The Weiss Kreuz Picture Show
A Weiss Kreuz fanfiction by laila

Part Two: Let's Do the Time Warp Again

Ken wasn't that fond of driving cars. He certainly wasn't fond of driving the car he was currently in which screamed 'I have been borrowed from an older relative'. Left to himself he would far rather have taken his bike and had Omi do likewise but, what with the threat of rain taken into account, it hadn't seemed like such a great idea. Besides, he was on almost-maybe-could-this-possibly-be-called-a-date? with Omi which was both exhilarating and embarrassing at the same time. Was it polite to expect your date to want to ride a motorbike in the middle of a storm? It certainly wasn't conducive to conversation. Then again, nor was concentrating on trying to drive an aging car in the middle of a rainstorm.

A biker zipped past the window. Ken just about managed not to mutter 'lucky bastard' under his breath.

Next to him, Omi fidgeted nervously and fiddled with the tuning knob on the radio, trying futilely to find, amongst the static, dull discussion programs, symphonies full of doom-filled violins and wall-to-wall J-pop, a station which wouldn't make him want to rip his ears off. As he searched, a biker zipped past the window. What with the rain and Ken's struggles with the car, he didn't want to risk a conversation.

Yet another biker zipped past the window and Omi sighed. They should have taken their own bikes. It would have made more sense than borrowing this wretched car.

"Why are we in this car?" Omi asked finally.
"Now that," Ken muttered, squinting through the rain-smeared windshield at the road, "is the million-dollar question. Why are we in this car?" Misguided chivalry, perhaps?
"I hoped you'd know that." Omi said with a sigh. "I mean, it's not like there aren't people out there on motorbikes. I've seen three bikers already…"

Ken glanced across at him briefly and smiled, but he didn't reply. With conversation so scintillating and witty it hardly seemed worth trying to maintain the same high standard. He went back to staring out of the window at the road, not terribly happy with its blackness and general lack of illumination, all the while wondering just where the hell he thought he was taking Omi anyway. This was no night to be out. A night in was sounding more and more attractive by the minute.

Omi, who had been staring out of the side window at the rain, looked round again when he realized they had stopped moving, the engine idling. The car's headlights were illuminating a field and a hand-lettered sign reading 'Dead End' tacked to a rotting wooden fence.

"What's going on?" He asked, blinking and gratefully turning the radio off. "Are we lost?"
Ken nodded. "Either that or someone's moved the roads around. Yes, we're lost."
"I didn't think this looked right," Omi muttered, "but did you listen?"
"Yeah, yeah, don't rub it in…" Ken blinked as a thought occurred to him. "Hey, if this is a dead end then where'd the bikers come from? Do they grow them out there or something?"

Omi ignored him. Much as he adored Ken, sometimes the best, nay only thing to do with him was ignore him. He sighed and dug in the glove compartment, pulling out a road map and a packet of chocolate pocky. He slipped a piece of the pocky between his lips as he unfurled the map, frowning as he tried to orient himself. The map was rotated two or three times as the boy pored over it, finally coming to the conclusion that he didn't know where they were and they were lost. Next to him, Ken leant back in his seat and gazed disconsolately out at the night. For a while the only sound was the rustling of paper.

"What do you say we forget the whole thing, go back home and order a pizza or something?" Ken asked finally. "This is getting more and more stupid by the minute. I don't want to see Persia anyway, he'd only ruin the evening by asking us to kill someone…"
"Agreed." Omi said, glad Ken had been the first to say it. "Let's go back, Ken-kun. This is a dumb idea."
Ken nodded purposefully, relieved. "Then let's get out of here, okay?"

Which was a nice idea, not to mention a good idea, but an idea which, sadly, would be doomed to failure. Bare seconds after Ken had put the car into reverse one of the wheels skidded in the mud and, with an audible bang, gave up the ghost. Inside the car gave a shudder and listed alarmingly to one side. Omi yelped whilst Ken muttered a few interesting curse-words and turned the engine off. For a moment the couple simply stared at one another, both rather more alarmed than they would have cared to admit even to each other, until Ken, as was his wont, broke the silence.

"I'm hoping that was a tire and not the engine."
"I don't think it was the engine." Omi said logically. "I can't see any smoke or smell anything bad. Um… do we have a spare?"
"We should have." Ken said hopefully. "Um. Wait here, okay?"

Omi waited in silence for a few anxious moments as Ken, shrugging on his jacket, ducked out of the car and into a torrential downpour. After no more than a minute or two he reappeared, already soaked and looking rather peeved. Slamming the door shut behind him and sitting tentatively on the edge of the seat, Ken raked his wet hair from his eyes and sighed.

"No joy?" Omi asked nervously.
"Spare tire," Ken said simply, "no jack."
"Well, we've still got a mobile," Omi dug in the dashboard again, retrieving a cel phone and turning it on. He looked down at it for an expectant moment, only to drop it in his lap in disgust. "There's no signal. Well, we are in the back of beyond out here…"
"Isn't that just fucking typical." Ken said wearily, resting his forehead on the steering wheel. "Looks like we're stuck here."

There was a brief and awkward silence as Omi gazed nervously around himself and Ken tried to fall asleep sitting up. The weather chose that moment to do atmospheric and creepy things around them. A bolt of lightning bisected the sky and hit a nearby tree, which sizzled half-heartedly. If it was at all possible, the rain appeared to be getting worse.

"Well…" Omi said tentatively after a few silent minutes had passed, "We could go for help. I saw this castle thingy a few miles back. And maybe the phone'll work better somewhere else."
Ken raised his head. "For real? Well, it beats sitting here waiting. You stay here and I'll go."
Omi giggled, surprised. "Ken-kun, it's sweet of you but you don't know where it is. I'm going too."
"I'll follow the road." Ken said hopelessly optimistically. "There's no point you getting soaked too. I mean, at least I'm wet already. It doesn't bother me if I get wetter."
Omi shook his head. "I'm coming too. I don't want you wandering round out there alone. It's safer if we stick together. Don't you watch horror films? Bad things always happen when people split up!"
"Yeah, I've watched horror films, Omi." Ken said dourly. Jesus, no wonder this situation was giving him the creeps – the whole 'car breaks down on isolated road on rainy night' thing was a scenario straight out of every cheesy horror film ever made and he wanted no part in it. "Which is why I don't want you going to that castle. Come on, a freaky evil castle out in the middle of nowhere? There's bound to be something weird going on there and I'd rather you didn't have to deal with it."
Omi pouted determinedly. "I'm a trained killer, Ken-kun. We'll handle whatever it is together, okay?" All the same, Omi couldn't help but wish he'd thought to stick his assassin gear in the trunk along with the spare tire and nonexistent jack.

Omi had that look in his eyes, leaving Ken with nothing to do but to give in gracefully. Capitulating (and secretly rather glad for the company), he stepped back out of the car, turning up the collar of his already damp leather jacket and gazing pensively down the gloomy road. They should have stayed home. Behind him, Omi scrambled from the car and tugged his own jacket around himself, huddling into it. The rain lashed at his bare legs as he slammed the car door and hurried over to join Ken.

"Okay?" Omi asked, his usually indomitable smile wavering slightly.
Ken nodded. "Sure." And he slipped his arm round Omi's shoulders, as if hoping to protect him from the worst of the weather; or maybe he just wanted to hold him. Another clap of thunder burst overhead and Ken glanced up at the sky, though there was nothing to see. Just clouds and rain and tree branches and more rain. This really was turning into one hell of an evening. Oh well, it'd be a talking point in later life…

Ken didn't know how right he was. But let him live in happy ignorance for a short while longer.

Exchanging anxious smiles, the pair hurried down the road in the direction of the castle. Though they both would have denied it if the other had called them on it, the atmosphere was working on them both. Omi, nervous, crept a little closer to Ken. He hated to admit it (he was a boy, after all) but having Ken close made him feel a little better. Not much but a little, and in circumstances such as these an individual took what comfort they could wherever they found it.

'In The Weird Place Over There'

Omi:
God, why am I out here
In this pouring rain?
It's insane
Like a parody.
As if we're stuck in a B-movie.

Ken and Omi:
There's a light

Phantom Voices:
In the weird place over there.

Ken:
There's a light

Phantom Voices:
In the cupboard under the stair.

Omi:
There's a light, a light
In the darkness of a creepy cliché of a night.

They walked through the grounds of the castle and toward the drive, passed on their way by three more motorcyclists, riding in convoy – once again, Ken wished he hadn't bothered with the car. The castle itself loomed in the middle distance. The place hadn't looked at all hospitable from the road; it would have been nice if, closer to, things had been different but it wasn't. The only visible lights came from a strange glass observatory on the roof, and a small window in a high turret. In short, it looked every inch the typical spooky house. Ken wanted to bolt and if it hadn't been for Omi he might well have done.

Ken:
Things are getting weird
Why, I have no clue.
What to do?
Should we leave things lie?
God knows I don't want to
See you die.

Ken and Omi:
There's a light

Phantom Voices:
In the weird place over there.

Ken:
There's a light

Phantom Voices:
In the cupboard under the stair.

Ken:
There's a light, a light
In the darkness of a creepy cliché of a night.

In a single lighted turret window, a silhouetted figure looked down on the couple and rested his forehead against the glass. Shadows played eerily over his face, which would have made him look cadaverous and malign if his even, handsome features had taken to eerie shadow. As if he knew he couldn't manage the 'cadaverous' thing, the young man made up for it by going for broke on the 'malign' angle. He looked dangerously knowing. He smiled. Everything was proceeding as he had foreseen…

Crawford:
I'm cool and refined
And who knows quite what I'm scheming?
Fear's what you'll find
In the patterns of life's dreaming.
Step into the night.
Into the night.

As they were far too busy being drenched, Ken and Omi didn't notice his shadow as they started to move down the drive, sticking close. Rain dripped off the trees and thunder burst overhead. Again.

Ken and Omi:
There's a light

Phantom Voices:
In the weird place over there.

Ken and Omi:
There's a light

Phantom Voices:
In the cupboard under the stair.

Ken and Omi:
There's a light, a light
In the darkness of a creepy cliché of a night.

"So." Manx said dramatically, posed heavily behind her blotter and wishing she was a pipe smoker – for some reason puffing dramatically on a pipe seemed a good idea – as she looked up from her once-again open dossier, "it appeared Dame Fortune was looking benevolently on the plight of our heroes."

(Though Manx didn't think Omi or even the optimistic Ken believed that for a moment. Omi hadn't looked overwhelmed with joy as he walked to the house and as for Ken, the closer they got the more obvious it became that he was worried both for Omi and for himself and was pretending he wasn't. Omi's presence, Manx knew, would be helping him keep face but all the same that boy obviously did not want to be where he was. Not unarmed, anyway.)

"Indeed, it seemed that Ken and Omi had found the assistance their plight required… or had they?" She leant forward urgently in her chair. The answer to the rhetorical question was obviously not because then there'd be no story. "For fortune can be a fickle mistress indeed…"

Smiling calculatingly, Manx marked her place and closed the book. Things were about to get interesting.

"It's like something out of a horror film." Ken said, looking up at the castle from beneath a curtain of wet hair. "I mean… it's really like something from a horror film."
Omi shivered slightly. "Maybe we should go back to the car…" he began.
Which was exactly what Ken was thinking. "Yeah. I don't like the look of this one bit. We can bear with it for a night, can't we?"
"I'm sure we can." Omi took a pace back, then abruptly changed his mind. "But we've come all this way and we're both drenched, so we might as well see if they've got a phone."
"Whatever." Ken said wearily.

With one last uncertain glance at Omi, he reached out and rung the doorbell. He wasn't in the mood for a long debate on the merits and demerits of the idea. If Omi wanted to look for a phone then that was what they'd do – he was quite happy to step back and let the younger boy make the running. Though he wished he'd held out for going back to the car when he actually heard the sound the bell made. It didn't sound a bit like a doorbell.

The couple exchanged an anxious glance. In so doing, Omi realized that Ken looked as if he had fallen into a service canal or had decided to go swimming in his clothes and was in no fit state to be paying any kind of visit to anybody. Some similar realization was dawning on Ken vis-à-vis Omi. They both wondered briefly what the hell they thought they were doing – it had to be brief, interrupted as it was by the sound of footsteps approaching down an uncarpeted entrance hall.

The sound of a bolt being drawn back. A squeak of poorly-oiled hinges. "Hello."

Omi took a pace back, startled, as he clapped eyes on the figure standing in the doorway. Ken blinked and frowned. The man, known by most simply as Crawford, was tall, dark and cruelly handsome. Though the black suit and tie he wore was rather shabby, he wore it well, like a man who had been accustomed to rather better things. His short, jet-black hair was neatly groomed and fell out of his eyes; the glasses that he wore gave him an air of intelligence. His entire demeanor was that of a man who knew too much for anyone to be comfortable in his presence, a man who, too, was aware of that fact and reveled in it. He made Ken and Omi feel very uncomfortable indeed, and very aware of their own disheveled state.

"Um, hi." Ken said finally, feeling the onus was on him to break the silence. "My name's Ken Hidaka and this is… um…" He colored slightly, wondering how to describe his connection to Omi to this tall, severe man with his cunning eyes and knife-blade smile. This is my boyfriend? My partner? Associate? Close friend? Companion? Lover? Fuck buddy I've yet to fuck? "This is Omi Tsukiyono." He said finally, grinning uncomfortably. "I like him. I'm sorry to bother you by calling so late but do you have a phone we could use? The car's bust and we're stranded."
Crawford looked from Ken to Omi and then back to Ken, his gaze flatly assessing, before speaking again.
"You're wet," he said, in the manner of one enunciating a great truth.
This was too much for Ken. "Of course we're bloody wet!" He exclaimed.
Omi giggled anxiously. "Ssh, Ken-kun!" He gave Crawford an anxious, but still sweet smile. "We left the car about two miles back and the rain's been very heavy." He said finally.
"Yes." Ken said, as if to back him up.
"Yes." Crawford echoed.
"Yes." Omi said with desperate brightness.

The whole lost-and-found quasi-conversation could have become unbelievably silly if fate, in the shape of a bolt of lightening, hadn't intervened by illuminating a row of motorbikes parked by the castle-house-monstrosity. Ken noticed them and Crawford noticed that he'd noticed, his gaze suddenly becoming steely. Omi just blinked; he hadn't seen a thing.

"Oh, so all the bikers were going here?" Ken said, surprised. Crawford gave him a dire look and he blinked again. "What?"
"You'd both better come in." Crawford said expressively, stepping back and pushing the door open a little wider, leaving just enough room for the newcomers to step inside.
"Thank you." Omi replied, looking apprehensively round himself. "You're very kind."
Ken looked mystified. "Did I say something wrong?"

He followed Omi in anyway, sticking close to the boy but looking round himself in something approaching curiosity as they entered the hall. If the place had looked every inch the typical horror-movie spooky house from the outside, inside the impression was only strengthened. Ken noted heavy, moth-eaten curtains, antique furniture, cracked, dust-furred mirrors, a skeleton in a coffin, a portrait of an old farmer and his wife in dramatically drab clothing, candles everywhere. Who the hell lived like this?

Omi, however, had noticed the music.

"Ken-kun," he whispered, "what do you think this place is?"
Ken shrugged. "Some kind of EGL holiday home, perhaps." He said, looking suspiciously at the skeleton in its coffin. "Or maybe it's a playboy pad for the world's weirdest bachelor." Hearing that, Crawford gave Ken another quick, sharp glance. He didn't think he was going to like this kid.
Omi giggled in spite of himself. "I think it's a private house. The décor is kind of on the personal side."

The pair fell silent again as they followed the determinedly dour Crawford down the hallway, Omi getting the distinct impression that he and Ken (who had stopped short to stare at the painting of the farmers, curiosity written plainly in his expressive brown eyes) were intruding on something. Crawford had a preoccupied air, as if their interruption had come whilst he was in the middle of something very important and he was now heading back to get on with whatever it was regardless of their presence. If he was busy, Omi theorized, wouldn't it be in his best interests to show them to the phone straight away so that they could get out of here and he could get on with… well, whatever it was?

"We're not interrupting anything, are we?" Omi asked nervously. Ken, looking over his shoulder at the boy and realizing the others were several feet down the hall, quickly left the painting and hurried back over to Omi's side. There was safety in numbers. When Crawford didn't answer Omi tried again. "Are you giving a party or something?"
"Or something." Ken said, clearly feeling that was rather more likely than a party.
"No." Crawford suddenly stopped short; Ken nearly walked into him. "You've arrived on rather a special night. The master is having one of his affairs."
"Affairs?" Ken echoed. "You mean like extramarital sex? That kind of affair?"
"No I'm sure that's not what he means Ken-kun!" Omi hissed. Aloud, forcing himself to smile at the dour Crawford and rather disappointed when the man's indifferent expression still didn't change an iota, he said, rather lamely he felt, "Oh, how nice for him." He didn't really know what else to say and hoped against hope that Ken wouldn't either. This whole set-up was odd, very odd indeed, and Omi felt it keenly. The Master? Who was the Master? He didn't really want to know the answer to that last question. Ignorance, in this case, was most assuredly bliss.
"Isn't it though?"

Omi started. Ken raised his head and his eyes widened in surprise. They hadn't noticed the third party on the stairway, though said third party had clearly noticed them.

The figure was tall, slender and dressed, like Crawford, in a black suit which, though of an expensive and elegant cut which flattered his lithe form perfectly, had seen better days. His white shirt, however, was open almost to the navel and had an alarmingly flamboyant collar and cuffs. The apron he wore didn't really suit him but he didn't seem to care. His long, paprika-red hair, though ostensibly held back with a plain white bandana, tumbled in artful disarray around his almost feline face. Schuldich was smiling.

As Omi and Ken watched the young man jumped onto the banister, sliding down it and, one hand resting on the decorative post at the start of the stair rail, leant over to look at the pair of them, putting himself alarmingly into their personal space. Omi stepped away in startled dismay; Ken placed his hands on the boy's shoulders.

"Um, hi." Ken said nervily to fill the silence that followed. "Do you know where the phone is?"
Schuldich chose to ignore him. "Of course it's nice." He said, directing his expansive, feral grin at Omi and making the boy squeak in surprise. "For you, for us, for everybody."

Omi flushed and moved a little closer to Ken, who was staring between Crawford and Schuldich in some confusion. Just what, exactly, was going on here? He was beginning to wonder if these people even had a telephone – a ridiculous thing to think in this day and age, but he'd certainly seen no sign of one. Maybe it was one of those old-fashioned ones…

Omi, meanwhile, wrenched his gaze away with some effort from the clearly quite insane Schuldich and instead looked imploringly at Crawford, wide blue eyes beseeching. It was a sight which touched Ken's heart; too bad Omi wasn't hoping for anything from Ken and Crawford didn't seem to have noticed that he was being looked at imploringly by a bona fide blonde bishounen. Crawford, in fact, was beginning to look a little peculiar.

"Ken-kun?" Omi whispered. "What are they doing?"
"Not a clue." Ken said simply. "But I don't think it's got anything to do with the phone…"

'The Time Warp'

Crawford:
It's essential
Is this number
Madness ain't my thing.
It's far from tasteful,

Schuldich:
Crawford, why not surrender?

Crawford:
I just can't keep it in.

And, that being said, Bradley Crawford launched into a wild dance. Schuldich sprang from the banister and joined him, grinning like an even more demented Cheshire Cat. Ken looked at the pair in absolute incredulity until, unable to quite believe what he was seeing, he placed one hand to his own forehead as if testing for a temperature. "Omi, you're the smart one… what the fuck is going on here?" "That's a really good question, Ken-kun!" Omi said, his voice high and panicked. He realized, much to his own discomfiture, that he had started clinging to Ken.

Crawford:
I remember doing the Time Warp
And never you two mind quite when,
It's rather arousing

Crawford and Schuldich:
Hell, it's almost a calling.

Crawford threw open the double doors in front of them revealing an immense Gothic ballroom packed full of guests, all of whom were dressed in bizarre evening wear – mainly women in skimpy dresses but there were plenty of hangers-on and even one person who actually lived there. A banner strung across the room proclaimed the crowd to be attendees of the Third Annual Kudou Convention, all busily engaged in letting their hair down. They gazed up at the figures at the doors in rapture, raising their hands to them.

Guests:
Let's do the Time Warp again.
Let's do the Time Warp again.

At which point the guests broke into a choreographed step which managed to be almost, but not entirely, obscene. Omi, with the horrible feeling that he and Ken had somehow managed to walk in on an orgy, clung so tightly to Ken he fancied he heard the older boy mutter a small, soft 'ouch' under his breath.

Meanwhile, alone in her study, Manx unreeled a large chart of the dance steps and, brandishing a pointy stick like a demented weathergirl, was pointing to each of them in turn.

Manx:
It's just a jump to the left.

Guests:
And then a step to the ri-i-i-ight.

Manx:
With your hands on your hips.

Guests:
You bring your knees in tight.
But it's the pelvic thrust
That really drives you insane.

Let's do the Time Warp again.
Let's do the Time Warp again.

By this point, Ken and Omi had somehow ended up in the ballroom proper. Neither, it had to be said, was exactly thrilled by the development. Omi didn't think he had ever been more embarrassed in his life whilst Ken was staring at the dancers with the same air of guilty fascination as that of a man witnessing a jumbo jet crash. He knew he shouldn't be looking, but he couldn't seem to make himself turn away.

Schuldich:
My name means 'guilty'
And you betcha it suits me
You can't hide from me
When I can get inside your mind.
My ways are mysterious
And I'm just fucking devious
I'm sadistic; it's okay.

Omi gave a small, soft sound. Ken looked down and was surprised and consternated to see that the boy had buried his head in his bomber jacket. Was Omi that uncomfortable? Well so was Ken but in the absence of anyone to cling to or hide behind he was having to cope. He settled for putting his arms protectively around Omi and staring around the ballroom. What the hell? No, really… what the hell?

Schuldich:
I'll put your mind in a muddle
I'm nothing but trouble
Guess what? I'm not exactly sane.
'Cause I love the sensation
Of another's frustration.

Guests:
Let's do the Time Warp again.
Let's do the Time Warp again.

And then there was Nagi. Somber, serious-minded Nagi Naoe was sitting on top of a jukebox wearing hot pants, a silly jacket and an unflattering hat, utterly failing to look even slightly carefree. How could anyone manage to wear so many sequins and yet so little clothing? He didn't look himself at all.

Nagi:
You know I'm pretty damn dour
For a boy of fifteen
Inside I hate the world
In public I'm serene.
I could make you drop dead
With the power of my mind
And let it never be said
That I'm remotely kind.
I've a sensitive side,
But it's hidden quite well
Why'm I angsty –
I'm not going to tell.

Guests:
Let's do the Time Warp again.
Let's do the Time Warp again.

In the study, Manx had become rather involved in the dance. The chart and pointer long since forgotten, she had scrambled onto her blotter and was now enthusiastically joining in with the steps, so much so it was a wonder she wasn't knocking the desk's contents flying or launching himself onto the carpet.

Manx:
It's just a jump to the left.

Guests:
And then a step to the ri-i-i-ight.

Manx:
With your hands on your hips.

Guests:
You bring your knees in tight.
But it's the pelvic thrust
That really drives you insane.

Ken looked down at Omi, who was still hugging him as if his life depended on it. "Hey, Omi? I really can't believe this is street legal."
Omi glanced up at the dancers and flushed. "It might be illegal if we were in public." He murmured. "Ken-kun, do you think the police would believe a word of this if I—"
"No." Ken said quickly. "I don't and I'm here. Besides, that would involve getting to a phone…"

Guests:
Let's do the Time Warp again.
Let's do the Time Warp again.

Then, as if things weren't weird enough, Nagi made them that one bit weirder by launching into a rather wooden tap routine, his stern expression not changing one little bit as he danced stiffly across the floor to the whoops and catcalls of the crowd. Inevitably it ended with Nagi tripping and getting back to his feet with a look of martyred dignity on his grave face. Ken tried to check his own temperature again.

Guests:
Let's do the Time Warp again.
Let's do the Time Warp again.

Manx:
It's just a jump to the left.

Guests:
And then a step to the ri-i-i-ight.

Manx:
With your hands on your hips.

Guests:
You bring your knees in tight.
But it's the pelvic thrust
That really drives you insane.

With the dance reaching a climax, Omi had finally lifted his head from Ken's chest and, tightly clutching the lapels of the taller boy's jacket, was gazing at the chaos, eyes immense and startled. Ken, at a loss, had his arms protectively around Omi's shoulders but his attention had been caught by the entangled figures of Crawford and Schuldich, dancing together with a wild, sensual, almost wanton abandon. He found it hard to believe that anyone could get much more blatantly sexual whilst still keeping all their clothes on. And Ken, God help him, was actually getting rather interested.

Guests:
Let's do the Time Warp again.
Let's do the Time Warp again.

Then as the music wound down, as if a battery somewhere had gracelessly died, everyone collapsed.