"Balinese!" Akayuki screamed, losing against the heavy closing door. "Help me!"
He dispatched his opponent with a minimum of fuss and ran to her side, adding his strength to hers. The door was held easily then, and even shoved back inch by slow inch.
"I... hate... being so... weak..." Akayuki gritted out as they pushed against the mechanics that were trying to close the thick steel slab. She jammed her staff between the door and the frame. It shivered but held as they both took hands off the door. She tried to catch her harsh breath and tame it.
"You may be weak in some respects, Kitten, but you're fast and flexible," Youji told her. He looked around. "Now, where did the three of them get to...?"
"Abyssian and Siberian got through the door. They should be dispatching Makarou and his associates right around now." The black-haired girl pressed a gloved hand to one of her earrings. "Bombay?"
"I'm in the third floor control room," his voice came back to her. "They're heading back your way. Makarou got away through a sea gate on a speed boat. I'm tracking him through the harbor now."
"Looks like it's gonna be a long night," Youji sighed as Ken and Aya reappeared, coming around a bend in the secret exit.
Lady Killer 8
by K.Huntsman
released 1 August 2000
"Oh man..." Ken moaned as he collapsed onto the sofa. "I can't believe it's dawn already. It hasn't taken us this long to complete a mission in ages."
Akayuki moved to stand behind him, her hands flexing then starting work on his shoulders. The thick leather of his jacket bunched under her hands, making her task impossible. She sighed and told him to take off the jacket. Ken obeyed and she resumed the massage with only his t-shirt between her and his skin. He moaned again, more deeply, as she worked knots out of his shoulders.
"Wouldn't have taken so long if that bastard hadn't pulled a get-away in the boat," Youji replied, watching the interesting scene the two presented. "When are the two of you going to get married?"
"When you give up smoking," Akayuki retorted, not even looking up at him. "Ken-san, you really should stop carrying your tensions around like this. It's not good for your body."
"Like you--" he hissed as she hit a sore spot, then continued, "--like you don't get tense?"
"I let go of it," she said. "I can't do my job if I'm all bound up in knots."
"I think Ken-kun just appreciates getting your hands all over him, Yuki-chan," Omi said, sitting down in front of one of the computers.
"Shut up, Omi," Ken grated from beneath his girlfriend's hands.
Aya arrived last, coming down the stairs to the Underworld. "Who does the morning shift today?" he asked.
"Me," Ken said, "but I am not going to be able to make it. I need sleep, Aya."
"I've got school," Omi said, shaking his head. "I can't skip my morning Chem lecture."
"No way," Youji said when Aya's eyes rested on him. "I vote Kitten is closed today."
Aya considered a moment, then nodded. His amethyst eyes drifted to Akayuki, questioning. She took her hands off of Ken's shoulders and smirked at the redhead. "I never get much business in the mornings anyway. I'll catch a few hours' sleep and open Magic House in the afternoon." She glanced back down at Ken. "Better? Can you still move?"
"Yes and no," he replied.
"Good thing that sofa is comfortable," she said, and went to the stairs. "Anyone need me for anything?" When heads were shaken, she turned to go. "Then, good night." She vanished up into the building.
"Making you sleep on the sofa already... Ken, are you sure you haven't gotten married to her and just forgotten to tell the rest of us?"
"Shut up, Youji!"
The woman called Manx looked at the closed flower shop and frowned. "They almost never close the shop," she murmured to herself. She wandered to the next store on the street and went in.
"Manx!" Omi greeted her, perched on the stool behind the counter.
She blinked. "Well, I'm surprised to see that you're here, Omi," Manx began. "Do I want to ask why Kitten in the House is closed?"
The college student smiled. "We got in late and everyone voted to take a day off."
"Late?" the redheaded woman asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Mm!" Omi nodded. "Just past dawn. I don't have any afternoon classes today, so I decided to help out Yuki-chan."
The other assassin came out from the storage room in the back as he talked, and nodded silently to Manx.
"Well, then," Manx said, drawing a tape out of her purse, "here's the next mission. Sorry it's so soon, but these things can't be helped."
Omi nodded, accepting the video cassette. "Any additional information?"
"Just the video tape this time," Manx said, picking up one of the bears sitting on a shelf. She examined its soft fur and silly face and wondered if Birman would like it. She smiled at the thought and put the bear back down. "I'll see the two of you later."
Listening as Manx's heels clicked down the sidewalk, Yuki looked at the tape in Omi's hands. "I wonder who it is this time?"
He shrugged. "Think we should go wake the others up?"
"No. Let it wait until after dinner. Ken-san is not easy to wake up and Youji-san has issues."
"Issues?" Omi raised an eyebrow.
Yuki nodded, one hand smoothing out an imaginary wrinkle in her skirt. "Didn't you tell me that he always mistakes you for Murase-san when you wake him?"
"Yeah."
"That sounds like issues."
"Hmm." Omi smiled at her and parried. "Yuki-chan, you do realize that before you joined us he used to turn down missions if they didn't involve women over the age of eighteen?"
Akayuki raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"
Omi nodded. "And don't you think it's interesting, the way he hits on Manx and Birman all the time but never you? Even before you got involved with Ken-kun?"
"He knows I'd break his hand if he tried," she dismissed.
"Even when we first met you?" he asked. "Would you have hurt him even then? He has never tried anything on you, even when we thought you were just our nice neighbor shopkeeper."
Yuki shrugged. "That's deeper into his psychoanalysis than I'm willing to go, Omi-san. So far as I know, I am a teammate, a friend, and perhaps something of a younger sister to him. I am content to leave it at that."
They watched the tape in silence. Its contents weren't news to them: in recent weeks the Tokyo radio stations and television shows had been covering the stories of fashion models abducted from shows, ransomed for high amounts, then found floating dead in the Sumida River.
"What a waste of beautiful women," Youji commented as Persia's image broke into snow.
"Please do think of something else once in a while," Yuki replied, glancing at him.
Aya's hand on the remote shut off the television, casting the room into blackness. "Any ideas?" he asked, flicking the lights back on.
"Yuki-chan's turn to play bait," Omi said from where he leaned forward on a chair turned backwards.
"Now wait a minute!" Ken yelped.
"It's all right, Ken-san," Yuki overrode him. "It's probably the easiest method. Besides which, it's not fair to ask Omi-san to play bait all the time." Her blue eyes glinted with amusement.
Ken looked at the other three, then subsided, seeing the looks of agreement on their faces.
"I'm a big girl, Ken-san," Yuki chided him. "I can take care of myself. I was doing pretty good on solo missions before I joined Weiss, remember?"
"Right," he sighed. He looked up into her face. "That doesn't mean I have to like this, though."
"So what poor sucker is going to be at the Amida Fashion Center next to do a show?" Youji inquired to the air, relaxing back into the sofa.
Omi scooted over to one of the Underworld's computers. Quick hands turned up a short answer. "Arai Yoshiki," he replied. "Next Tuesday."
Youji's eyes widened at that. "The premier Japanese designer?" he asked. "I don't suppose there's any way I could get put into one of his shows too?"
Ken rolled his eyes.
Youji placed a badge on Arai's desk. Concerned about what had been happening to the models at the recent fashion shows, the man had taken absolute control over his show. No one was allowed in unless he recognized the name. Omi had been unable to plant any of them in the computer records. Kritiker had obtained the Japanese Secret Service badge that Youji was presenting. It would check out as on the level for the duration of the mission. "I'm here to help you, Arai-sensei," he said calmly.
The designer raised one eyebrow. "The police have already come to me."
"I'm not with the police," Youji said. "Frankly, good as they are, this is out of their scope. I am part of an undercover team specializing in taking down kidnapping rings. Remember when the son of Sakuma-san was kidnapped last year, and all those other kids who were killed?" He left the conclusion of that case unsaid.
Arai's eyebrows raised slightly. He was obviously aware of what had happened. "What can I do for you..." his glance flickered to the badge, "Kudou-san?"
"We need to plant our members among your models and stage crew," Youji said bluntly.
"How many?"
Youji bit back a smile. This was easier than he'd thought. Arai must be worried to be putting up so little fight. "Female models are the victims; we'd like to put a woman named Yuki in as one of your models for this show. Also there are myself and three other men available for the case." He splayed four photos of the other Weiss members for Yoshiki's benefit. "Where we can be placed without drawing too much attention to ourselves is up to you, so long as we have free access."
Yoshiki glanced at the photographs. He picked up the one of Yuki-chan and nodded. "She'll do. I can work her into the show easily enough. How tall is she?" Youji held his hand just slightly below shoulder level. "Heels, then. She can walk in high heels?"
"She can dance and fight in them too." Youji couldn't bite back half a smirk remembering how Yuki had used her feet more than once as weapons. The Magician could kill a man with a shoe.
"Good. I'd like you also as a model; you have the looks for it."
Youji's grin widened. "I'd be honored," he accepted, no shame at all.
Arai glanced over the other three pictures. "Have you any recommendations for your companions?"
Youji separated out Omi's snapshot. "He's in charge of our communications. Put him somewhere where talking into a headset won't stand out."
"Assistant stage manager," Yoshiki said immediately.
Aya's picture was next. "He has a bad attitude. I'd recommend placing him somewhere where he can glower at people. Security, probably."
The designer nodded again. "And him?" He held up KenKen's photograph.
"Ken will blend in anywhere you put him. We'd prefer to have him on the ground, though."
"Can he wield a camera?"
"He's good enough with Omi's."
Yoshiki smiled. "Then he can be in with the photographers. Frankly, I'd put you all in the show but having five new faces in one show would be too suspicious, especially when I already have half a dozen undercover cops lurking around the place."
"Our thanks, Arai-sensei." Youji bowed. "You've made our jobs a good deal easier with your cooperation."
"Kudou-san, if you're really what you claim to be, you'd have gone forth with this even without my cooperation, wouldn't you have?" The man studied him.
Youji pushed his shades higher on his nose. "I won't lie to you, Arai-sensei. Yes, we would have."
The man nodded. "Good. I admire competency. The rehearsal starts on Tuesday at 8am. I'll need both you and her there if you're to be the models."
"We wouldn't miss it."
Yuki cast a sardonic look up at the building's face from behind her sunglasses. "I can't believe I'm doing this," she commented aloud.
"You never wanted to be a model?" Youji asked from behind his own shades, his body long and relaxed.
"Oh, please. I'm petty, but not that petty," she shot back as the pair of them walked up the front steps. "Why would modelling hold the slightest attraction for me? I'm an athlete."
"Well, kindly don't give such sentiments out while on the job," her partner told her as they passed through security.
"Yes, yes," she sighed. "I won't trouble trouble 'til trouble troubles me."
"Good luck then," he said as they parted ways. "I'll see you at the lunch break... that is, if the people around here even eat." His green eyes twinkled with that shot, making her smile as she found her way to the ladies' dressing room.
There were three other models in the room, and they turned to look at her with all the friendliness of a rattlesnake poising to strike. Sadly, Yuki recognized all of them from their ads.
Yoriko, the dark-haired beauty who at 191 centimeters tall was the highest-paid supermodel in the Japanese fashion world.
Abamana, a whip-thin African woman with high cheekbones and a fabulously sculpted face.
Chikage, who was barely fifteen yet already had cold disdain in her exquisite blue-violet eyes.
Akayuki's feelings of dread were solidified as the door closed behind her and Yoriko smiled, so sweetly, before saying, "Well, I certainly don't know what Yoshiki-sama was thinking, hiring a dwarf to model his clothing."
"Perhaps he's planning to introduce a line for infants at this show," Abamana said, turning an idle page in her magazine. Her nails were bright red and as sharp as her tongue.
"Or perhaps he simply wants to emphasize that his clothing should only be worn by those of taste," Chikage added smoothly, seeming thoughtful.
//Sorry, Youji-san,// Yuki apologized, smiling to herself.
"Really, ladies," she said calmly, "you could be a bit more graceful about hiding your jealousy."
Yoriko barked a short burst of laughter. "And why should we be jealous of you, chibi?" she asked derisively.
Yuki made innocent eyes. "It's not my fault that you can't fit well into a man's arms, obasan."
Yoriko rose from her stool and stalked over to Yuki, claws splayed. "You--" she hissed impolitely, then stopped the word when she found a shoe resting in the soft hollow of her throat.
"Don't try anything with me, obasan," Akayuki said rather quietly. "I've taken down people with five times as much competence as you. I'm not happy about being placed into this assignment, but if the three of you don't want to end up floating in the Sumida River like the others, you'll be wise to let me alone."
"You're...." Abamana seemed reluctant to grasp the concept.
"Keep your hands off me, ladies," Yuki warned, still holding her heel at Yoriko's throat to make the point. "You're outclassed."
Glaring at her, Yoriko whirled around and went to a mirror, touching the spot on her throat where Yuki's footwear had kissed against her skin.
Satisfied with a glance at the other two that her status was determined for the moment, Yuki found an empty dressing table and sat down to wait.
It was well past two before the models were offered a lunch break. Youji made his way over to the ladies' dressing room, as promised, and knocked on the door.
"Come in," someone called, and Youji nodded to himself once before entering.
"I was looking for Shirayuki," he said to the bevy of beautiful women staring at him. Some of them were almost drooling. He bit back a smirk.
"Just a sec, Yotan," replied the young woman in question, more petite than ever in comparison to the others. She tied a band around the end of the hair she'd been braiding and stood, grabbing a small purse from the dressing table before walking over to him. "Have any place in mind for lunch?"
He nearly grinned. There were enough daggers shooting into the Magician's back to make her a pincushion if they'd been real, yet she was publically playing up the scene, being more familiar with him than usual, just to irk these models. "I don't know," he said. "Maybe that cafe you were mentioning the other day? It's not far from here." He opened the door for her and cast a half-wave back at the roomful of women. "Ladies."
"You wench," he teased when the door had closed all the way behind them.
The Magician didn't bother to hide her grin. "They've been putting me through hell all morning; you expect me not to indulge in a little payback when you waltz in the door asking for me? Most of those women are as shallow as a drained swimming pool, and they've all been casting admiring looks at you."
"Good to know the infamous Kudou charm hasn't failed me yet," Youji said, smirking.
"Any problems on your side?"
He shook his head. "Nope, though I've been hit on twice." He sighed. "I don't like men!" he said plaintively. "Now why couldn't it have been a few of your compatriots who made an offer?"
Akayuki cast amused eyes at him. "If you actually decided to take any of those she-wolves up on such offers, Youji-san, I'd have you committed."
"Ah, they're none of them my type," he dismissed as they walked out of the building and into the sunshine. He adjusted his shades.
"You have a type?"
"Pretty tomboys who don't let me get away with anything," Youji replied, thinking of Asuka.
Yuki was silent for a minute, then said softly, "Youji-san... doesn't that describe me as well?"
Youji started at the realization. "Yeah," he said. "I guess it does."
She didn't say anything more, and he glanced at the Magician. //Women should not do this kind of work,// he thought, not for the first time.
Shimon had never been in a show this tense. He frankly wasn't sure he liked it, but he was in a contract and wasn't going to break it. Aside from which, Yoshiki-sensei wouldn't be going forward with the show if he felt there was a danger to his models, right?
Shimon wished he felt more sure that the increased security would help.
He looked up as Kudou sauntered past him, the lanky new model already dressed in the black and green combination Arai's father had him wearing first for the show. The tall man was tense, like everyone else, but his tension was different somehow. Like he was waiting for something, anticipating....
Shimon watched Kudou out of the corner of his eye, watched him stop and ask something of the new assistant stage manager. Tsukiyono-san nodded in response and Kudou sauntered away.
Tougo frowned. He did not like what had been going down with the shows in this place and he especially did not like that his friend was about to get involved in it. Which was why he was lurking backstage at his father's show, Yuusuke and the others sitting somewhere in the audience.
Dammit, nothing had better happen!
He leaned against a wall, having nothing better to do than watch one of the makeup artists turn Shimon's pretty face into something even prettier.
"Tsukiyono-san?" a sweet voice asked someone to Tougo's left. He turned his head to see one of his father's models (a new one; he didn't recognize her) talking to the assistant stage manager.
Was this one ever a treat. Not built on the "taller is better" principle like so many models, she'd probably barely reach to Tougo's chin without the heels. Loose black hair, pinned back with gold butterfly combs, reached to her hips, brushing gently around the sporty business suit she wore.
The girl finished her inquiry and walked away, right towards Tougo.
"Hey, pretty lady," he said as she moved past him. "Got a date for tonight?"
He saw Takagi's reflected eyebrows raised in the mirror. /Shaddup,/ he mentally growled, irritated by the other's knowing smile.
The girl was looking at him, seeming almost stunned.
"Yes," she said finally, her voice soft and distant. "But... thank you." She turned and walked away, black hair swishing around her figure. Tougo stared after her in disbelief.
Then he turned to see Shimon's mirrored expression even more amused than before. "Shut up!" he said aloud, turning away.
Aya watched the show with a certain disinterest. The music was loud, the cameras flashed brightly, and people in expensive clothing paraded up and down the catwalk. Balinese was probably having the time of his life.
The redhaired swordsman could see both Bombay and Siberian from his current position, as well as those models who were onstage at the moment. Not to mention most of the police force's conspicuously undercover agents. He snorted in derision and watched as Magician vanished behind the stage curtains. If something didn't happen soon, this mission--
The thought was cut off as the entire building was plunged into deafening black.
Omi clapped his hands over his ears in an ineffective attempt to cut down the subsonic whine shrieking through his skull. All around him models, male and female, added their screams to the whistle's power. He fought to remain on his feet against that sound, but slowly crumpled to his knees. His mind was shredding, sliced open and pulled in thousands of painful directions at once.
Then it stopped.
The lights came back on.
Youji released the model he'd been shielding and ran to the backstage area, aware of Ken jumping onto the runway and following, Aya slipping through the curtain just ahead of them.
They stopped in the backstage area as Omi turned to face them, a small smile curving Bombay's lips as he stood. "They took her," he said, holding up a small black tracking device.
"Shit!" Yuusuke shoved aside the stunned security, looking for Tougo and Takagi.
He found the former.
Nakamoto stopped beside him, expression stunned, while Shimura pushed past Yuusuke and demanded, wide-eyed, of Tougo, "Where's Takagi-kun?"
Tougo didn't reply, just set his lips into a firmer line. He looked shell-shocked. Hell, they probably all did.
"Arai-kun," Shimura repeated, louder, beginning to panic, "where is Takagi-kun?!"
Yuki opened her eyes and found herself lying in a storage room. She sat up gingerly, vaugely amused at the cliche. There was another figure lying on the floor; she ignored that for the moment and tested the bonds which held her hands behind her back. Handcuffs. Police grade, from the feel of them.
She looked at that other person. Blond hair spilled from a destroyed ponytail; she couldn't see the face.
"Hey, you awake?" she whispered. As if her voice was a catalyst, the other model moaned a little and slowly sat up from the floor, blinking.
She recognized him. "You're Yoshiki-sensei's image model, aren't you?"
He nodded, trying to shake strands of hair out of his face. "Takagi Shimon. And you are?"
"Call me Magician," Akayuki replied, standing, fighting off a slight bout of dizziness. What had they been knocked out with, and more importantly, had it affected her fighting abilities? She leaned forward, trailing her cuffed hands down the backs of her legs, then stepped backwards over the linked hands, bringing them before her. She sat down again, examining them. "As I thought, police standard." She smirked and reached into the bodice of her dress, pulling a flat stretch of fabric out from her bra.
"What--" Takagi asked as she flipped open the fabric case to reveal an assortment of lockpicks. Akayuki smiled at him and selected the most appropriate pick, starting to work on the handcuffs.
"I'm not a model," she explained, concentrating her attention. She knew how to open these, the Balinese had showed her the trick to it just last month... there! She happily took the cuffs off her wrists and returned the pick to its holder.
"Hey," Takagi said, "aren't you going to open mine?"
She considered for a moment. If she left him, he could be used as a hostage. If she let him free....
Oh hell.
It was only a moment's work to spring the lock on his cuffs. "Now be quiet, and do exactly what I say," she warned the young man as she slid up to the door. There were voices on the other side, four or five of them, maybe. There might be more. "Hmm."
As he was massaging his wrists, Akayuki looked around the storage room. There were the heels on her feet and her own fists, but one against five wasn't the best odds and she'd prefer a weapon.
She spotted a length of pipe and walked over, hefted it in one hand. Heavier than she was used to, but.... "It'll do." She leaned it back against the wall and considered the outfit she was in. The cream skirt was only knee-length, but it was tight.
//Sorry, Yoshiki-sensei,// she apologized, then made two quick rips up the side seams.
Takagi was staring at her as she tried a fast side kick through either rip to make sure of her mobility. Fortunately the choloroform or whatever seemed to have worn completely off. Who knew when her teammates would arrive.
"Are you police?" Takagi asked.
She spared him a glance as she moved back towards the door. "Not police." Another pick jimmied the lock easily. "Now. Stay here. I don't need you in the way. I can't afford a hostage situation."
"Aah." He nodded.
Akayuki opened the door only to find herself looking down the black business end of a gun.
Abyssinian silently opened the door of the warehouse and slipped within, concealing himself behind a pile of crates. He saw Bombay's shadow ghost across one of the skylights, and caught sight of Balinese on the far side of the building.
In the center of the room, ringed by the kidnappers, was Magician, a gun held to her head. The other model stood beside her, similarly threatened.
"Bombay," Siberian's voice hissed through the receiver in Aya's right ear, "aren't you in position yet? We need a distraction here, dammit!"
"In position," the youngest assassin replied, which was followed a second later by the sound of breaking glass and a yell from one of the kidnappers. Abyssinian just caught the blur of Magician spinning into action before the lights went out and the warehouse became blackness.
Omi dropped through the broken skylight, his night-vision goggles giving him an advantage over the targets. Yuki-chan shoved Takagi out of the fray, then took out the man closest to her. Omi smiled, remembering all the extra functions of her contacts, and launched a dart.
It was over in a matter of seconds. The targets had been overconfident and unprepared for an attack.
Ken stepped over a growing pool of blood and reached out a hand to Yuki-chan, beckoning her away. But she hesitated and shook her head, gesturing silently at Takagi.
"Magician?" the man asked into the blackness, looking blindly around himself.
"Takagi-san," she said. His head moved in the direction of her voice. "The storage room is two steps behind you. Go there and stay there until the police arrive, if you want to get out of this alive."
He didn't move for a long minute. Omi warily eyed Aya's hand on the hilt of his sheathed katana. No witnesses.
"Please," she said.
The five of them left on silent feet as Takagi took a reluctant step towards that room.
Shimon shook his head to the policeman's question. For the thousandth time, it seemed, no, he didn't know anything about the people who had killed the kidnappers. There had been a crash and the man holding a gun to his head had yelled in pain, then the lights had gone out and he hadn't seen anything more. Hadn't seen....
...the blood.
...the bodies.
When the police had arrived and found him in that room, he didn't know how much later, he'd vomited at the sight of what had been done. And at the thought that that girl had been involved somehow in it.
Another policeman stepped in front of where Shimon sat on a crate and shooed the first officer away. Shimon looked up at him, at a serious, honest face. "I'm Lieutenant Kouichi Kousuke," the man introduced himself. "We've contacted both your friends and your employer, Takagi-san, and they're en route. In the meantime, I think I have an idea of who did this, and I hope you'll be able to confirm something for me."
"Oh?" Shimon asked, looking away. His eyes came across a puddle of slowly congealing blood. His stomach tightened.
"The girl you mentioned... you said she called herself Magician, right?"
"Yeah."
"She had long black hair, didn't she? Pale skin, only about 165 centimeters or so tall?"
Shimon blinked, looking back at the man. He didn't think he'd mentioned her height. "Yeah...."
The officer nodded. "I thought so. The style fits theirs." He glanced at where the corpses, already in body bags, were being loaded onto gurneys.
"You know her?"
"I did, once. But then she died." He looked back at Shimon. "She was well?"
Shimon nodded once, confused. "Aah."
Lieutenant Kouichi nodded once as well, and said softly, "I'm glad. We got an anonymous phone call tipping us off to this place; it was a woman's voice on the other end of the line." Then he turned and walked away.
Shimon stared after him, then turned his head at the sound of sirens.
A spill of familiar voices could be heard as the police cars came to a stop outside.
Shimon had never been so grateful to hear his friends.
A "typical" mission for the Weiss team. The crossover with Sotsugyou M is pure gratuity. I seem to have a thing for writing about semi-obscure series, especially when there seems to be no other fiction available for it. Now, will someone please tell me why a story which was supposed to let me alone after the first seven chapters keeps writing itself?
Next: Downtime! The explanation of Omi's camera! Ken learns to dance! And what happens when Weiss tries karaoke! Next time on Weiss Kreuz--Lady Killer: Snapshots!
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