Author's Notes: Nadda

Disclaimer: I don't own Weiß Kreuz. Rated R for everything. AU and not

Holier than coffin bait

Arrivals, Departures, Discoveries and Escapes

He was staring into a single golden eye, and the madness there was enough to put a shiver of fear in his gut. The face swimming before him was heavily scarred, the lips thin, cheekbones high and sharp as knives. There was blood splashed on the stranger's chin and as he watched the madman licked it away, watching him for a reaction.

"God cries." The other murmured, and his voice was husky. "He mourns."

The pale man extended a hand, pointing and he followed the gesture. The sight before his eyes made his stomach roll, made sweat glaze his palms. He swallowed heavily and forced himself not to look away.

Long pale hair, limbs twisted, all spattered with blood and gore. Once upon a time she'd been a sixteen year old girl; now she was only so much meat.

"I will punish Him."

"You're fucking off your rail."

He turned at the new voice, finding its rough accent strangely familiar. Smoke billowed and blew into his face, suffocating. The man standing a few feet away in the darkness had fiery orange hair and mocking green eyes.

"What's wrong Braddy? Farfie's playing doesn't turn you on?"

He opened his mouth to reply with something icy and cutting but closing it abruptly as the sound of retching reached his ears. He twisted around to see the dark-haired boy kneeling in between the church pews, decorating the tiled floor with the contents of his stomach.

"Poor chibi. I don't think he likes Farfie's artwork."

"Shut the fuck up Schuldig."

"What was that?"

Bradley blinked, the vision receding until he was left staring into Mac's concerned face. They were standing in the practice ring of the gym and the man that Brad was supposed to be sparring with was standing a few feet away, looking uncertain. Mac had a claw-like grip on his wrist and his eyes were dark with anxiety.

"Sorry?" Bradley murmured.

"You said something. Are you feeling all right? For a minute there it looked like there was nobody at home."

For a moment the fighter simply stared at his trainer with a surprised look. Then he flashed a friendly smile and shrugged, folding his arms across his chest.

"Just spaced out. Sorry Mac. Were you saying something to me?"

"I was just trying to tell you that you have five matches coming up in the next month. If you win at least three of them you'll be able to take that vacation you were talking about before."

"That's great." Bradley grinned, excitement flaring in his amber gaze. "Wait until I tell Yume."

"Tell me what?"

They turned to see the young Japanese woman standing at the edge of the ring, her long dark hair pulled back into a high ponytail. Bradley's face lit up and he hopped out of the ring, pulling her in for a quick welcoming kiss.

"I didn't expect you to come by today." He said, sliding an arm around her waist.

She smiled, reaching up to brush sweaty bangs out of his eyes.

"I was in the neighborhood for work and thought I would stop by." She glanced at Mac, then back at her boyfriend. "So, what is it that you were going to tell me?"

"I have five matches coming up." Bradley explained happily. "If I win three of them then we can take that vacation trip we were talking about the other day. You know, go to the city you were telling me about. In Germany."

"That sounds wonderful."

Yumemiru hugged him, trying to ignore the sudden painful squeezing sensation in her chest. A month! She'd been hoping for a little more time to get to know him before she had to follow through with her plan. Now she only had a matter of weeks to reveal herself to him and to convince him to show her what he could do in return. Then it would be time to explain about the school, give him the offer from Rosenkreuz and…break his heart.

She closed her eyes and swallowed. Why did it have to be so soon?

Completely unaware of the chaos that filled Yume's mind, Brad hugged her in return and, after a moment, pulled away to smile down at her.

"I'm done for now." He said. "Do you want to go get something to eat?"

She smiled at him and when she spoke her voice was calm and even, as if there was nothing wrong.

"I'd love to."

The crate arrived at half past three on Wednesday morning. It was large but not very heavy and had a large stamp on the side that said Fragile. There was also a sticker on the top with information as to where it had come from, where it was going, and who it was for. The name of the recipient was Valhendt and the package itself had come all the way from Ireland.

There were three men standing around the crate, regarding it with thoughtful expressions. Their skin was slick with sweat and they moved a little stiffly, as if they had been working all day long.

"Is this the last one?"

"Ja. It goes to the Shipping Gate 3A. Why don't you load it onto the trolley and we'll just drive it down there? Easier than trying to carry the damned thing all that way."

"Great. Bring the trolley over and we'll load it up."

Two of the men lifted the cart while the third retrieved the trolley.

"This is really light." One of them commented.

"Yeah. I wonder what's in it."

They glanced at each other and, slowly, they began to smile. One of them whipped out a crow bar and knelt down, slipping the edge of the lip of the crate.

"Fifty bucks says its some kind of expensive china."

"You kidding? A crate like this? It's some kind of exotic pet."

"I say you're both wrong. It's probably something stupid like a bunch of expensive figurines."

"Well then let's just find out."

The lid lifted a little and a crack appeared, a small space of darkness. Three heads leaned in expectantly for a moment before one of the men cursed.

"Get the light out of the trolley."

After a few minutes they adjusted the angle of the flashlight they'd retrieved from the trolley and…

The beam reflected in the circle of a pair of golden eyes.

"What the hell…?"

A hand erupted out of the opening in the crate, seizing the closest man by the throat. Blood spurted as long fingernails dug into the skin, crushing the windpipe and ripping flesh until the spine appeared, wet and glistening through the blood. The man swayed, the expression on his face shocked as he fell backward, the light fading from his eyes. His companions remained where they were, too shocked to move as a second arm followed the first, grasping blindly.

The crate erupted suddenly in an explosion of splintered wood and nails, a pale figure flying up out of it with arms outstretched. Both remaining men screamed wordlessly, scrambling backwards with fear in their eyes.

With a howl of rage the madman flung himself toward his accidental rescuers, golden eyes filled with hatred.

Twenty minutes later one of the other workers found what was left of the three men. They were splattered all over the loading area, their bodies almost unrecognizable as human remains. Blood pooled on the floor and there were bloody footprints leading off into the darkness. Eyes wide with terror the living man ran, his heart pounding in his chest as he fled the heavy scent of death that pervaded the scene.

He called the police, unaware that there was a crazed Irish boy hiding somewhere in the shadows, his hands stained with blood as he whispered the words of a prayer over and over to himself.

"Hail Mary, full of grace the Lord is with thee…"

The teenager was sitting in the dingy hallway of the apartment building, hands clasped loosely around his knees. Inside his parents were fighting again, their voices drifting out through the cracks, deafening. He shivered and pressed his face down, shutting his eyes and covering his ears with his hands. The noise continued unabated, this time echoing inside of his mind until he could think of nothing else.

There's nothing wrong with him! He's just fine! He's smart and caring and he'd never do anything to hurt anyone.

That was his mother, always defending him. He smiled ruefully. She was a tiny woman barely topping five feet with a waist that he could span with his hands. Despite that, ever since his…gifts had first become evident she had fought like a tiger to protect him from…

There's something wrong with him. He's a freak, a monster. If we don't do something…put him away…make sure he can't use his abilities…

…his stepfather. The man hated him, was afraid of him. Given the chance, the teenager knew the man would ship him off to the nearest mental institution for the rest of his life.

You can't do that. He's my son! If you only knew, if you'd seen him as a child you would understand that there's nothing wrong with him. It's just the way he is.

He's not normal. He'll never be normal. For all we know these abilities are only going to intensify until one day he's so strong that it will take less than a thought to hurt people. Power corrupts! Don't you think that if he finds out he can play with people's minds on a whim that it might affect him!

He would never do that! He's…

His mother's voice fell silent and he closed his eyes, feeling tears spill against his lashes.

"Margo! Margo what's the matter?"

He opened his eyes with a gasp, scrambling to his feet and reaching for the doorknob. He tugged on it, tried to turn it and cursed when he realized that his stepfather had locked him out yet again.

"Let me in! What's wrong?" He slammed his fist against the door, feeling desperation beginning to well up inside of him. "Mother! Mother what is it?"

The door opened and he was thrown backwards, his back hitting the wall with a painful thump. He stared up at his stepfather with wide, angry eyes, hands clenching into fists as he struggled to his feet.

"Where's my mother? What happened to her?"

"You little shit." The man moved toward him, reaching for him. "What have you done?"

He dodged past his stepfather and rushed into the small living room, eyes scanning the shabby furniture.

"Mother…." He said the word in a voice that was almost a sob. She was lying across the couch, head tilted back, staring blankly at the ceiling. He moved toward her, shaking badly, almost unable to walk. "Mother what…?"

She was breathing but there was no response when he moved his hand in front of her eyes. When he reached out tentatively with his mind he found nothing but blankness, a gray mist swirling before him with nothing inside of it.

"Mother…"

"Get out. Get out you freak! You did this to her. It was you!"

His stepfather was hauling him away and he fought back, kicking, flailing, trying to escape. He wasn't strong enough to get away, to get back to his mother's side. Instead he found himself thrown into the hallway once again. His head slammed into the wall hard enough that he saw a swirl of red stars. The last thing he was aware of was his stepfather aiming a vicious kick at his ribs and the explosion of pain that spread outward from his chest. Then he felt a trickle of something hot sliding down his neck and the darkness ate his vision until there was nothing left.

Suichi despised planes. He regarded them with the same fearful hatred that people regarded the things that they were phobic about. The fact that he was sitting in one for the fourth time in a week was astonishing. This, he told himself, was more than facing your fears. This was ridiculous, idiotic, pointless and…well, utterly necessary. Damnit. There was actually a reason why he was doing this, which was why he hadn't gotten off before the plane left the airport.

I've been killing people for years now. He thought dryly. But the part of my job that I hate the most isn't being elbow-deep in blood, it's having to get on a plane.

There was definitely something wrong with that.

"Attention all passengers," the intercom rang out. "We are approaching our destination and will be coming in to land in approximately fifteen minutes. Please fasten your seatbelts and prepare for the descent."

Suichi watched the other passengers fastening their seatbelts and tested his own. He hadn't bothered to take it off more than twice during the entire flight. After a moment he forced his hands to the armrests, fully aware that he was gripping them so tightly that his knuckles were turning white.

You're being stupid. He told himself.

Stupid, sure. A voice somewhere in his head agreed. But after surviving more suicide missions than should be humanly possible, you'd rather be stupid than plunge to your death in a ridiculous freak accident.

Of course, he couldn't disagree with that logic so he thought it best to just shut up and wait for safety to arrive.

They hit a little turbulence then and he winced, trying not to whimper. Instead he focused on his impending mission. In less than two hours he would be preparing to kill the precog known as Bradley Crawford, a man who, as of yet, had absolutely nothing to do with Rosenkreuz. Of course, as Persia had pointed out often enough to ensure that Suichi had memorized the words,

"Sometimes you have to stop the fire before it starts and that means taking precautions. If one death will stop hundreds, then that should be enough."

And, Suichi thought with a sigh, it was. Or at least, that's what he had convinced himself over the years. After all, if he didn't think that way, he might just go mad.

The little boy was standing on a street corner, a thin jacket the only thing separating him from the cold air. He was crying softly, the tears making tracks down his cheeks to drip from his sharp chin. His clothes were ragged and dirt smudged his face and hands, making him almost unrecognizable. If his parents had seen him, they would not have known him for their son.

Not that they'd treated him like he was their son in the first place.

"Hey kid, what are you doing out here?"

He turned to see one of the old homeless men, Tsuko, standing a few feet away. The man was holding an old shopping back in one hand and a grimy sandwich in the other.

"Nothing." The little boy replied, wiping the tears from his eyes with the back of a filthy sleeve.

"Hey, you hungry?" Tsuko inquired. "There's a whole bin full of sandwiches back behind the American fast food place on the corner. If you want a decent meal you could try over there."

"Thanks." The boy said softly, trying not to shiver as he slipped back into the alleyway. He limped a little as he moved, his face a mask of pain. After a few paces he stopped and looked down at his foot, feeling a whisper of despair rush through him.

He'd been trying to get his hands on some scraps from one of the local delis. When one of the men brought out the trash bin he was ready and waiting in the shadows, trying not to let the hunger of his stomach outweigh his good sense. If the man knew there was someone was out here, he wouldn't leave the food.

The man deposited the trash in the larger dumpster and disappeared back into the warmth of the shop. Delighted at the opportunity, the boy had darted forward and hopped up into the dumpster, digging through the bags for something good.

He hadn't seen the dog until it was too late. Now the wound was beginning to fester, oozing pus down his leg. It hurt so badly he could barely stand to put weight on it at all, but there was little he could do about that.

With a tiny, pained sigh he pulled away from the building he was leaning against and hobbled further, toward the promise of food. It would be cold, greasy and probably full of flies but…

His stomach growled loudly. If the fast food place proved to be a bust he knew a pizza shop not too far away, and they always had good leftovers.

"I have to move the deadline up." Yume said softly into the telephone, watching the doorway to ensure Bradley didn't walk in on her.

"What do you mean you have to move the deadline up? I thought we agreed that three months was the right timeline."

"Look, he's progressing faster than I'd anticipated. He has a vacation in a little over a month and it'll be the only one for quite a while. It's the only real opportunity that we're going to get."

"Can you do it?"

Yumemiru sighed, closing her eyes for a moment as she fought with a rush of nausea. She didn't want to do this at all but…

"Yeah, I think I can swing it. I still have to tell him about what I can do and talk to him about the school but…I think I can make it work."

"Why can't you just tweak him a little bit and take care of all that right now? That would give him a month to get accustomed to the idea before you dropped him on the doorstep."

"It doesn't work that way." She rolled her eyes. "It would wear off when his body's natural chemistry overcame the imbalances that I created. He would be far less cooperative then and I wouldn't be around to doctor him back up. Not to mention he'd be harder to trick a second time around."

"Fine. Do whatever you need to but remember that this has to be for real. You can't just leave him here if he doesn't want to be here."

"I know that." Yume snapped. "Probably better than you do." She ran her fingers through her hair. "Look, I can take care of it but I want it made clear that after this, I'm done."

"Why Yume, would I go back on our contract?"

"If you thought it would serve your purposes, yes."

"Well it won't serve my purposes to have you angry at me Yume. Don't worry about it, the minute we're certain that you've done your job I'll transfer your file and you'll be on your own, just the way you want it."

"Good. I'm going to hold you to that."

Then she raised her head, hearing the familiar sound of her boyfriend's footsteps in the hallway.

"I have to go now. I'll be in contact."

She put the phone back in its cradle and plastered a wide smile on her face as Bradley walked into the kitchen. He returned the smile upon seeing her and held up a hand in greeting.

"Hey honey. How do you feel about staying in tonight? I thought we could rent a few movies, break out the popcorn…" He trailed off with a sharp gasp, his eyes going unfocused as a vision assaulted him.

"Brad?" Yume moved toward him slowly, putting concern into her expression as she came to stand in front of him.

He came back with a jerk, stumbling slightly as his vision faded and he was left staring down into her face. He looked slightly disoriented, as if he'd been in an entirely different environment only a few moments before.

"Yume…what?"

"Are you all right?" She pressed, careful not to touch him. Physical contact this soon after a vision could trigger a second episode, and she did not need him seeing their future together, or lack there of.

"I'm fine I just…"

She took a deep breath. This was it. Now or never…

"This is like, the fiftieth time you've done that since we met." She pointed out. "What keeps happening to you? It's not medical is it?" She made sure to put a timbre of fear into her voice, hoping to invoke his need to reassure her without using her gift.

It worked like a charm.

"Maybe we should put a hold on the movies." Bradley said reluctantly, leading her to the kitchen table. "I guess…we've been going out for a while now. I should probably tell you…"

Satisfied that the conversation was going in the direction that she wanted it to, Yume allowed Brad to nudge her into a chair. Then she proceeded to act surprised and interested as, for the next half hour, her boyfriend told her things that she already knew.

Three of the four members of Weiß were sitting in the darkened room of the safe house, staring up at Siamese as she dictated their new assignment. Apparently some men at the airline had turned up dead and Persia suspected that it was somehow related to the mission he'd sent Suichi on. The fact that it was going to take three men to pursue this lead where only Suichi was needed for the other was…telling.

"Because of the intensity of the attacks we believe that this boy is responsible."

A photo appeared on the screen, a pale young boy with scars all over his face and spiky white hair. His eyes were a strange golden amber and they gleamed into the camera with an eerie light.

"His name is Jei. Just last year he butchered his entire family in a fit of rage. The profile matches, and our sources discovered that he is no longer in the mental institution where he was being contained."

Jin glanced at his two teammates, then up at Siamese with a disbelieving expression on his face.

"He's like, ten years old."

"Twelve actually." Siamese corrected. "The depressants they have him on have stunted his growth somewhat. His age, however, should not matter. Despite the fact that he looks like a child he is very dangerous. To date, he's killed six people that we know of and with these airline workers that makes it twelve. Three were killed in the storage area, three more on a path leading out of the airport."

"So we're supposed to….?" Jin raised his eyebrows, questioning.

"Kill him." Siamese finished. "We believe he is hiding in this area, just outside of the airport." She gestured to the map on the screen. "All you have to do is find him and kill him."

"Oh swell." Jin said mockingly. "We'll just go hunt down Mr. Happy-Dagger right now then and we'll give you a call when we've put his head on a pike."

Ignoring the sarcasm the tall woman handed them the file she'd been holding since she walked in the door. Jin scowled but took the file anyway; Weiß wasn't given a choice as to which missions they were going to take. If he ever got to the main offices that rule was the first thing that he was going to change. After all, if they had to kill people, shouldn't they get to pick the ones they were going to kill?

"You will all be leaving first thing in the morning. Any questions?"

Silence.

"All right then. Good luck, I'll see you when you get back."

"Man, what are we going to do without Suichi?" Kiro grumbled.

"Yeah. I mean, if it takes all three of us for this mission I'd feel better having him with us." That was Tanake, his eyes filled with anxiety.

"Relax guys. We got the easy one. Suichi's busy trying to sneak up on a precog. All we have to do is kill some bloodthirsty Irish kid. No big deal. We'll be back here before Suichi's even found his target and then when he gets back we can rub it in his face that we had a second mission while he was still fiddling around with just one."

He grinned and his companions relaxed somewhat at the lightness of his tone. Then they moved back up into the main part of the house, off to begin packing for their flight. They had no way of truly knowing what they were getting themselves into but…maybe they were better blessed in their ignorance. Yeah, right.

Blood. He could feel it, smell it, taste it on his tongue. Somewhere nearby there was something living, something big enough for him to spend some time going after. He was getting sick of killing rats and birds, and the blood had long since dried from the men he'd killed in the cargo area of the airport.

His thoughts went back to the mental institution, to the man he had seen when they opened the doors to his cell. That man, the one who had helped to subdue him in the first place. The man who took Sister Ruth away from him.

He gave a low snarl in the darkness, his golden eyes gleaming with malice as he put the tip of his dagger between his lips. That man was going to have to die soon. His death would be satisfying, soothing to the voices that nattered on and on in the silence. More than that the death would hurt God.

"You see?" He whispered, his voice hoarse. "You see? You hurt me so I will hurt you. I will make you cry. I will take your children one by one and make them bleed, make them beg, make them break. It will be good, to hurt them."

Thou Shalt Not Kill

He snorted, amusement dancing in his eyes as he shifted through the shadows. He moved like smoke, following the blood and the beating heart that filled his ears with its thumping.

"I will make that heart stop." He murmured, pleased with himself and his new prey. "I will make it shudder and cease to beat and then…" He grinned. "Then I will make you cry."

And he disappeared once again, darting through the narrow corridors and back alleys that made up his new hunting ground.

Sorry this chapter was a little later than I'd expected. I've been pretty busy at school and I didn't really have the chance to edit and post.

Next Chapter: Hands in Chains, Death in a Smile

Look for the update starting on the 21st of September