Kon'nichi Wa Minna!
So here's another chapter of KW, just in time for the holidays! Again, it's not much, but given that I'm the Slowest Updater Ever, I'm sure you've come to expect this by now, no? At any rate, enjoy it for what it's worth, ignore it for what it isn't, and enjoy your holiday season, however you choose to celebrate it.
-Whisper
The Koneko Wars
Chapter 14: Sturm Rising
"I do not believe that Weiß are taking this threat seriously." Crawford took a sip of his martini and frowned down at it. This was not a martini, this was swill.
"You brought me out to dinner to discuss business?" Schuldich's heart sank though he was keeping it hidden quite admirably. He did, however snatch a menu and begin searching for the most expensive dessert on it.
"We needed to go somewhere where Weiß wouldn't hear and I haven't eaten yet today." The Oracle pushed his martini to the side and began to sip his water. He would definitely be having a discussion with the restaurant manager about this. He pushed his glasses up off the tip of his nose and reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a small notebook. "We have already located one Sturm warehouse, suspected to be harboring explosives. Tomorrow night Schwarz will go in and evaluate the risk. If it is low, we will deal with matters ourselves. If required, we will wait until the following day, when Weiß will join us on the mission as planned. Schuldich? Schuldich, pay attention!"
The redhead waved a hand at his leader, his gaze on the dessert tray one of the waiters was carrying. "Ja, ja I hear you. Sturm blah, blah, blah. Mission blah, blah, blah. Don't trust Weiß blah, blah, blah. Waiter!" Schuldich snapped his fingers in the air, enjoying the irritation that flowed off their server. "I'll have the Death By Chocolate Cheesecake. Extra whipped cream. Extra fudge sauce."
"You're going to get sick if you eat that," Crawford warned, if only to spare his wallet the fifteen dollar dessert.
"So?" Schuldich hummed to himself while he waited for the server to bring his dessert to him.
--#--
Yohji and Ran still sat on the ends of their beds a full hour after Ken had left them. They blinked occasionally, but for the most part their combined gaze was locked on the chair that Ken had been sitting in. Surely they'd heard wrong, hadn't they? Surely this was some demented dream and they would wake up and feel like idiots for having believed such a thing to be true. Yohji reached behind him and grabbed a pillow, smacking Ran in the face.
Ran snarled, but made no move to retaliate. The pillow had hurt- obviously he was awake. "Normal people pinch themselves, Yohji." He stood then, moving the chair back to his desk. Ken's scent still lingered on it, which only aggravated him more at the moment.
"Hitting you is just as good," Yohji yawned. It was nearly midnight and he'd gotten nothing accomplished today besides giving Ran a few more bruises. Not too bad for a day's work, really. "So..."
Ran arched a brow but said nothing. It was clear with whom he placed the blame. Instead of answering Yohji's invitation for conversation, the redhead went to his dresser and removed his pajamas. There was nothing that could be done tonight to aid their situation and tomorrow they needed to begin planning for the infiltration of Sturm's warehouse.
"So that's it, you're just going to ignore me?" Yohji rose and crossed the room, getting out his own bedclothes which were, it should be noted, his only pair of bedclothes. Kudou Yohji was not accustomed to the trappings of modesty.
"Yes."
"What do you think he meant by 'start over?' How far back are we supposed to be taking this?" Yohji frowned at the discomfort the pajamas caused him but wisely held in the comment on Ran's sexual hang-ups that begged to come forth.
"Yohji, shut up and go to bed." Ran turned off the lights and moved towards his bed, the lamplight streaming in from the window illuminating his path. He didn't want to think about any of this. If he thought about it, he'd begin dreaming about it. If he dreamed about it, he'd never get any sleep and he'd mess up on the mission. "The mission comes first." It was what Ken had said, and he'd been right. They were letting their personal issues interfere with the operation of Weiß and that could be fatal.
--#--
"Cold turkey, that's impressive."
"Shut up, Schuldich." Ken was lying on his bed, suffocating in blankets, staring into the darkness of their shared room.
"Can't. If I shut up then I'm left to my own thoughts. Trust me, yours are brighter." A sigh sounded in the dark. "He asked me out to dinner to discuss the damn mission. The mission. Like I give a fuck about whether or not we catch Sturm a day earlier. They probably know we're coming and have already set a trap."
"Probably. We'll go in and die, our souls unfulfilled and lingering to haunt Sturm for the rest of their lives." It didn't sound so bad when put in such a poetic light. Ken could even get into it a bit, imagining what his ghostly-form would look like. Thinking about his ghostly afterlife was much better than thinking about his present, crap life.
--#--
"You chickened out." A snicker followed, high and hysterical.
"Farfello, I will kill you. I can see a future without you and it all ends up just the same." It was a lie, but at this point Brad would do anything to shut the Irishman up. Two hours ago Brad had come home from dinner with Schuldich, a dinner in which he had planned to discuss his feelings like a rational human being. Instead, he retreated back into business and kept his eyes on his plate so he wouldn't have to think about grabbing the German and hauling him into the restroom to ravish him. Why couldn't feelings be more logical? Then he could put everything roiling around inside him into a nice spreadsheet and deliver it to Schuldich in a dignified manner. But no, this silly attraction defied all logic. What was worse was that his gift gave him no indication if Schuldich would accept such an overture. Without at least a hint of success in the future, Brad was loath to do anything, particularly pour his heart out to a cocky, conceited, beautiful, annoying, and far too alluring man who would probably just laugh and tell him to find a girl and a closet and take care of it on his own.
"He probably hates you now."
And to top it all off, here he was, being berated by Farfello of all people. The sick melodrama that was Bradley Crawford's life was quickly becoming too much for the precog. "Farfello, I'm going to bed. If you mention the events of tonight one more time, I am going to shoot you. This is the only warning you will get." He reached into his pocket and pulled out his gun, checking the safety before placing it under his pillow.
--#--
"Our job is now more difficult. There will be set-backs, set-backs we cannot afford."
Stefan cringed as Lenka lectured him, but bore his shame as best he could. It was partly his fault that they'd been caught-- okay, so it wasn't his fault at all, but he couldn't have Birgit take the blame, her emotional state was too fragile to withstand Lenka's cruel words. "I understand, ma'am. It will not happen again. I will take double shifts until the warehouse safeguards are in place."
"Schwarz and Weiß will be coming tomorrow night," a light masculine voice added from the background.
"Thank you Kellen, your input is much appreciated." The tall woman was trying to be nice to the one individual she despised more than anyone else in the world. It was a noble performance but completely transparent. Perhaps the two would get along better if Kellen weren't so much like his brother.
"Kel, leave them alone, they don't want to be bored with your melodrama, useful as it is." Ah, there was the rat bastard now. Hahn strolled into the room, dropping himself onto the sofa without taking off his shoes. One of these days, Lenka was going to kill them both. It was a day in which all of Sturm sat in anticipation.
Lenka, a tall woman with black hair and eyes that refused to blink had come to Sturm as something of a temporary agent and had, within the course of a few months become their leader of sorts. She was quick to anger and disliked all of her teammates, but she (for the most part) kept her opinions to herself and did the job Estet paid her to do. At least, that was what she did up until the end of Estet. When the organization had fallen, she found herself stuck with three children and two grown children, none of them with an idea of how to survive outside of Estet's carefully constructed world. In an act of stupidity that she often regretted, she took pity on the fools and continued to lead them toward their goal: world conquest.
"Kellen, if you insist on consuming our resources, make yourself useful and clean the bathrooms." A flick of Lenka's wrist and the television shut itself off, all power drained from it. "You may continue to watch your sports when your chores are done." She turned to the other two "children" in the room. "Stefan, take Birgit and begin preparations for tomorrow's battle. If you fail this time, you will not be forgiven. Either of you."
"Being a little tough on the kiddies, aren't you?" Hahn asked, watching the three go.
"They'll appreciate the discipline once they're in our places," Lenka assured, her shoulders only relaxing slightly. From the moment Hahn had been admitted onto the team and brought his chaotic little brother with him, things hadn't gone well for her team. Kellen was a bad influence on Stefan and Lenka, and Hahn was a useless dolt whose only redeeming value was his skills in battle. If Lenka had to fight with or against the firestarter, she was going to fight with him, no matter how disgusted she was with him. She didn't trust him at all, but he had yet to do anything to overtly hurt her team. For his sake, he best keep it that way.
--#--
The plan had been fairly simple, Crawford had outlined it for unconditional success. Too bad they hadn't seen the pit on the other side of those crates. Omi, Nagi, Schuldich, and Ran had done their part beautifully. Omi and Nagi set the explosives, Schuldich and Ran created the diversion. All Crawford, Ken, and Yohji had to do was find some nice vantage points to watch and cover people's backs. Ken saw a pile of crates and thought it prime hiding real estate. He vaulted over the top of the wooden boxes and landed in a trap. A twelve foot deep trap. Yohji tried to get him out, but Ken's weight only managed to pull the blonde into the pit with him. Crawford was going to help them but foresaw himself being dragged into the pit and informed the two that he would see them next week. Bastard.
"Here Ken-sama, I brought you something to drink." Brigit set a glass of milk and two cookies down next to Ken's chained form. "Stefan says he'll come release you soon so you can move around more."
"Thanks," Ken replied awkwardly. Since he'd been captured and separated from Yohji this girl had barely left his side. She kept trying to make him more comfortable and insisting that he should behave or bad things would happen. The worst bit was the constant echoes of "Ken-sama" that rung in the room when she spoke.
She scooted closer, bringing the cup to his lips. "Drink."
"I'm not thirsty, but maybe later." He smiled and she swooned. At least working in a flower shop had taught him the basics of handling teenage girls. Hopefully Yohji's own torture session was going as well as his was.
--#--
"Hey there hot stuff." Hahn trotted into the holding cell and blew a kiss to his captive. The chained man groaned but didn't offer any further resistance. "If I knew something this good was part of the mission I never would've complained about digging that pit."
"Are you here to torture me to death with bad pickup lines? So you know, I've heard worse." Yohji's head was resting against the lukewarm wall, his hands long since drained of blood from being extended above his head. For fun he tried to flex his fingers, unsurprised when there was no response. "Great, now my fingers will have to be amputated. No one wants to sleep with a guy with no fingers." If he kept talking to himself and ignoring the idiot in the room, maybe said idiot would leave him to suffer in peace.
"You're cute when you're bitching." Hahn slid up next to his bound foe and began rubbing his arms. "I can't let you go, but I can help you a bit. Can't have the greater population deprived of such beautiful fingers."
"You are trying to be cheesy aren't you? If you're really this socially handicapped then I have nothing but pity for your poor, dateless soul." Despite his words, Yohji was somewhat grateful to this man who, no doubt wanted to kill him. A few more good rubs and Yohji's fingers might be able to move. "Any chance of you letting me out of these things?"
"Pretty slim since I don't have a key." Hahn continued to rub feeling back into Yohji's arms, letting the conversation fade in favor of humming a tune he'd heard on the radio that morning. When Yohji's fingers were no longer blue, he patted the blonde on the head and left. "You have fun in here gorgeous, and be careful, Lenka's due to give you a visit soon."
Yohji flexed his fingers and sighed. "These people are nuts." Wonder how Ken's holding up. If that perv touches him, I'll gouge his eyes out.