Weiss Kreuz - insert title here

[cleflink]

A Weiss Kreuz fic this time... hope people enjoy.

Title: Rain Making (working title - any ideas anyone?)
Part: 1/3
Fandom: Weiss Kreuz
Pairings: KenxOC, maybe KenxYohji if you squint
Warnings: severely messed up bad guys, attempted NCS, blood and violence, angst (it's Weiss - do you expect anything less?)
Disclaimer: Not mine - I just perv  ;P

Not worksafe. PG-13 for sexual situations and blood-kink. Lime.

The Weiss boys are after a killer, and they're using one of their own as bait.

The rain came down in torrents, pounding relentlessly on the desolate strip of road winding through the empty countryside on the outskirts of Tokyo. It was a dark mysterious night, the steady sound of falling rain the only noise in the gloom. Dim light bleeding from the street lamps overhead did little to brighten the oppressive blackness of the night, flickering fitfully in the heavy downpour.

By the faint gleam of the lamp a figure could be seen standing at the roadside, his expression as bleak as the weather. He was soaked to the bone, soft brown hair plastered flat against the sides of his face and trailing rivulets of water down his neck into his collar. The young man was dressed in a pair of drenched black soccer shorts and a simple white jersey that, without the protection of a jacket, clung damply to his broad chest. His water-filled running shoes were black with white stripes, matching the striped knee socks that now bunched disconsolately around his ankles, dragged down by the weight of water. The blue sports bag he held in one hand was in an equally sodden state, hanging limply in his grip as the water running down his wrist dripped onto the canvas fabric in a monotonous counterpart to the pounding rain.

Glancing at his watch, the numbers almost invisible in the downpour, Ken let out a long suffering sigh. He had been standing there for nearly an hour now and was so wet that he was sure he’d never be dry again. He shivered slightly, wishing that he could just get the night over and done with before his skin started shrinking. A glower flitted briefly across his open young face as he reflected dourly on the circumstances that had stuck him out here in the first place.

*******

 

“…Yamagata Seiichi is guilty of fraud, embezzlement, murder and extortion,” Manx said evenly, removing a thick manila folder from her bag. The four members of Weiss, Kritiker’s best team, listened silently in the dark mission room in the basement of the Koneko, their faces bland and grimly businesslike.

“The problem is, we don’t have enough concrete evidence to incriminate any of his accomplices, and there are too many to eliminate all of them. If we can get a hold of Yamagata’s personal files, however, we can wipe out the whole operation.”

“You want us to go on a recon mission?” That was Aya, his deep voice dropping sharply into the silence as he reached out to claim the folder.

“Not quite,” Manx shook her head, red curls bouncing. “The information is certainly vital, but Yamagata is still the primary target of this mission. It’s up to you to devise a mission plan that enables you to obtain both.”

“Want me to go through his computer system?” offered Omi.

“That won’t work. He’s a very wary person…”

“I wonder why,” drawled Yohji, a sardonic edge to his smooth voice. “I’d be wary too if I had my fingers in this many pies.”

Manx ignored him. “…and doesn’t keep computer copies of any of his files. Everything is on hand-written records.”

“What, is he from the stone age?” demanded Ken from where he was lounging on the couch next to Aya. “How are we supposed to know where the original copies of these records are hidden?”

“He has a country home just outside the city where he often stays to indulge in his more unacceptable hobbies. His records are stored somewhere in the house so he can keep them closely monitored. The guards for the facility are all highly trained and handpicked personally by Yamagata himself.”

“No chance of sneaking in that way then,” Yohji noted. He glanced at Manx over his sunglasses, jade eyes thoughtful. “What sort of ‘unacceptable hobbies’ are we talking about Manx?”

 “Yamagata has wide-ranging tastes,” Manx told him calmly. “Although one of his preferred forms of entertainment on his way out of town is picking up hitchhikers and taking them back to his estate for the evening. It saves him the trouble of selecting a victim and it makes them harder to trace in a missing persons report. We’ve recovered some of the bodies, but most of them are never seen again.”

“Are we talking women hitchhikers exclusively?” asked Yohji.

“Oh no. Weren’t you listening when I said that he has wide-ranging tastes? He’s actually quite partial to young men in their early twenties.” She gestured with one manicured hand at the folder in Aya’s lap. “There are some pictures of the ones we’ve found in your portfolio.”

Ken leaned over to look at the pictures over Aya’s shoulder. “That’s sick,” he declared in disgust, pulling back quickly. “Why would someone do that?”

“Do you still need to ask Ken-ken?” sighed Yohji wearily. “I would’ve thought you’d get tired of wondering.”

“If you’re all in,” Manx interjected. She glanced around the room, taking their silence as assent. “I’ll leave you to it then.” Her red heels clicked on the stairs as she wordlessly ascended to the main room of the Koneko. Silence fell upon the room in the wake of her departure.

“Well?” Yohji questioned finally.

“Well what Yohji-kun?” asked Omi.

“It’s pretty obvious how we’re going to get in there Omittchi,” Yohji drawled, sprawling out on the couch casually. “This hitchhiker fetish should be pretty easy to exploit. All we have to decide is who’s going to play the bait.”

Ken was the first to respond. “You want one of us to pretend to be a hitchhiker so this sick bastard can take us home with the intention of torturing us to death?” he demanded incredulously.

“Pretty much.”

“Are you insane?”

Yohji grinned. “Only on the weekends.”

“We can decide after looking through these files,” Aya said suddenly. The other three turned as the redhead stood up and began to head for the stairs. “See which of us has the most likelihood of getting picked up. We can work on a plan from there.” Violet eyes regarded them all coolly. “Any objections?”

Ken sighed and rose to follow Aya out of the basement. “If we’re going to be up all night researching this bastard, I’m ordering a pizza. No point in making the evening a total write-off.”

“Ken,” Yohji grinned. “I think that’s the best idea I’ve heard all day.”

******

 

The sound of a car echoed dully across the dark strip of road, cutting off Ken’s musings.

“Finally,” he grumbled. “It’s about time.”

Hoping his expression didn’t give him away, the brunette shouldered his bag and began walking slowly along the side of the road towards the sound of the car, being careful to stay within the circle of light from the street lamp overhead. Though the irony of an assassin who actually wanted to be seen by his target didn’t escape him, Ken knew the whole mission would be a failure if the bastard drove by without doing so. He could only hope that his white shirt would stand out enough in the gloom for him to be seen by the car’s passenger.

The car rumbled closer and twin beacons of light pierced the darkness like great yellow eyes. A black limousine materialized out of the dark night, the swish of the wipers loud in the relative silence beneath the pounding rain. Careful not to make the movement appear too deliberate, Ken glanced up at the car as it passed him, allowing the headlights to illuminate his face and figure.

A bitter taste filled Ken’s mouth as, without so much as slowing down, the car carried right on past him and disappeared back into the rain. In an even worse mood than before, the brunette was about to throw up his arms in surrender when the sound of crunching gravel came to his ears. Ken looked up quickly to see the car reversing backwards towards him. It backed up until the back door was level with him, then one of the windows rolled down and a man’s voice called out.

“Excuse me, young man?”

Ken found himself staring into the pleasant face of a middle aged man in an expensive business suit. Smiling brightly, the man seemed unmindful of the rain falling on his sleeves as he leaned out of the window towards Ken.

“Did you need a ride?” Yamagata Seiichi asked him kindly.

*****

 

“Y’know, I’ve seen some pretty weird shit in my day, but this Yamagata is just swimming in vices. Where does he think them all up?”

They were all sitting around the table in the kitchen and going through the information Manx had given them, as well as some extra data courtesy of Omi’s impressive computer hacking skills. The remnants of three large pizzas were in the centre of the table, newspaper clippings, official documents and photographs spread out all around them.

“Could you possibly pay attention to what we’re supposed to be doing, Yohji?” Aya asked the blond, a touch of asperity in his voice. “We need to know which of us best fits Yamagata’s tastes.”

“Working on it O Fearless Leader,” Yohji replied flippantly. “Although I’m getting the impression that anything that breathes might be this guy’s type.”

“Sounds kind of like you Yotan,” noted Ken, munching on a piece of pizza and not looking up from the paper he was reading. “You’re not related to this creep are you?”

“Give it a rest you two,” Omi ordered, having already heard more than enough banter between the pair to last him all week. “Try and stay focused okay? There must be something in these reports to give us a hint as to what sort of disguise we’ll need to pull this off.”

“These hitchhiker guys all seem to be pretty built,” Ken offered, squinting at the pictures of previous victims. “Although it’s kinda hard to tell what they looked like before he got his hands on them. This guy is a real sick fuck that’s for sure.”

“That might count Omi out,” suggested Yohji. He grinned at the younger boy. “No offence Chibi, but you’re not exactly the bodybuilding type.”

“None taken Yotan. I’m well aware that my darts don’t really require the same physical strength as all of your weapons do.”

“He’s also a bit younger than Yamagata’s normal targets,” Aya reminded them blandly.

“Sounds like Omi’s out then,” declared Ken. “Can we narrow it down any more?”

Yohji made a face at the report in his hands. “This doesn’t help. He seems to favour the good-looking, clean shaven type.” He grinned at them, jade eyes sparkling with good humour. “That doesn’t really count out any of us, although I’m clearly the best looking out of all of us.”

“Give it a rest, Yohji.”

“You know it’s true Ken-ken.”

“Here’s something,” Aya said suddenly. “He sponsors a male sports team for college students. The players are all in the same age group as Yamagata’s former victims. There were some abortive inquiries into the possibility of harassment charges against him last spring, but he’s never been officially charged.”

Omi held out a hand for the document and Aya passed it over wordlessly. The other three waited silently as the genki young man read through it. “This is it,” he smiled finally, obviously pleased. “Judging by this, he’ll likely be attracted to an athlete who plays his favourite sport, especially on a deserted road in the middle of nowhere. If one of us pretends to be a player on his way home from a game he’s sure to take the bait.”

“What sport does he sponsor Omittchi?” asked Yohji.

Instead of directing his answer at the blond, Omi turned to smile into Ken’s brown eyes, his expression innocent. “Soccer.”

*****

 

“Did you need a ride?” Yamagata Seiichi asked kindly.

“Thank you, but I don’t want to be a bother,” Ken denied, bravely resisting the impulse to run screaming into the night. “I’m not even going the same direction as you.”

Yamagata smiled. “It’s no bother young man. It’s pouring out here, I can’t just leave you out in this. Please, let me give you a ride to wherever you’re going.”

Hesitating for just a moment so as not to appear too enthusiastic, Ken finally nodded and stepped forward. “Thank you. This is really kind of you.”

“Don’t mention it,” Yamagata declared, opening the door to the limo and moving back to make room for Ken on the seat next to him. “I’m not about to let a fine young lad like yourself struggle through this horrid weather. Where are you headed anyway?”

“Tokyo,” Ken answered, feeling horribly constricted inside the car despite the spacious interior. He firmly told his instincts to take a hike and focused on the part he was supposed to be playing. “My team had a game today but I missed the bus home so I had to walk. Everyone else must have got back hours ago.”

“You play soccer?” the man asked, glancing at Ken’s attire. He smiled kindly. “Aiming for the J-League?”

Ken forced a laugh. “Isn’t everyone?” He looked down at his sodden form. “Don’t look much like pro material right now though, do I?”

Yamagata’s brown eyes perused Ken’s body leisurely, taking in the tanned skin, the soaked white shirt that did nothing to conceal the firm, muscular chest underneath, and the damply clinging soccer shorts plastered lovingly to his upper thighs. “I think even a J-Leaguer would look like that if he’d been out in the rain all night,” he answered finally. “But you’ve got a long way to go to get to Tokyo.”

Ken’s expression became pained. “I don’t want to put you of your way.”

“Don’t worry young man,” Yamagata soothed, reaching out with one hand to pat Ken’s knee gently. “I offered to help didn’t I?” He paused, appearing to consider something. “I’m on my way to my country villa for the weekend. Would you accept my hospitality there for the evening?”

Ken bit his lip, unaware of how appealing an expression it was. “I don’t know, I really don’t want to cause you any trouble.”

“No trouble at all,” Yamagata assured him easily. “This is not the sort of night to be out and about, especially in the countryside. You can call home from my house to let your family know where you are and my chauffeur will drive you home in the morning.”

“No point in calling,” Ken denied absently, pretending to think about the offer. “My roommate is out of town for the weekend so there’s no one there.”

“Really?” An eyebrow arched in interest at that little detail. “Well then I’m sure you’d like some company as well.” Yamagata smiled conspiratorially. “And my cook prepares a really excellent western breakfast.”

‘This guy’s pretty good,’ Ken acknowledged to himself, a bit sickened at the thought of what he was getting himself into. Taking a deep breath, he smiled at the waiting Yamagata. “If you really don’t mind then, I’d love to accept your invitation, eto…”

“Seiichi,” the man offered.

“Seiichi-san. Thank you. My name is Ken.”

“The pleasure, I’m sure, will be all mine Ken.”

*****

 

“You’re not serious!” Ken exclaimed, backing up behind the couch. “You can’t honestly expect me to do that!”

“It’s for the mission, remember Ken-kun?” Omi soothed gently, carefully inching closer to the irate soccer player. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Yohji moving around the back of the TV to intercept Ken. “You fit right into the mould; you’re the most muscular, you’re athletic and you like soccer. You’re best suited to going undercover.”

“I don’t care. I can’t believe you want me to do this solo!”

“It’s not solo, exactly. We’ll all be ready to give you backup if something goes wrong, but the security at the house is pretty high for us all to go in at once.” Omi directed his blue eyes beseechingly at Ken. “Please calm down Ken-kun, this is the best chance we have for this mission to succeed.”

“You want me,” Ken stated slowly, enunciating each word. “To go out of my way to get this guy to attack me or whatever the hell you call it, while you search the house for the papers and Yohji and Aya act as back-up. Did you want me to wear a ‘Please Molest Me’ sign while I’m at it!?”

“Don’t be such a coward Ken,” Aya declared from where he was leaning against the doorway to the living room. “You’re an assassin, you ought to be able to handle one man.”

“But we still don’t know how this guy manages to rape and mutilate all these people! He doesn’t seem powerful enough to do it by himself so there must be something else Kritiker didn’t find out. What if I get in trouble?”

While Ken’s attention was focused on Aya, Yohji pounced, tackling the brunette to the floor in a flurry of blond and purple. Ken returned the attack with a vengeance, but was quickly overwhelmed, Yohji using his leverage above the other boy to pin him to the floor within seconds.

“Don’t worry Ken-ken,” he grinned, one hand pressing the brunette’s face flat to the floor while the other held his torso down. “We’ll protect your virtue, so don’t worry your pretty little head about it. All you’ve gotta do is hold his attention. Omi’ll hack into the house security system and find the files before he’s even got your pants off. Nothing simpler.”

“Easy for you to say Yohji,” Ken grumbled, twisting futilely against the blond’s superior hold. “You’re not the one who’s ass is going to be on the line for this one.”

Literally,” came the amused reply.

“Leave him alone Yotan,” Omi admonished as Ken turned a rather unbecoming shade of red. “He’s right that this is a rather unusual situation, but we don’t have much to work with. Unfortunately this seems to be the plan with the most likelihood of success.”

“What I don’t get is why I can’t just kill the bastard and just look for the information after he’s dead,” Ken grumbled, his words muffled by the way his face was pressed into the carpet.

“He wears a heart monitor that’s directly connected to the surveillance equipment in the house,” Aya informed him. “If you kill him, the alarms will go off and they’ll be a swarm of armed personnel on you before you can blink.”

Ken grimaced. “Can you say paranoid?” He sighed and stopped struggling. “Okay fine, you’ve convinced me. Yotan, get your bony ass off of me, your hips are digging into my back.”

“I’m not bony,” Yohji protested. “I’m lanky. And I’ll have you know that women find that very attractive.”

“Good for them. Too bad ‘bony’ doesn’t do anything for me. Now get off.”

“Picky, picky,” murmured Yohji, getting fluidly to his feet and brushing dust off of his shirt. “You’d better hope this guy isn’t skinny Ken-ken, or you’ll be in for a long night.”

“Don’t remind me,” Ken groaned, accepting a hand up off the floor.

“Don’t worry Ken-kun,” Omi encouraged. “All you have to do is keep him occupied for a little while.”

“And just how do you propose I do that?”

***** To be continued