Schuldig staggered.
"...what's your problem?" Nagi turned to regard his teammate. After taking an hour long shower, Schuldig had finally crawled downstairs and slithered into the kitchen. A moment later he toppled over, knocking the toaster and blender into the sink, gripping his chest as if the heart caged inside threatened to stop or explode.
Nagi's frown of irritation evaporated into a gasp of concern as he caught the pained expression on the German's face. "Schuldig?"
Misty jade eyes turned upwards, "...Farf...Crawford..."
The Oracle had sent out a red alert of panic and fury into Schuldig's mind, it exploded like a pipe bomb.
Struck with a sudden understanding, Nagi switched from running towards Schuldig, and dashed towards the door. Still shaking with pain, Schuldig followed. Nagi took the stairs to the top floor three at a time, Schuldig had to drag himself up, pausing every few steps to shake his head and hiss a curse in German.
Images filled the teenager's mind. Crawford's throat and chest split open under Farfarello's blades. Crawford's head dangling by the bangs in Farfarello's clenched knuckles. Crawford stapled to the wall in a twisted cruxfication parody with Farfarello standing before him, madly mumbling statements from the New Testiment.
"...He who receives a prophet because he is a prophet shall receive a prophet's reward, and he who receives a righteous man because he is a righteous man shall receive a righteous man's reward..."
In his urgency, Nagi blew open the doors to the top floor gymnasium.
"Farfarello!" First Nagi screamed.
Then Schuldig charged in, "FARF!"
"So it will be at the close of the age. The angels will come out and separate the evil from..." The mad man whispered as he continued to choke the blue tinted neck of his leader.
Farfarello felt a telekinetic grasp wrap around his body and sighed. He flew into the opposite wall, barely missing the window glass. At the force Nagi threw him, he probably would have gone through.
Schuldig fell upon Crawford, fingers groping for a pulse, clawing at eyes to see if the iris would dilate. Crawford's back arched suddenly, he released a roar of a gasp. Schuldig sprang backwards in shock, his body became numb from the conflicting mixture of panic and relief.
"Brad..."
A fist buried sharp white knuckles into his face.
It didn't take Crawford long to regain his composure.
Nagi gapped. Even though he stood a good distance away from the Oracle, he took a few fearful steps back as Crawford climbed to his feet.
Schuldig lay on the floor, one hand cupped over his nose, catching the blood that slowly seeped down. His eyes lowered, half lidded, a smile pulled at his jaw. Crawford was okay. 'Damn you, Farfarello.'
"...Lock...him...up..." Crawford gasped, he hadn't captured his breath yet. Nagi froze. "NOW."
Farfarello returned to his feet with ease. The blow was enough to knock out a normal man, but Farfarello didn't feel pain. He stepped towards Crawford than paused, amber eye roaming on to the curled form of Schuldig. His mind slowly equated what happened. He attacked Crawford... Schuldig was punished...
Righteous.
He let Nagi take his arm and docilely walked back to his cell.
*
Schuldig, with a metal triangle wrapped over the center of his face, wanted to get stoned stupid, drunk retarded, and fucked comatose.
He climbed into his clubbing clothes, a pair of outrageous skin tight leopard print pants. A frilly beige Victoria shirt and heavy cream brown leather jacket. Schuldig ran his hair under the sink and on a whim, took Farfarello's bleach from the counter and fired his head up.
An hour later, he emerged looking like a sexed up, dirty blonde, battered house wife. He passed a mirror on his way to his room and gave his reflection a wink, "Hey sexy."
He just needed a purple hat with a green feather.
Hey, the fading black eye and broken nose made him look manly.
"Sigh." Schuldig slipped into his room in search of his wallet and car keys.
"Crawford wants you to stay inside tonight." A calm voice informed from the entertainment system. Nagi crouched on the floor, back towards the German, he shifted through Schuldig's collection of PS2 games, making a mess.
Schuldig crossed his arms, "You should ask before you steal." He sounded more nasal than usual.
"You stole it first." He replied.
"Are we still talking about video games or did the conversation switch over to your virginity?"
"Bwah-ha, see Nagi laugh." He pulled out a disc, mumbled 'found it' and turned around. His squeaked, "What the hell did you do to your hair?"
Schuldig smiled. "You like?"
"No."
Schuldig gave him the finger.
Nagi stood up, "Are you going to stay in?" He sounded a bit desperate, he didn't want to face Crawford's wrath because Schuldig was being an ass. "We can play some games...or...whatever."
He found his keys. Now for the wallet. "Naggles, it would take an act of Wild Horses and Naked Lesbians to keep me here." Schuldig paused and searched the pockets of his jacket. He found his wallet.
"Schu..."
"Ja!"
*
The Hole was the cheapest gay bar in Tokyo's red district. A disease filled slum where men met to do one thing... usually on the bar tables, occasionally on top of the karaoke machine. The Hole was the place desperate, depressed young men came to be gang raped.
Schuldig loved this hell hole.
He sat at the bar staring at the puddle next to his drinking glass, wondering if it was from a spill of another drink or something else. Before his mind could come up with some sarcastic observation, a leathery hand came down around his waist and whispered, "Why don't you lick it and find out?"
Schuldig studied the man and his mask of wrinkles. He shook his head in a way that sent his temporary blonde hair falling seductively over his shoulders, "Are you reading my thoughts?"
"I know what you want, baby." This guy had to be at least sixty.
"Scram, old man. I'm too rough a ride for you." Schuldig smirked, feeling his old nasty self again. "I wouldn't want to throw off your pace maker."
The man drew back, alarmed. Then snarled, "I'm not interested in broken bruises anyway, rag doll."
Rag doll... Schuldig watched him go with a flat expression. Rag dolls were worn out hookers or junkies. Broken porcelain. Rag doll...
Crawford called him Snap Dragon.
"Whew! That guy was just nasty!" A drunken snigger whistled beside him. "Didja see that? His ass hung to his knees. Holy... Hey, waiter, two Charles Caps."
Ass to his knees, hmm? The smile returned to the German's face. A drink was slide next to his empty glass. He placed his lips to the rim and tested the acid. Not bad.
"Hey..." Schuldig asked suddenly. "You want to--"
The drunk beside him finished, "--get a room?"
Schuldig twirled around in his seat to face him, laughing. "Ja..."
He froze.
The drunk flew backwards.
"SCHWARTZ!?"
"KUDOH???"
"...what's your problem?" Nagi turned to regard his teammate. After taking an hour long shower, Schuldig had finally crawled downstairs and slithered into the kitchen. A moment later he toppled over, knocking the toaster and blender into the sink, gripping his chest as if the heart caged inside threatened to stop or explode.
Nagi's frown of irritation evaporated into a gasp of concern as he caught the pained expression on the German's face. "Schuldig?"
Misty jade eyes turned upwards, "...Farf...Crawford..."
The Oracle had sent out a red alert of panic and fury into Schuldig's mind, it exploded like a pipe bomb.
Struck with a sudden understanding, Nagi switched from running towards Schuldig, and dashed towards the door. Still shaking with pain, Schuldig followed. Nagi took the stairs to the top floor three at a time, Schuldig had to drag himself up, pausing every few steps to shake his head and hiss a curse in German.
Images filled the teenager's mind. Crawford's throat and chest split open under Farfarello's blades. Crawford's head dangling by the bangs in Farfarello's clenched knuckles. Crawford stapled to the wall in a twisted cruxfication parody with Farfarello standing before him, madly mumbling statements from the New Testiment.
"...He who receives a prophet because he is a prophet shall receive a prophet's reward, and he who receives a righteous man because he is a righteous man shall receive a righteous man's reward..."
In his urgency, Nagi blew open the doors to the top floor gymnasium.
"Farfarello!" First Nagi screamed.
Then Schuldig charged in, "FARF!"
"So it will be at the close of the age. The angels will come out and separate the evil from..." The mad man whispered as he continued to choke the blue tinted neck of his leader.
Farfarello felt a telekinetic grasp wrap around his body and sighed. He flew into the opposite wall, barely missing the window glass. At the force Nagi threw him, he probably would have gone through.
Schuldig fell upon Crawford, fingers groping for a pulse, clawing at eyes to see if the iris would dilate. Crawford's back arched suddenly, he released a roar of a gasp. Schuldig sprang backwards in shock, his body became numb from the conflicting mixture of panic and relief.
"Brad..."
A fist buried sharp white knuckles into his face.
It didn't take Crawford long to regain his composure.
Nagi gapped. Even though he stood a good distance away from the Oracle, he took a few fearful steps back as Crawford climbed to his feet.
Schuldig lay on the floor, one hand cupped over his nose, catching the blood that slowly seeped down. His eyes lowered, half lidded, a smile pulled at his jaw. Crawford was okay. 'Damn you, Farfarello.'
"...Lock...him...up..." Crawford gasped, he hadn't captured his breath yet. Nagi froze. "NOW."
Farfarello returned to his feet with ease. The blow was enough to knock out a normal man, but Farfarello didn't feel pain. He stepped towards Crawford than paused, amber eye roaming on to the curled form of Schuldig. His mind slowly equated what happened. He attacked Crawford... Schuldig was punished...
Righteous.
He let Nagi take his arm and docilely walked back to his cell.
*
Schuldig, with a metal triangle wrapped over the center of his face, wanted to get stoned stupid, drunk retarded, and fucked comatose.
He climbed into his clubbing clothes, a pair of outrageous skin tight leopard print pants. A frilly beige Victoria shirt and heavy cream brown leather jacket. Schuldig ran his hair under the sink and on a whim, took Farfarello's bleach from the counter and fired his head up.
An hour later, he emerged looking like a sexed up, dirty blonde, battered house wife. He passed a mirror on his way to his room and gave his reflection a wink, "Hey sexy."
He just needed a purple hat with a green feather.
Hey, the fading black eye and broken nose made him look manly.
"Sigh." Schuldig slipped into his room in search of his wallet and car keys.
"Crawford wants you to stay inside tonight." A calm voice informed from the entertainment system. Nagi crouched on the floor, back towards the German, he shifted through Schuldig's collection of PS2 games, making a mess.
Schuldig crossed his arms, "You should ask before you steal." He sounded more nasal than usual.
"You stole it first." He replied.
"Are we still talking about video games or did the conversation switch over to your virginity?"
"Bwah-ha, see Nagi laugh." He pulled out a disc, mumbled 'found it' and turned around. His squeaked, "What the hell did you do to your hair?"
Schuldig smiled. "You like?"
"No."
Schuldig gave him the finger.
Nagi stood up, "Are you going to stay in?" He sounded a bit desperate, he didn't want to face Crawford's wrath because Schuldig was being an ass. "We can play some games...or...whatever."
He found his keys. Now for the wallet. "Naggles, it would take an act of Wild Horses and Naked Lesbians to keep me here." Schuldig paused and searched the pockets of his jacket. He found his wallet.
"Schu..."
"Ja!"
*
The Hole was the cheapest gay bar in Tokyo's red district. A disease filled slum where men met to do one thing... usually on the bar tables, occasionally on top of the karaoke machine. The Hole was the place desperate, depressed young men came to be gang raped.
Schuldig loved this hell hole.
He sat at the bar staring at the puddle next to his drinking glass, wondering if it was from a spill of another drink or something else. Before his mind could come up with some sarcastic observation, a leathery hand came down around his waist and whispered, "Why don't you lick it and find out?"
Schuldig studied the man and his mask of wrinkles. He shook his head in a way that sent his temporary blonde hair falling seductively over his shoulders, "Are you reading my thoughts?"
"I know what you want, baby." This guy had to be at least sixty.
"Scram, old man. I'm too rough a ride for you." Schuldig smirked, feeling his old nasty self again. "I wouldn't want to throw off your pace maker."
The man drew back, alarmed. Then snarled, "I'm not interested in broken bruises anyway, rag doll."
Rag doll... Schuldig watched him go with a flat expression. Rag dolls were worn out hookers or junkies. Broken porcelain. Rag doll...
Crawford called him Snap Dragon.
"Whew! That guy was just nasty!" A drunken snigger whistled beside him. "Didja see that? His ass hung to his knees. Holy... Hey, waiter, two Charles Caps."
Ass to his knees, hmm? The smile returned to the German's face. A drink was slide next to his empty glass. He placed his lips to the rim and tested the acid. Not bad.
"Hey..." Schuldig asked suddenly. "You want to--"
The drunk beside him finished, "--get a room?"
Schuldig twirled around in his seat to face him, laughing. "Ja..."
He froze.
The drunk flew backwards.
"SCHWARTZ!?"
"KUDOH???"