The Weiss Kreuz Picture Show Chapter 4: One From the Vaults, a weiss kreuz fanfic

The Weiss Kreuz Picture Show
A Weiss Kreuz fanfiction by laila

Part Four: One From the Vaults…

He was pale and redheaded, with long, piercing violet eyes set in a heartbreakingly beautiful face. He was tall, too, and slender, but – no waif, he – athletically built, his muscles nicely defined. And he wore high black leather boots, wrist-length gloves, also in black, a single long gold earring and a pair of the very briefest black briefs. And absolutely nothing else.

The briefs, admittedly, had been going to be gold, but Youji had thought that seeing as the creation was so pale the black might make a nice contrast next to all that porcelain skin. The playboy had, of course, been utterly right. Oh, Youji thought the young man looked good enough to devour, and in this the playboy was, of course, utterly right as well. This man was sex on legs, and the legs were pretty damn good as well. This was why, although he was currently lying in a crumpled heap at the foot of the tank, staring at the spectacle of masculine perfection perched on the edge of the tank from a position of power on the floor, he didn't feel too upset with how the evening was turning out.

Youji could tell that everyone in the room was staring at this hunk of loveliness whom he (he!) had created all for his very own and fantasizing about doing all the naughty things that he (he!) was going to do with him the minute he got him by himself, and God wasn't Youji absolutely thrilled!

Everyone, that was, with the possible exception of Ken. Ken had spotted Omi staring at Youji's creation in open-mouthed amazement and so he was too busy feeling angry, resentful and far too short to pay much attention of the redhead's superlative loveliness, except of course as a cause of an attack of the Green-Eyed Monsters (How come this guy got to be tall, pale, mysterious and coldly gorgeous with it whilst he'd ended up the typical, even prototypical boy next door? It wasn't fair!). Which is how complexes start.

Standing, Youji gazed lovingly up at the figure on the tank and gave him a winning, come-hither smile. The creation didn't go thither but Youji wasn't the least bit phased.

"Vengeance later." Youji said with a significant smile, which the creation utterly failed to understand the significance of. "We have more important things to accomplish first."
The creation looked bewildered. Was there anything more important than his revenge? What was this bizarre man talking about? What was going on here anyway? He covered his confusion the best way he knew how – by forcing a Leveling Glare of Icy Death onto his face and trying to glower himself into unsympathetic isolation. Youji ignored the Death Glare too.

"Isn't he perfect?" Youji said to the room at large. "I just love success." He laughed pointlessly. "I'd say I'd done well, wouldn't you? Aya, how about I give you the… the ultimate test?"

("Aya?" Schuldich muttered.
("That must be his name." Nagi replied softly.)

Stood at the bottom of the ladder, he reached out one hand to his creation. There was an extremely pregnant pause as the creation regarded said hand as if he had been offered a small dead fish, but after a beat he reluctantly took it and allowed Youji to lead him down the ladder and back to the floor, where he commenced gazing around himself with a certain kind of stumped curiosity. Youji, still smiling, led him over to his servants, who had formed a receiving line.

"But first I'd like you to meet the staff." Youji said graciously, one hand on the creation's shoulder. "This is Crawford. Butler, handyman and resident precognitive." Youji gave Crawford an objectionable smile then stepped back to let he and Aya gaze sternly at one another. "Well, say hello, Crawford."
"Hello, Aya." Crawford said in scrupulously bored tones.
"Hello, Crawford." Aya replied equally frostily.
Youji laughed. "You sound like you've really hit it off… now Aya? This is Schuldich. He's the maid, I think. He's also a telepath, so don't be surprised if he tries to mess with your mind. Just ignore him if he does, it's the best way."
Schuldich grinned maliciously. "Hi, Aya."
Aya fixed him with a gimlet glower, hoping to phase him. It didn't seem to work. "Hello, Schuldich."
"And finally," Youji said, "Last but not least… Nagi. Telekinetic. Other than that, I'm not really sure what he does here unless it's make up the numbers."
Nagi looked as if he wanted to say something, but bit it back. "Good evening, Aya." He said stiffly.
"Hello, Nagi." Aya said.
Youji smiled. "Okay, now that the introductions are over… Crawford. What do you think?"

He dragged the quietly uncooperative Aya back over to Crawford again, a death grip on his upper arm as if to deter anyone else in the room from getting any ideas. It was perhaps no bad idea, considering at least one of the guests – most notably the little brunette who had taken Omi's damp clothes – looked as if they were about ready to explode with excitement at the sight of Aya's near-naked beauty.

Crawford gave Aya an assessing look. He was rather surprised to realize that he was actually impressed. "He is a credit to your genius, master." He said, a note of genuine approval in his voice.
"Why, thank you." Youji said cheerfully.
"A triumph of your will." Schuldich added, deciding to toe the party line for once.
"Of course." Youji replied. "What else would he be?"
Nagi shrugged. "He's okay."

Youji looked peeved at such equivocation. He gave Nagi a deeply dissatisfied frown which rolled off the boy like water off the obligatory duck's back, and huffily began to cast around the place for somebody else to ask, his gaze alighting on his two unexpected guests. He'd utterly forgotten about them both in the excitement of the moment. Now stood side-by-side, Omi once again clutching the top of his dust coat to try and hold it together, they watched the… goings-on in quiet bemusement, or at least Omi had been. Ken looked as if there was something on his mind.

"Ken-kun?" Omi murmured. "You've gone very quiet. What's the matter?"
Ken looked at him dubiously, then decided to face up to it. "Do you think I'm too short?"
"No." Omi said honestly. "Really, Ken-kun, what brought this on?"

Ken didn't reply and so Omi remained blissfully oblivious of the fact that the reason was stood in front of them in tiny black underpants and that Ken would have been a lot happier had he stopped staring at him. Worse, said reason was due to be shoved under their noses by the glory-hunting Youji any minute; the lanky blonde was dead set on asking them what they thought of his beautiful creation.

"You two." Youji said with a smile. "What do you make of Aya?"
"He annoys me." Ken said immediately; he had obviously decided to go with the first thought which sprung to mind, no matter how stupid it made him sound. "Why go to all this trouble anyway? Wouldn't it be easier to go to a bar and pick someone up or fill out a personals ad or something?"
Youji raised his eyebrows and laughed softly. "He annoys you. Does he, indeed. What's the matter with Aya, Kenken? Does he make you feel vulnerable?" Ken went red and said nothing. Youji took the chance to give him another suggestive look before turning to Omi. "And you?"

Omi fidgeted. How was he supposed to answer that question? Maybe he would have felt better about it had Ken not been there, or if he'd known that Ken had been in the same heavy denial over Youji's allure as he was now in over Youji's creation. Quickly sneaking a guilty glance at Ken (he loved Ken. He really did. But Ken was… well, Ken, and there was something about the look in Aya's eyes and the redhead's sculpted, nearly naked body which Omi… responded to, God knew what it was or why it happened but he responded. Aya called to something within him and made him think things, like Ken in his underwear did. Maybe, Omi thought, I have a secret penchant for young men in their underwear?), he tried desperately to find something to say which wouldn't compromise him in front of his lover.

"Um…" Omi stuttered, "I, um… don't go for redheads!"
"That's okay." Youji replied with a worrying smirk. "I didn't make him for you."
"Oh! I never said you did!" Omi said quickly, blushing and grabbing one of Ken's hands in both of his own in a desperate attempt to prove that he had no designs on Aya and was quite happy with Ken thank you very much. Did it convince Omi? It certainly didn't seem to convince Ken.

Youji, hands on his hips, smiled. The crowd were going absolutely wild, some of them wilder than others – the little brunette had thrown herself against the railing of the upper tier, her eyes never once leaving Aya – the servants approved (well, largely, but two out of three wasn't bad with those guys), Omi wanted Aya badly and Ken was clearly ravingly jealous both of Aya's astonishing beauty and the fact that Omi was looking at him so longingly, all of which combined to make him feel massively insecure. Yes, all in all it was a very satisfying response.

'I Can Make You a Ran'

Youji:
Aya's beauty is
A sight for sore eyes
But to learn there's much more
Should come as no surprise.
For if he has his way
Takatori will pay
And he acts just because
It will further his cause.

As the guests watched, Crawford picked up a large katana wrapped in shiny cellophane which he handed to Youji, only for the blonde to hand it to Aya with a flourish. Aya took it enthusiastically, immediately tugging it free of the cellophane. The minute his hand grasped the hilt he flowed into a classic sword form, gaze grimly set. Omi squeaked in surprise.

Youji:
But he's a – thank you –
Sublime mystery
I'll even admit
He's a closed book to me.

There's a lot
Which we can't see.

He's enigmatic—
Oh honey

Youji, Servants and Guests:
But charismatic!

Youji began to circle Aya, who moved gracefully from one form to the next. He made posing with the sword look easy. In spite of his extreme undress, the redhead looked positively lethal. That didn't seem to bother Youji, who was surveying him with a lustful gleam in his bedroom eyes. Crawford and Schuldich exchanged another glance. Even Ken had absolutely no trouble working out what was going through the blonde's mind now.

Youji:
Don't ask him a question
I doubt he'll reply.
He'll only ever get angry
God knows he won't cry.

Christ, he's stubborn!
Why, I can't understand
But in just seven days,

Youji, Servants and Guests:
I can make you a Ra-a-a-an.

Youji was now hovering a lot closer to Aya than could be considered at all safe given that he was brandishing a three-foot-long katana with a wickedly sharp blade. Omi drew closer to Ken again, nervous. What happened if Aya's hand slipped? Well, maybe then they could get out of here. Okay, what happened if Aya's hand didn't slip? That was the more worrying prospect by far.

Youji:
He may try to kill you
If you catch him off-guard.
He's not good with people
He's brutal and hard.

But he's gorgeous
So I don't give a damn,
'Cause in just seven days,
Oh baby…

I can make you a Ra-a-a-an!

Youji laughed a pointless laugh. There was another small, embarrassed pause in which Ken and Omi traded their five hundredth nonplussed glance of the evening, discovering in doing so they were both similarly bewildered, confused and essentially disbelieving; the servants looked relieved that the paean of praise had stopped. The silence didn't have the chance to stretch out of control though as it was broken by a small creaking noise, which had Schuldich looking sharply round himself to try and work out where it was coming from, then at the others to see if anyone else had heard it. They had.

"What was that?" Ken asked, but got no reply except for another, slightly louder, squeaky creaky noise, and then another.
Youji looked round in irritation. "Crawford, whatever that is, make it shut up."
Crawford frowned, then cleared his throat. "Ah… Master, I don't know if that's going to be possible. It sounds like something's falling."

At Crawford's comment Schuldich, who had been lounging on the inexplicable cell doorway, stiffened, and practically threw himself away from the door and into Crawford's arms, nearly knocking the tall American to the floor.

This action remained utterly inexplicable, not to mention terrible for Schuldich's cool and collected image, until the heavy, iron-bound cell door fell open like a drawbridge bare moments later, landing on the spot Schuldich had only recently been stood with a heavy, definite thump. Totally unconcerned by how close his companion had come to discovering the truth about the existence or otherwise of the afterlife, Nagi walked up and peered expectantly into the now open cell. Ken and Omi followed his gaze, at first unable to see anything at all. That didn't last. When they saw what, or rather who the cell had contained, both Ken and Omi wished quite fervently that it had.

It wouldn't have been right to describe the scarred, pale, bandaged man which stumbled from the cell as wild-eyed, nor would it have been right to say he blinked in the unexpected light. He only had the one eye, and that eye was blank and utterly devoid of reason. His single mad eye was yellow, his hair pure white and his skin only a shade or two darker. He was either very unlucky or an albino – it wasn't easy to say which. Even without the scars that criss-crossed his pale skin and the bloody lobotomy mark scored across his forehead he would have been an absolutely terrifying spectacle, just the kind of thing you wouldn't want to meet in a dark alleyway on a moonless night. Or, indeed, anywhere.

Omi took one look at the thing and screamed, clinging to Ken.

"Who the fuck is that?!" Ken shouted, clutching Omi tightly to him and staring at the scarred figure in utter horror.
Before anyone could reply, Nagi answered for them all. "Farfarello!" He shrieked, looking enthused about something for the first time that evening, and practically hurled himself at the white-haired horror, clinging happily to his neck and smiling.

At which sight Ken Hidaka knew for a fact that he had gone utterly, irretrievably mad.

On the other side of the cell door Youji and his servants stood, looking equally wrong-footed by the stranger's sudden appearance. Aya looked coldly determined, but this didn't mean anything because he was always coldly determined. Schuldich was looking uncertainly at Crawford as if for some kind of clue to what to do next; a barely any more confident Crawford was doing exactly the same to Youji, who was looking daggers at Farfarello.

Crawford finally looked away from the astounded Youji and sighed. Oh no. Farfarello had gotten loose again. Well he wasn't going to catch him this time, it was Schuldich's go. "Farfarello. The delivery boy. Well, he was the delivery boy." "His delivery wasn't good enough." Schuldich said with a Cheshire Cat smirk, having recovered lot of his cool in the space of about three seconds.
Nagi blinked, looking up from Farfarello's collar. "Is that some kind of double entendre, Schuldich?"
"Probably, but don't ask me what it meant." Schuldich replied.

'What Ever Happened To Inflicting Pain'

Farfarello:
Whatever happened to inflicting pain
When I drove my spike
Into someone's brain
It was always fun to be criminally insane
Committing a murder just to hurt the divine.

I'd go out on the prowl when I felt the need
I'd try and find a victim and usually succeed.
Or other nights I'd sit home and make myself bleed.
I'd be makin' God hurt
And I really had a good time.

Nagi tugged on Farfarello's hands over and over until he gave up and let the boy lead him into a rather clumsy dance. That was all the invitation the audience needed to get up and take advantage of a number which was, after all, great to dance to. As if it wasn't galling enough for Youji already, Schuldich had also decided to join in for some reason even he wasn't completely clear on and had literally dragged a rather startled Crawford into it as well.
"Schuldich, what are you—"
"Relax will ya, Crawford? I know what I'm doing!"

All:
Gotta tell ya,
I know it's odd
I'm really missin' hurtin' God.

Gotta tell ya,
I know it's odd
I'm really missin' hurtin' God.

Youji, meanwhile, was watching the guests, his expression unusually severe. He, was, in fact, beginning to look more than a little pissed. He folded his arms and stood possessively behind Aya, his arms round his neck. Aya, judging from the rather disgusted expression on his face, didn't have the faintest idea what was going on. Youji did, and he didn't like it! The fact that his convention guests were dancing in the aisles didn't help matters either.

Farfarello:
I'd wake up at night
When it was dark and still
And then I'd creep outside
Finding victims to kill.
Slaying the religious
Was the ultimate thrill
Cause I knew God would weep
When He discovered my crimes.

I broke the First Commandment
And I broke it well
And I put God in His Heaven
Through His personal Hell.
Then I'd doze through the day
Safe in my padded cell
Then I'd wake and start again
And I really had a good time.

Aya frowned. He didn't understand what was going on but he knew what he made of it. He thought it was loud and stupid and it didn't impress him in the slightest. Why Youji was hanging all over him he didn't know, though if he had asked the blonde would have told him it was to save him from the corrupting influence of Farfarello. He had considered locking Aya in the lift cage to further save him but that, he had thought, would be rather too undignified for his noble creation, so he had decided not to.

All:
Gotta tell ya,
I know it's odd
I'm really missin' hurtin' God.

Gotta tell ya,
I know it's odd
I'm really missin' hurtin' God.

Whilst Farfarello divided his time between molesting (try as he might, Ken just couldn't think of another word for it) the thrilled Nagi and boogieing relentlessly at the conventioneers, Ken and Omi, Aya and anyone else he may have inadvertently forgotten about, Youji ducked into the cell where Schuldich was dancing with Crawford. Humming innocently, he picked up an ice pick completely unnoticed by any of his guests or the staff who, much to Youji's disgust, were still caught up in the dance. Omi spotted it, however, and tugged on Ken's sleeve. Ken, sadly, was too caught up staring in complete bewilderment at the disconcerting spectacle of Farfarello and Nagi doing a bizarre, horribly sexual version of the Twist.

All:
Gotta tell ya,
I know it's odd
I'm really missin' hurtin' God.

Gotta tell ya,
I know it's odd
I'm really missin' hurtin' God.

"What's he doing?" Omi whispered.
"Who?" Ken asked. Nagi dancing with a lobotomized Farfarello was something he was sure he'd see in all his nightmares. "Farfarello 'him'?"
Omi pulled on the sleeve of his lab coat again, gesturing toward Youji who now held the ice pick loosely in one hand. "No, Youji 'him'."
Ken looked disconcerted. "What's he doing? Is he doing something weird?"
Omi nodded. "Ken-kun, I'm… getting kind of worried again." He said, clinging to Ken's arm so tightly he was almost cutting off the circulation. "I want to get out of here."
He wasn't the only one. "Um… well, surely they'll let us leave soon?" Ken said, somehow managing to sound hopelessly hopeful.

All:
Gotta tell ya,
I know it's odd
I'm really missin' hurtin' God.

Gotta tell ya,
I know it's odd
I'm really missin' hurtin' God.

Gotta tell ya,
I know it's odd
I'm really missin' hurtin' God!

Finally Youji could take it no more. With a near-frenzied shriek he ran towards Farfarello, brandishing the ice pick, and buried it into his back.

Farfarello pulled away from Nagi, an irritated expression on his face, as Youji stabbed at him with the ice pick again and again. As if it didn't matter in the slightest that Youji was furiously ice picking him, he walked calmly back toward his cell. Farfarello managed to make it back inside the cell – Crawford and Schuldich hurried out with guilty expressions on their faces, as if they had been caught doing something they shouldn't – before he slumped to the floor insensible. This didn't stop Youji, who'd got a rhythm going and was damned if he was going to stop now. He carried on hacking at Farfarello with the ice pick until the neck snapped.

The audience could only stare. That wasn't a side to Youji you saw very often, and they were unsure if they should be thrilled at getting this rare peep into a different, less public side of Youji, or if they should be horrified by his sudden descent into utter raving insanity. Down on the floor, they were rather more sure of their reactions.

Ken stared at Youji over Omi's shoulder in incredulity mixed with not a little bit of fear. Omi screamed again, briefly, before slapping one hand over his mouth. Ken was holding him so tightly it was painful but Omi barely noticed. Nagi screamed and kept going. Schuldich, looking a little panicky, ran over to the boy and slapped him around the face, hard, stunning him into affronted silence. But it was either that or have the entire castle implode because Nagi was feeling moody and Schuldich knew which he preferred.

Eventually, Youji staggered back out of the cell, a little dizzy. His scrubs were smeared with blood, as were the long rubber gloves he was still wearing. "And that takes care of that little irritation."

As he stood, reeling slightly, in the doorway, the bloodied ice pick dropped from his hands and he smiled guiltily, like a child who knew that he had been naughty but was hoping everyone would find him too adorable to chastise. It worked with the guests and might have on Crawford and Schuldich – although, of course, it may well have been that neither of them cared that much. It didn't work on Ken and Omi, both of whom had been appalled by the turn of events, even though they were assassins and Farfarello had been a sick, scary bastard. It certainly didn't work on Nagi who was staring at Youji in complete disgust.

Ken found his voice. "Jesus Christ, Youji. What was that in aid of?"

Youji ignored the question, holding out his rubber-gloved hands imperiously. Ken, either getting used to being ignored by all and sundry or worried about getting ice-picked to death himself, chose only to raise his eyes heavenwards and sigh in irritation at being disregarded yet again.

After a beat Schuldich realized there was something expected of him and hurried over to the man to tug them off, though he maintained his scrupulously bored expression throughout. He dropped the gloves into a fire bucket, then dropped it to the floor and, with Crawford's assistance, helped Youji change out of the blood-spattered scrubs, leaving him pristine and trim in his expensive, navel-baring shirt and leather pants, and Crawford and Schuldich carrying bundles of bloodstained clothing, the white aprons they had on over their own clothes becoming smeared with it. That was just how the master-servant dynamic worked. Schuldich thought it sucked.

"Why did you do that?" Aya asked after a beat.
"Don't take on so, Aya." Youji said evenly. "It was a mercy-killing. You saw the state the man was in. Do you really think anyone would want to live like that?"
"Huh!" Nagi snorted, turning his back to Youji and blanking him completely.
Ken seethed. "How come when I ask that you ignore me but when Aya asks the exact same damn question he gets an answer!" Youji ignored that as well and Ken fantasized, briefly, about beating the guy senseless (even if he was attractive, in the way that complete bastards often are). Damnation it was because he wasn't tall and imposing enough wasn't it? He was getting very annoyed.
"Besides," Youji purred, looking sensuously at Aya, "I couldn't bring myself to destroy you. You're a… rather different proposition."

'I Can Make You a Ran: Reprise'

Youji set off toward Aya, a look of determined lust on his face. Aya, stoic, baffled, stood there and let him come. He clearly didn't have a clue about Youji's intentions. If he had done, he might well have grabbed the katana again and threatened to cut Youji into delicious sashimi strips.

Youji:
But a Death Glare
And such fair skin
A tight ass
And that earring
Causes me such
Lust.
You know
It's just
As much
As I can stand!

Now Youji was practically next to Aya, running one hand languorously down Aya's cheek. Aya started, his eyes suddenly bewildered. Ken very nearly shouted out a warning to the redhead, but he remembered the ice pick job he'd just witnessed and bit it back. Poor guy, though. Shit, Ken felt sorry for him. What a thing to be… well, created for!

Youji:
In just seven days,
Oh, baby

Youji, Servants and Guests:
I can make you a Ra-a-a-a-n.

Youji:
How could I not desire
The beautiful Aya?

Again, he wasn't the only one. Omi, utterly overcome, launched himself at the baffled Aya and clung to his neck with a joyful cry.

Omi:
God, I need a man!

"Omi!" Ken shouted, affronted.
It wasn't just Ken – in fact, this brazen gesture on Omi's part had provoked gestures of injured male vanity on two fronts at once. Youji got in on the act too, giving him a disgusted glower Aya would have been proud of, thrusting him away from the bewildered redhead. "Mine. Back off."
Omi blushed furiously, suddenly realizing where he was and what he was doing. "Sorry, Ken-kun!"

Youji, Servants and Guests:
In just seven days,
I can make you a Ra-a-a-a-n.

Youji reached out and patted Aya on his firm, brief-clad rump, his glances now not so much 'come-hither' as just plain 'come' and full of lascivious intent. Aya very nearly went for the katana, but his ignorance of Youji's intentions had him holding back, even as Youji slung one arm around his shoulder and leered at him. Yes, he leered. Ken quite literally had to bite his tongue this time.

Youji:
It's time the fun began!

Youji, Servants and Guests:
In just seven days,
I can make you a Ra-a-a-a-n.

As the music turned into a saxophone version of Mendelssohn's Wedding March, Crawford pushed a button, which opened a pair of curtains and revealed a honeymoon suite decked out in black silks. The guests, rushing down onto the floor, showered Youji with confetti as he led Aya toward it, though the little brunette who had been so taken with Aya earlier looked too disappointed by his disappearance with Youji for her shouted congratulations to convince anyone.

As Youji and Aya vanished into the suite and the curtains closed behind them, Ken and Omi – along with Youji's servants and his guests – were treated to a brief glimpse of the blonde quite literally launching himself at a poleaxed-looking Aya. The drapes swept mercifully shut before they could see the result of the collision, but it didn't take much imagination to guess what was on Youji's mind.

Which, if one asked Ken anyway (which of course nobody was going to do given that he seemed to be well on the way to becoming the Why Do People Never Listen to Me? Poster Boy) begged the question what the hell kind of a madhouse was this? No, really, wouldn't it have been a lot simpler to go and pick someone up in a bar?

It appeared that it simply wasn't possible to lower your standards enough.

Author's note: Thanks to Whisper Reilman, who left me a comment containing the phrase 'I can make you a Ran'. I changed the song to 'I Can Make You a Ran' in light of it because it's just so right. Can't believe I overlooked it. I mean, it's perfect. Not to mention hilarious. Top marks for you!