Sunday 1.11 Up on the Rooftop

[fieryredqueen.livejournal.com]

The employees in the back rooms of Murakawa's supermarket were busy unloading shipments from the trailers of a couple of rigs--monthy or bi-monthly shipments, probably--so Farfarello was able to slip past them unnoticed, even though he was carrying a basket with the Murakawa logo printed in glaring white on all sides. The supermarket took up the bottom floor of a ten-story building, and there was an ancient-looking fire escape in the alley between the market and the bank next door. There was also a permanent escape ladder further on that looked a little newer, and went straight from the roof to ten feet above the ground. Farfarello was no grasshopper like Schuldig, but he could easily make a jump like that--another thing he could thank Eszett scientists for. Of course, while experimenting to enhance both speed and jump-range in the same muscles they'd rendered many other sets of legs completely useless, but they'd had some success with Farf.

In a flash he was climbing madly toward the roof, basket dangling from the crook of his elbow. He was still suppressing whatever it was that was welling up, but it was getting more and more difficult. It felt like if he let it out it would shatter him to pieces, and he certainly didn't want any witnesses for that. Well, except Schu. The telepath had seen (and probably at least partially experienced) a lot of Farfarello's worst moments; he wouldn't mind if Schuldig saw him collapse from this, no matter how messy it was.

Farf used the rails to vault over the edge of the roof, scaring some pigeons away in a flurry of feathers and startled cooing. He let the basket drop, and then collapsed on all fours, releasing his hold on whatever was inside him. It sort of felt like he was going to cough up all of his internal organs; that would be interesting. It would probably amuse Schuldig, too.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, suddenly, he burst out laughing. It took him completely by surprise. He'd cackled, even chuckled, maybe giggled once or twice, but he couldn't remember ever really laughing. He couldn't even recognize his voice. He fell on his side on the concrete, holding his stomach, laughing so hard that his sides felt like they would split open from the force of them, so loud that he was sure everyone in Tokyo could hear him. Tears streamed down both sides of his face--nothing wrong with the tear duct in his left eye, at any rate. The thought inexplicably made him laugh even harder, and he couldn't stop. It felt like he'd never stop.