Disclaimer: Weiss Kreuz is the sole property of Project Weiss and
(Tsuchiya?) Kyoko. All names and referrals to past episodes mentioned in
this fanfiction are copyright the production. Any original characters and
events are the property of the author.
Stained Pages Chapter 1- Prologue Ai Li
The sound of water was driving him crazy. Drip drip drip, it fell. The fountain next to him was leaking.
Somewhere in the building, a man coughed.
The sound was too scratchy.
The air conditioner gave a great bang and startled him. He sat up straight and glared as the machine settled into a rhythmic hum.
The noise would kill him.
He could feel it now, insanity creeping into his mind while the small room chirped and thrummed around him. How could people live with such infuriating sound? It was all so.normal. So drab and dreary, the sameness was.
And the walls. Muted gray with darker colours running in up-and-down stripes to form a very businesslike, formal wallpaper. Stripped of life. Schuldich desperately longed for vibrant hues and leather couches with loud, pulsing music in the background. As it was, his head was the only thing pulsing here, throbbing with a headache born of too many hours sitting and extreme boredom.
He leaned back in the rigid plastic chair, wincing as he stretched his arms and felt tired muscles protest the movement. God, how long had he been in this stupid office? He raised his arm as if meaning to check a watch, but then he remembered he had lost his in the nightclub last night.
The man coughed again.
What was left of his patience snapped in a sudden burst of energy and Schuldich stood to his full height of just under six feet. Angrily, he kicked over the chair before delivering a swift knock to the water fountain with his elbow. The window behind him was obviously not meant to be open, but Schuldich was too hot and annoyed to care. He yanked off the lock and shoved the bar upwards, sticking his head out and taking deep breaths of real air. The city was so small beneath him, and he yearned to be out among the busy throng of people on their lunch break, impatient like he was and full of nasty thoughts about their employers.
He could feel several someones approaching the office, two eager little minds and one smooth wall of blankness. Crawford and Haori-san, but who was the third man? Schuldich closed the window and set the chair upright, sighing as the last traces of oxygen disappeared and he was once more caught in the net of industrial life.
The door opened and one of Crawford's polished black shoes entered, followed by the rest of the American man and a small Japanese man behind him. Last to enter was a rather tall, friendly-looking Chinese man with oddly blue eyes. Crawford met Schuldich's eyes and inclined his head every so slightly. The latter smirked and took his seat.
"Cloffordo-san, do you need to run this by your partners?" asked Haori. Crawford shook his head in the negative, and Schuldich couldn't help but roll his eyes at the expected answer.
Haori-san was all smiles and excited quivering, rummaging around in his pockets for a pen so he could sign the papers Crawford held out to him.
(Tough sell, eh?)
(Farfarello will not be needed for this mission.)
(Too bad. You know how he loves rich morons.)
The taller man took the pen from his companion and signed his name below Haori-san's. As Crawford begin to sign his own name, Schuldich craned his head to see what the unknown man had written.
Yim Kuai Le.
Perhaps not Japanese after all.
The redheaded German raised his eyes to look at Crawford, asking a silent question.
(Dare ka?)
Crawford simply stared back at him, choosing not to answer. Schuldich blew a sigh of irritation and waited for the men to close the deal. Haori-san shook Crawford's hand, and then the Chinese man did the same. Crawford signaled to Schuldich and the two assassins left the office.
~*~*
Buildings blurred together in Schuldich's gaze as the sleek black town car sped along the Tokyo streets. The ride from the office had been silent so far, with Crawford seeming pleased about this newest job and Schuldich just relieved to be out of the stuffy surroundings.
After about 15 minutes, the 20-year old was once again bored. He fiddled with the a/c vents and adjusted his seat to lean back and then up again, repeating this action several times until Crawford was properly annoyed.
"Must you do that while I'm driving?" Schuldich grinned impudently and put the seat back in its original position. "Yes."
Crawford frowned slightly and made a U-vie, his good mood evaporating. "This is the last time I bring you to the business district."
"I didn't want to come in the first place," Schuldich pointed out as he turned the a/c up. "Besides," he added, "you should have known beforehand that it would have taken so long."
"I didn't see the second man coming into the deal at all. If he hadn't added his input, I would have won Haori over in three minutes."
Schuldich reclined the chair and stared at the roof of the car for several minutes before voicing his question from earlier. "Who was he, anyways?"
Left turn into the upper-class streets. "A foreign executive from Hong Kong; he was flown in for the party and the planning."
"Why did he have so much to discuss?"
Crawford lifted his eyebrow and parallel parked outside their apartment. "Because unlike Haori-san, Yim actually had scraps of intelligence."
The front door of the apartment opened and a small brown head peeked out. Seeing the two older men, it whisked itself back inside and left the door ajar. Schuldich stepped inside the foyer and kicked off his shoes, flinging himself onto the couch and grabbing the t.v. remote. Crawford poured himself a drink from the cabinet and retreated inside his office, making sure to firmly shut and lock the door behind him.
Footsteps on the staircase alerted Schuldich to the presence of a teenage boy behind him. The redhead nodded his head in greeting before turning his attention back to the old American movie playing out on the screen. The boy took a seat on the white couch opposite Schuldich.
Naoe Nagi wasn't like his three teammates. With dark pixie features, he looked to be 10 years old when in fact he was already a legal Japanese citizen. Perhaps legal was the wrong term for the telekinetic youth, but he was indeed 18 years of age and the law didn't really matter for Nagi; by age 13 he had already killed, and by age 15 he was no more innocent than the most hardened criminal Tokyo had to offer. Crawford was good to him in his unique way, and Farfarello mostly left him alone, but Schuldich loved to single the boy out for teasing and amuse himself with Nagi's thoughts.
Schuldich was easily amused. Nagi wasn't the only one to bear the German's mental torment, however, and usually his victims were those that he deemed most interesting to read. Burnt red hair offset his lazy green eyes, and he often drew stares when he went out into the public. Even amongst the brightly and unnaturally-colored youth of Japan's major cities, Schuldich was always the one to draw curious attention. His manner resembled that of a saturnine jungle cat; lean and languid with dangerous cunning and a lust for blood that almost matched the third and certainly most odd member of Schwartz:
The giftless Farfarello. Albino pale with one gold eye and one covered by a black eyepatch, the scarred Irishman mainly kept to himself and his inane rantings of right and religion. His fellow teammates had him carefully ensconced in a straitjacket for the better part of the day, situated in a bloodstained cell with a handful of knives and a bolt-iron door. When his limbs were free and his mind was troubled, he spent hours inside that room, knicking away at his skin and watching the blood pour out with fascination. Easily the most dangerous of all four members, Farfarello gave an impression of insanity that could fool the most awarded psychologists and the best trained authorities.
Together, with their American oracle Brad Crawford, these four young men made up the bodyguard cum assassin team Schwartz.
Deadly in their gifts and experts at their jobs, they shielded power with illusion and gave new meaning to fear. On the pages of history, they are dark stains of life.
This is their story.
Stained Pages Chapter 1- Prologue Ai Li
The sound of water was driving him crazy. Drip drip drip, it fell. The fountain next to him was leaking.
Somewhere in the building, a man coughed.
The sound was too scratchy.
The air conditioner gave a great bang and startled him. He sat up straight and glared as the machine settled into a rhythmic hum.
The noise would kill him.
He could feel it now, insanity creeping into his mind while the small room chirped and thrummed around him. How could people live with such infuriating sound? It was all so.normal. So drab and dreary, the sameness was.
And the walls. Muted gray with darker colours running in up-and-down stripes to form a very businesslike, formal wallpaper. Stripped of life. Schuldich desperately longed for vibrant hues and leather couches with loud, pulsing music in the background. As it was, his head was the only thing pulsing here, throbbing with a headache born of too many hours sitting and extreme boredom.
He leaned back in the rigid plastic chair, wincing as he stretched his arms and felt tired muscles protest the movement. God, how long had he been in this stupid office? He raised his arm as if meaning to check a watch, but then he remembered he had lost his in the nightclub last night.
The man coughed again.
What was left of his patience snapped in a sudden burst of energy and Schuldich stood to his full height of just under six feet. Angrily, he kicked over the chair before delivering a swift knock to the water fountain with his elbow. The window behind him was obviously not meant to be open, but Schuldich was too hot and annoyed to care. He yanked off the lock and shoved the bar upwards, sticking his head out and taking deep breaths of real air. The city was so small beneath him, and he yearned to be out among the busy throng of people on their lunch break, impatient like he was and full of nasty thoughts about their employers.
He could feel several someones approaching the office, two eager little minds and one smooth wall of blankness. Crawford and Haori-san, but who was the third man? Schuldich closed the window and set the chair upright, sighing as the last traces of oxygen disappeared and he was once more caught in the net of industrial life.
The door opened and one of Crawford's polished black shoes entered, followed by the rest of the American man and a small Japanese man behind him. Last to enter was a rather tall, friendly-looking Chinese man with oddly blue eyes. Crawford met Schuldich's eyes and inclined his head every so slightly. The latter smirked and took his seat.
"Cloffordo-san, do you need to run this by your partners?" asked Haori. Crawford shook his head in the negative, and Schuldich couldn't help but roll his eyes at the expected answer.
Haori-san was all smiles and excited quivering, rummaging around in his pockets for a pen so he could sign the papers Crawford held out to him.
(Tough sell, eh?)
(Farfarello will not be needed for this mission.)
(Too bad. You know how he loves rich morons.)
The taller man took the pen from his companion and signed his name below Haori-san's. As Crawford begin to sign his own name, Schuldich craned his head to see what the unknown man had written.
Yim Kuai Le.
Perhaps not Japanese after all.
The redheaded German raised his eyes to look at Crawford, asking a silent question.
(Dare ka?)
Crawford simply stared back at him, choosing not to answer. Schuldich blew a sigh of irritation and waited for the men to close the deal. Haori-san shook Crawford's hand, and then the Chinese man did the same. Crawford signaled to Schuldich and the two assassins left the office.
~*~*
Buildings blurred together in Schuldich's gaze as the sleek black town car sped along the Tokyo streets. The ride from the office had been silent so far, with Crawford seeming pleased about this newest job and Schuldich just relieved to be out of the stuffy surroundings.
After about 15 minutes, the 20-year old was once again bored. He fiddled with the a/c vents and adjusted his seat to lean back and then up again, repeating this action several times until Crawford was properly annoyed.
"Must you do that while I'm driving?" Schuldich grinned impudently and put the seat back in its original position. "Yes."
Crawford frowned slightly and made a U-vie, his good mood evaporating. "This is the last time I bring you to the business district."
"I didn't want to come in the first place," Schuldich pointed out as he turned the a/c up. "Besides," he added, "you should have known beforehand that it would have taken so long."
"I didn't see the second man coming into the deal at all. If he hadn't added his input, I would have won Haori over in three minutes."
Schuldich reclined the chair and stared at the roof of the car for several minutes before voicing his question from earlier. "Who was he, anyways?"
Left turn into the upper-class streets. "A foreign executive from Hong Kong; he was flown in for the party and the planning."
"Why did he have so much to discuss?"
Crawford lifted his eyebrow and parallel parked outside their apartment. "Because unlike Haori-san, Yim actually had scraps of intelligence."
The front door of the apartment opened and a small brown head peeked out. Seeing the two older men, it whisked itself back inside and left the door ajar. Schuldich stepped inside the foyer and kicked off his shoes, flinging himself onto the couch and grabbing the t.v. remote. Crawford poured himself a drink from the cabinet and retreated inside his office, making sure to firmly shut and lock the door behind him.
Footsteps on the staircase alerted Schuldich to the presence of a teenage boy behind him. The redhead nodded his head in greeting before turning his attention back to the old American movie playing out on the screen. The boy took a seat on the white couch opposite Schuldich.
Naoe Nagi wasn't like his three teammates. With dark pixie features, he looked to be 10 years old when in fact he was already a legal Japanese citizen. Perhaps legal was the wrong term for the telekinetic youth, but he was indeed 18 years of age and the law didn't really matter for Nagi; by age 13 he had already killed, and by age 15 he was no more innocent than the most hardened criminal Tokyo had to offer. Crawford was good to him in his unique way, and Farfarello mostly left him alone, but Schuldich loved to single the boy out for teasing and amuse himself with Nagi's thoughts.
Schuldich was easily amused. Nagi wasn't the only one to bear the German's mental torment, however, and usually his victims were those that he deemed most interesting to read. Burnt red hair offset his lazy green eyes, and he often drew stares when he went out into the public. Even amongst the brightly and unnaturally-colored youth of Japan's major cities, Schuldich was always the one to draw curious attention. His manner resembled that of a saturnine jungle cat; lean and languid with dangerous cunning and a lust for blood that almost matched the third and certainly most odd member of Schwartz:
The giftless Farfarello. Albino pale with one gold eye and one covered by a black eyepatch, the scarred Irishman mainly kept to himself and his inane rantings of right and religion. His fellow teammates had him carefully ensconced in a straitjacket for the better part of the day, situated in a bloodstained cell with a handful of knives and a bolt-iron door. When his limbs were free and his mind was troubled, he spent hours inside that room, knicking away at his skin and watching the blood pour out with fascination. Easily the most dangerous of all four members, Farfarello gave an impression of insanity that could fool the most awarded psychologists and the best trained authorities.
Together, with their American oracle Brad Crawford, these four young men made up the bodyguard cum assassin team Schwartz.
Deadly in their gifts and experts at their jobs, they shielded power with illusion and gave new meaning to fear. On the pages of history, they are dark stains of life.
This is their story.