Chocolate Treat: Part Two
By. Box
10/12/03

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"I've cast a spell on you, and now you're mine..."

Halloween was in the air and blasting out through surround sound systems that were turned up so high the walls vibrated and shook with each light and heavy bass line. Nagi's scowl was a permanent fixture by now, and he was positive that by the time the night was over he would be half-deaf, if not completely so.

He tugged at his costume as he and Farfarello slipped unnoticed to mingle in among the cordially invited crowd. It could've been another to hate the holiday, but he couldn't blame the brightly colored court jester outfit entirely on Halloween, having attended masquerade balls before--on mission, of course. The full face-paint job was starting to irritate him now that there was no cool breeze to soothe the strange sensation of the heavy makeup. And every time he took a step, tiny bells jingled from the toes of his shoes, and the pointed, dangling tips of his hat.

Farfarello hadn't quite escape heat suffocation either, but since discomfort "hurt God", well, the Irishman was happy enough. His companion wore a heavy brocaded cloak, the simple pants and shirt beneath hidden by the enveloping flow of the cloak, and his upper face and head was covered by a rather fanciful-looking mask. The mask of which was also heavily bedecked in feathers, beads, and bits of... things that Nagi wasn't quite sure was supposed to be made out of. And he couldn't profess to caring all too much. Still, their outfits attracted a few, hopeful (and with leers that could, but not quite, reach Schuldig's standards) looks. A few of the vinyl and leather-clad costumers were definitely giving Farfarello the eye, what with the way he held his sword point up, tongue absently caressing it every few seconds or so.

Tugging again on the now constricting, and thus thrice uncomfortable in the cumulated body heat, frilled collar of his outfit, Nagi met curious and flirtatious gazes with one tempered like unmovable ice, and continued to walk through the dancing bodies and grouped clumps. Farfarello remained oblivious to the hooded glances thrown their way.

Blues eyes and a golden one scanned the crowd efficiently and subtly, trying to pick out their main target. Here though, amidst the tightly packed bodies, and flashing, distracting costumes many (if not all) of the invitees wore, Nagi wondered how long it would take for them to locate the man.

Second floor, west wing, last door at the end of the hallway. Seems the target's enjoying himself a nice little, Halloween "treat".

Ah, Schuldig. Perhaps not long after all. His nose wrinkled in disgust at the mental image accompanied by Schuldig's message, and made a note to have the German neutered since the image of their target mounting a moaning, cat-eared woman had be followed by a repulsive image of him and Schuldig. Perversely, Schulding had been the one wearing the cat ears.

Shuddering off the unwanted image, they swiftly moved up the two flight of stairs, passing by several couples who groped one another underneath the dim, pulsing light that filled the mansion. Wet, open-mouth kisses were shared along a long line of writhing bodies against railings and walls and atop desks.

It was almost like a mass orgy, despite the reclusive pairings.

Nagi figured any other boy of his age would have been flustered, or aroused, by the sights and sounds, but after living with Schuldig? All he managed now was a detached disgust, preferring to focus more on joining up with the other two, dispensing of the target, and getting out of this hellhole and back to Japan.

Schuldig's iridescently colored costume appeared in the distance. Breezy, filmy material that caught and shimmered in the light and twinkling gems and baubles made up the German's costume. Nagi had no idea what the man was going for, but sardonic amusement had laced the German's words when he pronounced he was to be a "fairy". Nagi wasn't quite sure what to make of the statement, or the amused chuckle that followed it, but he had a relatively educated hypothesis. Feathers were also woven into the plumage that flared out behind the mask, and the fuzz looked softer than that of Farfarello's. Nagi's hand twitched, wanting to yank the mask off and pet the various adornments and see how soft the feathers were. Nagi had no idea where the sudden desire rose from, but he squelched it in an instant, knowing if Schuldig so much as caught a whiff of Nagi's treacherous hand, he would be teased mercilessly for days on end.

As if the German didn't already do so.

Next to him, Crawford's hooded Grim Reaper outfit only made the other man to stand out even more.

Crawford opened the door with gloved hand. The hinges were well oiled, and the door parted silently for the men to slip inside. True to Schuldig's sent image, their target was indeed enjoying his "Halloween treat."

Without so much as a batted eyelash, or a verbal (or mental) command, Nagi reached out with his powers to hold the moving bodies in place. Invisible hands were fisted over mouths to halt the surprised exclamations and muffled cries. The three of them watched while Crawford pulled out a small, gleaming gun, silencer clipped on. Two smart shots to the heads and it was over.

Nagi released his hold on the now still bodies, and they left the stifled room, still heavily scented by the smell of sex, and soon to be touched by death.

The entire thing had been appallingly easy, not even a few guards to worry about along the way out. Mr. Thompson had given their target too much credit.

When they were once out of the mansion, and away from the throbbing music, Nagi breathed a sigh of relief. The pounding in his head lessened with each foot made further away from the noise, and it was with vast pleasure that he yanked his jester's hat from his head. Making as if to scrub at his eyes, which were now as irritated as their master, Nagi's hand was suddenly caught within the iron-grasp of a gloved hand.

He looked up at Crawford in mild surprise, a slender brow raising.

"Mr. Thompson requested us to attend his party. In costume." Clearly expecting for Nagi to obey, Crawford let go of the boy's now limp hand and continued to walk at an indifferent pace.

Nagi sighed in weariness this time, and left his makeup alone. It had seemed like overkill to him at first, having to have all of them take out a target who was woefully and inadequately prepared, and all in these ridiculous getups. It certainly made more sense now, though Nagi bitterly wished otherwise.

Relief dashed, and thoroughly irritated once more, he hoped the night would pass by quickly.