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Disclaimer: I don't own Weiss or Schwarz or Love of My Life!!! I don't own anything not a thing, so it would be pointless to suie me.
Chapter 2
The thumping bass, the flashing lights, the writhing bodies all moving to some kind of drunken lust-filled beat. Crawford despised nightclubs. He'd been to a few in his time, once with Schuldich and swore to himself that he'd never return. He supposed that he'd broken his promise. Club Estrela wasn't that bad, it had an area just for people like Crawford; it had a second floor where he could sit and enjoy a bourbon and soda and gingerly sip while Schuldich flirted, grinded and writhed with the common folk. The German had tried countless times to get Crawford to come dance with him, shaking his wily orange-tinted locks and gyrating his small, black vinyl-clad hips in hopes that Crawford would follow. The American simply sat and stared, sipping his bourbon and sighing waiting for Schuldich to give up. This was a mission, not a vacation and he was here to complete the mission.
"Oh come on Crawdaddy, it's no fun without you out there," Schuldich purred into Crawford's ear. The German's honeyed voiced sending a vibration against the hair that caused Crawford to shiver. He grabbed the German and pulled him into the seat next to him, forcing Schuldich to sit down.
"This is not a vacation, Schuldich, we need to start looking for her," Crawford said with forceful disdain. Schuldich smirked.
"A drink first," Schuldich winked at the waitress, ordered a vodka-tonic and turned smirking back to Crawford.
"Do you ever relax, you're always so uptight like there's a permanent stick up your ass," Schuldich smiled slyly.
"The question holds no merit, Schuldich, it is your personal opinion," Crawford simply stated, sipping the bourbon and looking away from Schuldich over the railing to the crowd. Schuldich started to speak but his words were interrupted by both the waitress returning with his drink and the music stopping.
"What is this?" the German asked the waitress.
"That's Emotion, she sings here every week," the waitress answered taking Schuldich's money for the drink. Schuldich smiled and watched as she walked away.
"That woman was having some rather naughty thoughts about you, she and I in a threesome. You think we should take her up on the offer?" Schuldich smiled evilly.
"You need to stop doing that," Crawford said, his facial expression not changing. His concentration was on the small, dimly lit stage in front of him. A buzz in his brain caught him and he felt his heart tightened. Crawford's eyes winced and watered and he closed them trying to stop the sudden sting. He gripped his chest; it was vision. A flash of a woman in a knee-length black dress, brown skin, amber eyes, shoulder length coal-colored locks, and just like that it was over.
"A woman, how interesting?" Schuldich smiled, having clearly read the vision.
"I hate it when you do that," Crawford growled, sipping his bourbon trying to catch his breath. He hated having visions around Schuldich, the man always knew when he was having them and always read them; it was the only time when Crawford's mental shields were down and highly vulnerable. Schuldich always looked for ways to pick Crawford's brain, a Mastermind indeed.
Who is this woman, Bradkins? Schuldich purred.
The Empath I suppose. You saw the vision, you know just as much as I do Crawford seriously hated when Schuldich did that.
MMM, maybe if we find her we can let Farfarello have some fun. Or better yet, maybe we can have some fun Something about this made Crawford angry. He gave Schuldich a dangerous look.
"She belongs to Eszet, Schuldich, if you touch her the consequences will be dire." Schuldich smiled at Crawford furtively.
"Interesting," was all the German said and turned his attention to the stage in front of him.
A portly man stepped onto the stage dressed in a red pinstriped suit and a strange hat. The man had a jolly countenance and a rather boring mind, or so Schuldich thought.
"Senhoras e cavalheiro, estrela bem-vinda do clube. Nós temos um deleite real para você hoje à noite, senhora Emoção dos presentes da estrela do clube," Schuldich barely understood a word that the man said. Being fluent in Spanish he picked up every third word. Crawford however was fluent in Portuguese.
"What did he just say?" Schuldich asked.
"He welcomed us to the club and introduced the singer, Lady Emotion," Crawford stated and sipped his second bourbon and soda of the night. He hated bourbon and soda, but had become accustomed to drinking it while body guarding for Takatori. That man wanted to be American so badly it almost pained Crawford to work for him.
The lights dimmed, the crowd quieted, the sultry music began to play. A pounding bass, a psychedelic funk beat. An edgy voice almost like Billy Holiday's purred from the microphone:
"I met him when I was a
Little girl, he gave me
He gave me poetry
And he was my first
The crowd practically purred with enthusiasm. Her voice was beautiful, but the crowd couldn't quite see her face. They could make out her outline on the stage and the flowing black hair that lay on her shoulders, but not her face; it was a mystery, she was a mystery.
"But in my heart I knew I
Wasn't the only one
'Cause when the tables turned
He had to break up
Crawford felt strange; it was as if his emotions were pulling into a certain direction that he was resisting. His body felt calm, like he was resting in his mother's arms. Mellow, relaxed, content, maybe it was the bourbon that was affecting his mind. He looked over to Schuldich, the German looked as if he was about to fall asleep. The crowd was in much the same shape, swaying with the beat of the music and her honey voice; it was almost hypnotizing.
"Whenever I got lonely
Or needed some advice
He gave me his shoulder
His words were very nice"
The words to the song struck him strangely, such beautiful lyrics. It almost reminded him of Thais, the way she used to sing. Her voice had always been beautiful, when she used to sing to him. Those nights when his visions had gotten to be too much for him and he ran to her room and hopped into bed with her. It was a common practice with them, bed hopping. She was his only friend, and he loved her.
"But that is all behind me
'Cause now there is no other
My love is his and his is mine
A friend became the
Love of my life
You are my friend
Love of my life
I can depend
Love of my life
Without you, baby
It feels like a simple true love"
****
"Did you feel that?" Schuldich asked as both he and Crawford left the club. The night air was so warm and inviting and Crawford so lost in thought that he didn't even hear Schuldich question. This annoyed the German to no end.
"Crawford?" he asked again. The American once again didn't hear him. Schuldich rolled his eyes.
"Oh fearless American leader, I want you to bend me over a table and fuck me until I pass out," Schuldich purred, hoping this would get Crawford's attention. Nothing.
Crawford!!! Schuldich screamed in Crawford's mind. The American turned and looked at him.
"What?" he asked, annoyed to no end, having stopped walking.
"What has you so preoccupied that you just don't answer me when I call you?"
"You're the one that can read minds," Crawford looked away and continued his pace.
"Did you feel that back there?"
"Of course I did. That's what has me so preoccupied," Crawford sounded miffed and Schuldich sulked.
"I'll leave you to your thinking then," Schuldich merely followed the American to the back of the club trying to read his thought the whole way.
For some reason Crawford seemed to be preoccupied with the woman from his vision earlier. His mind was swirling so deeply that he didn't even notice that Schuldich had entered his mind. Schuldich probed around quietly, trying his best not to be detected by Crawford's usually heightened senses. He tiptoed with great cautions peaking into small memories trying to match them with the main thing that the man was thinking. It was like cracking open a computer, Crawford's mind. There were all sorts of codes and passwords that even Crawford kept hidden from himself; Crawford's mind was even more difficult to navigate than Farfarello's.
Finally, a small, disheveled memory: Rosenkreuz, a small girl with large hazel eyes and black hair hugging a young boy, they were obviously friends. Schuldich smiled with nostalgia; the young boy must have been a little Crawford. For some reason Crawford as a child didn't seem right. The man carried himself so sternly and erect that Schuldich imagined that he'd always been that way, grown up, cold, unfeeling. This image was a way that Schuldich had never imagined Crawford, loving, happy, and young. Schuldich wondered what made the man become the way he was.
"Schuldich," Crawford said in a way that the German knew he was in trouble.
"Ja?" the German asked.
"Get out of my mind," Crawford said it evenly and with a bit of lost emotion. Schuldich gulped deeply the lump that formed in his throat; usually when he was caught snooping around in Crawford's mind the American would give him a strict tongue-lashing or even worse, a punch in the eye. Now, Crawford seemed a bit calmer.
A rather large man with a bald head guarded the back exit of the club. He stood against the gray metal door; his large arms crossed over his massive chest and eyed both Crawford and Schuldich strangely.
"What do you want?" he asked, his English accented.
"I want to see Lady Emotion," Crawford said callously. Though the American was shorter and smaller, his confidence didn't waver; Crawford held his head higher and looked as intimidating as the bouncer. Schuldich just smirked at the scene.
"Are you one of her friends?" the bouncer asked, noticing the confident way Crawford carried himself.
"I came all the way from America to see her," Crawford answered smartly. The bouncer smiled and moved from the door allowing both Crawford and Schuldich to enter.
"Third door on the left is her dressing room," the larger man shouted after them. Crawford threw a muted merit over his shoulder and made his way down the hallway, Schuldich directly behind him.
"It's amazing how you get even the biggest men to bow before you. You are interesting indeed, Mein Führer," Schuldich rasped down the still hallway.
The third door on the left, it felt so warm, so inviting, and so right. Crawford stood with his hand poised for knocking above the wood. Schuldich watched as the American hesitated; he'd never seen any trepidation in the man before this moment. So, Crawford could be vulnerable. But Schuldich didn't understand, why was Crawford so torn? This was just another mission, just another job that they would do fore Eszet. They were slaves to that place, meant to do their bidding until death. There was no need for hesitation. They would knock on the door, enter the room, and take her back to the geriatrics just as soon as possible. Why did Crawford seem so unsure about this whole situation? The American had been edgy the whole time they'd been sent to on this mission; edgier than usual. Schuldich had been able to freely read his thoughts almost every time, and now he stifled at this very moment. This woman was the Empath, there was no doubt, and the crowd had bent to her will. There was no need for hesitation.
Schuldich, being tired of Crawford's stalling knocked on the door instead causing an ill glare from the American. There was calm, cool voice that sounded inside of the room, so crystal clear that it almost sounded like two glasses clinking together. She bid them entrance and Schuldich turned the knob slowly, allowing Crawford to enter the room first. The American made a signal that Schuldich was to stay outside, the German didn't move from his spot. The door closed behind Crawford leaving him alone with her.
She was sitting at her vanity mirror, hair in a ponytail, dressed in gray sweatpants and a white tank top. She wasn't paying any attention, only removing the makeup from her face carefully with a cotton ball. She hadn't turned around to see who'd just entered, thinking that it might be her manager or Carlos the bouncer.
"Que é ele?" she asked, her voice a bit hoarse from the performance earlier. It was her, there was no mistaking it. It was her voice and her aura. He moved to stand behind her. There was nothing but silence to her question. She moved the cotton ball from her eyes, stopping removing the eye makeup and opened her amber orbs.
His reflection was staring at her from the mirror, a memory from the past. She turned around, moving so slowly thinking that he'd disappear if she moved too quickly.
"Bradley?"