The Hunting – Chapter 1: Loony Weather

Disclaimer: I don't own Weiss, I don't own Schwarz, I don't own Japan, I don't own the weather, I don't own the buildings, I don't own the people, or their scarves and jackets and mittens, I don't own the Koneko, I don't own Ritalin, and I have no idea how it is really used. I assume pills. 'Cause I have a friend with ADHD. I don't know what they do for Adult ADD. Please don't sue me for those things I do not own and for misuse of those that I do not own. I intend to fix them up with another twist. I own nothing, except for the ummmm idea? I think... I might not even own that either. 0.o It's wasteful to research fanfics, I think.

It was a cold summer day in Japan when Crawford realized that there was something amiss with his plans. Oh, the plans were going very nicely –summer and spring were completely obliterated from the climate of Japan, thanks to the machines built by those kind scientists who had let Schwarz use their minds. All that was spiffy. And nifty. And the like.

Well, Crawford grinned, not so much that they actually had a choice.

No, what was wrong with the plan was that Weiss wasn't there to wreck everything. And, quite frankly, Crawford was rather pissed. Oh, it was true that he was pissed whenever one of his masterful plans had been ruined because of Weiss getting in the way and killing off the faulty power- seeker. No, this time he was pissed because they had to be there to screw everything over, though he knew that they wouldn't succeed. They would never succeed again after this ordeal. But they had to do it nonetheless, so everything would go accordingly.

Crawford called Schuldich into the office. "I need you to do something for me, if this is going to go as we planned it." As I planned it, rather...

"Why is it that I'm always the one asked to do the dirty work?" Schuldich asked, sighing in a pseudo-forlorn manner.

Schuldich had been merely addressing himself, but Crawford answered anyway. "You were made for this work. From your body structure, to that mind of yours. I know how much you like these sorts of things." He paused, penting his fingers and leaning back in his chair. "Go to that... disturbing flower shop and find out why Weiss hasn't yet come to the amazing rescue of Japan, alright?"

"Why not just let them stay out of our way? Why don't we just let things go the way they are? Everything's doing fine."

"I always want to laugh when you ask questions." And then Crawford remembered he had not told Schuldich about the entirety of this mission, and also, that he could not assume that Schuldich knew, for nothing could penetrate the mental shields of Brad Crawford. "They have something I require," he stated enigmatically. Best to sort things out before telling.

"And what would that be?" Schuldich ask sweetly, his voice dripping with mockery.

Crawford had heard that coming ages ago and was still at battle with himself over whether or not he should tell the orange-haired German. If Schuldich was informed, he could either be able to do the assignment more effectively or choose to shirk his loyalty and use the information as he pleased. Crawford really didn't like the latter of that idea. If he was not told, things would go somewhat smoothly, and the only downfall would be brought by Schuldich's inane and randomized curiosity, provoked by his ideas of fun, which was also held in account for the former of the previous choice.

Crawford felt the soft brush of another's mind in his. Stress was building in his blood and forcing his shields down. "Stop that," he reproached Schuldich, forcing him out. He knew what the telepath had seen, the battle, that he wanted something. Nothing more. "I can't see the future, Schuldich, until a decision is made. That's just how the space-time continuum works." He swiveled around in his chair. "You will find out what it is I need in due time. Now, get to work, why don't you?"

As Schuldich left, Crawford turned back to the desk and sighed, putting his head in his hands. He knew nothing could be kept a secret for long, not in this anime.

"Loony weather we're having here, isn't it?" Ken observed as he brought the plants in from outside. "Sure is quiet today. I wonder where the girls are..." He rubbed his chin and turned to Yoji who was reclining back in a chair, with his feet propped up on the table. "Is Omi still working at finding those scientists?"

"What do you think?" Yoji asked lazily, his eyes closed.

Ken wiped his hands on his apron. "God, we don't even know what they did that we have to kill them for. Kritiker's really slacking these days." He paused and sighed. "So I take it... since all this time went by... Omi's in no hurry?"

"Bingo."

And why not? Schuldich thought as he skulked in the shadows of the alleyway next to the Koneko, leaning against the wall to get a better feel for the minds. No body count, eh? Is that what they want? Well, how can I refuse such a delectable invitation? If it's bodies they want, it's bodies they'll get... He was about to jump away into the setting sun when he remembered. Just what was it they had that Crawford wanted so badly? He searched each assassin's mind until only Ran was left. He had to have had it. Here it was, ready for the taking, left in a mortal's mind to curdle and spoil. Waste not, want not. Schuldich froze. What the hell is that? It appeared to him to be a syringe. Is that what Crawford wants? Drugs? Poison? He was at a loss for thoughts, an ironic moment for a man who had other people's thoughts floating and colliding in his head.

It began to snow, a truly strange sight for the middle of June. "Stupid loony weather," he muttered to himself, still partially lost in the minds of Weiss –he wouldn't have said loony otherwise– and decided to walk back home instead of jumping. Eventually, he got bored and stopped at a tavern for a drink, and then four shots to follow.

When he returned, he went straight to the room where Nagi and Farfarello both happened to be, upon coincidence. "We have work tonight," he said, his eyes glinting with malintent, as well as drunkenness, and breath smelling of whiskey and vodka. "We need dead bodies. And a lot won't hurt."

Farfarello was busy at work, lacerating innocent people and leaving them at the scientists' labs, at their doorsteps, but beyond that. Schuldich was busy committing suicides over the drab weather. Nagi was busy burying people in the snow that had accumulated over the last few hours. There were actually several lots of dead bodies when they were finished. The group seemed to have gotten a bit carried away.

"That oughta get Weiss in the game a little sooner," Schuldich commented.

The three Schwarz stood atop a building in such a delightfully ominous manner. Nagi was, however, shivering, jealous at how Farfarello could feel nothing, and at how Schuldich seemed to be able to keep his composure anywhere. He glared at the both of them from behind. The people below didn't seem to see them. In fact, nearly the entire city was closed down. The only people on the streets were either homeless, or bundled to their noses.

Schuldich laughed at them all, a maniacal cackle of impending and inevitable doom –something between a rabid squirrel on crack, and a bunny with fangs; either way, doesn't leave too much room for margin in imagining. He knew no one would escape, and those that did, would find themselves killed in another country. "Bundling your asses won't save you! It won't save Japan, won't save the world! The weather will just get worse and worse until every one of you are dead!"

Schuldich came back with the other two assassins in tow. "We're baaack, Crawford!" he announced cheerily. Dead bodies always made him feel better about himself. There was no answer and Schuldich decided the seer must still be working in the office. He went to go get him.

It turned out that he was right and so asked Crawford what was up, which was received by a finger in the air. Which finger that was will be imagined.

"Report," Crawford commanded. He didn't look at the German. He only continued typing, working, weaving plans. After all, they were free of Esset now.

"Weiss wouldn't speed things up unless they knew people were in danger. So, let's just say there are a lot less people to put in danger now."

There was a thoughtful silence, and then, "Specify."

Schuldich sighed; he grew weary of one-worded answers. "Farfarello pitted the blame on the scientists for murders, I took care of some suicides, and Nagi was the natural deathage. Buried some hundreds in avalanches." When he received another sullen silence, he grew bold and asked, "So... why do you want that syringe from Abyssinian?" There was another interlude. "Are they... drugs?"

"No," Crawford answered.

"Poison?"

"No."

Nothing was said between the two of them for some time. Tension built. Schuldich was sure that was what Crawford intended. "Well, what is it then?" Schuldich asked, not bothering to mask his agitation.

"You seem pretty good at finding out for yourself."

With that, Schuldich just stalked out of the room and headed back to the Koneko. He was angry, and didn't realize that that was Crawford's work, looming the present and future to his will, with but warnings and subliminal hints. He said what his pawn needed only to hear. The King of demons. And Schuldich was a demon. This time, it would be just a little more personal than the last trip, a little more intimate.

Schuldich had Fujimiya pinned to the wall. "What's with this syringe Crawford wants?" he demanded, probing into the assassin's mind. There was only confusion and madness in there.

"I don't know. Why don't you ask him yourself? I don't know why he would want my medicine!!" Ran would have spat at Schuldich, if only he weren't dropped right to the floor.

Schuldich turned and rubbed his chin. "What kind of medicine is it?" he asked.

"It's... it's... Hey! Why can't you just find out for yourself?" With that, he whipped out his sword from nowhere, like he tends to do from time to time, and jumped at Schuldich who seemed to teleport across the room.

Schuldich didn't chuckle. No, he was almost bursting his sides from laughing. "It's Ritalin?" He laughed. "You can't swallow pills, so they give you shots to inject yourself with!" He laughed even harder. "You have Adult ADD!" He stopped laughing. "I know that that's a very serious condition, but," he began laughing again, "an assassin with it! And not just any assassin, it's got to be Ran Fujimiya, of Weiss! It's just so funny!" He sobered again, becoming so very suddenly thoughtful. But... why... why would Crawford want Ritalin? There's something odd... about Abyssinian's mind... Perhaps it's the drugs...

Ran had stood for this long enough. He threw his sword at Schuldich and ran to his room to cry. It wasn't like he could help what happened to him. It wasn't like he could help what kind of medication his doctor gave him for his depression. He needed to focus sometimes too, just like everybody else.

Schuldich was gone when he next emerged, his face dry and emotionless. He knew enough to take this encounter and keep it filed away in his mind for the future. Somehow... their mission was dealing with Schwarz, as they did more often these days.

To Be Continued...