Disclaimer: I don't own Weiss, I just like to play with them once in a while. My work is always pro bono.
Author's note: This chapter would have been up earlier but my computer hates me and ate its original incarnation. But although you had to wait a bit longer for its release, the outcome is way better than the first draft. I also have more good news – the fic is completed! So enjoy and thanks for all your reviews and encouragement. It really means a lot.
It's late, close to 3 a.m. and the constant rainfall has left me soaked. My hands are cold as I tightly grip my katana. My back is flush to the east wall of the Yamada Pharmaceutical Company and a relentless, searing pain heats up my left arm. My eyes dart through the darkness unseeingly, though I can feel the onslaught of security at my heels. It's already been confirmed that the rest of the team has met at the rendezvous point on time. I am the sole straggler. I eye the seven foot fence I'm about to scale and sigh. I can hear the echo of footsteps that will soon overtake me.
It was supposed to be a simple in and out job.
It's nothing new - a corrupt pharmaceutical company under the wing of the Takatori family decides that it would be far more cost effective to test new, experimental treatments on recovering heroin addicts. The plan worked for the simplest reason that these people are the forgotten, left to the streets, and any adverse sickness or disappearances went largely ignored. Ken wasn't quick to sympathize but the way they straddle that ambiguous line between right and wrong, lost and renewed, is far too like us for me to judge. Besides, it's a mission and I could do with the money.
At the sound of a gunshot I swiftly duck low and flank the side of the building, I can hear the blood ringing in my ears. I try to ignore the gaping gash in my arm as thick, crimson liquid starts to drip down my hand. I abruptly turn around and a quick head count tells me there are at least 6 of them, the darkness blinds me to anything beyond six feet. Knowing I can't outrun them and get over the fence before they shoot me to death, I raise my katana and rush forward.
Youji continually wailed from the onset that the mission's cursed – much to the disapproving glances of an irate Omi and Ken's weakening protests that there is no such thing as a curse. I opted instead to ignore him, still feeling the tension from our last encounter. "You can't tell me you didn't feel anything… because I could tell". But it became increasingly hard to disagree with the lanky assassin, since everything seemed to be going wrong. The building plans Kritiker had forwarded us were out of date and there had been a few key renovations since. The next issue was a major reinforcement in security. Then the fact that Omi's headset suddenly decided it was no longer working so he was unable to provide us with necessary tactical data on the movements of the guards. Worse yet – the target was not where we expected him to be.
That's why I'm here now, trying to gut the remaining forces that refuse to relent. A shorter, stockier man than I collapses to the ground, blood rising up his throat and dripping past his lips. I shake the sticky fluid off my katana and ready myself for the next to taste the cool metal of the blade. After I sent the rest of the team back, about forty-five minutes ago, I returned to the insides of the building in search of our target. Though my plan was successful, I've been injured in the process. I'm starting to feel weak and the exertion from slashing at the never ending cascade of guards is ripping my wound open further still. I know I'll need stitches, I just hope it's not infected.
A crushing blow is dealt to the side of my head. I'm too tired. I'm getting sloppy. I stumble forwards and feel another hit between my shoulder blades knocking the wind out of me. My knees scrape against the rough concrete and with my last vestiges of strength I swoop my katana around me and I feel the contact with flesh. I don't know if the hit was fatal or even that damaging. Blackness is starting to overtake me before I can assess anything other than the fact that I'm suddenly very cold. I shiver as a familiar voice calls out to me, "Abyssinian!"
I plant my left, bloodied hand on the ground to steady myself and force the nausea back down my throat. I fight to remain conscious as that same voice shouts my code name again, "Abyssinian!"
It's followed by a deep grunt and soon thereafter the sound of someone being strangled. I look up, suddenly remembering that I'm on a mission only to see Youji fending off the last of the security guards.
"Abyssinian! Are you able to head to the rendezvous point on your own?" Balinese punctuates the question with a fatal hit to one of Yamada's henchmen.
I nod weakly and attempt to stand up but the nausea and dizziness are too much for me and I have to return to my crouching position. I can't find the words to respond.
"Wait! Stay there, Abyssinian, I'll help you back in just a minute!"
A long trail of wire shoots out of Balinese's watch, only to loop around the last guard. It tightens around his jugular until it slices through in an ensanguined waterfall. Before the man hits the ground, Youji is at my side, helping me to my feet. It's increasingly difficult to keep my eyes open. I know almost my entire weight is on his shoulders as my feet begin to drag on the ground. My knees buckle underneath me.
"Hey, hey, hey… there Abyssinian. You gotta keep it together," His voice is soft and filled with worry.
He hitches me further up his shoulder. I wrap my arms around his waist and lean my head in that small space between his neck and his shoulder. I'm too tired to question the sudden wave of warmth I can feel within. We eventually get to Youji's Seven, parked a few blocks away from the building. I know Omi's fretting over me and Ken is asking hundreds of questions but Youji manages to stave them off and gets in the back seat with me. At the time, I fail to realize how unlike him it is to let Ken drive. For the moment, I continue to stay close to him as a seizure of shivers of overtakes me.