"Well, well, well. Isn't it past your bedtime, young lady?" Schuldich purred as he strode into the apartment and saw Sabbath curled over her laptop with a mug next to her and a single candle burning on the table. Farfarello was at his heels, and his head turned like a bird of prey's toward Nagi's room.

Sabbath gave Schuldich a look of deadly irritation. "Age before beauty."

Schu laughed. "Then I've got you beat in both categories," he shot back, falling back onto the other end of the couch and lounging with a low purr. "Either way, what's kept you up so late? It couldn't have taken that long to dispose of the corpse."

Sabbath shook her head at him and smirked wryly. "Sorry, Schu. If you think you're going to use Ray to get under my skin, you picked the wrong set of feelings to manipulate. The dead don't make good leverage. Farf, I hope you don't mind, but we had to get rid of his body so we borrowed your suitcase."

Farfarello tilted his head at her. "The spell failed?"

"His soul was fractured. I couldn't put him back in his body without shattering him entirely, so I sent him on."

Farfarello nodded and made a sound of approval, wandering over and leaning over the coffee table, hands splayed across the wooden surface as he peered into her mug. "Is there any more of that?" he asked flatly.

"In the kettle in the kitchen," she told him, and he slipped away.

"You and Farf get along rather well," Schu remarked, watching the Irishman's retreat to the kitchen. He turned a sly, knowing smirk on Sabbath. "You wouldn't happen to have enchanted him… would you?"

She snorted. "Of course not. That's blatantly unethical, messing with somebody else's free will just to magick them into wanting you."

Schu laughed. "I didn't say anything about a spell, little witch." Leaning in, a lock of brilliant hair fell silkily over his shoulder. "Do you think Farf can love? Come now, I'm interested in your opinion. I've seen into his mind, you know, and it's a burning, black ball of hatred. Perhaps he would be infatuated with you for a while, but eventually he would kill you." His fingers flicked, long and delicate, and pulled a speck of lint from her blue top. "A piece of advice, eh liebchen? Stay away from him. For your own safety."

Sabbath watched him for a moment, her features expressionless, but fury burning in her eyes. Then, still furious, she smirked sexily at Schuldich and leaned in, flicking that lock of hair back from his eyes. "A word of advice, eh guilt-trip? Mind your own business." Her upper lip curled back in a snarl.

Schuldich laughed. Sabbath felt a certain affection toward Farfarello, but nobody knew better than the telepath that that they were not in love. It was his audacity in telling her what to do that had her seething. So easy….

"But it is my business. We are Schwarz. You are not. You, my dear, are a temporary inconvenience with a few useful qualities, easily set aside and forgotten. Should the two of you ever make it into bed, remember that: he doesn't have it in him to love. Do you know how many bodies he has desecrated? You'd just be another body, and if he happened to feel the whim, another corpse."

"Thanks so much for your concern," Sabbath told him flatly, returning her attention to her computer.

Schu hiked an eyebrow, smirk widening. "Doesn't that concern you, liebchen? Or are you already so dead to everyone you cared about that your body doesn't matter to you?"

Sabbath sighed and shut the laptop. "Schu, you're good. Okay? You know exactly what my insecurities are and you do a wonderful job of exploiting them. But the problem is, I KNOW you're just exploiting them and I also know you're a liar. You'd say anything to get a rise out of me, and I just don't feel like rising to the occasion at the moment, all right? If you're that desperate to fuck with a psychopath, your precious Farfarello is right THERE." She pointed a finger and Schu sucked in a breath, glancing back.

Farf leaned in the kitchen doorway, a mug in his hand. There was no telling how long he'd been there, or what he'd heard.

"Actually," Farf told her with a slight smirk, "I don't feel like letting him irritate me either. It is too late and all sensible people are in bed."

"So what does that make you?" Schu tossed back at him, and Farf raised his mug and stretched, yawning as he padded toward his room.

"Sensible. Goodnight."

The door shut firmly and Sabbath snickered. "This just isn't your night, Schu. Nobody wants to play."

Schuldich shrugged and stood, tossing his hair back and slipping his hands into his pockets. "Oh well. You can't get all of the people all of the time." Still smirking, he ambled toward his own room, leaving Sabbath alone with her computer again. "Ja ne, koneko."

"Ja ne, baka," she said melodically, and he laughed before letting the door slam.

X-X-X

The park was small but busy, a local mecca of children and frazzled parents. Better, Crawford thought, than no parents at all. At least these took a bit of time from their busy days to do something with their children. Parenthood was a hell of a responsibility, which was one reason Crawford slightly resented Eszet for attempting to play parent for all of its psychics. Of course, most of those psychics had been abandoned or sold to Eszet by their parents.

He sat on the bench at the far end of the park, alone. His hands were folded neatly in his lap, his head tilted slightly back as he kept his gaze focused on nothing and mentally felt out along the time stream, the threads of the future glimmering to his senses with a thousand manifold colors and possibilities. There was Schuldich, there was Nagi, there was Farf. But Crawford refrained from examining Farfarello's strand. Given his insanity and his sometime-unpredictability, Farfarello's future contained so many possibilities that it was impossible for Crawford to sort out the most likely ones at the best of times. He noticed a peculiar congruency this time, but when a mental brush against those threads showed no danger to the Irishman, he moved on to his real target: the battle against The One and the probable outcomes. The threads wound and twisted and Crawford sank into them, mental fingers caressing and probing. He could not change these strands, could not change the weavings they made, but he could find the most probable outcomes in their knots and whorls.

He was distracted from close examination of a probability that involved an unexpected stroke of genius on The One's part by movement next to him. Blinking and straightening his glasses irritably, he glanced sideways and into the dry blue eyes of a tall man with spiky blonde hair, in rather simple, nondescript clothing. He was built, and Crawford hiked an eyebrow, catching sight of a scar or two along the man's arms.

The man simply smiled. "So, can you tell the weather too?"

Instantly on-guard, Crawford merely smirked and readjusted his gaze toward the children. "Well, at the moment, it seems to be sunny," he returned dryly.

"Oh, good. Just checking."

Crawford's eyes closed momentarily as he dove into the threads of the future, found his own, followed it, and found where it intersected with…. "So what merits the pleasure of your company today, Mr. Aurn?"

He was answered with a light chuckle. "You intrigued me."

"Indeed. What singular fortune." One slender finger rested on the bridge of his glasses as Crawford smirked again.

"Well, it's not everyday you get hired to kill a precognitive," Calan said matter-of-factly.

Crawford hiked an eyebrow, then chuckled. "But you're not going to kill me."

"… You're probably right. Like I said, you intrigued me, and it'd be a real shame to kill you if you can do everything they've said that you can." Calan's grin was ready, as he watched Crawford, his posture entirely relaxed.

"Really. And who is 'they'?"

Calan looked incredulous. "You don't know?"

"Why should I waste my time separating strands if you're just as likely to tell me?" He finally turned his own dark eyes to Calan, relaxing slightly as the future showed him no immediate danger.

Calan broke into a grin. "Kritiker."

Crawford glanced skyward. "Why am I not at all surprised?" He appraised Calan momentarily. "You don't seem like common Kritiker stock."

"I'm not. I'm a hired hand, because apparently nothing they have could do the job."

Crawford's smile was quick and deadly. "Ah, Weiß. They've made an admirable start, but like many angst-filled teenagers, I somehow doubt they'll be able to follow through. And do you think you can do better?"

"Well, I'M not a teenager, I'M not angst-ridden, and I'VE been doing this most of my life," Calan pointed out. "I'll let you draw from that information whatever you like."

"Then in terms of experience, it would seem we are much more equally matched. Are you that desperate for a true challenge, that you would risk Kritiker's displeasure and the loss of your bounty? Out of idle curiosity."

Calan looked up straight in the eye and said, forcefully, "Yes. I would. It's been SO long since I've had to exert any effort. And if you're asking if I'm afraid of Kritiker… the answer to that is a definite 'no'."

Crawford stifled a chuckle, finding himself immensely enjoying this conversation, and the possibilities it brought to bear. "Kritiker is hamstrung by their own hypocritical devotion to 'justice' as they see it."

"I make no claims of justice. I do what I have to do in a kill-or-be-killed world, and ultimately, it's all a matter of who decides who lives and who dies." Calan leaned back and stretched, eyes flicking to the clouds meandering above the skyscrapers. "Good, evil, they don't come into this, and I don't claim to sort out the trash."

"I find honesty to be a rare quality in assassins. You must be quite skilled to have survived so long," Crawford returned dryly.

"Well," Calan said with mild sheepishness, "when I actually intend to BE an assassin, I usually don't talk to my prey. But I was wondering if you'd be up to, say, some sparring?"

"Sparring?" Crawford's eyebrows raised.

"Fencing, aikido, jujitsu, karate, anything really. I'd challenge you to a game of chess, but since you're… you know… precognitive, that really wouldn't be fair."

He couldn't resist an inkling of true interest. "You fence?" he inquired politely, brief fond remembrance of his own formal training days flashing in his mind.

Calan smirked. "That I do."

"Well. As polite as it is of you to offer formal challenge, which I do, of course, appreciate, I'm sure you understand the inherent suspiciousness of your proposal. Why should I accompany you to a grounds of your choosing and place my neck on the chopping block? Figuratively speaking, of course." He flicked a speck of pollen from his jacket.

"Did I say it was of my choosing? I just offered to fence you." Calan thought a moment. "And I meant with foils, not caecilian style; with REAL rapiers."

"I wasn't aware that there was an appropriate facility nearby," he shot back, enjoying the verbal joust. "You're native to this area then?"

Calan laughed. "If there's a university anywhere within a few miles, there's fencing. And as I'm sure you know, there's a university not so far from here."

"Ah yes, the prestigious institution known as NYU," Crawford said with mild sarcasm.

Calan sighed and stood up. "Well, if you'd like to, I'm happy to oblige. If not, I'll be on my way… and we'll be seeing each other later."

Crawford considered the offer for a moment, then stood also and adjusted his glasses. "I graciously accept your invitation."

Calan broke into a grin. "Well, then. Shall we?"

"Let's," he said flatly, gesturing that Calan should lead the way.

X-X-X

"He's late," Schuldich said irritably, brushing back a lock of orange hair and folding his arms across his chest, looking imperious and highly annoyed.

Farfarello shrugged from the couch, where he was curled up like a cat with a book Schuldich hadn't managed to catch the title of.

"It's not as though we have anywhere to be," Nagi said quietly. He was standing over near the window, leaning against the frame. His usual outfit had become far too hot, so he'd shocked the hell out of Schuldich by appearing this morning in a t-shirt and jeans.

"But he usually doesn't take this long," the telepath muttered.

"Crawford is both intelligent and careful," Farfarello said absently. "The One wouldn't stand a chance."

Schu scowled. "Don't imply that I'm worried about him, because I'm not. But he's being damned inconsiderate by making ME baby-sit the both of you."

"Oh yeah, me, Farf, and Nagi. We're so hard to look after... and after you tuck us into bed you'll have to nail the roof back on," Sabbath said dryly, emerging from her bedroom.

Schu's eyes narrowed, but Nagi spoke before he could.

"If you're babysitting, you should let us have whatever we want to eat for dinner. I think we should get a cake."

Distracted by that entirely incongruous statement, Schu blinked at Nagi. "… Come again?"

"Cake," Nagi repeated quietly, then glanced up, cerulean blue eyes fixing on Sabbath's. He smiled shyly and Sabbath melted into an adoring grin.

"It's your birthday?" Schu said incredulously, picking up on the thoughts being echoed by the both of them.

"You care?" Sabbath shot back.

Farf glanced up from his book, head tilting. "Happy Birthday," he said flatly. Then his eyes switched to Schuldich. "Can we have cake?"

"Wha… when did –I– suddenly become the authority?" Schu demanded, and Sabbath snickered.

"Your fault, Schu. You declared yourself the babysitter."

Schu looked utterly bored and flipped Sabbath the finger, and she sashayed over to where Nagi stood and cuddled him briefly.

Nagi looked both flattered and uncomfortable, cheeks dark red.

"Oh, for GOD'S SAKE Nagi, it isn't as though you couldn't have any old woman you wanted if you'd just loosen up," Schuldich declared, hands making a sharp 'why me?' gesture as he turned toward the kitchen. "And I don't care if you all have cake. I don't care if you paint the walls with it. But there's another issue here, and that's…."

"How it inconveniences you that Crawford doesn't remain utterly predictable?" Farfarello proposed dryly.

"Fuck you too."

Just then, the door swung open and Crawford stepped inside. His hair was disheveled and his suit jacket was slung over his shoulder, his shirt open at the neck with the sleeves rolled up. He looked incredibly satisfied with himself.

"He did NOT get laid," Schuldich muttered, in response to the first thought that popped up in Sabbath's head. He glanced at Crawford. "Did you? And you're late."

"I wasn't aware that I was operating under a schedule, Schuldich," Crawford told him negligently, striding past him and toward his own room.

Schu raised an eyebrow and gave Crawford's back a sardonic look. "And exactly where HAS our leader been? With a woman, as the little witch imagines? Off seeking the future?"

"I wasn't serious," Sabbath said crankily.

"Sorry, Schu, but it's really none of your business," Crawford said with a satisfied smirk, stepping through the doorway and turning to eye them. "And Sabbath?"

"I was trying to torment Schu!" she protested.

He waved a dismissive hand. "Not that. I was going to tell you that when you try to celebrate tonight, take someone with you. The One is stalking you. If you go alone, you won't escape them again." The door shut behind him.

Schu rolled his eyes. "And how does he think YOU'RE going to celebrate, liebchen? You can't even drink."

"We're not celebrating ANYTHING," Sabbath said firmly. "Nobody has given a shit about one of my birthdays for four years. Hell, I'm used to going out to dinner with myself."

Schu hiked a brow, taking a step closer to her. "What a shame. Most children would be crushed by such… callous disregard. But I'll bet you were crushed the first time, weren't you?" His lips spread in a grin, partly a baring of teeth.

Sabbath took her own step closer to him, smiled, and tilted her head back.

Schuldich's eyes widened and he let out a choked sound of pain, clutching his head and dropping to one knee as his teeth ground together. He lashed out instinctively and Sabbath was rocked back on her heels. She made an animal sound and fell hard on her ass, fingers digging so hard into the carpet that her nails bent back on themselves.

"Schu!" Nagi said sharply, seizing the telepath's shoulders and shaking him. When it did no good, he turned, only to find Sabbath's eyes open, narrow, and wild with rage, fixed on Schuldich as they kept up whatever mental battle they were engaged in. "Sabbath! Stop it! Stop it RIGHT NOW."

Sabbath cried out and convulsed, and Schu drew in a hitched breath. Then there was a dull thud and the telepath slumped even as Farfarello retracted his fist and straightened. Nagi looked up at the much-taller Irishman, blue eyes solemn.

"They've got to stop this," he said earnestly. "They'll kill each other."

Farfarello just looked from Nagi to Sabbath, who was gasping for breath, and then back at Nagi. "Do you think they care? Flint and steel will spark when they strike." He knelt and picked up Schuldich, who was merely stunned and quickly regaining his wits, and deposited him with unusual gentleness on the couch. "They will keep sparking until one defeats the other. Then, I suspect, they will stop. It is the nature of all creatures to establish routines of dominance and submission. Every time we stop them, we are only delaying the inevitable conclusion."

Nagi shook his head. "But that's idiotic."

Farfarello shrugged. "God cursed mankind with strife. Take it up with Him."

Realizing that the instant God came up in a conversation with Farfarello, that conversation turned futile, Nagi abandoned the attempt and picked Sabbath up off the floor. Schuldich sat up, meanwhile, rubbing his head.

"Bitch has a hell of a scream on her," he muttered bitterly.

Farfarello eyed him. "You're being stubborn, and I don't see what purpose it serves. You're not going to cow her. She turns hurt to rage."

"You wouldn't understand," Schuldich told him tiredly, lying back on the couch. "Just take her out. Do something. Leave me alone."

Farfarello's golden eye burned into him for a long moment, but then he nodded and helped Sabbath up. She was shaky, but her eyes were still burning with hatred, and he turned her away from Schuldich before she could leap onto the couch and maul him with her teeth and nails. Nagi faded back toward the window as he walked her toward the door, the smell of her anger slowly intoxicating him, making him want to hurt something.

"You two really deserve each other," Schuldich said flatly as Farfarello's hand closed around the doorknob. "Have fun, kids."

Farf chose not to honor that with a reply.

X-X-X