Author's Notes: I am not a crossover fan. This crazy plot bunny was not mine; it's Mami's. She requested this specifically. Take it up with her =_=;
Disclaimer: OHSHC & WK don't belong to me, neither do the characters, yadda yadda.
"The Best Laid Plans..."
Privately, Brad Crawford thought that acting the part of bodyguard was beneath him. He'd taken on the role once or twice, superficially; a certain Taketori Reiji came to mind. But there had always been other motives. Subtle plays of politics and lives. Plans of world domination, clear-cut orders from his superiors. He had been required to use his deadliest weapon: his mind. His job, in reality, was to outwit his unsuspecting client, move the pieces as he saw fit, and ultimately bring everything crashing down in one masterful blow. Crawford was by his very nature an arrogant man, and life had constantly shifted to accomodate him, inflating an already smug ego.
He was Going Places. He didn't want the world, but a little piece of it would be nice. In order to be at the top, one required three things: connections, power, and money. His time with Rosenkreuz and Estet had given him these things. And once he'd gotten what he wanted from them, he had betrayed them all with cold efficiency. Loyalty was another of those crucial things that made winning so possible. Loyalty to him, that is. He might have eventually been able to overthrow Estet and make his way in the world by himself, but it certainly made things a lot easier when one had a small group of trusted associates. The boy was the only one who might be a problem; he tended to let his emotions interfere at inopportune times, like his whole ridiculous thing with the Schreint girl. Still, he was almost blindly loyal, and his abilities were a useful asset. The other two were most definitely mentally unstable, but they had their uses as well. And they were loyal in their own way. They may act as if they didn't need him; as if they would have no problem walking away at any given moment.
Crawford knew better. He knew people. And neither of them was going anywhere.
Estet was gone. They had slipped free of Rosenkreuz's death grip. Crawford had won. He was the triumphant victor. He should be pleased.
He was very much not so.
He had made a crucial mistake, despite all his careful planning. Weiß had proven to be a little more determined than he'd anticipated. He'd underestimated them. Bringing down the entire building in which they'd all stood had not exactly been part of the original plan. Neither had been nearly getting killed in the fall. By the time he'd been able to leave the hospital, Rosenkreuz had retaliated in a fatal manner.
They'd frozen his assets.
And suddenly the once proud team of Schwarz was practically in the poor house.
It was a daunting blow to his pride, and the constant badgering of his sociopathic telepath had not helped in the least. They had enough money to cover the hospital bills, pay the rent for the extravagent apartments they had become so accustomed to, and then it suddenly became clear that just putting food on the table was due to be an alarmingly short-lived luxury.
For the first time in their adult lives, the men of Schwarz were faced with the terrifying world of the work-force.
And it quickly became obvious that there was very little any of them could put on a resume.
It would be only a matter of time before mutiny set in. There was already dissension in the ranks. Crawford couldn't have that. He had clearly seen a future of plenty. It was coming to him. He just had to make sure he took the right steps to make that future a reality. Luckily, Schwarz's Oracle still had an ace up his sleeve.
They had cut themselves off from Rosenkreuz, but Crawford had still managed to carry one thing away with him: the all-important contacts. He knew people. People connected to the various mobs and undergrounds of the world. Wealthy politicians. This list would quickly become mostly unavailable, as Rosenkreuz spread the word of their betrayal. He would have to choose quickly and precisely. They needed a job immediately, and one that would offer enough money to be worth their trouble. They still had their reputation; getting a decent sum for their services shouldn't be too difficult, provided he chose a client wealthy enough.
He moved fast. Rosenkreuz moved faster.
A list of almost a hundred names and branches dwindled quickly. They were turned away upon initial contact with some, and others threatened to turn them in. It became necessary to have such meetings in person so that his telepath could make sure they weren't walking into a trap. This made the already shortened list pathetically small, as they were forced to look up only those potential clients who were actually rooted in Japan.
More narrowly avoided traps. More slammed doors. More muttering behind his back. Control and the loyalty of his men was slipping away from him.
And then, at last, the phone rang.
It wasn't the kind of job he would have preferred. It wasn't even close. But the client was obnoxiously wealthy. He was offering a fairly sizeable amount of money for services rendered.
Crawford's choice was clear in that he had no choice. No one else wanted the team that had fallen from Rosenkreuz's graces. They needed the money. And he was fairly certain his teammates might actually turn on him if he didn't accept the job.
So Schwarz was working again.
As bodyguards for some rich corporate man's son.
Well... At least it was easy money.
It wasn't until much later that Crawford would kick himself in the ass and curse the day he ever heard the name Ootori.
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