Weiß, Schwarz, Akai, Aoi   von Crion_dm459
                    (A Weiß Kreuz - Get Backers Crossover)
================================================================================
                      Kapitel 4: Night 2: Opposing Forces
                      -----------------------------------


“Rika,” he said, his angry tone showing even though the cell phone, “you
clearly disobeyed my orders.”
	She was silent as she waited.
	Shortly after she left the warehouse, the car pulled up to the road to retrieve
her.
	The old man was driving again. While it made her a bit uncomfortable to allow
him to drive, she didn’t have much of a choice. She had to make her report,
and with the snow, it was impossible to drive one handed.
	“Do you have anything to say in defense?”
	“No,” she replied.
	“I know what he did to you,” he said, his voice falling lower. “I will
allow this occurrence to be ignored, due to the circumstances.”
	“Thank you, sir.”
	He hung up the phone on his side, and she did the same.
	Midou she thought. You’ll get away this time.

	“His guards?”
	“We are assuming just two men, but we do not know anything else.”
	Aya and the rest of Weiß stood on the nearby rooftop. Omi was searching with a
pair of binoculars, and Youji was by the door.
	“He’s moving,” Omi whispered.
	Omi found the situation rather odd. Their target was rather relaxed, his feet
up on the table. It was as though he didn’t know that he was a target.
	But he does know Omi thought, readjusting his sight. If he didn’t know, he
wouldn’t have hired these twins.
	The “twins” that Omi referenced were two men that stood in opposite
corners. Each of them was moderately tall, but that was all that Omi could tell.
They each wore a suit and a mask that was reminiscent of lead of the “Phantom
of the Opera.” The idea of a bodyguard or assassin wearing such a mask was a
bit cliché to Omi, but it was understandable. He could tell nothing about these
men because of the way they dressed.
	“So,” Ken whispered, “any ideas?”
	Omi placed the binoculars in his bag.
	“What we discussed in the car might be best.”
	“Understood.” Aya was already walking to the staircase. Apparently, he was
ready to get started.

	The hallways were empty.
	Originally, they were not. There were a few guards posted, but they were easily
dispatched.
	What Omi did not see was the man in a black suit and hat, calmly walking down
the hallways as if he was a resident.
	“Rather fun,” he whispered, holding the hat with his left hand as he
walked, waiting for his next target.

	Farfarello was sitting in the back of the car, next to Nagi. Schuldig was
driving, and Crawford was in the passenger seat, his eyes half closed.
	No one said a word of Farfarello’s injuries or Crawford’s shock and dismay
at the situation.
	This isn’t like him Nagi thought, moving a pen between his fingers. Crawford
is never surprised. What makes today any different?
	If only Nagi understood the situation, he may have been ready for what was to
come.

	The guards at the front door were no match for Aya and Omi. Omi stayed at a
distance with his crossbow, his deadly accuracy claiming the lives of those who
attempted to move against Aya. Aya’s blade claimed those who were reckless
enough to cross his path. At the back door, Ken and Youji were proving to be an
effective team. This was Weiß, a group of trained assassins, working together
in harmony.
	It was obvious by the way they fought that these four men only had one thing in
their lives: killing.

	“Sir,” the first said, “I believe we should evacuate.”
	“I concur,” the other replied.
	“Eh? Oh,” the man said, standing up and taking his case in one hand. “I
guess it is that time, isn’t it?”
	The first nodded, the mask moving just slightly, but not enough to see his
face.
	“We should proceed with caution,” the second said, walking to the door.
“The guards from the first and second floors have ceased their contact, and
those from the fourth and fifth floors have been removed.”
	The businessman sighed.
	“Another night of work.”

	Youji and Omi moved back to cover the exits. The two stood in the empty lobby.
The worker that should have been in the desk was nowhere to be seen. The
building was eerily quiet, with the exception of the noise from upstairs.
	Even at the sound of gunshots, neither of them moved. They had their plan, and
they would follow it through to the end.
	“Omi,” Youji said, stretching some of the cord from his watch. “Was that
a car I just heard?”
	“Yeah,” Omi replied, checking the crossbow.
	“Do you think it’s the party?”
	“Maybe. We’ll find out soon enough.”

	The second Phantom opened the door and rolled into the hall. He raised his two
guns, one to each side, and began to fire repeatedly. The two assassins, caught
unaware, quickly moved and ducked into doorways.
	The man silently ejected the clips and brought the empty weapons to his hips.
	Aya and Ken used this time to move. Aya charged, his sword ready. Ken made a
running leap, thrusting with the tiger claws on his right hand.
	The first Phantom stepped into the hall at the very last moment and raised his
hand toward Ken. Ken felt his momentum disappear, and felt as though he was
floating. The tiger claws were just a hair from the man’s gloved palm.
	The second Phantom raised the twin weapons at Aya and began to rapidly pull the
triggers. Aya shifted his weight, but was too late. He felt a bullet dig into
his left shoulder, and another graze just above his right shoulder.
	As Aya began to fall, Ken felt a sudden burst of wind, and he found himself
flying toward the wall. Afterwards, everything was black.

	The two walked into the lobby casually enough not to warrant suspicion, but
their immediate action was quite different than a normal citizen.
	The first, an old man with a few grey hairs left on his head and thick glasses
raised his cane to his waist level. The woman shifted her weight into a combat
stance that Youji had seen in some martial arts competitions.
	This is going to be a long night was all Youji had the time to think of.
	The old man, with an amazing level of speed, charged at the two. Omi fired the
bolt from his crossbow, and Youji flicked his wrist to throw his cord.
	With a movement faster than either of them could see, the elder raised the cane
and spun it once. The crossbow bolt shattered against the wooden exterior. The
cord, which should have connected with the top of the cane, was now lying in
three pieces on the ground.
	The man was now standing to their right, the truth of the cane now obviously
revealed. Within the cane was a straight edged blade, glistening in the light of
the lobby.
	“He’s fast,” Omi whispered.
	“Yeah,” Youji replied, stretching more cord from his watch.
	“This will be a challenge.”
	“You’re telling me.”
	Youji’s eyes fell upon the young beauty by the door. She had not moved from
the spot once, which was a sign that she had faith in her partner or surely
could not do anything on her own.
	“Focus on the man,” Youji said.
	“Done.”

	Aya was fighting to stay awake. The bullet had dug in deep, and would restrict
the movement of his left arm. The bleeding was bad, but he did not have the time
to worry about it. The target had run to the staircase, over Ken’s unmoving
body.
	On sheer will, Aya stood up and ran to Ken. He was still breathing, but there
was some bleeding from his head. It was obvious that he had hit his head, and a
concussion was possible. But it would be impossible to get help if the
target’s guards were still moving. Aya started to move, regretfully leaving
his friend behind.

	Akabane saw the two running down the stairs. While he expected two bodyguards,
one would work for amusement at this time. It was obvious that one of them was
preoccupied with the two agents of Weiß that were on the same floor.
	They may be fun later.
	The game of cat and mouse would continue for a short time. They already had a
head start, and Akabane was not willing to be caught in any more strange weather
than he was already facing.

	Focusing on one target proved to be more difficult than it appeared to be.
Every bolt or dart that Omi used was sliced cleanly in half, and Youji could not
get close enough to the man with the speed he had.
	Even though the man appeared to be in his later years, his speed was like that
of a member of Schwarz. His hand movements were faster than Youji’s eye could
follow, and his swordsmanship was enough to make Aya jealous.
	Even with all of the fast movement, the man did not appear to be out of breath.
By the time the businessman and the Phantom came down the stairs, Youji was
already panting for breath, his coat having many cuts from near misses, his
supply of cord nearly gone from the man’s endless cutting.
	“Rika,” the Phantom shouted, “move!”
	The two were running toward the back door. Youji, not taking a moment to pause,
charged the elder man. Omi reached into his coat pocket for his darts.
	With speed that was not expected, Rika ran behind the young boy and placed him
into a headlock. With the same speed, she turned him and began to move backwards
to the door, following the two men.
	Her grip was very tight for a woman’s, and Omi could not break free.
	Youji turned his head slightly to see the events happening at the blinding
speeds. The woman made one final move, and Omi’s body fell limp. She
unceremoniously left the body behind and ran to the door.
	In the time it took for this to happen, the old man moved one last time, and
slammed his cane into the stomach of Youji. Air quickly rushed from his lungs,
and spots danced before his eyes. Youji fell to his knees, trying to breath.
	“That would be enough,” a voice said from the staircase.
	The elder’s blade stopped by Youji’s neck. Any further, and Youji would
have lost his head, but even with the blade resting against his neck, he could
feel how sharp the blade was.
	“And you would be?”
	“Kurodo Akabane. A pleasure to meet you.”
	The figure at the staircase was a man clad in a long black coat, black hat, and
white gloves. Youji had never seen a man in such a mode of dress before, nor was
he used to a man speaking in keigo outside of a shop.
	Youji did not have enough time to see the snap kick to his face, and he saw
nothing afterwards.

	“Dr. Jackal,” the elder said, sheathing his sword. “An honor it is. I am
Wamushi Hiroki, of the Wamushi school.”
	“That doesn’t matter,” Akabane replied. “Shall we get started? I am
beginning to grow bored.”
	“We already have.”
	The elder charged at Akabane. In an instant, his blade left the sheath and was
moving on an unerring course to Akabane’s neck.
	At the last moment, whether by chance or timing, three scalpels left
Akabane’s hand and blocked the weapon.
	Using the opposing momentum, Wamushi shifted his weight forward and pushed down
on the blade. With a slight push of his feet and using the sword for leverage,
he leapt over Akabane.
	In the air, he turned and attempted to strike again with his sword. Again, at
the last moment, the blade and scalpels met, filling the empty lobby with the
sound of metal meeting metal.
	The two leapt backwards, away from each other. Akabane held his hat with his
left hand, the three scalpels in his right hand. Wamushi sheathed his blade upon
landing, holding it at the ready.
	“Interesting indeed,” Akabane said, not a hint of a lie in his voice.

	“Gas!”
	Crawford’s order came from nowhere, and Schuldig did not give it a single
moment of hesitation. He slammed his right foot onto the gas petal, hearing the
engine revving to extremes to force the tires to move in the snow.
	The tires finally caught, and the car moved swiftly toward the intersection.
Crawford’s eyes were still closed, Schuldig’s face showed pure
concentration. Farfarello showed no signs of anything that could be obviously
seen, and Nagi held onto the handle of his door.
	“Right! Brake!”
	Schuldig used his speed to perform the commands as they left Crawford’s
mouth.
	In a normal situation, such an event would have caused the car to make a
complete spin to at least 180 degrees. The car was sliding, and was beginning to
perform the spin. It wasn’t until they reached the intersection when Schuldig
realized what they were doing.
	There was another car coming down the intersection. Upon seeing the car that
Schwarz was in, the driver immediately turned to the left and applied the brake
of his own. The two cars gently tapped each other as they spun together. Neither
car received any more damage than a slight scratch, the passengers showing no
more than an adrenaline rush.
	“Shall we go and meet our friends?”
	Schuldig felt a smile fall across his face as he opened the door and exited the
car. The rest of Schwarz followed suit.
	The other car held three people. The first was their target, a middle aged man
in a business suit. Nothing special about him.
	The other two were of interest. The first was a beautiful woman, maybe in her
early twenties. Schuldig couldn’t tell in the dim illumination of the street
lights. The second was what appeared to be a reject from a play. He wore a mask
that covered half of his face, a suit, and a cape.
	Yup, Schuldig thought, definitely a reject.
	“Rather foolish,” the woman said, looking at the members of Schwarz,
“Don’t you think, Remae.”
	“Perhaps,” the businessman said with a smile.
	“Shit,” Schuldig whispered to himself.
	“We have a problem, Crawford.” Schuldig pushed the thoughts into
Crawford’s mind, and waited for a reply.
	“I know. He’s a fake.”
	“Why didn’t you tell us sooner?” Schuldig’s mental tone was almost
scolding.
	Crawford did not give a reply.
	“Oooh,” the woman said, “I think I like that.” She pointed to Schuldig
and Crawford. “I’ll take those two.”
	“Don’t go too far,” the fake businessman, who was called Remae,
answered.
	“Don’t worry. Renault should worry the most, after all.”
	“It is a pleasure to meet you gentleman in person.”
	The thoughts invaded Schuldig’s mind, and he quickly blocked them out.
	“Aww, that was mean.”
	Crawford looked at her, then back to Schuldig.
	“The same trick,” Schuldig muttered, his hand moving towards his gun.
	“I hope that this will be fun. I’ve heard a lot about you all.” Her smile
was akin to Schuldig’s; alluring and deadly.
	“Renault,” Remae said, moving away from the car. “I’ll leave the child
to you.”
	“Understood,” the phantom said, moving towards Nagi.
	All hell began to break lose from there.

	Aya reached the lobby minutes after Akabane. Youji and Omi were lying on the
ground, but it appeared that they were breathing. Aya could not tell from this
distance, but he hoped that it was true.
	The fight was one to remember.
	Akabane moved with an intense level of speed, but the elderly man was evenly
matched. The two would exchange blows, the small knives blocking the large,
straight blade.
	But there was a difference between the two. While the man in black was skilled
and fast, he was only on the defensive. Each move he made was just to block an
attack, and it was always at  the very last moment.
	At one move, Aya barely saw as he reached the bottom of the stairs, Akabane
extended his open palm. Scalpels suddenly lanced out of a now open wound on his
hand. Only one of them came even close to the elder’s face, leaving a slight
scratch. That scratch was repaid with the sheath of the sword smashing into the
other’s stomach.
	The two stepped back again. Akabane showed signs of fatigue, and the elder
stood still, his eyes closed, his breathing like clockwork.
	“You truly are a skilled bodyguard,” Akabane began, the scalpels
disappearing into his hand again. “But I cannot allow you to stop me.”
	It made sense now. The murders. The cuts with a small blade with sheer
precision, always cutting the letter “J” into his victims. The speed of this
man and the raw murderous potential.
	The smell of blood.
	The other man was a true enigma. If a skilled murderer had met his match, it
would not be possible for Aya to defeat him.
	Options, he thought to himself holding his sword.
	“Iaijutsu,” Aya said calmly, walking into the lobby. “The art of striking
as you unsheathe the blade.”
	“Ah. So the man from Weiß truly is not dead.” Akabane’s voice showed a
trace of humor within it, but his keigo was still without flaw.
	“We may be after the same target,” Aya began, raising his sword to be at
the ready.
	“Understood,” Akabane replied, holding his hat in place, his right hand
stretching out. Neither of them needed to say any more. They knew what would
happen next.
	The two moved in unison towards the elderly man, one with a katana, stained by
the blood of the guilty, and the other with a blade stained by his own blood.

	Renault and Nagi spent a few moments examining the other. Nagi did not know
what the man could do, and was waiting for his opening.
	While only being fifteen, he was still a cold, calculating murderer. He was
waiting for his opening before taking it.
	With a single thought, Nagi tried to push the man, but saw that there was no
effect. He then quickly used the air around him as a barrier as the other moved
the air around him to reach a speed capable of cutting flesh.
	“Interesting,” Renault said, his mask hardly moving. “Is that the only
thing you can move?”
	Nagi and Renault stood face to face, exchanging the control of the wind as one
tried to overpower the other.
	Farfarello, on the other hand, seemed quite busy. Not wanting to waste any
time, he charged at Remae, his poniard already extended.
	The man sidestepped and drew his two pistols from his hip. Farfarello shifted
his weight and snapped the poniard with a flick of his wrist to strike the
weapons. The bullets were harmlessly discharged into the air.
	Remae took a half step forward and raised his knee. Farfarello pressed against
the attack. Losing their balance, the two fell in the snow.
	Rika was proving to be fully capable in her own way. Schuldig quickly drew his
gun and fired. Seeing the speed at which Schuldig moved, Rika quickly adjusted
herself and matched it, sidestepping the bullet and moving in.
	Crawford stepped between them and attempted to make a jab. Rika blocked the
strike, almost as if she had seen it coming, and struck Crawford with three fast
jabs to his stomach. She sidestepped once more as Schuldig fired from his gun
once again.
	“A little too slow,” she teased.
	“What the hell,” Schuldig muttered.
	“She’s good,” Crawford whispered. “I can’t see any of her moves, but
she can’t see mine.”
	“I can’t see her thoughts, and she can’t see mine either.”
	The two paused for a moment and glanced to each other. She stood nearby and
smiled.
	“Have you thought about it yet?” Her smile was perfect.
	Schuldig quickly moved in with his speed and made a few attempts at striking
her, but each strike met with empty air. She replied with a spinning punch to
his stomach, and took two steps back.
	So, Crawford thought after watching this turn of events, she is imitating us. I
am blocking her from seeing my moves, but she can see everything Schuldig will
do before he does it. She matched his speed, and is reading my mind…
	Her smile was full of genuine humor now.
	“You truly are intelligent, Mr. Crawford.”
	The three stood in the gentle snow, not moving. The two men knew what the other
was thinking without using any words.
	They were really in deep trouble this time.
	But, the fights around them were not ending well for the side of Schwarz.
	Nagi and Renault were continuing their dual of the control of air, and Schuldig
noticed something was difficult for the young boy. Renault was attempting to
create a vacuum around Nagi, and was slowly succeeding.
	“Kid, watch it.”
	“I’m trying,” Nagi mentally replied, and it was then Schuldig realized
that the man’s control was more refined.
	Its not telekinesis…he is actually controlling the air itself.
	The fight between Remae and Farfarello was in the favor of Schwarz. Farfarello,
unable to feel pain and his mind set only on the kill, was immune to the pain
that the grazing bullets had caused to him. He was also overpowering his
opponent with relative ease, and it seemed that the Irishman had already won.
	“Remae! Turn into this! NOW!”
	“Farfarello!” Crawford’s shout over the growing winds was barely audible.
“Don’t stop, no matter what!”
	But, Farfarello did stop.
	The man that he had pinned and was ready to drive a knife through was no longer
a man.
	Under him was a woman dressed in a nun’s habit. Her body was covered in
blood, apparently, already cut beforehand.
	The Irishman stopped in his tracks and only stared.
	Nagi fell to the ground, unable to breath. Schuldig and Crawford ran toward
Farfarello, knowing the fatal error that had just occurred.
	The gunshots were the only thing able to drown out the sound of the wind.

	Aya had never seen such speed before in his life, but he still tried to keep
up. He would make an attempt to swing with his right arm, his left hanging
uselessly at his side, the bullet digging deep enough to cause too much pain to
use it. The elder was usually heavily distracted by Akabane’s red blade and
the speed that he possessed, so Aya’s blade usually only met with the
reinforced sheath.
	I was right Aya thought, shifting his weight for another attack.
	His opponent was truly a master of iaijutsu, but there was a flaw that most who
did not study swordsmanship would have noticed.
	The trick is to sheath and unsheathe. Never to be on the defense.
	At this time, the elder, even with his speed, was making feeble attempts, at
best, to keep the two swordsmen at bay. Each attack met with less and less
resistance as the man had less and less time to recover from each attack.
	At one point, both men struck at the same time, each attack blocked by either
blade or sheath.
	“This truly has become interesting,” Akabane said, leaning into the blade.
	Aya only grunted, pushing into his own blade.
	For the first time, they saw the elder breathing heavily, sweat pouring down
his face.
	He cannot effectively block without re-sheathing. It is against his kata.
	The feeling of victory was short lived as the elder made his last move. He
allowed his weapons to give in just slightly, causing both of his opponents to
shift their weight forward. As they did so, the turned, pushing the weapons
slightly. Aya and Akabane were force to take steps forward.
	Both men quickly turn and swung their respective blades. The red blade met with
Aya’s. The old man had ducked under them and was running to the door.
	Before Akabane could reach the door, the man was already in a car that had just
pulled up, and was gone before the door could be opened.
	Aya fell to one knee.
	“We may have the same prey,” Akabane began, “but that is the extent of
our relationship. For today, I will let you keep your life. Maybe we can have
fun another time.”
	Aya attempted to stand, but failed.
	“Next time,” were the last words he heard from the man as he left.
	The members of Weiß were scattered in the building, badly injured. Aya, the
last man standing, had his work cut out for him. He sheathed his blade and began
to walk back up the stairs to find Ken.

	The events were beyond the comprehension of Crawford and Schuldig.
	Nagi was lying in the snow, hardly breathing. Farfarello was lying in a pool of
his own blood which was growing more by the moment. Shuldig’s face covered in
snow, and he sat on his knees, looking at the carnage around him.
	They had a victory Crawford thought, calmly walking to the fallen Irishman.
	Remae had turned into something from Farfarello’s past, causing the berserker
to pause for just a moment. That was all that was needed. With a sudden pistol
jab to his stomach, Farfarello was taken down. While he could not feel the pain
of the bullets, he knew that the blood loss could kill him. That, and the
emotional pain within him must have been taking its toll.
	At that moment, Remae appeared as a businessman again, and pointed his weapon
at Crawford, apparently exhausted. Schuldig, who did not stop, was tripped by
Rika and fell face first into the snow.
	Nothing made sense after that.
	Crawford checked Farfarello’s pulse, seeing that it was faint, but workable.
He knew Nagi was going to be ok, and did not bother to move towards the youngest
member of Schwarz.
	After Schuldig fell, a car pulled up to them. The first on inside was Renault.
Crawford could have sworn that the man was holding his left arm while he walked,
but he could not be sure in the dim light. As Rika moved toward the open car
door, she stumbled and fell into the snow.
	Remae, still aiming the gun at Crawford, walked to her position without taking
his eyes from the American.
	He kneeled beside her, and offered his arm to her. Slowly, she stood up once
more, and with his assistance walked to the car. They closed the door and drove
off, leaving the four to their own whims.
	“Why did they leave,” Schuldig asked, standing to his feet once again.
	“Because,” Crawford said, removing his coat, “they couldn’t finish
us.”
	“That gun was empty, you know.”
	“Yes, I do,” Crawford responded, tying his coat around the wound at
Farfarello’s stomach.
	“So why didn’t we move?”
	“The same reason they didn’t finish us,” he replied with a sigh. “Their
team was injured, just as ours is. They could not stretch the fight any longer,
and they knew we wouldn’t either.”
	“You’re just saying bullshit, aren’t you?”
	Crawford shrugged as he offered his hand to the Irishman.
	“I know you wouldn’t believe anything I said, but at least this makes
sense.”
	Not able to argue the logic, Schuldig moved to Nagi’s side. The young boy was
breathing, but Schuldig could tell that his pride was hurt more than his body.
	The hunters are the hunted he thought to himself, moving the child into the
car.
	They took Farfarello to the hospital, and checked Nagi in as well to be safe.
The second was Schuldig’s idea, and Crawford did not argue the point.

	After an hour passed, Crawford looked to Schuldig.
	“We will have company here,” he said, nodding to the door.
	“Again?”
	“I don’t mean that,” he said, readjusting his glasses. “I mean our dear
‘friends.’”
	Schuldig’s mind started as a blank, but it eventually made sense. Seeing the
four finished it for them.
	Two of them were conscious, and each had a person on their shoulder.
	The four of them felt as though time had stopped. The two groups of killers,
Weiß and Schwarz, entering the same hospital. Crawford had known that they
would arrive because of injuries from their job, and knew that Schuldig would
search their minds to find out that it was the same job that they were just on.
	“Hold it,” Crawford said as Aya’s body clenched and Youji instinctively
moved his watch to his mouth. “We’re not here for this, and neither are
you.”
	Aya relaxed slightly, but not entirely. Youji moved his hand back to his side
and nudged Aya to move forward.
	Aya was checked to have the bullet removed. Ken needed stitches for his head
wound and may have a concussion, but the doctor’s could not be certain until
they have a chance to check him. They carefully placed the unconscious Omi on a
stretcher and took him for x-rays.
	This left Youji, Schuldig, and Crawford in the waiting room.
	“Coffee?”
	Youji looked up to see the smiling Schuldig offer him a cup warm coffee from a
vending machine.
	“No worries,” Crawford said, gesturing Youji to take it. “We aren’t
going to cause a problem here.”
	Youji, still uncertain, nodded and took the coffee.
	Schuldig seated himself after handing a cup to Crawford, a cup in his hands as
well.
	“It seems,” Crawford began, “that we are having the same problem.”
	“Perhaps,” Youji said defensively.
	“Let’s face it,” Schuldig said, leaning forward, “you are all
outclassed.”
	“So were you,” Youji retorted.
	“So we were,” Crawford said, cutting Schuldig off before he could say
something else.
	“We are in the same business,” Crawford said, his eyes never leaving
Youji’s, “but we were on opposing sides before. This time, it appears that
our target is the same.”
	Youji silently sipped the coffee. He really did not feel comfortable being in
such a situation, but he was.
	“Why don’t we just call a truce this time?”
	Youji nearly choked on his coffee. Schuldig smiled slightly.
	“Think about this for a moment, kid,” Schuldig said, leaning back, his
fingers holding the cup by the rim. “We were outclassed by fewer numbers. You
were outclassed two to one. You’re friend with the bullet even had help from
the one taking all of our kills, and was still outclassed. We are not against
normal targets this time.”
	Schuldig paused to take a drink. Crawford took this chance to continue.
	“It seems that both of our groups will be weakened by tonight’s events. We
could all use the help, don’t you think?”
	Youji thought to himself, his eyes not leaving the two assassins.
	“Of course,” Schuldig said, “you want to speak to your team.”
	Crawford handed Youji what appeared to be a business card.
	“Just give us a call when you decide.”
	Youji stood after pocketing the card.
	“I’ll be back in a moment,” he said, stepping back out into the snow.

	“So,” Schuldig said after Youji left, “what do you think?”
	“He’ll take it,” Crawford replied, taking a sip of the coffee.
	Schuldig nodded.
	“And their job?”
	“Not the same,” Schuldig replied, becoming comfortable in his chair.
“They are only after the man, and know nothing of the case and its
contents.”
	“Fair enough.”
	The two sat in silence, waiting for the nurse to give them any news of their
companions.
	Schuldig’s mind wandered to the woman and her impressive talent to mimic
every move they made, including their personal abilities. Crawford’s mind was
finally hitting a realization of irregularities with his foresight. He decided
to become content with the answer he could come up with, and continued to drink
his coffee.

	Youji sipped his coffee in the cold night air. The snow was still not showing
any signs of stopping, but was still at the same level as always. It truly did
not make sense, but the thoughts of the weather were not important right now.
	Weiß and Schwarz working side by side was a thought that would have ranked in
the impossibilities to Youji’s mind. Weiß was created to bring justice, and
Schwarz was, at one point, defending the unjust. Even if the target was the
same, what would keep them from killing Weiß afterwards?
	These thoughts of doubt did not leave a comfortable feeling in his stomach.
	“I need a drink,” he muttered to himself, allowing the cold to numb the
aches in his body and his soul.

	Akabane stood on the rooftop in Shinjuku. The lights of Tokyo created an
artificial daytime feel, and in a way, the light and the snow created a calming
affect on Akabane.
	The day was truly a challenging one.
	The fight with the berserker from Schwarz proved to be challenging, and instead
of finishing the man off, he left to move into position for his actual job. Even
though he only did the job for fun, he still had a client to please, and gave up
one type of fun for the other.
	But, this was more than just fun now.
	These four people were not normal, Akabane knew that much. While he did not
have access to all of the information, he had enough to work with.
	Weiß is powerless, and I was nothing to that man.
	The fight this night left an empty feeling within Akabane.
	He now wanted to fill that emptiness.
	“Tomorrow night should be more fun,” he whispered, walking to the staircase
again, ignoring the slowly rising sun.

Hosted by Animexx e.V. (http://www.animexx.de)