" button. With a series of whirrs, the tape flickered to a start. Persia appeared on the screen, the light playing odd angles off his face.
"White Hunters, a new threat has made itself known in the night. This is Hagus, an international criminal of some repute. Known throughout Europe for his rings of mercenary killers, recently his activities have shifted to Japan. He and his men are responsible for six deaths in recent months. White hunters of the night, hunt the tomorrows of these black beasts!"
Manx shut off the TV and turned to face the four young men. "Since his move to Japan, Hagus has shifted modes of operation. Previously his men were available for hire to any willing to pay the price. Usually their attentions were focused on petty struggles between influential families and groups. Since his change of location, however, he's shifted tactics. Though the majority of his followers remain in Europe and continue to function on a mercenary basis, Hagus has entered Japan with a small group of elite killers. We have been able to connect them to six murders within the past two months. This alone is disturbing, but the method of execution is what makes this a prevalent issue.
This was the part she really disliked. Aya's eyes will narrow, Youji's face will turn serious, Ken will look ill, and Omi will try not to cry. Why do I have to keep doing this to them? But she continued ruthlessly on.
"A number of parallels can be drawn between the victims. All were men in their mid-thirties. They were all successful in their careers and had comparable salaries. None had a criminal record or could be traced to criminal activity in any way. They were all model citizens. They were all married and had small children. When they were killed, it was always in their own homes. Five out of six times the murder was committed in the family room." This is the part that's going to make Ken gag. "At every murder, although the wife was never at home, the victim's children were in the room. The children were bound and blindfolded, then forced to listen as their father begged for his life. He would then be beheaded. The killers would then start a small blaze outside the house before making their getaway. We believe this is so authorities would arrive shortly after the murder took place, although we are not certain as to why they would want this. Your mission is to track down Hagus and his men and put a stop to their deeds."
I already know they're all going to accept. This is such a farce. "Do any of you wish to accept this mission?" Manx asked solely for the sake of ceremony. While they deliberated with themselves, she hit the VCR's eject button and returned the tape safely to her bag.
"I accept," Aya offered the words quietly before he headed upstairs, folder in his long, pale hand. He paused only briefly in his course to allow Ken to shift out of his path. She watched him go, his steps never varying, his pace even and unhurried. Even when he's moving he looks as solid as a rock.
"I can't let them keep slaughtering human beings for no reason!" Omi declared passionately from the couch. "I also accept!" His mind made up, he scurried towards the corner where his computer sat, ready and waiting, a dependable fifth member of the team. Manx knew he'd drive himself to exhaustion trying to find any leads onto the group's whereabouts. Though the youngest, he probably worked harder than any of his older counterparts.
"This... this is just sick!" Ken shuddered, then covered what he viewed as weakness with a display of temper. Jumping off the steps, he clenched his fists, crumpling his mission papers into a ball. "I can't wait to kick their ass!" he fumed before sprinting up the stairs. Not fast enough, Ken. I saw those tears in your eyes.
That left only Youji. She shifted her weight to her right leg, allowing her hip to jut out slightly, knowing very well the older man would see this as the challenge she meant it to be. "Well, Balinese. You in or not?"
The lanky man shoved his sunglasses up his forehead. "Have you ever known me to turn down a good offer?" he smoothly responded. He threw himself down on the larger couch, crossing his legs in the air and draping his arm across the back. "Care to stay for a while?"
"As much as I appreciate the offer..." Manx turned to leave, retracing her course back up to the flower shop. You cover your cares so well, Youji. You grin, flirt, and ... sleep around... but you just can't hide your good heart. You pretend you have no worries, deny to yourself that you *need* to help others. Just let yourself be, Youji. Recognize who you are and accept that. Maybe once you do, you'll have a chance with me. "Good luck, Weiss."
She exited the store to the sound of tinkling bells.