This chapter: Enter Schwartz
Schuldig sat up in bed, running his fingers through his sleep-tossed red-orange hair. His CD player was still hissing out trance music, mostly the works of an American DJ named Paul Oakenfield. That was his latest obsession in DJ's, and so the German-born telepath was obliged to listen to as much Oakenfield as possible.
Beside him on the bed, someone stirred, and he looked down to figure out just whom he'd fucked the previous night. Miry again. He sighed. The ruby-streaked black hair was a dead giveaway every time. That and the fact that the dragon tattoo on her shoulder stood out a pattern of bright red and pitch black on her pale skin, a certain identifying mark for anyone who cared to look.
The teenager shifted in bed and yawned, cracking one hazel-brown eye open and glaring around.
"Where the fuck's Jay at?" she demanded in sleepy English.
Schu sighed and flopped back. He could sleep with whomever he wanted, but he'd never find anyone to stay with, it seemed. Even Miry and Farf had each other, for fuck's sake. Although, on second thought, they were damned near a perfect couple: both crazy as hell and both freakish as well.
"He's probably in your room," muttered the telepath, turning his back to his teammate and occasional fuck, eyes closing. He felt the faint shift of pressure as she got off the bed, and heard the sound of her pulling on the chain-adorned bondage pants and zipping on the shirt. The door opened, shut, and then he was alone again. More so than before.
He had no idea why he insisted on seducing Miry from time to time, getting her drunk or high and then lugging her into his bed, as though jeopardizing her relationship with Farfarello would make her turn to him. It wasn't like she was any great prize, either. Her idea of good sex was something that only Farf would find appealing, and her mind was so utterly twisted that Schu preferred to avoid her, if possible. But somehow, he had to fuck her when he'd been too long without any attention from her brother.
A few minutes later, the door opened, and Schu looked up to see the slight form of Naoe Nagi standing there, dressed in his usual loose jeans and slightly fitted tee-shirt, headphones dangling around his neck.
"Wake up, Schuldig. Crawford-sama wants you right away."
"In a good way or a bad way?" mumbled the redhead, stretching lazily.
"It'll be bad if you wait," replied the telekinetic teenager smartly, turning around and walking off. A minute later, Schu was scrambling out into the hallway, trying to button a pair of pants while his shirt flew open in the rush he was creating. He sprinted into Crawford's office and leaned casually against the door, trying to hide the fact that he was tired and wanted a cigarette more than anything in the world.
"Schuldig, I have a mission for you and Nagi," began Crawford. That was when Schu realized that the boy was in the room as well, listening quietly as always.
"What is it?" asked Schu, fishing in his pocket for his pack.
"I want you two to go and scout out another assassin team over on the other side of Tokyo. They work undercover as florists," said the American man, the sneer evident in his voice, "At a shop called 'Koneko no Sumi Ie.' Their team name is Weiss."
"At odds with Schwartz, surely," smirked Schuldig, who was the only native German speaker in the group, and who knew the literal meanings of both group names. He swore internally when he realized that Miry had stolen his cigarettes as she left that morning, and vowed to get the girl when he was done with this meeting.
"I want you to go over and do recon on the area, try and find out a bit about each of the others. Then report back to me at the end of the day. Bring Hellfire along if need be, but I do not want you taking Farfarello along with her. The two of them together are too much trouble, and attract far too much attention," said Crawford.
Sometimes Schu really hated the man. The way Crawford would never call his own sister by her name, so badly did he hate her. The way he had to be impersonal about everything, especially when he fucked the telepath. The way everything had to go according to Brad Crawford's plans, or else he would kill anyone who came near him simply out of principle. It was not right, even by Schuldig's twisted and few morals.