Cat's Cradle: Chapter One

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is the second part of a trilogy that began with Force of Habit. You are strongly urged to read that before starting on this one as I have a tendency to introduce new characters and twist things more than a little. In short, this will probably make no sense otherwise (and I really hope those who read Habit will be able to follow this – my mind has a habit of making leaps in logic that my typing doesn't always keep up with).  As in Force of Habit this fic will contain swearing, violence, yaoi and gratuitous use of literary references and foreign languages. Oh yeah this mainly took so long because a certain redhead is sulking at losing his blond playmate and refused to co-operate with my muse. So I decided on some added ick just to make things really unpleasant for Ran. That'll teach him.

Inside nowhere gets so cold here

Trapped in this reflection of me

Kiss me gently, screw me, rent me

All I want is all I can see.

This is all I ever thought I'd never feel

When I dream about you feels like it's for real

Now I'm lost without you, I'm still waiting here

Eternity, you're so pretty

Dressed in black so fashionably

I'm too easy, touch me, tease me

Blow me into infinity

This is all I ever thought I'd never feel

When I dream about you feels like it's for feel

Now I'm lost without you, I'm still waiting here

Still here

HALO, Still here.

The target had been dispatched with little difficultly. Abyssinian withdrew the sword in one smooth movement and allowed the body to slump to the floor in a growing pool of blood. He watched the spread of crimson for another moment or two before turning back to the door he had entered the room by. There was still the wife to find and eliminate.

Bombay and Siberian were currently occupied with the mansion's small but effective security guards, leaving the corrupt politician and his wife to Abyssinian's sword. He shook the worst of the blood from the blade with a deft flick of his wrist, causing the dark fluid to splatter across the expensive wallpaper that decorated the corridor he walked down. He was in no particular hurry, the intelligence he'd been briefed with had informed him that the remaining Hanashi-san would be fast asleep in the bedroom, courtesy of a hefty dose of prescribed sleeping pills.

His wary gaze studied his surroundings as he passed, alert for anything that would indicate a trap or hidden alarm system. There was certainly a multitude of potential places to hide such devices amongst the clusters of expensive antiques, both Japanese and Western that almost littered the polished mahogany surfaces lining the hall. The combined effect of so many status symbols in such close proximity was ultimately overpowering. Tang Dynasty pottery sat next to a Louis XIV carriage clock and a Renaissance block of marble, carved to form a cherub with gilt wings. The resulting clash of cultures seemed to strip the works of their inherent beauty and instead created the sense of a fleamarket or bazaar.

Refocusing his eyes away from the visual cacophony on show, Abyssinian stopped before the door that should lead to the bedroom. He paused to listen for any noise other than the slow and regular breathing which would hopefully indicate the target was sleeping peacefully on the other side of the wooden panelling. Not hearing any indication of activity that would cause concern, Abyssinian reached out a gloved hand and silently opened the door, slipping inside the room with effortless grace.

Hanashi's sleeping form was huddled under a mountain of quilts and blankets, a protective covering that may have caused trouble for bullets, but not the katana blade that was poised to strike. A few drops of Hanashi's husband's blood fell onto the cream bedding, but the blots were soon disguised by the spreading crimson of severed arteries. Abyssinian removed his sword from the corpse and turned to leave the room.

Movement in the corner caused him to tense, sword raised in readiness for a previously unseen adversary, but all that met his gaze was the polished surface of a large mirror. Abyssinian exhaled his breath in a soft snort of disgust at his skittishness and spun quickly to leave the room.

The edge of his blade knocked against a wooden stand, causing the cluster of Faberge eggs to wobble precariously. One rolled and fell to the floor, the delicate eggshell smashing open in an array of glittering fragments to reveal the hollow interior. The pieces crunched beneath his feet as he retreated from the room, paying no heed to the remains of the valuable item.

And that was where the mission had effectively ended. Weiss had returned to the Koneko without any further problems, intent on washing off the blood and grabbing what sleep they could before having to open the shop. Ignoring the two talkative younger assassins and their attempts to coax a word out of him, their redheaded leader simply retired to his room. He all but fell into his bed: desperate for sleep without the dreams that had so recently plagued him.

His subconscious shared his stubborn streak, however, and Ran found himself back in a room that he quickly recognised as being his father's study. Sat on the floor, in the middle of the cream rug, was Aya. She looked up at him and Ran was struck with the strong impression that she had been waiting for him. Instead of the warm smile that he had always associated with his younger sister, Aya treated him to a cold and analysing gaze. It made Ran feel distinctly uncomfortable, even more so when he realised it for the expression he wore himself these days. Dropping her eyes away from her elder brother, Aya turned to the large ornate bowl in front of her. "Finally. You've been getting a bit too proficient at the abandonment aspect lately, brother-dearest." She regarded the china in front of her and Ran recognised it for one of his mother's prized antiques. She normally kept it on a small table in the hallway and both he and Aya knew that touching the bowl was not permitted. He couldn't think what had possessed Aya to remove it from its usual place.

As if sensing his hesitance, Aya looked over at her brother with a faint smile that more closely resembled a smirk. "Well? Since you're here you might as well join me. Unless I've sunk that low in your estimation."

Fighting to keep the frown from his forehead and likewise from his sister's sight, Ran lowered himself to sit on the floor opposite Aya, the bowl between them. Nodding towards the china antique, Ran glanced at his sister's indifferent expression. "What are you doing with that?"

Aya smiled slightly, but did not immediately answer, choosing instead to reach for some items on the floor beside her. She produced two pale eggs and threw one over to Ran. "Really, brother of mine, I would have thought you'd remember this. You did have a certain talent for it after all." Aya paused to smirk at her brother before raising her spare hand to show the long hat pin she held in it. "Remember to watch the amount of force you use, or you'll crack the shell." Then, as if to demonstrate the point flashed downwards to pierce through the eggshell. Having made two holes, one at either end of the egg, Aya lifted the shell to her mouth. Blowing into the hole at the top caused the fluid contents of the egg to slowly force their way out through the other hole to gather in the bowl.

Pausing in her task, Aya noticed that Ran had not yet performed the same action upon his own egg and raised a brow at her brother. "Honestly Ran, can't you recognise something dead when you see it? The only thing that egg is going to do is rot, so you might as well make it beautiful." Her tone was faintly admonishing, yet there was a bitter undertone to it. "What you hold in your hand is something that will never have any value in its current state."

Swallowing, Ran slowly reached for the long pin and positioned it carefully above his own egg. He glanced at his sister and paused. The dripping fluid from Aya's egg was no longer the clear egg white combined with the milky yellow of yolk, but a deep, almost purplish red. It gathered in glistening globules on the base of the eggshell before dropping into the bowl with a sickening noise. Ran was so fixated on the florid mass gathering in his mother's treasured china that he didn't notice his hands clenching until the egg in his grasp shattered, spilling over Ran's fingers with a noxious stench similar to that of decaying flesh. He looked down at his hands in horror as he surged to his feet, at the splattered chunks of gore that oozed through his hands to drop on the carpet around the fragments of eggshell.

Seeing the shell seemed to take Ran back to Hanashi's bedroom, complete with what had once been a Faberge egg and the corpse of Hanashi-san. Standing beside him and surveying the broken pieces of egg with a chiding expression was Aya. Showing no concern whatsoever for the body upon the bed, the young girl knelt down and began to collect the pieces together. "Honestly Ran, I would have thought you'd be more careful." She paused to study a section before looking at her brother coldly. "I would think you should feel some affinity with these."

Unable to discern the motives for his sister's hostile behaviour, Ran blinked at her helplessly. "I'm sorry?"

Aya regarded him for another moment before snorting in contempt and picking another exquisitely decorated egg from the table. "It's all about creating a façade, an image," she commented. "Paint up the outside, make it look pretty and impressive so no one will realise that the centre is cold and hollow. That if it appears pleasant enough no one will care that it's dead inside." Extending her arm out across the floor, Aya let the egg drop and shatter on the floor. Then she looked away from the fragments, facing her brother once more. "I don't know what you think you've achieved with this act, but my brother would never behave this way. Ran is dead and you're the empty shell that wears his name. And that is something I won't forgive you for."

Ran opened his mouth to protest, in much the same way that he had in every other variation of this dream. But the words stuck in his throat and he made no argument. After all, wasn't Aya right? Wasn't she merely voicing the conclusions Ran himself had reached?

Aya made a disgusted noise as she turned to sit delicately on the edge of the bed, not bothered in the least with the sticky red fluid that congealed upon the sheets. "You can't even defend yourself as even you with all your stubbornness can recognise the truth. It shouldn't be any wonder that you surround yourself with death and suffering; after all, you've lost the ability to care for anything."

"But I care for you," the words were barely discernable as Ran forced them from his mouth in a dry whisper.

Aya laughed. "But I'm gone. And I'm never coming back." She leant back further, pushing her hands backwards so the blood seeped through her fingers. "All because of you," she added. "I wonder, what kind of brother does that make you?"

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Ken tried to enter the Koneko as quietly and unobtrusively as possible. Theoretically, it shouldn't have been too hard for an assassin. However theory failed to take into account his co-worker's unnatural awareness and also his temper. A hand clamped down on his shoulder with a grip of iron and Ken was spun to face the redhead's ire. "What time is it?"

Ken sighed. "Ten past nine."

"And when did your shift start?"

"Quarter to." Ken had to bite back the irritated response he wanted to give Ran, but the older man's mood had been so foul as of late that even the football player wasn't dumb enough to risk it. Ever since a certain amnesiac blond had gone wandering off to pastures new in the midst of a fight, there had frankly been no living with the redhead. Ran had always been a little bit tricky to deal with, but the guy had developed a bitch of a new persona and Ken was determined to have nothing more to do with brainwashing and personality transplants even if it meant spending the rest of his life in an underground bunker.

Moving back to the subject at hand, Ran had released the younger man and silently returned to his flower displays. Ken decided to regard this as a completed reprimand and pointed hint to get to work. He tied his apron off and moved behind the cash register to put through the first of the day's sales. He worked steadily, his mind falling into the almost robotic motions as he turned his thoughts to the events had has transpired since Yohji had upped and left a little over a month ago.

The most notable effect had been Ran's immediate withdrawal from any attempt at civility or social interaction. He had quit his work at the hospital soon after, telling Birman in no uncertain terms that he had no interest in saving lives when his only talent was taking them. Then, pissy persona now firmly in place, the redhead had retreated to his room. And there he remained unless drawn out by shifts in the Koneko or the promise of shedding some blood. To be perfectly honest, Ken didn't care what kind of shady links Yohji may have with the other assassin groups in Tokyo who were so willing to kill any members of Weiss; he wasn't bothered if the blond revealed himself to have some freaky superpowers like Schwarz. He just wanted the man back so there was a form of barrier between him and the stroppy redhead. Call it cowardice or self-defence, Ken was simply sick of being Ran's verbal punchbag because someone dared to walk out on him.

A shadow fell over the brunet athlete and Ken looked up to see Birman smiling at him. Not impressed by her friendly expression in the least, Ken groaned and let his head fall forwards to rest against his chest. "No. No more missions. That redheaded bastard is already working us to the bone."

The Kritiker agent shook her head with another smile. "Don't worry, I have no intention of adding to your workload. However, I do need to speak with you all as soon as is convenient." Then the brunette simply moved to one side and began to wait for Fujimiya to notice her presence.

It didn't take long, judging by the way the eldest member of Weiss' eyes narrowed, but it was still quite a while before Ran decided to walk over to join the pair. He treated Birman to a prime specimen from his collection of glares as his eyes noticed a distinct lack of any telltale videotape. "Why are you here?" Fujimiya demanded bluntly.

Birman simply smiled pleasantly, not seeming in the least bit perturbed by the redhead's manner. "If you would be so kind as to close the shop, Fujimiya-san. I have something I need to discuss with you all."

Ran's eyes narrowed again, but he nevertheless moved away to herd out the customers as requested. Birman didn't wait for him to finish closing the shop, but simply began to make her way into the basement. Ken glanced over at the rigid form of Fujimiya and decided to go and retrieve Omi from his revision session rather than face Ran in yet another one of his tempers.

All gathered expectantly in the basement a short while later, Weiss regarded a rather nervous looking Birman. Clearing her throat, the brunette seemed to mentally shrug and launched into her announcement. "Your position has been compromised and we have intelligence that indicates you have been targeted by several groups intent on killing you. As both employees of Kritiker and an essential tool with which to keep criminal elements in line, we cannot afford to risk your safety. You are going to have to leave immediately."

Ken swallowed and tried to appear unconcerned. "I'm sure we'd be able to manage, but I'm not turning down the chance of a break. Villa Weiss sounds pretty good to me." Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Omi observing his casual attitude and being visibly reassured.

Birman however frowned slightly. "That's not what we had in mind, I'm afraid."

From his position in the corner, Ran snorted. "The safehouse has also been compromised. I assume this is due to some sort of hack while Kritiker were attempting to rebuild after the explosion?"

Birman nodded curtly. "They have the locations to every place we could possibly think to send you. In addition, they know your appearances and enough other information to make lying low all but impossible. Japan is no longer safe."

Ken spluttered and held up his hands in a warding off gesture. "Wait a minute … Japan? We can't find anywhere to hide out in an entire fucking country?"

Omi also looked taken aback by the announcement. "Surely the threat can't be that serious. Hiding out in another country sounds extreme … and wouldn't we stick out even more when surrounded by unfamiliar customs and languages?"

"Languages?" Ken croaked. "I don't speak any other languages … none of us do! Fuck, I knew I should have tried harder at English."

"Who are the assassin group?" Ran demanded, ignoring the reactions of his two teammates. "You obviously know specifics or you wouldn't be here."

Birman sighed again. "I would have thought it obvious. Schwarz are out for your blood, gentlemen."

TBC