(no subject)
Title Obsession: The Devil and His Right-Hand Man
Rating R
Characters Schuldig, Farfarello, Crawford
Summary Schuldig and Farfarello are tasked with a mission.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5
It was dark in the parking lot, the faint yellow glow of a streetlamp the only source of light. There were supposed to be three others, but they'd burnt out.
“It's as though even the moon has turned her back upon us.”
Schuldig glanced to his side, eyes taking in the still form of Farfarello, seated next to him in the car. “Is that a good thing, or bad?” He watched as the Irishman's face contracted slightly, the way it did when he was giving a matter serious thought.
“It's a good thing,” he paused as he turned to face Schuldig, “for we as agents of the dark night require shadows in which to move.”
“Is the moon on our side, then?” Schuldig asked, not bothering to find the answer himself, since sometimes Farfarello's spoken thoughts were different from the ones presently in his head.
“No. The moon fears us. Our presence has scared it into retreat.”
Schuldig did not answer the comment straightaway. Instead he looked out of his window, eyes on a van parked at the other end of the lot. Not noticing any movement, he looked back at his partner. “That's the answer I was hoping for.”
“Are we moving out now?” Farfarello's eye was also on the van, as his fingers were on the tip of a knife, pressing against it lightly.
Schuldig listened, judging where the conversation was presently at. “No, not yet. Give it another few minutes.”
“As you say,” Farfarello turned his head, staring out of his own window. Schuldig watched him for a moment, though he kept his ears attuned to their prey in the van. Earlier he'd been rummaging around in Farfarello's head, checking to see if the Irishman held any reservation towards working alone with him after the incident of a few days prior. Nagi was still annoyed with him, but Schuldig had expected that. Farfarello's mind worked differently, though. There were so many exceptions to the rules inside that silver-capped head that Schuldig could never be fully sure of what he found within.
So far, though, his partner didn't seem to have any problem with having the German back at his side on their hunting missions. Schuldig hoped the Irishman wasn't going to change his mind any time soon.
Just then he picked up on the line he'd been waiting an hour for and a grin adorned his lips. “Time to go,” he instructed before opening the door of his car and climbing out. Farfarello followed, joining him as they stalked towards the van, knives and gun withdrawn. Schuldig did not foresee the need for the gun, not with these people. He still liked waving it around, though, for added effect.
“Tonight we are sent as messengers of the Devil,” Farfarello spoke lowly, his words loud enough for only Schuldig's ears.
“And to whom are we delivering a message?” They stopped at the side of the van, and Schuldig rapped on the side of it with his gun three times.
“We deliver it to the world.”
Schuldig grinned as he listened to the worried mutterings of the three men in the back of the van. “And the moon and stars?”
“They already fear us, but they will not warn their Father, and He shall weep when He learns of the bloodshed.”
Schuldig rapped on the van again. “Then go forth, demon, and do what you do best.”
Just then the back door of the van swung open, and a voice was heard. “Is someone there? Come around where I can see you!” The voice was tinged with malice, but Schuldig heard the nervous edge and smiled.
“As you wish,” Farfarello spoke and stepped in front of the open door, the inside light falling on him as though he'd taken to the stage, knives gleaming in both hands. “Are you believers of God the Deceiver?”
Schuldig had to grin as he listened to the thoughts inside, all of which were confused, but none as worried as they ought to be. Any who did not greet the sight of the one-eyed man with concern were fools. Farfarello would show them the error of their ways.
“He has spoken through you. Do you know what he has said?” Farfarello remained still in the light of the van, a slight incline of the head his only movement. “He has said 'Take from me these children, these black sheep of my flock, so that I might not know the pain of their suffering!' He has turned his back upon you. I have been sent to correct your wrongs.”
Schuldig waited in silence, counting the seconds - one, two, three. A smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. As Farfarello tasted the blood of his enemies upon his lips, so Schuldig tasted it upon Farfarello's mind. He closed his eyes and remained standing at the side of the van, losing himself in the ecstasy of the Irishman's blood lust, and in the fear of the three victims, horror sweeping through them as swiftly as the sharp edge of Farfarello's favoured knives. The deaths were finalized in mere moments, too swift for either assassin's liking, but nearly too long for measures of safety. When things quieted inside the van, Schuldig pushed himself away from it and walked towards the trees that lined the edge of the parking lot.
He felt as fleet as the fox, coming upon injured prey that dared not move. He tasted anxiety on the air, and licked his lips as he drew upon the crouched and shivering figure. “Good evening,” he spoke into the darkness, directing his gaze at the shape he could only just make out. “Have you been enjoying the show?”
There was no sound from the figure, who huddled more tightly in on itself, fear pouring from every inch of skin, from every shard of the mind still intact.
“Come out, little lamb, he won't harm you.” Schuldig looked back at the van, at Farfarello's straight-backed figure standing again on the ground, silhouetted in the light. He reached out with his gift, his mental fingers soft and smooth, caressing the frightened mind into following orders. He was rewarded with the figure of a young woman, dressed in the athletic attire required for a late night jog. He smiled at her, a wolfish smile full of sharp teeth and ill intentions. She took one step backwards.
“Don't run. It'll only make killing you that much more unpleasant.” Schuldig moved swiftly towards her, catching an arm and pulling her towards him. “The world is not a safe place for a beautiful young woman to be alone in. Unfortunate that you have to find that out the hard way.”
“Please don't hurt me,” she begged, tears catching in her throat.
“Hurt you?” He laughed, pressing his face into her neck, “Oh I'm not going to hurt you.”
The doors of the van slammed shut in the distance, and the engine roared to life. He did not have to ask what Farfarello was doing, though he was surprised that the Irishman had thought of it.
He returned his attention to the girl, who was struggling feebly in his grip. “You've seen something that you had no right to witness. There can not be any other outcome for you.” He threw her to the ground and holstered his gun before swooping down on top of her. “Try not to struggle, and I'll be quick.”
She let out a scream and he felt himself sinking into her thoughts and fears, laughing at the images she brought up in her head of what he was going to do to her. She was right about one thing, but wrong about the other.
“I've told you not to struggle, you're only making this harder on me.” He grinned and reached down for her top, tearing it open with his strong fingers. Her fear was enough to make him hard, but he wasn't going to find any release here in the parking lot. “You have the wrong impression of me,” he spoke low, reaching now for her shorts. “I said I wasn't going to hurt you,” one pull and he'd ripped those too.
“I'm only going to kill you.”
He quickly pulled out his gun and shot a bullet into her forehead, satisfied with the look of terror on her face. He stood up and gazed down at her, taking in the whole scene. He leaned back down and pulled again on the remains of her top, exposing one breast. He looked her over again and was satisfied with his work. There would be no doubt in the mind of the police that this poor girl had been sexually assaulted while jogging through a park, and had then been shot in order to keep her silenced. They would not find traces of semen on her, but that wouldn't matter. He'd make sure of it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He picked Farfarello up on the other side of the city, where he'd deposited the van in the heart of the Toa-kai yakuza district. This would be cover enough, and would also incite a minor war of retribution among the rival gangs that would give them cover for a few weeks worth of missions. He was quite impressed with Farfarello's plan. The drive back to the apartment was quiet, the way it usually was. The Irishman was always subdued after committing murders, always using the silence as time to engage in a verbal war against God inside his mind.
After seeing Farfarello safely to his room, where he locked the man into his straight jacket for the night (he was always too unbalanced after murder to be allowed to roam freely), Schuldig made his way down the hallway, passing through the living room and kitchen (where Nagi sat, eating dinner and clicking away on his laptop) and through the door to Crawford's office.
“Before you ask, yes, her death was necessary.” He pushed the door closed behind him before making his way to sit in one of the arm chairs. Crawford did not answer right away, and Schuldig did not press him for acknowledgment.
“As long as you follow up with it and ensure the investigation runs the way we want it to, I see no need to dispute your reasoning regarding necessity.”
Schuldig grinned and sat up straight, his eyes on the American. “I had a wonderful time, Farfarello was quite well behaved. We dropped the van off in Toa-kai district.”
“Intelligent.”
“Surprisingly so.” Schuldig stood up and walked over to where Crawford sat, leaning over his shoulder to read a page of the document laid out before him. “Will you be busy all night with this?”
“Yes.” Though he did not say more, Schuldig could feel the repellant nature of Crawford's mind pushing at him to leave. Unluckily for the American, Schuldig was always up for a challenge.
“One day you're going to work yourself too hard, and I won't be there to relieve the stress,” he whispered into the other man's ear, his breath blowing softly across Crawford's cheek.
“That will be the day when I'm burying you in the ground.”
Schuldig grinned at the retort, amused. “Have you seen that in a vision?”
Crawford turned to the next page of his document, smoothing the paper at the middle crease so it lay flat. “Not yet, but I'm sure it's bound to surface one of these days.”
Without warning Schuldig grabbed Crawford's face with his left hand, gripping the pointed chin and forcing it to meet him. He pressed his lips to the American's, kissing him forcefully before pulling back.
“I have work to do.” Crawford quickly returned his gaze to the paper, not appearing bothered by the intrusion, but not giving Schuldig anything in return.
“You can't even spare me ten minutes?” He knew the answer already, but was enjoying the freedom to play with Crawford. It wasn't always allowed.
“Out.”
Huffing dramatically, Schuldig pushed himself away from the desk and headed for the door. Perhaps he ought to go and bother Nagi after all.
Rating R
Characters Schuldig, Farfarello, Crawford
Summary Schuldig and Farfarello are tasked with a mission.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5
It was dark in the parking lot, the faint yellow glow of a streetlamp the only source of light. There were supposed to be three others, but they'd burnt out.
“It's as though even the moon has turned her back upon us.”
Schuldig glanced to his side, eyes taking in the still form of Farfarello, seated next to him in the car. “Is that a good thing, or bad?” He watched as the Irishman's face contracted slightly, the way it did when he was giving a matter serious thought.
“It's a good thing,” he paused as he turned to face Schuldig, “for we as agents of the dark night require shadows in which to move.”
“Is the moon on our side, then?” Schuldig asked, not bothering to find the answer himself, since sometimes Farfarello's spoken thoughts were different from the ones presently in his head.
“No. The moon fears us. Our presence has scared it into retreat.”
Schuldig did not answer the comment straightaway. Instead he looked out of his window, eyes on a van parked at the other end of the lot. Not noticing any movement, he looked back at his partner. “That's the answer I was hoping for.”
“Are we moving out now?” Farfarello's eye was also on the van, as his fingers were on the tip of a knife, pressing against it lightly.
Schuldig listened, judging where the conversation was presently at. “No, not yet. Give it another few minutes.”
“As you say,” Farfarello turned his head, staring out of his own window. Schuldig watched him for a moment, though he kept his ears attuned to their prey in the van. Earlier he'd been rummaging around in Farfarello's head, checking to see if the Irishman held any reservation towards working alone with him after the incident of a few days prior. Nagi was still annoyed with him, but Schuldig had expected that. Farfarello's mind worked differently, though. There were so many exceptions to the rules inside that silver-capped head that Schuldig could never be fully sure of what he found within.
So far, though, his partner didn't seem to have any problem with having the German back at his side on their hunting missions. Schuldig hoped the Irishman wasn't going to change his mind any time soon.
Just then he picked up on the line he'd been waiting an hour for and a grin adorned his lips. “Time to go,” he instructed before opening the door of his car and climbing out. Farfarello followed, joining him as they stalked towards the van, knives and gun withdrawn. Schuldig did not foresee the need for the gun, not with these people. He still liked waving it around, though, for added effect.
“Tonight we are sent as messengers of the Devil,” Farfarello spoke lowly, his words loud enough for only Schuldig's ears.
“And to whom are we delivering a message?” They stopped at the side of the van, and Schuldig rapped on the side of it with his gun three times.
“We deliver it to the world.”
Schuldig grinned as he listened to the worried mutterings of the three men in the back of the van. “And the moon and stars?”
“They already fear us, but they will not warn their Father, and He shall weep when He learns of the bloodshed.”
Schuldig rapped on the van again. “Then go forth, demon, and do what you do best.”
Just then the back door of the van swung open, and a voice was heard. “Is someone there? Come around where I can see you!” The voice was tinged with malice, but Schuldig heard the nervous edge and smiled.
“As you wish,” Farfarello spoke and stepped in front of the open door, the inside light falling on him as though he'd taken to the stage, knives gleaming in both hands. “Are you believers of God the Deceiver?”
Schuldig had to grin as he listened to the thoughts inside, all of which were confused, but none as worried as they ought to be. Any who did not greet the sight of the one-eyed man with concern were fools. Farfarello would show them the error of their ways.
“He has spoken through you. Do you know what he has said?” Farfarello remained still in the light of the van, a slight incline of the head his only movement. “He has said 'Take from me these children, these black sheep of my flock, so that I might not know the pain of their suffering!' He has turned his back upon you. I have been sent to correct your wrongs.”
Schuldig waited in silence, counting the seconds - one, two, three. A smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. As Farfarello tasted the blood of his enemies upon his lips, so Schuldig tasted it upon Farfarello's mind. He closed his eyes and remained standing at the side of the van, losing himself in the ecstasy of the Irishman's blood lust, and in the fear of the three victims, horror sweeping through them as swiftly as the sharp edge of Farfarello's favoured knives. The deaths were finalized in mere moments, too swift for either assassin's liking, but nearly too long for measures of safety. When things quieted inside the van, Schuldig pushed himself away from it and walked towards the trees that lined the edge of the parking lot.
He felt as fleet as the fox, coming upon injured prey that dared not move. He tasted anxiety on the air, and licked his lips as he drew upon the crouched and shivering figure. “Good evening,” he spoke into the darkness, directing his gaze at the shape he could only just make out. “Have you been enjoying the show?”
There was no sound from the figure, who huddled more tightly in on itself, fear pouring from every inch of skin, from every shard of the mind still intact.
“Come out, little lamb, he won't harm you.” Schuldig looked back at the van, at Farfarello's straight-backed figure standing again on the ground, silhouetted in the light. He reached out with his gift, his mental fingers soft and smooth, caressing the frightened mind into following orders. He was rewarded with the figure of a young woman, dressed in the athletic attire required for a late night jog. He smiled at her, a wolfish smile full of sharp teeth and ill intentions. She took one step backwards.
“Don't run. It'll only make killing you that much more unpleasant.” Schuldig moved swiftly towards her, catching an arm and pulling her towards him. “The world is not a safe place for a beautiful young woman to be alone in. Unfortunate that you have to find that out the hard way.”
“Please don't hurt me,” she begged, tears catching in her throat.
“Hurt you?” He laughed, pressing his face into her neck, “Oh I'm not going to hurt you.”
The doors of the van slammed shut in the distance, and the engine roared to life. He did not have to ask what Farfarello was doing, though he was surprised that the Irishman had thought of it.
He returned his attention to the girl, who was struggling feebly in his grip. “You've seen something that you had no right to witness. There can not be any other outcome for you.” He threw her to the ground and holstered his gun before swooping down on top of her. “Try not to struggle, and I'll be quick.”
She let out a scream and he felt himself sinking into her thoughts and fears, laughing at the images she brought up in her head of what he was going to do to her. She was right about one thing, but wrong about the other.
“I've told you not to struggle, you're only making this harder on me.” He grinned and reached down for her top, tearing it open with his strong fingers. Her fear was enough to make him hard, but he wasn't going to find any release here in the parking lot. “You have the wrong impression of me,” he spoke low, reaching now for her shorts. “I said I wasn't going to hurt you,” one pull and he'd ripped those too.
“I'm only going to kill you.”
He quickly pulled out his gun and shot a bullet into her forehead, satisfied with the look of terror on her face. He stood up and gazed down at her, taking in the whole scene. He leaned back down and pulled again on the remains of her top, exposing one breast. He looked her over again and was satisfied with his work. There would be no doubt in the mind of the police that this poor girl had been sexually assaulted while jogging through a park, and had then been shot in order to keep her silenced. They would not find traces of semen on her, but that wouldn't matter. He'd make sure of it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He picked Farfarello up on the other side of the city, where he'd deposited the van in the heart of the Toa-kai yakuza district. This would be cover enough, and would also incite a minor war of retribution among the rival gangs that would give them cover for a few weeks worth of missions. He was quite impressed with Farfarello's plan. The drive back to the apartment was quiet, the way it usually was. The Irishman was always subdued after committing murders, always using the silence as time to engage in a verbal war against God inside his mind.
After seeing Farfarello safely to his room, where he locked the man into his straight jacket for the night (he was always too unbalanced after murder to be allowed to roam freely), Schuldig made his way down the hallway, passing through the living room and kitchen (where Nagi sat, eating dinner and clicking away on his laptop) and through the door to Crawford's office.
“Before you ask, yes, her death was necessary.” He pushed the door closed behind him before making his way to sit in one of the arm chairs. Crawford did not answer right away, and Schuldig did not press him for acknowledgment.
“As long as you follow up with it and ensure the investigation runs the way we want it to, I see no need to dispute your reasoning regarding necessity.”
Schuldig grinned and sat up straight, his eyes on the American. “I had a wonderful time, Farfarello was quite well behaved. We dropped the van off in Toa-kai district.”
“Intelligent.”
“Surprisingly so.” Schuldig stood up and walked over to where Crawford sat, leaning over his shoulder to read a page of the document laid out before him. “Will you be busy all night with this?”
“Yes.” Though he did not say more, Schuldig could feel the repellant nature of Crawford's mind pushing at him to leave. Unluckily for the American, Schuldig was always up for a challenge.
“One day you're going to work yourself too hard, and I won't be there to relieve the stress,” he whispered into the other man's ear, his breath blowing softly across Crawford's cheek.
“That will be the day when I'm burying you in the ground.”
Schuldig grinned at the retort, amused. “Have you seen that in a vision?”
Crawford turned to the next page of his document, smoothing the paper at the middle crease so it lay flat. “Not yet, but I'm sure it's bound to surface one of these days.”
Without warning Schuldig grabbed Crawford's face with his left hand, gripping the pointed chin and forcing it to meet him. He pressed his lips to the American's, kissing him forcefully before pulling back.
“I have work to do.” Crawford quickly returned his gaze to the paper, not appearing bothered by the intrusion, but not giving Schuldig anything in return.
“You can't even spare me ten minutes?” He knew the answer already, but was enjoying the freedom to play with Crawford. It wasn't always allowed.
“Out.”
Huffing dramatically, Schuldig pushed himself away from the desk and headed for the door. Perhaps he ought to go and bother Nagi after all.