Sorry. I like to begin stories with weak rhetoricals.
But when you've been in my mind, you would understand. All life is, is unanswered questions. This isn't a fairy tale kid, reality is full of loops and plot holes and bad endings. Get used to it, because that is what is waiting for you in the end. I amuse myself by trying to sound smart in my own mind, did you like that little rant?
Right now you're wondering about what is going to happen to our dear, precious Yohji. What is that evil Mastermind planning, who are these mysterious Schwartz members who have never been mentioned before...
I'm getting ahead of myself.
It's eight in the morning, Nagi's just waking up. He's thinking about his chemistry exam, running through equasions and forumals in his head while he brushes his teeth. So much information floating in that little brain of his, sometimes he thinks his head will explode. When he thinks that, I just want to slap him. You know? I'm not a very nice person.
Crawford is already gone. Currently Schwartz is working for some loser named Shigero Yukigawa. What an ass. He's into child porngraphy, did you know that? No, he keeps his private life very secret. Of course, that little aspect of his personables is completely unrelated to any assignment Schwartz has been involved with, but I still want to pull my gun out of its holster and paint the cream colored walls of his large, expensive office with his brains.
Farfarello has similiar thoughts, but for different reasons.
Ever since that Takatori bastard. Damn golf clubs.
We haven't been able to trust Farfie alone with an employer since.
You'd think a sadist would be able to appreciate another sadists work, but Farfarello has this whole victim complex; it comes from being a Catholic. He can hurt others, but stand back if someone hurts him. The wounds on his soul are fresh and deep, they never scar over properly. They feed his power. Kriker's database theorizes that Berserker doesn't have any extraordinary powers. They just say 'Berserker: Male Caucasian. Doesn't feel pain.' Oh baby, if only that were all of it.
You see Farfarello is what we call a...
Oh shit. I've gone off on a tangent. Where the fuck was I?
Ah yes, it's eight in the morning and Nagi is going off to school. I'm still in bed with the covers kicked off to the side, smoking a cigarette. It's a water bed and sometimes it makes me feel seasick, especially if I've smoked too much. My hands are behind my head and my knees are flexed straight towards the ceiling.
I'm doing my rounds.
Nagi's in the kitchen now, straightening his tie. The new high school Crawford enrolled him in wear Western style uniforms, very snazzy. I kinda miss the old black nazi number myself. But, whatever the fuck kids are willing to put with these days, right? He wishes I'd stop being lazy and drive him to school like I used to when he was younger, because taking the subway is such a hassle. Life's a bitch, isn't it?
Dark Zoilo is gone, he's been on assignment for the last month. Convient? He pops in and out as he pleases, he's more independant than the rest of us. Even I get homesick after awhile. I need my daily dose of Nagi harassing or I start to get ansty. But Dark Zoilo can disappear for months. That's why he's our field agent. And you'd never see him coming.
Farfarello and the other one are out cold in their respected living spaces. Dreaming little dreams of death, filth, and salvation. Angels with their eyes gorged out, children screaming, flesh burning down to charred ash over a blood red sun. It's so cute, if only you could see it. It's my job to wake them up before I go into the office. I've got some offical mind fucking to do this afternoon with a few of Yukigawa's associates before I take a late lunch.
Poor Schuldig. So oppressed.
Ah yes, but you're wondering. Where's Yohji?
Hmm. The bastard's still in lala land. He's beginning to suspect that Schwartz might more than its surface appearance! Big fucking Duh, Kudoh. Tell our contestant what he has won! Christ Almighty.
He still doesn't trust me.
Bastard. Should've left him there to die.
I felt more than heard the door quietly close itself as Nagi left the apartment. Drawing the cigarette out of my mouth, I gave the small line of smoke a thoughtful glance. Grey ash flickered and drifted to rest on my pajama top.
Hurry up and get better, you peice of shit.
888
"Ah, Mister Ioku, this is Mister Schwartzcoft, head of my secruity force. Mister Schwartzcoft, Mister Ioku. Please, gentlemen, take a seat." Yukigawa had an elbow growing out of his face. At sometime in his life his mother must have drilled two holes into the bottom part of that dried up flesh heap to make nostrals. I'm surprised he could breath through that monstrosity.
/What is Yukigawa thinking? A foreigner? And he brought him to a private meeting, how distasteful./
The sun was half out today and glinting in just a way that beams shot through the wall-to-ceiling windows and attempted to blind me. I crossed one leg over another and seated myself beside my employer, who was opening a notebook and preparing to lecture.
/Oh, we're almost out of water. I'll ask Keiko to get some more.../
/Ugh, damn allergies./
"Well then, I'm happy to report that our year end earnings were quite higher than we expected..."
The first time I laid my eyes on Yohji Kudoh... Hmm.
/Is Mr Eikyu really having an affaire with Ms Nobiki? Is that what you call social climbing? If only I were ten years younger... I'd sure as hell sleep my way to a better salary./
That was nearly six years ago, if I remember right. Fuck, it could've been more. It couldn've been less. When your mind works like mine does, it's hard to keep things in chronological order. This was before the whole Weiss gig though. Back when he was a detective with whats-her-name... Green hair, raspy smokers voice. Damn, she later worked for Masafumi...
"Excuse me, Keiko, could you bring us some more water?"
/Mmm... I like that.../
/Good lord, Keiko, button up your shirt! Some women, there's no shame in them/
"Certainly, sir."
It was when we first came to Japan, right after we got the brat. Ah, he was so fresh back then. Yohji, not Nagi. So full of ambition and invincibility. He honestly didn't believe he'd ever die, ever fall from grace. Brass son of a bitch, wasn't he?
"...that is to say, or investors should reconsider dealing with Phoenix & Raffle Inc until stocks balance out, in our current..."
/Blah, blah, blah. I wonder if I can get in a game of golf after Yukigawa's done yammering... Hmm./
ASUKA!
That was her name.
"Thank you, Keiko."
"Of course, sir."
/Thank you, Keiko's breasts. You make these investment meetings so much less boring/
Stupid bitch.
Actually, oh yes. Now I remember. The first time I met Kudoh was the day his partner died. One of our current employers, I forget his name, was a member of that "Gentlemen's Club" and Crawford had forseen problems. I had gone in to retrieve him, Nagi just so happened to be with me - although he didn't enter the club - and we removed our employer without hitch. Then the gunfire started.
Heh.
"Therefore, I suggest we consider Yokami and Noshiyuri's offer to merge our sister companys with..."
"Mastermind..." It's painful to think about how young our little Nagi was back then. No, really, it breaks my heart. His little hand reached up and grabbed my coat sleeve. "We should get out of here."
I chuckled and pulled my hair back with a band. The gunshots were becoming more heavy, and hurray, were starting to head in our direction. The car was only a few feet away.
/That fool, Yukigawa. Does he really want us to invest in Yokami and Noshiyuri? They'll sink this company/
/What is Yukigawa thinking? The board will never go with this idea... Yokami and Noshiyuri are a waste of time. They'll never be successful./
/I hope for the love of GOD and my CHILDREN that the board doesn't go through with this stupid idea.../
Here's where my work began.
I wonder where Crawford was. Nah, not really. If he was here, then he would be spoiling my fun.
I put my hand on the top of Nagi's head and ruffle his hair. The gesture sent bangs flying everywhere and I promised to hack some of those wild things off when we got home. Damn brat, he looked like a mop. "Kid," I said, "you need to learn to have a little fun."
Oh, but he was a smart bastard, even back then. "I don't fine bullet wounds to be very entertaining." Smart ass, I mean. Smart ass.
I lite a cigarette and tilted my head.
One shot fired. Two shots fired. Three, four, five. Footsteps. Come to Schuldig, baby.
A teacher at Rosenkratz once told me, hang on I got to think of this. If I don't say it right it won't make any sense...
/But what if Yukigawa's right... This move to allign with Yokami and Noshiyuri is so sudden, so unlike him. Maybe he's onto something./ That was my voice.
My teacher said...
/Then again, if I look at these reports... Yokami and Noshiyuri have been extremely successful in this isolated feild. If we could add it to the company.../
"They're coming... just sit back and watch the fireworks."
Two lone figures sprinted across the alleyway, fleeing for their lives. I could taste their mental aderline in the back of my throat, and it was better than any cigarette smoke I've ever sucked down. A man and a woman, two people trying to fight the good fight, tear an entire syndicate of evil down by themselves. How romantic.
Storybook-like even.
I laughed out loud when a stray bullet nailed the woman in the back.
In the man's mind, the world and everything in it came to a dead stop.
/The board wouldn't do anything stupid/ The told the one woman investee. /They know whats best for the company. They've always made good decisions before. And by the way, that Keiko bitch needs to be fired. She has bigger tits than me./
The one woman investee nodded her head in conclusion, then froze with a blush. Her eyes tried not the wander to the assistant standing in the corner, holding the water pitcher.
The basic tool for the manipulation of reality is the manipulation of words.
Falling...falling... falling...
Disbelief, anguish. Pain, terror, death... Nothingness.
Blank eyes, frozen wide open. I loved that expression. It meant nobody was home.
The man's heart broke and for the first time I got a good look at his face, twisted in dark emotions. Without thinking, I broke into Nagi's frightful train of thoughts and ordered the young telekentic to sheild him. Him... Yohji Kudoh. Down on his knees, subservant, holding the limp body of his one time lover. He didn't even notice the bullets bouncing away from him.
What pure emotion.
"So that's true love, huh?" Never felt that one before.
I wanted to destroy it.
"So then, I'll let the board discuss their thoughts on this matter in private and we can meet back in an hour." Yukigawa bowed and turned to exit.
I leered with the light in my eyes and slowly untangled my long, foreinger body from the leather chair.
"Schuldig..."
"...run..."
"Schuldig?"
"/Run, you stupid bastard./"
Yohji Kudoh.
I didn't notice that I had pulled out my own gun until he was on his feet and moving away. At first I reasoned, my gun was trained on his body. Oh, that would've been sweet, wouldn't it? I could have saved him right there, ended it at that moment so he could die next to his lover. Now that, boys and girls, that would have been storybook.
The syndicate's henchmen chased after him. They had machine gunes. One of them stepped on Asuka's body as he passed. I shot him in the head, and they turned to look at us. With my control on their brains, it didn't take long to make the rest of them dead. The man escaped, escaped as the people chasing him turned on each other.
"What do you think, Mastermind?" Yukigawa asked me, as we rode down to the lobby.
"W-why, Schuldig? Why did you protect him...?"
"Pow, pow." I said to Nagi. He was shaking. "Fireworks."
The numbers on the elevator slide down to zero. I pulled a cigarette out of the pocket of my jacket. "Everything is going according to plan, sir."
He smiled under his giant elbow nose and stepped out in front of me when the brass doors opened, exposing his back. I stared at his retreating form, slightly dumbstruck. The jabbering minds of the lobby began to filter into my brain, pushed back by the overwhelming thought that I could just pull out my gun and end his existence right there.
Pow, pow.
I was always thinking weird shit like that.
My teacher once told me: a bullet in the right place could change the world.
888
What a fucking boring day.
I contemplated stripping down to just my boxers in the hallway between the front door and the dining room, but then I decided against it. A quick scan of the apartment showed that there was no one interesting out and about to strip for. And what was the fun in being naked alone.
Random thoughts, random thoughts.
Damn.
Seriously.
Where was everyone? Was Crawford still at work? Nagi could be at the library, he goes there to study sometimes. But... God damn. It was early evening and the house was quiet. Dead quiet.
I peeled off my coat and threw it on the dining room table. Bang, bang.
Hmm. It was so fucking quiet that I had to wonder if...
I walked into the living room and studied the furniture. Everything was in place, neat and orderly, exactly as we had left it. You know, even after all these years, you would think I could learn. I'm a telepath, you know, I get my sense of reality through mental sensations. Kinda like a heat scan, but in reverse. Sensation, sensation. Telepath's didn't have blind spots... unless they were dealing with...
Shadows, shadows, false light.
Silence, calm, stilness. I studied Crawford's recliner, then the couch, then the two beanbags pushed up against the polished coffee table. My eyes touched everything, my mind ignoring what it was telling me: there's nothing here. There's nothing unnatural about this white, buzzing, soundlessness. Fucking...
"He's awake."
Fuck you. There he was.
I took a step back and mentally scolded myself - you fucking pansy ! - he was right in front of me, seated cross legged on the couch, middle cushion. This revelation drew an annoyed sigh from me and I began unbuttoning my dress shirt.
The spell was broken, I fell against Crawford's leather recliner and the sound of my body upon impact was like a thousand panes of glass shattering. The act seemed unholy, like I broke wind in church. Ha! "How's he feeling, huh?"
"Anxious."
I began searching for the remote. When I found it, I placed my dirty ass feet on the coffee table and stretched. "Where's Farfarello? Out?"
"He's sleeping."
Sleeping? But it's almost dinner time. I tilted my head to the side and forced myself not to look at him. Oh so fucking gracious, Schu-Schu. "His medication acting up on him again? He hasn't been cutting, has he?"
"No," his quiet voice answered, "he's just sleeping."
Well, I guess he does that from time to time.
I'll go check on Farfarello before I take a shower. Just in case.
I should go check on Kudoh too...
He might be...
Nah. I turned the tv on and channel surfed. Talkshow, talkshow, reality tv, talkshow, news, news, reality tv, commerical, reality tv, rerun... I paused on the cartoon channel and frowned at the glowing set. Did anyone feed Kudoh today? Oh shut the fuck up, Schuldig. You're such a pansy. I rolled my eyes and tapped the remote against my head. I stared at the tv as it went black during a scene change, across the distance small and distorted my image stared back. My image in the recliner, the coffee table my feet reclined on, and an empty leather couch.
What? Oh yeah, he was still here.
He wasn't watching the tv though, he was sitting on the couch with his legs crossed, watching me.
"How about you? You okay that he's here?" I asked. "I could move him to that apartment I have downtown, you know."
"It's okay, I guess."
You guess?
"Huh," I've seen this episode before. Why do they always play reruns? "You'll tell me if it starts bothering you, right? I like to know these things. Not because I care, but because I don't want Crawford breathing down my ass for... distrubing team dynamics or whatever. You know how it is."
I wonder if we had any juice in the fridge.
"It's okay, I guess." He repeated in that same questionable tone. My eyes stayed focused on the tv, my body alone in the reflection of the living room. The scene switched and I gave him time to make any objections. Let it sink in. Tick-tock. Damn, was he ever going to talk? "Schuldig?"
"Guilty!" I chirped.
"...my show's going to be on in twenty minutes. It's the season finale, so I get the TV, ok?" Another commerical and when the scene darkened this time I could see his slight form slowly fill across the set. Now there were two people sitting in the dull mirror. The atomosphere in the room relaxed.
I tapped the remote against my head a few more times in thought. Now I could feel those purple eyes train on the back of my head. His mind unmasked. "Hmm, maybe I should bring some DVDs into Kudoh's room. He's going to be bedridden for a few more... weeks. Don't want him going crazy."
I tossed the remote onto the coffee table and jumped up, the motion popped my back. Ahhh, so nice.
"But that'd require finding out what kind of movies he likes, going through my closet to find the DVDs... so much work for such a humble Mastermind. Oh well, I had good intentions. That's enough to get me into heaven. I'm going to check on the Farf and take a shower. Knock yourself out, kid."
I didn't hear any movement until I was halfway down the hallway, and then, it was just the sound of the television channel changing.