Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Vengeance ❯ The Chase ( Chapter 2 )

A/N: Vengeance was originally supposed to be a one-shot, but I suddenly got an idea for what you have below. I have another chapter in the works and perhaps one or two more. Reviews and constructive criticisms are always welcome.

 

Aya stared up at the broken windows of the abandoned warehouse, clutching his katana. Schwarz was inside.

 

Or at least the red-headed-bastard-German part of Schwarz.

 

Aya was keenly aware that it had all been too easy and that following the telepath inside would probably lead him straight into a trap. He just didn't have it in himself to care at this point.

They were gone. And it was entirely his fault.

 

The disastrous mission had been two days ago. His teammates had not arrived at the safe house, nor had they been in contact. After replaying the lethal events of the mission while trying to ignore the pain in his wounds for several hours, he came to a decision. He was irredeemable, his hands covered with too much blood, his soul blackened and warped beyond recognition. There was only one thing he could do: kill Schwarz, or die trying.

 

Aya had gone back to the Koneko no Sumu Ie after he left the safe house. Driving to the shop, he half hoped that last night had been a horrible nightmare and that he would find the rest of Weiss at the shop when he returned. Yohji would be smoking next to an ashtray full of cigarette butts, studiously ignoring Omi as the petite blonde berated him for smoking inside the house. Ken would be glued to the big screen TV in their living room, focused solely on the soccer match he had been waiting for all year. The FIFA World Cup finals if Aya remembered Ken's fervent rant correctly.

 

As he walked up to the shop's back door, he tried to strike such hopeful thoughts from his head, but it was impossible. He didn't want to believe he would never see them again, but as he entered the shop, all of his hopes were dashed. There was no sound coming from anywhere in the building and everything sat where they had left it last night, untouched. After taking care of the worst of his wounds and quickly cleaning the minor ones, he eyed the bottle of Vicodin but shook his head. Cleaning his wounds to avoid infection was one thing, but the Vicodin would cloud his judgment and only make him more tired than he was now, and he would need to be in better shape than this to hunt his prey.

 

He staggered downstairs to see if there was any correspondence from Persia. Aya hated himself for hoping for an encrypted messaged saying that the other three members had been picked up and taken to Kritiker's hospital for treatment. And the self-hatred only intensified at the disappointment and anger he felt when all he found was a message demanding a mission and injury report. With one of Yohji's favored curses, he pounded out a curt reply, giving just the bare details.

 

As much as he wanted to believe he was largely unaffected by emotions, it was only after he went back upstairs and forced a Vicodin down his throat that he was able to conclude the report:

 

“Mission failed.
Target still alive.
Balinese, Siberian, and Bombay killed in action.”

 

After sending the report, he knew he had to move fast if he wanted to get out of the Koneko before Kritiker came to find him. If they did, they would never let him go after Schwarz. He knew this, but he didn't move.

 

Sitting in front of the computer, Aya wanted to scream. He had failed them all. He tried to stop the onslaught of damning thoughts, but with the narcotics dulling his senses, his efforts were in vain. If only he had dragged Yohji out of the collapsing building with him! If only he had checked up on Ken after the brunette had fallen behind due to his injury! If only they had scrapped the mission after Omi's breakdown yesterday! They would still be alive. It had been Aya's call to continue the mission and it had been Aya that had finalized the plans. He had ruined it all.

 

A beep from his cell phone brought him back to reality. It was a text from Manx letting him know she'd be there in less than twenty minutes to confirm the report and to transport him to the hospital to treat his injuries. Cursing the Vicodin to hell and back for making him so emotional, Aya leapt to his feet and as quickly as he could, he collected things he would need. Extra medical supplies and a general antibiotic went into a small book bag along with their emergency store of cash. He also strapped on Yohji's spare garrote-equipped watch and stashed several of Omi's lethal bolts in the inner pocket of his coat.

 

He only paused in his frenzied movements long enough to leave four white roses arranged in the shape of a cross, with his sister's earring resting over one of the roses, on the table. The message would be clear to Manx: Fujimiya Ran had left to join his fallen comrades.

 

Donning his coat, book bag and katana in hand, he grabbed the keys to Ken's bike, far more maneuverable than his Porsche in the tight alleyways of Tokyo, and locked the shop up for the last time. He didn't look back as he mounted the bike and drove off. He removed the emergency GPS tracking device from the underside of the frame and tossed it into the bed of a pickup truck at a stoplight. It wasn't Kritiker that he wanted to be found by.

 

 

 

He drove around Tokyo for hours, not really having a decisive plan to find Schwarz. He knew he didn't need one, however, because Schwarz would no doubt find him. He was supposed to have died last night, according to Crawford, yet he was still breathing. Aya had the distinct impression that Crawford was the kind of man that did not like to be proven wrong, and Schwarz would be out to rectify the obvious oversight.

 

There was, of course, the matter of making himself available to Schwarz without making him-self an open target. He wanted a good shot at the bastards before he breathed his last. The solution was simple. He knew Schwarz would not attack him in areas with large numbers of people. There was the potential for too many casualties should the fight get out of hand, which would very likely lead to in-depth inquiries. That kind of scenario would just be too much of a hassle in exchange for one Abyssinian. So he kept to the crowded areas of the city, keeping an eye out for one of the four he was looking for.

 

During the entire day, a voice in his head kept whispering. `You did it. You killed them. It's because of you they died. You ruin everything you touch.' As the day wore on, it became more and more difficult to deny the truth of those statements. Aya justified them by saying he would kill Schwarz and then do the world a favor and kill himself. Or simply let Schwarz wipe him from existence.

 

 

 

As the sun set, Aya was forced to finally get off the bike in one of the shadier areas of town. His injuries hadn't had a chance to heal and he was starting to feel dizzy. It probably didn't help that he hadn't eaten anything or slept since the day before. He bought a somewhat dubious looking sandwich and several bottles of water from a rundown convenience store and hid Ken's bike behind a dumpster in an alley a few streets down.

 

With a groan, he climbed onto the fire escape of a long vacated office building. Holding his katana against his still aching shoulder, he slept lightly.

 

He awoke near dawn to the sound of clattering metal. After ascertaining it was only a stray cat knocking over a garbage can, he dropped to the ground and retrieved the bike to continue the hunt.

 

It finally happened as he was refueling sometime before noon. He looked up from the pump in time to catch a glimpse of red hair and that trademark smirk from inside a red sports car. An instant later, the German drove off. At the same time he felt an incessant mental tug in the same direction and Aya understood. Schuldig wanted a game of cat and mouse.

 

Aya smiled a cold, mirthless smile. Fine. He was game; as long as it ended in the telepath's body skewered on his sword.

 

He took off after Schuldig, threading through alleyways and sometimes running red lights to keep up. All thought and fear for his life was replaced by the driving need to wrap his hands around Schuldig's throat and squeeze the life out of him.

 

The chase went on for hours, long past nightfall. Aya was following Schuldig's metal prods along a section of the dock that probably hadn't seen use in over a decade, when suddenly he saw the telepath calmly walking into a warehouse on his left. He slid to a stop in front of the building and took in his surroundings. Sure enough, dark foreboding warehouses as far as the eye could see in front of him, and the ocean at his back.

 

Aya looked again at the warehouse that Schuldig had entered and saw that the door was open almost invitingly. Aya slowly dismounted, watching for any signs of movement from within. “Are you trying to lead me into a trap, Schwarz?”

 

Not expecting an answer, he unsheathed his sword. Schuldig knew Aya was out there and the reason for his presence outside the door. Aya knew that Schuldig wouldn't play fair, even if the bastard knew the meaning of the term. So Aya simply strode straight into the building. No sense in delaying the inevitable.