A/N: I finally got around to posting the next chappie! Yay! Sorry about the
delay, homework and work and all the annoying time consuming stuff that
goes with it prevented me from posting sooner - the good news is that I
finally have! Thanks to all the reviewers for their comments on the
previous chapters, you were all responsible for finally making me feel
guilty enough to post the next chapter - keep up the good work!
Without further ado, the next installment in 'Flames of Insanity' (which is
soon to drive me to the point of insanity!In the nicest possible way of
course!) Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I don't own Weiss Kreuz as much as I would like to, I can't be bothered listing the people who do, just know that I don't and I'm merely borrowing the characters to entertain me and take up what little time I have left. Don't sue me, please!
Flames Of Insanity - Chapter 4
Halfway down the cream carpeted hallway the German had pulled out a cigarette box and lighter from his back pocket, expertly flipping open the lid of the box with his thumb. Plucking one of the cigarettes from the box with a thumb and forefinger the orange-haired man turned the nicotine- craving-reducing object over idly before slipping its tan end between his lips. Raising his cheap red plastic lighter to sit level with the cigarette before flicking it in a clearly practiced motion.
The flint sparked but failed to create the necessary flame. Lowering h is russet coloured brows a little the telepath carefully flicked the lighter again. Once more the flint sparked but failed to ignite a flame. Scowling Schuldig impatiently flicked the lighter four times in rapid succession - still failing to entice the elusive tongue of flame to appear. The Mastermind was about to flick the lighter once again, gripping the plastic object so tightly he saw his knuckles turn white when an almighty crash made him leap half a foot into the air in alarm. His luxurious mane of red hair flew in all directions before finally settling, over his trademark yellow bandana, in his eyes.
Navy eyes widened in horror as his mouth lost its grip on the precious cigarette and it tumbled from his lips to land on the lush carpeted floor. Ordinarily this wouldn't have been such a problem, the Schwarz leader being notorious for being a 'clean freak' ensuring that their living quarters were generally immaculate. However since a certain Irish team member had scared their newest cleaning lady almost to the pint of madness the penthouse had been uncharacteristically unclean.
Upon seeing his cigarette fall upon a particularly dusty and dirty patch of carpet, settling itself amongst the cream coloured pile of the carpet, various balls of fluff, a few chip crumbs and a dark stain (that the German had a sinister suspicion was blood). The telepath had nothing to say, he simply stared, slightly slack jawed before uttering the first sound he had made for a few minutes,
"SHIT!!!"
Whirling around in a vain attempt to locate the source of the noise the telepath also sent out strong mental probes to the other team members minds. Sliding over the strong shielding that patrolled the American's mind Schuldig muttered a string of obscene curses in various languages and dropped the probe before focussing on the insane team member, who he found was preoccupied with cross-hatching his left arm. Deciding to leave him to it Schuldig prepared to attack Nagi, before remembering their youngest team member was still at school.
With a scowl and a final glance at the cigarette the German continued along the hall and down the stairs. The orange-haired assassin stalked into the kitchen and flicked the switch on the coffee- pot and preparing to wait for it to brew. The Telepath sat on the cedar wood bench and wondered whether he had somehow picked up the gift of empathy and picked up on Crawford's bad mood.
He glanced at the slowly percolating coffee, the only thing he could think of that would take his mind off the nicotine craving writhing in his gut. The phone on the wall next to him rang loudly and instead of jumping in alarm he extended an arm rapidly and yanked the phone of the wall before it rang a second time and drawling into the receiver,
"Yeah?"
"Hello, is this Brad Crawford?"
The voice on the other end was distinctly female, with a slight accent that the German couldn't quite place, the word were obviously practiced - Schuldig picked up a slight tone of boredom in her voice. The telepath toyed with the idea of replying 'yes' but then decided, considering the mood the American was currently in and the fact that if it was something important he would have problems lying his way out of it. Crawford's shields were too strong for the telepath to break quickly, if at all. Schuldig sighed like a child who had been deprived of a candy bar and replied,
"No, I'll go get him - who's this?"
"Anna Mavericks."
"Right, hold for a moment."
Schuldig bumped the hold button, replaced the receiver on the wall and called,
"Crawford! Phone call on line 1!"
Disclaimer: I don't own Weiss Kreuz as much as I would like to, I can't be bothered listing the people who do, just know that I don't and I'm merely borrowing the characters to entertain me and take up what little time I have left. Don't sue me, please!
Flames Of Insanity - Chapter 4
Halfway down the cream carpeted hallway the German had pulled out a cigarette box and lighter from his back pocket, expertly flipping open the lid of the box with his thumb. Plucking one of the cigarettes from the box with a thumb and forefinger the orange-haired man turned the nicotine- craving-reducing object over idly before slipping its tan end between his lips. Raising his cheap red plastic lighter to sit level with the cigarette before flicking it in a clearly practiced motion.
The flint sparked but failed to create the necessary flame. Lowering h is russet coloured brows a little the telepath carefully flicked the lighter again. Once more the flint sparked but failed to ignite a flame. Scowling Schuldig impatiently flicked the lighter four times in rapid succession - still failing to entice the elusive tongue of flame to appear. The Mastermind was about to flick the lighter once again, gripping the plastic object so tightly he saw his knuckles turn white when an almighty crash made him leap half a foot into the air in alarm. His luxurious mane of red hair flew in all directions before finally settling, over his trademark yellow bandana, in his eyes.
Navy eyes widened in horror as his mouth lost its grip on the precious cigarette and it tumbled from his lips to land on the lush carpeted floor. Ordinarily this wouldn't have been such a problem, the Schwarz leader being notorious for being a 'clean freak' ensuring that their living quarters were generally immaculate. However since a certain Irish team member had scared their newest cleaning lady almost to the pint of madness the penthouse had been uncharacteristically unclean.
Upon seeing his cigarette fall upon a particularly dusty and dirty patch of carpet, settling itself amongst the cream coloured pile of the carpet, various balls of fluff, a few chip crumbs and a dark stain (that the German had a sinister suspicion was blood). The telepath had nothing to say, he simply stared, slightly slack jawed before uttering the first sound he had made for a few minutes,
"SHIT!!!"
Whirling around in a vain attempt to locate the source of the noise the telepath also sent out strong mental probes to the other team members minds. Sliding over the strong shielding that patrolled the American's mind Schuldig muttered a string of obscene curses in various languages and dropped the probe before focussing on the insane team member, who he found was preoccupied with cross-hatching his left arm. Deciding to leave him to it Schuldig prepared to attack Nagi, before remembering their youngest team member was still at school.
With a scowl and a final glance at the cigarette the German continued along the hall and down the stairs. The orange-haired assassin stalked into the kitchen and flicked the switch on the coffee- pot and preparing to wait for it to brew. The Telepath sat on the cedar wood bench and wondered whether he had somehow picked up the gift of empathy and picked up on Crawford's bad mood.
He glanced at the slowly percolating coffee, the only thing he could think of that would take his mind off the nicotine craving writhing in his gut. The phone on the wall next to him rang loudly and instead of jumping in alarm he extended an arm rapidly and yanked the phone of the wall before it rang a second time and drawling into the receiver,
"Yeah?"
"Hello, is this Brad Crawford?"
The voice on the other end was distinctly female, with a slight accent that the German couldn't quite place, the word were obviously practiced - Schuldig picked up a slight tone of boredom in her voice. The telepath toyed with the idea of replying 'yes' but then decided, considering the mood the American was currently in and the fact that if it was something important he would have problems lying his way out of it. Crawford's shields were too strong for the telepath to break quickly, if at all. Schuldig sighed like a child who had been deprived of a candy bar and replied,
"No, I'll go get him - who's this?"
"Anna Mavericks."
"Right, hold for a moment."
Schuldig bumped the hold button, replaced the receiver on the wall and called,
"Crawford! Phone call on line 1!"