Ch. 10: "Midnight Visitors"

Notes: Yes, I know the series ended differently. But you know me, I always gotta tweak the story line... =pp so I guess this is kinda AU. I mess a lot with the concept of the story. ^.^; Those with weak stomachs, don't proceed. *Sweatdrop*
Disclaimer: WK does not belong to me. Neither do the lyrics that proceed each chapter- they're taken from various songs from the "Queen of the Damned" soundtrack. Don't sue. =pp

night consumes light
and all I dread
reminds me what to do before I'm dead

"That went rather well," Schuldich said drolly, dropping gracelessly onto the couch. "Considering two kittens decided to play with fire."
Crawford removed his glasses as he made a beeline for the bathroom. "I'm taking a shower," he said shortly, wiping the smoke grime from his lens as he walked. "Put Farfarello in his room."
Nagi glanced towards the Irishman as Crawford disappeared into the bathroom. Farfarello was wandering aimlessly around the room with a scowl on his scarred face, fiddling with his daggers.
Somebody's frustrated, Schuldich said dryly. I interrupted him in the middle of his 'games' with the soccer punk.
Looks like Siberian managed to bite back, Nagi noted dryly, stilling the madman with his power and going over to inspect the cut on his shoulder. A moment later the first aid kit floated over.
"I'm hungry," Farfarello said abruptly, looking intently at Nagi.
The younger boy didn't look up from where he was dressing the wound. "You should have taken one of the children, then," he said unsympathetically. "Quit twitching."
Farfarello scowled and didn't reply.
Across the room, Schuldich shifted, and Nagi glanced towards him out of the corner of his eye. The German was frowning slightly, staring into space as he rooted through his mad partner's mind.
What is it? Nagi demanded, wiping his hands off on a rag and closing the first aid kit.
A girl, Schuldich said evasively. There was a little girl down there.
Nagi looked at him and arched a brow. So? Are you suggesting Farf was thinking perverted thoughts?
Schuldich sneered, but there was no humor to the expression, and he wouldn't look at either of them. Bad memories, chibi. Bad memories, that's all. He rose to his feet after a moment and headed for the kitchen.
Nagi frowned and looked at Farfarello, releasing him from his mind's grip and allowing the man to move. He watched as the madman plucked absently at his bandage. Bad memories?
Of what?
"Come on, Farf. You can take a nap or something in your room, and then Crawford will decide what to do about your dinner."
"You smell of kitten," Farfarello said suddenly as the two of them headed for his padded room.
Nagi's steps faltered for an instant before he recovered his composure. "Of course," he said calmly. "I took care of Bombay while you were busy playing with Siberian."
Farfarello turned his piercing gaze on Nagi, and said nothing. Nagi was suddenly uncomfortably suspicious that the madman had a vague idea of what had really gone on, and frowned inwardly. Sometimes the older man's intuitions were sharper even than Schuldich's, and it made him uneasy. He opened the bedroom door meaningfully. "Get inside, Farfarello."
Farfarello glanced at him from under a hooded eye and walked inside silently. Nagi shut the door firmly behind him and bolted it. He leaned against the door and frowned at the floor.
Damn it. This wasn't good. What if Schuldich ran across the Irishman's suspicions on accident? He scowled. He had been planning to surprise Omi with a visit tonight, but it looked like that was out of the question now.
The doorbell rang then, startling him out of his musings, and he pushed away from the door, heading for the den. Schuldich looked up from where he was sprawled on the couch, munching on a sandwich. He made no move to answer the door, and Nagi flicked him a dirty look as he walked over to the front door and opened it.
The big man in the doorway towered over him, looking down on him dispassionately.
"Ryo," Nagi greeted calmly, opening the door further. "Come in. I'll tell Crawford you're here."
Ryo stepped inside. "I brought someone with me," he said tonelessly.
Nagi's eyebrows rose at the figure that stepped inside behind the hulking man.
"Well well," Schuldich said from behind him, tone amused. "I was wondering when you were going to show your face around here."

Farfarello leaned his ear to the door, listening intently to the muffled conversation coming from down the hall. A grim smile touched his lips.
So, things were coming to this. He wondered what Crawford would decide to do.
His smile turned to a scowl, and he pushed himself away from the door, looking distractedly around the empty, padded room. This business was going to keep Crawford occupied for some time. They would probably forget to feed him.
Farfarello cocked his head at the silent, feminine voice, arching a brow.
It's time for you to do what I told you to do the other day.
Farfarello's lips curved slightly. You are here?
Yes. Go now. Don't let the others know you're leaving. The voice in his mind faded.
He walked over to the barred window and studied it for a moment before seizing a bar and tugging experimentally. It creaked. He pulled harder. The bar bent.
It had been a long time since he had bothered to do this- wrench the bars apart and escape against Crawford's orders. He had done it once in their old flat- when they had worked for Taketori, when Estet had still been alive. But they hadn't had the time to fix the window in this new house.
Baring his teeth in contempt of the steel bars that stood between him and freedom, he wrenched them wide open, leaving a space just barely big enough to wriggle out of.
He listened for a moment, to make sure no one had heard, then reached into a barely visible slit in the padding on the wall, drawing out a dagger. They always took his knives away from him before putting him in this room; they said he cut himself too much, and would accidentally bleed himself to death. But they didn't know he kept one in here.
Clenching the dagger in his teeth, he hoisted himself onto the sill and squirmed through the tight opening.
Then he was dropping down into the street below and loping off into the night, silent as a shadow.


"I can't get ahold of either Birman or Manx," Omi sighed, hanging up the phone. He turned to face his companions, seated around the kitchenette table. "I left a message with the secretary- she'll tell them the mission was a success. I also told her to pass along the fact that Yohji discovered his Gift."
"Is that what that 'Balinese's feet no longer hurt' comment was about?" Yohji asked wearily, picking idly at the bandages on his scraped hands.
"Aa." Omi slid into a seat with a tired sigh. "I'm not sure just who in Kritiker knows about our Gifts, so I figured better safe than sorry. Birman will know what I mean."
Ken yawned, holding out a hand to Yohji. "You didn't have to bandage those. Lemmie see 'em."
"You were in the shower when I cleaned his wounds," Omi said, leaning his chin on his hands. "And I'd forgotten that you could Heal him."
Ken unwrapped the bandages from Yohji's hands and placed his palms over the older man's.
Yohji winced slightly, then sat and stared at their hands. When Ken pulled away, he admired his flawless palms, suitably impressed. "Useful gift you got there," he complimented.
"Anyone else?" Ken asked, looking around at them and running a hand through his damp hair.
Omi shook his head with a small smile. "Iya. Nagi just gave me a shot to put me to sleep. He didn't bother to fight."
"Coward," Yohji muttered. "The little brat." Omi's smile faltered.
"Aya?" Ken looked to the silent man.
Aya shook his head mutely.
"Lots of miracles tonight," Yohji sighed, stretching. "None of us got hurt too badly, and all the kids got out all right." A smile hovered on his lips. "A pain in the ass mission, but seeing the look on the parents' faces when we returned their kids made it worth it, I guess."
Omi smiled and nodded.
Ken grinned, wiping a drop of water from his cheek. "Aa. So, Yohji, what exactly is your Gift? You said you jumped twenty feet?"
"Yeah." Yohji slouched in his chair, leaning his cheek on his crossed arms on the table. "It was bizarre. It was like... I dunno, almost like I was flying. Like twenty feet was nothing. I felt... weightless."
Aya frowned slightly. "That's your Gift? Jumping?"
Yohji shrugged slightly. "I guess so. Jumping big distances, maybe?"
"That would explain why it seemed to be centered in your feet, I guess," Omi relented.
"I dunno, I think there's more to it," Yohji admitted, reaching up a finger to scratch his nose. "I don't know why; I just have this weird feeling." He shrugged again, uncomfortably. "I dunno." He straightened and rose to his feet. "I'm gonna head home and catch some sleep. I'm pooped."
"Oyasumi," Omi called as the older man exited, waving over his shoulder.
"So now what?" Ken asked, tapping a fingernail nervously on the tabletop. "What happens now?"
Aya looked at him out of the corner of his eye. "What do you mean?"
"I mean... I don't know what I mean," Ken fumbled. "I just.. I guess I feel like something big's supposed to happen, now that we all know our Gifts. And anyway, what about this mission with the vampires? Weren't we supposed to start on that when we all figured out what we could do?"
"Iya," Omi said firmly, shaking his head. "She said we had to learn to control them." He glanced towards Aya meaningfully. "We're not there yet."
Aya scowled and glanced away. He said nothing.
"And what, the vampires are just going to sit back and drink Bacardi while we figure out how to do that?" Ken snapped. Omi looked at him in surprise.
"Ano.. I didn't mean.." he started uneasily.
"Whatever," Ken said, standing abruptly. His nerves were frayed from the mission, and his temper was sparking. He knew he shouldn't take it out on the younger assassin, but he couldn't help himself. "I'm going to bed."
Ken ignored the young boy's call, stalking upstairs to his room.

He didn't bother to turn on the lights as he entered his bedroom, nudging the door shut behind him with his hip. He sighed, peeling off his shirt and leaving on only his boxers as he padded over to where he'd left his towel draped over his desk chair. He rubbed his damp hair with it vigorously in an attempt to dry it some more, thoughts on the mission they had completed just two hours ago.
For some reason his mind kept wandering back to Farfarello, and how the madman had hesitated to kill the little girl. Why? Why why why? The question circled in his head until he thought he was going to go mad himself. He tossed the towel away in disgust. It didn't matter. For all he knew, Farfarello didn't kill children.
Or maybe... He frowned. Maybe she reminded him of someone.
From long ago, maybe?
He bent slightly and shook his head, letting water droplets spray from his hair. He ran his fingers through the dark locks and sighed, gazing up at the ceiling as he straightened, the moonlight playing on his bare torso like a lover's teasing fingers.
"Did your precious children live, angel?"
Ken whirled at the sudden voice, his heart leaping into his throat. "SHIT! Who-" A figure shifted in the shadows by the wall, stepping forward, the moonlight shining on his single golden eye.
"Are you ready to finish what we started, angel?" Farfarello's lips lifted to show his teeth in a faint mocking smile.
Ken stumbled backwards, bumping into his chair and bruising his hip. He barely noticed, his terrifed wide eyes pinned on the madman. "Y-you! What are you doing here?!"
The Berserker tilted his chin slightly, still smiling eerily. He tapped the edge of a sharp dagger against his teeth. "I come with a message, angel."
"What message?" Ken groped behind himself wildly, searching for a weapon, any weapon. He had left his bugnuks on the bed, over by his uninvited guest. "Who sent you??"
"The cat," Farfarello said mysteriously, staring at him intently, pinning him to the spot with his gaze. "Your precious bitch."
"Wha-" Ken's fingers wrapped around a broom handle. "What are you talking about?" he demanded.
Farfarello spoke a single word, his eye showing his vicious delight at the other man's reaction. "'Manx'."

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