TITLE: Two Faces
RATING: PG-13/R
NOTE: This is the second story in my Schwartz arc
SPOILERS: probably a few
Brad read his newspaper and saw the future. Crawford gave orders, and others followed. He strained his eyes knowing in a few days he'd have to get a new pair, a stronger perscription. Blind seer, how...ironic...how...cliche. He tried to pay attention to what he was reading but his attention kept wandering, from his past-his parents death, to the present-Nagi and Nagi's new boyfriend, and to the future-Schuldig's death.
Death. That wasn't a new subject to his weary mind. Death, he foresaw at every corner. Every twist of time and fate led a new path to death. Now that they'd destroyed Eszett there wasn't a new way to get a telepath, he decided to think about, or perhaps he could think about how dangerous Nagi's new crush bordering on obsession could be to Schwartz. With that Tot girl it could have been the end of the boy, of course they could have brought Weiss down then as well. Troublesome Weiss.
He tried not to think of death. He looked at the newspaper, and threw it at the table, not caring if it landed or not. Too many reminders of death.
Death of society as a whole. A grand plan, and he was sure that if given the right chances they might be able to succeed.
Hatred. A hatred of society, and their prejudices. Fear of death.
DAMMIT! Death was the one subject that he wanted to forget right now. Schuldig. There was an interesting subject. But he had to avoid it for now. Until he could find what that wrenching in his heart was everytime he thought about Schuldig's fate. He had a team to take care of.
Brad. That's who he was before RosenKreuz and Eszett. Brad was the boy that could afford emotions and mercy. Could afford morals. Brad who could smile a true smile without the weight of a million different destinies weighing on every motion.
Crawford. That was him now. He had a team, and he had a goal. The total breakdown of society. He had to act as though he, as Schuldig so charmingly put it, "constantly had a stick up his ass." He couldn't afford emotions, mercy and morals. They could only obstruck his abtaining of his goal. Crawford could only smirk, knowing he was in control.
Brad read the newspaper and saw the future. Crawford gave orders that others followed. Brad was dieing slowly.
RATING: PG-13/R
NOTE: This is the second story in my Schwartz arc
SPOILERS: probably a few
Brad read his newspaper and saw the future. Crawford gave orders, and others followed. He strained his eyes knowing in a few days he'd have to get a new pair, a stronger perscription. Blind seer, how...ironic...how...cliche. He tried to pay attention to what he was reading but his attention kept wandering, from his past-his parents death, to the present-Nagi and Nagi's new boyfriend, and to the future-Schuldig's death.
Death. That wasn't a new subject to his weary mind. Death, he foresaw at every corner. Every twist of time and fate led a new path to death. Now that they'd destroyed Eszett there wasn't a new way to get a telepath, he decided to think about, or perhaps he could think about how dangerous Nagi's new crush bordering on obsession could be to Schwartz. With that Tot girl it could have been the end of the boy, of course they could have brought Weiss down then as well. Troublesome Weiss.
He tried not to think of death. He looked at the newspaper, and threw it at the table, not caring if it landed or not. Too many reminders of death.
Death of society as a whole. A grand plan, and he was sure that if given the right chances they might be able to succeed.
Hatred. A hatred of society, and their prejudices. Fear of death.
DAMMIT! Death was the one subject that he wanted to forget right now. Schuldig. There was an interesting subject. But he had to avoid it for now. Until he could find what that wrenching in his heart was everytime he thought about Schuldig's fate. He had a team to take care of.
Brad. That's who he was before RosenKreuz and Eszett. Brad was the boy that could afford emotions and mercy. Could afford morals. Brad who could smile a true smile without the weight of a million different destinies weighing on every motion.
Crawford. That was him now. He had a team, and he had a goal. The total breakdown of society. He had to act as though he, as Schuldig so charmingly put it, "constantly had a stick up his ass." He couldn't afford emotions, mercy and morals. They could only obstruck his abtaining of his goal. Crawford could only smirk, knowing he was in control.
Brad read the newspaper and saw the future. Crawford gave orders that others followed. Brad was dieing slowly.