Author's notes: This is my first fanfic, and it's a Weiß/Pertenum
crossover. Pertenum is mine, Weiss, Kritiker & etc. belong to Koyasu
Takehito & Co. Please don't sue, and if you're kind enough to rate, please
be kind enough to be honest; harsh comments are badly needed. Pertenum is
posted in fictionpress.com, in case you'd like to read the backstory of
this fic.
Warning/s: language
Note: text= thoughts
/text/ = flashback
Crossing lines: Bleary-eyed
July 3, 12:07 AM, Tokyo
Ditdit, ditdit, ditdit...
["You've got mail! You've got mail!"]
Ditdit, ditdit, ditdit...
... ... ... ... ...
The world is spinning around her.
/Voices... who's calling me?/
The world knows her as Kessy Abrera, her legal name.
/Why do I hear you?/
In the Scarlet Society, she is known as Baby Red.
/Fuck... get out of my head already./
To her family, she is Cielo Zarela.
But ask her who she really is, and you'd just get a blank stare.
/Ah, fuck./
Cielo got out of bed; her head was spinning and she felt like throwing up. There was the matter of jetlag, and the "mission" she was supposed to accomplish. So she headed for the bathroom.
/But really, I thought I heard wrong when Kale said they worked in a flowershop./
She shook her head, trying to get a bit of the wooziness out. /But it is true, the reports confirmed that./
The moment her feet hit the tiled floor section of the bathroom, Cielo lurched forward and vomited, holding on the lavatory for support.
... ... ... ... ...
Ken shivered. It was unusual for a summer night to be chilly. Heck, it was downright wrong to be the least bit cold. At least Omi had his window; Ken has yet to fix his window, namely the large gaping hole where the window pane was supposed to be.
"AAAAAARGHHH!" Ken decided he had enough of the wind; he grabbed the top sheet of his bed and draped it over the hole. /Laugh at it, go ahead./
/How the hell am I gonna sleep with the wind blowing down on me?/
Ken flopped back down on his bed and looked at the alarm clock.
[12:30 AM]
/Jeez, now I really need to sleep./
Ken was scheduled for the morning shift since Omi was having a fever and needed rest, so that meant he'd be spending the morning with a hopefully non-pissy Aya Fujimiya for at least six hours before lunchbreak. It's not the morning sickness thing he hates, actually; it's just too damn quiet when he was working with Aya, and Ken wasn't one for silence.
/Fuck Aya and his nonexistent voicebox, I don't want to work with a wall!/
Well, that, and the fact that he hasn't slept well the past few nights. When Birman arrived almost a week ago, he knew something was up. Missions were Manx's; announcements were Birman's. He wasn't quite surprised when she said Kritiker was merging with another association; it was the overall nature of the association that creeped him out.
/International group, huh?/
Ken remembered the opening sentence to Birman's briefing; "The Scarlet Society is an organization of assassins the kind of which can only be compared to what Estet has."
"Children all over the world are gathered by this organization and trained, at the least, at the age of 6 or younger. All of their operatives are, in certain aspects, unique... The Society will be sending in one of their top operatives to evaluate and manage Weiss before the merge is finalized."
/First, new management, then new leadership./
Ken couldn't think of anybody else handling Weiss other than Aya or Omi. Of course, some little part of him had realized that if Kritiker was really "merging", there'd be some changes with how things went in Weiss. Omi had explained how it might turn out if things went well; new fields, better training, better gadgets, they could even ditch the flower shop entirely. But the flower shop - and all the fangirls, no matter how irritating – had somehow made their lives a bit closer to normal, their guilt almost bearable.
/Why take that away?/
Ken thought in circles for a while before finally falling asleep.
... ... ... ... ...
[01:04 AM]
This hotel room stinks. I've flushed out the mess I made in the bathroom, so that cleans it up until the cleaning lady gets here. But this hotel room stinks.
The airconditioning is good, not too chilly, not the least warm either. The food, well, I chucked the raw fish out when it came; I'm not eating anything uncooked, thank you. The sheets and the carpet are really nice; cute patterns too.
So what sucks about this place?
The fucking picture hanging on the wall across the bed. A happy family, all having a grand time eating dinner at some house, all smiles and nice happy love around while the entire world spins crazily past. How realistic; pull my leg, why don't you.
Mom. Dad. I can't believe there was a time when these words weren't foreign to me. I thought those times spent at home were all it was; time spent with the ones I love. Yeah, right. Love. The most fucked up word in the vocabulary of mankind.
They must have loved me so much when they buried me alive.
Tclack!
Eh? What fell? Oh...
My cellphone. Eh?
["You've got mail! You've got mail!"]
[ Meet Weiss agent at 1700, hotel lobby. Your sister's already there in Tokyo. – K]
This hotel room sucks.
... ... ... ... ...
[09:00 AM]
"Uhnnnnn..."
The slight, sickly figure in apartment 202 shifted and squirmed in its bed. Something was shaking its shoulder, willing it to wake up.
"Hmmmmmmm... eh, wha- TCHOO!"
"And good morning to you, too, Omi," Yohji greeted, albeit somewhat sardonically. "Thanks for the LOVELY sticky goo you've sneezed on my shirt."
Omi merely smiled back and sniffed. "Eh, gomen ne, Yohji-kun. I –sniff- guess I –sniff- owe you." Omi was about to say something but was stifled by another slightly less projectile-ejecting sneeze. "Waah, Yohji-kun! I didn' mean tha'!"
/Oh, great. Phlegm all over my face. And it's not even 10 AM./
Yohji handed Omi a can of chilled orange juice. "Not much help, I know," Yohji snorted, "but at least that can clear up your nose till your brunch is delivered."
"Eh, than's, Yohji-kun...sniff..."
Yohji looked at Omi for a moment; just a few years ago he was a bouncy fourteen year old kid. He winced inwardly; /Omi... what had happened to you?/ Yohji then stood up and mussed Omi's bangs, until the younger Weiss swatted at his hand.
"I'm turning 19, Yohji-kun! Stop treating me like a preteen!"
"Yeah, well, you still look like one!" Yohji laughed on his way out of Omi's room. "You better get well fast, Omittchi; your fanbase won't wait long enough!" Yohji closed the door just as Omi threw a pillow aimed at his head.
/Baka!!! Why does it matter?/
Omi flopped back onto his bed; he wasn't used to waking up this late in the morning, and his head was heavy from the blood rush. Omi put his hands on his face, massaging his cheeks with his palms. /Ow, even my jaw feels weird. I gotta get up./
He sat back again and swung his feet to the side the bed. He tried to stand up, but the moment he was in an upright position his vision started to sway and he had to sit down. He rested his head on his hands.
/This fever is worse than I thought. I can't even stand!!!/
Well, Omi isn't one for losing. Even to a fever.
Warning/s: language
Note: text= thoughts
/text/ = flashback
Crossing lines: Bleary-eyed
July 3, 12:07 AM, Tokyo
Ditdit, ditdit, ditdit...
["You've got mail! You've got mail!"]
Ditdit, ditdit, ditdit...
... ... ... ... ...
The world is spinning around her.
/Voices... who's calling me?/
The world knows her as Kessy Abrera, her legal name.
/Why do I hear you?/
In the Scarlet Society, she is known as Baby Red.
/Fuck... get out of my head already./
To her family, she is Cielo Zarela.
But ask her who she really is, and you'd just get a blank stare.
/Ah, fuck./
Cielo got out of bed; her head was spinning and she felt like throwing up. There was the matter of jetlag, and the "mission" she was supposed to accomplish. So she headed for the bathroom.
/But really, I thought I heard wrong when Kale said they worked in a flowershop./
She shook her head, trying to get a bit of the wooziness out. /But it is true, the reports confirmed that./
The moment her feet hit the tiled floor section of the bathroom, Cielo lurched forward and vomited, holding on the lavatory for support.
... ... ... ... ...
Ken shivered. It was unusual for a summer night to be chilly. Heck, it was downright wrong to be the least bit cold. At least Omi had his window; Ken has yet to fix his window, namely the large gaping hole where the window pane was supposed to be.
"AAAAAARGHHH!" Ken decided he had enough of the wind; he grabbed the top sheet of his bed and draped it over the hole. /Laugh at it, go ahead./
/How the hell am I gonna sleep with the wind blowing down on me?/
Ken flopped back down on his bed and looked at the alarm clock.
[12:30 AM]
/Jeez, now I really need to sleep./
Ken was scheduled for the morning shift since Omi was having a fever and needed rest, so that meant he'd be spending the morning with a hopefully non-pissy Aya Fujimiya for at least six hours before lunchbreak. It's not the morning sickness thing he hates, actually; it's just too damn quiet when he was working with Aya, and Ken wasn't one for silence.
/Fuck Aya and his nonexistent voicebox, I don't want to work with a wall!/
Well, that, and the fact that he hasn't slept well the past few nights. When Birman arrived almost a week ago, he knew something was up. Missions were Manx's; announcements were Birman's. He wasn't quite surprised when she said Kritiker was merging with another association; it was the overall nature of the association that creeped him out.
/International group, huh?/
Ken remembered the opening sentence to Birman's briefing; "The Scarlet Society is an organization of assassins the kind of which can only be compared to what Estet has."
"Children all over the world are gathered by this organization and trained, at the least, at the age of 6 or younger. All of their operatives are, in certain aspects, unique... The Society will be sending in one of their top operatives to evaluate and manage Weiss before the merge is finalized."
/First, new management, then new leadership./
Ken couldn't think of anybody else handling Weiss other than Aya or Omi. Of course, some little part of him had realized that if Kritiker was really "merging", there'd be some changes with how things went in Weiss. Omi had explained how it might turn out if things went well; new fields, better training, better gadgets, they could even ditch the flower shop entirely. But the flower shop - and all the fangirls, no matter how irritating – had somehow made their lives a bit closer to normal, their guilt almost bearable.
/Why take that away?/
Ken thought in circles for a while before finally falling asleep.
... ... ... ... ...
[01:04 AM]
This hotel room stinks. I've flushed out the mess I made in the bathroom, so that cleans it up until the cleaning lady gets here. But this hotel room stinks.
The airconditioning is good, not too chilly, not the least warm either. The food, well, I chucked the raw fish out when it came; I'm not eating anything uncooked, thank you. The sheets and the carpet are really nice; cute patterns too.
So what sucks about this place?
The fucking picture hanging on the wall across the bed. A happy family, all having a grand time eating dinner at some house, all smiles and nice happy love around while the entire world spins crazily past. How realistic; pull my leg, why don't you.
Mom. Dad. I can't believe there was a time when these words weren't foreign to me. I thought those times spent at home were all it was; time spent with the ones I love. Yeah, right. Love. The most fucked up word in the vocabulary of mankind.
They must have loved me so much when they buried me alive.
Tclack!
Eh? What fell? Oh...
My cellphone. Eh?
["You've got mail! You've got mail!"]
[ Meet Weiss agent at 1700, hotel lobby. Your sister's already there in Tokyo. – K]
This hotel room sucks.
... ... ... ... ...
[09:00 AM]
"Uhnnnnn..."
The slight, sickly figure in apartment 202 shifted and squirmed in its bed. Something was shaking its shoulder, willing it to wake up.
"Hmmmmmmm... eh, wha- TCHOO!"
"And good morning to you, too, Omi," Yohji greeted, albeit somewhat sardonically. "Thanks for the LOVELY sticky goo you've sneezed on my shirt."
Omi merely smiled back and sniffed. "Eh, gomen ne, Yohji-kun. I –sniff- guess I –sniff- owe you." Omi was about to say something but was stifled by another slightly less projectile-ejecting sneeze. "Waah, Yohji-kun! I didn' mean tha'!"
/Oh, great. Phlegm all over my face. And it's not even 10 AM./
Yohji handed Omi a can of chilled orange juice. "Not much help, I know," Yohji snorted, "but at least that can clear up your nose till your brunch is delivered."
"Eh, than's, Yohji-kun...sniff..."
Yohji looked at Omi for a moment; just a few years ago he was a bouncy fourteen year old kid. He winced inwardly; /Omi... what had happened to you?/ Yohji then stood up and mussed Omi's bangs, until the younger Weiss swatted at his hand.
"I'm turning 19, Yohji-kun! Stop treating me like a preteen!"
"Yeah, well, you still look like one!" Yohji laughed on his way out of Omi's room. "You better get well fast, Omittchi; your fanbase won't wait long enough!" Yohji closed the door just as Omi threw a pillow aimed at his head.
/Baka!!! Why does it matter?/
Omi flopped back onto his bed; he wasn't used to waking up this late in the morning, and his head was heavy from the blood rush. Omi put his hands on his face, massaging his cheeks with his palms. /Ow, even my jaw feels weird. I gotta get up./
He sat back again and swung his feet to the side the bed. He tried to stand up, but the moment he was in an upright position his vision started to sway and he had to sit down. He rested his head on his hands.
/This fever is worse than I thought. I can't even stand!!!/
Well, Omi isn't one for losing. Even to a fever.