Sinking Into Pools of Mocha 3
Liebling = sweetheart
****
Makoto sat up from her bed when she felt the sun's rays burn the side of her face through the thin layers of the closed curtains. Looked like it was morning already. Or more precisely it was 10AM, as her alarm clock said in large, black lettering. She came back from the hospital at around 1 o'clock and didn't do anything but fall on the bed to sleep for the rest of the cold night. What went on last night felt like a truly believable dream…only it wasn't something connected to the dreamland. The fights that she encountered last night were real.
The sight of blood was indeed real, as her previous clothes showed with the pretty crimson stains and tears in the material. The bruises on her cheek were also evidence of the events that took place a few hours ago. Dammit She clutched her face when her mind said the words 'cheek' and 'bruise.' A reminiscence of the pain she had had to combat for many hours was returning spontaneously and it was mainly coming from both her cheeks. Those punches Makoto got from last night's foes were unforgettable. She hadn't felt this much soreness in a *long* time. The losers she had been put against during her shift weren't always as strong as she was. It seemed like years rather than a few months since she had a decent fight; one that had nothing to do with monsters from another world.
Makoto headed towards the bathroom to run hot water in the sink. Who needed to do morning exercise when she had already had a special workout last night? Normally when it came to morning push-ups and Karate practice she would end up with stretched yet relaxed arm muscles. But her muscles didn't need to be stretched today. Not from the tough brawl she had just had. Did she have to thank those guys for giving her a great workout? How ridiculous. True she let off some steam but there was no point in thanking someone for nearly taking her life away. Was that even necessary?
Or was it necessary to say thanks for letting her live instead? Makoto's mind was at a blank spot when she thought about that query. Pulling her long auburn curls into the usual ponytail, she dipped her pale face into the hot water, drowning her curiosity and confusion within the clear fluid. As her eyes closed, her ears started to play back the sound of her voice yelling in pain each time she took in those mighty punches and when she was thrown into the phone box. Her back began to flash in pain once she pictured herself crashing into the glass and feeling the sharp ends scrape her lower back.
Who would have thought that leftover from a fight could be this repetitive? It was driving her mad. It was irritating! A hint of anger suddenly flew into her thoughts and forced Makoto to take her face out of the hot water. Surely she got enough sleep and wasn't losing her mind, was she? Makoto assumed she could take as long as she needed to fight that knifeman last night. But it never occurred to her that someone she met from the past would also be involved with this crazy dude. She thought this Brad guy was a nice man. Just a kind college graduate who had a thing for caffeine. But she knew that was all a joke. He must have had a change of heart and went into crime or something.
What was with the change in being called by his surname then? Had he got a job that boosted his arrogance? Maybe that was the case. Only really top businessmen would command their employees to call them Mr so and so. Perhaps that was the case with *Mr* Crawford.
"Brad…Crawford," Makoto repeated slowly. Come to think of it, the full name sounded strangely fitting when you put the two words together. Oh god why did she just say that? Why the HELL was she complimenting this man's NAME? She barely knew him. If this friendly coffee man was part of an act or was a past phase then what was the real Crawford like? Was he as ruthless as he stated himself to be?
If he was a criminal to begin with then boy he fooled Makoto well five years ago. He really did. Though, despite being deceived by a handsome face, Makoto had to admit the guy looked rather classy in that cream business suit. Apart from the fact it made him slightly older by a few years, he looked like a man of power (and maybe wealth). It wouldn't have surprised her at all if he did turn out to be a rich tycoon who owned a huge company abroad. The fact that he wasn't Japanese was something Makoto didn't easily forget since they first met each other. Quite a lot of overseas students had been coming over to Japan and proved they could master her native language. Crawford was one of them.
Makoto watched the water trickle away once pulling out the plug in the sink and went into the living room. Her emerald eyes observed the tidy furniture that looked like it hadn't been touched for a week. She was glad she was able to keep her apartment clean on a daily basis. That was another form of exercise other than fighting goons for more than an hour. But seeing how clean her living room was wasn't exactly her primary concern. She didn't know what to do right now. Usually she would go visit her friends or do window-shopping in town before heading off to her nightly shift outside the disco.
So why wasn't she doing one of those two things? Had her brain not recovered from last night yet? She thought the hot water would do the trick, though it appeared she was still musing over her closeness to death. She honestly didn't care whether she died or not. Death was becoming her friend since she became a saviour from a teenage life. This coffee guy she remembered five years ago was also becoming a new bother to her now. She didn't know where he was now. But nevertheless, she prayed the police would find him and his crazy friends. She hated to see another helpless girl get chased by a nutcase who scared the shit out of people with his knife. Especially when it was someone who went by the name -what was it again?- Oh yes…Farfarello.
Then there was the other guy who had orange hair. Schuldig was his name, wasn't it? Makoto didn't know how she could still pick these details up after having a heavy rest in the hospital (where she recovered quickly) and in her own comfy bed. Farfarello and Schuldig didn't seem to be your typical thugs who Makoto could beat instantly. They could have been gangsters who would do anything to kill people. There was hardly any gentleness seen behind those two faces. And the same went for Brad too. Makoto never realised he could look so dark. It seemed uncharacteristic for a supposedly nice person like him.
Dammit she had to keep reminding herself that he wasn't nice. He was probably never nice in the first place. But like she knew that before! A dark person who showed no mercy was meant to look bad. That was why the term villain was used, wasn't it? Groaning furiously, Makoto decided the best thing for her right now was to go for a stroll in town to let her brain get some fresh air. She didn't pick up each of her footsteps as she left the apartment like a gust of wind trailing past stationary objects. She was too eager to get out. Two different bleeps from gigantic trucks greeted her as soon as she stepped into the street.
Already the road was becoming congested. Life seemed to be busy as usual, whether it was on the road or in an office. Makoto didn't seem to care about how bad traffic was today. She just wanted to walk forever to give her mind a rest. Of course that wasn't easy when you had a familiar face floating in front of you and drowning your mind into a pool of guilt for not realising what a different person this so-called friendly individual was. Looks were deceiving, weren't they? Makoto wanted to stab herself in the heart for occasionally permitting herself to fall into such traps when it came to men.
She slapped her cheeks hard, which just happened to make the faded bruises suddenly come back to life with short moments of agonising pain. What the hell was up with her? Why couldn't she just forget about this coffee man and do something worthwhile before heading to work tonight? Yes, this is the best thing. Just forget about Brad uh I mean Crawford She thought.
/I doubt you'd be able to forget his face *that* easily, Liebling/
"Huh?" The Japanese brunette suddenly halted on her strolling after hearing an eerie voice tamper with her inner thoughts. Jade eyes bulging sharply, she turned over her shoulder to see another recognisable face standing by the door of a fast food restaurant, crossing his arms in a nonchalant grace and grinning in the same sadistic way as Crawford did last night. That orange hair was something that always caught one's eye if they passed this man.
"You!" Makoto said as her first reaction. She rubbed her temples soothingly without any specific reason. Did this guy just talk to her via telepathy? Or were her ears hearing things? There were no such things as psychics now, were there? "What do you want?"
"I want to talk to you," Schuldig replied.
"Sorry, not interested." She commenced to leave but his voice echoed in her mind again to prevent her from going any further.
/But don't you want to know who HE really is, Fraulein?/ Schuldig murmured. Biting her lip nervously from the emphasis of 'him', Makoto clenched her fists while her back was turned. She was now sure he was a psychic. Definitely a telepath no doubt. Well if that was the case then maybe she could play along without drawing any suspicion from anyone else. As long as people were doing their chores then they wouldn't notice anything.
/I honestly don't give a damn about what you, Crawford or any of your friends are thinking. It's not my concern/ She pivoted on her heels to look at him, glaring with those piercing jade orbs of hers. This was her non-verbal warning to leave her alone or else.
/You're a terrible liar to say you don't give a damn/ Schuldig said which made the girl frown angrily. /I can see your curiosity eat you up inside because of Crawford/.
Makoto felt her stomach churn automatically when he said that. There was no point in letting herself be brain-damaged by some freak's words. She had to ignore whatever he said once this conversation was over /Look, I know what he is. He's a murderer, isn't he?/. Why else did he carry a gun in his blazer? Wasn't it common sense? After all he was going to shoot her…though chose not to for some strange reason.
/You picked that up quickly, didn't you?/ The German complimented, almost as though he was applauding her. He was amazed that this girl wasn't showing any serious signs of shock or horror around her face. Maybe the jolt of discovering the guy, whom she had the hots for five years ago, was an assassin had already left her system since their fight ended. However that didn't ruin the other fun Schuldig had in store for her. How was she going to react when she learnt more? /A little bird tells me he won't kill you. Do you know why he let you live last night?/.
Makoto dreaded to hear this big question and averted her eyes from the orange haired man, losing the glare she had been keeping up. Yes, why did Crawford let her live? That was a good issue to bring up but she didn't want to hear about it. This was too frightening to even elaborate on. Schuldig could smell the fear rise all over her body and also develop slowly in clusters through her mind. Her thoughts were starting to taste much sweeter than before. This was becoming enjoyable by the minute. Screw Crawford for not letting him go near this girl. She was really amusing to watch after all.
Schuldig walked towards her as she stood in the middle of the street, her heart beating faster than usual, and whispered into her ear, "He wants you." Automatically, she gasped when he heard him say those daunting words she feared would come true. He managed to hear her thought exclaim 'It's not possible' and decided to play with her further. "Oh yes, it's true, Makoto. Ever since he set his eyes on you in that café, working as a waitress, he's always wanted you."
"N-no way," She gasped, unable to believe each word.
"This wanting from back then just came back to him when he saw you last night."
"Stop this," She said, trying to cover her ears. This was starting to kill her brain as well as her body's system.
Schuldig grabbed her arm while continuing to whisper. This game was too good to end now. "He wants to taste you inside and out. Crawford wants to make you…"
"ENOUGH!" Makoto hoisted her right fist up to throw a punch to him but missed the strike. Schuldig was suddenly on her left hand side, still smirking at her sickly. He was damn fast, wasn't he? Crawford took about a minute each time she threw a punch at him but Schuldig seemed like he took merely a second to dodge her. She then heard silent whispering and looked around to see some curious faces staring at her, all of them wondering what the hell was going on. Now she was the centre of attention. This mind game was making her frustrated. Good thing she managed to let her tension out, even though she looked like an absolute idiot in public.
Makoto slowed her irregular exhalation as she forced another glare towards Schuldig, who looked like he was being very entertained by a show. "You get the hell out of my sight!"
He laughed at the threat. "Don't worry I'll be on my way." Prior to his departure, he flashed a seductive wink and turned on his heels to leave the startled yet extremely pissed off brunette female standing in the middle of the now very quiet street. The buses that drove past her didn't appear to catch her attention as she watched the orange haired German disappear in front of her eyes. Why the hell didn't she stop him? The police should be informed on the whereabouts of these attackers, shouldn't they? Why else did she give them a description of the three men while recovering in the hospital last night?
But something was preventing her from dialling the emergency number. She didn't know what it was though. Some strange glue was preventing her body from running to the nearest phone box; preferably one that wasn't smashed. Her burden was likely to have something to do with Schuldig…and perhaps Crawford. Damn those men. How could she take all those remarks from that telepathic dude? Schuldig must have assumed Makoto had a weak mind and decided to use this to his advantage. That would explain why it was easy for him to speak to her telepathically and piss her off with frightening words about Crawford.
Suppose Crawford or Schuldig came back to attack her for real, what was she to do? Well of course there was one option. And that was to stop them from really killing her. Plus to turn them into the police where possible. Yes, that sounded like the right thing to do. She knew either one of them were going to come back to her. It would most likely be tonight, for sure. After all she was working in the evening. I won't let him or Schuldig get away with another attack She thought determinedly.
****
Schuldig opened the car door to sit in the driver's seat. Today was so fun. What a way to spend a morning. He honestly couldn't help himself after reading that girl's mind. Her anxiety and suspicion about who she assumed Crawford was as a person were two of the main aspects that stuck out from her thoughts, which explained why it was easy to reach into her. While trying to focus on getting herself up from crashing into the phone box, she didn't realise she had made herself vulnerable to mind reading.
When Schuldig was about to get inside, he noticed another car behind him and spotted the driver approaching. Naturally it was the Schwarz leader. Who else would wear business suits and look like a stuck-up bastard who wanted to keep everything in order? Crawford was the typical kind of guy to check what his team mates were up to. Why didn't Schuldig just expect this to happen and accept he screwed up? Oh hell he couldn't. If he didn't get a chance for fun then that was his day wasted, wasn't it?
"What did I tell you about playing with the girl?" The American scolded the German, poking left his shoulder. "Didn't I specifically mention to leave her alone and that *I* would deal with her myself?"
"Whoa, Crawford's getting defensive now, is he? Glad to see you finally come out with a confession," Schuldig joked, giggling simultaneously.
"You are a real pain in the butt sometimes, Schuldig. Don't get the habit of disobeying me as your leader."
"Hey, what are you going to do now?" The telepath asked. Crawford paused in his walk back to his car once he heard that question. Truthfully, things weren't going as he planned. He was hoping to talk to Makoto formally about who he really was but that looked like it wasn't going to happen. Not when he had a vision just a minute ago. It was the same vision he had after he left her by the phone box and when the emergency services arrived. Why was this mental picture repeating in front of him?
He never took the first vision seriously but then after realising *she* was the saviour of this town, he was back to being his serious workaholic self and wanted to know what she was up to these days. On the other hand, this new vision that had repeated for the second time today looked like it was warning him that these foreseen events were going to come true for him…and her. What was he to do? Was he going to see how reality played on its own? Did he really want to see if this was how she would act when she met him face to face? God, how he hated temptation and inquisitiveness. It was killing him.
"Head back to our quarters," Crawford ordered as he went back to his vehicle.
"Did you just have a vision of her again?" Schuldig asked. "I could have sworn I saw you smile a bit there. Unless that was my imagination."
"I did say I was going to 'deal' with her, didn't I?" The precognitive said. "While I'm absent to do my work, you will stay with Farfarello and Nagi." He walked off without any other response to his team mate.
Schuldig snorted in annoyance. "Tch, you sure know how to ruin my fun, don't you?" Prior to getting into his own car, the German's annoyance faded straight away once a delightful feeling soared inside of him and a playful smirk captured his lips. "But then again…I'm sure you're going to enjoy your moment with her. Isn't that right, Crawford?" Even though the leader wasn't showing his true emotions, Schuldig had an idea to what the vision was about. It wasn't too hard to work out now, was it? He had the feeling that these two were going to have one hell of a time together.
TBC
AN: Schuldig's manipulative schemes around the middle of this chapter aren't exactly what I would call a mind-fuck, which is a word that is pretty easy to work out by the name. He could easily have done this so-called mind-fuck to an extended level if he was able to get Makoto under *his* own control -i.e. do some naughty stuff to her mind- rather than piss the person off with his or own confused thoughts (in this case Makoto's thoughts on who Crawford really is). I wanted to keep his playful and naughty telepathy at a low level rather than make him do something more dangerous.
