Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Weiss Kreuz. Another adventure for Grau, which I do own, rights to.

Farfarello had regained consciousness several hours after Crawford thoroughly put him under. He'd dreamt during the forced slumber. It was about a girl, a girl he had never seen or met. Her hair was long and brown, he remembered, her eyes were hazel. She wasn't tall, but not short, either. In this dream she had been running, running to him. Why? There were guns being shot at them. He didn't know what was going on. "Only a dream," he said to himself.

"Hey," he started yelling. "Someone release me from this vial contraption!"

Scheldich walked in, "Morning, Farf. You slept well?"

"I had a strange dream," Farfarello said, looking up to the German who looked upside down to turned over assassin.

Scheldich cocked an orange brow, "Really? Tell me about…"

"Could you get me down first?"

"Yeah," Scheldich said, he took hold of the lock that kept Farfarello enclosed in his jacket and secured to the padded ceiling. Released Farfarello's ankles, he caught the Irishmen before he hit the floor. "Okay, you're down. Tell me."

Farfarello sat down on his bed. "There was a girl," he started to say.

"Oh my, little Farfarello's growing up," Scheldich said, faking tears in his eyes.

"Shut up. It was nothing that you would dream of," Farfarello snapped.

"Oh," Scheldich shrugged and looked disappointed. "Well, tell me anyway, I guess."

"She was running," Farfarello began again before he was interrupter by the German.

"Running? From what?"

"Someone was shooting at us."

"Why?"

"I don't know. I didn't understand any of it, really."

"Was she hot?" the German asked, a twinkle in his green eyes.

Farfarello just shrugged, as close to a shrug as he could, it's not easy to do in a straight jacket.

"Farf, either she was or she wasn't," Scheldich encouraged.

"Okay then," Farfarello said. "She was."

"That's good," Scheldich said. "But you still have no idea who she was or why people were shooting at you?"

"Nope, no idea at all," the Irishman replied.

"Maybe it'll happen in the future," Scheldich offered. "Maybe it was a premonition. Like you're psychic or something."

"Scheldich, I am psychotic not psychic," Farfarello said. "Do you understand? Psycho not psychic?" Farfarello repeated slowly as if he were speaking to a young child.

"Shut up," Scheldich barked. "I'm not a child," he laughed. "You don't have spell things out for me."

"Yet you still act as though you are seven years old."

"No," Scheldich said taking a stand. "I believe I act very grown up. It's you who acts as though he were four years old," the German laughed.

"I'm skitzo, I'm allowed to act immature and no one would think anything of it. It's in the job description." Farfarello commented.

"Yeah, well, you hold that well," Scheldich teased.

"Yes, I do. Don't I?"

"Yeah, you do."

The two Schwarz began chuckling.

"Hey, you two," Crawford said, he poked his head in the doorway. "We have a mission."

"Yeah, okay," Scheldich said, he turned to help Farfarello from the jacket. Farfarello turned and exposed his back to the older man. Scheldich undid the straps confining the Irishmen to the material and threw it on the bed. The two followed Crawford up the stairs and met with Nagi before heading outside to Crawford's car. Crawford started the engine and pulled out of the driveway.

"So what's the job?" Scheldich asked, as he stretched in the passenger seat.

"A man named Kohlson is going to be at the gentlemen's club on Mitoko Avenue," Crawford said.

"So do we take him out and go home?" the German asked.

"Yes, but there's a couple of obstacles that we'll have to take care of as well." Crawford said, his eyes watching the road carefully.

"Like what?" Nagi asked.

"Ninjas?" Scheldich asked and made the stereotypical praying mantis pose.

"Exactly," Crawford replied as he turned a corner.

"What?" the three younger assassins exclaimed.

"Yes, ninjas," Crawford said. "This man has teenagers that he finds living on the streets, gets professional fighters to train them in assassination and martial arts." The American waited for their next reactions.

"How many?" Nagi asked.

"At least five," Crawford said.

"Do they have any psychic powers?" Nagi asked, looking around the driver's seat.

"I do not know. There was nothing on them, really. I doubt they'll be much of a threat to the mission though." Crawford said.

"You had a vision?" Nagi asked.

"Common sense," the American replied.

The three younger assassins exchanged semi-confident looks.