Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ SECOND STRINGERS ❯ It Begins ( Prologue )

Prologue: It Begins


He looked down at his arms. The lightly tanned skin was flawed in more than one place by the bright white of scars that had not yet faded. Needle marks, suicide attempts, and just random cuts that held no real purpose, but were there anyway. Most were faded down to a level that you couldn't see them unless you looked very closely and knew where they were. Others had disappeared altogether. Not from his eyes though. Every scar still shone as brightly as the day it was made to him, a reminder of what he had been and still was deep down inside. One scar was nowhere near faded; it stood bright against his tanned body. It was the longest by far and had come the closest to taking his life.

He remembered giving up, realizing he could never do any better than his past. Then, just as the darkness began to crash over him and take him up altogether, there he was. Holding him as he bled, yelling for someone to help. Schuldich remembered, even through the haze of death, thinking that this was what he had wanted from the very moment the two of them had met. To be held in his warm embrace and hear words of comfort come from the older man and it was only when he was dying that he finally got it. At that moment, it had felt like the world was giving him one last kick in the face on his way out.

When he came to in the small, very private hospital, owned and operated exclusively by Esstet, he thought that things would be different between him and his beloved. He’s a fucking telepath, he should have known better. Things were the same as they had always been. Schuldich made repeated passes and Bradley Crawford blocked each and every one. Brad had no interest in Schu and made that almost painfully clear. Though, he did realize just how much Schu wanted him and that helped a little. Brad wasn't so quick to block Schu out of his mind and he didn't send very nasty and painful thoughts to Schu when he realized the tall redhead was intently staring after him as he walked away. And best of all, Schu now could call him Brad without being yelled at profusely. In front of the others, he still would receive a frown and sharpness from the eyes behind the glasses, that was just Brad’s way, but he still got away with it. The others would be hacked to bits if they called him anything but Crawford. It had only taken Schuldich a nearly fatal suicide attempt for him to earn the right to call the leader of Schwarz â€Brad.†Was it worth it to Schuldich? Hell yeah.

Schuldich was still contemplating this as he stood waiting for the man himself to make his grand appearance and explain what this meeting was all about. Esstet was still trying to rebuild, but they all had thought that Schwarz was off of the remodeling plans. Maybe not after all.

"Do you have any idea what this is all about?" came a calm, almost too calm, voice from the young teenager sitting at the table in front of him. Nagi. A very bright and talented kid and old way beyond his years.

"I don't know, all I could pick outta his head was something about the fact he feels like we’re being treated like an American football team, whatever the hell that means," Schuldich replied out loud for a change from his mental voice. He wanted to try to keep the silence broken so that his thoughts wouldn't keep wandering back to very unpleasant memories.

"I don't care what it’s about," said the pale, scar-covered man standing opposite Schu. His one gold eye twinkled with delight probably from just having killed something or someone. "I gotta be loose on the streets all day yesterday and the day before to do as I pleased. I like whatever this is about."

"Yes we know, Farfarello. The police reports are still coming in," Nagi said, again very calmly. Nothing ever got to this kid. Schu just threw on his trademark grin. It never quite made it to his eyes, but then, it wasn't meant to. Finally, after a few more idle minutes, Brad Crawford walked in through the door and made his way over to the table by Nagi. He tossed down two thin manila folders and looked at his teammates. The cocky red haired German who was always trying to get him into bed leaned near the far door that he had just come through, smirk in place. At the table in front of him sat Nagi and just past him standing in a slightly dark corner, probably licking something pointed and deadly, was the white haired homicidal maniac. Well, he had a fine group to work with and it would only get better. He gently motioned down to the folders and said the words that he hoped would allow them to keep their jobs and lives.

"I'd like you all to meet the Second Stringers."