Breakdown

Chapter 20: Assassins Part 1

/Oracle, the kittens are here/

/Good. Stick to your mark, Mastermind/

/Ja ja. I know, Mutter. You already told me a million times/

/Just make sure you do it. You know what's at stake/

/…Ja...Well…Gotta go, Oracle. Berserker's chomping at the bit and my kitty's waiting/

"As is mine…"Crawford smirked as the mental link closed.

Berserker

Farfarello was killing time, as only the mad Irishman could, dicing up the guards he and Schuldig had taken care of a short while ago. It had been fun at first, but now he was getting antsy; his stabbing becoming harsher and more manic as a result, needing to entertain himself with more carnage since his playthings had all stopped responding to his 'game' well over forty slashes ago. He was losing interest.

Schuldig put a halt to his mindless slashing of the dead guard he was currently hunched over by walking into his line of vision and giving him a nudge with his foot, which he barely registered.

"Leave the dead guy alone, Berserker," the German said tiredly, equally as bored, if not more so since he had done nothing but mope in a corner since they had secured the area. "We got some kitties to play with."

Farfarello grinned at the words and instantly forgot about the mutilated guard beneath him, rising to his feet, a wicked gleam in his one seeing eye. He followed the German into the shadows like the good boy that he was, hands still clenching two bloody knives excitedly, knowing exactly which Weiss kitten he'd be shaking hands with.

It wasn't long before their enemies arrived on the scene, and it took even less time for the two arriving Weiss assassins to realize that something was very wrong, having spotted the Irishman's handiwork.

Farfarello's one good eye narrowed in delight as he spotted his target, noticing the brunette tensing up and readying his bugnuks as his companion spoke into his communicator to their missing team members.

"Abyssinian. Bombay. We got a problem…"

Schuldig made his move then and Farfarello watched him step out of the shadows and into Weiss' line of vision.

"Problem?" he said, with what only Farfarello would know was feigned amusement, "I don't see a problem. Do you, Berserker?" The German gave Farfarello a false grin as he stepped up beside him.

Farfarello shook his head, returning the gesture with far more conviction behind it, as he stared ahead at his favourite kitten, watching him crouch low, prepared to charge into attack or defend himself. He liked playing with the brunette most of all because he was hot-headed and threw himself into harms way more easily than any of the other kittens during battle. Farfarello was just itching to make him bleed; knowing that his screams would be far more satisfying to his ears than the deceased guards' had been.

"Schwartz," Siberian and Balinese both growled as one, narrowing their eyes at their respective partners in battle, the tall blond reaching for his garrote wire and the brunette tightening his fists in anticipation.

Schuldig snorted at their reactions and folded his arms. "Aww. They don't look like they're happy to see us," he whined childishly. "Maybe we should give them as warm a welcome as those guards, huh Berserker?"
The Irishman caught the redhead's sudden smirk and understood his words to be the go ahead to let loose and play.

Balinese

Maybe Yohji was just imagining it, or finally going crazy, but he could swear that Schwartz's Mastermind was trying to kill him. Now he knew that he was being ridiculous in thinking it, since as assassins for rival organizations, they were meant to try and kill each other, but usually the enemy redhead took more enjoyment in trying to off him.

To Yohji, it had always been more of a deadly survival game where he just had to last it out until Schwartz was called off, but now…now Mastermind seemed more hell bent on getting rid of him, or at least beating him to a pulp. Yohji didn't know how he'd managed to piss off the German that much, but filling redheads with murderous rage seemed to be a pastime of his as of late.

"What's wrong, Balinese? Can't keep up?" Schuldig hissed as he once again leveled Yohji to the floor with a swift punch to the face, the second hit that connected hard enough to make his ears ring. The redhead followed through with an intended kick to his side, but Yohji managed to dodge the blow by rolling out of the way.

Immediately, he took the offense and flicked out his garrote wire, lassoing the German's wrist as he reached inside his god awful green blazer for his gun, managing to pull it out half way before Yohji gave the wire a sharp yank and the weapon flew out of the telepath's grip and slid across the floor. The blond shot to his feet afterwards and kneed the German in the stomach, releasing the wire from his wrist.

"Oh I dunno," he drawled, "Thought I was doing pretty well." He took the opportunity as Schuldig coughed and hunched over to deck him hard across the jaw, returning the favour from before. He then darted a quick glance across the room to where Ken was fighting Farfarello to make sure the brunette hadn't met the same fate as the guards.

His teammate was bleeding in a few places that he could see, but he was still on his feet and fighting with the same ferocity as he normally did so Yohji figured he wouldn't have to jump in to help him just yet.

It was while Yohji's attention was diverted for those few seconds that Schuldig hit him again, a low blow that dropped him immediately and left him dizzy and his eyes watering. He curled up on himself and moaned in agony. Wasn't there a rule somewhere about hitting below the belt?

"Looks like pretty well's not good enough, Kitty," Schuldig said darkly, staring down at Yohji with disgust. All the blond could do in response was moan, still in too much pain to curse the German out for the underhanded maneuver.

"Balinese, report. What's going on?" Omi's anxious voice sounded in his earpiece, and it took a great deal of effort, but Yohji managed to make his groans sound something like 'Schwartz…playing…dirty…'

Schuldig scoffed as he listened to the private conversation and kicked the ailing blond again, growing impatient after he wouldn't move. "Swallow them back down and get up!" he half growled, "What kind of assassin are you?"

'An agonized one?' Yohji thought, taking a deep breath and swallowing. He rolled over onto his other side and attempted to climb to his feet. It was very slow going, but he managed it without making to much noise, though he couldn't yet stand at his full height.

"Fucking…low," he whispered angrily, his voice half an octave higher than usual.

Schuldig snorted. "Sorry Kitty. Forgot to read the rule book."

"Oh, so you can read?" Yohji answered back with narrowed eyes, straightening up a little.

The redhead tossed his head at the childish comment. "Cheap, Balinese. Very uninventive. But then again, you were never the brains of you outfit. Everyone knows what organ you think with."

Yohji grunted. "Thought we had that in common."

Schuldig smirked at that, apparently calming slightly as the familiar banter began between them "Ja. You got me there."

"So tell me," Yohji said, getting his voice back as he charged at the German, hitting him with a flurry of punches and kicks, some of which connected, "Whose bed did you wake up on the wrong side of?"

It had been an intended joke, one which would normally have earned him a snort of laugher from the telepath, but this time Yohji didn't quite get the reaction he had been hoping for. Instead the redhead tensed and gave him a death glare before hitting him with a mental blast.

Yohji hit the ground hard, though he didn't feel it as it felt as if his whole body was floating, except for his head, which might as well have been cinched tightly in a vice. It was the equivalent of a hundred hangovers rolled into one, or so his calculations told him. He didn't even realize that his nose was bleeding until he felt it drip into the corner of his mouth and tasted the coppery liquid. All the sounds around him became like static, nothing but white noise, but he heard enough of what Schuldig shouted to his companion then to make his blood run cold.

"He Berserker! My kitty's broken. Come finish it off."

Oracle

Crawford smirked to himself as he lifted his blade, hearing the sharp clang as he intercepted the angry redhead's blade; milliseconds before it would have lopped his head clear off. He didn't bother turning his gaze up to see the shock and anger in Ran's eyes; he could see the man's face clearly enough in the reflection in the window.

"Good evening, Ran," he welcomed him in his deep voice, "I'm glad you could make it."