Incarnations of Insanity: Prologue

Dear Santa,

So I hear you're in the business of taking requests this time of year. Well, Old Man, I've got one for you. How about a naked Brad Crawford wrapped in red ribbon, especially for me?

You're probably thinking, "Oh shit, that’s a tall order," but since it's Christmas, I'm willing to settle for less. How about giving me one unbelievably good fuck with him instead? That's right. I want to plug his ass so good that he’'l still feel me inside him a year of Sundays from now. I mean, it's not as if we don't fuck each other's brains out already, but I'm talking mind-blowing sex here. You know what I'm saying, right? I'm sure you still nail the old lady now and then. And it's definitely not too much to ask. By my calculations, I've been a relatively good boy this year. My kill count is a whole ten people less than last year. Well, ten and a half if you consider that photographer's mind I scrambled, but still, I think I've restrained myself admirably.

Oh, and while you're at it, throw in a pack of smokes, German if you've got any but I'm not too picky at the moment. Apparently, Crawford's got it in his head to throw out my whole stash, something about smelling up his car and damaging my lungs.

Not so naughty,
Schu

(***)

"What are you doing on my computer?"

Schuldich nearly jumped out of his chair at the pubescent voice that had jarred him from his mischievous reverie. Annoyed, he gave a quick glance at Nagi's small frame and then turned his attention back to the screen.

"I'm writing a letter to Santa Claus," Schuldich replied as he finished typing in his name.

"You're what???" Nagi strode purposefully up to the computer and casually tried to peek over the German's shoulder. "Why would you do something like that?"

Schuldich smiled enigmatically. "I got bored waiting for the mission so I turned on the TV just in time for them to post Santa's email address. For the little kiddies, I guess. And I just thought I'd have some fun."

Nagi let out an exasperated sigh and shook his head, looking for all intents and purposes like he was the oldest one of the two instead of the youngest. "Schu, will you ever grow up?"

"What? I was bored!" The telepath let out a defensive whine.

"Well, it's time to go. Crawford's waiting." The boy turned and started to move away, his voice suddenly businesslike and serious.

"Fuck, a miniature Crawford in the making," Schuldich thought as he scanned through his letter. He amusedly wondered what the person who got this would think.

"Hey, Nagi, how do you send on one of these things?"

The young telekinetic paused briefly before exiting the room. "Click Send." Sarcasm dripped aplenty in that reply.

The German shot the departing boy a sidelong glance. "Smart ass."

Scanning the screen for 'send', he easily found the button on the top left corner and depressed the mouse. That done, he quickly turned off the screen and made his way down to the car, all the while, wondering which 'late lecture' he would be receiving from Crawford tonight for dawdling.

Sure, he and the American were sometime lovers, but work was work and whatever was done in the bedroom stayed in the bedroom, especially for Crawford. Schuldich knew this and accepted it. In fact, when they'd first slept together, both of them had understood that it was just a convenient fuck ... that they meant nothing more to each other than a willing body to take when the urge struck. It was a symbiotic relationship of which both parties took advantage.

After several more minutes, Schuldich finally made his way into the garage, only to see Crawford standing idly by his black Beamer, and giving the lagging team member a stony stare.

Schuldich smiled innocently and turned on his irresistible charm. "I know I'm late but I have a really good excuse."

"Get in," the American said as he opened the door and settled into the driver's seat.

'What? That's it? No droning lecture? No boring diatribe about my irresponsibility?' Pulling the handle of the passenger door, the telepath felt almost disappointed at the lack of response from the so-called Schwarz leader.

'Well, at least I get to ride shotgun,' he consoled himself as he noticed Nagi and Farfarello seated in the back.

The city nightlife passed by in a blur as they made their way toward their destination, neon streaks of light and inconsequential thoughts of people zipping by Schuldich's senses in a flurry of undecipherable gibberish. He had long learned to filter out the excess of noise for the sake of his own sanity, but sometimes, like now, he gave into the urge of losing himself in the molasses that was humanity.

'Focus, Schuldich, focus,' he told himself. 'Don't wander. Mission, focus on the mission or Crawford will have your ass ... well, he's already had it ... but ... focus!' He had to fight to repress any unnecessary ideas from seeping into his head, although the image of Crawford crying out in sexual release always seemed to creep unknowingly through the cracks.

Feeling restless, he sent the mental thought to the American and watched for a reaction from the corner of his eye.

Nothing.

'Damn! That was no fun.' Crossing his arms and pouting, Schuldich wondered if the man ever showed any emotion at all in public. On that note, did the man ever 'feel' anything at all? It'd certainly be nice to ruffle the man's feathers for once, to get an over-the-top response from the one person who could give a stick in mud a run for its money.

"We're here." The American's simple words snapped Schuldich from his musings and prompted him to look at their target.

Nothing too exciting, Schuldich noted as he got out of the car. He hadn't asked for the details from Crawford but he knew enough about their small excursion tonight: just a simple routine destruction of a laboratory for a client who'd been suspected of performing some questionable experiments.

On children, Schuldich had managed to glean, but that was neither here nor there. The little buggers got in the way most of the time anyways.

Explosives neatly concealed, the four Schwarz members approached the deserted building with an ingrained stealth honed from years of training, and easily gained access inside with some maneuvering on Nagi's part.

'Shit, this is so simple, it's frigging boring!' complained Schuldich as he turned around to survey the almost indiscernible surroundings. Taking in the dark shapes in front of him and the shadowed objects on the wall, he concluded that this must be the reception area.

"Nagi, take Farfarello and cover the south wing. I'll cover the north. Schuldich, you're staying here, as lookout. We'll meet at the car in fifteen minutes." Crawford's orders came out bluntly, and his tone brooked no argument. Like a good little soldier, Nagi led Farfarello away toward their assigned post while Schuldich stared in disbelief at the American's retreating back.

"What!!" he yelled as loud as he dared. "Why do I have to stay here? If I'm supposed to do nothing, why'd you even bring me along?"

'Don't argue, Schuldich. Just stay here.' A cold and commanding mental order from an equally cold and commanding man.

"Fuck, what am I supposed to do? Twiddle my thumbs while you guys have all the fun?"

'Look, just stay. I didn't know until we were halfway here that you weren't supposed to come.' And with that, the man disappeared into the encompassing darkness, leaving a very pissed off German in his wake.

Grumbling and cursing intermittently, Schuldich paced the reception area floor, giving potted plants and innocent chairs a good, swift kick whenever the name 'Crawford' passed through his lips. This was no fun at all: he had so looked forward to destroying things tonight, but no, the American asshole had to go and ruin what little amusement he could find.

Why did everything have to go according to his plans anyways? Granted, the man got glimpses of the future but that didn't mean he knew everything. And yet, the rest of them followed the American's commands as if they were law.

Before long, Crawford's telepathic call for retreat came. 'Schuldich, timers are set. Tell Nagi and Farfarello to get out. You too.'

'Yeah, yeah,' the telepath rebutted as he passed the message onto Nagi.

"Damn know-it-all bastard," he muttered as he viciously assaulted a fern by the receptionist's desk. "See if he's getting any tonight."

As expected, the plant pot fell over with a muffled thud, which was followed by the quiet 'swish' of spilling soil. However, the shuffling sound that ensued shortly thereafter caused the German to pause. He cast out a telepathic net, but found nothing. Muscles tightening into alertness, he glanced around the desk and caught a brief glimpse of something small scurrying into a corridor that led to the back offices.

A child? Couldn't be.

Curious, and a little too eager for some action, Schuldich followed.

(***)

Nagi leaned against the passenger door as he watched Crawford walk calmly from the doomed building. He heard Farfarello playing around with something inside the car - no doubt one of his knives - but his attention was focused on the approaching man. It was unreal how Crawford always seemed to be so collected during missions, possessing a self-control that was almost worth worshipping. He wondered how Schuldich had managed to get the stiff American into bed.

Oh, yes, he knew about the two eldest members of Schwarz. It was impossible not to when one hung around Schuldich, whose conceit gave a new meaning to the saying, 'kiss and tell'.

"Where's Schuldich?" Crawford asked as he made his way over toward Nagi.

The boy scanned the path that the Schwarz leader had just taken, and saw no sign of the missing assassin. "I don't know. He wasn't here when I came."

Crawford stiffened, his posture straightening even more if that was possible.

And it was then that the explosives went off, sending a shock of suffocating heat and jarring vibrations in every direction. Glass and debris momentarily littered the night sky, illuminated seductively by a fiery inferno that was as breathtaking as it was destructive. Watching the remnants of a once proud building fall gracefully to the ground, it was oddly artistic, and almost ... beautiful.

"Schuldich ..." Crawford's choked whisper caused Nagi to look up at the man's face and for the very first time, he saw something - Panic? Worry? Sadness? - flitter through that usually calculating gaze. Perhaps it was the reflection of the burning building that caused Crawford's eyes to glitter like that, or perhaps it was something else, but whatever it was, the man looked ... different.

Before Nagi knew what was happening, Crawford whipped around and began making his way back toward the demolished building. When the boy finally realized what the American intended to do, he quickly sent out his telekinetic chains and held the struggling man in his place.

"Crawford, you can't save him! Not in there!" Nagi shouted to be heard above the still crackling fires. Crawford didn't seem to notice the boy's comment as he continued to pull against his invisible restraints, but his movements soon weakened and eventually, subsided altogether. He watched silently, transfixed as, piece by piece, the building fell defeated to the ground.

End Prologue