Disclaimer: I do not own Weiss Kruez/Knight Hunters or Witch Hunter Robin and their related characters. I do, however, claim the rights to any and all original characters appearing in this work of fiction. This work is solely for entertainment purposes only.
Kindred Spirits
Chapter One
More Questions than Answers
Yohji Kudou took a long drag off his cigarette and slowly exhaled. His green eyes once again glanced up and down the seemingly deserted street. Hidden in the recessed doorway of an apartment building, the young man silently shifted his position as he took one last puff before throwing the cigarette butt down and stubbing it out with the toe of his boot. Damn . . . where the hell is the target? We've been camped out on the streets for the past three days – and nothing.
Years of experience and personal training had taught Kudou that being patient was the only way to act when it came to taking down a target. Sometimes it was quick – like the last assignment – when Yohji and his companions had neutralized their target in a matter of hours; and then there were assignments like this one, where their target was elusive and it took a great deal of surveillance and planning before they could even begin to design a plan of attack. It was the quick kills that he preferred – get in, and then get out. When assignments became long and involved – with lots of surveillance – the risk of being discovered increased. Even more so when those assignments seemed to be a little . . . well, a little strange.
The team's latest assignment, an enforcer named Danny Tajiri, unfortunately fell into the long and strange category. From the information that Weiss had been given, Tajiri had a pretty bad-ass reputation. He was also super paranoid and had some of the most sophisticated surveillance equipment known installed not only in his many apartments (he never spent the night in the same one twice in a row), but also in his small fleet of automobiles. Nothing seemed that out of the ordinary, as far as the members of Weiss were concerned; the team had dealt with similar situations before, and such targets just took a little extra planning and time. A few sweeps of the street and the buildings where Tajiri kept his apartments; and the team had effectively dealt with the surveillance equipment. All that remained for them to do was to get the man himself.
A reputed Yokuza boss, Danny Tajiri gave new meaning to the words bad luck. Every business contact that he ever had falling out with, anyone that had ever offended him or refused him had apparently committed suicide. Although the authorities had tried repeatedly to make some kind of murder case against him – the lack of any evidence pointing to the contrary had frustrated them to no end. Despite tips from informants and other sources stating that Tajiri gloated and boasted of the deaths, there was no physical evidence linking him to the crime scenes. Time and again he had been brought in for questioning by the police only to be released a few hours later, with an air-tight alibi and a lack of evidence against him.
But what had finally tipped Kritiker's hand and sent Weiss after the Yokuza boss, was the apparent suicide of an undercover detective who had infiltrated Tajiri's organization in the hopes of finding evidence to charge him in several of the deaths. The detective had been one of the most trusted men on the force and because of the nature of undercover work, had been constantly monitored by a police psychologist who had risked his professional reputation by publicly stating that the officer was never suicidal and that he did not believe that the man would have killed himself. The dead detective's superior officers had also refuted the coroner's report and had renewed their efforts to pin the death on Tajiri; but once again the lack of evidence had eventually forced them to let the man go. That had apparently been enough to draw the attention of Kritiker and therefore, the members of Weiss; and the team had been alternately staking out several of Tajiri's known apartments for the past three days in hopes of locating him.
Taking another look out at the street, Yohji's keen eyesight caught the hint of movement and his body instantly snapped to attention as he watched the two figures that detached themselves from the shadows and slowly made their way up the block. Them again . . .
His blonde brow quirked with puzzlement, Kudou whispered into the small microphone headset that he wore. "Heads up Hidaka . . . you've got two headed your way."
"Roger that," came the response. "I see them now . . . aren't they the same two from last night?"
"Yeah . . . and they're wired too." Yohji could just barely make out the tiny ear bud sets that the two wore in the shadowed street lights.
Aya's voice sounded over the headset. "Omi, do you think you could hack into their frequency?"
"I don't know . . . I can try a broadband scan and see if I pick anything up, but I can't promise that it will work."
As the pair passed his hiding place on the opposite side of the street, Kudou once again sized them up. The one closest to him was a young man who looked to be only about sixteen or seventeen. He wore jeans and a motorcycle jacket with boots. The other was a woman in dress slacks and an expensive looking overcoat. They two of them could have been any couple walking home from a date if it weren't for the headsets and the way that they crept down the street, their eyes constantly searching and alert. Yohji wouldn't have been at all surprised if the two of them were armed; in fact, he was willing to bet his entire week's paycheck that they were. Despite their youthful appearance, the pair had the look of professionals. Yeah, but professional what?
The same couple had made several sweeps of the street the night before, near one of Tajiri's other safe-houses, while Yohji and the others had remained hidden and observed them. Aya had not looked happy when they had returned back to their flat just before dawn. Their de-facto leader had speculated that the two might be bodyguards or possibly assassins – hired by their intended target for additional protection. If so, that would make their job harder and require that they be eliminated first.
Kudou's headset crackled, "We've got another one." Aya's voice whispered, "He's on your side Yohji . . . you should be able to see him."
"No . . . ah, yeah – here he comes." Yohji crouched down and watched the man who came towards him. Like the other two, he did not seem to be that old and he moved with the air of a seasoned hunter. He had dark shoulder length hair and dark clothing under a long trench coat. Although he couldn't see his face, Yohji could feel the intensity that radiated out from the man; and Kudou knew that whoever the man was, he was dangerous. As the man drew closer to his hiding place, Yohji watched as his hand slipped underneath his coat.
As he reached the doorway where the blonde crouched in the darkness, Yohji saw the faint gleam of the gun in the man's hand and he smiled, the silver wire already gripped tightly between his gloved hands.
The man raised the gun towards the darkened doorway; before he could do more however, Yohji Kudou's leather-clad figure launched itself out toward him.
Yohji heard the man grunt as he just barely managed to throw himself to the side and avoid the blonde's kick that would have caught him in the middle of the chest. Landing lightly on the sidewalk, Kudou quickly spun around towards his adversary before the man could completely recover his balance. As he once again launched himself at the gun-wielding man, Yohji was only vaguely aware of voices shouting around him.
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"Amon!"
Haruto Sakaki had turned just in time to see a man-shaped shadow lunge out of the darkened doorway and towards his team leader.
At the sound of her companion's voice, Miho quickly turned, "Oh no!" Without a word spoken between them, the couple started running back up the street. As she ran, the young woman hurriedly spoke into the microphone pressed against her cheek. "Michael! Michael – "
"Karasuma?"
Before she could reply however, the young woman found herself confronted by a man holding a katana sword. As the man swung the sword at her, Miho swore and quickly rolled across the hood of a parked car.
Running up the middle of the street, she yelled into the headset. "Michael – we're under attack . . . I don't know, at least two . . ." As she answered, she saw that Haruto was engaged with another dark-haired man. "Make that three – and all armed from the look of it." She could hear the footsteps of the swordsman behind her and she swore once again, knowing that he was gaining on her. "We need some back up!"
"We're right around the corner – just hang on!" Dojima's voice echoed from the headset.
Miho was only a few yards away from where Amon was battling a blonde man when she felt the flat of the katana blade across her shoulder blades; and with a cry, she went down to the asphalt.
Haruto deftly blocked the young man's blows as the two sparred with one another. Blocking yet another punch, he swore as he heard the leather of his jacket tear – compliments of the clawed leather glove that his opponent was wearing. Haruto didn't even want to think about what those claws could do to his flesh and he used every bit of training that he had to keep them at bay. As he lunged out with a kick towards his opponent's knees, he was only vaguely aware of Miho crying out in pain; and it took every ounce of effort he had not to lose his concentration and look in her direction.
Amon had dropped his gun in favor of hand-to-hand combat. He hated having to leave it on the ground, but it was loaded with Orbo cartridges and wouldn't have done him much good against the blonde man unless he was a Craft user; and as the two continued to fight, Amon was almost certain that his opponent was not.
After last night's reconnaissance, Amon and his team knew that Danny Tajiri was being watched. But whether it was to protect their intended target or for some other reason, they didn't know; and even with Michael's formidable hacking skills they had not been able to learn anything based on the small amount of information that they had been able to gather. All they knew was that there were four watchers and that they had apparently been there for some time.
Blocking another punch by his leather-clad opponent, Amon heard running feet and he wondered if they were his people or their opponents'.
"Amon!" Dojima's voice called out to him.
Feigning a stumble, Amon swung out as the other man pressed his apparent advantage and the blonde let out a strangled gasp as Amon's fist connected with his midsection. However, the leather-clad man quickly recovered and spun around to kick Amon's feet out from under him. As Amon fell to his knees, the other man tightened the silvery wire between his hands and came towards him.
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Yohji Kudou watched in disbelief and horror as the wire between his hands suddenly began to flicker with flames and with a curse, he quickly dropped the burning line to the ground. His eyes still on the smoldering garrote, he momentarily forgot all about the man he had been battling moments before until the dark-haired man launched himself into the air and brought the blonde down with a slam onto the sidewalk.
Several minutes later and gasping for breath, Yohji opened his eyes to find a gun trained on the middle of his forehead. "Don't move." The voice and the gun belonged to a young woman with long brown hair. Once again, Kudou gets the girl. Yohji would have laughed aloud at his own joke, but the look on the woman's face made him have second thoughts. "One twitch, and I'll shoot."
Elsewhere, Amon had retrieved his gun and had it trained on the crimson-haired swordsman that stood next to Karasuma's slowly moving body. "Drop the sword."
Aya Fujimiya glared at the dark-haired man staring at him down the barrel of an unfamiliar looking gun. Adjusting the grip on his sword, he growled in his throat. "Who the hell are you people?"
The man regarded him, "I don't think you're in any position to ask questions." He waved the gun, "Now drop it – unless you want us to kill your friends."
Aya quickly glanced up the street and saw Yohji laying on the ground, a woman standing over him and a gun trained on the blonde's head. Another quick glance showed him Ken Hidaka, his hands behind his head while a young man also held a gun to it.
Fujimiya swore under his breath and gently lowered his sword to the asphalt. Raising his empty hands back up, he put them behind his head.
"Robin?" The man called out.
After a few moments, another figure slowly came up the street. As the figure neared, Aya saw that it was a young girl with blonde hair, dressed all in black and wearing eye glasses. Her long old-fashioned skirts brushed along the sidewalk as she quietly made her way towards the dark-haired man.
The girl was still several feet away when she suddenly looked up in alarm. Following her gaze, Aya saw a silver-tipped dart as it flew towards her out of the darkness.
Aya's elation was short-lived however, when the dart was engulfed in flame and became nothing more than ash as it floated down around the girl. Staring intently in the direction that the dart had come from, the girl seemed to focus her attention and once again there was a flash of fire – immediately followed by a yelp of pain.
"Omi!" Aya cried out.
"Robin – are you alright?" The man asked. The girl nodded her head yes but remained silent.
Turning his attention back to Aya, the man narrowed his eyes. "Tell him to come out – now!" As if to emphasize his words, the man tightened his grip on the gun, "Now."
Aya glared at the man for a moment before complying. "Omi – come out . . . Omi . . ."
After a few minutes, the youngest member of Weiss stepped out into the pale street light. Omi Tsukiyono's blue eyes were wide and there were scorch marks on his jacket. As he approached Aya, the other man thought he could smell the faint smell of char and something else. As Omi came to stand beside him, Aya saw that the back and sleeves of the young boy's jacket had been badly burned; and as he looked at him more intently, he saw that some of Omi's hair had been singed as well.
"Are you alright?" He whispered to the boy. With his wide eyes on the blonde girl, Omi slowly nodded his head.
After a few minutes, the rest of Weiss was slowly herded towards them; and when the four were standing together, the dark-haired man in the trench coat once again took charge. "Now, I want some answers."
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Finally dropping his gun, Amon spoke into his headset. "Michael . . . no, it's under control . . . everyone is alright." As he spoke, his eyes traveled over the four men in front of him. They were a curious assortment, and he wondered who – and more importantly what – they were. "I don't know – could be . . ."
"Amon," Robin interrupted him, her soft voice pulling him away from his conversation and he turned towards her.
"They're not;" she said, readjusting her glasses.
"How do you know?"
Robin looked at him, "Don't you think that if they were Craft users they would have used their power against us? I don't know who they are, but I'm almost certain that they aren't witches."
Witches? What the hell is going on? Aya looked at the girl and then at the man she called Amon. Are these people crazy?
"Still, we should have Michael do a check of the database just in case. Besides even if they're not, there is something else going on here and we need to know what it is."
The girl dropped her eyes and nodded her head.
"Who are you people? What the hell are you talking about witches for?" Aya growled. "What are you, a bunch of crazies? Witches don't really exist."
Amon regarded him silently, but it was the girl, Robin who spoke. "You would be surprised by what exists in this world – at what lives and moves among the throngs of humanity who go about their daily lives blissfully unaware of the battle that is being constantly waged on their behalf."
She paused for a moment, her deep green eyes intent on Aya's face. "For as it has been since the beginning of the human race, there are those that choose the darkness and those that choose the light." As she spoke, she held out her hand – and cupped in her palm, was a single dancing flame. "It is our job to deal with those that choose the darkness."