AN: Okay, I'm obviously a horribly lazy person if it's taken me this long to get back to writing this thing. Seriously, I have no excuse except for the fact that I am a lazy procrastinating SOB. Anyways, thanks again to all you reviewers out there who put up with my laziness. Thanks again!

Rating:T

Chapter 19
Die Flasche

TIME:19:39 UTC+1

Gibson looked around the nightclub, grimacing at the numerous spasmodic, half-dressed, and boisterous twenty-somethings that were periodically lit by the lights that streamed across and around the room. To think that this sort of social scene was considered part of human culture disgusted him in every sense, and, what was more, he was beginning - no, he did regret ever allowing Marcel to drag him here against his wishes.

"I despise you," Gibson muttered as he looked over at Marcel, standing at his side with what most would describe as the polar opposite expression as Gibson's.

The young man turned towards him, a grin still affixed to his face. "WHAT?" he yelled. "I CAN'T HEAR YOU!"

Gibson's eyebrow twitched as he mentally restrained the part of him that wanted to disembowel his roommate. "I said: 'I despise you'! And you don't have to yell that loudly."

"Oh!" Marcel continued to grin despite Gibson's pestering. If anything it grew larger. "Well, that's nice! Now let's go!"

Gibson groaned as his roommate more or less dragged him over to the bar.

"C'mon, Gibson, we had a deal," Marcel smirked. "And if you don't follow through, I'll make the rest of your time at the university a living hell."

"More so than you already have?"

"Trust me, I can make it muchworse, especially if you don't change that attitude of yours!" he emphasized the last sentence by jabbing his finger into Gibson's chest. "Here I am being a good friend by bringing you out for a night on the town, and you thank me by being a stick in the mud!"

The blond smiled mockingly. "Yes, your generosity is just infinite, isn't it?"

"You got that right!" Marcel patted his roommate on the back.

Gibson flinched. "Not so hard."

The brunet rolled his eyes. "Oh don't be such a puss - hello..." Mid-roll, Marcel had spotted something vaguely familiar amongst the collection of bottles lining the wall behind the bar. "What do we have here?"

"What are you talking about?" Gibson tried to spot what the other young man was staring at.

Marcel summoned the nearest bartender. "Excuse me!"

A busty brunette that Gibson imagined was hired more for appeal to the male patrons, and less for bartending prowess, walked over towards the two.

"What can I do for you sirs?" she asked, smiling suggestively.

Gibson could tell that Marcel was doing everything he could not to overtly stare at the woman's breasts. Idiot. Its times like this that I wish someone would just punch him.

Somehow, Marcel was able to restrain himself from ogling, and instead pointed behind the woman to a bottle on the back bar. "How much for two glasses?"

"Ah..." she smiled, grabbing a bottle with a pale beige label."You have very good taste. Lucky for you, because it's the grand opening, the first drink is free."

Marcel smiled. "Great!"

"Coming right up then." The woman turned back around and began to pour the drinks.

Marcel looked back over at his roommate. "What?"

Gibson was staring at his companion with murder in his eyes. "You didn't even let me choose!"

Marcel rolled his eyes. "Oh relax." His attention returned to the woman who was now placing their drinks in front of them. He grinned widely. "Thank you."

The woman nodded and went off to serve more patrons.

Gibson motioned at his drink. "Why did you order for me, you arrogant buffoon? Knowing you, you've probably gotten us some kind of drink that's over 50% alcohol by volume!"

Marcel scoffed. "For God's sake calm down; I got you my first drink."

"What?" Gibson was confused.

Marcel held the glass up to the light. "Williamsbirne, I found an opened bottle of it in my parent's liquor cabinet when I was 13." He smirked and looked over at Gibson. "My parents later found out and grounded me for a month, but it was worth it."

"You were 13?" Gibson asked in a very 'Why am I not surprised?' manner.

Marcel laughed. "Yup! I never was the sharpest tack, huh?"

Gibson sighed, although it was obvious that he was more accepting of the situation than before. "What is it exactly?"

"Pear schnapps. It's sweet so you don't really taste the alcohol. Perfect for a first timer."

Gibson raised an eyebrow, "So now you're trying to convert me?"

"Well, I'll admit I wouldn't mind having a drinking partner that isn't an idiot."

Gibson rolled his eyes as he took a tentative sip. He winced and set the glass down. It burns a little bit, but he's right, it's bearable. I suppose I should be grateful; he could have had me drink something far worse.

Marcel took a much larger sip before setting his glass down. "Also, girls do sometimes like the brainy types, so having you as a wingman wouldn't be too bad I guess."

"That's what your life is all about, isn't it, Marcel? Women. Alcohol and women."

"Hey man, lighten up, this is college we're talking about; the best years of our life and all that shit. Hell, you could use a girlfriend yourself, you know."

"No, thank you," Gibson muttered into his glass.

"Aw, c'mon man! Some of the girls I know just lovethe brainy types like yourself, I could set you up."

"No. Thank You."

"Why not? Are you worried that I'd play a prank on you with this? Because even I'm not that cruel."

Gibson set his glass down with a loud 'chink.' "Look, I'm not interested in any girls you could set me up with! Or any other women, for that matter!"

Marcel looked down in shame. "Oh..." He sat in awkward silence for a few seconds. "I'm sorry, I didn't know you were gay."

"I'm not gay!"

"But you just said-"

"I know what I just said!"

Marcel tilted his head in confusion. "So you're bi?" He shook his head. "But no you said you weren't interested in girls..."

"Listen, I'm not interested in anybody! At all."

Understanding slowly appeared on Marcel's face. "Oh..." More awkward silence ensued. "So you've never...you know..."

"No, I've never felt any lust or romantic feelings towards anyone."

Marcel glanced over at his roommate. "That must suck."

Gibson smiled as he stared at his glass, a small hint of sadness in the gesture. "I wouldn't know. I have nothing to compare it too."

"Hey." Marcel picked his glass back up and held it out. Gibson looked over at him. "Cheers."

Gibson smirked and picked his glass up as well, "Cheers."

"You guys, stop!"

"What is it Chiro?" Otto turned around, careful not to step on any of the broken glass in the alley.

"We're getting really close. He should be somewhere nearby." Chiro looked about the alley to see if there were any signs of their last teammate.

"Something tells me Gibson won't be hanging around a back alley, Chiro," said Nova.

Antauri nodded. "We should search the nearby buildings, but remember to be stealthy. We can not allow ourselves to be caught. The last thing we need right now is a commotion."

Sprx descended from the rooftops he had been scaling. "Yeah, well we can already skip that building." He pointed to a building further down the alley where several people had congregated in back, smoking.

"Why?" asked Chiro

Sprx smirked, "That's a bar, kid. No way Gibson would ever be caught dead there, trust me."

Chiro was still confused, but decided to leave it at that. "All right team, let's spread out and find Gibson."

LOCATION:Franz Josef Strauss Airport
TIME:20:23 UTC+1

The sun had finally set as the 767's cargo hold was opened up, gradually allowing the warm light to cast over the supplies.

Steffan Weber sighed as he overlooked it. "I really hate the night shift."

"Really?" Deadpanned his coworker, Erik. "Because I didn't hear you the last twenty times."

"Shut up," He looked for a few seconds more before sighing. "Figures, the lights in the cargo holds always need to be replaced. I'll go get the flashlights from the baggage tractor."

Erik jumped up into the hold. "I'll start getting the bags by the entrance."

"Yeah, sure."

Steffan wandered back to the baggage tractor. He had to dig around for the flashlights; as usual, Erik hadn't put them in their intended spots. When he returned, Erik was no where in sight. Perhaps he'd snuck off to catch a smoke.

"Hey, Erik, I've got them!" Steffan called.

There was no response. It was then that Steffan noticed that there weren't any bags on the baggage train.

"Erik? Are you taking another smoke break?"

There was a thud on the inside of the cargo hold.

"Erik?" Steffan's heart began to speed up.

Steffan climbed up into cargo hold, shinning the light towards where the noise had came from. In the middle of two stacks of bags, one bag was lying on the ground.

Steffan smiled to himself. "It was just a bag, you idiot." He turned around to check the other side of the hold. "Okay, Erik, come on out, we've gotta...AAAAAAHHHHHH!"

On the other side of the hold, Erik's blood soaked body was illuminated by the flashlight.

"Oh God! Oh God! Oh G -" Steffan looked down at his chest, where there was now a blood covered blade sticking out.

Steffan couldn't scream or breathe, and was in such pure shock he felt no pain. The blade was quickly retracted from his body, causing him to stumble forward. He was dead before he hit the ground.

Mandarin emerged from the back of the hold, laughing as the human's blood began to pool. "Very good job."

"Thank you, Master." A dark figure standing by the man's body smiled broadly.

Mandarin jumped out of the hold, looking around in disgust at the human establishment he had found himself in. He set his eyes on the city in the distance. "Come now, boy. I think it's time I introduce you to the rest of my team."