Through a Prism

 

 

 

 

“What is this about?” Farfarello asked. “What could Crawford want down here?”

‘Here’ was the worst section of Tokyo Farfarello had yet seen, and that was saying something. The German in front of him shrugged.

“I just thought you’d like some exercise.”

“You do enjoy pissing him off, don’t you?”

Schuldig smirked over his shoulder as he pulled a pixie stick. “Brings excitement to our lives, ne?”

“Aa.” Farfarello skipped a step to walk beside the telepath. He was being used, but he didn’t mind. Schuldig often used him for things he enjoyed. And he wouldn’t be punished, it would all be Mastermind’s fault. Being the resident madman had its advantages.

“Here we go,” the German said, his smirk widening. “Look harmless, Farfie.” He turned down an alley, strolling with his hands in his pockets and smirking at the sky. Farfarello followed, shuffling with his eyes on his feet. They were there, of course. Schuldig was never wrong, and he could hear them anyway. Thinking they were silent. That they were the predators.

Two cut off their retreat, before a large one stepped in front of Schuldig. Five in all, dirty little rats with improvised weapons.

“Are you watching?” Farfarello muttered. “You won’t interfere to save these, will you? Is there not one you love?”

“That’s far enough,” big one said. “You’re on our turf, pretty man, and that means you need to pay.”

“Oh, help!” Schuldig gasped, clasping his hands. He smirked wider. “Don’t hurt me!”

“Smartass,” the leader growled, proving slightly smarter than the average. Most got confused first. “Move slow and careful and give me your wallet.”

“Oh, I’d rather not,” Schuldig said, raising his arms. “Wouldn’t you prefer a Farf?”

“A what?”

But Schuldig was gone, leaping to a fire escape. Five pairs of eyes followed him, and that was more distraction than Farfarello needed. He killed quickly, in hopes of leaving time for more appealing targets. He wasn’t in the mood for just random murder today. Schuldig would know that.

Keeping them from bleeding on him made things a little more challenging, but not enough. In moments he was done. Schuldig landed beside him.

“Four seconds off your best time. So what are you in the mood for now? Methodist? Baptist?” He waggled his eyebrows. “Catholic?” His voice changed from flirty to mocking. “You’re getting careless, Farfie. One of them is still thinking.”

Farfarello spun, surveying his work. There, that one was breathing. Damn Schuldig, he didn’t have to be offensive–he picked up the–girl? Ah, she had a sheaf of papers in her shirt, should have felt the difference through the knife…

“Do you know God?” he asked the girl. “Will you meet him, or will you go straight to hell?”

“Please don’t–” the girl gasped. Without thinking Farfarello stopped the killing blow. The telepath shook his head.

“You can’t let her go now, Farf, she saw you murder four people.”

“Five,” the Irishman corrected, spinning to fling a knife. Rare for Schuldig to miss a spectator–the German cursed.

“Will you just do it, before a fucking parade wanders through?”

“You wanted to anger Oracle.”

“I did not want a police investigation. Kill her, Farfarello, you can’t take her home. One dog is enough.”

Still the Irishman hesitated, he didn’t know why. He was just…reluctant.

“Want me to do it?” Schuldig asked. Farfarello picked the girl up again and looked at her. Brown hair, brown eyes, fear and pleading in her face–there was nothing there to catch his attention. And he liked killing. Schuldig said he thought everything was better with blood on it, and the German wasn’t far wrong. He wanted to kill this girl–and he wanted to protect her. It was almost like there were two–

“Does God love you?” he asked the girl, drawing a line of blood down her right arm.

“Please let me go. I won’t tell–”

“God doesn’t want me to kill you.” Farfarello stuck his knife through the girl’s shoulder, carefully avoiding any major blood vessels. The urchin gasped and struggled, Farfarello yanked the blade before her wiggling sliced something important. “Does he love you?”

“I won’t tell–“

“Come on, Farf, God doesn’t give a damn about her. Finish it.”

Farfarello kept trying, but God didn’t come to the rescue, and the girl didn’t come up with any answers. Eventually she stopped even responding, and Farfarello slit her throat.

“What was that about?” Schuldig asked as they walked towards the far end of the alley. Farfarello shrugged.

“God tried to stop me from killing her. I thought maybe I could get more of his attention.”

“Sometimes I forget how crazy you are.”

“Am I? You believe in hell, but deny God exists.”

“Nein, I believe in the bastard. I just don’t see trying to get a conversation going.”

“I have questions. Inquiring minds want to know.”

Schuldig snorted. “Do you want to get some lunch, or are you still in the mood to play?”

Farfarello licked the blood off his blade before reducing it. Schuldig shuddered.

“I hate when you do that.”

“Should I put it away bloody?”

“You could wipe it on something else. Like the last target, maybe.”

“And leave a perfect stamp of my knife. No.” Farfarello checked that the crescent hilt was hidden as they stepped back into the main street. “Lunch,” he announced. “I want lunch, and then I want to think.”

“Gott trembles,” Schuldig muttered.

***

Should have warned Nagi, Farfarello thought hours later. The boy was edging away from the table, while Crawford became even more calm and cold. Schuldig, of course, licked his spoon like he didn’t notice a thing. Ooh, this should be a good one. Nagi bolted; Farf jumped up to his rafter. They might forget–

“Berserker, get out,” Crawford said softly. Damn. Farfarello collected his and Nagi’s ice cream and left. “Farther!” Crawford called, before they had even settled behind the door. Damn.

Eight minutes later Schuldig stalked out of the kitchen. He pasted on a smirk and waved as he went through the door. “Don’t wait up, kids!”

Nagi and Farfarello exchanged stares. Crawford had said they had an appointment in the morning. If Mastermind was leaving, and Oracle wasn’t stopping him–each held out a fist.

“One, two, three–damn.” Farfarello’s scissors fell to Nagi’s rock, so he went to check on Crawford. Carefully, he only cracked the door and peered around it. No blood, but the American was standing awkwardly, hands clenched on the edge of the counter and trying to catch his breath–Farfarello let the door close quietly and tiptoed away. Nagi took the hint and charged past him, their ice cream following as they stampeded up the steps.

***

Farfarello ignored the knocking, until Schuldig gave him a mental poke. Then he let the German in.

“I thought you left.”

Schuldig stared at the partially-assembled Gundam model, then tossed himself on the bed.

“We need to get you out of Japan.”

“Did you do what I think you did to Crawford?” Farfarello went back to his new hobby. He was finding he liked it. Working on the model made things quieter. “You know it will be days before he’ll be able to use it again.”

“Hn,” the German answered, putting his hands behind his head. Farfarello scraped a paring from a join and leaned over the model. Deathscythe, because he liked it, and he liked Duo Maxwell.

“Hey, Farf,” Schuldig said after a while. “When’s the last time you got laid?”

“You ought to remember, you paid her. I still wonder why.”

“Getting rid of the body would have been too much work.” Schuldig shrugged. “Wasn’t like it was my money.”

Farfarello snorted. They all had money, it didn’t take much imagination to figure out how Crawford kept their accounts ever-growing. But Schuldig never bothered with it. If he didn’t just make the person forget payment, he’d hand over 10 yen and get change on 10,000. But he’d really paid that girl, twice what she’d agreed to. Schuldig chuckled and sat up.

“That grin means we’ve got a mission.”

“Not tonight, we’ve got an appointment tomorrow.” Farfarello shook his head. “If you’re not on Crawford’s hit list, that means the rest of us are. I can’t do this in my straitjacket.”

The German flopped backwards with a scowl. “Wichser,” he growled, and Farfarello knew the telepath didn’t mean him. After a few more minutes, he spoke again. “How stupid is it, getting pissed because he won’t hit me?”

“He is treating you like you’ll break if he drops you.”

“Goddamnit! If you see it–“

”You’ll never be able to look Weiss in the eyes,” Farfarello agreed. “Think you taught him a lesson tonight?”

“Nein,” Schuldig growled, thumping the bed. He bounced to sitting. “And what about you? What was that, with the girl today?”

Farfarello tilted his head. “I don’t know. I think…she reminded me of someone?”

“Who?”

“I’m not…sure.” Farfarello picked up the hobby knife. What a stupid little–he had better knives than that. Behind him Schuldig shifted.

“Farf? You okay?”

He lunged out of the chair, crescent-hilt dagger extended. But the German danced back, he stabbed only mattress.

::Restraints!:: rang through his head, for an instant everything went quiet. Then he charged after the orange-haired will o’ the wisp, he knew what made things better, he needed–to the right, back him into the corner, no room for him to bounce and dodge, longer blade–yes!

No!! Farfarello howled as he was lifted off the floor. No! He had him, another second–

“Knife!” Crawford snapped. The crescent hilt twisted out of his hand, Farfarello snarled and tried to catch it. He was easing down now, his arms pulled out for the straitjacket the two men were holding. No, no, they were going to do it again, leave him with the noise–

“Left first.”

“Got it. Buckle–“

”Other one.”

“Give him something,” the orange-haired man gasped. “His head is about to explode.”

“To hell with him,” the other man snarled, snatching the last buckle tight. He shoved, Farfarello fell on the bed. Roll, from his stomach he could get up– “Schu, let me see.” He ripped the other man’s shirt open, Farfarello giggled. Blood, yes, blood in streaks, in lines, running, pooling–

“Goddamnit! Nagi–“

”It’s fucking nothing!”

The brunette shoved him to sit on the bed as a box floated over. “It’s not, damn it, why the hell were you so careless?”

Wiggle, inch, he could–

“You fucking try reading him when he’s like that! Half of Tokyo suddenly started shouting in his head.”

The brunette growled, pressing a pad to the bloodiest spot then wrapping strips of white around the smaller man. “You shouldn’t be alone with him, then.” His hands stopped, he stared. “Why were you alone with him?”

“Oh fuck you.”

Writhe, stretch…the brunette taped the strips before he spoke again.

“Schuldig, stay away from him if you can’t defend yourself.”

“Fuck you twice.”

“I am glad,” the boy said, “that I have such a fine example of a healthy relationship to learn from.”

The orange-haired man laughed. “Nagi, you are a credit to my teaching!”

“In which case, Nagi, I forbid you to be alone with Schuldig.”

“Whatever,” the two said together.

“All right.” The brunette pulled the chair over. “What set him off?”

“Damned if I know.”

“What were you talking about?”

“At least you didn’t fucking ask if we were talking.”

“Schuldig–“

”Maa maa.” The orange-haired man lit a cigarette. “We were talking about today. He didn’t want to kill one of the gang, then he tortured her to death. I couldn’t read why without wading into quicksand, so I just asked.”

“Her?”

“Yeah, a girl.”

“Show me.” He tilted his head, then nodded. “I thought so.”

Farfarello strained, he could just–

“Gott in der Holle!” The bloody man shot off the bed, rubbing his ass. “Will you fucking give him something?”

The brunette had to get the box himself, the boy was too busy laughing and gasping to float it to him.

“Yeah, I’ll remember that next time he’s playing dog on your leg,” the orange-haired man snarled at the boy. The brunette approached Farfarello with a needle.

“I suggest,” he said as he used it, “that you keep him away from pre-teen girls with brown hair and eyes.”

::Sleep without dreams, mein Freund.::

Everything went dark.

*****

Ya gotta love Farf.