The Black Cross

Yohji had actually spent a fair amount of time contemplating what he'd do if he ever found himself in just this sort of situation. The possibility of finding himself trapped, with Schwarz, alone was never something he would have scoffed at. It certainly was a scenario that warranted some degree of planning.

From the security of the Koneko, it had seemed quite logical that the first and most important thing to do would be to try and keep Schuldig out of his head. In theory, not an impossible task; all he thought he'd have to do is make sure that his mind was sufficiently filled with white noise. He thought an annoying jingle, or meticulously rehashing some boring book he read in school would do the trick.

Yeah, that was all well and good in theory.

Yohji was quickly discovering that he fell a long way short of having so disciplined a mind.

Big fucking surprise.

He couldn't turn the bad thoughts off.

What the hell are they going to do to me? Definitely torture. Mental? Physical? Probably both. They'll probably let that one-eyed freak slowly cut off all of my extremities while they keep me alive. They probably have worse things in store, that I can't even think of.

Should have put in more time meditating with Ran. That's a skill I could really use right now.

Fuck, Ran.

I'm probably never going to see him again.

Wish I'd made a move when I had the chance in the bathroom.

Stop thinking about Ran! Not around him. Fuck, think about Asuka. Asuka's safer. They can't hurt her.

Probably going to get to see her a lot sooner than I'd planned on now....

He was so wrapped up in his own head that he barely heard Berserker speak.

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Schuldig smirked as he carried Yohji inside of the apartment, his eyes casting about for a tall, pissed off American as he headed for his own room. "Of course he won't be staying in your room." Schuldig snorted. "I got a new pet, and I'll take care of him. At least until I get bored."

With that, he wisked his new pet into his bedroom, setting him down and using his spare sets of handcuffs to keep him immobile. It would work until he got around to finding his rope. Not the good silk rope, but the other rope.

He grinned, crouching down by the nearly unconscious man. "Such a wonderful mind. I never knew that fear and the jingle for detergent went so well together." He chuckled, running a hand through the blond hair. "Look on the bright side."

Let him imagine what the bright side might be. Schuldig quite enjoyed Yohji's imagination.

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On the bright side...

Asuka's already dead.

They didn't take Aya-chan.

...mean's Ran's probably gonna be okay.

In the long run, anyway.

Yeah, Ran will be fine.

No family. No big tragedy. Calm the fuck down man, you're really not worth it.

....

Why the fuck am I thinking what that asshole wants me to think??!!!

He stared blankly at the handcuffs and bit the inside of his lip, focusing all of his concentration on the sensation of self-inflicted pain.

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Schuldig laughed, patting Yohji on the head. "Very good. Ran is better off without you, isn't he. They all are, really. Everything you touch decays and dies."

His hand moved down, stroking Yohji's cheek as he helped mentally stir those thoughts of Asuka to the surface. How Yohji loved her, how Yohji failed her, how she died because she trusted him. "Think about that for a while." He said as he stood, turning to his closet to find the rope he kept there.

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Yohji fought his mind's eagerness to agree with the spiteful words Schuldig was feeding him.

Yeah they are. Yeah it does. Everything fucking does.

...No it doesn't.

Does.

You're not so bad with the flowers, eh?

Who gives a fuck about that!

They don't die.

You CUT them. Of course they fucking die.

Shut up.

ShutUpShutUpShutUpShutUp.

Try meditating.

You couldn't even do it in a quiet room with Ran. Hell's chance now.

Ran.

Shit. Fuck. DON'T think about Ran.

Asuka would be good at it too.

If she wasn't dead.

You know why she's dead.

Oh Fuck.

He looked around the room desperately, trying to find something else to draw his attention in, distract himself with. It was surprisingly stark.

At least you don't see any torture equipment.

Yet.

He doesn't need it.

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Schuldig chuckled quietly, eventually pulling out several lengths of sturdy rope and moving back to Yohji. He quickly uncuffed the man and flipped him onto his stomach, kneeling down with one knee on his back to pin him there. No way he would let the little wire wielder near a length of rope when he was unbound. Wouldn't be healthy.

The rope was wound around the man's strong wrists, followed by his knees and his ankles. He bent Yohji's legs so that the rope holding his ankles was tied to the rope holding his knees, then a short rope was looped around his neck a couple of times before tying each end to the rope around his wrists. If Yohji pulled too hard, he would choke himself, but at least now he could sit up on his knees if he wanted.

He was starting to get worried that Crawford hadn't come in to bust him yet. But he shook it off. It was a mental game he'd played himself. Let the victim get worked up and panicked for a few hours or days before you actually did anything. They would torture themselves with their own possibilities.

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oracle_dreams
2008-08-20 01:26 pm UTC (link)
Comment Posted Successfully
It was barely over an hour. Crawford could feel his breakfast churning undigested in his stomach. He knew the shit mess that was coming before he had even delivered Nagi's breakfast. Weiss was too much the temptation for Farfarello and Schuldig. And it was guaranteed that his redhead put no thought into WHAT to do with Balinese after he had had his fun.

He brought him HOME. Not to one of the apartments, not one of the safe houses. He brought a high risk captive HOME. The elders might be dead but Rosenkreuz training didn't also evaporate with their demise. Crawford didn't have to guess what Schuldig was thinking because it was clear that he wasn't. At all.

Schuldig needed a less risky hobby.

He spent the twenty minutes between vision and the front door opening in his room, penning up his rage. And his control of it was tentative at best. He made his way to Schuldig's door, silently observing as Schuldig regressed to childhood... it was Christmas and he had the new toy he had always wanted and nothing could possibly distract him.

Crawford walked into the room as Schuldig headed for the bathroom. The redhead was still gloating, his sheer joy radiating off of him most likely without his conscious knowledge. Crawford knelt down to examine the damage to Balinese, tipping his head to the side to inspect the knot that was surely throbbing.

"You are going to need a bucket for when he throws up."

Crawford appraised the old damage that Schuldig had aggravated, adding pain killers and possibly antibiotics to the list of things their impromptu guest was going to require.

"Balinese. What an unexpected surprise." The sarcasm was intentionally thick. He stared into blue eyes, slightly dialated and apparently having a difficulty focusing, concluding that the blond did indeed have at least a minor concussion.

Crawford was seething mad but not a hint of it was in his demeanor or his voice. Schuldig had already compromised them all quite enough. He turned to leave, pausing in the door frame.

"Schuldig, come see me in my office when he is secure."

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The American had always freaked him out.

With Berserker, you could quite clearly see that he was mad. He had the look. Even if he was spared the eye-patch, Yohji had no doubt that he was the kind of guy that people would avoid sitting next to on the subway, if they could avoid it. The creepy vibe was tangible.

Schuldig might have been able to pass himself off as a nice guy if he really tried, but his personality too effectively bubbled over. He couldn’t, didn’t even try, to cover up his glee at causing mayhem, or his complete and utter indifference to other people’s well-being. You rather saw what you were getting into when you faced off with Schuldig.

He hadn’t interacted with the boy enough to form a strong opinion, but Nagi did have his own dark aura. There weren’t a ton of surprises when furniture started flying at you.

But the American…. He looked too normal. He almost looked nice. Although if you looked closely you could see that what you first might take for calm, was really more of a deep coldness. Yohji’s profiling skills had long ago pegged Crawford as serial killer personality. The man belonged in the Yakuza. Or the Manson family….

No, too disorganized. He'd lead his own cult.

Christ I can't believe I'm putting that much thought into that.

Anyway, it freaked him the hell out.

Funny, how it almost seemed like the man might actually be a little bit concerned about him….

Anyway, he hoped the American was right about him throwing up. And that it happened before they found a bucket. Like the clothes, he was willing to bet Schuldig also had expensive sheets. Heh.

Edited Date: 2008-08-20 02:40 pm (UTC)

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[Entering from Wednesday 1.19]

Nagi followed his ears, landing first at the bathroom - where Schuldig was looking futilely for the first-aid kit under the sink. Nagi knew for a fact that the thing was in the kitchen, due to an incident involving some pointies and Farfello a few days ago. He decided to let Schuldig look for it the moment he heard Crawford.

Curiously, he followed his leader's voice further into the hallway and to Schuldigs room. He almost bumped into the precog, who was, apparently, just leaving.
He tried to see what was in there that would require a bucket but Crawford's frame blocked his view.

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Farfarello had gone straight into his room when Schuldig had gotten the kitten into the apartment, fuming silently. He knew - knew - he'd catch some of the blame for this. Even if he hadn't had a hand in bringing the kitten in or fucking everything up.

He calmed himself down by cleaning the stiletto he'd used to keep the blood-kitten in line, coming out in time to see Crawford and now Nagi outside of Schuldig's room where the kitten was. He growled inwardly seeing Crawford, waiting for the American to essentially come down on him. He stood in the hallway, leaning against the doorframe and lifting an eyebrow slightly. Waiting to see what the precog would say and do, looking outwardly calm, though people that knew him like his team would likely be able to see him almost vibrating with tension and annoyance; the remnants of his anger.

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He was in deep shit.

He'd known he would be the moment he walked in the door with the kitten, but with Crawford standing here, perfectly calm in his perfectly pressed suit with his perfectly mussed hair and perfectly manicured nails with perfectly polished glasses reflecting the light in the room... oh yes, he was fucked.

But he didn't let his tension show. Crawford would know. But no sense in letting Balinese see it.

He nodded at Crawford's order, not trusting himself to speak without tensing his voice. Then he continued on his way to the bathroom, digging around a bit before hearing Nagi's mind ghost over the fact that the first aid kit was in the kitchen, now remembering Farfarello's incident. He gathered up a couple of bottles from the medicine cabinate, painkillers and antibiotics, then went to the kitchen to fetch the kit and some damp rags.

Just as he was leaving, he remembered the bucket from under the kitchen sink, grabbing it as well and returning to his room.

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Nagi looked up in one yellow eye, giving the Irishman a defiant look. "I might."
It was a statement more than anything, devoid of emotion to make it into anything else.
Nagi might've been the youngest within Weiss, but he could also restrain any of the team physically if he wanted too. It made sure they had a certain measure of respect to him that he guildlessly used. After all, they had their own ways and he needed to stand up to them in some way...

He had his strategies for each of his teammembers. Farf was easiest and most straightforward. Whenever the man did something Nagi didn't like, he'd simply keep him from doing him or, possibly, when the offense was already done and too serious - in his opinion - he'd dangle him from the sealing for a while. They honestly got along quite well. Farf seemed to like his directness, and Nagi liked the fact that, in his humble opinion, Farf was the sanest person around.

With Schuldig, he was a little more subtle. Apart from physically restraining him, Nagi would annoy the German until he felt Schu got the point. Replacing stuff, hiding his carkeys, telling Crawford whatever idiocy Schuldig had displayed that he hadn't told on yet... He realized it was rather childish, but so was the telepath, and it worked.

Crawford... Well he didn't usually have reason to disagree with the precog. And if he did, he kept quiet about it. You just didn't disagree with the man, period (No matter how stupid Schuldig could be).

He turned to Kudou again than. "You want some water?"

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Farfarello waved a hand at Nagi, then mussed up his hair as he passed him to head out of the room and go into the livingroom. Maybe he'd watch tv until Crawford was finished with Schuldig. Hopefully they'd still have a living, working telepath by the end of the night, but he didn't doubt that the temptation to kill Schuldig over this particular stunt might be overwhelming. Especially for someone as focused on 'control' as much as Crawford was.

Farfarello settled himself on the couch and turned on the television, turning on a movie channel at random and grinning when he saw Fight Club was playing. Well, at least he would be plenty entertained, that was for sure. He loved this movie..

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Not my idea of perfect, not by a long shot…

Perfectly *creepy* maybe….

He watched with apprehension as Berserker approached him, aware that nothing good could possibly come from the proximity. That the jab didn’t take him by surprise did little to temper the pain.

Had he not been so tightly bound he would have doubled over from it. As it stood he could do nothing more than cringe and bite his tongue in the effort of not crying out.

Note to self. Your instinct to avoid Berserker’s attention ought to be followed.

His eyes then turned to Nagi, surprised. “Grateful” didn’t quite seem like the appropriate word for this particular situation, but he was relieved at the intervention.

He jerked his head away from Farfarello's touch, and then nodded in response to the offered water. He wanted to refuse on principle, but he knew he needed it. The kid was probably just plying him to drop his guard though.

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Nagi bristled at Farfello mushing his hair, annoyed more out of habit than anything else. He put his hair to rights and tried very hard not to hear the sounds from Crawford's office down the hall in the silence that'd fallen. He was very grateful when the muffled 'thuds' and other sounds were overpowered by the sound of the tv. He might not like most movies - they were mostly stupid, inaccurate, unrealistic and a waste of time, in his opinion - but right now he was grateful that they existed.

At Yohji's nod, he blindly made a glass of water float over from the bathroom. It was near anyway, and he knew the place well enough that it didn't matter he couldn't see the real thing. The picture in his mind was enough.
The water came floating in a bit later, right into his hands.
Nagi stared at it for a moment, than tentatively walked over to Kudou. He didn't relish the thought of physical contact with the man, but feeding him water would be a lot easier when he could actually touch and anticipate.

Telekinetically, and way more gentle than was strictly necessary seeing that the man was one of his sworn enemies, Nagi pulled Yohji upright and brought the glass to his mouth.

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The water brought more relief than Yohji expected. He was apparently far more dehydrated than he realized, and the liquid made an almost immediate difference in dispersing the medication. The piercing tension all over his body began to ebb, although only subtly.

It certainly improved the taste in his mouth, anyway.

It for a second surprised him that Prodigy was able to so effortlessly move him, before the rather obvious fact that it was hardly taking muscle strength for him to do so was remembered. The kid is small. He looks younger than Omi....

While he'd never seen Prodigy do anything other than frown, there seemed to be an extra depth to the scowling just now. Whether it was due to his inconvenient presence, or the raucous noise coming from down the hall Yohji wasn't sure.

Another thing he wasn't sure of, but Yohji could almost swear that he heard Tom Waits competing with the cacophony. It seemed ludicrously fitting.

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oracle-dreams.livejournal.com

As Crawford passed through the living room he tapped Farfarello on the shoulder, heading once more for Schuldig's room and their guest.

"You and I are going to tie up a few loose ends."

He walked into Schuldig's room, quickly appraising his youngest assassin and surprised to find him still hovering over Balinese. The blonde was no threat to him. Perhaps his curiousity was just aroused.

Crawford sat on the edge of the bed, gripping up Balinese by the jaw, fingers just squeezing into his cheeks. Not hard but definitely not comfortable either.

"I suggest you offer Schuldig whatever it is he wants to know. He will get what he wants whether you offer it to him freely or not. But I would prefer to not return you to your team in a persistant vegetative state." Crawford's word were flat and emotionless, except for the smallest hint of a smirk.

Bombay would have been more useful because he was the brains of their team. Abyssinian would have been more useful because Brad just had to renew contact with him to kick his visions back into gear. Balinese was useless. And something told Crawford he was not going to enjoy the visions that contact with the man would produce. But, it was necessary and would hopefully be productive. With the randomness of his visions lately he could only continue to operate as usual and hope his gift evened itself out. He just needed to stay in contact long enough.

He released the blond's face, his hand trailing down to his shoulder inspecting the wound, poking at its borders, assessing it's depth.

"This is fresh. And serious. Did your team fail to back you up?" Crawford had no interest in the answers. It was merely an excuse to stay in contact without raising too many questions. The blond was once a detective after all. The less Schuldig had to wipe from his memories the better.

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Yohji had always assumed that Berserker was the member of Schwarz that he'd find the most unsavory to be trapped in a room with. The man was psycho, right? And way too fond of sharp objects.

Funny then, how Oracle's appearance suddenly filled him with a much keener sense of dread than any other contact with his opponents thus far. Must have been the noises that he knew weren't just coming from the TV....

Scary.

He looked back at Crawford, determined to keep his eyes hard. He wanted to keep his vulnerability locked away from this man above all else.

"I already told him I don't know shit," Yohji hissed, almost entirely truthfully. "They kept us in the dark about the details."

Fuck, already said too much! Now he'll want to know who 'they' are. Fuckin' hell.

He didn't respond to the question about his injury. It didn't seem relevant, and he certainly wasn't going to volunteer any extra information without forcible means.

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Nagi had taken a step back as soon as Crawford entered the room. With the same analyzing, dispatched look he'd given Farfello earlier, he looked as Crawford threatened Kudou. So Crawford was at least planning on returning the man to his team... That was good to know. Also, for some reason, it was a relieve...
Nagi resolved to keep those thoughts to himself at least.

In the mean while, he looked Crawford over for signs of how bad it'd been, with Schuldig. He couldn't discover much, but... He shied away from the thought. Crawford actually hitting one of them, not just a slap in the face, but really hitting... It made something akin to panic swell in his chest. He couldn't remember any other time that'd happened... Crawford had always been firm with them, and when they didn't obey, he'd let them feel the consequences, but he'd never... Beaten them.

Silently, he turned and left in search for Schuldig.

[Leaving for Wednesday 1.27]

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Farfarello damn near pouted when Crawford interrupted his movie-watching, but stood up obediently. It seemed as though Crawford wasn't holding any of this against him - thankfully - so he was't going to complain about anything just then.

He glanced at Nagi when they came in the room with a slightly amused little smile on his lips. It was almost cute, the way he was taking care of Kudou, but he kept his opinions to himself for the moment.

He turned his attention back to Crawford and the kitten, watching almost curiously. He knew what Crawford was doing with the extra contact and hoped it pulled through, but really didn't see why his movie-watching had been interrupted for this. He was sure the precog had his reasons of course.. It would be a little more helpful to him if he knew what they were just then though.

Of course, he'd long since given up on understanding Crawford's motives for things.

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oracle-dreams.livejournal.com

Crawford's eyes narrowed. He didn't expect Balinese to be cooperative. Then again, he wasn't expecting him at all. Until he learned who was setting up this elaborate ruse and to what ends, the blond would remain breathing but beyond that he wasn't committing to anything. If Schuldig had to shred his mind to get answers, so be it.

"So, does Bombay always keep you so thoroughly in the dark? I am not sure I would want to work with a team I didn't trust." Crawford poked the wound a little harder, seeding doubt with a bit of viseral reinforcement. And he passed a glance to Farfarello as well. It was all the warning he was going to get about the tirade that awaited him in the car.

Crawford was getting annoyed. Nothing. The contact spurred nothing. Not even a glimpse of some small mundane thing. He moved to start prodding at the wound on his chest, squeezing at it, blanching the angry skin white.

"Did Sato even bother to tell you what was so important that you risk your life for a disk? Information can be had so many ways. Why would Kritiker send assassins to do a thief's job? Risking your lives for something any hacker worth his harddrive could have extracted with some effort." He pressed his thumb slowly into the wound, straining the fresh stitches with increasing slow pressure. "It says quite a bit about how much Kritiker values Weiss. Don't you think?"

It was all the detail Schuldig could offer so he'd use it to the best effect. He would have to rely on nothing but his formidable training until his head righted itself. He would not dwell on the possibility that that may never happen. That simply was not acceptable.

Crawford pulled away abruptly, and joined Farfarello in the doorway. He turned to look Balinese over one last time, reaching into his jacket and pulling his Walther from it's holster.

"Let's hope that your team values you more than your employers." He released the clip and checked its status, just for show. He shoved it back in hard with a sharp glare for the blond. "The disk or your life... what would their answer likely be? Would they die for you, Kudoh?"

Crawford returned the Walther to its holster and turned to walk away. "I'll let you know their answers."

Crawford headed down the hall, knowing Farfarello was in tow.

[exits to Wednesday 1.28]

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