Disclaimer: Me no own, you no sue. Blah, blah, blah.

Rating: Pg? Pg-13? I dunno.

Chapter Two: The Mission From Hell

Ken's POV

"Weiß, you have a mission. Your targets are Tetsuya Takarashi, President of 'Pretty Things,' and Reika Ohkawa, the lead artist. The mission folder will explain the details. Hunters of the night, deny these evil beasts their tomorrows!"

The shadow of our former Persia flickers off the screen as we pass the folder's contents around, myself being the last to read them. 'Pretty Things' is apparently a simple group of artists, but the president hired an out-of-the-ordinary artist to take the lead. She supposedly paints horrific scenes of people being murdered in various different ways, and uses real humans as models for her 'art.' So it is, once more, our job to dispose of the criminal masterminds. We as Weiß work above the law, taking matters that cannot be solved by the police into our own hands. I often ponder over the fact that in some ways, we're no better than the lives we dispose of. After all, we're just cold-blooded killers, aren't we? And that's all they are, too.

The sound of Manx's voice brings me back to the subject at hand.

"Okay, Weiß, who's in?"

Yohji's voice is the first to cut in. "Well, it involves damsels in distress, does it not? So I'm in, I suppose."

Omi's genki chibi voice pipes in next. "Sure. Count me in!"

Ran, as usual, just nods. I'm the last to accept. One of these days, I'm going to say no. Just not today.

NyarNyarNyar (this is my transition from scene to scene, okay?)

The mission starts as planned. Ran and I go after the targets while Omi and Yohji take care of the guards and the alarm system. I still don't understand why they have guards or alarms in a building full of simple painters, but I guess Takarashi wants to make sure no one messed with his and Ohkawa's scheme to make money.

All of a sudden I hear our leader's voice cut through the silence, ordering me to hold still and be quiet, a pale arm clad by trenchcoat sleeves holding me back, musky scent dwelling in my nose. But this is no time to think about that.

A few seconds later, we hear someone approaching the abandoned hallway we're currently invading. The tan plush carpet makes it hard to hear anyone coming, but to the ears of a trained assassin (or two), Ran and I can make out quiet footsteps. Our target is the one to round the corner, a female, so obviously Ohkawa.

She never even sees the twin cold expressions on our faces, for a katana strikes her heart faster than a bullet. Crimson liquid stains the carpet, and splatters the lavender walls.

I watch as Ran approaches the 26-year-old woman and yanks the blade out with a sickening noise, blood pooling onto her khaki coat and pants. Very messy business this is.

Neither of us hear the other figure appear, drawing out a gun. Before the redhead or I can notice, Tetsuya Takarashi shoots my Ran in the stomach with a maniacal laugh. I scream, mouth agape as time all but stops in its tracks. I watch in petrified horror as my stoic beauty falls backward with a pained expression on his face, gripping the wound tightly, all in slow motion.

I dash forward, bugnucks at the ready, and for once, I enjoy the feeling of flesh being torn beneath my claws. The blonde-haired, middle-aged American falls lifelessly on top of the already dead body of his brunette partner-in-crime, never again to kill another person. But all of my attention is focused on my fallen comrade. I quickly kneel down next to his unconscious form and tie my orange shirt around his abdomen to stop the bleeding.

When my brain comes back to life for a minute I signal Omi and Yohji over the intercom. "Siberian to Bombay and Balinese. The targets have been eradicated, but Abyssinian has fallen. I repeat, the targets have been eradicated, but Abyssinian has fallen." They can obviously detect the quiver in my voice, and after I tell them our exact location, they waste no time in making it over here.

Omi takes a quick note of the two targets, but then joins Yohji and I at Ran's side. Omi assesses the wounds of our leader, a fretful look on his normally cheerful face. We decide it'd be best to take him home instead of a hospital (nurses ask too many questions).

Yohji and I carry Ran on our shoulders as we make our way out of the building. Omi takes care of the few remaining guards, and we reach Ran's silver Porsche in only a few minutes, though it feels like an eternity.

I climb into the back with Ran while Yohji and Omi sit up front. The eldest takes the driver's seat and drives as fast as possible while I take the head of the fallen into my lap, a million questions and thoughts buzzing through my head.

NyarNyarNyar

"Okay. He will be fine in a few weeks, only because the bullet missed his major organs. But no work for three weeks," ordered one of Kritiker's doctors. I take a moment to ponder the meaning of those directions. A picture of a doctor saying that to Ran pops into my head. Ran? Not working for three weeks? Within seconds, I see a katana being shoved into her guts.

A smile crosses my lips, and I notice Yohji looking at me like I'm crazy. Then again, I guess I probably am. All of us are. Who, in our position, wouldn't go insane?

The black-haired female doctor leaves the room, no doubt returning to the Kritiker hospital to look over other injured patients. Yohji takes his leave once she's gone, muttering something about being late for his date. I'm alone, and take the opportunity to shift my eyes around Ran's room. Everything is so… bland. There's nothing personal, except for a few books set neatly atop a table. So I instead turn to look at something more interesting, settling my gaze upon the sleeping soldier.

I am the first person to see Ran's beautiful violet eyes open to the room. I had volunteered to stay with him through the night, since Omi has school this morning and Yohji has a date (when does he not?). I, of course, am always more than happy to have an opportunity to stare at our redheaded leader without anyone catching me.

He looks like an innocent angel when asleep, far away from the life we are now forced to live through. Even now, it takes a moment to slip on his 'mask' of ice, and I am, for only a short moment, able to enjoy the adorable look of confusion playing on his face to waking up with me sitting in his room (without permission). But confusion quickly turns to annoyance, and a glare is cast my way.

I break to him the news of his injury and how long he's supposed to keep from exerting himself, therefore knocking the intensity of his glare up a few notches. He makes a move as if to argue it over, but I send him my own patented glare, surprising the redhead.

I rarely glare at anybody, so when I do, whomever is on the receiving end takes me seriously. Normally. Not always.

Without another word I exit the room, leaving the ever-grump Ran to rest. Though he'll most likely try to escape the confines of his own bedroom. Let him try!

The rest of the day goes quickly, simply for the sake of the story, since the authoress is too lazy to write anything creative about watering plants and being attacked by rabid fangirls.

When I return to Ran's room this evening, my 'angel' is already awake, reading one of his many books. I can't tell what it's called, but it's pretty thick and has a bland cover, so most likely it's of no interest to me.

Upon hearing me enter, he marks his page with a small piece of paper and shuts the book, setting it down on the nightstand. I hastily explain to him that it's time to change his bandages, so he won't get mad and question my intrusion. I'm the only one around to actually take care of him, so there are no questions, and he nods without any argument.

The first aid kit is on his dresser, so I grab it and sit next to the redhead on the bed (hah! That rhymed!), trying to sit close enough to be able to reach him, but not so close that it makes him uncomfortable. He takes of his shirt (since the bandages are around his abdomen, you know), and I am graced with a nice sight. Scarred, but still very beautiful. Finely toned muscles, pale, almost inhuman skin.

I reach over with shaky hands and carefully remove the bandages from his slight form, a jolt of… something… amazing overcoming my senses as his flesh meets mine. I try to steady my hands as I wrap the new gauze around his stomach, but to no avail. I can only hope that he doesn't notice my shy embarrassment. But if he does, my stoic leader shows no signs that he cares.

Finally, after what seems like hours but is really only minutes, the fresh bandages are wrapped tightly around Ran's sculpted body. An uncomfortable silence settles in the room, and for the second time tonight I notice how completely drab the bedroom is. Everything seems dark and foreboding, the moonlight casting strange shadows across the furniture. A cool breeze causes the curtains to rustle restlessly against the open window and ruffles crimson locks of hair.

It's only when I bring myself to look into Ran's eyes that I realize just how close I came to losing my love in the last mission. What if… something happened… and I had never told him how I feel? I decide that it must be done. No matter how afraid I am. I am going to tell him. Right now. Yep, right… now! Have I said it yet?

"R-Ran… I…" Oy. Smooth, Ken, smooth. This is a hell of a lot harder than one would think it'd be.

"You what?"

I become even more nervous due to that cold tone in his voice. "I-I-I… I-I… I love you!" Well, there you have it. I finally blurted it out.

I feel tremendous relief at having gotten it off of my chest, but that doesn't mean my nerves have calmed down. In fact, if anything, I'm even more worried than I was before. Damn it.

I notice that my eyes are shut tightly, so I release them open, looking into the eyes of my beloved. Confusion, pure and true. He never expected this… but the shocked confusion turns to a cold, ice cold, Antarctic cold glare.

"Ken, I have no feelings for you. Please leave. Now."

It's my turn to be shocked, hearing the blatant indifference in his voice. I hadn't exactly expected to be met with his own declaration of love, but I did expect… something… anger, confusion, hurt; anything but this nothingness, as if his voice is void of all emotion.

The realization of pure rejection begins to settle in, a heavy weight on my chest. I quietly get up from the bed where true love lays, and walk dejectedly to the door, feeling the unwanted tears settling on the rims of my bottom eyelids.

At the doorway I turn around and take one last pleading look at the man I love, my Ran, before I feel my knees give out and darkness takes over my reality.

TBC!

Like it? Love it? Hate it with all of your heart? Review! I know I've taken a long time to update, but now that it's summer, no more school, I have lots of time on my hands! Look for the next chapter in the next few days. I promise! This is a six-part story, so we're half way through already (cries)! And remember, the authoress needs her daily intake of reviews, so please help to meet that! Ja ne!