AN: Well, I thought there was too little insanity in this fic. It was all starting to make sense. Therefore, the second scene. Please don't kill me.

Also, this is a rather R rated chapter, I'm not sure what I put as the rating for this fic.

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Early evening. A red-haired man was stretched out catlike on a futon in the sparsely furnished room. A room that gave the feeling of both cleansliness and mystery. The walls were a grey that was almost white, and there were a few chairs here and there, and the futon that Aya was lying on. Large rectangular heavy tables stretched island-like across the middle of the room, occupying about 50 percent of the floor space. Around the edges was all kinds of scienific and craftsman equipment. Microscopes, dimond cutters, third-arms, and many unidentifyable electric devices, whose black cords massed beneath the table. It was dubbed 'The Workshop.'

Omi was perched in front of one of these, studying a chain of pearls. There was nothing seemingly special about these pearls. They were of medium size, and all perfectly flawless, as very expensive pearls should be. However.. Omi had, through his knowledge on these matters, noticed tht at least 3 of them were hollow. He had cut apart the string, and was inspecting the one he had under a high-power xray.

"Aya-kun, it's not working."

He sighed, and pushed his chair back from the table, cracking his neck a little, which had been getting increasingly stiff staring at the pearl under various microscopes and trying to determine how the inside had been carved out. It was perfectly seamless.

"I figure it's some kind of microchip in there...Who knows. It isn't registering as anything specific..though it has a distinctly square shape for sure.."

Aya got to his feet, and walked over. He took the pearl off the tray of the machine, and looked at it for a few seconds.

"Well."

Then he walked around the table and picked up two tools. One a metal tool with a flat end, like a screwdriver, and the other closely resembling a hammer. He balanced the pearl on the table, and with precision that indicated quite some practice, he placed the first tool on the top of the pearl, and hit it with the hammer. It split very neatly down the center. Omi observed passively, he knew that Aya knew what he was doing. Then aya took a pair of medical tweezers out of his pocket and picked up something very small, and silvery. He placed this on a microscope slide, and handed it to Omi.

"Here. It should work now."

Omi slid it under a microscope, adjusted the focus, and looked at it for a good couple of minutes.

"So?"

He looked up at Aya, seeming to be lost in thought.

"It's definetly a computer virus. High tech as hell, it's remote-triggered, and only has to be in the vicinity of the computer system it has to wipe out. Ive only read about these. I never thought there were any actually in circulation...What's Crawford playing with?"

"Hn. More then we are, obviously. We always knew he was after more then money."

Omi nodded thoughtfully.

"Yeah, well, its probably better off in our hands anyways. As long as it doesn't get back to us. That Hidaka guy is dead anyways, and there were no other witnesses, so it should be fine."

"Mm. Don't get too comfortable."

**

It was midnight. The stars overhead burned with a passion that broke through the pollution of the city, that marked their dominance over the soot black sky. He stood in the middle of a plane, alone. Walls of bars, like a prision, rose up solidary, around him, and out to the distance. He could hear whispers, hinted on the wind, and ran to catch them. The space between the walls of bars widened as he ran further. He stopped to catch his breath, when he noticed blood on his hands. No..Not blood, but red stains, that wouldn't smear when he tried to rub them off on the sides of his jeans. He started to panic.

"Don't worry, the dead don't really mind. It's nicer there anyways."

A smooth, feminine voice, that sent a little tremor though him. It was preditorial, that tone, something to respect, or at least be wary of. He looked up. She was sitting on the ground, in a black dress whose black silk gathers spilled onto the floor around her, fully. If she had been standing it probably would have been a train. She was wearing long black evening gloves, also silk, with white bandages peeking out over the tops. Her face was as capturing as it was the first time Ken had seen her, on the water out in back of Schwarz headquarters. Scars criscrossing the pale skin, and that black eyepatch adding an air of things hidden. Her silvery-white hair was shoulder length, and she was young..couldn't have been more then 20.

"Francine, what are you doing here?"

"Does it matter Kenken?"

A smirk on those pale lips as the nickname rolled off of them, condescending.

"Come over here.."

She held up her hands to him, and he walked over, slowly. He knew that he shouldn't, but he took her hands anyways, and istead of allowing him to pull her to her feet, like Ken was expecting, she pulled him down, to her level. He crouched.

"Why don't you give up now? You arent going to win this battle. Just like you didn't win the war."

She smiled and licked the blood off of his index finger. It was smearing now, more then just red stains, and syrupy and thick like he remembered blood being. He shivered. She kissed him. A rough kiss, both playful and passionate. And also impersonal, like she didn't particularly see him as a person. Like maybe she didn't really see him at all. He tasted the coppery blood on her lips, and found himself kissing her back, though he himself didn't quite know the reason.

A tug at the strand of pearls he just remembered that he was wearing, and it broke, sending the milky orbs clattering and bouncing to the smooth floor. He broke the kiss, and looked at her, a little shocked.

"Why..?"

"Shh."

One of the pearls bounced off of a metal bar, and rolled to a stop, in front of Ken. It was iradescent, and almost glowing if looked at from the right angle. He looked back at Francine, who was removing her gloves. The bandages were stark white, and stood out like the pearls did, strangely illuminated despite the darkness. Then she stood, and started to unbutton her dress, down the front, letting it slide down her body in a rustle of silk, completely exposing most of her pale skin, except for the lighter shades of the bandages that were wrapped around her stomach and one around her upper thigh.

Ken stared. He couldn't help it. She did have a nice body. That was without the scars. With them, and there were quite a few, she was simply unique. Not repulsive, as one might think from a description, because really, beneath it she had one been exquisitely beautiful.

"What..happened to you? I mean the scars..."

"My religion. I did them myself. Don't you like them?"

She tilted her head to one side, grinning.

"Didn't it hurt?"

"No. Pain is only in your mind."

He thought about this, and she walked over to him, and crouched down in front of him, running her fingers through his hair, then climbing onto his lap. Ken didn't blush, but he really would have. He wasn't used to assertive women. So he was sort of shocked into submission as the layers of dark clothing he was wearing fell away. He suddenly noticed how cold he was, and wondered when the tempature had dropped. He shivered again, partly from that, and partly from the way Francine was touching him.

He closed his eyes. It was rather wrong, this union, if it could be called such. Brad had told him that she was with him..But it didn't make much sense. He resented that anyways, for a strange reason. Someone else being with Brad, that is. He felt a little too possessive of the man to ever be comfortable with that. Not that he had a valid claim. He thought about this for as long as his thoughts could remain coherent, before a hot need took him, and he found himself making love to Francine, in the middle of a starry, deserted, caged lanscape. In some night that was missing from the monotonous line of other cold nights dotting his memory.

*

Ken opened his eyes. And then he immediately wished he hadn't. Pain flared in his head, causing him to wince. Worse then any headache he had ever had. And all his joints were stiff, as if sitting in one position for much too long. He opened his eyes again, very slowly. Stars. Muted, cold, distant stars. Cold. He remembered bright stars, a woman...Oh shit. Francine. His hands went almost instictively to his neck. The pearls were gone. He sat up a little more, and hesitantly looked through the darkness to his surroundings, half expecting cages and smooth marble floor. He breathed a sigh of relief as he recognized the alley.

The pearls were still gone, and his mind refused to accept this, because it couldn't really be rationalized. He would panic. And that's not what he needed...he needed to get back home. He figured Brad would be back at his apartment, inexplicably. It seemed right, logical. He remembered then, why he had ended up on the ground unconscious in the first place. Tranquilizer dart. And a very sore place on the back of his neck which he didn't even try to touch, he knew it would hurt too much. He should probably see a doctor...

He rose to his feet, slowly, painfully. Driven towards safety. With a little warm light of hope inside of him, sparked by what was really a near-death experience. He was alive. He could walk back to his apartment. Brad would take care of everything else. Thats what he repeated to himself, as he simply put one foot in front of the other.

*

Earlier that same evening.

Youji sighed, and scanned the room one more time. Damn. They always slipped through his fingers. He was standing in the middle of the last Workshop of Omi and Aya's. It was cleared out, except a few folding tables, and a lone microscope. Nothing suspicious. However, he had used his inside contacts to pinpoint this location. They were always quiet about where they stayed, and moved constantly. It was an almost impossible-to-win situation. They were so smart, and they had the edge of unpredictability. Youji found patterns, yes, but they were useless. These kinds of criminals were never tracked by the law. They had their own justice delivered to them, by the mafia circles and such. Police just didn't tangle themselves up in that.

Well. Now it was nessessary. A jail break was their buisness, and he was going to catch him. And White, the real one. It would be good for his career, but that wasn't the only reason he cared. The place would be fingerprinted. They would find the young man's prints on everything. Unfortunately, he had somehow removed himself from public records. The prints didn't match any person's ever recorded onto the system. No, that would be too easy.

He walked out, onto the cool streets. The evenings were more chilly these days. Winter was approaching. He rummaged in the pockets of the trenchcoat he was wearing over casual clothing, and found a cell phone. Checked the time. Only 6:30. The night was young, and he needed some companionship to take his mind off of this damn case. He scanned his mental database of women's phone numbers. Crossed off a few, he had a few arguments recently.

Ah, there. A girl's face came to mind. Short blue hair, a waitress, if he could remember correctly. He met her over breakfast once, at a small diner, with sunlight streaming in the large windows. She had a pretty smile, and had given him her number. Her name had been Asuka-something. They met once after that, a short meeting over some ice cream, which unfortunately was cut short by a call to work. He had never gotten back to her, but he was the sort that people remembered. She would know him when he called, even though it had probably been a fe months. Maybe she would be free tonight...

He dialed her number. It rang four times, and then she picked up.

"Hello?"

"Hey. Been a while, Asuka."

"Who is this?"

"Youji Kudou. We met a while ago.."

"Oh, Youji, right.."

He could hear her become a little flustered on the other end of the phone line. He smiled.

"Sorry for not calling, I really meant to, but...you know how it is."

"Mm..so what's the occasion?"



"I was going out tonight, and I don't have a date. It's just such a shame, and if you were free tonight... Well you might just be able to save me."

She laughed a little, a light laughter. She did like him quite a bit, and the offer was so spontneous that it was powerfully tempting. She had an engagement tonight, but it wasn't very promising, and it wasn't every day you got called up by a guy like Youji. Such a charmer..

"Well, all right. I don't have anything planned, really.."

"Good! Where do you live again? I can pick you up at 7:30, if that's all right with you.."

"Ah, that's fine.."

He grabbed a pen and wrote the address down on the back of a recipt from somewhere, as she recited it.

"Thanks."

"Oh, anou.. Where are we going? So I know what to wear.."

Youji hadn't really thought about it. So he paused for a few moments.

"Does clubbing sound good? Its been a while since I had a really nice dance partner.."

She smiled, flattered that he thought she would be a good dancer. Well, she was, but... Hm, did she even have anything to wear? She panicked.

"Yeah, that would be great..7:30, right?"

"Right. See you then."

She said goodbye and hung up, a little rush of elation running through her. She felt light-headed as she ran into the other room to get dressed, then back a few moments later, realizing she had forgotten to call her agent back. She was an aspiring actress, working day jobs at resturants and diners, and auditioning for whatever she got a chance to in her free time. She hadn't had much luck, though she was very pretty, and more then decently talented. But that was show buisness, and she would keep trying. And tonight, she would just have fun. Without thoughts of what lie ahead of her.

*

6:50

Youji was almost home, having taken various subways and trains back into the city. He lived by himself in a small house in a not-so-crowded suburban neighborhood. Not to say anwhere was particularily spacious, this was Japan, after all, and post-war at that. But it was relatively nice. At least it wasn't an apartment. He was traversing the dim streets when someone on the other side of the street caught his attetion as out of place. Youji was an expert when it came to suspicious characters, and this guy was obviously up to some kind of trouble.

He stood across the street from the policeman, hands in his pockets, standing on the opposite sidewalk, looking openly at Youji with peircing, amused green eyes. His hair was a vibrant, tousled orange, and he was dressed smartly in a double breasted blazer and grey slacks. On a second look, his apprearance was a bit messy, though immaculately so, as if planned. A yellow bandanna was tied around his forehead, and he was wearing dark pink sunglasses on top of his head.

Bingo. Schuldig smirked. He didn't know what exactly it was that Crawford had forseen when he told him to go take a walk. He must have known something along these lines. The man was an extremely interesting case study. Schuldig allowed himself to soak in the man's thoughts for a few moments. On the way to a nice date, lovely. Devoting most of his time to obsessing over the framing of that lousy kid jewel thief, and trying to find Crawford...amusing. He would play with him a little before letting him go again.

AN: Wow, look at that. Straight sex. Whew, a first for me! In any fic ^.^ That's so sad. I need a life. And I also need more reviews. Thank you Misura, you're a goddess. I really appreciate that someone cares enough to follow the story chapter-by-chapter... And of course, Jimmy. But you already know that, and I force you to review, so nyah. And everyone else! Sank you. And gimme more reviews! ::makes her happy:: ^.^ Ja, I'll be working on the next chapter.